Taking a break

We’re taking a couple of days off. Or off-ish. We hiked seven miles Sunday and another seven today, about half what we typically walk.

We needed the rest.

Saturday was not as hard as it could have been, but it wasn’t easy, either. The guidebook description of the hill said, “When the trail begins to climb again, the path is rocky and steep and slick with mud and horse shit. Tread carefully and think happy thoughts.” So when we came to the fork in the road that divided walking pilgrims from biking pilgrims, Rich was adamant. He was taking the bike route. I could do the walking route alone, or walk with him. Faced with a choice between a rocky path that was headed down when I knew we were headed a couple thousand feet up, or a paved path that was headed up, I decided that we started this thing together, we would finish it together.

So we took the bike route.

It was paved, but it was also a steady upward path. Once we passed O Cebreiro, we still faced some rocky upward climbs.

And I hate that I feel like I have to justify taking the route we took.

When we reached our lodging in Fonfria, we were both exhausted. The decision to take a taxi to Triacastela and then walk the seven miles to the Benedictine monastery at Samos was pretty easy. The walk was a little more challenging than we expected, but we finished early, had a leisurely lunch, toured the monastery, did our laundry, had dinner and attended Mass.

We had another relatively short walk today, reaching Sarria before noon with plenty of time for naps, shopping and a leisurely dinner.

Self-care is important sometimes. But tomorrow, it’s back to business with a 14 mile hike to Portomarin.

I am a little disappointed in the Benedictine monks at Samos.There are only seven of them in an enormous monastery, but I don’t think they do a very good job of embodying the Benedictine charism of hospitality. We attended the evening Mass, and it was pretty perfunctory. No words of welcome, no blessing for pilgrims, just a 25-minute service with the lights turned off seconds after the priest pronounced the benediction. I can’t imagine the sisters at Mount St. Scholastica being quite so cold and disinterested in guests. Maybe they’ve just set a high bar for other Benedictines to aspire to.

You’re never far from history when on the Camino, but sometimes the history feels more immediate than others. On Sunday’s walk, it wasn’t hard to imagine a young man or woman in medieval times trudging along the path, making his or her way to a cloistered life as a priest or nun. Once we left the highway, much of the path was dirt or gravel, winding its way through trees and the occasional hamlet. 

So ... don’t.

The walk from Triacastela to Samos did not have any services, meaning no cafes for second breakfast and no cafe restrooms. Apparently, that has been a problem. We saw three or four of these signs along the way.