12th July
The day started with a steep descent down the stairs from the third floor as
the lift was not yet switched on - a form of Galician humour?? Despite a
decent mattress and no snoring it was hard to get to sleep as the person in the
room next door seemed to be an advocate of Feng Shui and a perfectionist as
well and the noise of furniture moving kept me awake for some time. After all
my morning rituals of foot creams etc I was leaving later than intended and the
bar downstairs had opened so I took advantage and ate breakfast before going on
to Melide where the refuge has 130 beds and a good chance that I will get one
of them.
Having been rather disparaging about the Galicians so far I would like to add
that Gallego has a beautiful singing accent and to me sounds very much like
Italian in tone, but is closer to Portuguese in the words used. The rolling
hills meant lots of ups and downs and I get held up on the first climb by a
bunch of cyclists who are having trouble finding the right gear. I have
already passed a few pilgrims and I think at first that the knee is improving,
that is until the first descent. I 'ski' down but I am getting a bit flippant
and my foot slips on the gravel, with the unbalanced weight of the rucksack I
nearly topple over. There are 2 girls in front of me singing loudly and
gesticulating wildly with the emotion of the songs, I suspect a broken romance
as I hear Yesterday, and Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head, before Do a Deer.
It helps the journey pass and as I catch up with them they invite me to join
in, they have only been on the Camino 2 days, so no wonder they are singing.
One girl is American and the other Swiss but they are obviously good friends.
We arrive at a small village and there is a woman watching her son repairing
the roof, the two girls ask the woman if she needs help, she replies yes. With
in seconds they have their rucksacks off and the woman is protesting that she
was not serious, they put the rucksacks back on but their willingness to help
was a lesson. I leave them taking photos as this is not the time to intrude on
their special shared experience.
I stop at Casa Domingo which is a bar and refuge, it is really rustic and I
wish I could have stayed there, even the toilets are rustic with 'marbleised'
toilet roll holder and hand dryer. They even have toilet paper which is a
luxury, on the camino you have to take your own. As I get closer to the
province of A Coruńa the people seem to get more friendly, there is no longer
barbed wire on the walls to stop the pilgrims from resting. Several people
since have said that the people of Lugo are just fed up with being nice to the
pilgrims as they get greeted all day long, I am afraid it is a reason that I
can't embrace as all the other Provinces have the pilgrims passing and manage
the courtesy to say hello. At the point where I have walked 200km I sit down
and eat an apple, amazed that I have got this far and certain that I can
complete the journey.
The first thing that I see as I enter the province of A Coruńa is a scrap metal
yard with a mountain of smashed up cars, some old coaches are propped up on
wood as the wheels have been sold on. I stop in a café and the woman even
comes over to my table to sit down and talk to me, things have definitely
changed. In defence of the people of Lugo, they have to live in the most awful
climate with mist most of the day in summer which must be depressing, they have
a hard life. I leave the café feeling lighter in spirit, the sun starts to
shine and even the rucksack feels lighter. I pass a young man massaging his
feet and ask if he needs help, he's ok, and later on he catches me up and says
that he regulary massages his feet and that I am only the 2nd person in 12 days
to check if he is alright, the other was a German. His name is Felipe and he
is from Madrid, he is a fireman, but has come to dislike the lifestyle in
Madrid which is based on money, position and image and when he goes back to
work he is going to ask to be transferred to the Sierra surrounding Madrid.
His values have been changing and he know values quality of life over finances,
and as he works 7 shifts of 24 hours each month he will have plenty of time to
go walking with he loves. He gives me some tips about walking and my knee, He
is having to go faster as he needs to complete the Camino in the next 2 days as
on 15th he is going to Cadiz for the rest of his holiday with a friend from
Madrid, so we part at Melide and I search for the refuge.
Whilst walking through the town I feel a bit over awed and find myself gazing
at the buildings like a country bumpkin, a woman rushes up to me and grabs my
hand, I think that she is going to ask me for money as there is a purse in her
hand and this is Galicia, but no she wants to know where I'm going and gives me
the directions and then wishes me well. When I find it, there is a long queue
outside as it has not yet opened, Paco from Lugo proves to be helpful, there
always has to be an exception to the rule, and he tells me to put my rucksack
in the queue that is lining the street to reserve my place, I then sit down
and listen to the flute that someone is playing, there are lots of people with
guitars and other musical instruments on route. Emilio spots me as the doors
open, he finds Magpie difficult to say and calls me Mari a shortened version of
Mariposa, butterfly.
After a lay down I go off to the pastry shop to watch the Tour de France, I eat
pastries, ice cream, a fresh fruit milk shake, and generally pig out. I feel
very tired and my knee hurts but with only 50km to go it all seems possible. I
bump into Emilio who wants to eat with me tonight and we make arrangements to
meet up, however at the agreed time I am in the salon talking to Kate and Rial
and when I get to the meeting place he is not there, so I eat alone. It is
Saturday night and for the first time I feel lonely and tired and am really in
need of a lift. I walk about the town and eventually end up back at the refuge
feeling a bit low, there is no one I know in the salon, so I go outside to sit.
Fortunately Jose form Salamanca and his wife Ana from Ponferrada turn up and
we have a chat. They are only doing the section from Sarria and it is part of
their vacation, they are doing it slowly like me and our paths cross several
times during the next few days. I them meet Mike and Heather from Australia,
who have been to England for a wedding and have cycled the route from Paris,
they are exhausted as they have had to cycle further than they wanted today as
the refuges were full and there was nowhere to put a tent. As we are talking
Emilio turns up, he is feeling depressed and has thought about abandoning, he
seems to suffer from mood swings from high to low. We all talk for a bit with
me as translator for the Australians, Emilio is going to have to wait until 10
before he can leave so he can collect his photos. I also meet Regina from
Poland who tends to be a bit frosty and Rosa from Barcelona who have teamed up
on the camino, so feeling a bit better I go off to bed.
13th July
I see Kate and Rial in the morning, Kate is complaining about the people, she
has beenon the road along time and is getting tired. The people have changed
they seem more selfish and the ambience has changed too, so she gets it off her
chest as I sympathise with her feelings. My back has started to ache from the
bad mattress and I know that I have a day of suffering ahead of me, I feel
tired before even starting. I think that I am going to have to wait 5km for
the first café and breakfast, so the one at 300m is a welcome sight, although
bread toasted in oil with marmalade is not my preferred option. As I leave an
elderly man wishes me a good journey, just the thing before a long hard day. I
meet a French couple shortly after but they have reached Santiago and are
walking their way back, some people are very tough or very attached to the
camino.
I can hear a loud voice behind me spouting an opinion and before I can make out
what is being said I know it is an American lady, in fact 2 of them. As they
pass me they ignore me and I hear one talking about making money, being
competitive in the market and networking, a bit later I saw one of them looking
for the arrows to see if they are on the right route, I silently think that
they are 'lost' already. On entering the next village there is an old bearded
man coming towards me, he has a long scythe over his shoulder and a smaller one
on his arm, I think it is the grim reaper coming to relieve me of my suffering,
but no it's not my time yet. I start to think about the people I met at the
beginning that must have now finished and probably left Spain.
I come across a group of youngsters who are walking on the wrong path and I
tell them, but they have decided to walk the road as the path is difficult,
there is a fine drizzle that lasts most of the day. As I get closer I am
finding the walking harder, I think that perhaps when there are a lot of
kilometres to do you never thing about the end, but as they come down you can
think of nothing else but. I come across a large statue of Little red Riding
Hood in a garden and wonder how it can be significant to the pilgrimage, beware
of wolves dressed in Grandma's clothing. I stop at a café and in minutes there
is a ginger tom cat on my lap, he is purring so much he is in ecstasy, I
suppose in a farming community affection is hard to find and I feel reluctant
to stop stroking him. Again the owner of the bar is helpful and tells me the
directions to the next arrow, then a man on a moped beeps as he passes me.
Sometime you get strange thoughts and looking at a cockrel and hens I wonder
about the survival of the species as I have never seen a hen laying on an egg,
they usually lay them and leave them. The next refuge and Ribadiso has an
excellent reputation as there are good services, a water park nearby and the
banks of the river on which to rest. I am getting more pilgrim like everyday
and the idea of frivolous fun seems alien to me, I also want to do the extra
few kilometres as tomorrows stage is long. Sitting on an earth mound close to
Arzúa my chosen destination, I am suddenly joined by Emilio who shows me all
his photos, including one from when he suffered depression which shows him
knitting!! He plans to knit a chess board and put it under a glass table so he
can use the large pieces that he has from one of his many chess sets.
We walk down to the town together and get the last 2 beds in the refuge,
however I notice that there are already people sleeping on the floors and I
discover that each refuge saves some beds for the aged and infirm, for once I
won't protest at the label. I went to eat and watch the Tour de France, but
Emilio talks through it, fortunately Lucia and Ana turn up, he has met them
before. Once the stage has finished Lucia escapes to come over and talk to me,
she is an English teacher from Bilbao who talks to every person she meets and
has an incredible memory for names and faces. She is quite a special person
who spreads light and good humour where ever she goes, I come across a few
people over the next few days who say the same thing.
I have a lay down and so does Emilio who has had quite a few drinks, today the
refuge has beds and not bunks. When I wake up it is gone 8 and Emilio is still
asleep, I confess to creeping out quietly so as not to wake him and to have a
meal in peace. He is well meaning and rather like the puppy that constantly
jumps up at your leg and when you tell it off it hangs its head and you feel
guilty as you know it only means well. When I get back to the refuge I have a
chat with Lucia and Ana and a young Brazilian who is learning English. Lucia
says that the thing she find most incredible about the journey is the strength
of the mind and not the body, how amazing it is that despite all the injuries
and suffering people still carry on. After a bit Emilio turns up and he has
been in a café with some others so is in good humour. Ana has a book in which
she is keeping pressed flowers, it is a lovely way to remember the camino and I
wish I had thought about doing it. During the conversation I say that I like
to walk alone, it is for Emilio's benefit and Lucia gives me an sympathetic 'I
understand'
14th July
For the first 12km of today's stage there will be no café so I go to the café
and join Lucia and Ana, who leave before me. The start for once are some
kilometres on the flat through Eucalyptus groves, there is a monument to a
young priest who died on the camino and later a touching love message from
Marco for Christa, the variation of the images is always surprising. I meet a
trainee physio from Salamanca and I get more good advice for my knee, he spent
2 months in England last year and said it is the best city he has visited. He
is going to fast for me and I leave him to race ahead, I am then passed by Jose
and Ana, they are raving about the refuge at Ribadiso. Then I see a face that
seems to be familiar, it turns out to be Maria the wife of the owner of the
company that used to do our garden. It is a bit strange seeing a face from
Javea, she is doing the last 100k with her daughter, but would like to do more
next year. Mari Carmen and Mari Angeles suddenly pass me, they are 2 lovely
bubbly ladies from the Basque Country, they have only just started to walk as
they took a lift in a car, it doesn't seem to matter to them or to me as they
help raise the spirits of the other walkers. At a bar which was not shown in
the guide I meet up once again with all the people that have passed me this
morning.
The mist swirls through the eucalyptus groves, the trunks of the trees are
peeling and the vegetation is right at the top of these tall trees, there is a
sinister prehistoric feel to the place and I expect to see a charging dinosaur
at any moment. Eventually the landscape opens and I hear a peacock calling in
the distance, there is a sudden vision of colour as the sides of the road are a
mass of flowers, I think of Ana and her book. The Scotsman and the Irishman
have teamed up for the day and are getting on like a house on fire. I sit on a
stone to rest in the lovely gentle sun and feel that I am blessed, then a
butterfly lands on my trousers, more good fortune? A few yards on is an
opening to a field and I sit down and remember how sitting in the grass was
common as a teenager and I start to mediate for a bit. As I leave a bike
whizzes past, it is Ana and the cocker spaniel, he has he head out the top of
the rucksack and is looking around at the scenery, what a lovely way to do the
camino.
A woman stops me to ask where I am going and then gives me directions and the
advice to eat at the bar on the right as it is more economical. As I reach the
bars and turn down the lane I am face to face with Emilio, he has saved a bed
for me at the refuge and said that if there wasn't any left he would give me
his, Jose and Ana are in the same room and are trying to reserve the bed for
me. I discover that I am now known as the English woman with the bad knee. The
refuge is about 1km from the bar and I painfully make my way down. On my bed
are some possessions and a rose, jJse quickly says that it's not from him but
Emilio, I start to worry a bit. I go up to the bar to eat and shortly after
Emilio joins me, he later goes off in search of a cash machine in the next town
whilst I enjoy the Tour de France in peace. I go back to the refuge that is
cold and miserable, there is only one bathroom with shower and toilet for the
whole refuge. I see Paco and Vincente and a group of youngsters that I have
met, Saul the Irishman and Martin the Scotsman get the last beds in the room so
for once I know everyone in the room. Emilio comes back with food and insists
that everyone share it with him, Saul has not taken to Emilio but now sees
another side to him, I am trying to maintain a distance. Martin has very poor
vision and Saul has been helping him all day, we talk and Martin is critical of
the people who do the camino without religion being their main motivation, he
is also critical of Emilio who he dislikes, however I find it strange that a
man who claims to be very religious should use the F word so much in front of a
lady he doesn't know. I have to admit that Emilio is being a bit of a pain and
keeps repeating the same joke that he things people are laughing at not
realising that he is the source of the humour.
15th July
This is the first day of hard rain that I have experienced, it is very much
like England and you know that it is 'in for the day'. I put on my cape which
fortunately covers my bed and my rucksack, but which is difficult to get on and
off without the aid of a person or a mirror. Most people have decided to get a
bus as it is raining, not me, I am happy to experience the change in elements.
I stop at the café at 2km and have breakfast, I help a dutch lady with her cape
at the garage next door and notice that it is dry, she has had a lift. She is
taking the road, but I am taking the camino despite the risk of slipping over.
The only people to pass me today are 2 lads from North America who seem to be
walking without saying a word to each other. Ana passes on her bike and I see
the soaking wet head of the cocker spaniel poking out the top and looking glum,
a bit later I see him running through the woods, she is having a bad day after
drinking water from a fountain. I have noticed how all the women seem to tend
the fields with the crops, and I watch one of them looking in amazement as Ana
picks up her dog and put him in the rucksack on her back, obviously not every
sight has been witnessed on the camino. I wish I had my camera to hand.
Passing through the last village I notice that there are 2 ropes that are
hanging down the front of the church from the bell tower, I feel tempted like a
naughty child to go up and pull them, a little later I hear the bell toll and
wonder if another pilgrim caouldn't resist temptation.
Today is a very hard stage, not because of the terrain or distance but because
there are no places to rest in the wet and taking the cape off is difficult,
there are also few cafes. Then the milestones disappear and the road seems to
go on forever. As the wind blows into my face I realise that shorts were the
best option as my cape is lifted up my legs and drying trousers is not easy.
The road changes from villages to an industrial estate, the arrows are hard to
spot in the wet and I think I am lost. I suddenly see a very strange creature
crossing the road, it vaguely resemble a hairy lap dog but is far too small,
yet has a caterpillar like gait which is far too small. As is gets to the side
it suddenly divides into 2 and half runs off into the grass whilst the other
half remains on the road. On closer inspection it is a dead rat that is on the
road, and I realise that a weasel type animal was dragging it. My presence has
disturbed him, but I know that he will be back, so despite the pouring rain I
decide to wait with my camera, after a while I am rewarded. It is a weasel I
believe, and it fortunately drags its prey down towards me, it stops for a
moment and I take a photo, it them disappears into the grass after posing for
me. I feel so lucky to have witnessed it.
Eventually I arrive at Monte Gozo, I am dizzy with exhaustion and decide to
eat, but it doesn't help so I try sleeping. Later I do feel a bit better but
the road is catching up with me all the time, the anaemia is not helping with
my recovery each day. Monte Gozo is a place all the Spaniards head for, but to
me it looks like a concentration camp, it comprises of grey prefab type blocks
of rooms and can house up to 800 people. There is a dance hall and an
auditorium, but I'm not quite ready for 21st century yet. I find the place
soulless and expensive, the restaurant and the cafeteria don't respect pilgrim
pockets. When the Dutch woman turns up in the same room I notice her shoes are
muddy, but mine are clean, the mud washed away by the rain.
Someone at the refuge volunteers to drop me at the airport so I can collect my
car, it has been very expensive to leave it there and not recommended, however
I feel glad to see it and it starts first time. Driving is a very strange
experience. I eat in the cafeteria in the evening and bump into Emilio again,
he is thrilled as he has got his compostela to say that he has completed the
pilgrimage. I eat, he talks as usual, it is hard to get a word in especially
when he holds court. He tries to give me another rose and I refuse to take it,
he says it is not a declaration of love and I take it in the spirit it was
offered. He says that if I fancy doing the camino next year he would like to
do it with me, no chance I think. I go to bed early, there are only 5km to go
but I feel exhausted and leave the rest to party.
16th July
today is the final stage and I don't get up until 8, here dear reader I confess
to off loading the heavy items from my rucksack into my car, it is of course
for medical reasons. It also means that I can shower on my big day as I won't
have to carry a wet towel. However there are still things in my rucksack,
namely my dirty washing and the blister kit and of course my diary. I am able
to leave the canteen of water which is heavy when full, I am sure St James
would understand. As a lot of people are taking the bus down in time to catch
the mass I feel no guilt and I see no other pilgrims on that last 5 kilometres.
I no longer feel any resentment towards those that don't do all the camino, I
know that they are missing out. I can say with hand on heart that I walked
every kilometre and that I stuck to the original path come what may, I feel
content with this knowledge and feel sad that they have missed an experience.
Within the first kilometre I pass the luxury hotel that I stayed in before
leaving, it seems such a long time ago now. The next surprise is that the
camino takes me down some roads where I had got lost in my car whilst looking
for the hotel, it seems that the camino had taken control of my destiny earlier
than I thought. Walking along a stretch of road that I knew made things easier
so the time passed quicker and the lightened load certainly helped. The
weather was cool but at least it had stopped raining. As I get closer to the
centre the noise of traffic and the seeming immensity of the city are over
awing, I have become more a pilgrim as the days pass and suddenly I don't like
the city noise. The route runs along small streets that no longer have
medieval buildings but are narrow so that they feel as they might have once
been. Suddenly the cathedral towers come into sight, it seems that there is a
yellow light in one of the towers that shines like a beacon and I imagine how
this sight must have felt to the pilgrim of over 1,000 years ago.
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