April 1 & 2: 30km to go (Lestrove)

I thank deeply the kind, concerned people who sent me encouragement and support after yesterday’s post. I WAS very sad yesterday, but I also feel I made a big step toward addressing that sadness by reframing my expectations, the asks in my prayers. Time will tell.

Today, however, was splendid. I felt very “upbeat”. I marched along, lickety-split, to “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing”. I know it’s totally the wrong season for carols, but something about the giving of Glory and Thanks to God just felt right today.

We stopped at a picturesque chapel, with a stream-fed, stone washing pool. Outside were 2 striking, modern wooden statues: a boot, which had become a bit of a pilgrim shrine, decked with lanyards, and what I can only describe as a “chap”, gazing skywards in slacks and shorts. I found him particularly resonant (see the album: “Camino Week 5: Mar 29 – Apr 4”). I edged my way through the dozen-or-so walkers waiting for their stamp by the door. Once inside, the church was almost empty, cool and peaceful. I found myself singing the Gloria audibly (but very quietly). I left feeling quite buoyed up.

The walk was busy, but at the same time peaceful, winding through woodland, farmland and villages. We must have crossed a dozen small stone bridges over streams and small rivers. This landscape is all about the water – not in the drowned, sodden way of our first few weeks, but in the lush, green way of water cascading from the hills. And, of course, slugs. It is the final “pastoral” day before we enter greater Santiago tomorrow on our way to the Cathedral. We were in no hurry to rush through it.

We stopped for coffee in a pilgrim rest-stop full of sporty-types with nice gear. Our mismatched kit, tattered boots really looked shabby, but they have served us well. Carey no longer has a pair of socks (inner or outer) without holes in them. My blue and my green t-shirts are lopsided from being wrung out in the shower every evening. We will leave a small pile of spent clothing behind when we depart for London on Sunday.

I finally fell over today. Every Camino involves at least one good tumble. Carey got his out of the way in the mud of week 1. I was trotting too fast on gravel, editing my photos at the same time and just went over at speed. I have grazed knees, palms, forearms, but, as I write to you after my shower, the grit is out and nothing is deep, just that kind of stinging, when everything you usually rest on is tender. I got a beautiful shot of the plum blossom though. That had eluded me for weeks.

We are staying tonight in an antique, stone guest house. We have tickets for the pilgrim table this evening - our first of this trip, on its last night. We’ll have Indian tomorrow in the Big City. We know just the place.