The Wonderful Untidiness of Humanity

The Wonderful Untidiness of Humanity

The final 200 km to Santiago went by in a blur. Walking in the pre-dawn darkness is magical. In open country, the path is just visible, in the woods, the branches would stroke my face when I drifted – at least, I think they were branches. However, I missed the kitchen chat and 40 km days were becoming too frequent.   

     In Santiago, I visited the cathedral and then the Pilgrim’s Office. They presented me with a compostsela. Written in Latin it recognizes that I have completed the pilgrimage – I have traded blisters for air miles in the hereafter.

     Heaven is the open road and the next morning I shoulder the pack and follow the yellow arrows to first, Finisterra, and then, Muxia on the coast. It is rugged wild country, reminisant of Scotland. The Galician’s pride is reflected in their food and welcome. Rather than take the bus back to Santiago, I opted to hoof 55 km by road and then the following day it was an easy six hours back to the city. I have walked just over 1000 km in 35 days. My sadness that it was all over turned to joy as I repeatedly met friends who were now en route for Finisterra.

    Although I often started out alone on an empty trail, the day is filled with chance encounters with people of all nationalities and backgrounds. Every evening is a surprise; it could be a raucous party overflowing with food and wine or bare bones facilities and cold showers.

     Many of us live in a cushioned world, unnoticed our windows and computer screens have become mirrors. On the Camino, we saddled our dreams, laced our boots and joined a thousand years of the wonderful untidiness of humanity that strode under the archway in St. Jean Pier de Port for the 1450m climb over the Col de Lepoeder. We quickly learn two sureties: nature doesn’t negotiate and most folk who are prepared to walk thirty kilometres a day for five weeks are good company. Heavy packs blew knees and ankles while skipped meals left you walking on empty the following day. Blister management becomes high art.  

     The cognoscenti pierce them with needle and thread, the thread remains in the foot so that the blister will continue to drain. I will darn my sweater, before I darn my feet. Pierce, squish and daub with tincture of iodine works for me. Soaking feet in the cold water of the many fountains along the way puts the spring back in the step. It is all about listening to your body and the senses as they come alive.

     Tinkling cowbells, the raucous babble of languages around the dinner table, cockerels crowing in the dawn. The aroma of fresh bread and coffee drifting over the cobblestones. The distant church spire that heralds lodging for the night or a backward glance at misty blue hills and the thought – Wow! I was there this morning. The gimpy gait that comes when you walked too far the day before and have sat for too long. The delight at rounding a corner and there, sitting at the fountain, are your dinners partners from a few days ago – and the stories begin all over again.

Camino de Santiago Photos 2013

 

Unleach the Legs

The first ten days I sauntered and socialized my way through the medieval villages , then I climbed up to the meseta, or plateau and unleashed the legs. Days of walking along empty Roman roads and countryside.. Every evening is different, one albergue was like Faulty Towers, the next a warm greeting by nuns, the next a sponaneous samba party.
My companions for ther past three days are, Annette from Berlin and Atracta from Belfast, both speed walkers and despite their knee problems leave me trailing. We cover over 30km a day and expect to be in Santiago in five days. Falling into the routine: on the road by 7am, coffee stop mid-morning, late lunch and find a hostel by early afternoon. Then dinner and party with all the fellow perigrinos we met up with along the way, sadly many have had to drop out or rest because of  sprains and strains.

The Crazy Keroracs of the Camino

It is day 11 and I´m in Burgos. The blisters have morphed into snake skin. My random collection of tweaks, tingles and aches are just another roadside attraction. I try to listen to my body´s whispewrs to avoid screams later on. Many perigrinos have had to drop out because joints turned to jello. I´ve settled down to a steady 25k a day, my 20lb pack is not a problem, although it couls be 5lb lighter if i had the latest adventure wear - that said, nobody dies when you shop at the Sally Ann.
We are like Kerorac´s dhrama bums, meeting up each evening at the next water hole. There was Polish Peter with his 30kilo pack - I told him there are no luggage racks on a hearse, he then served me hot coffee from his pack along with chunk of chocolate. John, the sound engineer from Toronto, Sabrina who has walked from Germany, a 73 year old frenchman whoes has already clocked 3800km  this year, a 14 year old Korean girl striding along with her dad. All the wonderful untidiness of humanity stompin´along with a little help from tinto and tynanol.

Ballykissangel Country

The Camino could be Ballykissangel country if I wasn´t so totally knackered - ´girls, drink, feck it´as Father Ted would say. I went mad today and hooved 40k over nine hours. The last part refers to the blisters, usually I stomp them into submission by mid-morning, we´ll see tomorrow. Fortunately I have been practicing DIY medicine for years, specializing in pocket knief and duct tape procedures. I´m four days east of Burgos, it´s the end of the first week and 200km are in the dust.

Snake in a Bamboo Pole

On the Camino travel is like being a snake confined to a bamboo pole. i stay on the ttrail following the yellow arrows and scallop shells up and down hills, similarily, I have to resist the tempation to go mad and walk all day. The Roman legions rested every fourth day to allow the body to recover. I walk until noon and then kill an afternoon at a side walk cafe with a bottle of Rioja. Aches disappear with the morning mist. Along an empty stretch I got an earworm and relief until myself and fellow perigrinos belting out the Blues brother´s Ghost Riders in the Sky to the rows of grape vines - a mighty herd of red eyed cows a plowin´thru the sky´etc.
I´m haf a day east of Logrono and today´s alberque is a 12th century gothic church fortruss.

Sauntering to Santiago

I had no idea walking was so easy or so much fun. It´s day four and I covered 120km, I went mad yesturday and did 40km, now nursing blisters. Stripped gear down to bare essentials - chopped sleeves off polar fleese and ditched second pair of underwear - ´some folks got more underwear than notches on a gun. I know better than that. A man only needs one. One good pair, it ain´t much, it ain´t much, it´s just every little thing.´ ( with a nod to Janis Joplin).
The first hour or so is a walk in the dark under a harvest moon, later come the cafe and beer stops. In the evening it´s a free-rolling dinner and chat with fellow perigrinos.