(Salceda to Lavacolla: 18 km, 6 hours, with 1 hr & 10 min breaks; 26,795 steps, plus 1700 later)

1Peter 2:4-12
v. 6-7a For in Scripture it says: “See, I lay a stone in Zion, a chosen and precious cornerstone, and the one who trusts in him will never be put to shame.” Now to you who believe, this stone is precious….

Tomorrow is the day we’ve been walking toward for six weeks. We will walk down from the Monte de Gozo, the Mount of Joy, into Santiago, through the streets of the old city, then down and around into the plaza where the cathedral stands, its stone towers soaring into the sky. Up the stairs, through the Portico of Gloria carved over 800 years ago, there is a pilgrim mass twice a day. In a crypt below the main altar is a silver casket containing the relics of Saint James, Santiago. But these ancient stones and beautiful shrines are not where our hope lies. Our salvation is found in Jesus, the “chosen and precious cornerstone,” the living Stone set by the Father as the foundation and head of the church, the One through whom all things were created and in whom all things hold together (Colossians 1:15-20). “The one who trusts in him will never be put to shame,” writes Peter. Dear Jesus, thank you for the beauty of the arts and for the remembrances of the saints that point to you.

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Breakfast in the lovely stone dining room / bar was pricey but along with our toasted crusts we got honey, yogurt, fruit and tiny croissants. Our route went along pleasant paths that stayed fairly level, crisscrossing the road. At the little chapel of Santa Irene (closed until later) a young woman was sellling the doughnut-like pastries we had met before. She had such an enormous stack of them that she must know the pilgrim trade well.

A little farther along we passed a bowl on a wooden chair sitting in the street. I walked closer. It was a bowl of figs set out for passing pilgrims. Oh joy and delight! I helped myself to a few for now and later. After a quick bar stop we continued through the now-familiar and comfortable Galician countryside of woods and granaries and dilapidated stone buildings. I was still counting down the kilometers and anxious to be finished this long walk.

A clean and renovated Galician stone wall

We stopped for lunch at a bar just off the road with shaded tables out front. Rod from Washington state was there. He walks more slowly than we do but doesn’t stop as much so we pass him often. Rod retired long ago at age fifty and travels to inexpensive third world countries. He never expected to be able to afford a trip to Europe until he heard about the Camino, which he is doing on a budget of around $30 a day (he does not splurge on private rooms).

Two roads diverged into a wood, and I–I took the one I hoped would get me to Santiago, and fast.

The Californians showed up for lunch too and we walked with them afterward to Lavacolla. We had reserved a room at Casa Lavacolla and, though we found the right building, we had to walk around a few corners and back onto the Camino to find the reception. The lady who appeared at our knock did not seem to think she had a room for us until we showed her the confirmation email; eventually she walked us back to the house we had already found. It was nicely renovated inside, though our room was cool and the bathroom was down the hall.

There seemed to be only one restaurant in town this late in the season and it didn’t open until 8 pm, so we chatted for a while at a table outside a bar with Bill and Peggy from Canada, then went to dinner with them. Before he started the Camino Bill had made a list of words, one for each day. He ponders his daily word, asks other people what they think about it, then writes his reflections in a journal. The only words he mentioned to us were “heaven” and “ghosts.”

Would you eat the local specialty for dinner?

Our first course at dinner was a melange of vegetables on a big serving platter, so healthy and satisfying that I wouldn’t let the waiter take it away when he brought my pot roast. Back at the Casa we used Maurice’s flashlight app to find our laundry in the dark, then we hung it in our room and turned on the small portable heater. It was a nicely designed house but our room smelled musty and there didn’t seem to be any central heating.