I REALLY Should Have Gone To Ibiza

If you've seen the video of me in the snow on Facebook or Instagram you clearly understand the title of this blog post.  It's frigid. Especially for April.  There was a hard freeze overnight on top of the mountain in Cebreiro and storm moved in so we woke to six inches of fresh snow.  Oh rapture.  It was at this point that I decided that maybe I had underpacked a bit after all.  So, I put on my pullover and my sleep shorts and hoped for the best.

At first I was really worried as the street through Cebreiro (yes, the only street) had not been cleared, and it was icy.  We were advised to avoid the official trail Camino and to take the highway instead.  The highway was cleared, and with a good shoulder, so that was a smart move.  And surprisingly, once we were moving for about 15 minutes I was not really cold.  The only challenge was that from time to time the wind would kick up and then it would get too cold.  I had bought a pair of gloves in Cebreiro before we left that morning and I was very glad to have them. 

We have settled in to a fairly normal daily walking routine.  We try to do five or six miles and then take a decent break, another five or six miles and then lunch, and then finish off whatever is left.  At our first break of the day, still in the snow, we were very glad to have a rest, and a cup of coffee, and fresh made croissants.  The second six miles saw us heading downhill, and thankfully, out of the snow, but still with rather cold weather.  We only stopped to rest and for a coke before continuing into Triacastela.

I like Triacastela.  It's a bit run down, but if you know where to go has some charm and good places to eat.  So after we cleaned up and warmed up we went to a little place at the center of town for a bite to eat and the ever necessary foot tonic.  I've been to this particular place before but the staff seemed new, and I was not sure they were old enough to be running a bar.  But, they were super kind and helpful, and over the course of the afternoon, many pilgrims we recognized from the Camino wandered in and we would chat.

One interesting thing that happened was that a middle-aged French couple was having trouble with their accommodations for the next night and they asked our waiter if he could help.  So the waiter got on the phone with the place, and then the cook came out to help too and between the two of them they got everything sorted.  I'd consider that going above and beyond the call of duty, but the French couple didn't even bother to leave a tip.  I know attitudes are different about this, but these people took a good 15 minutes to sort out the problem that wasn't even their problem, so Paul and I tipped the waitrr and thanked him for helping some wayward pilgrims.  We may one day find ourselves in a similar situation and hope for good karma when we do.

In any event we had a nice quiet evening in the pub and went to bed a bit early.  We had a longer walk the next day into Sarria and so needed an earlier start.

I Should Have Gone to Ibiza

Have I mentioned that I love Paradors?  They're generally awesome: often historic in location and style, but refurbished and modern, with fantastic food at less than the price of a Hampton Inn in the States.  I highly recommend them if you are in Spain.  Thus, I was very sad to leave our Parador in Villafranca.  But we had 18 miles to walk and 3,000 feet of mountain to climb into Galicia.

All in all, it went about as well as could be expected.  The first 6 miles went fairly quickly, with it starting to rain just as we stepped in to the local bar to warm up and have a bite to eat.  The temperature was hovering in the upper 30s, and I convinced Paul that maybe a shot of aguardiente was in order to warm us up.  He concurred, and the bartender poured us two shots of the most wonderful tasting elixir I've had in a long time.  Very peppery, with lots of flavor, as opposed to just the taste of rubbing alcohol, which is often what aguardiente tastes like.  Warm is up it did, though Paul's moonshine palate may not be as well developed as mine...his eyes immediately turned red and he started coughing.  I'll also toot my own horn a bit and volunteer that I got to help the bartender translate for a number of other pilgrims.  In fact, we have not stopped yet in a bar or restaurant where I haven't been complemented on my Spanish, though a few of the grumpier barkeep have noted that my Madrid accent is really offputting given the current political environment here in Spain.

The second six miles of the trek proved to be a bit colder and wetter than the first but we continued to make good time.  As I've mentioned before there are significantly fewer pilgrims than in the summer but we continued to meet enough interesting people to keep us entertained. The first I will christen Sir Scrapes-A-Lot.  Sir Scrapes-A-Lot was a blissfully unaware German pilgrim named Carlo whose poles were broken so that no matter how high he lifted them, they scraped on the pavement.  You can imagine the sound that made and I assure you that my tolerance, and Paul's, for that sound was quite low.  We outwalked him as quick as we could.  The second set of pilgrim entertainment was a younger Japanese couple I'll refer to as "The Minions" or in Spanish, "Los Peregrinos Minions".  They had raincovers for their backpacks that were bright yellow, as were their ponchos, which were long enough to give them the appearance of Minions, particularly because their knees, like ours, were not working as well as they should and thus they were wobbling a bit.

Clearly, Paul and I are not least bit judgmental of our fellow walkers, in the least.

We stopped for lunch more or less.at the bottom of the hill in Las Herrerias.  Paul was very quick to suggest that another shot of aguardiente might be necessary to fortify us against the upcoming climb, since it had started to snow.  I did not exactly protest.  Fortunately, the snow passed by the time we finished our lunch and we began our climb to Cebreiro in good weather.

The climb to Cebreiro is tough.  It is rocky, steep, and muddy, but beautiful.  We managed it in about two hours from Las Herrerias, with two rest breaks.  There was lots of snow by the time we reached the top.  We also encountered an elderly pilgrim descending.  He had walked into Santiago a week before, and showed us his Compostela.  He was runn in ng short of money, so he said, but if he could get to the donation-only hostel in Trabadelo, he would be OK, he insisted.  We gave him enough Euros for a cup of coffee and a sandwich, and a hug, and sent him on downhill.  I hope he fared well in the poor weather and will find shelter and food as he needs it.

Somewhere on the way up the first and steepest part of the climb, the rather large blood blister on my left heel, which I have affectionately been referring to as "The Donald" decided to pop.  Thankfully it has. It been as painful as I feared.

I do have to give a shout out to Paul, my traveling companion, for trying to learn Spanish and for not being afraid to use it, even amidst my near-constant uptightcorrecting.  He's also gloriously tolerant of my random history and culture pontificating as we traverse various sections of the path.

Again, another great day on the Camino.  We had our foot tonic, dinner, and chatted with some of the other pilgrims staying in our hotel.  The next day promised to be a short one, on 13 miles.down to Triacastela, but the weather was scheduled to deteriorate further, which indeed it did.

Faster Is Not Always Better

Let me disclaim on the front end and state that I am not the type of Camino Pilgrim who thinks you should get wherever you are going as fast as possible.  On the other hand neither do I believe that one must patronize every potential watering hole along the Way.  I pretty much have one walking speed, about 3.5 miles an hour, and generally want or need to stop every couple of hours.

Yesterday, however, I learned that sometimes you just have to go with it.  Paul and I began our walk out of Ponferrada a bit later than normal as the hotel breakfast didn't start till 730.  One nice thing about walking at the start of the season and having places reserved is that you can be a bit more generous with yourself on the time schedule.  You don't necessarily have to be up at 6 and on the road to beat heat, pilgrims, and to ensure a spot in an albergue.  If a stress-free Camino experience is your thing, I highly recommend it.

At any rate we were both on the struggle bus a bit and stopped after only 3 miles for some coffee and a restroom break.  This helped immensely.  I find that I like the cold weather for walking.  It keeps me more alert and I don't have to worry about overheating.  I do worry about dehydration as you don't seem to feel as thirsty when you're not obviously hot.

Our second stop was some 3 miles later at a winery as we badly needed another break.  To clarify, Paul and I both had Coke and water, but no wine...though at EUR 18 for 15 liters (!) It was tempting.

Whatever they put in the winery water did the trick as we both felt much better by our lunch stop in Cacabelos.  Cacabelos is a town I love to hate because it goes on forever and I got winged by a car there in 2014.  Not my favorite town.  But we found a likely looking lunch spot - and we were not disappointed.  Paul had "one of the best pizzas of my life" and I had a fantastic pilgrim meal of eggs, shrimp, and mushrooms followed by sausage and potatoes and white chocolate cake with caramel frosting for dessert.  And we drank a bottle of wine.  With alarming ease.  Wine is now referred to as Super Concentrated Camino Foot Tonic, as opposed to the merely normal strength Sangria.

The remaining 6 miles to Villafranca went relatively quickly.  We met a Danish couple having foot trouble and Paul gave them his extra roll of tape and I pointed them to their hotel in the Plaza Mayor.  We then ensconced ourselves in our suite in the Parador and did not emerge until dinner, which was in fact up to the usual Parador standards.  I had bacon-wrapped filet.  How could it not be glorious? I also got to introduce Paul to two Spanish delicacies, Serrano Ham served with Honeydew Melon, served as a tapa in this case (it's often a first course in the summer).  He was skeptical, but since I'm always right especially about Spanish things, he tried it, and even commented today on how awesome it was.  I also introduced him to licor de melocotón, an after dinner drink not unlike peach Schnapps, but less obnoxious and more drinkable, because its not German.  He also approved.

All in all a fairly typical, and therefore wonderful,  day on the Camino.

What Goes Up Must Come Down

We laughed a lot today, mostly at each other.  Paul may or may not have laughed at me for using the phrase "that Roman Road crap" to describe an old section of bumpy Roman Road that must be traversed descending from Riego de Ambros to Molinaseca and I may or may not have laughed at him for telling me of his misadventures in France.

We both decided that Paul had enough to drink when he dumped a full glass of Sangria in my lap at dinner.  It was after all his 15th glass.

Today's stage is a tough one.  You climb out of Foncebadon to the Cruz de Ferro, the highest point on the Camino, where its traditional to leave a stone representing something you need to leave behind of yourself.  This we did, and for me at least it was very meaningful.  I'd share with you what I left behind, but those thoughts are for God and myself.

Then you descend, for 12 miles, over often rocky terrain to the medieval town of Molinaseca.  The weather was cold, with some snow and sleet, but surprisingly good walking weather. 

We encountered at several points today a middle-aged French couple who were overly concerned about making sure they were on the right path, so in broken French we assured them they were.  They were sweet people.  Less enjoyable was the still-kind French gentleman we encountered on a rest break in Acebo.  He spoke good English and made all the usual inquiries about where we were from, where we had walked, and was this our first Camino.  He then proceeded to inform me, unprompted, that the pilgrimage route from Paris to St. Jean was "really a much better route than the Spainsh Camino." I smiled in a way I'm sure did not touch my eyes and replied "how interesting." I consider that a win in the self-restraint department.

Nonetheless, after we stumbled into Ponferrada, some 3 miles after Molinaseca, we were beat - 16 hard miles and 2500 feet of descent.  I have two small blisters on my left heel but am otherwise in good shape.

After a brief respite at our hotel (thank you Marriott points), we went to the old part of town as I insisted that Paul tour the Templar Castle while I drank coffee and hot chocolate.  It's an impressive castle, the history of which I've recounted elsewhere.  After dinner, and the afirementioned Sangria-gate, we have returned to our hotel.  Tomorrow is shorter - only 14 miles, with a Parador at the end to welcome us, and weather should not be too much of an issue.  I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep.

Back In The Saddle

It would seem that God has spent the last year forcing me into a mid-life crisis. I always said that I would never be one of those people, and I suppose that would be true, if I didn't try (and often fail) to be open to change and possibilities.  Let me bring you up to speed.

After I finished my last Camino with students in 2016 I came back home and got back into my regular routine.  May 2017 marked my 10th year as Controller and July 2017 was my 40th birthday so I was beginning to feel a bit...restless.  My boss, Paul Lasiter, took an overseas assignment with Pepperdine that summer in our London program so it was my job to hold the fort at home from May to July.  My best friend, Bryan Scott, and I decided to walk part of the Camino in July for our 40th birthdays: we planned to walk from St. Jean to Pamplona and then train to Astorga and walk into Santiago from there.  So, it was shaping up to be an interesting summer.

Probably no surprise, it did turn out to be interesting but not in the way planned.  Paul went to London and all went well at work, thankfully. Bryan and I went to Spain, and as I have often remind people, everyone does the Camino their own way, and every Camino is unique.  Bryan and I did not train as much as we should, and thus we had to rethink our Camino a bit.  We still got to spend two weeks together, which I would not trade for the world, but there was a bit less walking than we originally planned.

I returned from Spain wondering what was next.  I should have kept my thoughts to myself.  Paul came back to work in August and announced he would be resigning as CFO to try some new and different things, so I stepped in to an interim CFO role while we conducted a search for a new permanent CFO.  This included rolling out a new budget process, all the usual board meeting stuff and getting approval and issuing new debt for the University...in the midst of the largest tax reform in 30 years.  I acquitted myself incredibly well, but ultimately did not get the promotion.  It was clear to me that though I loved Pepperdine and it had been my home for many years, it was time to move on.

I have a number of amazing colleagues at JP Morgan and they convinced me that I might be worthy to be part of their team, so I also resigned at Pepperdine to begin what feels like my second career.  I was also able to arrange a three-week break between gigs, and I had planned to be in Spain, so Paul convinced me to walk yet another Camino, even though I had been feeling that with the crowds that have overtaken the Camino in the summers, I had not wanted to do another Camino.

But it's April, so here I am.  April brings a whole other set of challenges for walking even part if the Camino.  Northwestern Spain can still be quite cold in April, and in fact, we will deal with rain and snow almost the whole trip.  I've been training for less than two weeks.  And I may not have enough warm clothing.  But I am here, and it is good.  It seems like a good time to assess the last 20 years and to think about how I want my next 20 years to look.

Paul and I flew into Madrid and spent a few days with one of my best friends, Javi Araque.  Yesterday we took the train to Astorga, and this morning we set out to a little town called Foncebadón, near the highest point on the Camino.  It's about 16 miles, and we were nervous about the walking and the weather.  Fortunately, it was clear today, but cold - around 40 for most of the day.  The walking went well, but yes, everything hurts.  We're staying in an adorable bed and breakfast run by a couple, that is incredibly charming, with good food, laundry, and great Sangria.  We have met very few pilgrins...fewer than 20 today I would say.  But, the solitude has renewed my love for this journey.  We did chat with two Germans (who were stereotypically critical of everything) and one Australian (who was equally stereotypically gregarious) in our lodgings.  They seem like nice people, and are more or less on our schedule.

Tomorrow will be hard, with 16 miles downhill to Ponferrada, with sleet in the forecast, but for now I am content to be here, drinking sangria with my friend and wondering what the future will hold.