Today’s walk led out of Villafranca into the mountains. Last night I heard the lovely sound of the rushing river below my window, and I walked along that river all day to my current location at the rather funky Municipal Albergue in Vega de Valcare.
It was overcast and foggy all day. The Camino paralleled the highway, and the river, and above us the super-highway soared on cement pylons and then dove into tunnels. Meanwhile, the pilgrims walked and the river burbled, as we have for centuries. The trout must have been swimming, too.
There were many signs along the steam that said something like “don’t do something with fish or death.” It took me a long time to figure out it meant, “catch and release fishing only.”
There were also signs next to fountains that said, “sanitation of water is not guaranteed.”
It was an easy walk today, and I found myself wondering what it had been like before the Camino was behind crash barriers next to the highway, and before the superhighway flew over both the Camino and the old highway.
The stream was there , and the Camino, and pilgrims. And the truchas, the trout.
Your last lines seem to be channeling your inner Hemingway in a fine and lovely way.
I wish your photos would enlarge with a click. As it is we’re only getting the tiny embedded version and they’re just hints of what might be.
As usual, I get weepy when I read your blog. The trout stream this time, I guess. And Spain, and voyages, and movement across the earth’s surface that feels slow until you find yourself at the place you were heading for…