Day 27 on the Camino Way

Update on Alex

Sally and I set out early this morning, before light. It was quiet and a little eery, but interesting. About two and a half hours, and six miles in, we stopped for our first coffee and some breakfast. And Alex, the 40-something German woman showed up. She sat down beside us, hooked her Yankees hat on a chair and said, ”I’ve been thinking of our talk yesterday.”

”Me too,” I said.

“I’ve decided that my husband and I have to go this year to Auschwitz and Dachau. Every German should do this.”

“Actually, I think everyone, German or otherwise, should go to one of these.”

We’re hoping to do just that next year.

Tough Day Today

That’s me bent over trying to stretch out my side and catch my breath going up today’s climb.

This is Sally doing the exact same thing and no these are not staged. It was that tough. We were that spent.

Hello Silence My Old Friend

For the first 13 miles on today’s hike/walk we were mostly quiet. That’s not usual for us. We both like to talk and we both have a lot to say. But not today. Today we were not talking. And the reason we were quiet is because we both knew what was coming. We heard from others and read in our guide book that today was going to be one of our toughest days. And it did not disappoint.

As I wrote earlier we started out at 6:30. We wanted to get a jump on the day. Sally and I are almost always among the first on the trail. We walk alone and in the dark for a while and then at first opportunity we stop for coffee. Today we stopped at around mile six, which means we were a third of the way into our day. Not bad.

Being Passed

We are always first on the trail and among the last to reach the end goal—the hotel for the night. We move steady but slowly, and that’s mostly because of me. We stop often for rest and for fuel. People pass us. By the end of the day we feel as if we are walking alone and well back from everyone else. It’s okay, we accept this, but it’s still not easy for either of us.

When we reached the place where it was going to get tough we thought it was just us and the four horses with the one rider that we saw on the trail, plus the horse manure and the fricking flies. We thought this because no one was in front of us and no one was behind us. As far as we could tell, it was us, the horses, the one guy riding the one horse, the horse manure, and the fricking flies, and only the flies were having a good time.

It took us thirty-five minutes to go one mile. At mile sixteen we stopped and had a few blocks of chocolate bar—something we have learned from the experienced hikers—and we drank water. We had found a place to sit on a slightly flat spot.

And We Were Not Alone

As we sat there we heard a couple coming up the incline. ”Hey,” I said to Sal, ”we’re not last after all.”They walked past. ”Buen Camino.” Then another pair come in sight and behind them a single walker. We started to get our act together—pack on, poles set, mind right!. Then Alex showed up and Alex is a seriously strong German, and Alex was behind us! What!

She waves as she walks by and we fall in behind her. What a difference this made. We were not alone and we recognized many of these folks from being on the road with them for so long. A couple from Seattle appeared behind us. Suddenly the hill, the mountain, the horse manure and the fricking flies seemed less formidable. All because, we weren’t alone. Funny that!

Buen Camino!