Today was ridiculous, and relentless, and blessed.
Last night I stayed in a parochial albergue in LaFaba. Very cool old building, with 10 beds in a lofted dorm house. I suspect that I got a solid hour and a half of sleep. I was the last one out the door this morning, and wasn't at all bothered by it. My feet and spirit needed the extra 30 minutes to dawdle and get the bones and muscles moving again.
I set out around 8am under cool and misty conditions. My feet actually felt good as I started up the hill towards O'Cebreio. A quick fill of the canteens at the local fountain found me wishing I had put my fleece on. Setting out, my guidebook told me to expect a steep ascent, but my mind underestimated the length and angle of incline. I was a slow pilgrim out there today. Fine by me. (Most of the people walking this section of the Camino have been at it for weeks, and their body has broken down and bounced back stronger). Mine is in the process of breaking down again, which I totally expected.
Each corner was met with hopeful expectation, and I was consistently amazed at how relentless the inclines kept coming 😂. It was a very slow 2.5km.
I passed through a small farm village with a cafe and took the time to pull the pack off and get the fleece on. Dropping the pack is a burden of energy, so we try to minimize that action. The fleece was needed. I elect to skip this stop for coffee and keep pressing onward.
After another 2km or so I am praying a rosary for my wife and I reach the next province of Spain, called Galicia. I reach this mark with great enthusiasm, as I have been walking through the region of Leon y Castilla forever.
As I stare at this monument I have a moment of awareness. Here's the train of thought I had...
I've been holding onto and carrying stuff for years. Literally, years. Unresolved things floating around in my spiritual headspace, a swarm of incomplete projects and ideas (hundreds) and even a physical trinket that someone asked me to carry for them on my first Camino in 2018.
Enough is enough is enough.
Let. It. Go.
It is time to move forward in freedom.
One of the things we say out here is that there's no going backwards. It's as true in life as it is in the Camino. There is no going back. On the Camino it's ludicrous, and that metaphor carries over perfectly in real life.
There is no going back. Those moments don't exist anymore. There's no reason to pitch a tent and stay there.
The only thing we have is now. The only path we have is forward. It's the only direction to move, and as humans we are designed to move. We were never designed to stay frozen in one place.
My soul got lighter as I made this peace at this monument. I returned to my steps and kept pushing it up that hill.
At the very top of that hill is the Druid town of O'Cebrieo, a very cool village with huts that have thatched roofs and a church where there was a Eucharistic Miracle. Story goes that a farmer named Juan Santín made his way to Mass in terrible and icy conditions, and the priest saying Mass that day was frustrated by Juan Santín's efforts to be there. It is also said that the priest did not believe in the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist. During the consecration at Mass, the bread turned to real human flesh and the wine to real human blood. The priest was astonished.
My personal take on this story is that it is absolutely true, and I'm betting Juan Santín walked up that hill in the ice and snow to be at Mass. I bet the Lord blessed them with that Eucharistic Miracle because of how much effort it took to be there. I can vouch for it. My feet were hurting by the time I reached that church!
After a great cafe stop in the town, I pressed on and on. The hills kept ascending and the temps kept dropping. At the top of the most ridiculous hill climb ever, I saw a cafe called Santa Maria (Saint Mary), praise the good Lord Jesus!!! I grabbed a sandwhich and coke while my feet recovered for a few minutes. Stepping back out onto the trail, ice cold rain soaked me to the bone. Temps were 42 degrees, and then the wind gusts started. It felt like a late December rain storm in the Georgia Mountains. My hands were frozen to the point that I stuffed my walking poles under my arms and my hands into my raincoat pockets for protection. I vowed I'd pull into the next Alburgue I saw, and i did just that.
Tonight I am staying at the Casa Galego Alojamiento in a mostly private room. It's the nicest Alburgue I've ever seen. It's nicer than the last hotel I stayed at on vacation. My pilgrim friends are going to make fun of me for staying at a place this nice.
Papa has blessed me. After one of the hardest days I've ever had in Camino, I'm receiving this gift as a sign of God's love for me. I'm out of my icy wet clothes and writing this on a swanky ikea style couch.
I'll take it, and I'll see you down the road. Greg
man that does look like a peaceful rest stop; hope you get lots of sleep brother. Love you.
God always meets you where you are and provides!! Proof right here. Love reading your blogs...keep them coming along with your steps. Praying for your strength of body and spirit on this journey!
You and God got this. Feel as though I’m on the journey with you, only a lot less tired. Thank you.
You write so descriptive. My feet hurt for you. I have a lot to let go and this encourages me to do so or at the very least ask why I haven’t let it go. Sending continued prayers of strength and motivation.
European weather certainly isn't Georgia weather! Enjoyed the post. I would have been at the same pace as you up that hill. It made me tired just thinking about it. Sounds like you had a moment of Zen when talking about "now" haha It's something I'm having to learn too. Be present in the moment. It's the only thing that's real.