We left Rabanal more or less as a group in hopes of getting to the Cruz de Ferro, the Iron Cross that marks the highest point on the Camino, more or less together, for a group photo. In our morning briefing I shared a bit of (perhaps unintentional) wisdom that my father had sent to me in one of our email exchanges the night before: "Enjoy the cross, leave your doubts at the base."
The idea of arriving at the Cruz de Ferro en masse went out the window at the first town, where some folks went on and some took a break. Those that went on ahead agreed to stay put at the cross so we all eventually straggled in. I had hoped to say a few words and lead a prayer before we placed our rocks, but the early arrivals had already left their rocks. So, we did our group photo. Then, I wandered off a ways, sang a verse of "Near the Cross" and thought about all the doubts, fears, and uncertainties I wished to pour in to my rock, which I placed unobtrusively about half way up the giant stone pile at the foot of the cross.
And, you know, though there was a lot to distract me, and it could have been rather anticlimactic...it worked. A few simple, probably random, words from someone I love dearly and whom I consider one of my closest friends, and who, with a lot of work and tears and frustration, and love on his part, AND my mother's, all poured into a little piece of shale I found in my backyard the night before I left. My doubts stayed at the foot of some random cross in Northern Spain, along with those of a thousand years worth of hurting souls who have also have trod the Camino, searching for hope and redemption, just as we have done with our faith and belief in Jesus Christ, and try to do as best we can, daily.
Mom and Dad, thank you. I'm terrible at and inexplicably uncomfortable with expressing emotions, especially love, so though this isn't how it should be done, in writing on an internet blog, it's what I have to offer: I love you both and I am grateful for your presence in my life, and am grateful that you love me too, and have worked so hard to make me who I am.
To the rest of you, my family who are far away, my friends, near and far, close and not-so-close, I think of you often, and yes, I love each if you as well, though I know I almost never say it. To my colleagues and coworkers, I also think of you and am grateful that you're a part of my life and that you made this trip possible for me. Thank you.
To all of you, I hope this trip has made me different, better, and that our relationships will be more rewarding and more genuine, more close, if you're willing. Perhaps this will be my Camino miracle.
Though my doubts and my rock stayed on the mountain, my pack and I did not, so onward we trudged, through some beautiful country and two steep and harrowing descents through the town of Acebo for a lunch break. At this point it was getting very warm, so I trudged on toward Molinaseca with Amy Johnson, and just FYI, we have officially solved all the problems that exist at Pepperdine. Details to follow.
By the time we got to Molinaseca, we were running on fumes (and probably emitting a few from the heat), having covered some 17.5 miles over the mountain in 100 degree heat. An oasis in the form of a Roman bridge and medieval river swimming pool filled with pilgrims and townspeople greeted us and we trudged through town to the albergue, across the street from a luxury hotel. We contemplated the hotel but ultimately decided that we should be good little pilgrims and stay with the kids. The joke was on us; they opted for several local bed and breakfasts and a few splurged on the hotel as well. Nonetheless we dropped our stuff off, checked on everyone, and went to the river for some food and to soak out feet.
No one slept well that night because of heat and snoring. I only slept two hours myself, which made the next days early start interesting.
We breakfasted in Ponferrada, with it's fantastic castle that was the home of the Knights Templar. Several kids stayed behind to see the castle, while Alex was feeling progressively worse, so she stayed behind to catch a bus to Villafranca while the rest of us pressed on.
We stopped for lunch in Cacabelos, whereupon I almost killed Rachel and Amy, my walking companions, as they insisted on finding the perfect spot for lunch. This meant we went about five places before settling on one, after I had taken off my pack in each place. We (they) finally settled on a place that was so close to the road that every time a car went the right side of my face got a clean shave. But it was a good lunch, and I met a pilgrim named Pat who is 83 and has the Camino every year since he was 69, for forgiveness. Wow. What humility.
The last five miles to Villafranca was a struggle for everyone. It was well over 100 again, but we made it. We are in a Parador, though honestly this one is not up to the standard of Leon. I got in a somewhat animated discussion with our server at dinner as she indicated that only one glass of bottled water per person was included in our dinner. When I pointed out that we were pilgrims who had just walked 19 miles and would like to have jugs of tap water at the table, she protested, telling me the tap water was bad. I know better than that, and insult was added to injury when she kept asking if I understood what she was telling me. But, she eventually brought the tap water. I'll admit, for the first time, I did not feel guilty about not tipping in Spain. We'll see how it goes tonight, but I may be talking to my friend Javi, the travel agent, and Parador management, about the service. It hasn't been unbearably awful, but it has been more difficult than it should be in what is supposedly a hospitality industry.
The whole group was at the end of their ropes last night, so we all agreed it would be best to all go to bed and start over today, which we did. I got up and did some work this morning before breakfast and have been sitting on the patio doing more work and grading. There is a reggae music festival in town, of all things, and while I don't care for the music, I may wander over and see what's happening. Tomorrow we climb into Galicia for the final run to Santiago. The heat has broken and we are expecting two days of rain with highs in the 60s. Thank you Lord, and please have mercy on us poor pilgrims and sinners.
Brian, that was your best blog entry yet. It seems the Camino is working it's miracles.
ReplyDeleteBless you and all the students.
Brian, it's Jim McGee. Glad to see the Cruz did it's work, the collective consciousness of all those pilgrims laying down their burdens seems to have made a thin place where God can hear us and speak to us and touch us. The students will remember the Camino all their lives, you organized that for them, now God and the Camino can do the rest. Hope Inez and I can break bread and hear your stories when you return. Buen Camino. Jim.
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