The Spiritual Path

Day 14:  Pontevdra to A Armenteira, North Spain

We had decided as part of our Camino to take a slightly extended route into Santiago, based on friends suggestions and our readings.  It is called the “Variant Spiritual” which will take us up another mountain, past a monastery, and though the path of “stone and rock” which is supposed to be one of the most beautiful paths along this Camino.

This will also be the water route into Padrón, which is where, according to history and legend,  St. James actually did visit and where his remains were transported back to by a magical boat.  We will follow this same path by boat the following day and meet up with the main path for pilgrims again.

We also hope that his slight detour will provide us more space to think again since the main path has felt so crowded as the newer pilgrims have joined us and other Caminos, like the coastal route, have converged.

After a few kilometers we take a left as the main pack continues straight and immediately it feels different.   We feel alone again, on our own path, with a few more chance and intimate gatherings with others.  We meet a gregarious dutch man who looks like he is ready to run up the mountain.  He tells us he has taken this path before and it is beautiful.

As we enter the beach town of Combarro, a local woman stops us for a chat.   She is so happy to talk to us, calls us such a cute couple walking together, and we soon find out, as she gently wipes away tears, that her own husband has recently passed away.  We stay a bit longer to be with her, we hear about her family, and then it is time for us all to say our goodbyes.

We are rewarded with our path less traveled to find a wide open beach that seems to go for half a mile since the tide is out.  We walk on the sand and seaweed as the smell reminds me of oysters and mussels – which is what they farm here.

Two nights ago, another Canadian stated that each Camino may reveal itself and there is a point in which it becomes your own.  For her, on the Camino Frances it was while walking alone in the early dark hours remembering her mother (who passed away the same year as mine) that the Camino became her own.  On this one, she purposely left her scallop shell from that trip behind, since she knew this Camino Portugués would be for another reason.

For Siri and I, our Camino reveals itself at different times and it seems to change.  Right now it is focused the blisters and beat up feet that has caused us to pause a bit more.  We both walked and hiked a lot before, but this continual everyday hike on rough trails and rocks is taking its toll.  On this, our twelfth day on the Camino, we are feeling it.  We have applied a few bandages to the raw blisters each morning, and now change into dry socks a few times each day, and are rethinking what our plans will be after we reach Santiago.

We had originally planned to take a few days off and then keep hiking to the coast for another four days.   Our feet and the weather forecast, which is predicting  a week of stormy weather, is causing us to reconsider.  I am intrigued how one gets clarity over time.  This second part seemed like a natural part of our Camino, but right now, it seems like an add on that isn’t as important.  We start to plan what else we may do with this time.

But, we still have a hill to climb and so after a hearty lunch and a change of socks, we begin.  The Dutchman passes as he tells us he had a full lunch and some beer and is ready to go.  And off he goes up the steep path.

The word switchback doesn’t seem to be translated well here since paths and roads just seem to go straight up.  At times we feel like we are almost climbing on our hands.  We pass a woman in a bright orange dress from the Netherlands who is walking slow but informs us her cousin is up ahead.  We take some refuge together in the shade of the few trees and at one point in what looks like a bus shelter, but is actually built for this purpose.  We take this break to reapply our sunscreen, but we can’t find it.  She offers us her extra bottle and we are thankful.  ‘The Camino will provide’ we say to ourselves as we say goodbye.

The steep parts gradually move into more familiar pacific northwest like forest trails and we keep moving.  As we meet less people, it actually allows for more conversation and sharing of stories.

Finally, after following a terrible rocky path down (where we had to help an elderly gentleman navigate some treacherous boulders) we arrive at the Monastery.

And the bar.

We find an umbrella for shade, we nod to the Dutchman who has already settled into his beers, and we take off our shoes and relax.

We all clap as others finally make it in. It feels we are at the finish line supporting our fellow teammates as they complete their race.

The woman in the peach dress finally arrives and we clap.  She sits next to the Dutchman and I finally realize these are the cousins.  All these different groups sit down for a well-deserved lunch.  Siri realizes she is hungrier than expected and I enjoy the local mussels.

The Dutch cousins finally call us over for a beer to celebrate, and this time, we know better, and say yes.

An hour later, we have learned, among many other things, that he has written a book about his experience on the Camino and is now writing another.   He sold his business to take care of his health and his heart.  Siri and I are invited to visit them in the Netherlands after a few more rounds of celebrations.

Because we stayed so long, we will not make it to the Pilgrim mass and blessing.   We feel we have been blessed in other ways, so we let this one expectation go.

As I write this, I can see the lights of the seaside town far below where we will walk to tomorrow and catch our boat the next day.  It reminds Siri and me of a similar view recently in Hawaii, looking down into Kona and the lights of the city, while we celebrated our 30th anniversary last summer.  That was a special moment and so is this one.

The connections seem to be everywhere and we take them in as we work to create our own Camino together.