May 17: Mud! Glorious Mud!

We have had 2 easy days since I last wrote. I took a 37km stage and split it. So, they've each been more like a “big stroll” than a “hike”. This turned out very well, because the weather has been tricky. We've been rained on a fair amount (more than you’d hope, but less than we feared). However, the real challenges were the wind and the mud.

The photos show brown rivers, basically flowing silt after days/nights of rain. The mud here is gloopy. It holds to your boots in an enormous crust, removing your grip and trebling the weight. We’ve experienced a lot of sloshy, slippery stretches. My cheeks are red-raw from wind and glare. But, it’s our choice to be out here. Honestly, for 3 – 4 hours at a time, it’s even fun. And the skies! The blues… the clouds… the rhomboids of rain and rays of sunshine… They're breathtaking.

We are now walking through wine country (finally!). The vineyards create amazing stripes on the hills. The sunflowers are grown enough to also trace green lines on brown fields, but not so grown as to smoosh together. We’ve had a lot of fun trying to capture the interplay of manmade crop patterns and the sinuous curve and flow of the landscape. As “a photographer” (that is, someone with an iphone trying to share what they see), I am fascinated by the interplay of natural and artificial light. This is a physical equivalent: straight/parallel lines on an irregular landscape. The contrasting angles, colours of different plantings and crops are also intriguing to the eye. I wasn’t a photographer before I met Carey. It’s another gift his presence in my life has given me: a framing and attentiveness that enhances my experience of being in and moving through a place.

In creating our website (photo albums and these blogs), I have found a way to curate my own experience, by which I don’t mean “make smaller” or “make ideal”, rather, “make intentional” or “make visible”. It’s added what has become an important dimension to my camino experience.

When we walked into the village yesterday, we walked into a big band practice. There was a festival on Saturday night, so the local “teams” were warming up with an impromptu concert: Daft Punk, Robbie Williams, the Beatles… with rocking tubas, trombones, saxes and horns. It was joyful, skilful and absurd - that is, perfect!

Today, again, we arrived early and settled into the main square for a coffee, and then a beer, as we waited for our accommodation to open. It spat a bit, but was mostly dry. What was particularly interesting was the multiracial nature of the locals. We sat among several tables of men of Middle Eastern descent, drinking sharp coffee and playing cards together. The café was run by a team of sub-Saharan descent. Our host’s daughter (around 8) is a red-head. To see such a mix, apparently living and working together readily in a rural town felt very hopeful.