Transition.
Plan B.
Acceptance.

Between Navarette (Camino 1) and Sarria (Camino 2.0), I spent many hours on the R.I.C.E. program: Rest (…ya think? I could NOT walk), Ice (…but not really. Just try to get ice in an albergue or two-star hostal), Compression (…thanks to the good doctors at the Burgos hospital, I sported a King Tut wrap that threatened my circulation), and Elevation (…I now salute with my left foot).

In Navarette, two strong men and the hospitalero’s wife carried me from my second floor bunk bed outside to a waiting taxi. 130 Euros + a well-deserved tip bought me a trip to Burgos where Raoul the driver deposited my backpack at a 3-star Hostal, and then drove me to the hospital.

Then I waited all day and into the evening for Andrew to arrive from Madrid. We discussed our options following my second trip to the hospital. Andrew taught me how to use crutches, and how to be patient with myself, then helped me to an outdoor cafe where I could put my good foot on the Camino.

We decided to give my knee a few more days of RICE in Leon. As in Burgos, Andrew wandered the city and brought back pictures and stories. We found a room at a comfortable hostal in the shadow of the great Leon cathedral. I struggled with crutches and visited a physiotherapist.

Now the physiotherapist, Dr. Bob, was awesome. He used some gentle massage and ultrasound on my leg, before graduating to intense Spanish Inquisition-style stretching, deepER tissue massage (ouch!!!), and electric FREAKIN shock.

I suffered. Andrew and Dr. Bob talked politics.

Dr. Bob asked me if I had hope. Each time I left his office, I experienced four or five minutes of tolerable weight bearing movement. Yes, Dr. Bob, you gave me hope. As well as some wicked, deep-tissue bruises.

On our last night in Leon, Andrew and I attended a Pilgrim Mass. As is the custom, the priest called the peregrinos up to the altar and blessed us. He winced at my knee and asked what happened. Then the good Padre blessed my knee. I kept repeating the phrase, “Just say the Word, and I shall be healed.” The walk back to the hostal was easier that evening, and Camino 2.0 on crutches began to feel like a real Plan B.

Now, I know you’ll say thank the doctors, the drugs, the King Tut wrap, and the Spanish Inquisition stretching. I did…and do. AND I thanked God. Because every blessing, every prayer, every good wish from my friends at home and the peregrinos along The Way helped to put my feet on, yet, another brass shell embedded in the concrete along the Camino in Leon.

From Leon, we travelled, again by bus, to Ponferrada. Gotta say, if you are going to spend time holed up in bed with Spanish tv, no books, and iffy WiFi, you should score a room in a hostal that resembles a medieval castle. Complete with a balcony and a view of mist covered mountains!

Andrew toured the 12-century Templar castle. I toured the front lobby and had my photograph taken with the armour. Oh well. We also enjoyed our first McDonald’s meal in Spain. Did you know that the drive-through in Spain is called McAuto? I thought it was the name of a new model of McDonald’s car. (Nah. Not really.) McDs was within walking distance and not too tough on my knee. So, I think we enjoyed(?) a couple meals there. And WiFi. 🙂

From Ponferrada, we travelled by bus to Lugo. All my Camino research had been focussed on the Camino Frances, so I wondered at the many arrows for the Camino in Lugo, and the many peregrinos, and the many albergues for peregrinos. Lugo is along the Primitivo route. The original route. It’s a nice university city surrounded by an intact, two-kilometer 3rd century Roman wall. Andrew loved the wall, and walked often along it. I walked some of it, but I hungered for Sarria and the Camino Frances. I moved well, though painfully, and painfully slowly. Through the Pyrenees, I’d wave to the Griffin vultures so they wouldn’t think I was dead. On crutches, I barely moved forward. :/ In a Zombie Apocalypse, I was screwed.

The next morning, we reorganized our backpacks, tucked away the hiking poles we bought in Leon (one big vote of Camino confidence), and left Lugo by bus for Sarria. Sarria to Santiago de Compostela on crutches. 115 kms.

So Lugo is where the taxi/bus portion of my Camino ends. After the initial disappointment, depression, and frustration with my limitations, I had to accept that my injury was largely in my control. I could have stopped walking at the first signs of pain. I could have taken a rest day. I could have walked less, bussed more, and met Andrew on two healthy legs. People who bussed were cheaters, I thought. People who shipped their backpacks were not “real pilgrims”, I thought.

I couldn’t hear the wisdom of the Camino until I left her. Accept. Be grateful. Give thanks.

Ultreia!