| 01/07/03 |
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Today was the worst day of the entire camino. I left the refugio around 7.15h. My shoes are still moist but the weather is looking somewhat better. I take 2 leftover nurofen and get going, at least I try to. Everything pulls the wrong way, my backpack feels bad, my knees hurt and my feet ache. Great.
After having crossed a very rickety iron bridge, the path leads immediately up a forest-y hill. The view reminds me of the Alps, little villages gleam in the distance but I don't enjoy it. Everything just hurts too much. It's very cool today, no rain but I keep the poncho close just in case. The path goes up and down and even with the elastic bandage, my knee protests. After 7km, I reach Gonzar where I rest a while and wonder if I'm going to be able to do the planned route today.
There are a lot of people on the road, pilgrims, wannabe-pilgrims and large groups of young people. With my courage hanging somewhere around the freezing point, I decide to go on. We pass two stinky factories (dairy and chickens) on the way to Castromaior where again I rest up in a bar. A young dog comes begging for caresses which I gladly give even though he deposits a lot of mud on my pants. After a while and the arrival of a van of tourists, I head on in the rain. Difficultly, I climb up and down a few hills and feel blisters forming on my heels. The lining of my shoes is torn in those places and rubs.
I trudge through a few villages, over another hill and finally arrive in Airexe. It took me 5 hours to cover 17km. After a lunch of pasta, I take a freezing shower, was a shirt which I know won't be dry in the morning and crawl in bed for the rest of the day. I'm cold and annoyed. Bad day.
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| 02/07/03 |
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Thanks to a generous dose of Advil, I sleep well till 5.30, but only get up an hour later. It really helped. To be on the safe side, I take another pill and get going around 7.30. It's not raining and the weather is cool so my tempo is pretty good for an hour or so. Then I feel my blister rub raw underneath my bandage. I decide to rest a while by the side of the road and take care of my poor little foot. I take a look at the disaster area and make a nice little collage of compeed and tape. The whole mess is finally fixed and the pain seems to diminish.
I walk completely alone today. The road leads to a nice countryside dotted with hamlets and quiet dogs. Once in Palas de Rei, there are more and more groups on the road and we follow each other all the way to Melide. They all carry daypacks so I assume the have vehicle support. What bothers me is that these groups arrive first in the larger refuges and get first dibs on the beds. I walk quickly through the town, across the road and through the next village where I rest a few minutes. The camino now leads us on forest paths, the ground is very soggy. From time to time, we cross a small asphalt road or pass by a few farms. I arrive in Casanova two hours later where I rest on a bench in front of the refugio. A robin and a jay are hopping up and down the branches of an old tree and I admire the circus for a while. Unfortunately, they quickly fly away when a noisy group of tourist-pilgrims shows up. I decide to go on. I feel somewhat better so I hope to reach Melide today.
It's a rather nice walk really, through forests, the weather stays cool and I manage to keep my tempo high. I have another coffee and sello at a very welcome bar where I'm suddenly joined by a horde of tourists. The road becomes a bit unpleasantly crowded and lies next to a busy road. I rest a few more minutes at a large Santiago cross and memorial but leave when I see the tourists arrive in the distance. The road leads past a small industrial zone before entering a village that has become a suburb of Melide. It has some very pretty chalet-type houses and a picturesque old bridge with an ogee arch (?). Some 200m further, I arrive in Melide. I follow a strange little trio of pilgrims (a Frenchman and two Danish ladies) towards the large refugio where, as I expected, the group of youngsters with the vehicle support have already taken over a large part of the refugio. I've noticed that since Galicia where the refugios are not held by volunteers but by paid personnel, the general quality has much declined in comparison with the other provinces. Mostly, they're not kept well and often dirty. The same here in Melide. The beds as well as the showers and bathrooms are quite filthy. I take care to rub my feet with an anti-fungal cream after the shower and re-plaster the disaster area on my heel.
I decide to try the pulpo for lunch and head for the famous Pulperia Ezequil, which you rather have to see to believe. I wonder about health inspection in Spain but the pulpo is excellent, the bread delicious and the sparkly cloudy Ribeiro wine sweet. The wine is also very alcoholic and after two glasses, I'm about ready to waddle and weave my way back to the refuge.
I figure out I've miscalculated my arrival day in Santiago, I'd given June 31 days. This means I should arrive around the sixth. Part of me really wants to go home but the rest of me fears going back to my 9-5 life. Even though it didn't feel so in the Pyrenees, these two months have flown past. But here I am already at the end of my story. It's a shame but I don't want to walk the rest of the way regretting it went so well and therefore fast. I want to be proud because I did this, alone and it was fantastic. I've been afraid and lonely and I've enjoyed myself. This is the best thing I've ever done and I'm very proud of myself. I'm also somewhat drunk and ready to glide of the bench in the restaurant. I decide to go take a nap in the refuge after calling my parents who are quite amused.
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| 03/07/03 |
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I get up somewhat late today and get going around 7.30h. The blisters that have formed on the wound on my heel hurt a lot even though I've taken an Advil. I suspect I'll have to slow down today. It's quite cool outside, cloudy and humid and there's some fog. Almost immediately after leaving the refuge, we're on a forest path that leads us through a sleepy little hamlet. The path is muddy but not dangerously so. The normal trees slowly turn into eucalypts that tower high. The smell is wonderful and even though I crunch up a leaf and sniff the bark of the tree, I can't pinpoint what exactly gives off the smell. The trunks are fairly pale in comparison with other trees and they seem to loom in the mist.
I walk alone along misty path until I reach Castaneda. The path goes up and down a lot and I think we're playing hide and seek with the carretera. After a nasty little climb through a desolate eucalypt forest, I rest up a while. Unfortunately, the only bar is about 200m in the wrong direction. After my little rest, my tempo has diminished. After a number of ups and downs, I finally arrive in one of the three Rikadisos where there's a bar open. I gladly have a coffee and a rest. The last few kilometres are hard and slow but I finally arrive in the outskirts of Arzua. I reach the albergue after half an hour or so and place my backpack in line for a two-hour wait. The refugio has a kitchen where no one is allowed to cook and showers without privacy.
The blisters on my toes look nasty and I'm quite tired and a bit depressed. I'm getting tired of the communal living. On the bright side, the sky has really cleared today. I have a good lunch in a bar across the road and buy some stuff for the next few days in a nice supermercado.
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| 04/07/03 |
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I got up rather late today again. I see no reason to get up early since there is no scorching heat to avoid. I packed calmly and got going around 7.25h. It's rather cold (around 10°C) but I don't feel like wearing either my fleece or my k-way, I'll heat up while walking. It's again rather foggy but that just adds to the atmosphere as the path leads through the woods. My tempo is rather low as my legs hurt but I feel fine. I sing a song or twenty, while passing by a few hamlets. Suddenly, the sun breaks through to the clouds to the amazement of all. I cover the next 8km in an hour and a half and rest a bit at a temporary bar where I have a nice coffee and some delicious tuna empanada. Sunglasses on, we all enjoy the warmth until a large group of touri-pilgrims arrives. It's a funny sight, the real pilgrims glance around a few seconds, glance at each other and, as a man, hoist up backpacks and go. I up the tempo a little to stay ahead of the group and walk mindlessly towards St Irene. The sun really comes out now and the warmth feels good on these ole' bones. I have dreams of clean, dry laundry.
There are a lot of people on the road with tiny daypacks and obviously unused to the handling of a staff. I try to ignore them but they're very much there, noisily so. The path, which ran next to the carretera, suddenly wants us to cross the busy road and after looking left and right a dozen times, I quickly march across. I decide to rest for a while at the Alto de Santa Irene and watch the world go by. My feet hurt a lot and I suspect a Gettysburg in my shoes. I finally feel ready to go on and due to bad arrowing, need to cross the carretera three more times before ending up at the correct side. After a short, pleasant walk through the eucalypts I arrive at Santa Irene. The private albergue is a little to dear for me (9€ bed + 6€ food, no kitchen, no shops) and decide to head for the municipal refugio. I wait for it to open while enjoying the lovely weather. I finally get to wash my clothes since they'll dry quickly in the sun. Yay, no more stinkee me. Unfortunately, both the toilets and the showers are rather dirty. I cook my mediocre meal on a horribly rusted electrical plate and take a nap on one of the benches outside, enjoying the sun.
So, how are my feet? A massacre, the worst in the entire two months. I have two bloody blisters on each foot in the same places (little toe and ankle). Obviously, my shoes are worn on those spots. It's a good thing I'm at the end of my camino.
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| 05/07/03 |
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I start the day by jumping up in my bed, unbelieving that it's already 6.30h. I check my cell phone to make sure but yes, that's the time. The sun rises later here than in the mountains where it dawned around 6.15. With many whimpers and moans, I get dressed, fed and ready to go. The path leads immediately through a eucalypt forest. I inhale the scented air and enjoy the peace and quiet. After crossing the road and passing a hamlet, we follow forest paths and pasture-roads until Arca. I walk difficultly and my toe feels under pressure. I stop a bit and remove one of the insoles from my shoes but it doesn't help much. In fact, it helps so little that I rest a on a low wall an hour later and redo the entire bandage-and-collage work. Que dolor! But it helps and I walk easier afterwards. The path leads quickly back into the eucalypts where I sometimes expect a hobbit to cross the path. There is no interruption until I reach Lavacolla which seems like an unfriendly village. I quickly walk through it and rest at a smelly little stream 500m further. The Guardia Peregrines drives past and glances in my direction but as I show no sign of distress, they move on. A few more pilgrims pass, but the large groups seem to have gone from the camino.
After the rest, I hardly get up. My feet protest loudly against further km but are told to hold their rebellious little tongues. It's really now, at the end of the road, that everything seriously begins to hurt. Usually, I'd take a rest day around now, so I suppose it's normal. My body is tired. I trudge on to the next village where a farmer on horseback is leading cows to the pasture. I wonder if they earn enough here to survive just by farming. I go on difficultly towards San Paio where a cat or five wanders about. In the distance, I spot the ugly statue on top of Monte de Gozo. Finally. I hang in there and walk through the village and up the hill and then I'm there. The statue really is ugly and trees obscure the view of Santiago but I'm there. I rest a while at the foot of the monument, take a few pictures and decide to head for the refugio. I light a candle in the chapel and enter the military-like albergue a bit further on. It's quite Spartan and impersonal but I have a bed, a clean shower, toilet paper and a Laundromat which makes me very happy. I call home, wash my clothes, and have a bite in the large cafeteria and rest. Tomorrow, I reach my goal. It's a bout time and yet I'm sorry that it ends. I don't think I'll ever get used to not walking.
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| 06/07/03 |
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Santiago 8h54
Well, there you are. I made it.
I leave the refugio around seven and arrive in front of the cathedral about an hour later. At last. At first I feel fine but become very emotional when I call home. The cathedral is completely empty save for a few pilgrims. The lights are still mostly out and the atmosphere is perfect. I lay my hand on the Portica de la Gloria. I'm just a drop in an ocean of past pilgrims. What rapture and joy it must have been for them. The Portico de la Gloria is without doubt, one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. The statues are wonderfully lifelike and one can imagine them getting of their pedestals at night to gossip and make music.
I feel rather fuzzy for the rest of the day. I get my compostella after having haunted the cathedral for about an hour. Afterwards I try to find a pension and having wandered through the Rua Vilar and the Rua Nova, I finally decide on Hostal Estella, right next to the cathedral on the Plaza de Obradoiro. Shared bathroom on the hall but a large clean room with an excellent bed. I leave my backpack behind and wander around. At 11.30 I start thinking of the Pilgrim's Mass and enter the cathedral. It's completely full but I manage to find a spot on the stairs in front of the Plaza de Immaculado doorway. De mass is preceded by a bishop from Philadelphia. When the countries are gone over, I hear 3 Belgians arrived from Le Puy and 5 from St Jean, including me. Yay. Many groups seem to have arrived today so the list goes on for a while. The mass is long but we are rewarded with the swinging of the botafumeiro at the end. It's very impressive and one can see the coals flame on the downswing. The botafumeiro spews thick clouds of incense over the crowds. After mass, there are about 150 people queuing to give an ambrazado to the apostle, so I decide to do it another time. I wander again through the cathedral, head out to buy some postcards and go for lunch, delicious scampi. Afterwards, I head back to the hostal and nap a few hours. In the evening, I book my flight home in an internet café and have a bad dinner in an Italian restaurant.
I'm here.
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