Day 27: O'Cebrerio to Triacastela, 22 km

This morning when I left O'Cebrerio, it was snowing, and I somehow got into my head that as soon as I descended below the clouds, all would be sunny. What I forgot was that a good 10 km of the walk was UP THERE. And for some reason, I also had it in my head that this was going to be a 15 km day, when, in fact, it was practically 22 km.

Big difference.

The snow ruined what I've heard are spectacular views, but I still had very cool views. Sometimes I could barely see 100 meters in front of me, and it was, at times, a bit hard to see the yellow arrows, which was harrowing, but I had my map and I knew there was a pair of pilgrims behind me. Italians, I learned when they passed me, who had done Cacabelos to O'Cebreiro yesterday -- over 37 km -- and the one I talked to said he was paying for it today. No kidding.

I haven't done more than 29 on one day, and that was brutal. I've met a few people who have pushed the distance. An Italian woman I've run across a few times now was heading for Sarria today: over 42 km. There's not enough daylight for me to go that distance even if I could. That's at least an 8 hour day on flat terrain, and there was a L O N G descent into Triacastela.

I can't descend quickly. I'm usually tired when it happens. My knees are screaming, the path surface is often covered with loose gravel, and I'm afraid I'll fall or turn an ankle or worse. So I go slowly.

I thought, before I began this, that it might happen that I'm feeling good and want to go an extra 10 km. But no. I'm convinced that the weight of the backpack adds the feeling of having done an additional 10 km to whatever it is I have done.

Like today, for instance. 22 km is not a bad walk. I've done it a million times. It should be a 4-5 hour project. Today was not even 22 km, and it took me 5.5 hours. That's without any real stops: no potty breaks, no snack breaks. It's too cold and wet to sit down (and precious few benches on which to sit) and nothing was open in any of the villages I passed through. I got water a few times from fountains. But I wasn't hungry (had a nice lunch just now, so don't worry) and nature never called.

Oh, I lied. I did eat two crepes with sugar forced on me by a tiny old lady in Fonfría. She called to me to wait (there was a big dog wandering in the street, and I thought maybe it had something to do with him), and then reappeared with a plate stacked with crepes. She started sprinkling sugar on one and handed it to me, all the while chatting on about how they were homemade and two pilgrims has passed by earlier and did I know if anyone was behind me. It was delicious and she made me take a second one. I gave her 2€, which probably covered her costs for the whole stack, but she was did not hesitate to take it (I think she was expecting a "donativo").

By this point the snow had become rain. The Italians passed me. And I found myself slogging through mud and cow shit.

It's only funny now that I'm clean.

My map indicated a tunnel, so when I saw I was being routed under a road, I didn't hesitate, but clearly I should have. I could see a big Camino sign ON the road, but I was being directed, by rope barricades, under the road. It was clearly a cow route: mud and cow pie slop that covered one of my boots. I kept muttering, "Oh, you have GOT to be kidding!" I thought about taking a picture, but was afraid I might drop my phone.

Of course as soon as I got out of it, I saw that I could have easily just walked over the road and skipped the cow tunnel. But too late. I found a fountain soon after and rinsed a lot of it off my boots, but then had to slog through more cow routes.

I like cows, but they seem to turn everything into rivers of mud and cow shit.

So delighted was I indeed when I arrived at my albergue (Yes! I'm in an albergue! But it's so empty, I have a triple room to myself.) to find they had washing machines. My cow crapped rain pants are now dripping quietly in the bathroom. My BO shirts now smell lovely. I have to hang out by the heater until my fleece dries because I don't have enough clothing to venture into the common area (which is quite cold). But I hear signs of life out there, so maybe this will be a more social evening than I usually have.

Although I had wine at lunch. And a very late lunch. So I could just turn in now (it's 17:15) and be happy until morning.

In any case, tomorrow I arrive in Sarria, which is the point on the Camino Francés where one has to begin -- the minimum -- to receive a compostela (certificate of completion). As the Italian who passed me today put it, "We are so close now, we can SMELL Santiago!"

Hopefully you can't smell me.

And this time next week I should have my compostela and be on a plane home!

Looking forward to seeing everyone, but especially my Home Team. XOXO



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Location:Triacastela, Spain