A quick update:
We left Ponferrada today for Lugo. I believe Lugo is part of the Camino Primitivo. This explains the number of brass shells embedded in the pavement, the occasional yellow arrow, and a sign offering direction to pilgrims on horseback. Lugo has a 2 km long Roman wall that Andrew and I walked tonight under cloudy skies. I hobbled. Andrew walked the entire 2 kms.

Tomorrow we leave for Sarria, about 115 kms outside of Santiago. As I am able to walk on crutches with less pain tonight, we are hoping that, with one more day of rest, I might be able to put in 10 km days all the way to Santiago. While it would be nice to walk to Santiago using my new hiking poles, I might instead need to lean on my crutches all the way. Shhhh…don’t tell Dr. Henry!

Trinidad de Arre to Zariquiegui
A group of five (including 4 Canadians) left the monastery at Trinidad de Arre and searched for breakfast. I guess we pissed off Ted, as he wouldn’t enter the bakery with us. He went looking for protein. I ate the Spanish version of the donut. Yummy. I know Ted is still walking. Others have seen him. Given my knee problems later on the Camino, I should have been more focussed on the protein. :/

Anja, Gary, Mary, and I took a slow walk into Pamplona. I had one of those “pinch me” moments. Pamplona lived and breathed around me. Colours. Smells. Fun! As I parted ways with my three Camino friends, a tourist bus unloaded near us, and we were suddenly the subjects of their photos. We were real, live Pilgrims! I guess this 60 seconds goes towards my total 15 minutes of fame.

Anja needed to take a short day to heal her sizable blisters, and both Gary and Mary had planned a full day in Pamplona. I would have liked to stay, but Burgos by the 21st of September beckoned. Once I was outside Old Pamplona, I managed to twice lose my way in New Pamplona. Don’t ask. Twice I was helped by citizens who yelled “Senora Peregina” and pointed the way I should have travelled. Not sure how I managed to miss so many of those shiny discs engraved with shells along the Way. It is hard to gape at a beautiful city and watch where you are going at the same time.

Not everyone in the “big city” was especially kind. Or perhaps the lesson is that teenagers are pretty much the same the world over. I was trucking along in my Keen’s hiking sandals and black skort, both knees hidden under thick black tensor sleeves, when I encountered a group of cool Spanish girls. Supermodel types. You don’t need much Spanish to know when you are being ridiculed. Meh. I’ll pray for them in Santiago too. On the cheesy side…they called me “Americano”. I didn’t correct them. hehehe

Outside of Pamplona, I again got lost in Cizur Menor. The problem with getting lost is having to retrace your steps…in the heat…in pain….I was so disoriented by this time, and frustrated at my apparent inability to follow a clear way-marked path. A nice hospitalera at an albergue resembling an oasis pointed me in the right direction, and offered me water. I nearly refused out of politeness. THAT would have proven a serious mistake later.

What’s the rule? If you can’t say anything nice, yadda yadda yadda. I sweated, and burned in the sun, and climbed, and sweated, and burned, and swatted at flies that loved my brand of sweat and smell, and climbed some more. I climbed past a castle ruin at Guendulain (?) and didn’t care. I passed Lena from Denmark who looked like I felt. We both feared we’d run out of water before finding a fountain offering potable water. After checking in with her, I continued to climb, sweat, and conserve what little water I had remaining. Lena caught up with me at a sign posting a 2 km walk to the nearest albergue. So close yet so far.

I’ve been thirsty before, but I’ve never experienced fear over running out of water and perhaps becoming sick as a result. Scary. I paid my respects at a memorial to a fallen pilgrim, and slogged through the heat again. When Lena and I arrived at Albergue de Zariquigue, I think Lena was prepared for violence if they had turned us away. “I just cannot walk anymore,” she said. Neither of us needed to walk further that night. However, if you must know how BAD I looked, even with pigtails and a skirt, the hospitalero entered my deets into the computer as MALE!!! ‘Nuff said.

Today was a day I asked myself often, “Why am I doing this? Surely there are steep rocky or dirt paths along the Bruce Trail I could climb near home? Did I have to spend my time in Spain living like an ancient penitent on the road to Santiago? Maybe I should have stayed in Pamplona.”

After a shower, a great pilgrim’s meal, a couple litres of water, and the bottom bunk for the night, I was able to look fondly at my Keen’s hiking sandals again.

Ultreia!