Arzua and the Crowds

Azzura Leading the Hoards

17 May – A few days ago, a friend that is traveling a few days behind us, asked if the the trails were congested from Sarria onward (due to the 100Km Caminoites). I told him there was no significant change that we could see and that the real season had not started. The next morning we slept in late for my birthday, we had a great room and didn’t want to rush out. It’s then that we saw the Zombie Camino Hoards on the trails. Oh my word, there were groups of groups streaming up the streets like the refugee masses you see on TV. It took my breadth away knowing that I was gong to have to pass each one of those floating backpacks with floppy hats. (Arzua and the Crowds)

What I did not realize was that on the previous day out of Sarria, Ursula and I were leading the horde because we left much earlier than the rest of the pack. I had to write back to my friend to tell him to beware and begin making reservations for the the next few days. Both Ursula and I swore that we’d get back on our normal schedule and beat the horde out the door. Six thirty in the morning on the trail was a wonderful time to have it all to ourselves, again. The horde had arrived, but we were out in front.

Empty Villages

This is still early in the season and the crowds aren’t even close to peak. Though the trail was not quite filled with a moving circus of bantering and ogling gypsies moving at different paces and in different packs, it’s getting there. Again, we were at the head of the pack and when we walked through a small villages I saw a few of the women inhabitants who where caught unaware – they eyed us wearily, and then scuttled off to their homes to close their doors, shutter their windows and escape from the onslaught of Caminoites that was to follow.

I always wondered if anybody every really lived in those shuttered homes, now I know. They’re all in hiding. After seeing the droves of people ambling through their little towns, I can’t say that I blame them. After all, how many times a day can you say ‘Buen Camino’ and still keep a smile?

Crossing the Creek

The fun spot of the day was when we came upon a small creek crossing that was traversed with a stone foot bridge. It wasn’t very high nor very wide and it was covered with moss so as to make it potentially slippery, but it wasn’t. We first sighted a few older American ladies on the foot bridge and thought they were in distress, both of them were on their hands and knees with their more than aged and ample derrières skyward.

We thought one had slipped and the other attempting to help the first. First impressions were wrong again! They actually wanted to cross the bridge this way because……. who the hell knows; fear of slipping, fear of water, fear of life? We caught up with them halfway across and began rendering verbal encouragement to ensure their safe passage across. We wanted them to know we weren’t in a hurry and to take their time, we were more concerned that they made it without falling rather than making it quickly. Besides, we were also a enjoying the site!

They carried on laughing and assisting each other to the far side without injury neither to body nor ego. Ursula and I cheered and clapped for them and were happy for their safe passage and were silently grateful that we wouldn’t have to stick around to fish them out of the creek. It’s easy to laugh at the sight but heart warming to realize that two old ladies were on the Camino making their way across a danger zone in the best way they could, and succeeding where others had not. Today was a fun and easy day along the Way.

Getting Close

We’re positioned well for the final push. Today’s spurt, ~18 miles leaves us with two short runs in the next two days; 13 tomorrow and 10 into Santiago for a very early afternoon arrival on Friday. The contrast between the first couple of weeks on the Camino and the last two days could not be more stark, but it’s all part of the Way. I think the excitement of concluding the trip is beginning to overcome the exhaustion and fatigue.

Those who started in St Jean or Pamplona will die before not making it the rest of the way, one way or the other. They’ll simply push on through sheer will of force and determination, regardless of whatever ails them. Those that started in Sarria are beginning to feel the pains of the road after three long days of walking. The more their feet and muscles hurt, the less they chat and prance around like curious bees. Tomorrow will be quiet on the trail, but I’m sure that Friday’s trail will be jubilant. For good reason. (Arzua and the Crowds)

Hasta.

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