Day 15: Atapuerca to Burgos - 20 KM

I was rewarded for rising early today with this beautiful view:

I treated a young Irish lad to breakfast, and in exchange he told me about being 15 and beamed when he described winning a medal for some sport he competed in. We were delighted at the tasty “vegetable sandwiches,” which were suspiciously like chocolate croissants—best veggie sandwich I’ve ever eaten.

People sometimes slow down to chat with me. Today I met Fanny from France who told me that her mother died of cancer when she was 11, so 15 was hard for her because she didn’t have a good role model for how to be a woman and fell in with the wrong crowd. I also talked to Mishka from Hungary about how he met many of his best friends at age 15 but still felt alone.  I also met a woman at a restaurant who was 15 in the late 70s and proudly described a research project she did on AIDS that year.  

When I was 15, I had a gap-toothed teacher named Mr Storms who believed I was a good writer and encouraged me to become a better one. 

It turns out the river route to Burgos was a long stretch of pretty, leafy park, so much better than that horrid other route.

Sometimes people take a day off from walking and call it a “Zero Day.”  Others call it a “Rest Day.”  Pilgrim Jenifer calls it a “Day of Rest,” which sounds sacred and right. That’s what tomorrow is for me.