Camino Foot
I woke up for my first day on the trail this morning with a mixed set of priorities. I wanted to get out as early as possible to beat as much heat as I could. But the total day’s distance was only about 15 miles, and there would be no point in arriving at my destination too early, since they don't allow check-in until 3:30 in the afternoon. So as the church bells tolled for the end of mass at 8 a.m., just like they did yesterday when I attended, I stepped out the door of my lodging slightly ahead of the pack leaving church.
There was still a sizable group of people on the village sidewalks as we made our way across limited traffic and up the hill out of town. It was immediately obvious that there would be no way to beat the heat today. By the time I crested the hill out of town, my heart was beating pretty rapidly.
Looking back from that vantage point, the town of Le Puy-en-Val looked almost magical. I got to use my French language skills by exchanging "bonjour" with everyone who passed. It got a little old within the first 30 minutes because there were just too many people.
Within the first hour, the crowd began to thin out due to different hiking speeds. There were already a few rest stops where people were grabbing an extra cup of coffee or replenishing water bottles at public fountains.
It was a little tough to engage in conversation along the trail this first day. Some of it was my limited French language skill, but mostly it was because groups of four and five people walking together had no need or desire to speak with a stranger. It was nice to see families walking with small children singing French songs as they made their way down the path.
Around seven miles into the walk. I made my first stop. There was a public restroom in a small community and potable water for people to refill bottles. I remember it was exactly 10 a.m., because the church bells chimed just as I arrived. I took this opportunity to apply some sunscreen. People around me were already turning into walking lobsters.
From that point on it was mostly farmland and pasture. Nothing overly impressive except for the panoramic views afforded by walking along the hill crests. The trail varied from paved to dirt, to cobblestones about 8 inches wide with weeds dragging along my calves on either side as they moved forward. It was definitely a day to wear shorts, and I was happy none of the weeds had briars.
A curving road, on which I saw no more than four cars during 40 minutes of walking, passed by an old church where volunteers beckoned people in for inspiration, and to stamp credentials to prove they traveled the path. I'm bringing my credentials with me this time and getting all kinds of different stamps, but it's just for a keepsake. This would be the document I've already presented twice in Santiago to receive the certificate of completion.
I took the opportunity to take a seat in the shade, drink some more liquids, and remove my shoes and socks to keep my feet dry and blister free. It's then that I saw, even on the first day, I already had a Camino foot. The line where my sock began and ended could not be more clearly defined. It's only going to get more obvious as the days pass.
While seated there, I met a young lady who was traveling with her dog. Her name is Stephanie and she's from Brussels. The dog was panting heavily and Stephanie was doing everything she could to keep the animal cool. She named the dog after a Belgian beer brand—if I heard her correctly it is Karmeliet. Stephanie, if you read this and I got it wrong, please send me a correction.
It was great that she had little booties for the dog's feet. She said the dog didn't originally take to them. So many surfaces were steaming hot as the temperature rose into the mid '90s, I can't imagine how the animal might have suffered without them.
I walked alone again for a bit, and then a young gentleman named Matise caught up with me and we started chatting. He's got a career change taking him to Mauritius for a year under a contract with this company. Big changes in his life, and he's got four days to sort out some things. I told him it's a great opportunity to do some serious thinking when you walk these paths alone. We stayed together as we descended into our destination town. He shared that the trekking poles he was using actually belonged to his grandmother. I think that's an incredible thing to pass down through the generations. Since Matise had grown up on a farm, he was also very helpful in identifying what was being cultivated on either side of the trail as we moved along.
The path was a little treacherous as we made the descent. Rocks were strewn everywhere, and it was obvious where all the water would channel in a rainstorm. Coincidentally, it was about this time we heard thunder approaching. Luckily, the rain never got to us.
Even with the delay in starting and a couple of stops along the way, I arrived in town almost an hour before the hotel would open. Matise and I found a little cafe, and a cold beer has rarely tasted as good as those first few sips. We picked a spot in the shade to take off our shoes and backpacks and relax.
Shortly after 3:30, we split up. He went to his gite and I went to my hotel no more than a minute away. These are not big towns.
My room was ready and my bag had already arrived, maybe a bit lighter than usual. I’d received a notice from the transport company that it was overweight, and I had to make adjustments or they wouldn't be able to continue to carry it. I usually bring along a few things that I don't really need under the heading of “just in case.” Well, all of that is gone now so that I could fall within the maximum weight limit. I'm sure I'll survive without the excess baggage.
Arriving in my room—which is about twice the size of the room from the night before, but still lacking any type of air conditioning—I went into my Camino mode of operation. Step one: Wash clothes so they have plenty of time to dry. Step two: Wash me because I am a stinky mess. Step three (the best step of all): A nap.
They opened the dining room about 20 minutes ago. After dinner, I’ll get into the routine of preparing for tomorrow’s departure. Mostly that involves getting everything packed away in an orderly fashion and familiarizing myself a little bit with the route. As a rule, I don't generally read too much into what I can anticipate seeing the next day. I like the surprise of seeing something unexpected. I also enjoy remaining ignorant of any terrain challenges until I actually have to face them.
Tomorrow is only about 9 or 10 miles of walking, and it should be a little bit cooler. It was still 95 degrees out when we arrived in town today. Since it’s a shorter walk, I plan to linger longer at a couple of rest stops so I don't arrive too early at the next lodging.
