Today is Day 35 of our Camino, and so far, we have not used our rain gear.
That could change tomorrow. The forecast offers a 45 percent chance of rain starting around 11 a.m., and it’s not likely that we’ll reach our destination that early. So this could be our chance to break out the rain coats and the pack covers.
Tomorrow is also our second to the last day before reaching Santiago, so I’d say we’ve been pretty fortunate as far as the weather goes.
Yes, we’re almost there. We still have lots of walking in our future: After Santiago, we’ll take four days to walk to Finisterre. But we expect to walk into the plaza in front of the Cathedral of Santiago sometime in the early afternoon on Oct. 7.
It’s both satisfying and bittersweet. The physical accomplishment is enormously satisfying. We’ve put one foot in front of the other over the Pyrenees, through the grape growing region, across the Meseta, and down some really difficult stony descents. We persevered through ankle and Achilles injuries as well as a stomach virus that swept through the pilgrim throng in Carrion de Los Condos (although I still blame the paella.) We didn’t give up. We’re still married.
Bittersweet because it’s a long time goal almost achieved, and the question of what comes next still remains unanswered.
The 100 kilometers to Santiago marker.
The church has decreed that in order to get the Compostela, or the paper that certifies that one has completed the pilgrimage, a pilgrim must walk at least 100 kilometers. The city that is closest to that 100 kilometer mark is Sarria, and the number of pilgrims on the trail increased dramatically when we left Sarria on Monday.
The impact of the additional pilgrims goes far beyond simple numbers, though. They’ve changed the entire nature of the Camino.
They’re noisy. Lots of folks talking on cell phones. Large groups that spread out over a few hundred yards and then feel compelled to yell to each other. Where we could listen to the crunch of our feet on a gravel path, and hear the sound of birds calling a week ago, if we want to hear those sounds now we have to either get up really early to beat the crowds, or start really late and walk slowly.
The new pilgrims also don’t seem to understand Camino courtesy. If you hear footsteps gaining on you from behind, it’s customary to step aside and let the person pass with a friendly “Buen Camino.” But these groups walk four and six people abreast, and the only way around is to simply push past them. We saw a bicyclist stop and walk his bike around a crowd this morning because they would not yield.
And there are lines for everything now, from restrooms to coffee. I stopped in a little church yesterday thinking to enjoy a bit of silence and solitude, only to have a line of chattering pilgrims form to snag a stamp for their passport.
Sigh.
I sound like an old woman who wants to shake her cane at the neighborhood kids and tell them to get off her lawn.
I’m sure there’s a spiritual lesson in here somewhere, probably along the lines of “Judge not, lest ye be judged.” But doggone it, I wish they were a little quieter.
