- Time of past OR future Camino
- Camino Frances Roncesvalles to Sahagun Oct 2016
Sahagun to SDC April 2017 Burgos to SDC April 2018
I was sitting here contemplating my walk through Galicia this spring and thinking about all of the discussions about rain there. I was fortunate when last I walked to Santiago to have nary a drop of precipitation. However, if I may be permitted to veer off on a bit of a tangent. Well, my wife says that most of my conversation is tangential, so here goes.
Several years ago, a friend and I walked the Wicklow Way through the mountains south of Dublin. When we got out of the taxi on the outskirts of Dublin, we commenced walking South and it commenced to rain. It continued to rain for the 7 or 8 days it took us to reach the end of the walk. I mean I have gotten out of swimming pools and been less wet. Most days I felt like that diver you have next to the shipwreck at the bottom of your aquarium with the bubbles coming out of his head. When we arrived at the southern terminus of the Way we discovered several things: a) our accommodation for the night was in another town some distance away, b) the lady who was to pick us up couldn't come for an hour or so because she had her finger in the hole in the dam and was preventing her town from being flooded. She couldn't leave until another finger arrived on the next shift, c) both of the town's pubs were closed. Really, I thought there was a law in Ireland to prevent that.
We eventually took shelter in a local shop. I believe to this day there is an owner of a hardware store who regales his friends with the story of a couple of Canadians who looked like drowned rats, left huge puddles wherever they went and muttered "how could both pubs be closed? Eventually our ride arrived and as she pulled up the rain stopped and the sun came out and everywhere people were thankful that those bloody Canadians had stopped walking and they could get on with their lives.
AS we drove out of town, we saw several leprechauns walking around in damp tweed, coughing up dust and saying: " how could BOTH pubs be closed. The scenery was great even if viewed as if looking through a waterfall. You know where you wonder: "is that a cow or a small house over there.?" Perhaps I'll venture back to determine if it was a cow or not. But I'm bringing my own beer. In the meantime, do your worst Galicia...I'm ready.
Several years ago, a friend and I walked the Wicklow Way through the mountains south of Dublin. When we got out of the taxi on the outskirts of Dublin, we commenced walking South and it commenced to rain. It continued to rain for the 7 or 8 days it took us to reach the end of the walk. I mean I have gotten out of swimming pools and been less wet. Most days I felt like that diver you have next to the shipwreck at the bottom of your aquarium with the bubbles coming out of his head. When we arrived at the southern terminus of the Way we discovered several things: a) our accommodation for the night was in another town some distance away, b) the lady who was to pick us up couldn't come for an hour or so because she had her finger in the hole in the dam and was preventing her town from being flooded. She couldn't leave until another finger arrived on the next shift, c) both of the town's pubs were closed. Really, I thought there was a law in Ireland to prevent that.
We eventually took shelter in a local shop. I believe to this day there is an owner of a hardware store who regales his friends with the story of a couple of Canadians who looked like drowned rats, left huge puddles wherever they went and muttered "how could both pubs be closed? Eventually our ride arrived and as she pulled up the rain stopped and the sun came out and everywhere people were thankful that those bloody Canadians had stopped walking and they could get on with their lives.
AS we drove out of town, we saw several leprechauns walking around in damp tweed, coughing up dust and saying: " how could BOTH pubs be closed. The scenery was great even if viewed as if looking through a waterfall. You know where you wonder: "is that a cow or a small house over there.?" Perhaps I'll venture back to determine if it was a cow or not. But I'm bringing my own beer. In the meantime, do your worst Galicia...I'm ready.