Posts Tagged With: Returning to the Camino

Walking into Burgos, 2.5k plus 9k taxi ride and 8.2k

The next morning in Ages, the lobby of the Albergue was stuffed with luggage for Jacotrans and the other services to pick up. Somehow, I ended up being one of the last people to leave. My boots were the last ones on the rack.

Getting started at 8:30, late for pilgrims

Lila, the Danish woman and I started out walking together. It was a glorious morning with sun, blue sky, and the Camino took us past charming half-timbered houses.

Half-timbered house in Ages

There was a circle of stones off to the left of the road, and I wanted to see what they were. They reminded me of the stones at the top of Alto de Perdon that were a Civil War monument. At that moment I realized that both Lila and I were both used to walking at our own pace, and I am a habitual reader of signs, plaques, and lover of views. I stop a lot. I sensed Lila was ready to make better time. I was also in search of coffee because I left Ages without having breakfast. When we got to the next village I said I was stopping for coffee and she said she could wait longer. We said, “Buen Camino,” and she walked ahead.

Circle of stones
Entering Atepuerca

My itinerary was getting a bit squished. I wanted to be in Burgos around 5:00 to meet Hale at the bus station, and I had 23k to walk. I also didn’t want to be thrashed when he arrived. Having walked into cities before, I knew how tough the kilometers on pavement could be on your feet. I wanted to walk into Burgos along the river but I wanted to avoid the next 10k or so through the industrial outskirts.

So, I asked the bar in Atapuerca to call for a taxi. I calculated that if I skipped to Costanones, I could pick up the river path and have a scenic 10k walk. I realized that we’d called for a taxi in 2013 at the same cafe, which felt a little like Deja-vu.

The taxi driver arrived and we sped off down the two lane road, then got on the motorway and then took several turns off it into roundabouts. As the crow flies it’s not that far from Burgos so the roads were built for suburban traffic.

The Camino’s approach into Burgos is complicated. There’s a path that follows the road, and two other paths that hug the beautiful shallow river that runs through Burgos. I definitely wanted to try one of those, but the description in the guidebook looked confusing. You know it’s confusing when the guidebook says, “Stop! Focus!”

Fortunately, my dashing taxi driver knew where to go. He let me out where an industrial park met the river path. I was immediately in a greenway, but the signage was somewhat lacking. There were yellow arrows every once in awhile but not many.

But it didn’t seem to matter because the river was on my right, and the path was well-defined. I saw two pilgrim up ahead of me, so I tried to keep them in sight.

Finding the river route into Burgos

It did seem like my days of walking had sped by too fast. In some ways I was just getting in the groove, and wouldn’t it be fun to keep going? At the same time, I was looking forward to seeing Hale and showing him beautiful Burgos.

So I strolled along taking my time and enjoying the river route. Whenever I stopped to recalibrate my route, a jogger would cry out, “Camino!” Pointing me the right way.

After awhile the path became paved, and then became a wide sidewalk along the river. There were lots of residents of all ages out strolling with friends, or getting exercise, or pushing elderly people in wheelchairs and babies in strollers. Every once in awhile there was access to the dirt path closer to the river and I took advantage of it, to walk under the weeping willow trees.

Elegant sycamores

I paused for awhile on a park bench and tried to gather my thoughts before entering town.

I didn’t have any grand summations on the last 12 days. I did feel a sense of gratitude for the time to walk and finding that sense of timelessness again along the Camino that felt grounding to me. Seeing the churches and art gave me joy. I love the human scale of the villages, the narrow streets. I love meeting people from all over the world, drawn to walk in a common direction.

I also felt grateful to be healthy and strong enough to walk the Camino again. My broken wrist, surgery, and osteoporosis diagnosis two years ago had made me anxious about doing another Camino. Was it such a good idea to wear a full-sized pack? I don’t know, but maybe it’s helped my spinal bone density numbers. I haven’t had any back issues. The only side effect of walking has been heat rash on longer stretches. And yeah, no blisters!

As I sat there I gave thanks for not falling, and for no injuries, and not getting sick. As always, I felt a deep sense of safety on the Camino, and a sense of faith in humanity. Trust. With all that’s happening in the US, I needed that. It’s been healing.

Gate into old Burgos

I crossed the river and passed through the old gate into central Burgos. It reminded me of the gate in Canterbury, but much bigger and in better shape. Once through the gate, the Cathedral appears, massive and towering at the same time. It’s one of my most favorite cathedrals, a work of art, full of art.

It felt a bit like coming home. This was the third time I’ve been there, and I remembered how to get around the old part of the city. Now it was time to find Hotel Notre y Londres and rest before meeting Hale at the bus station.

Categories: Camino de Santiago, Pilgrimage | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Time to jump ahead to Najera

The human body is amazing. After a good night’s sleep my legs felt much better. The angry red welts up and down my legs from heat rash had subsided to a mild blotchiness, and I wasn’t sore.

Today was the day I jumped ahead a few stages, to Najera. Jacotrans had picked up my bag, and I walked with my lightened backpack to the Logroño bus station to catch the bus to Najera about 35k away.

Roses in Logroño

The bus station was in a super modern building that also housed the train station. It looked very similar to the Academy of Science building in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park, with grass growing on the roof.

It was easy to buy my ticket (1€! For bring a senior). It was clean and felt so safe it was boring. I noticed that I wasn’t in high alert mode like I would’ve been in an American bus station.

I wonder why there can’t be a similar bus station in downtown Oakland. There’s the new, fancy Transit station in San Francisco, but nothing like it anymore in the East Bay. There used to be the Greyhound station but now it’s abandoned and covered in graffiti. I wonder if there’s even Greyhound service anymore? Maybe I’m just out of touch, and not a Greyhound rider. I do know that we are such a car centric culture that riding an intercity bus is not as common for most Americans.

We boarded and off we went out to the highway, and swooping back off the main road about 15 minutes later into the small town of Najera.

I saw Najera with maybe more open eyes than in 2013. This time it looked tattered around the edges. Maybe COVID had not been kind to it. Lots of graffiti and closed stores. Or maybe it was still early in the season? It wasn’t overflowing with pilgrims like I remembered it. But that sparkling river still runs through it. That still felt kind of magical.

Najera

I hiked through the quiet, narrow streets to find my little hotel, La Ciudad de Najera. It was on a street that dead-ended into the red cliffs that backstop the old town.

Red cliffs of Najera
Hotel Ciudad de Nájera

The guy behind the desk was very helpful. He reminded me of someone I went to seminary with. Tomorrow I was going to make an even bigger jump ahead, to get in position to arrive in Burgos when Hale arrived on the 28th.

My Spanish worked well enough to have a discussion about calling a taxi for the morning. He made the call and I balked a bit at the price, but decided to go with it. I also had to call Jacotrans and arrange a longer than usual bag transport. That went ok too.

My logistics set up, I went out to visit the Monastery de Santa Maria Real that I really wanted to see again. That’s where the figure of the Virgen in the cave is, which was so amazing when I saw it the first time. At 2:00 I walked over and the door was shut even though it said they opened again at 2:00. But when I really studied the sign I saw that they were closed on Mondays. Oh no, it was Monday! Of course I’d lost track of the days.

Just then I saw an elderly woman putting cat food into dishes and pushing them underneath a big iron door next to the monastery. She called for cats to come partake, and they did, lining up behind the dishes of cat food. I asked if they were wild, and she shushed me in Spanish.

Cats being fed behind a big door

I wandered down the street, intersecting where the Camino exits Najera. Who did I see but Mark and Linda, whom I’d last seen in Estella! Amazing! They were on their way through Najera to stay at the next town. We caught up for a few minutes and then they shuffled along their way. I hoped to catch them in Burgos when Hale and I were there in a couple of days.

Mark and Linda walking through Najera

After a sandwich at the bar on the dusty square, I wandered back down by the river. Who should I see sitting at a cafe table but Dick and Sue from Phoenix. They invited me to join them and another couple from Pennsylvania for wine and tapas. I enjoyed hanging out with them and having someone to talk to. It felt funny at times to feel like the Camino sage, since I’d done it before and knew what was coming up ahead.

It felt too late to find dinner at that point, and no place looked appealing, so I went to a little grocery store and bought some cheese and rice crackers, and fruit. I had a simple meal in my little room overlooking the tile roofs, and it was just right. Took a shower and called Hale to check in, and packed everything so it was ready to go in the morning. I was scheduled to meet the Jacotrans driver outside at 7:15 since this was a special request, taking it about 70k up the Camino to Ages.

Tomorrow felt like a big day, taking the long taxi ride and walking 20k from Villafranca de la Oca to Ages.

Categories: Camino de Santiago, Return to Camino | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

My last day of walking the Camino: The Long Story

Setting out on my last day walking the Camino from Mansilla de las Mulas.

Setting out on my last day walking the Camino from Mansilla de las Mulas.

I walked the Camino Frances in three trips. Camino 1.0 was from St. Jean-Pied-de-Port to Burgos, in June, 2013. Camino 2.0 was from Leon to Santiago, in October 2013. That left the section in the middle from Burgos to Leon for my Camino 3.0, in April, 2015.

That’s the short story of why I was walking into Leon on April 19th, 2015.

After 10 days of walking from Burgos,  I was in Mansillas de las Mulas, only 18 kilometers away from Leon. Here’s the long story of what that day was like.

The night before I walked into Leon I was seriously thinking of taking a taxi because one of my ankles was hurting and when I talked with my husband on the phone, it seemed like the logical thing to do. The walk into Leon was known to be tedious, and lots of pilgrims bussed through it. When I began my second Camino, in October 2013, from Leon, I took a taxi out past the suburbs, and I didn’t regret it.

But when I got up the next morning to head out from Mansilla de los Mulas towards Leon, I felt I needed to walk at least part of the way. I decided I’d see how I felt as the day unfolded.

I had mixed feelings about finishing my Camino 3.0, and finishing the whole Camino in general.

Sign just outside Mansilla de las Mulas

Sign just outside Mansilla de las Mulas

The April trip was empowering. I totally enjoyed the walking, the solitude, and the conversations along the way. Every day I felt physically challenged and spiritually fulfilled. The Camino was as magical as it had been before. Each of my three trips had its own flavor, its own season (summer, fall, and now spring) and each trip took me deeper into the spirituality of walking solo. Camino 3.0, across the Meseta, had been more contemplative than the other two trips, more like a retreat.

There was something very attractive about the sureness of following the yellow arrows on the Camino.  But now the adventure was about to end, and I found myself feeling of sad and wrestling with the feelings of “what’s next?”  I didn’t want Camino 3.0 to end.

When I was a kid I had the habit of saying, “Oh, it doesn’t matter.” My Mom used to respond with, “No, everything matters,” which would make me angry. I realize now that I used to say “It doesn’t matter,”  when I couldn’t express my feelings very well, and that my Mom said “No, everything matters,” to help me.  But she didn’t quite know how to get me to open up and share what was going on inside.  As an adult, and a Mom myself, I realized how frustrating it must have been for her to try and help me process my feelings.

I still struggle with that feeling of emotional ambiguity as an adult, and I was in one of those frustrating “Oh it doesn’t matter” kind of moods as I left Mansilla de las Mulas, and I spent a lot of the day debating whether I should call a taxi or not.

Even on the last day of walking, the Camino had something to teach me.

In the morning, I prayed for strong ankles, and to be open to what the Spirit wanted me to learn. I ate a late breakfast at my beautiful little hotel in Mansilla de las Mulas with the group of Irish women walking together I’d met the night before.

Javier saying

Javier saying “Buen Camino!”

Javier, the owner of the hotel, said “Buen Camino,” and waved me onto the Camino.   He was one of the many gems of hospitality I’d met along the Way.

The 18 kilometers to Leon were not scenic, or beautifully empty, like the Meseta. But there were memorable moments.

Hill fort where the ancient Asturians lost their battle against the Romans.

Hill fort where the ancient Asturians lost their last battle with the Romans.

There was the hill fort at kilometer 3 where the ancient Asturians lost their struggle with the Romans. Right in front of it was a gas station.  I love the juxtapositions of eras along the Camino!  There was a long, medieval bridge at kilometer 6 that was still used by cars. A modern pedestrian bridge had been built alongside it for the pilgrim traffic.

The 20 span Puente Ingente over rio Moro

The 20 span Puente Ingente over rio Moro

I ducked into a village church in Villamorros in the middle of a Mass, and was happy to see a young girl assisting the priest at the altar.  At about kilometer 9, my left ankle began to hurt again. It was midday, and it was hot for April. The Camino was shunted under highway overpasses, and ran next to junkyards.

The Camino meets billboards for the Macy's of Spain

The Camino meets billboards for the Macy’s of Spain

Junkyard Dog outside of Leon

Junkyard Dog outside of Leon

That was the low point.  For the first time since I’d left home, I wondered about how safe it was to be walking alone. Why was I doing this again?

The guidebook said there was an albergue and café just up ahead in Arcahueja. Maybe that’s where I would call my taxi.  When I got to the cafe, I found the five nice Irish women I’d met in Mansilla hanging out. They looked pretty out of sorts, too. We said, “hello” and complained a little about the heat.

Cafe/Bar La Torre in Arcahueja

Cafe/Bar La Torre in Arcahueja

I asked the bartender how far it was to Leon. He said it was only 11K, and “there’s a beautiful view of the city just up ahead.” (I’m sure he tells everyone that!) I asked if a bus stopped in the village or if they had a taxi. “No” he said. Hmmm.

I ordered a slice of tortilla, two deviled eggs, and a café con leche. What should I do? I felt bone tired and was so tempted to call a taxi. My food arrived, and I realized I was ravenous.

Once the protein in the eggs and the tortilla  kicked in, it became clear to me that I really needed to walk the entire way into Leon, and make Camino 3.0 a Cathedral to Cathedral affair.  As my Mom would have said, “it mattered.”

Once I finally got clarity, I felt the need for some encouragement to make it into Leon.

I had an idea. I turned on my phone and checked into the American Pilgrims on the Camino Facebook page. It was 4 a.m. in California, and 7:00 a.m. on the East Coast. Someone must be up and reading the page. I posted that I was 11 K out of Leon and was tempted to take a taxi, and needed some support. I posted it on this blog, too.

Immediately, waves of energy started rolling into that little café in Arcahueja through my iPhone! “You can do it! Don’t quit! Feel the burn!” Over a hundred people responded, cheered me on, and sent prayers via the APOC Facebook page. My brother-in-law in Washington, D.C. saw the post on the blog and gave me a big PUSH.

The Camino taught me—again—that sharing my feelings and asking for support is ok. Feeling vulnerable is ok. It’s usually in those moments when God reaches through our stoic armor and touches us.  My unspoken prayers during my morning’s walk were answered.

I said “Buen Camino” to the Irish crew and headed back out on the Camino, now excited to continue. The guy behind the bar had exaggerated just a little though; it was a long time before I saw the view of Leon.

The last hill before I could see the city of Leon

The last hill before I could see the city of Leon

I passed big box stores, and auto dealerships, and medieval churches with storks nesting on top of them.

The funny thing was, my ankle stopped hurting completely. It was amazing.  I picked up the pace.  There seemed to be very few other pilgrims walking that afternoon.

The Camino crossed the Autovia (freeway) on a dedicated pedestrian bridge, and the amount of concrete and apartment buildings reminded me of my long walk into Santiago in the rain, in October of 2013. But weather was good, and I was very thankful.

Out in the distance I could see the Cathedral in Leon, with the snowy mountains behind it. How I wished I could keep walking on to Astorga and beyond. It was a new experience to know what was up ahead on the Camino. That’s when I knew that I had almost finished the whole Camino Frances.

Cathedral at last, but still a long ways off.

The Cathedral in view at last, but still a long ways off.

Walking from the bar in Arcahueja to the Cathedral took about two hours of brisk walking. I felt great, aligned in my purpose. The feelings of sadness about finishing were still there, but I didn’t blow them off by calling a taxi. I walked and felt sadness and joy, and was determined to finish strong.

Once past the newer parts of Leon, passing apartment blocks and crossing roundabouts, The Camino bridged a small stream and led me through the ancient city walls.

It continued into a tangle of medieval streets and spit me out on the grand avenue in front of the building designed by Gaudi. Suddenly, I knew where I was. The Cathedral was just up ahead. And then I was standing in front of it, looking up at its fantastic exterior.

Approaching the Cathedral

Approaching the Cathedral

It was nearly 4:00 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon, and the doors were closed for Siesta.

When the adrenalin subsided, the sad feelings welled up again. No one was there to celebrate my arrival, and I had a wave of homesickness. But Mary was there, up on her pedestal outside, by the locked doors, holding baby Jesus in her arms, and she was smiling.

Mary holding Christ

Mary holding Christ

Thank you for being there, Mary.

Mary greeted me, and sent me off to my hotel to check in and relax. I was grateful for the lessons I’d learned that day. I wasn’t really alone. The Spirit was with me, and I felt blessed by the wave of energy and love from my fellow Pilgrims back in the States that had swept me on, to finish Camino 3.0, and the entire Camino.  Amen.

Categories: April 2015, Camino de Santiago, Leon, Pilgrimage | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Carrion for the Second Time

I walked through Carrion filled with wonder. There was so much more of it than I’d seen in 2013. Plazas and stores, and finally, a sparkling river. 

     

I circled back to the 12th C church of Santa Maria. It was open. That was where we’d had the classical guitar concert, Mass and pilgrim blessing in 2013. In April, things were quieter. Fewer pilgrims, no Mass that night.

  

  

 This crucifix was German, from 1350. It has the same Y shape as a famous one in Puente la Reina. How did it get to Carrion? Did a German pilgrim carry it here?

A beautiful Madonna and child from the 13C.

St. James, as a pilgrim. I said a prayer for the people of St. james/Santiago, Oakland, back home.

Spending time in Santa Maria made up for all the closed churches along the Way. I was so thankful to return to Carrion and to be a Peregrina again. I gave thanks for good health and prayed for all the injured pilgrims struggling to continue. Carrion was the place where all the days of walking 20k+ caught up with people. It had probably always been that way.

Later that day I met Tammi for a walk around town. The light was beautiful on the buildings, and people were out enjoying the evening, and greated is with “Buen Camino!”

 

  

  

We talked about our prior Caminos, and how there’s always more to learn.Then we found ourselves behind a church that overlooked the river. It was so quiet we could here the water burbling far below. “The 23rd Psalm,” was all Tammi said. Indeed. 

My experience of visiting Carrion again showed me how much bigger God is than the little boxes we create for God in our minds. It was filled with Camino moments. The Holy Spirit, Espiritu Santu, flowed through that day, like the river.

 

Categories: April 2015, Santiago de Compostela | Tags: , , | 2 Comments

Burgos to Hornillos

Yesterday I walked 20k, from Burgos to Hornillos. I considered taking a taxi out to the outskirts of Burgos like I did when I left Leon in October, but the purist in me won out. After settling up my hotel bill, I crossed the plaza to touch the Cathedral and say a prayer, and then stepped onto the Camino.

The way out of Burgos took awhile, through city streets, past the University, and through a gate and a alley of trees that looked familiar.  I think it was one of the locations used in The Way.  When Martin Sheen leaves Burgos, the Dad of the young thief makes him carry Martin Sheen’s pack down a long alley of trees until they get to a gate at the edge of town. This looked like the place.

Then the Camino passed the penitentiary, and what’s known at home as the “corporation yard,” alongside the highway, the railway, and the autopista. As I was trying to find my way through several unmarked intersections, I ran into my first pilgrim. Gabby had just taken a 25 hour bus ride from Germany. We walked together the rest of the day.

By kilometer 10 we reached the village of Tarjadas and had lunch at the neighborhood bar aka pub. The energetic woman behind the bar was cook and bartender, and the place was filled with locals. My Ensalada Mixta was freshly made, and they had interesting tapas made with quail eggs.

After taking off my boots and letting my feet breath, I was relieved to find that there were no hot spots.  (I’ve become very protective of my feet.) Onward! Another 10k took us out into the countryside and up onto the Meseta. Looking back, towards the East, we saw a mountain range fringed with snow.

 

Everything was green and bursting with new life. Gabby shared with me the names of the birds in German.

Finally, we made it to Hornillos, and checked into Albergue Alzar. I like all sorts of accommodations on the Camino, but I have a fondness for the private Albergues. They’re usually run by a family or couple, and offer a communal meal.

After a restorative shower, the six pilgrims in residence gathered for dinner. Our hosts served paella, salad, wine, and dessert. There were two women from Valencia, a couple from Belgium who started their Camino at home and continue to walk several weeks a year, Gabby, and me.

One of the many things that I love about the Camino is this: it brings people together from many countries to share a communal experience. And last night the owners of the albergue were very involved in the dinner conversation, and it was fun to wade in in Spanish. Between us there were four languages spoken, but we had a lovely dinner party talking about our travels and sharing photos we’d taken as we walked.

I’m finding myself more interested this time in Spanish culture, and what it’s like to live along the Camino.

With jet lag and 20k under my belt, curling up in my sleeping bag on the lower bunk was wonderful. And my new white noise app and headphones, made even the more challenging aspects of communal sleeping easier this time.

Categories: April 2015, Santiago de Compostela | Tags: , , , , , | 2 Comments

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