Onward and upward!

(Palas de Rei to Castaneda: 22.5 km, 7 1/2 hours, with 1 hr & 30 min breaks; 32,333 steps, plus 200 later)

Hebrews 13:11-16
v. 14 For here we do not have an enduring city, but we are looking for the city that is to come.

Santiago de Compostela certainly seems to be an enduring city. People have been going there ever since it began growing around the tomb of St. James in the ninth century. Along with Rome and Jerusalem, two other even more ancient and enduring cities, it was one of the major pilgrimage centers of the Middle Ages. Yet given enough time all of earth’s cities will crumble. We can see it start to happen when earthquakes, floods, fire, terrorism or war bring sudden destruction; we see the great effort it takes to make repairs. We also see changes in cities and their people caused by political, economic and cultural shifts. Every part of life teeters on its edge. But God’s people always have a hope, the promise of the New Jerusalem, the holy and heavenly “city that is to come.” It will last not for centuries or millenia but forever. We will live with our Lord Jesus where “there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain” (Revelation 21:4). Lord, we thank you for the wonders we see in many beautiful cities of earth. Help us not to put our faith in them or their leaders but to cling to you and trust you to lead us to our eternal home.

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We sent our packs ahead for the second day because we were walking a few more kilometers than our average and I was tired. The cost of the pack transport service is lower here, only 3€ apiece–perhaps more competition?

We had a light but pricey breakfast in the albergue and left at 8:30 for more lovely walking in and out of beautiful woodlands, along mossy and overgrown stone walls and through charming hamlets full of stone buildings and granaries, all under gray but not precipitating skies. Purple heather and little yellow flowers bloomed along the path.

There were noticeably more people on the Camino; in places we could see a trail of pilgrims moving down the road into the distance, like ants from their nest to the jelly on the counter. We stopped at Casa Domingo, a crowded tiny bar in an ancient house with a manger built into an interior stone wall. We met Jonathan taking a break there too. Soon we were walking again and seemed to have lost some of the crowd (probably still standing in line at the bar’s one-seater). At a bar in O Coto I bought a snack that looked like a doughnut but disappointingly was not.

Over the past few days we have been passing the two “no salad” Korean men from earlier in the walk. When we see them Maurice or I say the greeting we learned when we lived in Korea forty-plus years ago. After their great surprise the first time we said it, now they smile and bow and greet us like old friends. One of the men had admired Maurice’s drawing one evening so, even though they don’t have a common language, they have a connection.

We’ve passed many little churches, their doors locked, apparently a recent necessity due to increasing numbers of pilgrims and their less than holy behavior. We stopped for a wax sello from a man with a stand in his front yard; he had a picture of himself holding his bike aloft in Santiago after his 100th bicycle pilgrimage…with only one foot.

On another medieval bridge

I was very tired and glad I didn’t have the backpack. As we walked into Furelos a waitress at the gate of the cafe Casa Alongas was telling some passing pilgrims that they have the best cooking on the Camino, with vegetables, and fresh. I walked right in. Maurice got a Black Angus burger and I got a dish of grilled vegetables. Delicious. I was fortified for a few more kilometers.

Farther on a little church was open, offering sellos and an enthusiastic guide. We got another sello from the donkey pilgrim, a man camped in the woods with his donkey, who was not cooperating for photos. One of the intriguing granaries was open in Boente with corn stacked inside.

I felt like I was dragging all afternoon, and maybe I was, because it was 4:00 when we finally got to our stopping point, the Albergue Santiago in Castan(y)eda. Maurice was pleased that we got a private room. We had dinner downstairs in the four-table bar–a standard but tasty big salad, then a nice hunk of beef for me and ribs for Maurice, with French fries, of course. For dessert they offered cheese and quince jelly, which I was delighted to select, though Maurice went with ice cream. At the conclusion of the meal the waitress brought us glasses of an herb-infused digestivo, a first with a pilgrim menu. We ate with Jutta from Germany. “Why are there so many Americans on the Camino?” she asked us. We don’t know but we have noticed it too. Most of them are our age or older. Maybe they’re baby boomers out for their last hurrah, still doing their own thing with more money and time now, still refusing to grow up or get old.