Along the Merry Way....

I stopped in Sarria and had salad with Ester. Then went to mass and afterwards chatted with the English family that are traveling with their two children and two mules for baggage (very dear :). Next day I walked to Portomarin, a gorgeous town overlooking a great bay where the original city lies buried beneath the water. Who should show up, but my Spanish friends—Laura and Juan and Juan! They showed up about 2, then they left around 4. After around 1/2 an hour, I don't know what possessed me but I walked after them—another 12 km's! Madness. In the rain too....Well, we didn't reach the albergue until nearly 7 p.m. However, Juan #1 (the one who looked like Jesus) made delicious tea, and I sang for them. This morning we had fun walking, singing, and chatting. We passed a Eucalyptus grove where I picked leaves and saved them to bring home and make tea in Canada. It is wonderful to be young, happy, and independent. "Be not afraid." — John Paul II. Juan #1 is incredibly...

This morning it rained and rained and rained. But, this afternoon has been gloriously sunny. I met Ester in a bar, and we had a grand time. She is so much fun—accompanying all her conversation with really funny sound effects. "Chuca, chuca, chuca, chuca," or "Brip, brip, brip, brip..." She always sleeps in the bunk below me when we are in the same albergue. I only walked around 15 km's today, but I was tired and needed to rest (plus Sunday mass!). I walked with the big Brazilian fellow (same as in the snowstorm) and he kept calling me in Portuguese "The bird that sings." (Note: he had a nick-name for everyone on the trail). We took the bike route because of all the mud even though it was a bit longer. We walked with another Spanish guy as well and taught him English. Great fun even in the rain. Santiago is just over 100 km's away!!!

Note: O'Cebreiro was a fascinating town with ancient, round-shaped stone buildings with thatched roofs. I was walking in the country side, totally surrounded by mist and only able to see the ground in front of me and dripping tree-branches that lurked by the path. Suddenly, following alongside of me was a stone wall, so I knew that I must be near some kind of civilization. The path took a twist and then entered through a gap in the stone wall. When I reached the mountaintop town, it was completely filled with fog. I was alone and the only sounds beneath the dead weight of the fog were the click-clacking of my staff on the cobbled streets and some eerie celtic-music playing from a building somewhere. The streets were deserted, but I found my way to the pilgrim refuge. I managed to rustle up some bread and cheese from a little store. Eventually more sodden-looking pilgrims drifted in, including the young Spaniards. Laura was so dead-beat from the mountain trek that she was almost in ...

I left next morning in a great mist that lifted once or twice to reveal stunning views of green rolling farmland and sprinklings of villages. (Note: I'm always amazed by how the locals manage to farm on such steep land. It looks as thought the fields will slip off and go pouring down after the flocks of sheep)...Today was simply enchanted. After the pouring, typically-Galician rain stopped, the sun came out and dried my clothes I walked through leaf-covered paths that were surrounded by ivy-laden trees. I sloshed through barnyards, patted a few stray dogs, and sang, sang, sang! I passed bright blue flowers, butterflies, and brilliant green fields. The little villages seemed to be from a different era entirely. Never have I seen places so beautiful. Rushing streams and old stone bridges are everywhere, and the air smells of wildflowers. Note: It is ironic, but no wonder that Gerardo, the passionate young Spanish atheist, says that his home province "es como en el cielo"—li...

Many adventures later...Today was one of the best days ever. I have been hiking with three fun and very generous Spaniards but man do they take their time! Last night we stayed in a really funky, hippie-sort of place with a warm fire and a cluttered, log cabin look. The hospitaleros made us a huge dinner, slapping down large trays of foods—soup, fried eggs, meat, and more. Enough for a week. This morning, however, I could not bear it any longer, and I took off like a horse. I hiked ALONE through the mountains—a longer but more beautiful route. The trail then passed through many tiny ancient villages. The countryside is wet, but luscious and green. Cows, sheep, and mules graze, while shepherds putter along behind. I met an old woman in an apron who told me in a mothering way that I should put something warmer on. (She chided me, saying, "What do your parents think about you traipsing around alone Spain, chica guapissima?" She didn't actually use the word "traipsing,...

They say that it's even more difficult to stop walking the Camino than to start walking. This is very true. After a grueling first week, everything falls into place. The joints move smoothly and the pack seems weightless. The rough part is getting used to the busy pace of life with all it's demands and distractions once you've left the peace of the trail. That, and your legs ache for a rough path. Some people can't face real life. They are never able to stop walking--like the pilgrim from Barcelona. You just walk back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.....

I finally arrived at Samos where there is a hill top view of the monastery. It is huge and ancient, founded in the 6th Century and belonging to the Benedictines. In the evening, after touring the parts of the monastery open to visitors, I went to Vespers with the monks. Note: The monastery comes as quite a surprise—you are walking through the woods and then, bam, a massive square building with a courtyard in the centre appears nestled in the trees of the valley below you.