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.

The Final Countdown

We are down to the last 100km of our trek.  After we left Astorga and the Meseta, the scenery got better (mountains) but the walking got harder (also mountains).  Our trek out of Astorga took us to the town of Foncebadon, which up until a couple of years ago was an all-but-abandoned village just shy of the Cruz de Ferro.  The last six kilometers or so are a big climb, and it was slightly warm, so by the end, I was glad to see the town and our albergue.

We did not stay in Foncebadon two years; we had stayed further down the mountain in Rabanal del Camino, but the Cruz de Ferro is the highest point on the Camino, where we leave our rocks, and based on how difficult it was to coordinate that in 2014, I decided we'd better stay a bit closer.  Great decision;  Foncebadon has experienced a Camino revival and we stayed in a nice albergue with a really kind and genuine hostel owner.

The next morning we headed out early to the Cruz de Ferro.  It's been tradition to bring a rock from home that represents something you want to leave behind on the Camino and place it at the foot of the Cruz de Ferro.  We made it to the cross pretty early and there were some other pilgrims around, but we were able to have a few moments to leave our rocks and then pray as a group, mostly for an end to violence in the world and for our continued safe travels.

The descent from the Cruz de Ferro is NOT fun, but you are rewarded with the town of Molinaseca, which features the prerequisite Roman bridge and, more importantly for us, a section of the river which was turned into a swimming pool sometime in the middle ages by paving the river bottom.  We stopped for a few minutes to soak our tired feet in the cold water; I checked on the students who were having an impromptu pool party and we continued on to Ponferrada.

Ponferrada is an old Templar stronghold and features yet another giant castle.  Ty and I were not particularly looking forward to a night in an albergue, mostly because Ty has been having some trouble with shinsplints, and I had some Marriott points, so we treated ourselves to a nice hotel, then went into town to tour the castle and hang out.

We've met lots of wonderful people; a lot of American teachers, a group of students from Sewanee who are frankly firmly in the "Turegrino" category, and I met a group of Spaniards who were walking from Leon, and seemed impressed at my Spanish.  I'll take the compliment.

After Ponferrada we had another up and down day to the town of Villafranca de Bierzo, walking through vineyards and pastures.  Villafranca is the last big down in Leon before crossing the mountains to Galicia.  Again, I had some points to burn so Ty and I stayed in a Parador and the kids roughed it in an albergue.  Ty put the pools and sauna in the hotel to good use for his leg.

The climb out of Villafranca is rough, but we took it slow and easy.  It ended up being glorious, because this is the first time I've climbed to O Cebreiro and been able to actually see the landscape.  Every other time has been cold and raining.  In fact, I think we've been quite lucky in that we've not had any rain at all, which amazes me.  Galicia, when it's not raining, is fantastic.

We've spent the last two days in Triacastela for our final rest day.  A lot of the kids have expressed an interest in visiting Finisterre, but with only one rest day in Santiago, that's a bit tricky, so we've met as a group and elected to accelerate our walking to carve out an extra day in Santiago.  The Parador in Santiago was amenable to this change, so we will walk approximately 27km from here on out to get to Santiago on Friday.

Both the students and I experiencing this bittersweet section of the trail.  I think we are looking forward to being done with walking, but at the same time lament the end of this experience.  I'm reminded of the analogy that the Camino mirrors our life, and this seems apt.  I've known many elderly friends who, as they approached the end of their lives, were sad to be leave-taking, but anxious to finally lay down their burdens and move on to the next thing.  This seems an apt description for where we are at with the Camino today.

Goodbye to the Meseta

We have made it to the town of Astorga, which in past times was known as Asturica Augusta.  This has been an important spot in Spanish History for the better part of 2,500 years.  As usual, Romans built on a Celtiberian settlement, and remained an important center of commerce during the Visigothic period, the Muslim period, the medieval period, and is today an important gathering point for a number of pilgrimage routes.

More about Astorga later.  We left our posh monastery-hotel in Carrion de los Condes well before the hotel was ready to serve breakfast, but they were kind enough to pack a picnic for us.  The "picnic" turned out to be about 3 lbs of foodstuffs that I was grateful for, but not excited to carry.

The road out of Carrion is tough - you have nearly 11 uninterrupted miles of Roman road.  That's a long way to walk without services.  There is a gentleman with a semi-permanent setup about halfway through; no permanent structure, but a trailer, and he brings supplies out in his van and has tables and chairs set up.  It's not great, but it's definitely a bit of an oasis.  There are a couple of other of these oases that we've run into on the Camino, and they are run on a donation basis as a service to pilgrims.  We are always very appreciative of the kindness displayed towards us strangers.  Unfortunately, this particular gentleman is much more interested in running a business, it would seem.  Several of us had barely put our packs down to take a breather before he was over at our table telling us that we were in a bar and if we wanted to sit, we had to buy something.  This is certainly his prerogative, and I don't think any pilgrim I've met (except for the French ones) would begrudge him earning a living, but this is not exactly killing us with kindness.  As you might imagine his food is overpriced, and when I handed him EUR 1.90 for the Acuarius soft drink he informed me was EUR 1.80, he didn't bother to give me change.  I understand that we don't know people's stories and what they are dealing, but this seems to run pretty contrary to what the Camino is supposed to be about.  So, I prayed for him, drank my soft drink, dusted my boots off and continued on my way.

Our albergue that evening was great and it was nice to relax.  The next day was a long day into the town of Burgo Ranero (Town of the Bullfrogs).  I have yet to have a good experience in Burgo Ranero, so I was somewhat apprehensive.  The kids found a fantastic albergue where, for EUR 12, Ty and I pretty much had a room to ourselves.  The wifi was iffy, but the albergue featured a huge garden with chaise lounges and umbrellas so we sat out all afternoon.  We also found a great little cafe in town where the folks working were so competent and joyful in their work that it was the polar opposite of our experience several days before.

The gentleman running the albergue was a slightly crazy (and less slightly stoned) Italian, who in typical Italian fashion was overly familiar, especially once he figured out I spoke Spanish.  As we were walking out of the albergue after dinner in search of ice cream he patted me on the belly and made a snarky comment about my physical condition.  I just looked at him, and of course Ty was rather amused, "I think he just patted your stomach."  I replied, "yes, and that made me inordinately uncomfortable, but we're in Spain and he's Italian, so it kinda comes with the territory, I suppose."

Our next stop was Mansilla de las Mulas, and by this point I think it was fair to say that we were all looking forward to a rest day in Leon the day after.  Unfortunately, by this point in the trip we had some kids who were dealing with some issues.  Dereck randomly started breaking out in what looked like hives.  Big ones.  Everywhere he had exposed skin.  Sebastian also seemed to have strained his knee, so we were having to help him along a little bit as well.

The walk into Leon was easy, and we had a couple of glorious rest days in the Parador.  We ate good food, and rested, and wandered around Leon, which is another Roman city that was the capital of the Kingdom of Leon until it was merged with the crown of Castile in the 1200s.  There are many Leonese who seem to think that once again Leon should be it's own kingdom.

We were sad to leave Leon, but had a short, hot 12 miles yesterday to the town of Villar de Mazarife.  This town is technically on an "alternative path" of the Camino, but we had such a bad experience in the "official path" town of Villadangos del Paramo that I made the executive decision to try a different route.

Great decision.  Mazarife is a much better town with more albergue options (though one of them is a bit sketchy) and generally happier people.  Unfortunately, summer has caught up with us, and this was our first day of 90+ degrees.  Few albergues are air conditioned, so sleeping last night was a bit of a challenge.

Staying in Mazarife also makes for a very long day into Astorga, which is what we had today.  We walked nearly 20 miles, and left quite early because the high today was projected to be about 96.  We made good time, though Sebastian got lost for 2.5 hours when he took the wrong road (don't worry, we found him), and were in Astorga by around 1:30.

Astorga has about 12,000 people and in ancient times was where several trade routes from western Spain (gold being transported to Roman Gaul, mostly) converged.  It was also important in the Catholic church during the Reconquest of Spain - the Bishop of Astorga was one of the most powerful men in Spain.

We have about 16 miles tomorrow, and we will finally leave the Meseta to begin the climb over the final mountain range into Galicia.  The day after tomorrow we will reach the highest point on the Camino, where we will leave our rocks, symbolizing something from home that we want to leave behind in Spain.  The kids, I think, are beginning to feel their time coming to an end, and they are anxious about that.

Middle of the Meseta

Well, we are mired in the Meseta, that flat, hot, dry part of Spain that gave rise to the saying "In Spain the rain falls mainly on the plain."  We are halfway between Burgos and Leon, staying tonight in an 11th century Monastery just outside the town of Carrion de los Condes.

The walk out of Burgos is much more pleasant than the approach to Burgos, and it was not overly warm but it was quite humid.  Ty and I have taken to walking together (I've nicknamed us the 'Old Guys Rule Delegation') and we wondered on several occasions if we were going to have to make a run for it to avoid a thunderstorm.  Thankfully, the rain held off.  We stayed in the town of Hornillos del Camino, in an albergue I had stayed in two years ago.  The proprietess remembered me and was glad that we had returned.  Unfortunately, most albergues are not air conditioned and this particular one was not set up to take advantage of the cool nights.  Plus we had a candidate for the snoring Olympics amongst us, thus we did not rest overly well.

The next day took us to the town of Castrojeriz, which is a town I happen to like, generally, though I did not care to stay in the municipal albergue again, as we did two years.  The municipal is fine, but it has a bunch of bunkbeds in one room, and when too many people show up they simply throw mattresses on the floor.  So, I found a private albergue that turned out to be pretty nice (no bunk beds), and had a fantastic kitchen, plus a deal with the restaurant around the corner for a special deal on the pilgrim meal.  I do find myself wondering about some of these albergues.  Most of them have some interesting features - suffice to say you can tell that they were definitely reconfigured to house the maximum number of pilgrims with relative comfort.  I often think "I wonder if this is up to code", but ultimately have decided that as long as the place seems well-cared for and clean, I will try not to ask too many inconvenient questions.

Castrojeriz is, like most Spanish towns, an interesting one, with quite a history.  It's most notable feature is an old ruined castle on top of the hill overlooking the town.  It's a medieval Christian castle from 10th century that was captured from the Muslims during the Reconquest.  The 10th century fortress was built on the ruins of a 1st century Roman Fort which was built on the ruins of a Celtiberian 'Castro' or walled village from some time before that.  Now, Castrojeriz mostly caters to pilgrims.

On the way to Castrojeriz you walk through a ruined monastery they've built a road through, that served pilgrims from the 13th century to who knows when.  It's always an interesting thing to me when I see something like that and wonder what the people who built whatever thing I'm looking at and who passed it by over the years would think if they could see the world today, and it makes me wonder what pilgrims 500 or 1000 years from now will think about our time in history?  I find myself hoping that we will acquit ourselves well in the stark lens of hindsight, but given what seems to be going on in the world today, it is hard to be hopeful.

We stayed last night in the town of Fromista.  On the way in, Ty and I chatted with three other American pilgrims, Greg, Joe, and Julie.  It was good to spend the walk with them and I learned that we have many things in common.  This was for me, a godsend, because I have been feeling a bit of homesickness the last few days, odd as that may sound.  While I love this country, and the group of people I'm with couldn't be better, the fact of the matter is that I am still coming up on a month outside of my normal routine and social circles, both at work, and in my personal life.  And while I embrace this opportunity to have a different perspective on my life, and am grateful to be here, the fact of the matter is that my life is pretty good, and I like, and I miss it.  I miss talking regularly with friends, both near and far, I miss binge-watching Netflix, I miss working in the garage and in the yard, and yes, I even miss going in to the office and my colleagues.  So, it was good to have a taste of home.

Fromista is a neat town.  I know that's a shocker.  It has a church (another shocker) that is widely considered the best example of pure Romanesque architecture in Spain.  Again, I did not wish to repeat my experience of two years ago at the Municipal albergue, so we stayed at a private one instead.  Again it was very nice, but it was clear that the proprietors were only interested in running an albergue as a business propisition, and not as a service to pilgrims.  This was a bit disappointing to me because I do believe you can run a profitable business (especially an albergue) and yet still display empathy and interest for and in your customers.

The place we had dinner, however, was a different story.  We had spent the afternoon sitting in the plaza outside the church drinking Sangria in the hot summer sun, which is a very Spanish thing to do, so I wanted to do something different for dinner.  We went back to the place we had my birthday dinner in Fromista on the Camino two years before.  The gal working the bar and who waited on us remembered me and we struck up a great conversation.  She was so excited that I had pictures in my phone of the restaurant from two years before.  I ended up giving her my card, and she said she'd email me.  We'll see...

Tomorrow will likely be a difficult day; it's not overly long (16.5 miles) but the first 11 are broken up only by a guy selling refreshments from the back of a pickup truck.  The good news is that the temperature should drop about 10 degrees tomorrow, so hopefully we will have a good walk just the same.

The Curse of San Juan, Rest Days, and the Meseta

We are coming up on the end of our first long rest break, in the town of Burgos.  It's been an interesting and varied week, and I find myself mentally gearing up for the next stage of our trek: eight flat and possibly hot days to Leon.

We left Logrono relatively late, because our hotels include breakfast in our stay, and it's hard to pass up a breakfast buffet, even if it means delaying your departure and potentially walking in more heat than you would like.

Our first day was a longer one - nearly 18 miles that took us to the town of Najera, which straddles a river.  Najera is an interesting place; the old town, where we stayed is very quaint.  The approach, which takes you through the industrial and modern part of town, is not.  This was the students first exposure to the not-so-picturesque parts of rural Spain and several of them commented on that fact.  I'll admit I heard words like "sketchy" and "shady", which I happened to agree with.  But, true to my role as Director, and General Ambassador of All Things Spanish, I simply replied with the snarky comment that we couldn't all live in uber-attractive parts of the world, whereupon I could see the wheels start to turn.  Evil mission accomplished.

My friend and boss, Paul, left us the next morning to return stateside.  The students and I have missed him, but I have a feeling he will not be sad to miss this next section of the trail.  We stayed that night in the town of Santo Domingo de la Calzada.  The students had a very nice albergue, whereas Ty and I, by virtue of my previous adventures in Spain, stayed in the Parador, which is a 16th century palace, on points I had accumulated.  I will admit, I felt a little guilty about this, at least until I went to bed that night and slept gloriously.

The walk to Santo Domingo takes you through some beautiful fields of wheat, rye, grape, and olive, and, in an odd juxtaposition, a golf course and high-end suburb.  Just outside the golf course as you crest a hill a young-ish man of about 30 had set up a stand where he was handing out fruit and drinks and accepting donations with a sign saying "Unemployment for persons under 30 in Spain is approximately 60%.  I can't get a job, so I am creating my own.  Thanks for your support."  His statistics are accurate, and it's a reminder that even though most of us in the US feel like things are better after the great Recession, Spain, and much of the EU does not enjoy that same sentiment.  I admired his spirit, and desire to not expect someone else to solve his problem, so I overpaid for some very delicious cherries, which are now in season here in Spain.

A further reminder is the suburb, which is all high-end row houses, most of which stand empty, though they are continuing to construct.  This section of the Camino is almost like walking through the set of The Walking Dead.  Eerie.

In Santo Domingo, the students offered to cook dinner for Ty and me, so we joined them in the albergue for a nice meal, which I very much appreciated.  The next day was shorter and took us the very rural bed and breakfast of a couple of friends of ours, Ana, and her daughter Ana.  We met them and stayed with them when I walked the Camino in 2011, and I have returned with each Pepperdine group.  They are very hospitable, and the students seem to enjoy having the whole B&B to ourselves with home-cooked food and a chance to relax.  Ana, the daughter, had just married when I was here two years ago, and I was very surprised to see that she now has an adorable baby boy!

The unfortunate thing about staying with Ana and company is that it makes for a very long day the next day.  The scheduled stop is in a small town called San Juan de Ortega that is in fact a wide spot in the road.  I have historically avoided this town because the only place to stay is a very spartan hostel run by the church/monastery.  It has large dormitories, no connectivity, iffy food, and questionable showers/toilets.  The alternative is to walk another 2.5 miles to the town of Ages, population 80, which has, believe it or not much better services.  The problem is that shooting for Ages makes for a 22 mile day, and even San Juan is 19.5.

So, we decided to make for San Juan, and give it a try, the thought being that though we would have a longer walk into Burgos (15.5 miles instead of 13) it would not be as difficult a day into Burgos because we would not have stretched to 22 miles the day before.

Good theoretical plan.  The walk to San Juan involves crossing a mountain range which was historically the most dangerous part of the Camino, due to bandits, and the last 7 miles is very remote, with no services.  Ty and I walked together, and we were both struggling.  We made it in to San Juan around 3:30, which is pretty late.  But we made it.

And the walk into Burgos was marginally easier, but several of our group started feeling rather poorly, and the approach to Burgos is awful, and you either slog through five miles of industrial park or a never-ending, but at least green and pretty walk along the river.  In transit, you pass the site where the oldest known remains of our human ancestors were found.  Atapuerca, with the remains dating to 1.2 million years ago.  How they know this, I don't know.  This is why I'm an accountant and not a scientist.

Burgos is a town of about 200,000 that straddles the River Arlanzon.  It has the second oldest cathedral in Europe, which is also the second-largest in Spain, being construction beginning in the 1220s.  It also has the ruins of an Arabic castle from the 9th century on top of a hill overlooking the old city.  Burgos was the capital of the old kingdom of Castile until it merged with the kingdom of Leon in the late 1200s.  It a neat town to walk around, eat in outdoor cafes, and generally take a break from walking with a pack.

Unfortunately, about half the group, myself included, have been battling food poisoning while we're here.  Remember what I said about avoiding San Juan?  Well, we're pretty sure that's why.  But at least it has mostly happened while we're in a nice hotel (15th century palace, actually) and have nice beds, and decent meals.  This is in fact part of the Camino too, and while I hate feeling bad, and having students feel bad, I'm rather philosophical about it.

Yesterday was my birthday, and even though I was battling The Curse of San Juan de Ortega, I had a nice day.  In true Spanish tradition, I took people out to lunch, the students were kind enough to get a big card for me that they all signed and a birthday cake at dinner.  It was great.

From here to Leon, the walking gets generally easier physically and harder mentally.  It will be flatter, but not quite the same picturesque landscape we've enjoyed so far.  It will likely be hotter, so we will tend to begin walking earlier in the day whenever possible.  I tell the students this is all part of the preparation for what God will do in our lives spiritually during the last part of the Camino.  For me, though I dread the increased monotony, I look forward to the mental challenge and to what God might have to say that I need to hear.

A Week on the Road, Already?

Well, apparently, I'm a terrible person, because I did not realize a week had passed since I had blogged.

We're now nearly 120 miles into our trek, and it's been a fun few days.  The kids have been doing great.  The weather has been mostly cooperative, though it has started getting warm in the afternoons, and just today, which was a longer day, I discovered that my left leg has a lovely sunburn on it.  As do the the thumb and first finger on my left hand from walking with poles.

Oh, also, everything hurts.  But you probably knew that.

Staying in a hotel in Pamplona was a fantastic idea.  We were just three days into the walk, but I think it gave the students a chance to kind of reset from the hostels and wash off the travel stains of the previous few days.

Pamplona has a lot of history to offer, but also a lot of nightlife and activity.  It was initially the capital of Basque Country and later the capital of the Kingdom of Navarra.  The kingdom was established by Charlemagne as a defensive perimeter against the Muslims, which invaded the Iberian Peninsula in 711 and pushed north to the Pyrenees.  Charlemagne established a frontier called the "Spanish March" and basically told the Duke of each area that they were on their own.  France would leave them alone as long as they defended the border against the evil infidels.

Turns out Basques are sneaky.  Whilst he was dealing with Charlemagne, the guy in charge of Pamplona, a lovely chap named Sancho Garces, was also making a similar deal with Muslim Caliph of Cordoba.  So, basically, he was double-dealing, which is awesome, until someone figures out you're double-dealing (not that I would know).  A few years go by, the Muslims to the south start getting a bit unruly, and Charlemagne decides he has to deal with the situation.  Charlemagne shows up in Pamplona and asks friend Sancho to let his army in.  Sancho politely declines, so logically, Charlemagne camps outside the walls, and tells Sancho he'll deal with him after he finishes opening a can on the Muslims.  I'd like to think that Sancho then flipped Charlemagne the bird, or the medieval equivalent, but I don't really know.

Sure enough, Charlemagne whupped the Moors, and returned to Pamplona.  By this point he was cranky enough and tired enough that he burned the entire city of Pamplona, then continued north back to France.  The Basques were so enraged that they attached his army in the Roncesvalles pass, and Charlemagne's main man, Roland, was killed.  For more details see, "The Song of Roland".

All of this happened around 811AD.  So, recent history.  Kinda like the Brexit.

Enough history.  Suffice to say Pamplona is an interesting town.  Then we had a few shorter days, and continued good weather into Logrono for our first rest day.  The slog into Logrono is a bit long, and I think we were all glad to have a rest day in a nice hotel.

I basically stayed off my feet the whole rest day, only venturing into town to eat and in search of ice cream.  Logrono is a cool town, given that it's the capital of La Rioja, which is wine country here in Spain, but I'll admit, I've been there and done that.  So I sent the kids off in search of Important Historical Facts, and I graded papers and generally caught up on what's going on in the world.

I must admit we've lost a couple of members of our crew and we've added a couple.  Callaghan caught a bus from Logrono to Andorra to check out the situation for his potential Fulbright Scholarship.  We'll miss him.  Paul leaves tomorrow to return back to the States.  It's been a blast to have him along, and I think he might like Spain a bit.  We'll pretend to miss him.  Kidding Paul.  We won't pretend.

We've also met a young man from Scotland who has just graduated from high school and hopes to start and University in the Fall.  His name is Ruaraidh (if you pronounce it 'Rory' you'll be close enough that he probably won't be irreparably offended).  He's blended well with our group, and we're glad to have him along.  Also, a Camino alum, Alex Yip, is back with us again, serving as EMT.  He's had foot trouble, and had to see the doctor today and take the bus.  Prayers on Alex's behalf are greatly appreciated.

Not much else to report, really.  We had a long 18 miles today; tomorrow is a shorter 12.  I may or may not have burned some Parador points to stay in the Parador in the town coming up rather than the large albergue.  Don't judge please!

Second verse, Same as the First

Today was an easier day.  The scheduled start time was 7am, and we had a shorter day; 13.6 miles, compared to nearly 16 yesterday, and with less terrain, although there was still lots of up and down.

It turns out that 7am was wishful thinking on multiple counts.  True to the albergue experience, there was a mass exodus of French and Italian middle-aged pilgrims, not quietly, at 5:30.  The lights came on at 6, our Hospitalera, an older dutch woman named Janine (who I think had a bit of a crush on one of the students, Houston "Goose" Wilson, "lights out is at 10, and if you are not quiet I vill visit you!") came through with an actual cowbell at 6:15 saying, "Gut morning".  I'm sorry, but if there's a cowbell involved, it's not a good morning.  At 6:30 the Gregorian chant started up, so we were all pretty much awake except for Callaghan, who either has really good earplugs, or could sleep through the Rapture.

Unlike my last time in the albergue in Roncesvalles, which was noisy and not restful to say the least.  This time around people were either more well behaved or I was more exhausted because I had no trouble sleeping like the dead all night.

We are not yet into our routine, so it took everyone a while to get ready, thus we left a bit after 7.  It was another beautiful day of walking, we stopped at a grocery store, stocked up and continued on our way.  Apparently, I am slow, as I spent bringing up the rear of the herd with Ty.  We got to chat with some cool people, Tim and his girlfriend (whose name I can't remember.  I blame Sangria.), who are remarkably normal sounding for Canadians, and Sara, who is French, and got mad at her parents, so she decided to walk the Camino.

This is the first night that the students have been "on their own" for lodging.  I cheated a bit, since I have a Spanish cellphone and called ahead to reserve an albergue that I had stayed in the last time.  I really don't like reserving ahead, because it seems against the spirit of the Camino, but at the same time, it sure does relieve the stress of finding a place.  I just really hate talking to Spaniards on the phone.  Actually, I hate talking to anyone on the phone.  I should probably get over that.

Nonetheless, the students did well, and nine of them are lodged in our albergue.  We are having a worship session at 8pm tonight, and a shorter day again tomorrow.  We are staying in Pamplona, and in the interest of not having students scattered all over God's half-acre in albergues, I have reserved a hotel.  I'm looking forward to a real bed and room, even though we've only been in an albergue for two nights.

The walking has been good.  I have not yet solved any of the worlds problems, or even my own but I have given some of them some thought.  I'd like to be a bit more connected to the kids, but it is still early in the trip, so hopefully that will happen as it may.  And finally, I present to you, "Mr. Europe 1965".