Panoramas

Last night I had some very comfortable accommodations. There was even a real oscillating fan in the room. Short of air conditioning, this was fabulous. 

Since I stayed in an Airbnb, there was no set breakfast. I knew I had a long day ahead, so I was up and out the door to grab something from one of the many bakeries open at 6:30 a.m., but I didn't loiter in the neighborhood. It was important to get as much distance in as possible before it warmed up. According to my information, I expected to walk about 18 miles on this day.

Regardless of where I walk, it seems the blisters start to show up within a day or two. Yesterday evening I saw Stephanie with her dog and it was limping a bit. It's a sweet doodle, and I don't know if it was affected by the hot ground or if it was just exhausted from too much distance. I didn't see the two of them today. I hope the puppy recovered well. 

Just as I came out of town, I saw Matise sitting at the entrance to a lumber yard. I jokingly asked him if he’d slept there. Of course, he said no. The problem was that his high top hiking shoes had irritated a bone in his ankle and he couldn't continue wearing them. Since everything he had was in his pack, he slipped on his flip-flops and was determined to get some distance in for his last day.

It's a little funny—Not his injuries, but a coincidence. I've had issues with the baggage transport company because my bag has been slightly overweight. So I transferred one set of walking shoes into my backpack this morning, and I wondered while doing it if they might come in handy for somebody else. It would have been a pleasant surprise if this had worked out for Matise. Unfortunately, he has a smaller foot than I do, and even as I offered him everything in my blister kit, he decided that he would just walk his miles in the slip-ons.

Youth definitely has its advantages. At 24, even in flip-flops, Matise walked faster than I did. We continued together for a while and chatted. Then he planned to finish the day’s walk in solitude so he could have time for reflection. That's one of the protocols when you walk the Camino: You never intrude on somebody's time or space. We all come out here to enjoy the scenery, the camaraderie, and the opportunity to just be by ourselves without distraction.

Shortly after Matise and I split up, I saw a sign offering beverages and food. Check in for my hotel wasn't until 5 p.m., so I decided to stop. The place was actually a working farm, and as a gentleman took me through the garage into a makeshift kitchen, his wife was in the next building making cheese. There wasn't a lot to choose from. I wound up having more pastries and a cafe au lait, because with all the walking I'm doing I'm not concerned about taking in a few extra calories. By the time I left, there were about 10 other walkers getting refreshments at the farm.

It was noticeably cooler this morning and that made walking delightful. The sun stayed hidden behind a cloud deck for a few hours, and every minute that I didn't have to walk under the sun was a gift. Much of the walk was through pine forest. Some of it looked wild while other sections appeared deliberately planted. Along the route there were several stacks of cut trees.

Then the sun came out, but it was still several degrees cooler than yesterday, and mercifully less-challenging hills and terrain. One constant feature while going up or downhill, you can see that in a rainstorm the path becomes a river, and that accounts for all the exposed and tossed stones along the way.

There were sweeping panoramic views from across the valley. At one point I could see a true French chalet off in the distance. I'm not sure that the picture I took does it justice. Even from afar, it looked incredibly majestic. 

The terrain changed several times, from tree-lined paths to sweeping dirt roads to one section that was just perfect. In the heat of the day, shadows of the trees along the smooth trail were delightful, and it was easy to walk. Every time I rounded a bend, I hoped that those conditions would continue. Of course, that changed as well.

More and more faces are looking familiar, even as the crowds thin out the further we get from the starting point. Some people walk a day or two, and some go an enormous distance. The further I go, the fewer people I expect to see on a daily basis.

Because of the extra weight and volume of the shoes I had to take with me in my backpack, I carried less water. So far, on this trail, there is great infrastructure. Cold water and restrooms seem to be set up at regular intervals. I'm told that as long as one of the taps doesn't say "non-potable," it's okay to drink. I won't be taking that chance. 

One of the things I always carry with me is Gatorade powder. Last night in the Airbnb, because I had access to a freezer, I mixed some of it into a bottle to freeze it solid overnight. I was a little more than four hours into the walk when it was completely melted, and still ice cold. I jumped on the opportunity to enjoy the refreshment as soon as I found a place to sit down.

About 15 miles into the walk, I ran into a woman named Andi from Vermont. She works with non-profits on forestry projects and has a great history of travel around the world. I was already counting down the remaining three miles, when she corrected me and told me we had more like five to go. I was hoping she was wrong … Alas, she was not. It's an odd situation when you start doing the countdown to your destination for the day and discover there’s nearly an additional hour to go. I was conscious of having less water in my Camelback, and as we got to the destination village, I ran dry. Tomorrow I'll manage to get more water into my pack and definitely pay more attention to where the water stations are along the way. Luckily, tomorrow is only supposed to be about four hours of walking. We will see if that holds true. 

I arrived at my hotel at 5 p.m., after killing about 40 minutes nursing a beer I couldn't finish. It was obvious other people had checked in long before—a shoe rack by the stairs was already full with other travelers’ footwear.

At the top of the stairs was a communal shower and toilet. I guess I got the executive suite, because I have a private bath and shower. One interesting aspect of travel is dealing with quirks in the plumbing. This one was a little difficult to decipher. It turned out that you set a temperature for the shower and then pushed the knob in. The water would run for 15 seconds before shutting off like a faucet at a public restroom. I got really good, really fast, at continuing to hit the button so that the water never stopped flowing. I called it my own little shower dance. 

Dinner downstairs at the restaurant offered two choices: Eat, or don't eat. This would be my only substantial meal of the day. It really didn't matter what they put on the plate. My normal dietary regimen is thrown out the window when I’m away from bigger towns. I had a plate full of lentils, and then pasta with some meat, and a big slice of cake.

While seated at my table. I looked over and there was a young lady with a blister patch on her foot, like mine. There will be more in the next few days. One of the biggest problems is the waterproof shoes people wear. They really do make great sense for certain situations. But when feet sweat, those shoes trap moisture and skin becomes pruney and prone to blistering. My feet are doing great. It's some muscles in my legs that are a little angry with me right now for putting them through all that hill-climbing yesterday.

The air turned cooler and I dined outside with a delicious breeze. Normally I would wind down for the evening by reading a book … But along with other sundry items, I had to leave books behind to get the weight down in my luggage. I guess I'll be watching Malcolm in the Middle dubbed into French. Some parts are still pretty funny.