< Norte Day 29 — Norte Day 31 > < Norte Index >
19 kilometers, 5 hours, passing through Burres, A Calle, Salceda, Brea, and Santa Irene.
And boy do they change.
I’ve been in bad moods before, so I know what they feel like. Getting homesick and sick of creaky bunk beds and snoring people before this day, it was time to go home. News from the States about another damn wildfire near my home gnawed at me every day. This day’s updates from home only made me angrier.
That morning we walked the short distance back to the Camino path from the Albergue to see dozens of pilgrims in the first ten minutes. Ugh! A week ago, in Navia, that night’s host, Aurelio, said that on the Camino del Norte in October, there are twenty-five pilgrims per thirty kilometers and on the Camino Frances, which started here in Arzúa, there are 500 per thirty kilometers. On the Norte, I talked with most everyone that I came across. Here, on the Frances, in my state at the mind, I didn’t want to talk with any of them. I passed them or they passed me. I walked.
I don’t like being sullen. Maybe writing about it would exorcise the demon. But I wanted to go home. One more day on the trail, then the journey home. I wished . . . Well, you know what they say about wishing.
We were getting word from others in our Camino family who were finishing in Santiago: Stephan, from France; Jody, from Australia; Max and his son Tanel, also from France, had all finished and sent pictures of themselves in front of the old gothic cathedral.
For another lovely day, the route was mostly dirt track through beautiful forests and pasture lands, only a few drops of rain. But the many pilgrims, ugh. I should have been pleased to see that more and more people were experiencing the Camino de Santiago. I needed to change my thoughts, change my attitude. Buen Camino.
