The Rain in Spain

...has been pretty relentless. It has been a cold, wet, and cloudy Camino journey this year — big difference from last year’s trek, when it was mild and sunny almost the entire month of April. This year, it appears Spain hasn’t gotten the memo that it’s springtime. 

There are spring flowers blooming in spots, but you have to keep your eyes peeled to find them. I found this little garden blooming alongside the Camino despite the fact that it had snowed the night before...(that’s snow on the grass behind the flowers)

All my life I’ve preferred rainy weather, but after 16 days straight, I confess I am a little tired of trekking through mud, and being cold & damp all day, despite being bundled up in (allegedly) moisture-wicking layers. I’ve had to use my very nice REI rain poncho every day, but I discovered, much to my chagrin, that it is water resistant, not waterproof. Between the sweat of exertion from walking many miles a day over varied terrain, and the rain soaking thru the poncho and into my warm but also only water-resistant jacket, I was getting pretty damp & cold. So last week I ended up buying an actual hooded rain jacket (which I usually hate because the plastic doesn’t breathe at all), and it has been a godsend! 

I heard that earlier on that Camino, in spots I’ve already passed, the constant rain caused major flooding on the Camino, and several pilgrims had to be rescued while attempting to rock-hop across what was, when I crossed it a week or so ago, a small and easily traversed stream. Yikes!

Probably from being outside all day for several days in damp clothes in the chilly air, I caught a bit of a cold last week, which has been kind of a bummer. Feeling OK and I don’t notice it when I’m walking, but I hate being “that person” in the hostels whose sniffling and coughing disrupts the sleep of fellow pilgrims. 

The very good news about the cold weather is that:

• It’s much easier on the feet. Even with comfortable, well-broken-in footwear, double layers of wool socks, and lubing the feet with lots of Vaseline to prevent the dreaded Camino blisters, when it’s warm outside and you walk 10-18 miles a day on sun-baked dirt, concrete, or gravel, you and your feet get pretty hot. Last year I had to stop & strip off the socks to cool my feet at least once a day. Not so this year! And no sign whatsoever of any blisters. 
• Warm weather tends to zap my energy, especially on long uphill climbs. It’s kind of my kryptonite — the hotter and brighter it gets, the more I fade. So with all this delicious cool weather, I feel energized almost all of the time — big change from last year. 
• Since I have done this Camino before, I am seeing familiar places but in very different weather, and also at different times of day, so it feels new. 

All that said, several stretches of this Camino are a muddy mess. I am ready for some drier weather. 

What has not changed from last year is the delight of meeting people from all over the world, sharing stories, food, equipment, songs, and great conversations. Something about being on the Camino allows people to open their hearts much more readily to perfect strangers. With no distractions and (in most cases) no rush to get to the night’s destination, it’s easy to fall quickly into very deep conversations as you take long, leisurely walks through the countryside.

I have often said the Camino is like a river of people. I spent two wonderful days walking & talking with Fiona from Wales, until the tides of the Camino shifted and she caught a bus to make up time lost to an injury earlier in the Camino. 

Many people have told me they think I am “brave” to walk the Camino alone. But I am rarely alone for long. I meet people literally all the time, and the longer I am here, the more familiar faces I see from previous days. Every day there’s a reunion. In fact, it’s a constant challenge to balance solitude with all the opportunity for socializing. I almost feel sorry for the couples or friends or groups walking together, since they seem to meet fewer people by sticking to their little units — they just seem a bit more isolated. 

Once again I am blown away by how the Camino provides. It’s truly amazing how whatever you need shows up. One day I forgot my phone cord, plug & adapter in a hostel, and out on the trail, lost the rubber tip to one of my walking sticks. At the next night’s hostel, I mentioned this to Craig from Ohio, a former IBM executive, who had the bunk next to mine. (Craig is on his 7th Camino — he’s completed four of them as an aide/guide to Vietnam vets suffering from PTSD.) Later I found an iphone cord & plug, plus 4 walking stick tips, neatly lined up on my bed, courtesy of Craig, who had extras. At dinner I met Allyssa from Arizona who gave me her extra plug adapter, so I was all set! Camino magic. 

That night I shared a wonderful impromptu dinner in the hostel’s communal kitchen with this group of fabulous women, most of whom are traveling solo:

Susie from Morocco (far left) brought a baby Martin guitar on the Camino and serenaded us all until it was time for lights-out, singing an amazing rendition of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah,” along with some of her original compositions. (Allyssa from Arizona, who gave me her extra converter plug, is 2nd from left.)

The communal dinners in the hostels can be hugely entertaining. Last night three friendly Irishmen from Dublin treated us to Irish ballads after dinner. Many nights, though, people seem too tired to do anything more than eat & make light chitchat. Most pilgrims are from Western Europe, so I’ve had a chance to practice my one semester of Italian, my long-forgotten 2 semesters of college French, and my pretty decent basic Spanish. Most Germans and folks from the Scandinavian countries speak very good English.

I have covered a lot of (muddy) ground. I’ve been on the Camino since March 31, and have walked about 190 miles. Tonight I’m in the tiny village of Hontanas, about 1/3 of the way to the Atlantic (see pink highlighted X):

I spent two nights in beautiful Burgos. With a population of 190,000, it’s one of the few large cities on the Camino. (Most of the towns on the Camino are tiny.) Burgos is home to one of the most breathtaking and spectacular Gothic cathedrals in the world. I never stop marveling that all of this was created between the 13th and 15th centuries, entirely without power tools...

Sunlight through stained glass illuminating one of the side chapel altarpieces in the cathedral. Stunning. 

I’m averaging 13 miles a day. The time flies. No injuries, just tired feet at the end of the day. My light pack doesn’t feel like a burden. Here’s a screenshot of my daily miles from my phone:

Sometimes when I get in the flow of walking it almost feels like I am being carried. After hours & hours, the alternating left-right rhythm of my arms/sticks with the opposite feet becomes totally automatic and I forget that I am walking.

It is very fun to look back and search for landmarks to see how much distance I’ve covered. This pic shows how far I traveled in one day...I took this early one morning — I had started the previous morning in a hostel near the top of that little pointed mountain (see arrow).

And nearing the end of a long day, nothing lifts the spirits like seeing the night’s destination village come into view.

Spending days & days, week after week on the Camino has the effect of stripping away the need for any structure beyond the most basic sustenance activities of eating, doing laundry, and sleeping. The freedom from virtually all decision-making is one of the best things about the Camino, and it’s why so many people see it as a walking retreat. I have spoken with many repeat peregrinos who, like me, have returned here in order to enjoy the uncomplicated pleasures of the very simple Camino routine. We ponder whether it’s merely an escape. Maybe, but it’s also a wonderful respite. It’s just too easy, as many pilgrims young and old have told me on this trip, to distract oneself with job, chores, relationships, social media, smartphones, etc. A 20-year-old told me that here on the Camino was the first time in her life she really just stopped to think. To have the luxury of several weeks at a stretch to contemplate nothingness and being-ness is a tremendous gift indeed. I am beyond grateful.

Of course I am frequently asked why I came back again, and I see in the questioners the same skepticism I had last year when I met repeat peregrinos. Why would you do this same route twice? My answer varies, but it’s something along the lines of: I just had to come back.