It is hard to stop once you have set a habit. I wonder how I will do when I get home. I’ve been in Castroverde since about 11am; it was a short 9k from Cadavo, but the weather is, well, shitty–sorry, but it is. It is rainy, like constant drizzle, between 52 and 65 degrees, but with wind gusts up to 20 mph. So cold. I’ve worn almost all the clothes I’ve brought at once to keep warm. My pension is warm, but the heat is not on and everything is tile.

I’m hoping this stop that has put me out of synch will help my foot and my foot will thank me with a good walking day tomorrow. 20k to Lugo. A major city and for some a Camino starting point.

So some Spanish girls I met yesterday were going to walk to Lugo today but when I saw them here in Castroverde today they were grabbing a taxi to Lugo, so tempting I have to say. It is an easy and some say boring 20k to Lugo tomorrow, but with the rain and wind, and really no place to stop. Yuck!

However, walking all the way is not something I’m willing to give up on yet. I gave up on Albergue (hostel) stays when I couldn’t reserve them, not wanting to guess whether I would have a room after a long day. (And it is more common on this route to not have a place to stay and have to take a taxi to the next city to stay the night and then taxi back to walk from where you couldn’t get a room the night before. I’ve seen an American couple struggling with this and it has seemed more than a little disorienting.) I have given up on carrying my backpack–until I get to the French route anyway. My foot felt a hundred times better without carrying it, and I still carry about 5 lbs. Once my foot gets a rest I will start carrying it again.  God is teaching me who I am. However, I will not give up on walking the whole damn thing.

I don’t know if I can adequately explain the drive, the call, the push, one feels to get to Santiago. It looms and  drives. And how when you are walking, even if slowly or with pauses, one feels one is at least progressing. 

And then I sit here and think about Maribel and Anna. They work here at Pension Cortes and there’s no one apparently staying here except me–and Ruben. Maybe there’s been 3 people come in all day, and only for a drink or coffee. They aren’t directly on the Camimo so even the odd pilgrim doesn’t wander in.  What do they do with these days?  And how does busy-ness look different to them from what it looks like to me.

Maybe I should talk to them.

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The boss walked in and now it seems odd to talk to them and he doesn’t look like the type to appreciate my witty Spanish banter.

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Boss left. Maribel said they were very busy in August. Since May, during the season, they’ve been very busy. And as if on cue, a gaggle of cold, wet, may be Portuguese women are dropped off by a taxi to take up two rooms.  Maribel agrees with me that it was better that I took a short day than arrive like that.