This is it. The last town I will stay in before Sarria. Sarria is the starting point for 50% of the pilgrims. If you walk 100k and get two stamps every day you can get the compostela, the document that certifies you’ve done the Camino. It’s 117k from Sarria to Santiago, so many pilgrims start there.

The thing that miffs me slightly is I have to do this even though I started in St. Jean. It’s like, in the church’s eyes, everything I’ve done so far is for nothing. But it isn’t.

I’VE WALKED 500 MILES OVER FRICKIN’ BLOODY SPAIN.

I’ve climbed two mountain ranges. I’ve walked across the meseta, ( well, part of it anyway) the part that messes with your head because there’s no trees or water or villages. I’ve walked five miles before breakfast and I’ve walked ten miles after lunch.

I’ve done all of this at 53 with 40 extra pounds (only 20 now), a bad foot and a right knee that needs replacing. I KNOW what I’ve done, whether the church chooses to recognize it or not.

I ditched Judy today. Got up at 5 and was out the door before she got up. While I felt a little badly just taking off, I didn’t really know how to say goodbye to her. But after rereading my blog entries and realizing that I had two days of negativity, where I was processing all the negative things she made me think and feel, I knew we had to separate.

As I walked off into the darkness I didn’t feel badly at all. I felt lighter. The more I walked the better it felt, and I knew this decision was right. And I wondered if I could keep this lesson. Take the negative people in my life, say good-bye to them, and walk away. Or walk away without a goodbye.

The sun was just beginning to be up. I tried and tried to take a picture without flash but I could never turn it off. It always had in the cathedrals, thank God.

As the sun came up I met a group that was laughing and smiling, and I thought, “This. This is what I want. Joy in the trail.” So when they took selfies I joined in. As we were photographing, here came Judy.

I greeted her with a pleased “Hey!” and she said, “Buen Camino.” Then she walked on. She was faster than me today. Maybe now that her dread of O Cebriero is gone she’ll be a faster walker and a better companion. I neither know nor care.

She was there at breakfast when I stopped and it was clear there is no animosity between us. Neither is there closeness, and I’m good with that. Here is a marker I passed. Blow up the picture to see the (what do I say? Mileage isn’t right. Kilometrage?) distance.

I didn’t have food with me when I left O Cebriero at 5:30, and no bar is open that early so no breakfast. After two miles I reached the next village but it was before 7, so no breakfast. Then I had to poop in the woods (not as simple as it sounds) then I missed the trail. Again. A kind Spanish man stopped his truck and let me know I was going the wrong way, but between that and my visit to the nature toilet (as we put it) I didn’t reach the next village until after 8:30. That’s right. It took me THREE HOURS to walk five miles. Don’t do the math. It’s embarrassing.

As I climbed up the last, very steep, hill and around a curve, I heard a rooster crowing. I’ve never been so glad to hear a chicken in my life. Chickens mean civilization. A town was near. Food! The bar is on the very edge of town, right after the hill.

I ordered tortilla patata, cafe con leche, and a large orange juice, which I sucked down immediately. I didn’t finish the tortilla, but put it in a bag for later. (I’m actually having it now as I write.) I don’t remember if I met Jackie there or later.

Jackie is Chinese and from San Francisco. She is with a mission group who are walking the Camino and sharing Jesus with pilgrims. I strongly suspect she is Mormon but would never ask. By a freak coincidence, she also was in a bike accident on September 27th. Hers involved a damaged pancreas and internal bleeding.

We got lost in a cow pasture together (THANK GOD Fred had me get that Trekright app), refused to go under the road together, and now are staying in the same albergue. With Judy, as it happens.

When we got to the albergue the hospitalero held the weight of my backpack as I unbuckled it. I can’t tell you what a difference that small gesture made. Suddenly my pack, that gets heavier when I am tired and hungry, was still mine but had no weight. I could relax. He was taking care of me now. It was wonderful. As wonderful as the morsel of bread with aioli (which I am learning to make ASAP) I was given.

I had lunch around three with Jackie and Sang, who is Korean and lives in D.C. I took a shower, and miracle of miracles, WHAT did I find?

A BATHTUB! I haven’t even SEEN one of those in a month. Unfortunately it would have been too greedy to fill it, but you can bet I put my undies in the drain (there was no stopper) and let SOME water collect from my shower. I shaved my legs and made myself a promise that I am getting in my tub when I get home and I am not coming out till I’m 70. Or until I look like it, whichever comes first.

I washed my clothes and hung them to dry in a space that is open air but roofed with translucent plastic. Called Mom during a break in the rain we’ve been dreading all day. After I was done, it starts REALLY raining. The roof of the outdoor space was a bit drippy so I went to bring in my clothes and just use the dryer. I realize I’m hearing not just rain but hail.

Chunks of ice at least an inch across are thudding onto the skylights. Ice is cold under my bare feet as I bring my clothes in. The building is at least 200 years old, and water is pouring along the beams in the kitchen and dripping onto the dryer, which of course I can’t use now. The hospitalero is frantically mopping. We are saying prayers that there are no pilgrims out walking in this.

The storm finally stops, but I don’t want to go out. I may have to though. Leftover tortilla and an almond cake are not enough fuel to walk 8 miles on. Which is the distance between where I am and my next breakfast.

I went to the nearest bar and got a cheese and pork sandwich. Ate some for dinner and the rest is breakfast. I might sleep in till 6 tomorrow. We’ll see. Gosh I wish that pork sandwich had some aioli.

I’m finishing this entry lying on my top bunk. (Yes, I know, I hate the top.) Cool, fresh, rain-sweetened air is drifting in by my head, carrying whiffs of jasmine and pine. I love Spain.

I actually finished this entry the next morning, in part while I was sitting on the toilet. I’ll be damned if I’m s$&(@ing in the woods again.

Here are the pictures for the walk to O Cebriero. This was a “tree of dreams.” I wrote mine down and tied it to a branch. We left very early.People on the trail didn’t see this. The white in the picture below is clouds, not water. Well, I guess clouds ARE water, but you know what I mean.I am literally on top of a mountain right now. The one Judy stressed over so. After we climbed it, she said, “Well, that wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” I thought, “Honey, NOTHING is as bad as you thought this mountain would be.”

We decided to stay here, even though we were here by 11:30. We’ve been pushing on, walking over 25k each day for two days. She hasn’t had a rest day, and she seriously needed to do laundry. It’s supposed to rain between 3 and 4 (it’s 3:05 now and starting to cloud over) so she needed to wash ASAP. So she did.

Judy doesn’t really know why she came on Camino. I don’t know either, but I hope a lesson she learns is to relax and be content.

She complains that the paths aren’t smoother, and wonders why “the council” doesn’t do something. I’ve already told you she wanted a different mountain. She worries whether we’ll get a bed, and complains if she doesn’t get hotel quality accommodation at an albergue price. (Sorry, Fred, she HATED El Molino. The bathroom ceiling had mold spots, which made it filthy.)

When we are on paths she keeps saying how the road would be better because it’s a more even surface, even though that surface is harder to walk on, in my opinion. I don’t like the road; it makes me nervous.

As we climbed today I missed the trail as it went to the left, and we stayed on the road. Someone pointed it out before we got too far, but we didn’t want to go back. We figured the road would get there too. I thought she’d be pleased, although I didn’t miss the turn deliberately.

Nope.

I heard about how the path looked quite nice, but oh well, we were on the road now, weren’t we.

We had sent our packs on to the only alburgue on my app. It didn’t open till 1. She worried the packs hadn’t gotten here, and bemoaned the fact she hadn’t taken a picture of the flyer for the company that had them, in between worrying that we would get a bed and were we making the right decision by staying.

So we went into a cafe for a coffee and some of the worst apple cake I have EVER had (dry and gummy at the same time; how do you manage that?) and as we were about to leave saw our backpacks!

She was floored, but I said, “This is what I’ve been telling you. This sort of thing has been happening to me for a month.” I hope she learns to relax soon.

We check into the albergue and after she takes a shower she tells me the women’s showers are “disgusting, just disgusting.” I go in prepared for a previously I encountered level of filth. I don’t find it.

What I do find is a complete lack of privacy. No doors. No curtains. No way to hang your towel or anything. I wasn’t pleased either, but hey, it’s the Camino. The thing that pissed me off was there’s WiFi but I can’t access it. You log on and give it your phone number and it sends a text with the password. Only it WONT SEND ME THE TEXT! So I’m in a bar using their WiFi. Judy is napping and the rain is beginning. I hope she wakes up and brings her laundry in.

Despite all the complaints she is an interesting person, and I’m okay with traveling together for now. But if I see a chance to separate without rejection I might take it. No, there’s no might about it. I will.

Here was dinner.

We got up at 6 and were walking by 7. Here is the church in Cacabelos.This is the river on the outside of town. We didn’t stop and have breakfast until we’d done over 4 miles and reached Villafranca del Bierzo. I thought we were going to stop in Trabadelo, but Judy said she wanted to go a town further. The wood was painted blue. No idea why.I love walking during cherry season!A lovely albergue with a pond.This is Ambasmestas, the town right before Vega de Valcarce.

Judy is SERIOUSLY freaked out by the idea of climbing to O Cebriero. For two days I have heard how hard it’s going to be, how she’ll send her pack on, how we have to get as close as possible so we can be fresh for the climb.

Judy started in Burgos, not St. Jean, so she didn’t climb over the Pyrenees. I’m keeping quiet, but I keep thinking, “I climbed over the Pyrenees when there was two more pounds in my pack and at least ten more pounds of me. I think I’ll be fine.” But I don’t say it. I just smile and let her stress.

She kept complaining, asking why we had to go over a mountain like that, and I finally said, “Because that’s the mountain that’s there. We can’t call up God and order a different one.” The climb is tomorrow. I’ll be glad to get it over so I can stop hearing about it.

Anyway, she, like my other crew before her, doesn’t believe me when I tell her how far things are and how long it will take to reach them. My app became useless for awhile, since we were not taking the scenic route it wanted us to take but a shorter one that followed the road. Judy likes roads. I don’t. So we really had no judge of how far we’d come or how much further there was to go other than Judy’s phone.

When we got to Trabadelo we talked about lunch, but she wanted to go on to “Valcarce,” which is the name of the local river. I thought she meant “La Portela de Valcarce,” which was less than three miles or about an hour. So I agreed.

But she meant “Vega de Valcarce,” which was another three miles after that. She wouldn’t believe it was that far or that it would take us over two hours. Just like my conejitos. But we walked as long as I said and arrived when I said. (Sigh.) I gotta break in another one.

So I walked 8 hours and over 15 miles on a slice of tortilla patata, a slice of bread, a slice of marble cake, a cup of coffee, and later s croissant. No wonder I’m losing weight.

When we got up it was raining, a cold gray rain. Many times, as I climbed up and down the hills, I thought how horrible it would be to do it in the rain. The paths would become rushing streams, the rocks slippery.

So Judy, Louise, and I shared a taxi down to Ponferrada. We’d already done the worst of the descent, but there were still several hours of straight down left to go. So even though the taxi cost 27 euros, instead of 15, we still considered it worth it.

We sat in a cafe and talked, took care of bank and pharmacy needs, then headed out to Cacabelos. The rain had stopped, but it was VERY humid.

Fred told me his favorite restaurant in Cacabelos was El Molino, where we happened to be staying. Judy and I didn’t eat there. Instead we met Charlie and Karen, both teachers, and ate somewhere else. Louise stayed and watched the football match between England and Croatia.

We went back to the albergue just a little before 10. I went straight to bed (on the top bunk. I HATE the top bunk) where I slept very badly.

Then we left for Trabadelos.

I sent my pack on today, because Fred said if I sent it on NO OTHER DAY send it on for this one. I am so glad I did. I had breakfast and a glass of orange juice. Now tell me, does this look like a $2.50 glass to you?I love Spain in the early light of morning.

I met Judy and we began traveling together. This spring was a lovely find. The water was clear and cold. This is the only picture where I’ve had to edit out a finger.This looks like it might be the Masonic symbol.

We had lunch in Foncebadón.

After Foncebadón was the Cruz de Ferro.

There’s a separate entry on that one. Then we started down.Remember those mountains I said I’d have to climb? I’m in them now.

This is Manjarín. A town of one. You can stay here, but there’s no electricity. Judy and I skipped it.

I didn’t take pictures of the difficult trail. I was too busy navigating it. Here are pictures before that part.

The trail was horribly steep, full of rocks ready to roll under your feet. I’d gone down inclines like that before, but never for so long. Four hours worth. I couldn’t walk properly after. All during the night my ankle ached every time I stretched. It still did the next morning.

We found a lovely albergue. Here was my first course of the pilgrim’s dinner.

Melon and Serrano ham.

I washed and put my laundry on the line. Thank God I bought quick drying fabrics. They were done in two hours, so I could bring them in before the rain started.

This was sunset from the albergue.

Today is the day. The day I’ve thought about more than Santiago. The day I talked about to others when I talked about the Camino. The day I lay my burden down before the cross.

Today, July 10, is the day my father died, and today I give my burden to the Father who died for me. There is probably significance in that. But frankly, if I think about it too much I’ll cry, and I don’t want to cry.

I have my rock in my pocket. So many times I’ve checked on that rock. Do I have it? Has it fallen out? I’m sending my pack on today, and I’ve worried time and again I’d forget to take out the rock first. Yep, that almost happened. But it didn’t. It is with me, a solid weight against my right thigh.

At first I put the rock in my day pack, but I moved it to my pocket. I want it with me today. I’ve got at least 10 miles before I reach the cross, and about 7 more after. I don’t know what they’ll be like, but I need to get started.

I’m going to separate what happened today other than the Cruz de Ferro into its own entry.

As I walked this am, I thought about my dad. I thought about the man he was before he became a sad, sick, self-absorbed shell of a man. And I found myself saying, “You let me down, Dad. You were supposed to love me, and you let me down. You weren’t who I needed you to be. Maybe you couldn’t be other than you were, but it didn’t feel like you tried. And I’m mad about that.

I’ve lived with the name of a man I don’t love for ten years because I didn’t want yours and I didn’t have another. I didn’t want you honored. I didn’t want you REMEMBERED. How could I honor what you became?”

The tears flowed down my cheeks as I walked, and I was so glad I was alone. Some Italian cyclists probably thought I was crazy but who cares. And I realized that the man my father became was not the only man he was.

He was intelligent and capable, becoming a supervisor at the post office. He won B.B. gun championships for 10 years. He was a beta-tester for Daisy BB gun and he trained as a judge for the Olympics, making it through several elimination rounds. THAT was also who he was, as real as the other who slowly rotted before my eyes.

And I decided THAT man I could remember. THAT man I could honor by retaking his name. And so I have decided that, after 10 years of kind of …erasing my father altogether, I have let in a man who existed until 1982. The other I have discarded. Maybe, after another Camino, I can integrate the two. Or maybe not. But this is good for now.

Around 10 I met Judy, and we stayed together most of the day. She took my picture at the Cruz de Ferro. Maybe when it’s not so late and I’m not so tired tomorrow I can put in some of what i wrote Webb Elementary. But now I’m falling asleep as I type. Goodnight.

Here is what I wrote to Webb.

Dear Webb Family, 

Today I placed our rock at the Cruz de Ferro. I cried as I saw the cross in the distance, raised on a hill as Calvary must have been raised. The mound of stones is huge, 50 ft high at least. It was sobering and yet heartwarming to think of the centuries of pilgrims (at least nine, it was placed here in the 11th century) who said, “Here, God, Here is my burden.” Literally millions of people over 1,000 years, all turning to the One who can carry them.

And I was part of them.

But carrying the rock meant so much more, was so much more.

That rock kept me going the first day. Walking 16 miles up and over a 4,200 ft mountain was hard. Very, very hard, especially for a 53 year old with bad knees who lives 400 ft above sea level. 

As I scrambled over rocks and slogged through mud, I wanted to give up. Just say, “I can’t do this,” take my money and bum around Italy for a month. But I couldn’t. 

You had trusted me. Given me the symbol of your burdens and I had promised to carry them for you. How could I go back and say, “Your burden was too heavy.” “I wasn’t equal to the task.” “I gave up the first day.”

So I kept on that day, 10 hours of walking up and over the mountain. And on a few other occasions, when the sun was hot, when my feet and knees ached, when I was tired and hungry and thirsty, I thought of this day, and I went on. 

I am telling you this not so you will honor me, but so you will better understand and honor the One who did the same for us and so much more. 

After I laid the rock down I kept my hand on it and prayed that each of you might be relieved of the burdens for which this rock was a symbol.

 But while that rock may have been a weight in my backpack, to carry it was not a burden but a blessing. Thank you. 

Now on to Santiago!

Since I’m not limited on pictures here, I’ll post the rest.

If I’m going to make Santiago by the 19th, I’ve got to walk further. The problem is I walk so slowly. Someone who walks 3+ mph can do 15 miles or more a day. That mileage for someone who walks 2 mph means they are still walking at 3 and 4 in the afternoon, during the heat of the day. But that’s what I have to do now, at least for awhile.

I was alone most of today. I met Hector, who is 19 and does 30+k a day. He wants to do a night walk. I’m game, but not completely sure how it will work. Here are today’s pictures.Albergue Verde at sunrise The fields by morning light.A pilgrim at the crossroads See those mountains? I’m going to have to cross them.I don’t know if you can tell, but the wheat stems are blue.Yep. Have to cross these, I’m sure.This is all of us.Looks like there’s a rollercoaster on the other side, doesn’t it? Just how we cross the RR tracks.Astorga If Harry Potter was in Spain, these would functional and only LOOK disused to muggles like us.The Cathedral in Astorga. What a mishmash!This was cool.The courtyard at my albergue. I love Spain.

Tomorrow is the Cruz de Ferro. Mom thinks I should mention that. Now I have.

Julia asked me to wake her up to say goodbye, but when I went to do it she wasn’t in her bunk. I went for breakfast and met Ricardo, who is taking a rest day. We talked politics till 10, then went to see the cathedral. OMG, you guys.

It was indescribable. I was nearly speechless. So many windows and colors! The stone soars overhead, and you just feel your whole body being pulled upward to God. There was music playing softly, a kind of Gregorian chant, but it was almost as if the stone had a music of its own.

A beautiful multifaceted harmony, not brash and brassy like Burgos (Listen, God, listen, listen, listen!), or a quiet whispering song (Do you hear, God? I know You’re there) like Santo Domingo de Caldzada. No, this was clear and confident, almost as if the church sang and God was singing back. Pictures will never, never do it justice. You must see for yourself.

in the cathedral I met Margrette, whom I had not seen since Logrono. She is going home tomorrow. I talked to her and her friends till almost 12. Then i wended my way to the bus station.

All through the Camino I have asked myself, “Which is my city? The one my soul says, “Yes. Here. Here I could rest.”? That city is Leon. I don’t know if it’s because the streets are wider, or it’s cleaner, or what. But of the cities I have seen, I like Leon best.

I caught the bus with no problem and found my way to Albergue Verde without too much difficulty. I met Chris, Gabriel, and a girl from Lithuania I have met before. I have since been lying in a hammock with a sleeping puppy in my lap, being guarded by the other dogs (well, not exactly guarded) or sitting on a terrace just big enough for me with my feet up, sipping tea. Screw the Camino. I’m spending the rest of my life here.

Well, maybe not. Dinner was delicious, don’t get me wrong. The “green drink,” which was spinach and avocado soup, didn’t really send me but it was good. The fried millet burgers were surprisingly good, and you can never go wrong with baked potato and grilled onion. But permanent vegan is not my style. And it isn’t my mother’s either, though I thought of her the entire meal.

I am skipping the fire meditation and going to bed. Goodnight.

I don’t think I took a single picture today until Leon. Bjorn, Julia, and I got a very late start. 8:30!We had a bite with the fathers then started walking. My app became useless a little before Caldzada del Coto because it was giving me the route through the fields. Longer and no villages. So we followed the path by the road, which is what the pilgrim map tells you to take.

We met Christina and Lukas and had a bocadillo de tortilla at a new albergue in Bercianos del Real Camino. Basically I had an omelette sandwich. We then walked to El Burgo Ranero.

Bjorn and Julia were staying in the albergue El Nogal, but I had always planned to take a taxi to León from whatever town I walked to today.

When I saw the albergue, I was glad I wasn’t staying there. I don’t know why. I didn’t really go in, but what I saw seemed clean and the woman was pleasant. I just remember thinking, “Better you than me.” The woman told me that I could get a taxi in the bar. So I went down and ordered it.

I met Bjorn and Julia on their way from getting her pack from the albergue where she’d shipped it. Julia quietly told me El Nogal gave her a bad vibe, and she also felt awkward about staying in a room alone with Bjorn. (The other albergue was full.)

So when my taxi arrived I said to Bjorn, “You’re going to behave yourself, right?” Not that I had any doubt at all, but I thought it would help Julia to hear it. Next thing I know, Julia is offering to share the taxi with me, and has put the pack she just picked up in the trunk. Neither of us could explain what was “off” about El Nogal, And both of us felt sorry for Bjorn who was stuck there. But not enough that we were willing to be stuck there also.

So now she and I are in a lovely hostel in Leon. She will stay till Christina arrives on Monday. I am taking either the bus or a taxi to Hospital de Orbigo, where I have a reservation at Albergue Verde for tomorrow. I’ll resume walking after that.

Speaking of walking, I met Koje. He is 75 and from Japan. He left St. Jean on June 20. That’s right, FIVE DAYS after I did. I’m being lapped by someone 22 years older than I am. Bjorn’s right. I’m drinking sake from now on.This tree has absolutely the sweetest smelling flowers. Julia and I had a dessert. They were both awful .

I’m on the top bunk, which is usually not my preference, but I’ve got the curtain in mine drawn and it’s like my own little nest up here. Goodnight.

Today’s walk was short, so Bjorn and I stayed together the whole time. We had coffee and I had some pastries in the albergue. Then we found a bar and had more coffee and tortilla patata (such good stuff, I’ll have to make some for the people at home) then walked to San Nicholas de Real Camino, where we stopped again.

On the way, we saw this.

Bjorn also pointed out the knitted art. It is done by the people of the city, who add to it as they choose.

In San Nicholas we met Dalilah and Davide, who are traveling together now. Davide is from the Moscato region of Italy. I think he is much better for Dalilah than Giorgio.

Anyway, I sat on the patio, admiring the iron scrollwork and listening to the wind in the cottonwood trees, drinking a Coke Zero and talking about…s$&t. Not shooting the s$&t or talking s$&t, but talking ABOUT s)&t. Just the conversation for a garden in Spain.

Dalilah and Bjorn met Juan, whom they had met before they met me, and who asked about Giorgio. They could only say, “He left.”

I lost Bjorn between San Nicholas and Sahagun. I had to make a quick trip into the bushes, and he walked on. Then I took a look at this church.

This was the floor.

I plan to call this number tomorrow, or rather have the priests call it. Or maybe I will get Dalilah to do it.

Of course I got lost on the way to our albergue. When is there a major city in Spain where I do NOT get lost? But I found my way eventually to the Monasterio de Santa Cruz. Yes, we are staying in a monastery. Here are the ruins of the old one.

Here is the new one.

Here is where you can get an official certificate of halfway completion.

You pay to enter the museum and give them your credencial. After you see the exhibits you get this.