This is it. The final albergue before Santiago. I’m nervous, sad, weepy, and excited all at once. I keep checking my credencial. Have I remembered to get TWO stamps a day after Sarria? I forgot yesterday and had to walk back into town and get one at a bar.
The bar wasn’t bad, but the terrace was full of these winged insects. They didn’t bite and they moved fairly slowly, but they were EVERYWHERE. They kept crawling on me. I had my shoes off so going inside wasn’t an option. Maybe they were the reason I lost that post.
I walked with no one today. I was alone the whole day. I saw Liz before she left and I thought we might see each other on the trail, but I never did. I couldn’t leave with her; I had to poop. Pooping in the woods really isn’t possible now; there are too many pilgrims and so many houses you’d be pooping in someone’s backyard. (And pooping in the woods was so enjoyable, anyway.) I still have seen pilgrims doing it, sometimes with a bar still in sight, The bars are getting a little picky about customers only, so I guess these pilgrims can’t or won’t buy anything.
Today I walked into s bar and there was a Coke Zero already out on the counter. I just stared at it in confusion. Was I famous? Was there a network of bar owners messaging each other, saying, “Now watch for the blond American in the hat.”?
It was for someone else, of course, but the waitress gave me my own. You know, I was about to type “the only other thing memorable today” when I totally forgot about getting lost on the highway!
I was coming through Arzúa. With my uncanny ability to lose my way I ended up on a frickin’ HIGHWAY! Cars and trucks are zooming past, some not staying in their lane but coming onto the shoulder where I am. I start hugging the guardrail every time one comes by.
Whenever the shoulder widens a bit I study my map, trying to find where this road and the Camino link up. Curves are the worst. That’s when the cars can’t see you and, not expecting you to be there, drift onto the shoulder.
So when this highway reaches a curve I notice there is a dirt track beside it. I take it. I’m not on the Camino. I don’t care. I’m off the highway and traveling in roughly the right direction. The track dips lower and lower. I’m now following what is essentially a paved over stream bed. I still don’t care.
Finally I get back to the highway. I THINK the road I need is off to my right, so I cross and start up the dirt track. A whistle gets my attention.
Across the highway is an old man, waving and yelling, “No.” I head back, but I can’t cross now because the curve is against me. I can’t see around it. He puts his hand up in a “stop” gesture, and watches the traffic intently. Cars and trucks zoom past, frightening in their proximity.
At last he nods and I cross. I get what is half directions, half a lecture in Spanish. I don’t understand all of it, but I understand “Muy peligroso.” You ain’t just whistling Dixie, Buddy. He tells me how to get to the Camino and I do without incident.
I walk, resist a REALLY good-looking “Tarte Christina,” eat a delicious croissant bocadillo and some ice cream, drink Coke Zero, and the only OTHER thing that happens is my charging cord quits working.
This is critical. The cord I brought from the states quit, so Giorgio gave me his extra. Now THAT one isn’t working.
One of my good decisions was to buy pants and shorts with knee pockets. When my phone gets low, charger goes in the left, phone goes in the right, and the cord stretches across. I frequently loop it into my money belt. (Another very good decision.) But it ISN’T working.
This means my charger, the plugs in the albergue, everything is useless. There is no way to get power from there to the phone. I plug and unplug, turning the small white tab one way and then another. I keep getting the same message. “This accessory may not be supported.”
What!? It’s been supported for almost a month; why this message NOW? I’m supposed to call the albergue to confirm my reservation; I can’t. Compass? Gone. Map? Gone. Camera? Gone. Contact with family, blog, everyone and everything? Gone.
When I get to the albergue I ask the hospitalera if there is a place to buy a new cord. She tells me of one possibility but doesn’t sound hopeful. (With reason, it turns out.)
When I go out to dinner I take the charger and cord. Maybe when they’re flat on the table…it works! I google “charging cords for sale near me” and learn there is a store 13k away in Santiago. (Santiago de Compostela is more than 13k away; I think it’s in a suburb.) I will try and find it or something like it on my way in.
I can’t believe tomorrow is the day! I was crying earlier, because I couldn’t believe I was going to walk in to Santiago alone. I miss Dalilah and Bjorn and Julia, as well as Kristina and Lukas (although walking in to Santiago with them was never an option.) My conejitos. And I asked myself if Finisterre and Muxia were really worth it. (Stupid question. I’m committed now.)
But then I remembered the highway. (As an aside, it seems my life’s ambition is to be hit by a car. Why is that?) I remembered meeting Bev again (I walked with her a bit again today, but she was meeting some Australian girls and didn’t offer to have me join them.) I remembered meeting Dalilah in the garden at Tosantos, in an albergue off the beaten path where none of us were supposed to be. I remembered my mochilla just “happening” to be in a bar where I was having a snack. All throughout this journey, time after time, people and things were there when I needed them. And so they will be tomorrow.
But if I could make a request, it would be to arrive in Santiago with Bev, Jackie, Liz, and Han, to see Chris and Gabriel (who are already there) and for Dalilah, Davide, Bjorn, and Julia to arrive on either the 24th or 25th so I could see them before I leave. This is my wish. This is my prayer. I hope God reads.
Here are pictures.
Marker 39
This a wall of questions designed to make you question everything you believe.
This was a true beer garden.
Marker 29
Pilgrims on horses
The dog is wearing a concha.
At first I thought there was something wrong with this little guy. He moved funny I don’t think he’s a mouse.. He was nibbling pine needles.
Travels and Adventures with Jane 