Up, up and Galicia!

"Fill up the water flask and gird your loins..." This was the sage advice from our guidebook concerning the 31 km day from Villafranca del Bierzo to the mountain destination of O'Cebreiro.  So gird my loins I did, and essentially attacked the steep ascents that marked a significant portion of the day's walking. Head down, bastones (trekking poles) clicking, legs grinding, I propelled myself at an astonishing rate, passing pilgrims, all of us in a state of breathless, sweating toil. Oh, and how we were rewarded with unbelievable vistas of Spanish farmland, mountains, and rolling cow filled pastures.

Steep ascent in the dark = sunrise of pink over the mountains.

"The Sound of Music" played on a reel in my head after rounding a bend and seeing this sight. 

Despite a belly full of pasta from the night before, I ate a staggering amount of food to keep me going throughout the day. Two heaping helpings of muesli and milk, coffee and a biscuit, five (yes, five) All Bran Chocolate Fiber bars, a nectarine, an entire pot (3-4 servings) of lentil soup with bread, 2.5 packets of fruit Mentos, a liquid chocolate hot chocolate, a KitKat bar, a bag of breadsticks, and an entire bag of pistachios. It seems pretty obscene when it's all typed out, and it is largely a result of a) hiking 20 miles uphill b) difficulty in finding vegetarian food and taking advantage of it when I do (hence all the soup) and c) being unable to wait until 7 pm to eat dinner and therefore snacking to the point where I am too full for dinner. Some days I have the Camino totally figured out, and other days lifestyle adaptation is still lacking. 

We have officially entered the state of Galicia, and it is breathtaking. It is a land characterized in the Celtic vein, with lush terrain, and a personality of rural simplicity. Walking through the mountain towns, there are overwhelming smells of hay, manure, animal and grass. Sometimes it is an overwhelming stench of "poop and beer" as Kelsey commented with distaste walking through one town. Carried on the wind are the tinkling of bells hung around the necks of sheep and cattle, the clop of hooves, the clucking of chickens and the deep grumble of tractors. It is an all encompassing sensory experience of country living. The language too is different, as in Basque Country, with a tendency toward Gaelic pronunciation. X replaces J, and all signs now appear in Galega and Spanish. 

We ended our days walk from Villafranca in O'Cebreiro. The first thing you encounter cresting the hill onto the cobblestone streets are giant tour buses of tourists seeking the views and charms of a mountain town. Our albergue, part of the network of Galicia's municipal albergues, was situated on a windy promontory overlooking swirling farmland. The rules in these municipal albergues are blunt and straightforward, with a clear hierarchy of those who will receive beds. If you disobey one of the rules (like disturbing the peace), you can be barred from all other municipal albergues to Santiago. In terms of who gets beds, pilgrims walking with their mochilas are the second highest priority behind pilgrims with disabilities. During the summer months, this can be a huge distinction when albergues can be completo (full) within minutes of opening. 

Don Elias Valina Sampedro

The Iglesia de Santa Maria Real in O'Cebreiro is one of the oldest sanctuaries for pilgrims, dating back to the ninth century. Additionally, the church is the resting place of Don Elias Valina Sampedro, a champion of the modern day pilgrim. It was his inspiration to mark the Way with the ubiquitous yellow arrows that have guided us for over 400 miles. Brilliantly, Jesus, my correo savior in Navarette has returned to the Camino! We were so excited to see each other again, as he proudly introduced me to his wife. They will walk to Santiago together. Furthermore, Pepe's father has come to join him for the final stage. The Camino family melds with our families from home. Following our meander through the town, Kelsey wasn't feeling well and retired early to the albergue to rest. 

Iglesia de Santa Maria Real

Walking into the stone Iglesia, it's simplicity was beauty. The Father was leading the assembled pilgrims and locals in a recital of the songs to be sung during Mass, and I joined in aided by the handy big screen PowerPoint of the words. Mass was spoken in both English and Spanish (a first!) so I was able to understand more than just verbs like "we walk" and "we hear". The sermon was very much directed towards the pilgrims in the pews, and it was comforting to hear words prayed for our protection and inner peace along the Way. As the sun set outside of the Iglesia, we all burned a little bit brighter on the inside.

Sunset from our albergue.

The next morning, I woke up, and it just wasn't my day. First, I got tangled up trying to put my clothes on in cramped quarters and ended up having to dress myself about three times. Somewhere in the melee, I lost one of my beautiful sea glass earrings from Hawaii. I had been wearing them since I was with Susan in Kailua, and I just couldn't accept that one was gone. I spent 20 fruitless minutes rooting around the albergue, unpacking my sleeping bag and mochila, and crawling around on my hands and knees while other pilgrims were trying to get ready. I was only able to recover a lonely backing, no deep blue glass stud. So with a heavy heart I headed out into the still dark morning, feeling like I was leaving something important behind. 

Within steps of the albergue, I was affronted by a female pilgrim, who roughly and insistently demanded if I knew where I was going. It went something like this:

Her: "Where is the arrow?"

Me: "It's over by the laundry, this way."

Her: "Are you sure?"

Me: "Yes."

Her: "I think you are just going towards an arrow pointing to the laundry poles."

Me (thinking): What?

Me: "It's right here" (pointing with my trekking pole to the yellow arrow marking the only logical path)

30 seconds later

Her: "I didn't see the arrow. Are you going the right way?" 

Me: no response

Kelsey: "Yes, there was an arrow." 

30 seconds later

Her (to another pilgrim passing us): "Is this the right way?"

At this point I kicked my walking into a higher gear to get away. 

Kelsey, Pepe and I were discussing the merits of walking with other pilgrims. At this point, we have a solid core of pilgrims we met within the first few days of our journey, who we enjoy walking with. We have all found though, that the "come one, come all" mentality of trying to get to know every pilgrim walking around you is beginning to wear off. For me, I always start conversations with pilgrims in the albergues, meeting the people living around me. But I find I mostly enjoy walking alone. It is automatic for all pilgrims to greet each other with kindness on the Way, and I feel warmth through that simple "Hola" or "Buen Camino," but I am not striking up as many in depth walking conversations. It is all an evolution of the experience. With the case of the pushy pilgrim in Villafranca, I am working on patience, but sometimes, biting your tongue is the best you can do. 

Alto de San Roque.

Pilgrim feet.

Fortunately the day turned around, and I reveled in the beautiful country we are walking through. Passing the statue of the medieval pilgrim at Alto de San Roque, we began a slow and steady descent towards the town of Triacastela. In town and settled we walked past a promising restaurant, and decided to brave the menu of the day. Romaine lettuce (no iceberg in sight) and fresh veggies for a starter, and salmon with potatoes followed by homemade arroz con leche (rice pudding). Win. All our pilgrim friends in Triacastela landed upon this delicious and lively restaurant. It was one of those places where people gather on a cold night, the decor inviting you in warming and subdued.

Beautiful, non-threatening dogs abound.

Plenty of cows too.

We had a very civil 19 km day, up and over one major hill into Sarria. This place, with more albergues than any previous place along the Camino (even Leon or St. Jean) is an important landmark on the Camino. It is a) a major town, dwarfing the tiny one albergue towns we have been walking through and b) is 115 km from Santiago. In order for a walking pilgrim to receive a Compostela, they must prove they have walked the final 100 km to Santiago, necessitating two stamps a day in our credencials for the remainder of our walk. So for a person desiring to make the pilgrimage, but strapped for time or for whatever reason, cannot walk such a great distance, Sarria is the best starting point. 

Sweet albergue.

Sarria has been a Camino treat. Due to the influx of pilgrims, there is an abundance of wonderful private albergues. We decided on Albergue Mayor, and it is easily one of the nicest albergue we have stayed in. The owner actually gave us towels for the shower! Important stuff. The sheets don't have any errant hairs from past pilgrims, and the kitchen and bathrooms are spotless. Deciding to conduct a massive laundry operation before our final five days on the Camino, I pulled out my one clean article of clothing to wear while everything was in the wash, a light Patagonia dress Kate had given me as a bon voyage gift. Clink! OMG! What should drop out if the dress that was crammed in the bottom of a stuff sack...my earring! What?! I have been reunited two days after I thought I had lost it for good. I was so surprised I actually let out a gasp and kissed it.

We had more surprises in store when we found a small hole in the wall cafe that felt as comfortable as any place back home. I ordered this, and all was alright in the world:

Returning to the same cafe a couple of relaxing hours later, we sat over a leisurely menu of the day. Kelsey and I are beginning to feel the winding down of the Camino. We have established our rhythm and routine, and now it feels like time to change everything up. Unfortunately, the forecast calls for rain the next few days, so I will dream tonight of dry feet and chocolate caliente in Santiago. Buen Camino!

Saggy Packa back sans mochila.