I packed up everything in my cozy attic room in Oasis Trails and went downstairs to partake of the bag breakfast (it’s a thing here in albergues because people leave early in the morning). It had an orange, a fresh little baguette, muffin, a granola type bar. Not much I really wanted to eat. The best thing was Nescafé instant coffee, which is surprisingly good sometimes. Especially when there’s no alternative.
There were a couple of others in the small low-ceilinged downstairs room. Carol, a Brit who runs Camino Confidence, a Camino guide service for women,was getting ready too. Turns out that knows Nancy Reynolds. One of her clients had an injury so she was going to walk slowly to the bus stop with her a kilometer or so away. Soon they took off.
The guy I’d talked to yesterday ducked through the room since he’s very tall. “Hey San Francisco!“ I waved, “Buen Camino,” and let him get ahead of me.
The walk started out with a lot of ups and downs, and paralleled the motorway. Up in the distance I could see Carol walking slowly with her client then peeling off the Camino to the village across the valley where the bus stopped.
A runner came up beside me and stopped. She was one of the Oasis Trails staff from last night. We chatted and I thanked her for the prayerful time after dinner. She said, “I saw you just now and thought I need to tell her that God loves her, and is with her always by the Way.” I thanked her and she ran off ahead. How cool to have the Camino as your local running route. I appreciated her comment, too. It was authentic and from the heart.
A couple passed me while I ate my orange by the side of the path, and stopped to chat. They were dentists from Fullerton. She had the identical pack that I carried on my other Caminos in my favorite raspberry color. Mine disintegrated in the closet, the straps just broke off. Osprey couldn’t fix it and I was so disappointed. They sent me a new one in black. Maybe more classic but I miss the raspberry. I wondered why hers, which was the same age, hadn’t fallen apart. That isn’t very interesting to anyone else I’m sure!
They walked on and I followed, eventually seeing them again at a food truck set up under a grove of trees.
That was a lovely spot. I’ve been sketching intermittently, and this was one of the places I took out my watercolor sketchbook and pen to play around. I’m new to sketching and I’m giving myself permission to just have fun with it. Later on I’ve been adding watercolor to the sketches. I like how it makes me be in the moment.
Staffing the food truck was a young woman I also recognized from Oasis Trails the night before. She recognized me too, and that was fun. There was a small Dutch evangelical ex-pat community connected to the Albergue, and they’re renovating a building in another village into a new albergue.
After the food truck, the path entered a mesmerizing, scenic phase. It was basically flat, too. Saturated green wheat, red, red poppies, a sprinkling of other wildflowers, and the Camino cut a yellow path through the glory.
Off to the right (North, I think) was a line of rugged peaks. The view kept changing as I walked, and new serrated ridges came into view. Are those the Picos de Europa? Not sure. I hope we can drive in that direction when Hale arrives and explore.
Those olive trees!
And the edges of Los Arcos came into view.
On the way into town there were plaques that explained more about the costs of arms in the houses along the way.
There were lots of these along the Camino route into town.
Then there was Iglesia de Santa Maria and that triangular square I remembered. Notice the fencing on the left. They were setting up for their running of the bulls event in June.
I walked into the square and saw several people I recognized, including the Fullerton dentist with the raspberry pack and her husband, and we all greeted each other. I went to check in at my Pension. They had all moved on when I returned, but the square was filling up with the next crop of pilgrims.
I did the usual shower, rest, and shuffle my belongings around before the main event for me in Los Arcos: visiting the Iglesia de Santa Maria that evening.
One Footestep at a Time 