Sunrises to Santiago: Searching for Purpose on the Camino de Santiago (22 page)

My
mind starts to think about our dinner conversation from last night.
Why is it so hard to live in the moment? I tend always to focus on my
next project or goal. This drives me crazy, but it is so hard to
stop. If I only made more money. If I could only have more time to do
things like this. If only I didn
’
t
get injured a few days ago. If only … . During a break, I glance
at our map to get our bearings and see a quote I needed to hear:
“The
foolish man seeks happiness in the distance; the wise man grows it
under his feet.” —
J.R. Oppenheimer.

The
trees seem to sway with approval as I read the words. I think about
my injury a few days ago and the lessons I am trying to put into
practice. It is not about comparing yourself to others. It is not
about the destination. It is most definitely not about what could
have been if my body didn
’
t
break. When there are literally no people around for me to compare
myself to, it seems an easier lesson to learn. A sudden joy bubbles
up from my chest turning itself into a smile. I think I might be
getting the hang of this.

We
continue on, making our way up, up, and finally above the trees and
the clouds. The views today are spectacular and make it well worth
walking through the Galician rain. As the hours pass, each trail
looks like the cover of a meditation self-help book. I expect a
troll, hobbit, or fairy to jump out from behind a moss covered log at
anytime.

I
am enjoying the solitude as much as possible because we are about to
pass through Sarria. This is where the trail will become crowded.
Sarria
is the starting place for pilgrims who are short on time but want to
receive the C
ompostela
(the official paper that says you have completed the Camino de
Santiago) once they arrive in Santiago de Compostela. The minimum
requirement to receive the C
ompostela
is
100 kilometers
by
foot, or 200 kilometers by bike.
²
Busloads of tourists are dropped off in this city, which is the first
that meets the 100 kilometer walking requirement. We have heard that
the number of pilgrims will increase exponentially after Sarria, and
the trail can sometimes turn into a walking traffic jam
.

Trying
to avoid the crowds, Amy and I strategize and plan on staying in the
villages just past or before the main stops listed in most
guidebooks. The albergues are packed in these big cities, so avoiding
the masses can relieve the crowd shock many pilgrims experience at
this point. Because we have already spent a large portion of our
budget on several hotels, luxury is not an option. The budget has
suffered enough.

“
If
we ever do this again,” I tell Amy, “we should bring a light two
person tent!”

“
Only
if you carry it!” she jokes.

A
small number of pilgrims do bring tents with them and instead of
fighting for a bed and cramming into the network of albergues all
along the Way, they stop next to the trail to set up camp. They
simply throw up their tent and enjoy the silence, free of charge. The
path of the Camino de Santiago aligns with The Milky Way and lying on
your back outside of your tent, one can enjoy the 300 billion stars
that shine overhead in an incredible cosmic scene. There is minimal
light pollution to dim your celestial show. Some choose to walk at
night for this very reason. The trail lit by stars.

We
pass
quickly
through the streets of Sarria and make our way to Barbadelo. I do
notice a slight change in the number of people on the trail, but it
is not significant. As we rest on a log, a family of four passes by.
They clearly have started their journey today, and their packs are
gigantic. The kids are around seven and eight years old, and I can
only imagine the multitude of extra things mom and dad must have to
carry. They wear the excitement of a fresh new adventure and
enthusiastically yell to us, “Buen Camino!!” as they pass.

“
They
smell good,” Amy observes after they are gone.

“
I
know!” I reply. “I noticed that too! They smell like fresh
laundry and soap.” I sniff at my shirt.

“
I
wonder what we smell like to them?” Amy laughs.

“
Let
’
s
just say if we met that family on the street in our current state
anywhere else but on this trail, they might lock their car doors.”
I am only half joking while staring at weeks worth of toothpaste
stains on my one long sleeve shirt. I need to stop brushing my teeth
in the dark.

We
eventually check into another Xunta Albergue, the only one for miles,
which is run by the government of Galicia
.
Despite
our plan to avoid the crowds, as we approach Barbadelo, I see a line
of pilgrims waiting to get a bed. This is the first albergue line we
have experienced so far, but luckily we do end up getting a bed.
These places are dirt cheap, this one only 5 euros per night and
popular
because
of it. Several people are turned away after we check in. The albergue
is completely full. We head upstairs, and my mood instantly sours.

All
of the bunk beds are pushed together with little space in between. As
we enter the room, we squeeze by people to find a bunk. This can
’
t
be up to fire code, that is for sure. We are stuffed in the room like
clowns in a tiny car. There is a group of young guys listening to
some loud talk radio show not giving a damn that there are 30 others
packed into the room. We try to take showers, and they are ice cold.
Guys and girls shower in the same room as well which makes it
interesting for Amy.

By
bedtime I put my earplugs in and lie on my side ready for sleep. I
find a large bearded man snoring right in front of my face. His bunk
might as well be considered the same bed as mine. I can almost smell
what he had for dinner, his breath making waves in the room. He has
done nothing wrong, but still I despise him. I want nothing more than
to be anywhere but here lying next to him and the other 30 people in
this small room.

My
claustrophobia is ironic as I shared a room with my mom until I
graduated from high school. We had a bunk bed. I slept on the top
bunk and she slept on the bottom. You would think I would be used to
not having my own space. After our short time living in a tent, my
mom was able to find a small place for us to live. This was before
tiny houses were a phenomenon worth websites and documentaries about
living with less. Before it was in style. But we lived in a tiny
house. It was a home, with a roof, a wood burning stove and a small
space for a bunk bed. You would think I could get used to these
albergues.

Our
25th day on the trail promises the largest crowds yet. But not before
a peaceful morning trek. We get an early start, and the sun
’
s
rays are spectacular this morning as we walk during yet another
sunrise. The golden orange light cuts through the trees highlighted
by the mist to form dozens of individual sunbeams. The sound of our
walking sticks is absorbed by the clouds. The feeling
of
seclusion and peace is incredibly calming. In this setting, I
couldn
’
t
stress myself out if I tried.

All
along the Camino de Santiago we have noticed creative entrepreneurs
who set up little food stands in locations that have particularly
large gaps between villages. This morning, we decide to stop at one
for the first time. Outside of an old stone barn, in the
middle
of nowhere, we see a nice looking woman who has hot coffee, fruit,
and snacks. It is
donativo,
or pay what you want.

“
Buenos
días!
”
the woman greets us with a warm smile. She is wearing a thick
colorful wool sweater, rubber rain boots, jeans, and has sparkling
blue eyes.

We
grab two coffees and decide to rest and chat while drinking from tiny
plastic cups
.
Maria
is from Italy and moved to Galicia recently. Another Camino
transplant. We tell her about our journey so far, my injuries, and
the people we have met. She is one of those people you just click
with and has a vibrant soul.

“
We
are from Colorado,
”
I
say sitting on a big moss covered rock next to the barn. A heard of
sheep starts to pass us slowly.

“
Colorado!
”
She
exclaims!
“
My
brother lives in Colorado! He works on a pumpkin farm in Loveland. Do
you know it?
”
I
smile in acknowledgment.

“
My
mom lives in Loveland! Small world,
”
I
reply.

The
sheepherder strolls up to our location following her sheep. She says
something to Maria in the local Galician language, which I can
’
t
follow. They exchange a laugh, and then shepherd and sheep continue
up the trail.

“
There
is a school group coming,
”
she
turns back to us explaining with a frown. I hear them before I can
see them. A small rumble of conversation grows.

A
s
if on cue, a massive group of 90+ high school and middle school
students rounds the corner and descends on this little food stand
like a swarm of locusts on a field of corn. Many taking advantage of
the
donativo
and donate nothing. They all want a stamp for their Camino passports,
and I watch Maria scramble to stamp a constant stream of papers with
her unique Camino stamp.

Despite
my efforts to be in a zen-like open-minded state on this trip, I find
myself incredibly annoyed. The teachers finally come up behind the
large group and offer a buen Camino. I frown. This is not the first
school group I have seen on the Way, and each time, I have been
equally annoyed at the chaotic interruption to my peaceful days.

When
you are walking for religious purposes, to get over the death of a
loved one, to discover the meaning of life, or for whatever the
reason, when this pack walks around the corner with techno music
blaring from cell phone speakers, it tends to piss you off. I am
enraged at the treatment of Maria and her stand.

My
wife Amy is a school psychologist and loves kids, so I turn to her to
see if I am just being an unreasonable jerk.

“
I
know this is not my trail, not even close, but why the hell would you
choose the Camino de Santiago as your school field trip?
”
I
ask annoyed. Amy shoots me a look to say be quiet.

“
Oh
they speak Spanish and I hope they can hear me!
”
I say, my volume increasing.

“
It
is a historical trail,” Amy replies. “A UNESCO World Heritage
Site. I know it is annoying but I am sure the teachers are just
trying to bring a local history lesson to life.”

The
crowd finally passes completely, and Maria is clearly a bit rattled.
I would be, too, if my pay what you want business model was just
devoured by a mob. I ask her what she thinks of this.

“
This
is a new phenomenon on the Camino de Santiago,
”
s
he
replies.
“
You
never used to see school groups, and many locals think it is another
way of turning this sacred trail into a tourist attraction.
Especially when there are so many other amazing hikes in Spain that
would work for a field trip.
”
I
nod in agreement.