A minor celebration this afternoon. We think the daily blister lance and juice squeeze ritual may have finally come to an end. Most friction points seem to have callused up nicely. We’ll keep the needle and bactraban just in case but today went well. Equally our muscles and bones seem to be settling into the daily walking routine. It’s less, “what, again?”, from our bodies and more, “oh ok”,… but perhaps not ‘yipee!’, just yet.
At 6:07am we were on the road, our empty alburgue dorm giving us the freedom to pack openly and noisily with all the lights on (it turns out this room was earmarked for cleaning and wasn’t supposed to be used. Oh well, when the instructions are ‘upstairs’…)
We grabbed a croissant and coffees at a little store up the road also stocked with fresh bread, meat, cheese, olives, anchovies….all the vitals required for a great walk. The son in the pink hoodie is the boss, baking bread and the dad says ‘coffee?’, holding up two sized paper cups, but he has to keep asking the son instructions to drive the coffee machine.
Its cool and cloudy as we climb gently out of the town and into the vineyards. It’s still dark when we reach the free wine tap but it’s not been filled for the day. There’s enough for a taste and we’re fine with that at 7 something in the morning.
The sun rises orange over the mountains and we find ourselves in a fresh new microcosm of dense 3 to 6m small leafed trees and shrubs; olive coloured and grey greens, interspersed with pines. The track is wide and well-kept fine gravel winding and undulating, always gently up. We’re passed by two others but otherwise there’s no one and we enjoy the rhythmic crunch of gravel and awakening birdsong.
The bush forms an abrupt wooded wall along the edge of the uniform green wheat fields as the path winds in and out of the forest – it looks like the edge of Fanghorn. In a small village there’s a bar and we stop for a coffee. The owner, a Dutchman, found his love here on his own camino some years back and stayed.
The breeze and clouds have kept it cool and we’re still in woollen layers. There’s rain in the mountains near by but it looks like mist and drizzle rather than anything threatening.
In Villamayor de Monjardin I decide I’d like to climb up the hill above the town to see some castle ruins, Di not so much. Our Dutch friend estimated 20min ‘depending on how you walk’. I estimate 20 up, 5 checking it out, 20 down. In 45min Di will have walked 3km and at 6kph I’ll catch that up in 30 min, so 1:15min all up. The astute reader will see my mistake but at that moment I didn’t, and so we aimed to reconnect at about 10am (we split at quarter to 9).
I make good time but I’m in cloud by the time I get up there. I can just make out a long line of pilgrims making their way up the hill from Azqueta. Despite the cloud it was worth a quick look and a bit of a heart pump and I’m up and back down in under 40min, and smashing along the path again after Di. It was a bit after 10am, and not seeing Di on a long straight ahead, that I recognized the error of my ways – Di was a moving target so….45min plus 3km ahead at 2kph difference in speed is 2:15min – 11am. Shit!
At 10:30am, Di is kick-backed happily snacking on a cheese and ham omelet and coffee at the drinks wagon 7km out of Los Arcos, and I pull up sweating (and relieved!). Di’s all good. I hook into some GF pita bread and Mortadella from the supermarket. It was awesome.
We’ve both had time to reflect during our brief time apart and we start a discussion about independence and dependence, or perhaps Maverick versus team player. I’m more the former, Di more the latter. Di is more inclined to consider my needs above her own and, well…. I’m more inclined to consider mine. Sounds bad on paper but I frame it that I assume everything’s OK, ( I’m good at reframing things). As we can’t have both of us looking after me, and because not looking after your own needs sucks, we agree that I need to be less solo man (light on the bubbles so you knock it down fast) and Di a little more (solo woman perhaps) and visa versa re looking after each other (me more, Di less).
Walking side by side has that effect, plenty of time to unpack stuff as you walk along – to speak and to listen. Even I feel like speaking in the course of six hours! But there’s also something of what Henri Newen says in this walking; the time to create a space inside yourself where someone else can exist, a quiet space free of judgement and analysis that allows someone else’s thoughts to unfold…maybe some reflection, maybe some clarification or gentle questions (not que-gestions), but not more. A privilege to give and a gift to receive.
We arrive in Los Arcos about noon, feeling pretty good (its 19 degrees so we didn’t cook). A small yard just in town has a veritable menagerie of chickens, goats and geese. Two goats tussle horns, another two are happily eating a cardboard box while a happy-fat rooster struggles to cuck-a-doodle-do while balancing on barbed wire. Could’ve watched for hours. After checking in, sock and body washing and chilling out for awhile, we take a walk through the town, a wine in the small town square and end up dining at a little restaurant, “Mavi’, serving a 3 course local cuisine with a litre of wine for 16 euro. Very nice.
Tomorrow Vianda for a couple of nights and a down day.