Distance walked: 19.5km
Descent: Approx. 600m
My night in Acebo passed off uneventfully. Up there, some 1,110m above sea level, the air was crisp and damp, and I burrowed into my sleeping bag to keep warm. I was glad to have the loan of an extra wool blanket. It never occurred to me that the blanket might have had mites or tics from the previous pilgrim(s) so in retrospect, I was also glad that it had no hidden surprises!
I’ll admit, my memory of the day’s terrain is a little hazy. Some of that is due to the passing of time. Some of that is because I was trying to stay warm on a rocky descent into a cold landscape. This meant I looked down at my feet more so than at the sky and horizon. But separately, most of the haziness is because I happened upon Peter and Jeanne from the U.K., and I fell into happy conversation and step with them.
We had mutual Camino friends in common – people we’d met only days and weeks before – and we’d heard lots about each other. Most of it was good 😉
After the previous evening in Acebo, and the hypocrisy of pilgrims who said one thing and did another, I was feeling a bit disillusioned with the Camino and humanity.
This wasn’t the first time: I’d been upset by the pilgrims who’d left pools of water on the bathroom floors, and the pilgrims who’d shouted loud English at restaurant waiting staff. I had expected my fellow pilgrims to behave better but I was upsetting myself in the process. So, I asked Peter for his advice.
Peter had walked the first half of the Camino Francés some twenty years earlier. He confirmed what everyone else said: things had changed. Yes, there were more (and better) facilities now. The coffee stops were closer together. The navigation was much easier. And there were a lot more people – not all of them sensitive to the landscape or culture in which they walked. I felt relieved and heartened to hear him confirm all of this. Without realizing it, I had nursed a certain vision of what the Camino looked and felt like, all based on:
- Reports from friends, some 10-15 years earlier
- The many photos I’d seen of solitary pilgrims in wide open landscapes, looking entirely at ease
- The fact that I was walking in the off-season of September and October
*My* experience of the camino was often at odds to what I thought it would be, or should be. I found it immensely difficult to feel open-hearted and generous when there were so many jackasses about.
And yet, Peter gently pointed out that unless I spoke up at the time, there was no way of changing the events, people, or outcome of the previous evening. He was right. And since I had no way of going back in time and doing things differently, I’d have to just let it go.
His words were a balm on my agitated heart!
Quite literally, I felt the stress and tension melt away, and I felt an inner lightness again. I stopped getting so wound up about these strangers and found a way to continue on with renewed optimism. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I continue to lean on Peter’s words and wisdom to this day.
Meeting Peter & Jeanne, and sharing conversation with them was the absolute highlight. Their animated and gracious company made the walking easier and the time go faster. Later, Peter kindly treated me to coffee just the way I like it, which was a second highlight. In almost a month of walking, I hadn’t been able to convey to anyone just how I wanted my coffee so for him to breeze in with his superior language skills and make it look so easy – well, what a joy! We ate cake, took photos with friends, and eventually parted ways. I wanted to walk on to Ponferrada, so I waved them goodbye and hoped to meet them again.
By the time I arrived in Ponferrada late in the afternoon, it had already been raining for hours. The sky was heavy with even more rain, and it looked like a grim evening for the laundry. My shoes and socks were soaked through. My rain gear was wet and even my sweater and t-shirt underneath were soaked in patches. It wasn’t a good way to end the day but I was glad to get a bed in the hostel. At least it wasn’t all full up.
The hostel slept 174 pilgrims, most of them dripping wet. The queue for the shower was more than an hour long….and unsuprisingly, there were pools of water all over the floor! After, I queued to use a tumble dryer for my clothes but after 90 minutes, I gave up. They were “booked” for another three hours and I didn’t have the energy to stay up all night waiting for them. I hung my clothes on an indoor clothes line and went to bed feeling achy and cold. And just to top it off, I ended up sharing my small dormitory with some of the same personalities I’d seen in Acebo the previous evening. What luck!
Would I “speak up” at this late stage or would I keep to myself? I didn’t know what to do but decided to try and get an early night of it: hopefully the weather would be better in the morning and I could start afresh.