The last five days I have been climbing up, and down, mountains. I guess I should have expected it but, man alive, it is tough. The actual going up isn't so tough, it is that the trail is usually so full of rocks and stones and after about 20 miles per day of this, my feet are really hurting. As it seems, in every post, I do nothing but complain about how hard it is, I must also add that it is really beautiful. The mountains are covered in a purple flowering shrubby plant that is very pretty. The first day of the mountains was so hard on my feet. The second day, the ascent was tough but the remainder of the trail was soft and pleasant. The third day, 18 of the 22 miles were all on pavement which was really tough. I then lost count. Today was a short day, and not too mountainous but, pretty much, all on pavement. I passed through some very tiny and nearly abandoned villages on these mountain passes over the last few days. It seems almost like the land that time forgot...crumbling stone houses with "4 citizens and 7 thieves" as the population, reported one of the villagers. I don't know if modernity has reached these villages in the way of, say, dentistry, or vaccines. It would seem that neither flea powder nor feline birth control have reached the villages based on the number of mangy dogs and pregnant cats on the scene. The dogs scare me to death when they come bounding out barking. I don't carry a walking stick but I do carry a dog stick to scare them off. Picking up rocks from the road also seems to scare them a bit. And speaking of dentistry, or lack thereof, I met a couple of folks in a subsect of the culture that I was previously unaware existed but, yes, it seems that there are such a thing as French Hillbillies...at least two of them. They were a couple who stayed a few nights at the albergues with us (and when I say "us" I mean fabulous Bavarians Hans and Eva). Both the husband, and wife of this French duo are about the size of Granny Clampett. They are a bit odd, not very social and they stand there with their hands in their pockets and their toothless grins and mutter things in rapid fire French. They seem unaware that others might not understand them. They make no effort so slow down or use gestures. Hans and Eva speak French relatively well and cannot understand the husband. Much as in my own marriage, the husband seems to be more of a hillbilly than the wife. They are an odd lot and it is to their credit that they were aware that there was life outside of their rural village.
I've now walked through Andalucia, Extremadura, Castilla y Leon and am now in Galicia. It is a region known to be green, wet and rainy. But, alas, since I have entered the region the temperatures have sky rocketed. It is a rare situation that Galicia has the highest temperature in the whole of Spain but this has been the case for the last several days. It was well into the 80s again for about the third or fourth day and was around 90 here in Orense a couple of days ago and might match it today. Again, it's beautiful but way too hot. I shouldn't complain though as these mountain passes would be treacherous in the rain so I guess I should be content with the sun. Today was rather hazy, perhaps due to the local wildfires that are covering some of the area moutnains.
Tomorrow I will make an effort to walk a whopping 26 miles all up hill, in an effort to cut out a day of walking and arrive in Santiago on Saturday, rather than Sunday, the day of my flight. It will take a huge effort on my part and I doubt that I will make it that far so it is more likely that I will arrive on Sunday but well ahead of the time of my evening flight. I imagined that I would return home feeling a bit more fit, with stronger muscles but I think it will really be the case of returning home with ruined feet and knees.
If there is anything that has kept me going the last few days, it is Hans and Eva who are so kind, generous, and fun, it is truly only the hopes of seeing them each evening at the albergues, that gets me through the days...that and the delightful "village people" that stop me to chat in these little tiny villages that I pass through each day. Today I am in Ourense which is a full on city with over 100,000 people so it is quite a change from the last few weeks. Perhaps, if I survive, my next post will be from Santiago.
4 comments:
Thank god you're alive- I was actually worried that you'd been attacked by a dog or tumbled down a steep mountain, after I briefly perused your route last week and every single blog post / comment - bar none- referenced the mountains and/ or territorial dogs. And the remotely populated route. To the extent that I figured I was looking at a different route than the one you, a lone, middle-aged woman with no "gizmo" to call for help, would undertake. Especially after you reported / complained about walking up "hills" for two miles the first days, but the albergue priest had blessed you by telling you there'd be no more of them. Perhaps he's unfamiliar with the inter web, or just figured you'd quit / keel over/ be eaten by dogs before you got to the mountainous section. Glad you've almost accomplished your goal. I'm thinking next vacation, you can go to some beach and be surprised by/ complain about all the sand and the ocean. Carry on and call your mom. XoV
Indeed, the biggest physical effort on your next vacation should involve lifting cocktail umbrellas.
So glad you're almost home!
Regarding quigley's comments above... I believe after one pilgrimage you and CCW did in fact hit a beach in Puerto Rico. Of course, it was the travel version most would not opt for complete with meals taken at a local restaurant, I mean family kitchen:)
Laura~ well done friend. Char
You are amazing, if not crazy! We're getting you a gizmo before your next camino. I drove by your house today. Everything looks great. Where will you stay in Santiago? I'm dying to know if you'll splurge for one night.
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