Why am I doing this Camino? As I entered my third week of walking, I began to question this activity. I was beginning to not enjoy it (hence stopping my blog for a while)
From Villamajor del Montjardin, the gravel road wound up & down gently undulating hills. The weather was splendid & I happily walked on, & on, & on… The next village was 12.5 km away & I walked on… The Beatles song ‘A Long & Winding Road’ started playing in my head but I couldn’t remember the words or even the tune. I started getting fed up. Passing through Los Arcos, I continued nearly 7km more then stopped at Sansol where I gratefully soaked my hurting feet in an ice cold foot bath in the garden whilst having a cold beer. I then ate the worst meal I’ve had to date on the Camino
In this stretch of the
Camino Frances, the villages are some distance from each other. This means walking around 10 or 20 km each day, nothing in between.
The next day, I started walking knowing I had 11km to Viana. My left ankle/ heel (which was always going to be my weak point) started to really hurt. But worst was the touch of food poisoning I had from last night’s meal. Enough to make me want to vomit, but not enough that I could empty my stomach. I limped along at 0km an hour feeling very very sorry for myself. My situation was not helped by a bouncy young Swedish Born-Again Christian introducing himself & trying not only to bring me to Jesus but also explaining various conspiracy theories of his. I managed to politely get rid of him & I continued to trudge towards Viana feeling very unhappy.
Since starting my walk, I’ve been on my own. Except for a couple of days walking from Orisson into Spain, I’ve never had a Camino ‘family’. My walking speed plus my need to only walk about 18kms a day, has meant that I’ve walked alone only meeting people briefly in the evenings – & each evening new people. I’m happy with my own company but was beginning to feel very down.
That night in Viana, I wrote to my virtual Camino family here in the Forum explaining my Achilles Tendinopathy problem & my pain. As I knew they would, they started coming back with good suggestions & well as words of encouragement.
The next day I limped into Logroño (9.2km – again the next village was another 12.5km & it was too much). I stayed at the first albergue (thinking mistakenly that it was the municipal one which could help with podiatrist info). Not only did they not have any info, but I also discovered (much much later) that only about 12 of their 68 beds were taken by pilgrims. When I returned much later I discovered the place packed full of young African males who clearly couldn’t afford anything else. That night I ‘booby trapped’ my little cubicle with my walking poles in case my rucksack went walkabout (my passport, cards & money are kept on my body when I sleep). The part of town I was in was not very salubrious, I didn’t feel at all comfortable. I ate alone & went to bed.
The next day (not having found a podiatrist), I strapped my heel & left. Navarette, the first village, was 12.5km. I soldiered on, still wondering why I was still walking. That night, I decided to get drunk. I bought food & wine from the supermarket & invited the other two pilgrims in the albergue (a young Quebec guy & an older French guy) to join me. We had a great evening & I slept well for the first time in several days.
The following day, I started walking & I realized I was slowly coming out of my funk. My heel will continue to give me problems, but I can handle it (at least for the moment).
So, why am I walking? Why don’t I just jump on a bus & get to Santiago? I’m not sure, but I do know that I want to continue walking.
Buen Camino & Ultreia