Change of Plans - Day 34 (May 17)

It seems that as we continue on our pilgrimage, I get further and further behind on my posts. Days seem to blur together. The constant crunch, crunch, crunch of footsteps seem to have that effect on me. I can't remember what towns I have gone through. I can't remember what I saw, only that it was wonderful. If I didn't have my pictures to refer back to, I would remember only vague generalities with snippets of specifics. Sometimes I think that is what the pilgrimage should be. Yet, I want to remember so much and my pictures help provide that for me. So... pictures I continue to take.

After a quick breakfast in our albergue, Albergue Reboleira, we headed out in anticipation of what we would see today. Our immediate destination was Triacastela with a decision to make on two alternate paths once we arrived there.

Clouded Valley

Our morning was met with the most beautiful view - a valley filled with a blanket of white clouds. We hoped that we would stay above it, rather than descend into it. Along the road there was a farmer who headed out to a pasture, beer bottle in hand, to a cow in obvious need of milking. A calf was laying silently right next to our path. As I imagined, the mother had abandoned her calf and the farmer was doing what any good farmer would, acting as surrogate as best he could.

Feeding Calf

The downhill walk was much easier than we were led to believe it would be, really more of a gentle decline. We stopped at one of the nicest restaurants we have seen along the way for a cup of coffee. Actually, it was more of a stop for a restroom break with a great cup of coffee thrown in. So far, most of the time, there are bar/restaurants spaced frequently enough that we have not had to resort to the "going back to nature" approach. In fact to reduce weight, although not that much, I discarded my "male device". To me it turned out to be more of a novelty with more effort than the old fashioned way.

The route to Triacastela was dotted with small little country villages which we very much enjoyed. Once there we stopped for lunch, a not so good empanada and checked comments on internet camino blog to decide which of the two routes on which we should proceed - the Northern shorter route to Sarria or the Southern route that went through Samos where the oldest monestary in Europe existed. We chose the Northern route based primarily on comments but also it was the recommended Brierley route and it was shorter. These tired muscles were dictating to us.

Monastery

As I walked, all I could think of was how close we were getting to Santiago and how I don't feel like I have had a significant personal change or spiritual awakening. I am concerned that I will go back home unchanged from this experience. I will still have my circular thoughts and my spiritual doubts. I have had some very emotional moments and I hope that these last few days will help congeal those into something more substantial. I hope, as the nuns at the albergue (of which I cannot recall) said, that I don't find Santiago but God welcoming me there.

About 9 kilometres into the walk we said this was the first time we didn't chose the path least travelled and that the path we were on just didn't feel right to us. Then we had the brilliant idea to check our favorite book on the Camino - Bill Bennett's "The Way, My Way" and found his description of his walk to to Samos so desirable that we were convinced we had chosen the wrong path. Why didn't think of this back in Triacastela?

At this point we started asking farmers and other pilgrims where we could get a taxi to take us back to Triacastela to go the other way. They all looked at us like we were crazy. But we just knew we were on the wrong path for us and that there was a reason that we felt that way and to listen to it. After being told by the farmer and the other pilgrims that we would have to go all the way to Sarria to get a taxi, we came upon a little bar next to a highway where the hostess, despite agreeing we were "loco" called for a cab to take us back to Triacastela.

Immediately as we started this new route, even despite the first three kilometres being on and along the highway, we knew we were on the right path. We weren't sure why but knew we would find out. After we left the road, the path meandered along the river, part of which had such calm waters that it made me think of the 23rd Psalm - He leadeth me beside still waters and restoreth my soul. Such comfort. We were indeed on the right path.

Even though we arrived at the monastery (which also housed our albergue) muy cansado (very tired), we still decided to take a tour of the building given it's signficance. Unfortunately, there were no more handouts in English and the guide only spoke Spanish so in very short order we were wishing we would have stayed back and showered. We actually snuck out before the tour ended to do just that before we returned for evening vespers.

Contemplative Monk

The vespers were really very special. There was a huge pipe organ that played at the back as the monks chanted. Closing our eyes, we let the music waft over and through us. Although we could understand nothing of the words, the music rose above.

A peregrino meal at the bar across the street from the albergue with just enough time to get settled for the night and our day was over.

Lesson of the Day: Listen to your internal guide and understand that sometimes this means a do-over.

 

 

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