Day 19: Solidly in Phase 2

I had read before I started this walking thing that there were three distinct phases to the Camino.

The first, from the French border to Burgos or so, is the physical part. And that was the case, indeed. This is the blisters and the oh-my-God-my-backpack-is-so-heavy and the Advil popping portion of our show.

I truly feel like I've turned the corner there. Yes, when the day stretches to more than 25 km, things start to hurt, I won't lie. But the past few days I've felt strong, my pace has picked up, and I don't notice the backpack at all any more. Really.

Because we're into Phase 2 now, friends. The mental part of the game. Yesterday I experienced what can only be described as a melt down.

The walking part was nice, if a bit dull (I'm still on the meseta, so the view hasn't changed much for a few days now -- think driving across Indiana if that helps you). The sun even came out for a bit. Or at least the rain held off until I was done walking. The town (Carrion de Los Condes) was cute. People in the center called out encouraging things to me.

But I got all weepy and began questioning everything. It didn't help matters that it was Thanksgiving. I haven't really celebrated Thanksgiving in years, since it's odd doing it on a normal Thursday, and by the weekend the urge has passed. Regardless, it usually does make me a tiny bit wistful. And when you are all by yourself, that can easily spin out of hand.

I was a real weepy mess. Just could not stop crying. The Home Team all had a difficult day, too, and although my presence at home would not have changed much about that, it's hard to feel you are being supportive from such a distance.

They encouraged me to make no rash decisions at the moment, and to sleep on it, which I did. Of course, everything is better in the morning. I still reserve the option to assess things when I arrive in León. I might hop a bus and cut out some stages. But I won't decide anything until I get there.

For one thing, the weather is forecast to improve on Sunday. Today is 7C/45F and drizzly. It's not really too, too bad, in fairness. For half of today's walk I didn't even wear a jacket (until the drizzle began). And it's not August. There would have been no shade today in mid-summer. It would be brutal, and I don't know how people do it.

I walked today along what was originally a Roman road (but unlike the bits of Roman road I've come across, this had nice, small gravel on it -- easy to walk on!). My notes say, "Probably very boring." It wasn't boring. But it was a very strange feeling.

I saw a few cars. A tractor. A couple of pilgrims heading the OTHER way (probably walking home from Santiago -- it happens, and more often than you think). I memorized part of the license plate of a car that passed me, and it became my mantra: 6-2-7-7, 6-2-7-7…

You know how some things can make you feel really small? Like a grand cathedral. Or the big streets in Moscow. I've never stood on the edge of the Grand Canyon, but I bet that's humbling.

That's how this felt. There was just flat farm land. And the Camino. If I stopped, which I did from time to time, I could hear the traffic on a highway I couldn't see. But not always. Mostly it was just the wind. Some birds, but not many.

It's a lot of head time, this sort of sameness.

Often, I can see my destination for a while before I arrive. Yesterday was like that: you reach a small crest and VOILA! There it is, and you feel like Dorothy running through the poppies towards the Emerald City.

Today my destination was elusive, hiding from me until the very last moment. So every time I thought, "Ah, maybe I'll be able to see it from here …" the answer was, "No. Not yet."

It was during this part of the walk that everything began to feel surreal and dreamlike. I started to wonder if I was really awake, actually doing this thing. And although there was a tiny bit of blue sky way off to my left, it was still grey and drizzly above me.

And that's when I started to experience the sensation of light around me. You're going to say, "Oh, boy! Now she's really lost the plot!" But I swear it felt like a spotlight was above me, making a circle of sunlight just around me. In long pulses. Warm, yellow light.

No, the Virgin did not appear. No one spoke. It was probably just the sky clearing. But it was nonetheless an odd sensation.

We are clearly in the Head Phase here, aren't we. The Third Phase is the spiritual part: that could get really wacky if today is any indication.

So now I'm in this weird bar/hostal place where the bartender/owner is missing some teeth, but not in a Deliverance sort of way. I can hear everything that happens in the bar/kitchen, but that also means the wifi is strong. I ate a salad (if I never see another Spanish tortilla with potatoes it will be too soon), and now I need to figure out how to move photos and video off my phone and onto the iPad as the phone is (again) out of memory. Someone has taken pity on me and turned on the heat (it's freezing in here). So life is good.

Thanks to everyone for all your encouragement. Lots of love from Spain!


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Location:Calzadilla de la Cueza, Spain