Portuguese Camino Day10: The New Pilgrims Begin

DAY 10 ORBENLLE – (South of) REDONDELA 13.44 MILES, 31030 STEPS.

New Pilgrims, a New Way

Its official, we’re less than 100k from Santiago!

Today a different version of the Camino emerges as we passed the 100k / 62mi point to Santiago. 100k is the point when you can be granted a Compostella if your credentials have two stamps/day for these new pilgrims. But for us who have stamps for the last 99 miles, The Way feels different as new pilgrims with their new backpacks, smelling all fresh and looking untanned join The Way. It’s a different demographic, mostly Spanish: groups of high school kids, brimming with energy; Dads with their families, laughing, talking on their phones; or young couples, their faces flushed with excitement. Up to this point its been say 40% Germans, and the rest a mix of other Europeans, now seasoned walkers with lines etched by the journey. These ‘spring in their steps’ new pilgrims are not weary like us, their enthusiasm is almost infectious as they pass us, and they always pass us.

Suzanne walks through a Eucalyptus Forest. We know that because the Eucalyptus Tree allows much light to enter its shade.

The Way alternated between cool forest walks and hot, noisy industrial road walks today: loud trucks pounding the pavement to break up the still hot air. We left before 8am, and stopped after 10 for a Spanish Tortilla, and café, a favorite from my 2017 Camino. I’m glad Suzanne is tasting the real thing—I’ve been trying to replicate it for years; I’ve been using too much potatoes.

Suzanne walks past a 9c mile marker for the Roman Road we are walking today.

The Galician Way 

Outside the cities there are so many PUDs (Pointless Up and Down) that grind down our will and in the cities, PRCs, (Pointless Road Crossings) that are frustrating, sending us across the road and then 200ft later, back to the side we

The yummy calamari sandwich!

just crossed from only to climb a steep PUD, and then it to rejoin the same road we were walking on. It is not a straight path, and I wonder about the masochist who designed this section.  Do they feel joy for a job well done?

At lunch I have my first calamari sandwich, which is good, but I much prefer to eat the fried squid first and then the fresh, crusty bread later. I am so happy to be back in Spain where the food choice expands from Portugal’s limited selections.

Spaniards are cheering us on today as we walk today, and it feels good to be seen.

A Hilly Way

The Way is really getting hilly now and for most of the afternoon we have been going up up up so long, we don’t even notice it anymore.  Then we reach the top and Santiago dumps out all of today’s climb all at once, and now it’s a long winding decent, a 15° percent downward grade that goes for an unrelenting 30 minutes. Our toes go smush. smush, smush against the tips of our shoes. I swear I can feel crushed toe juice oozing out.

A House Wine Pairing of Potato Chips

The vino tinto de la casa pairs well with potato chips. Really!

We step off the downward plunge of a road to enter Albergue O Corsico, legs burning and toes tender.  The albergue is a series of buildings, and between them, I notice an old large oak door slightly ajar. Inside it’s cool and musty. An old wooden wine press stands in the center of the cave, and large wine barrels on their sides against the back wall. Our first house wine, I think, and I’m suddenly hopeful. While I’m doing laundry upstairs, Suzanne procures two, I can’t call them wine glasses, more like goblets of vino tinto de la casa, red wine of the house.  She is talking up the husband of the owner, in Spanish. Suzanne is amazing. Here we have walked 13+ hilly miles, and she still has the energy to connect cross-culturally, no doubt pumping him for information about the coming days.  The earthy wine is young, slightly tart and pairs well with potato chips.

Suzanne and the owner compare notes about what The Way has for us in the coming days.

Another Family Meal

Later we discover The Kids, as we call as we call Veronica and Helena, are staying in the common room of bunk beds one floor below us. They sit down with us and a new set of chilled goblets show up, plus a pitcher of wine. An hour later, the French show up, and then an odd sort of a young man on an accidental Camino, carrying a skateboard and a huge backpack. With a shock of unruly hair and an infectious energy, he’s a stark contrast to us weary other pilgrims. Its another family meal, I can’t wait to hear his story…

Showing off our grandkids to Veronica and Helena

All day I continued to ruminate on last night’s epiphany about the Danish pastor who feels something I have not felt in a long time. She felt like a pastor. Maybe that comes with serving a church, which while ordained, I do not. I wonder, can one really be a pastor if one isn’t serving a church? Dinner tonight is an impromptu family meal with The Kids, and the two older French women we have also shared the hostels with these past few days. At one point one of the French say, “we knew you were a pastor since the first time we met in Caminha.” Hmmm, I guess I needed to hear that – if and when I don’t feel like one on the inside, maybe I still am?

Along the way it feels magical to walk along the creek

Letting Go

Veronica, the Austrian ‘Kid’, just finished a nursing degree and will serve as a nurse in the autumn. We’ve stayed in the same hostels the last three nights, and see each other during the day, but have not walked together.  Somehow, we start to talk about letting go of people’s stories, and Suzanne and I co-tell our practice of a long hike after a debriefing program and throwing stones, named for the people we worked with that week, releasing them and their stories back to God. We talk more about this and I sense that during her nursing internships she needed to find a way to let go of her patients and their stories.

One of the few wooden Hórreos we see, and it is in the process of returning to the earth.

Conversation drifts to Imposture Syndrome, and her worries that while she has been trained to be a nurse, she isn’t one. It’s odd to be talking about this now, with the realization I have not felt like a pastor for some time. And yet I self-identify as one. Its not that I feel like an imposture—I don’t—I’m just near the end of my career, and for our Austrian friend, her beginning.

A official certificate granted by the Catholic Church certifying completion of your Camino.

Day 10 feet on the Camino