One of the perks of jet lag is waking up early. So when festival revelers woke me up singing drinking songs in the street at 5:00, I was ready to go. After much internal debate about where to start and how far to go, I did my online morning prayer and came up with the following: walk through Leon to the Parador, where I left the Camino in June, and then call a taxi out if town, skipping the suburbs and sparing my feet on day 1. It always feels good to have a plan.
So I left Hotel Q after desayuno in the dark at 8:00, and walked the Camino route through the medieval city. From all directions there was the tap tap of hiking poles. My fellow pilgrims were also headed out. I have been so consumed with travel arrangements and whittling down the contents of my pack, that had forgotten the impact of common purpose and fellowship between Peregrinos. “Buen Camino!” We said in the dark as we converged on the Way. That was my first tearing up episode. Then, a few minutes later as I paused in the Plaza San Isidore searching for which way to go, a guy standing outside the church pointed the way the Camino exited the irregularly shaped plaza. That was the second tearing up, followed by approaching the Parador, where I had decided to go home after my ankle injury. I asked a fellow pilgrim to take my picture by the statue, then went inside to have them call a taxi. All was the same as June. The taxi came and I started I Virgen del Camino, where the path leaves the suburbs. Suddenly I was back on the Way, and inexpressibly happy. The weather was clear, about 65, beautiful walking weather. A high point of the
day was talking to an old shepherd who had three German Shepherds herding gigantic cattle, in my rudimentary Espanol.