Riding the Train, Remembering the Trail

Today, Nov. 10 we are on the train across Spain.  A little bit over 12 hours from Santiago to Barcelona.  From the Atlantic Coast to the Mediterranean before the day is done.  Nine of the 12 hours will roughly parallel the Camino as it meanders through town after town familiar to all Pilgrims.  In nine short hours we will retrace most of what it took 48 days to walk.  It's hard to not think back to the events of those towns. 

Ponferrada is the first familiar one.  We were there on Sunday, Sept. 28,  There was an international Bike Race in town, and the rain was falling.   We had a room with our Dutch friend Exle, and a friendly Irish man named Tom.  In the morning Tom said, "I hope I didn't snore.  My wife tells me I tend to do that sometime."  Sorry Tom, but this time your wife is right. REALLY, REALLY RIGHT.

Next stop - Astorga.  Friday, Sept. 26.  A morning at the hospital while Lorraine had her feet tended  to.  A walk back to the restaurant because I forgot to pay for breakfast this morning.  Find a fruit stand, take a few pictures of another magnificent Cathedral, and get back on the trail to see if we can make up for some lost time.  

After lunch, Walk another 12 km in the afternoon to Lorraine's favorite albergue of the trip, a really nice one in the "town" of Santa Calalina de Somosa.  

When we think of Astorga, we think the day before, and meeting  David, who lives 6 km out of town on top of a hill in a house with two walls and a blanket to make up the other two walls.  David has chosen to live there in order to serve pilgrims, and he served us well.  "Welcome to Paradise", he intones as we approach.  And then proceeds to show what Paradise is like.  

Working backward on the trail, the next stop is Leon, a major milestone for us pilgrims,  and what a wonderful night of reunion we had here on Monday, Sept. 22.  We met Marlin, who had become a good friend 10 days ago, but since then had always been a full day ahead of us.   (Marlin - from Houston - is one of the few we met that we are confident will remain a good - though longdistance - friend, so it was wonderful to share a meal with him again.)  

And then - the TWINS - 19 year old sisters from Netherlands.  We spent the evening with them in Calzdilla de la Cueza on Sept. 17, buying their dinner for them.  They were very thankful, and we were all delighted to have a 5 minute reunion here in Leon.  (We made tentative plans to meet up again in Santiago, but that never happened, so by now the girls have gone on to their lives as Au Pairs, one in England the other in Australia - Are twins allowed to move that far apart?)

It's nearly 2:00 now, and the train is rolling again, this time toward Sahagun.  Ahh, Sahagun, the home home of my least favorite municipal Albergue.  It was a beautiful building, and we thought we had hit pay dirt when we signed in here before noon.  But by evening the pay dirt had become a Camino nightmare.  None of the walls go to the ceiling, so the noise of the late cookers in the kitchen mingles with the thunder of the early snorers in the boudoir, which then joins with various mysterious sounds from the water closet. They all are magnified over and over again, making a joyous chorus, sung to the all-too-familiar Camino tune of "Nobody sleeps tonight." 

The good event of the Sahagun stay was that we picked up our certificates stating that we had reached the geographical Center of the Camino.  And the other good event of Sahagun was ... It preceded the next day. 17 km to El Burger de Ranero where Lorraine and I both treated ourselves to to our one and only massage!  After four weeks of steady walking, and many many aches and pains, this was our time.  Thanks to the beautiful young masseuse from the Netherlands who had decided to interrupt her Camino for a few days and give massages on a donation basis.

It's 2:30 now, and we are moving quickly across the mesetas.  

The train takes a more southerly direction here for a while, leaving me to remember towns and villages like Formista, Carrion de Los Condes, Hontanas and Hornillos del Camino.  Countless Other Unnamed Towns with their tiny population, but big Cathedrals (under major reconstruction.)  Towns with no economy other than that provided by thousands of pilgrims parading through. 

As I look out over the flat, flat lands, broken only be the occasional undulation (I love that word), it's hard to remember the agonizing heat that ruled everything during those long days of walking.  No one was "moving quickly across the meseta" then.  Find a pace where you could survive, keep that pace, and hope that just before your energy was totally gone, an albergue would appear.  Somehow, one always did!   

In the mesetas, the guide books use language like "boring" to describe this 10 to 14 days of walking.  I'm of the opinion that the guide books should take that kind of leading language out of their vocabulary.  Tell me that is flat - for that's a fact.  Tell me there is no bar/cafe for 17 km, so I had better fill up my water bottles and carry some food - for that's a fact.  But "boring" is not a fact, it is a state of mind, and frankly we found the long walks (that's a fact) to be rather interesting.  I find it unfortunate that several times during the Camino we heard people make plans to skip a particular portion of the Camino because the guide book said it was "boring" or (as was the case in more hilly areas) "steep and strenuous"

3:40 pm and the train is in Burgos - running behind schedule by at least 1/2 hour.  That sounds familiar - the day we walked into Burgos (two months ago today - Sept. 10) we were late.  25 km, hot day filled with ups and downs, lack of shade, around the perimeter of the airport, through hot streets and then the Albergue was full.  

We found a private hotel in the Cathedral area, so it was all good, but we never found our friends Carmine and Xavier.  We were supposed to say goodbye to them that night as they were headed home, but it was not to be.  The good news is that as I write this exactly two months later, we are heading to visit them in their home on the Mediterranean Coast!

A few more towns, and finally at Pamplona the train leaves the Camino for good, heading south east to Barcelona. 

Nine hours from Santiago to Pamplona.  In nine short hours we have retraiced most of a 48 day walk. 

And just like that, it is done.  An amazing piece of our life story is now history ... but if you listen carefully you can hear it calling my name.  "Thurland ... Thurland!   Thurland ... Don't forget to come back".