Galacia

O Cebreiro

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12 May – This is a tough day to recap in writing, it was so magical it defies my ability to capture it in words. But, I’ll give it shot so I can share the experience.   (O Cebreiro)

Today I glided through a mystical place of closely knitted mountainous valley’s shrouded in mist, and rain and clouds and bubbly brooks that fed ferocious streams, speckled wth all varieties of flowers in bloom. The paths were clear and the vegetation was consumed with a phosphorous green moss that tinted the undersides of the hovering clouds. If ever there were such fantastical creatures as ferries and gnomes, this is where they would choose to live.

Walking though this unique landscape was mesmerizing and thoroughly distracting from the toils and pains of the hike. The rain was non-stop and though the paths were wide open below, the upper elevations steeply inclined with trails covered in fist sized rocks and mud. I’m back in the mountains and it’s vales; I could not be happier. The transition from the Leon region to the Galician could not be more dramatic. 

Tough Day (O Cebreiro)

 Earlier, I was advised that this would be the most difficult day of the Camino because of the distance (~18+ miles) and the incline and the in-climate weather. My feet are better and I was up for it….. After leaving the cement trails that shuttled up against the old main road, we came upon the slog-fest of mud and rocks in an uphill climb. It was elevation over distance. But this proved not to be a problem.

For years I’ve been visiting my beloved mountains of the Austrian Alps and climbing similar rocky paths to find the perfect beer with the more perfect view from the mountain top Huttas. Who knew that years later my long weekends and holidays in the Alps would have proven to be training grounds for today’s Camino climb; I was right at home and invigorated by the effort and rain. You have to love it when a hidden plan comes together; you have too be awed when you posses sufficient wits and the cognition to recognize that a master plan is in effect and your the beneficiary. Today, was, bar none, the most glorious day on the camino. That’s saying a lot.

Surreal Ending (O Cebreiro)

O Cebreiro

The hump ended well, but a little surreal. The upward trail traverses a few aging and derelict villages, the otherworldly feel is prominent. But upon cresting the final hill from out of isolation your cast into a beautiful little stone village swarming with well dressed and polite tourists. Drenched, exhausted and covered in mud you could not feel more out of place. Some of them were curious and pointed out the way that you had just come and a few others asked in their halting English about the hike.

I really couldn’t tell if we caminoites were oddities or admired for our grit and determination in such trying conditions. It didn’t matter, I quickly found my room, a shower and a beer. To top it off, the hostel had a laundry service that washed and dry my nasty cloths and save me the time and energy. I also directed Mr Motrin and Mrs Vino de Tinti to do their best work on my aching muscles. It was a very good day.

Slow or Deliberative?

In moments of passion, indecisiveness and fury my wife often exclaims that I’m slow witted. I usually respond that I’m a deliberative thinker and like to play thoughts out in my mind before committing so I can fully understand all options. Secretly, I’m not convinced that one is not an apt description of the other.

So, now I’ve been walking for over three weeks and have constantly bitched that my feet hurt. I’ve accepted it as the Camino thing, everybody’s feet hurt. However, I also hear of Caminoians who walk and amazing 35-40 kms a day; I bet their feet don’t hurt like mine!

Sometimes you have to relearn lessens already learned and for the slow witted of us, it takes a while. Those of you that read my preparation notes know that I left my walking sticks back home. My reason was because I like them and did not want loose them on the trip; and the reduced weight of leaving them home was appealing. Some of you may conclude that leaving behind a key set of hiking kit for the most demanding hike of one’s life is lunacy. In retrospect, you’d be right. I’ve been walking with a cheap single pole for the past few weeks that I only use during serious ascents or descents.

Most of the time it stays stepped to my pack. Last night I finally broke down and bought a second pole. Today I walked like the dorky fool, with mismatched poles, who clicked along the trail slapping my poles into the cement with each irritating step. I learned to love it. With the right technique, the impact on the soles of my feet was reduced considerably. I was able to maintain an impressive pace without a limp and the pain of spikes being driven into the soles of my feet at every step. It was mesmerizing. I don’t know why I haven’t invested in a proper set of walking sticks rather than a hiking pole in the past. But, once I get home, I’m buying a real set. It makes a difference.

My wife, she already has a proper set: I wonder if this is validation of her special view of me. There’s always much introspection on the Camino. 

Music on the Camino

Normally I don’t walk with my earbuds strapped on with my music cranked. I’d usually prefer to hear the noises around me (while in the country) and left to my own thoughts rather than someone else’s screamed into my skull. Sometimes I’ll put them in just as a signal to other caminoites that I’m not interested in talking to them. I’m usually not. Being a curmudgeon does that to one.

Sometimes some of the Caminoians don’t pick up on the universal walker’s signal and I actually have to turn the tunes on just to ignore them; I normally like walking alone. Today, because the trail abutted on old road, I had buds in and the music on. It was a nice reprieve from car noises and the clickity clicking of the pole walkers nearby (and on this day, my own poles).

If you can get into the mode with the right trail and the right pace then the right music can do wonders for your stamina and speed and morale. While still in the valley, Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody came across the buds and I totally lost presence with my surroundings.  I was in my own head, enjoying the ‘scatamooch, scatamoche’ or what ever the hell Freddy was shouting.

I have no idea how I was moving, but I found I was moving fast and enjoying this miniature ‘out of body experience.’ Later when Puff Daddy rapped to Led Zepplin’s Cashmire (from the Gozilla soundtrack album), I was flying. My heart wasn’t pumping too hard but my pace was on fire. My body was moving totally disconnected from my mind. I’m not sure if I achieved Nirvana….or just a great adrenaline fix. But when Godzilla schrieked his final wail, I was nowhere to be found.

Later, in the hills, Ferry and Gnome Country, with Stanley Myer’s Cavatina strumming through my noggen’, self actualization was just within reach, I was floating; drenched, exhausted and covered in mud, but floating.

Finally, as I was crossing into Galacia a chilled out version of Ave Maria (Schubert’s version) from Cafe Del Mar consumed my head. I wasn’t on the planet, I don’t know where, but I was elsewhere.

The only thing that brought me back was as soon as I passed into the frontiers of Galacia, the sky opened up and the sun shined….for about two minutes. I kid you not, one could not make this shit up – It really happened.

I’m sure all of this is related to an endorphin high, when the body is smoked, but in-tune with the challenge and the mind is no longer needed for the mechanics of humping a pack to do it’s work.

Or, perhaps it’s a signal that I actually ‘experienced’ that I was exactly in the right place, at the right time doing precisely the right thing. Sometimes you just have to listen to the music to see what it has to say you.  

As I repeatedly wrote earlier, it was a very good day.

Hasta

 

 

 

Interesting Links (O Cebreiro)

 

 

 

2 Comments

  1. Another excellent post! Hopefully all of Galicia will impress!

    1. Author

      Greg, it does, and then some. The highly recommended soup really hits the spot after so many anemic ‘pilgrim’s meals’. As usual, your advice and insights on the trip were spot-on. Thanks.

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