Compostella Here We Come

Saturday 28 Sept      Sarria to Portomarin  22.4 km

So here we are, the final 115 km of the walk that started over four weeks ago. We had covered over 600 km to this point, suffered through bruises, constipation, bed bugs, blisters, pulled groins, bee stings, bum knees, snoring, repetitive meals, wind, rain, thirst, excessive heat, sunburn, being sprayed by manure and so on to get to this point. The training run was over with all the marbles in play over the next five days. It is weird how the mind has started subtle shifts in thinking; there is no longer a question of if we can finish, no longer worried about what type of terrain lies ahead, or about the weather. There is just the thought " lets get at er, cause baby we've handled everything you threw at us and we are still ticking". The Freddy girls were a day ahead of us with their own bevy of wounds making their way, even Cheryl who developed plantar fasciitis on the descent from hell (if you have never had it you wouldn't understand the pain involved) was determined to make it through. Somewhere behind us was Will who would catch us before Santiago. Should be a great finish to this wonderful experience.

For the rest of the way we would follow the guide book, though we were smart enough to reserve ahead to make sure we had a bed to sleep in each night. Sarria is the point where all routes of the various Caminos merge. On top of that,  this is the closest point to Santiago that one can start and get the full 100 km in. So the number of people walking would significantly increase over the next five days.

The day started as expected, rain falling creating a sheet flow on the steep and wide street outside the albergue that leads up towards the trail. This was the first real walk in the dark in the rain and it was necessary to take extra care not to lose our footing. Off we went, head lamps a blazing, ponchos flapping in the wind and walking sticks clicking on the bricks. Right off the bat there was a big group mistake. The yellow arrows lead you to the street that takes you out of Town,  called Camino Francais,  and the two dozen or so pilgrims who had started around the same time dutifully followed it. The problem was the street looped back around into Town if you kept on it, and the yellow arrow directing us to turn left on Ponte Aspera was not really visible in the dark, so most missed it. The good news for us was many pilgrims had missed it earlier and we were greeted by the headlamps coming back at us before we went too far past.

About 4 and a bit km down the road we stopped for the first cafe con leche of the day in Barbadelo, and were soon joined by half of the Dooley Heath family. You may recall a very early post about Nick and Judy going to an archaeological dig of a church with an Australian family, well this was the family.  One incredible family, and I have been remiss to this point not talking more about them. The entire family was on a three month whirlwind trip that included stops in a number of countries both before and after the Camino. Bill, a former monk,  the father runs a family farm outside of Melborne, and is a licensed but non practicing veterinarian (except on his own farm). Catherine, the mother, is a former nun who
actually worked for Mother Theresa when she
first had the calling, and was now a nurse. And as my young friend Tom told me, "she could kick your ass too cause she has a black belt". The family was rounded out by three girls aged 16, 13 and 7, then of course Tom aged 11. Every one of those kids was polite, well spoken and wise beyond their years. They held daily family meetings to discuss and make decisions, and freely discuss issues of the day to the point where all of them are well informed, and encouraged, and able, to analyze things and form their own opinions. The kids often set out on their own staying in regular contact or meeting at pre defined points. Young Maya had been walking the route with the rest of the family all the way from St Jean Pied de Port, at the age of 7. Simply amazing. Every single person who met the family shook their head when the heard how old the kids were because it was like talking to an adult no matter which one you were in discussion with. Hats off to the family and two parents who have raised an exceptional family.

The route today while rising 200 m over half the length did so on gentle slopes, with the terrain split between deserted country roads and narrow tree lined paths. Although we have encountered livestock on the walk pretty much all the way, the number seems to grow exponentially since entering Galicia. The other thing that really started becoming prevalent was the stench of maneur in the air. It was part and parcel of the rain and freshly fertilized fields, but man, the entire area stunk. Mary Lou didn't seem to mind it stating it was a whole lot easier on the lungs than second hand cigarette smoke. True enough I guess.

There were a series of amusing events with animals during the walk. The first was along a narrow path lined by a brick wall on one side and shrubs on the other, which skirted a  field that was in the process of being sprayed with liquid pig maneur. The winds were blowing fairly briskly towards the path, and the farmer made the turn with the tractor just as a steady stream of pilgrims hit this section of the trail. Thin whisps of the liquid blew across us as we walked and the smell was overpowering, to the point that you could actually taste this in your mouth. It smelled better than it tasted. Everyone was pretty much trapped in the spot because at the same time a number of cattle were sauntering towards us, and they don't move out of the way.  A little further down the road we crossed paths with a lady who was out for a walk with her sheep, just like taking the dog for a walk. She couldn't figure out what we were staring at. No more than a km down the road we passed two absolutely beautiful horses standing at the barb wire fence, waiting for pilgrims passing to notice what they wanted. It seems they had finished all of the apples from the tree that had fallen on their side of the fence, and were standing patiently looking for apples to be handed to them. Pretty neat actually. Then finally as we entered Ferrerios an older couple was herding about six cattle down the main street, whacking them with sticks to keep them moving. Mary Lou stopped to watch and the old doll turned to berate her saying mind your own business and get back to the Camino. I watched this with a laugh while enjoying my beer.

After a rainy start, the weather had held off  and we made good time into the town of Potomarin. The entrance was across an extremely high and narrow bridge, with a railing on the pedestrian walkway that was a good foot lower than what we are used to here in North America. It was a little too spooky for me and I ended up walking on the roadway itself. Didn't seem to phase Mary Lou though.

The skys opened up again just as we hit our destination and everything was wet again by the time we got to the Albergue Porto Santiago. Quite a nice place actually and we were first in so got the pick of the bunks. Took some time to shower, wash the clothes and fire them into the dryer, and not a well grounded dyer at that. Opening the door I could feel the current buzzing through me. The owner pointed at my bare feet and said I should be wearing shoes. Yeah, that was it, no shoes.

We had a very nice evening in town meeting many of our Camino friends, had a few drinks, a few laughs and a decent dinner at a small Italian restaurant. All in all, a great day.