On Friday we had what looked to be a pretty tough day. The guidebook indicated our walk would only be 12 K, but would take 4 hours because we would be climbing over 2200 feet. That is a lot of up.
Thursday night before I went to bed I met a young man named Elias--originally from Barcelona but now living in Mexico. I had overheard him talking with another guy about the problems with their legs, and asked if he was having problems. He had been walking for almost 3 weeks and had been fine, but suddenly developed a lot of pain in his calf muscles. I told him about using anti-inflammatories on a regular basis, rather than just when the pain becomes to great, to reduce the inflammation, and he thanked me profoundly and headed off to the farmacia before they closed to buy those wonderful 600-mg ibuprofin capsules they have here. (Thanks again, Lisa!)
So Friday we got up very early, ate breakfast at the albergue (muffins, BiFructa--that odd milk-and-juice combination that is so delicious--and coffee) and started out. Emlyn and Niles always walk a good bit faster than I do in the morning, and Marty began to walk a bit ahead as well. The morning was absolutely glorious, and the first part of the walk was not very steep. Before long I came upon Elias, who told me he was having a lot of pain and wondering if he would be able to make the walk. It´s so hard, sometimes, to figure out whether you should bag it or try to go a little further and see how you feel. The problem is going on to a town that doesn´t have any bus service and deciding you´re doing too much harm to yourself; at that point the only option is an expensive taxi or walking.
I chatted with Elias a bit about taking it slow (which he knows, of course), and asked if he felt comfortable walking by himself when he was feeling so much pain. He assured me he would be fine, so I told him I would hold him in prayer for the pain to ease, and not become so severe that he couldn´t continue. He smiled at me--one of those surprised and pleased ones--and thanked me sincerely. I wished him Buen Camino and walked ahead.
The day consisted of about three steep uphill climbs broken up by villages where things level off a bit for a short distance. I huffed my way up the first climb, and got to La Faba where Marty, Emlyn and Niles were waiting for me to have our regular coffee break. They said, "Guess who we found!" and sitting there with a group of five young women was Jorge. I laughed, greeted them and sat down with a double espresso. As we began chatting, with Jorge introducing me and interpreting (they were all Spanish and didn´t speak much English), he asked if it was all right to tell them what I do. I said sure, and as soon as he said I was a pastor they said, "No!" (That I understood!) Then the questions started....
He told them that I am interested in what young people think about the Church and about God. And boy howdy, were they ready to tell me! They all spoke about being so disgusted with the Church, about how the church only gives you rules and tell you you have to follow them without thinking, and about it doesn´t have anything to do with anyone´s life really but they don´t even seem to realize that. One young woman said, "I don´t believe in God. The Church just tells you lies about what you have to do and what is wrong with you." Another said she had strong faith until she was 10, but she lost her faith when her father died, and she was wondering how she could get it back because she had liked believing in God. They were amazed that we had women pastors, and thought that was just great. I told them a little more about what our church does, and one woman asked how they could get the church in Spain to open up to these new ideas.
At one point one of the women asked a question about my own faith, and I began describing my own faith journey. This set them all back a bit, because I began with my experience of having been attacked and nearly killed almost 30 years ago. I caught poor Jorge off guard; he had to take a breath and gather himself to interpret what I was saying; sometimes I forget how hard my story can be for others to hear, since I´ve been sharing it so long. But we continued on, and I described how, for me, this experience had resulted in my understanding the the amazing revelation of love in Christ is grounded in the idea that the omnipotent, undying God had chosen to go through all of our own dying, so we would never think we had a God who couldn´t understand what our dying is like. They had lots of questions, but the main thing that struck me was that they seemed to have never heard the idea that the death of Jesus is a revelation of the unlimited nature of God´s love--who was willing to die every death we die out of love for us.
It was a great conversation. Once again, I was struck by their hunger to engage at a spiritual level, and the fact that they seemed not to understand the distinction between their problems with some of the actions or teachings of the Church, and their questions about the very existence of God. If they disagreed with the Church, then for them, God isn´t real.
They were also blown away to learn that our congregation is Open and Affirming, and that our denomination has opened itself to allowing congregations to bless life-long, same-gender unions, and that we had celebrated a union at my congregation just before I left for the Camino. Jorge told me later that two of the women are lesbians; they were just amazed that there could possibly be a Christian community that would not immediately tell them they were going to hell.
We all continued the walk together (my family had long since walked ahead), and continued chatting. We stopped for several pictures--which they insisted I be in. (I got lots of hugs that morning!) We passed Elias again, and when I asked how he was doing he said, "The pain and I have made friends!" He felt he was goinig to make it, and I told him I was very glad but I wouldn´t stop praying.
After the next steep climb we stopped again, for the village specialty at the cafe in La Laguna. This was queso con mielo--cheese with honey. It´s a soft cheese, locally made, about the consistency of cream cheese, served with locally-produced honey drizzled over the top. Delicious! We sat together and visited with some other peregrinos we met at the cafe, then set out to finish the last leg to O Cebreiro.
As we were heading up that last slope, it occured to me that, for the first time since I could remember, I was pretty much walking without pain. I coudn´t remember when the last time I had done that had been; I was really resonating with Elias´ statement about making friends with the pain! It was such an amazing joy to share the company of Jorge and these young women, traveling and stopping whenever we felt like it, and not thinking about my shin or my foot every step. When we got to O Cebreiro, I could hardly believe that what was supposed to be one of the hardest days had been--once again--one of my best.
Marty, Emlyn and Niles were waiting for me--and had been for quite a while, since we were really taking it slow. (Hence the no pain, I suppose--duh!) O Cebreiro is at 1330 meters, and the views from around there are absolutely stunning. Which has resulted in the town becoming quite the tourist town--too much so for our taste, actually. Sine we were all feeling much better than we thought we would, we decided to continue about another 7 K to Hospital de la Condesa, where there was an albergue with 20 beds. We weren´t sure that they wouldn´t be full, but decided to shoot for it anyway. It was a pretty easy walk, and there were plenty of beds open when we got there.
This albergue had been totally redone, with a very slick, contemporary feel. The kitchen was gorgeous--stainless steel appliances, very modern, cherry cabinets--it looked like something out of a kitchen design catalog from the States. Unfortunately, the town was so small there was one cafe and no grocery store--so there was absolutely no way we could buy anything to actually cook in the kitchen. No wonder it still looked so nice! (A lot of the albergues have received money to upgrade in prep for this festival year, evidently.)
We spent the evening playing cards, hanging out at the cafe, and relaxing.
Today, July 24, we slept in again until 6:00, then headed out for the 14 K walk to Triacastela. This was also supposed to be a hard day, since we were going town the same 2200 feet. The sunrise was absolutely beautiful, and it was a great early morning walk again. We found a cafe for croissants and coffee a couple of K out, which definitly helped my energy level. Then, at the next town, we stumbled across Jorge and Raphaela (we didn´t see Raphaela the day before until we all got to O Cebreiro). We all continued to walk together, and again spent the morning chatting, laughing, and comparing Camino experiences--and as always, the time just flew past. They were planning on meeting Sara at Triacastela and then all going on together, but we had decided to stay here. The rest of our days should be fairly easy, and we´ll still probably arrive in Santiago on the 30th, which we hope will give us a day to relax, maybe bus to Finis Terre, and do a little sightseeing.
We´re all feeling pretty good, although I´m covered in bites that I fear might be bed bugs. No one else seems to have them. I do get really severe reactions even to mosquito bites, and the flies here are plentious and fierce, so I suppose it could be that. But I´m paying to have all my bedding and clothing washed, and sprayed my pack and hung it out in the sun, in the hopes that I can at least not itch quite so much tomorrow. The red welts on my neck are truly impressive.
So that catches me up. Again, every day brings blessings I didn´t expect, and all kinds of beauty, and wonderful friends. Maybe, just maybe, I´m getting the hang of this....
Blessings and peace....
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