sophiehebrides
New Member
- Time of past OR future Camino
- Camino Ingles 2016
I've had some time for my feet to recover and my mind to reach into the spaces created by my Camino in April. Thank you all that offered words of advice and support, they were heeded and aporeciated.
I made it to Ferrol on the morning bus from SdC, just. In typical fashion I was late and had to run. This didn't help my feet... The day was beautiful, warm and sunny but I didn't appreciate it - I rushed, worried about getting to PD in time for a bed. I wrote in my journal 'I am meeting myself at every step'... Stressed, still tired from the journey to Spain and now with sore blistered feet but STILL rushing! I needn't have, I was the first of 3 to arrive in the albergie that night.
I calmed over the next 4 days as my blisters got worse and my humility increased, I walked alone as I had wanted but made friends (sometimes grudgingly) with a beautiful French woman who reminded me of my Mum. The route was quiet and there was lots of time for contemplation, though I quickly learnt that, actually, I do little of that, rather I worry about km walked and km to walk... I had to force myself to take it all in and sometimes I did.
On the 3rd day from Betanzos to Bruma it rained and rained. Bar Julia was open! I have never been so happy to walk into a cafe, especially when I was promptly offered a pancake. Walking up the hill was ok, walking past the pig factory was aroma-torture and my feet had had it, i learnt how to concentrate on one step at a time. I was well fed and looked after that night in Meson de Vento by the lovely family that run the small hostel/hotel and I met some more peregrinos. There are now (to my knowledge) 6 of us on the Way. I wake feeling more sociable and walk with the other woman who I've been passing through the previous days, she's quick though and I'm hurt so I stop a while in a meadow and let her go on. That night in Segirrio I am ready to give up - i walk the final 8km in my plastic sandals as my feet are so sore. A Catalan who is also on the route shows me where the hostel is when I'm so tired I can't read the map and proceeds to cheer me up with card games and lots of laughter. The Hospitaliro sorts my blisters and gives me some much appreciated care and attention. Amazing what a human touch can do when you're down. I get mistaken for a prostitute whilst outside on the phone to my boyfriend.
We start the last day together, 2 Catalans and I with much love and friendship made the night before, but I want to finish alone so I stop in a field to drink in the morning sun and let them go on. The last day is hard but filled with a kind of joy and I'm crying as I enter the old city, for my feet, for my Dad, for me. I meet the Catalans in the Cathedral and the French lady and we take silly pictures of each other and hug goodbye.
It was enlightening, tough and very joyful and I'm looking forward to the next.
Buen Camino!
I made it to Ferrol on the morning bus from SdC, just. In typical fashion I was late and had to run. This didn't help my feet... The day was beautiful, warm and sunny but I didn't appreciate it - I rushed, worried about getting to PD in time for a bed. I wrote in my journal 'I am meeting myself at every step'... Stressed, still tired from the journey to Spain and now with sore blistered feet but STILL rushing! I needn't have, I was the first of 3 to arrive in the albergie that night.
I calmed over the next 4 days as my blisters got worse and my humility increased, I walked alone as I had wanted but made friends (sometimes grudgingly) with a beautiful French woman who reminded me of my Mum. The route was quiet and there was lots of time for contemplation, though I quickly learnt that, actually, I do little of that, rather I worry about km walked and km to walk... I had to force myself to take it all in and sometimes I did.
On the 3rd day from Betanzos to Bruma it rained and rained. Bar Julia was open! I have never been so happy to walk into a cafe, especially when I was promptly offered a pancake. Walking up the hill was ok, walking past the pig factory was aroma-torture and my feet had had it, i learnt how to concentrate on one step at a time. I was well fed and looked after that night in Meson de Vento by the lovely family that run the small hostel/hotel and I met some more peregrinos. There are now (to my knowledge) 6 of us on the Way. I wake feeling more sociable and walk with the other woman who I've been passing through the previous days, she's quick though and I'm hurt so I stop a while in a meadow and let her go on. That night in Segirrio I am ready to give up - i walk the final 8km in my plastic sandals as my feet are so sore. A Catalan who is also on the route shows me where the hostel is when I'm so tired I can't read the map and proceeds to cheer me up with card games and lots of laughter. The Hospitaliro sorts my blisters and gives me some much appreciated care and attention. Amazing what a human touch can do when you're down. I get mistaken for a prostitute whilst outside on the phone to my boyfriend.
We start the last day together, 2 Catalans and I with much love and friendship made the night before, but I want to finish alone so I stop in a field to drink in the morning sun and let them go on. The last day is hard but filled with a kind of joy and I'm crying as I enter the old city, for my feet, for my Dad, for me. I meet the Catalans in the Cathedral and the French lady and we take silly pictures of each other and hug goodbye.
It was enlightening, tough and very joyful and I'm looking forward to the next.
Buen Camino!
