Note Now that we are home, we can fill in thoughts and memories we were not able to share while on the Way. Cruz de Ferro  After visiting the iconic Iron Cross, Mom, a fellow German pilgrim, and I began our descent to the next town. Very quickly we found messages written in pebbles left on the path. We found the typical arrow pointing us in the correct direction; we found positive messages encouraging us to continue and relaying the joy of a visit to the Iron Cross; and we found one word--f***.
I am often struck by how one bad experience or comment taints tens or even hundreds of good experiences or comments. An anonymous pilgrim, who passed before me, had the audacity to rob me of the ability to process the power of the Iron Cross. Four letters distracted me from feeling Mom's hand in mine before we approached the cross symbolic stones in hand. One word redirected my emotion from absorbing the simple power of watching a stranger and a loved one cry at the foot of a cross to harboring anger toward someone I haven't met. But, I couldn't touch the pebbles. Everything inside me wanted to kick the word, return the pebbles to their natural, random order.
Why couldn't I touch the pebbles? I wonder if our right to free speech is so engrained that I cannot hinder another person's right no matter how much offense his words cause. I wonder if I will reach a point when my anger will fuel the courage I need to change someone else's message. I wonder... in silence.
Mom cut my contemplation short when she turned sharply to return to the one word. The German pilgrim and I watched in thick silence as Mom picked up the stones and calmly arranged them into another word. Before she returned to us, I knew there was only one word she could have written
Yesterday as Mom and I fell asleep in anticipation of our longest day of walking, tragedy struck Santiago. We left the city yesterday morning for Finesterra. Fortunately we are ok, but we can see the shock, anger, and hurt of the people whose lives must press forward in spite the pain.
Joy is completing a goal toward which we have been working for four years and some change.
View of Santiago de Compostela cathedral from the terrace outside our hotel room.
Thank you everyone who has read our handful of updates. We have been reading your encouraging comments, and we have been feeling the power of your prayers.
Tomorrow we walk the final 16.5km to Santiago! Unbelievable.
Tuesday we begin the final leg to Finesterre, a walk which will take four days. Saturday we complete our walk from the Pyrenees north-eastern Spanish border to the north-western Atlantic border of...the Earth.
We keep you all in our thoughts and prayers as we have the past
After 25 days of walking, we are taking a break in León. The temperature is reaching 35-40·C each afternoon (about 100-112·F). Moreover, the last 15 days of our first stretch included mileage no less than 12-we cover between 20 and 26km each day.
For weeks, Mom has been walking in socks and Chacos to avoid the painful reoccurrance of blisters on her heels and right big toe. Until this point, we had no luck finding suitable replacement shoes. I have been alternating between my Asolo kicks and Chacos to keep my feet relatively fresh. Fortunately, I have only had some minor blisters.
After much debate, Mom and I decided to stay two days in this beautiful city. The first day we filled with much needed errands, and some breathtaking sightseeing; my body did not feel the benefits of our "zero" day. The second day we have taken easy--touring the Cathedral, washing clothes, and keeping our feet up.
We have about 13 days of walking to reach Santiago de Compostella. If we are lucky, we will be able to also complete another 100km to a city on the coast, Finesterre (End of the Earth).
Brierly, our guide through Spain, has not lead us wrong in any respect. So when his book suggested resting our pride on the shelf and bussing the final 20km into León, we didn´t think twice. Excited to only walk 6km to the bus station, Mom and I slept in and packed our things with leisure. We walking our planned hour and some change, ate breakfast in the town with the bus station, then wandered our way through town. When we reached the far side of town, we double-checked our tiny map for directions to the bus station. Sadly, we had passed the station even by the time we had reached breakfast. On our way back across town, we passed some of our companions who were headed to León by foot. Mom wondered aloud whether the busses were running--it was Sunday afterall. We found a woman in town who assured us the bus station was open 24 hours.
Finally, the bus station greeted our ever more dubious eyes. Sitting at some tables in the shade were our four amigos from Madrid whom we had been seeing on occasion since Burgos. Those four young men were also taking the bus. Mom and I popped inside to consult the schedule--the first bus to León wouldn´t leave until 5:50PM! Even at our pace in the heat, we would make it the remaining 19km to León by foot before the bus pulled out of the station.
That is how a 6km day turned into a 26km day (roughly 3.5mi turn to about about 16mi). By the time we began our long walk, the sun was hot and high in the sky. I had packed enough water to "overhydrate" for 6km, but I didn´t have nearly enough for 26km in the high heat of the afternoon. All these challenges pailed in comparison to the mental shift Mom and I needed to make from planning short mileage to walking long mileage.
Our afternoon hike was a struggle. To combat high heat and low spirits, we took a long break under a bridge. Each of us raised our feet, ate some snacks, and greeted each pilgrim who passed. Since my legs were extended up a wall, I had the rare opportunity to people watch upside-down. Shortly after our break, Mom spotted a fountain in some shade. We stopped again to wet our hats, shirts, faces, hair--almost everything. Mom and I squeeled with the joy of young girls spashing around. I filled up my drywater bottle before heading on our final stretch to the big city.
It was about 3:00 in the afternoon when we spotted a innercity bus stop. Filled with a new sense of energy, I mapped out our bus route to the city center.
Just paces after exiting the bus, Gaudí´s Casa Bonites greeted our weary eyes. And, just before 4:00, we checked into our León University Residence Hall turned Albergue for summer months. We rested in our own room with our own bathroom, thankful, blessed, and exhausted.
--Harmony
In order to celebrate the day abroad, Mom and I are wearing some sort of red hue shirt, khaki or light grey pants, and blue backpacks. We picked up a pack of trail mix flavored like "sweet carolina" and advertised as a taste of America, The bag is the closest thing to a flag I have to fly, so I will see if I can rig it to my backpack.
We might sing the national anthem.
I will be thinking of all you Independence Day Babies and baby-mommas.
God Bless.
--Harmony The closest thing I could find to an American flag.
We have been busy over here!
Yesterday Mom and I completed 25.5k (over 15mi) in the day. And, we have nearly reached the halfway mark of our journey, so nearly 400k (250mi).
The day's hike began with a steep climb--12% grade for 1km. Immediately after the ascent, we walked down for 400m at a 18% grade. As I took my own pace climbing up, I remembered how much I love the challenge of a hill. Mom suprised herself by climbing the whole length without stopping for a sight-seeing break. We celebrated by kicking it in the shade and drinking orange juice before walking down the other side.
The day was hot, in the mid-thirties. The final 6k (about 4mi) to our albergue fell during the hottest part of the day. Somehow and without realizing it, we walked the last stratch in an hour. I am still questioning the numbers glowing from my watch before we began the final six.
We should be in Leon on Sunday--it should be fourty degrees.
We are meeting incredible people to whom I will introduce you over time.
As soon as Brother arrived home from camp, Sister went off to house sit for a coworker.... so the family is still spread out across the world.
While Dad and Sister were home alone, they undertook some home improvement projects. The Father's Day gift card to Lowe's bought enough supplies to get Dad engaged in building a gate for the deck. With Amanda's help, Dad built a beautiful (very professional!!) gate to keep the dogs on the deck. Some design flaws in the initial plan ended up helping create a gate beyond our wildest dreams- it hinges, locks, and is completely removable. We can't wait to stain it. Sister will upload pictures later.
A piece of advice to Mom and Harmony (the math teachers): Although I
Villamayor Monjarín Every once in a while, I can make out the words of the Sculptor as He whispers in my ear. For three days, He has been kneading the clay of my body, He slowly adds clay of the Earth to my shoes, to my clothes. The weight slows my gate and focuses my energy.
This third day He moved from my feet up. As water poured from the sky, my legs became the base for a papier maché sculpture. The Scultpor confidentlt placed saturated strips of paper on my thighs and shins. Layer after layer, He replicated the contours of the long leg muscles. The capillary action of the paper allowed the Sculptor to find every crevice between my hips and the soles of my feet.
For an hour, I carried nearly two extra pounds of water weight. And then, I was dry.
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