Day 11: Azofra to Grañón - 22.4KM

 After coffee with Arlington Lisa and a civilized hotel breakfast, Mi-Suk and I talked and sang through my longest and latest day yet, facing drizzle, sun, and a thunderstorm finale along the way. We saw vineyards, peas, and fields of wheat.  We even saw a scene that looked like that focus thing you do at the eye doctor. 

In San Domingo de la Calzada, we saw the zombie chickens in the Cathedral. 

We carried on late in the day, dragging ourselves to Grañón where we collapsed, wet and exhausted in the best of ways. I think I’ll keep to 18 KM for now! 

Year 11 was an extremely important one for me. I had no trouble remembering and treasuring it as the year that my then-stepfather adopted me and legally chose me as his daughter.  He had been my father already for sometime, but that’s when it became official, and I changed my last name. I can’t possibly express how much his love means to me. Even now after his death, I feel him with me every day, and I know how proud he is of me, particularly on this grand adventure.  

With the name change, came a party at school to celebrate, and I was no longer Bridget R. to differentiate me from my friend Bridget S. Now I was Bridget P.

Shortly thereafter a photographer from the local paper, The Pictorial, took a picture of me riding my dad’s homemade iceboat and published it with my new name in the caption. It hangs on my wall at home. 

Day 10: Ventosa to Azofra - 16.9KM

Today was very nearly a perfect day. I met some wonderful Spaniards at their bar last night and hung out with them again this morning, such kind people.  I woke early and had a coffee and chocolate croissant and laughed with them. 

Then I wandered through the Rioja vineyards alone at sunrise, pausing to take as many pictures as I cared to of this gorgeous region. 

I had plenty of time to make it to Najera, and along the way I caught up with Lisa from Arlington, and we chatted about being 10. She got into heaps of trouble with her cousin for using pencil sharpener shavings to pretend to roll cigarettes. I didn’t have much to say from that year.  I couldn’t even remember my teacher, but I reflected on the importance of my Gifted and Talented teacher throughout elementary school, Mrs Marois, who had a distinctive perfume, wore a light amethyst ring, and encouraged me to love writing and research. When I was younger, I wrote reports on both chocolate and rainbows. My interests have changed little. 

In Najera, I net up with Mi-Suk, my college friend of 30 years who is joining me for a week!  We visited a monastery then walked on to our fancy hotel inn Azofra. We had dinner with Lisa then  we enjoyed a hot tub and a sauna before tucking in. 

Friends, new and old, a stunning solo walk, a bit of history, some self-spoiling. Really, what more can I ask of a day?

Day 9: Logroño to Ventosa - 18.1KM

America’s urban planning is dreadful in comparison to Spain’s.  I spent a beautiful hour this morning walking out of Logroño. There was no sprawl. There was only a big gorgeous park on the edge of the city.  The park culminated in a stunning lake then gave way to miles of picturesque Riojan vineyards.  

The Camino was packed with Americans today—Idaho, Florida, Virginia, Ohio, New York, Arizona, Pennsylvania were all represented.  I met a woman who lives 10 minutes away from me. We walked for a while, but I spent most of the morning conversing with Idahoan Steph. She has bum knees, so I went slowly along with her. A day will come when I want someone to walk with my limping self. The injuries are really catching up to people.  I’m holding steady.  As long as I’m uninjured and score a bottom bunk, I am a happy camper.

Today I talked with people about being 9.  Connor from Cleveland made an igloo.  Henry from Buffalo got two shitzu puppies.  Jay from Philly figured out how to manage dyslexia due to a kind teacher.  Mark the Yinzer pulled a chair away from a girl he had a crush on and gave her a concussion.  She never paid attention to him again.  

I remember that when I was 9, the teacher on lunch duty (Mrs Novak?) made me anxious by insisting that I had to eat everything on my plate.  I think my mom got involved.  

Day 8: Logroño rest day - 0K

This is the first time since arriving on May 3 that I have spent consecutive nights in one place. It feels amazing. I have my own room with a bed.  It has sheets!  There are towels!  I wasn’t sure I wanted to pause walking, but it has been nice.  

I did important errands this morning.  I washed my clothes at a laundromat. I bought duct tape at a hardware store.  Later in the day, I had a decadent lunch, followed by a decadent hot chocolate, followed by a decadent Thai massage.  

I hung out a bit with pilgrims Owen and Sheena today.  We played a new game that I’ve decided to strap to my backpack and play on the Way.  I’m sure it will bring some merriment.  

Unfortunately, that laughing twosome has to take a break from walking due to some plantar fasciitis.  I’ll see them again; I’m sure of it.   

On my eighth Camino day, I pondered being 8 years old. I wondered why my 3rd grade teacher, Mrs Debris, always wore the same houndstooth pants every day.  I also savored the victorious memory of guessing the exact number of jellybeans in the jar.  I was the only kid in the whole school who got it right.  They announced my name over the loudspeaker.  I got to keep the pretty, tall glass jar on my desk all day long and bring it home and eat the jellybeans.  I don’t remember much about what I studied, but I sure do recall that win.

Day 7: Viana to Logroño - 9.7K

When I had just started my morning walk, I heard several people behind me and I stopped to take a photograph in hopes that they would pass me by, but when I paused, four Israeli women in their 60s and 70s greeted me and told me they remembered me from earlier on the Camino and admired me. I asked what that meant, but they didn’t have a clear answer.  

We fell into step together and I was asking them about their seven-year-old selves.  I learned a little about what it was like to grow up in Israel. I told them that when I was 7, I had a teacher named Mrs. Schneider and she was pregnant and I found that fascinating.  I also told them about the time that Derek Hollowedel  barfed during story time. Of my entire seventh year that is one of the things that sticks with me.

We found a rock on the Camino that said BRING THEM HOME in reference to the hostages taken by Hamas.  They found another rock and inscribed BRING THEM HOME NOW with today’s date.

 Today is the day of remembrance in their country; it is called Yom HaZikaron and they stopped at a designated time to pay tribute.  I asked if I could join them.  One woman used her phone to stream a short speech (prayer?) in Hebrew and listen to a siren wail for a minute. We stood in the shade at the side of the Camino together.  I didn’t understand the words being spoken, but I was moved as my new pilgrim friends sobbed at the sound of the siren.

I walked with one of the women for awhile, and she described how hopeless she feels about her country.  She talked about media manipulation and how difficult it is to know what the truth is unless you have been a witness.  I listened to her.  We all parted with hugs and hopes to see each other again on the Camino.

Soon thereafter I had some coffee and read the newspaper in Spanish. I tried to pay attention to the bias in the coverage of the Middle East, even though it was in another language. That was a challenge.

I went to do a couple of errands. I bought one of three English books that was available in a snooty bookstore.  So it looks like I’m reading the Great Gatsby. Nothing like reading an all-American novel while traipsing across Spain. 

I ended up running into Australian Linda, who was glowing after purchasing a dress, an entirely impractical addition to her Camino wardrobe.  Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I soon found myself in a boutique down the street with a Spanish clerk fussing over me and selecting a dress for me, too.  It features birds!  I wore it later on for wine and pintxos with her and laughing Washington Stateonians Owen and Sheena, who presented me with an exciting birthday present of nail clippers!  Over dinner, I tried a no thank you helping of anchovies.  I was proud of myself.

Day 6: Los Arcos to Viana - 18.4K

When I looked at my phone at the end of the day today, I expected to find many photographs reflecting how beautiful the landscape was, but it turned out that it’s all so beautiful that I don’t particularly bother trying to capture it anymore.  

Today’s walk was longer with lots of ups and downs, but I kept checking in with my body and being so pleased to find it feeling strong and confident. I did develop my first blister, which I slapped some Compeed on.

I spent the afternoon watching Spanish people enjoying their Sunday in a small town. I watched twin one year-old girls play in the plaza with their mother running around, trying to herd them.  I watched young people perform in a brass band.  I watched some folks chant and celebrate a football win.  The pace of life seems much slower and more manageable.  

On this sixth day of my Camino, I didn’t have much to think about regarding my sixth year. I remember that Mrs. Bentley was my teacher in first grade. It’s striking that when I ask people about their lives at this young age, they always link it to a teacher’s name. It’s a reminder of how much of an influence teachers can have.  

I’m still moving slowly.  People usually pass me, though some people slow down to chat with me for a little while. I met a nice German man today and bought him a coffee because it was his first day on the Camino.  Here’s a picture of me moving steadily along:

Day 5: Villamayor de Monjardin to Los Arcos - 12.4K

I had planned ahead to moderate my distances in the beginning and let my body adjust to walking so much more than usual, but I’m feeling a little impatient.  This day’s walk was much too short. Funny when walking almost 8 miles seems insufficient, but I arrived here in Los Arcos before noon and just rested in order to nurse my cold. I also used the time to make reservations for places to stay with Mi-Suk when she arrives next week.  

 I had nice conversations with several pilgrims. I’m continuing to think about one year of my life on each day of the walk, and I have been inviting other pilgrims to reflect on that year in their lives, too. So today I shared that at age 5, my parents married, I moved to my childhood home, and I met my best friend. It was a big year. I also thought about my kindergarten teacher Mrs Nord. I recall that she asked me to say the alphabet backwards. Some other pilgrims and I tried doing that.  I think it was easier at age 5. 

I heard all kinds of stories from others about that time in their lives, ranging from getting stabbed in the eye with a splinter to having to share a birthday party with a classmate to leaving a beloved cat behind during a move.  Coincidentally, there is a 5 year old in the albergue where I’m sleeping tonight.  This will be a memorable year for him.  

Conversations here often dive deep quickly. After establishing where we started and where we’re going and sharing a brief update on the status of our feet, we reveal all manner of intimacies. People are good conversationalists—both good listeners and good storytellers.  It’s such a pleasant community. 

Here’s where I sat for much of the day:

Day 4: Estella to Villamayor de Monjardin - 9.1K

Short day today, which was good because I was feeling feverish and sniffly. I had some trouble shaking it off, even when I spotted my favorite Mary Oliver quote in Spanish.

I had the Camino mostly to myself today. I stopped several times. I found myself leftover hungry from not having eaten enough the night before. Before noon I had an orange, a banana, a chocolate croissant, a package of chorizo, some cheese, and three yogurts. 

Very nice tasty shared meal with other pilgrims served by the albergue. Afterwards, I hung out with Sheena and Owen from Washington state, in this beautiful town overlooking the countryside. 

Day 4 meant thinking about being 4. That was the year I met my soon to be father when he showed up with a tiny turtle in his pocket. I learned to read that year. I rode around with my mom in the school bus she was driving. I believe that was the year I wanted to swim to the raft off the beach in Old Saybrook. 

Day 3: Cirauqui to Estella - 14.4K

The highlight of today was visiting Jose Ramón in Lorca. Seventeen years ago he took me in and gave me a private room.  I wrote about him here. I’m sure he doesn’t remember me out of the thousands of tired and grateful pilgrims he has encountered since then. But it was nevertheless fun to reconnect. 

Another beautiful day of walking today with splendid wildflowers decorating the fringes of the path. I’m starting to connect with various pilgrims.  I did laundry with a woman I just met.  Nothing unites strangers like merging dirty underwear!  I was so delighted to find a washing machine and dryer at my hostel.

This is Beth’s last day on the Camino.  It was so nice to kick it off with her!

Today on day 3, I contemplated being 3, the same age that my soon-to-be goddaughter is now.  She remembers exactly what happened last week, but will she remember anything in the long term?  Are my memories from that time real or constructed from photographs and stories?  It’s hard to know  I think my earliest memory is from this age  I don’t think it came from a story.

Day 2: Uterga to Cirauqui - 14.8k

Another stunningly beautiful walk today.  Scotch broom, poppies, vineyards, dancing wheat. So many wildflowers. There was one very steep climb but with fine, sunny but cool walking weather, it was an enjoyable challenge  

I think I have 50 days total to walk—one for each year of my life. So today while walking, I tried thinking about being 2. I don’t have any strong memories from that time. I know what my basic circumstances were. It will get easier to think about particular years as the days pass.  I like thinking about the walking through that lens, though.  My 30th year was my hardest.  I wonder what that day’s walk will look like!

When I was little—not sure exactly what age—someone trained me to rub my legs and proclaim, “I have niiiice legs and cute feet!”  Young people can and should be convinced to like their bodies and brag about them.  I wonder at what age that stops being so straightforward. I get frustrated with my too wide feet and my too big legs. Reminds me of this poem  

Here on the Camino, I have to appreciate my niiice legs and cute feet anew.  I have to celebrate my body for what it can do and also be gentle with myself about what I can’t do.  I’ve been duct taping a couple of hotspots to prevent rubbing.  And due to the combined magic of weight training and physical therapy, I’m feeling pretty strong and unsore overall.  I’ve purposely started with low mileage days so that I can be kind to my feet and body. I am hoping to increase my mileage at some point, probably when my friend Mi-Suk arrives next week. I saw some folks who have not been gentle with their bodies at the beginning, and they are suffering  

I’m surprised and pleased that my feet and my Spanish are holding up equally well.  Due to some lessons online with my Guatemalan Spanish teacher during the pandemic, my conversational Spanish is reasonably strong. I have niiice verbs and cute nouns. Or so I can keep telling myself.  I can chat with barkeeps and pharmacists with ease. It’s one of the many pleasures of being here: interacting with new people in a different language. It feels so magical when words pop out of my mouth that I didn’t even know I knew, such fun to banter with local folks.

First days

 May 2007 - First day of Camino de Santiago in St Jean Pied de Port, France

May 2024 - First day of Camino de Santiago in Pamplona, Spain

Day 1: Pamplona to Uterga - 16.77k+

A more eventful start than I hoped for today!  Just moments after my “first day of school picture” was taken, I noted that my chest strap was missing. Another pilgrim, whom I had scowled at earlier for trying to get away without paying for breakfast, found it on the ground—that’ll teach me to judge.  Beth and I then spent 2 hours going to 4 establishments—one seamstress, one suitcase repair place, and two shoe repair places—until we finally located someone who could fix it.  Pilgrims say there are “Camino angels,” and mine is named Miguel Angel who heroically leather-punched a hole in my backpack. Now my strap works just fine!  We’ll see if I return the backpack to REI anyway…

After scrambling all over Pamplona, we managed to pick up the Camino right outside Miguel Angel’s door..

Gorgeous walk with many wildflowers and waving green grasses.  I was delighted to see the poppies that I remembered so fondly from my last trip. Climbed up a hill and carefully picked our way down a steep, rocky path before arriving just before 5. Yummy dinner now resting in a comfy sleeping bag on a bottom bunk, listening to snorers. 

camino eve: Heeeeere we gooooooo!

We spent much of the day in Pamplona, doing some final errands in preparation for starting the walk tomorrow. The only bulls we saw were stuffed. I bought a small knife and walking sticks since I couldn’t bring either aboard the airplane. I got a tiny notebook to record daily highlights. On an impulse, I bought more toe socks, thinner ones.   

Beth will be with me for 3 days of walking before heading back to Madrid. 

I have an expanse of time from May 7-June 24 to fill with day after day of walking. It’s 665K (413 miles) to Santiago and another 145K (90 miles) to Finisterre.  That means I have 50 days to walk 810K (503 miles), approximately 16K (10 miles) per day.  

I keep thinking about the 4 older Canadian women pilgrims I met in 2007. They were a hoot. And every time they began walking, one of them would sing out: “Heeeeere we gooooooo!”  That’s how I feel right now. Just ready to move forward joyfully and see what happens…

San Sebastián

 A relaxing day in this small, beautiful seaside city. Pizza and spritzes sitting outside. A walk along the beach. A nap while it rained.  How nice to sit under an umbrella in a plaza, sipping sangria and eating burrata salad. Jet lag cured.  Pamplona tomorrow. Walking begins Tuesday!

An auspicious first night

 We stayed across the street from “Bilbao Camina”!

As friend Robyn says while wearing her tiara and Wonder Woman shirt for a half marathon. “If you’re not the fastest, look the awesomest.”  I’m on it. 

Bilbao

It turns out my first steps in Spain were a sprint through the Madrid airport rather than a leisurely stroll. We made our connection to Bilbao with minutes to spare. 

We had a lovely, leisurely walk around Bilbao this evening, visiting the outside of the Frank Gehry designed Guggenheim Museum and enjoying the convivial atmosphere of Saturday night in Casco Viejo.  My Spanish is coming back slowly but surely.

We also saw our first sign for the Camino!  But it’s for the northern route…

off i go!

Seventeen years ago, I shaved my hair into a mohawk, dyed it seven colors, and walked alone on the Camino de Santiago, 500 miles across Spain. When I arrived at the sea, I stripped off my clothes and jumped into the Atlantic Ocean in my birthday suit to celebrate turning 33. Doing the Camino was joyful and empowering, one of the most incredible experiences of my life.

A year ago, I decided I would return to the Camino in celebration of my 50th birthday; I declared to my lumpy self, “I want to meet my 50 year old self and be proud of her.” In preparation, I’ve been taking better care of my body. I am much fitter and stronger than I was a year ago. And that healthy feeling is its own reward, but now I get to go to Spain, too!

I’m ready—I think. My hair is mohawk-ish again and is some kind of pink-orange color that doesn’t occur in nature (though this time there is some gray, too!). I’m ready to stroll slowly among the fields of poppies and savor each step despite the inevitable blisters. This time I even have some friends joining me a few places along The Way.

I hope to swim in the Atlantic again in my birthday suit Maybe I’ll make it all the way to the sea. Maybe I won’t. But I only get to turn 50 once, and I plan to do it with enthusiasm!

I’m thrilled and intimidated all at once. Truly: one step at a time . . .

thanking my stars - 6 days to go

Less than a week to go!  I'm feeling strong and excited, and I've been thinking a lot about the people who are largely responsible for my confidence.

At the end of last summer, I nervously crept into a class at my new gym.  It was called "BODYPUMP."  For real?  I thought.  I'm going to do something called BODYPUMP?  I felt lumpy and weak and intimidated as I looked around the mirrored room at the people with their gear heaped around them.  But then one of the other exercisers set up a station for me and a smiling woman leading the class welcomed me.  A sweaty, exhausting hour later, I had survived.  And then I went back.  And I went back again.  And again.  It turns out that I had lucked into finding not simply a class but a diverse community of kind people led by a brilliantly enthusiastic, quirky, and optimistic fitness professional named Cindy.  The music was terrible (it's not her fault), but with her customary good spirit, she chatted us through the misery and exertion.  I have learned so much from her about my body, about positivity, and about teaching.  She's responsible for a lot of my improved strength and confidence.

By December, I was feeling pretty good, but I had a setback.  My nephew gave me a particularly strong hug, which upset my back.  Desperate to address the pain before getting on a plane to Australia in early January, I made an appointment with a random physical therapist nearby in hopes that he would tape me up and send me on way.  I had no idea what taping meant or entailed, but a friend had suggested that approach to me, and it sounded harmless enough.  And that's how I met Alec, who proceeded to heroically help me feel better despite my concern that he was going to paralyze me with some back cracking voodoo.  I'm pretty sure he unhugged me by prying my ribs away from my spine.  After two healing sessions with him, I headed to Sydney with comparatively minor pain.  When I came back, he helped my back some more, and when I mentioned to him that my knees tended to hurt after a long walk, he had some ideas for how to address that, too.  Over the past several months, with tremendous patience, professionalism, and a bewildering tolerance for my whining, eccentricities, and bad jokes, he has guided my preparations.  With his help, I have targeted weaknesses and pushed my body to get ready, and I feel so much better than I would have if I had tried to train on my own.

Cindy and Alec have been amazing cheerleaders, as has my friend Lynne M., who did her own Camino a couple of years ago.  She has walked miles and miles with me this year.  We've revisited old favorite places and discovered new parts of D.C.  I didn't know her well before this year, but doing long training walks brought us closer.  It has been a delight to spend time together.  Her companionship reminds me of the great pilgrims I have met in the past and helps me anticipate the excellent people I am about to encounter.

Finally, I am so grateful to the many loved ones who live healthy lives and have encouraged me to take care of myself, particularly Bridget, Nathan, Beth, and Rebecca.  Their examples and their daily encouragement have kept me focused and dedicated.  What a lucky person I am to have such support.

plastic pilgrim - 72 days to go

I had an illuminating morning.  After months of hemming and hawing, I think I've decided to pay to have my backpack transported from albergue to albergue instead of carrying it myself.

I went out for a 3.5 mile walk around my neighborhood this morning carrying an 11 pound pack, which is about half the weight of the pack I would be carrying.  It was fine, really.  I had no trouble with the weight.  It was a little bit of a struggle to get the straps just right, but that sorted itself out soon enough.  My biggest "gear" problem was that my leggings were falling down, and I had to hike them up every five minutes.  That's a good lesson to me to wear the pants that I am planning to wear on the Camino as I train.  I also have been testing a new pair of shoes, and I rejected those this morning, too.  They are too flimsy for my heavy frame.  I need something more supportive.  I am getting closer to figuring out which socks I want to wear.  I think the toe sock Injinji liners with the Darn Tough hiking socks over them are the solution.  Much of this morning was a good lesson to practice doing everything just the way I plan to when I am in Spain.

I found myself reflecting on what I want from my days on the Camino.  The answer is that I want to go for a lot of beautiful walks.  I want that feeling of bliss and freedom that comes with moving my body through the countryside and towns all day.  Is it really important to me to carry my own belongings?  No.  It doesn't particularly matter to me.  I think the cost is pretty minimal (maybe 6 Euro per day--have to check) to have someone drive my bag to the next spot where I will lay my head.  It means I am locked into reserving and going to the designated place each day, but that's really okay.  When I was walking before, we called people who had their luggage transported "plastic pilgrims."  I'm happy to embrace that term if it means I get to keep walking.

Part of the project of getting ready for the Camino was to take better care of my body.  And I have been.  I haven't lost as much weight as I would like, but I am much fitter and stronger than I was a year ago.  I'm proud of myself!  I now feel as though it is a doable challenge to walk 10 miles per day for over a month.  That's an amazing thing to be able to say.  It will be hard, but I think I can do it.

Even though I have made progress, I am still quite overweight.  Walking every day with excess poundage on my back will put additional stress on my already overburdened knees and feet.  It will probably result in blisters.  It will definitely result in soreness.  And most importantly, it will likely impede my primary goal of enjoying the walking.  Why in the world would I carry my pack if it means I am going to risk injury that will destroy my trip entirely?

Pilgrims are always talking about the lessons they learn on the Camino.  I guess my lesson here is that taking care of my body requires balance.  Sometimes taking care of myself means pushing it harder; sometimes it means being gentle. 

I'll still pack light and maybe partway through the Camino, when I have gotten stronger, I will feel like carrying my own backpack.  Or maybe not!  

new year - 123 days to go

 Before heading to a New Year's Eve celebration last night, I donned my sparkly party skirt and put on my brand new boots for a little sunset walk around the National Mall.  It was an excellent way to usher out the old year and walk into the new one.