Week 5: Camino Santiago de Compostela
Well into the Camino I started noticing the different stages you push both your body and mind through over time.
And then Week 5… when you’re done focusing on ‘you’, the concentration is somehow entirely shifted outwards. Or at least, in my case. This week I felt like I was a silent audience of a varied palette of all sorts and types of human beings, observing them at a distance like some kind of uncanny homo-sapiens-safari. Where I normally enjoy seizing the focal point of social crowds, turning myself into the extraverted and sometimes rather loud centre of attention (I’m a Leo), I got exceptionally addicted to the self-chosen solitude and quietness the Camino can bring in low season. I simply didn’t want to belong or participate in any collective schemes for a bit, but obtained this clear vision of distinction when it comes to social roles, patterns, loop movements and cause-and-effects different categories of humans consciously and unconsciously act out to reach or self-sabotage certain micro- or macro-goals. No judgment, purely observative. Man… upon completion I could become some life coach or obtain some other millennial hipster guru’ish title... the Camino is squeezing it out of me!
- Week 1 is all about learning about your body and its capabilities: Its strengths, but most definitely also its weaknesses. There’s a lot of suffering going in during this process of adjustment… no need to train for the Camino, this first week will put you right in place!
- Week 2 is about habituation. The Camino becomes routine life now, like it’s a totally normal thing to get up before sunrise every morning and push some 25-35KM out of your poor little legs on a daily basis. Your blisters turn into protection layers, the tiredness vanishes, making place for renewed turbo-energy: you’re a pilgrim now!
- Week 3, also known as ‘The Meseta’, is focused on internal work. Save all your trauma-processing, problem-solving and brain-prioritization for this emotional rollercoaster of timespan!
- Then Week 4 brings total mental silence and inner peace… you dealt with all your shit, you’ve got your life figured out again, your body feels like that of some super-power-being. You’re in the here and now, and man, that’s all where you want to be!
And then Week 5… when you’re done focusing on ‘you’, the concentration is somehow entirely shifted outwards. Or at least, in my case. This week I felt like I was a silent audience of a varied palette of all sorts and types of human beings, observing them at a distance like some kind of uncanny homo-sapiens-safari. Where I normally enjoy seizing the focal point of social crowds, turning myself into the extraverted and sometimes rather loud centre of attention (I’m a Leo), I got exceptionally addicted to the self-chosen solitude and quietness the Camino can bring in low season. I simply didn’t want to belong or participate in any collective schemes for a bit, but obtained this clear vision of distinction when it comes to social roles, patterns, loop movements and cause-and-effects different categories of humans consciously and unconsciously act out to reach or self-sabotage certain micro- or macro-goals. No judgment, purely observative. Man… upon completion I could become some life coach or obtain some other millennial hipster guru’ish title... the Camino is squeezing it out of me!
25: Ponferrada – Villafranca de Bierzo
I granted myself another break in Ponferrada. I generally click better with smaller towns and villages in more natural settings, like for example Molinaseca I passed 10KM earlier, but you ain’t find no Couchsurfers there. Cities are simply where people come together, and in Couchsurfing-context I’m always keen to make an exception socialize-wise. I was lucky enough to be hosted by Laura (Lithuanian), Pablo (Spanish) and their cat Simon (Siamese), during their very first nights in their brand-new apartment*. What particularly fascinated me about this lovely couple, besides their YouTube travel channel and fierce passion for bonsai trees, is their ability to maintain a healthy relationship for 11 years straight (and counting). I just served myself this parade of boyfriends over the years, as I always felt that every life phase demands different requirements in a partner, which is most easily solved by some fresh blood… but looking at them, the alternative doesn’t seem all that bad either. Teach me this obscure magical trick of adapting without sacrificing!
*Crazy fact: a fucking-3-bedroom-apartment costs only 18,000 bucks in total here… in my country you can’t even get a shed for parking your bicycle for that money – is this life’s way of telling me I should simply settle down in Spain, right along the Camino?
I granted myself another break in Ponferrada. I generally click better with smaller towns and villages in more natural settings, like for example Molinaseca I passed 10KM earlier, but you ain’t find no Couchsurfers there. Cities are simply where people come together, and in Couchsurfing-context I’m always keen to make an exception socialize-wise. I was lucky enough to be hosted by Laura (Lithuanian), Pablo (Spanish) and their cat Simon (Siamese), during their very first nights in their brand-new apartment*. What particularly fascinated me about this lovely couple, besides their YouTube travel channel and fierce passion for bonsai trees, is their ability to maintain a healthy relationship for 11 years straight (and counting). I just served myself this parade of boyfriends over the years, as I always felt that every life phase demands different requirements in a partner, which is most easily solved by some fresh blood… but looking at them, the alternative doesn’t seem all that bad either. Teach me this obscure magical trick of adapting without sacrificing!
*Crazy fact: a fucking-3-bedroom-apartment costs only 18,000 bucks in total here… in my country you can’t even get a shed for parking your bicycle for that money – is this life’s way of telling me I should simply settle down in Spain, right along the Camino?
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Ponferrada itself, situated in the valley of the mountain range I had just pushed myself out of (in downright emergency weather), is rather pleasing on its own. With a massive ‘Templar Order’ castle at its historical heart, it’s easy to guess what the city marketing campaign is focused on. In fact, the 16,000m² castle, as well as the entire city, was donated to the Templars by Ferdinand II of León, due to their efforts of protecting the pilgrims passing through this area on their way to Santiago de Compostela… although they sadly could only enjoy this privilege for a lousy 20 years, after which the order was disbanded and their properties confiscated. Nevertheless, an interesting stop en-route!
Way too late (as usual) I marched out of this city, complicating my long trek ahead with an abundant 4kg low-priced vegan-food-supply (last Lidl in 5 days of countryside) and an insane amount of rain pouring right over my face. Yes, I soon learned the hard way why Galicia is so damn green.
Way too late (as usual) I marched out of this city, complicating my long trek ahead with an abundant 4kg low-priced vegan-food-supply (last Lidl in 5 days of countryside) and an insane amount of rain pouring right over my face. Yes, I soon learned the hard way why Galicia is so damn green.
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That said, once it stops raining for a wee second (which happens every so-many-days), the landscape just glows. Stunning stretches of autumn’s red-orange-yellow wetly glistering in unexpected sunrays, more than once accompanied by an actual full-on rainbow… that’s just Galicia’s way of making it up to you. Just, wow. What the hell Spain, how can you be this undecipherable beautiful?! My brain can’t capture this, so I just made photos every 2 steps along the way in the hope my eyes will somehow be able to process all of this splendour at a later point in time.
Night spent in: Couchsurfing (Ponferrada)
Night spent in: San Nicolas El Real - Privado (Villafranca del Bierzo)
26: Villafranca de Bierzo – Herrerias (alternative route)
A rainy yet rewarding day was terminated in a cold but cosy lodging… in fact, because the albergue municipal was (luckily) closed in November, I instead stayed in the most prominent building of the wonderful town called Villafranca de Bierzo: the historical monastery of San Nicolas El Real. Bonus points: It wasn’t run by the religious herds, it now even had a bar inside of it. Thank the Lawd for that, A-to-the-men! While I somehow arranged that 4 Italian men were cooking my dinner, the hostel owner kept filling my wine glass… The same hostel owner who couldn’t give 2 flying fucks if I’d leave the dormitory 3 hours after check-out time or not, and instead invited me over for more coffee while the cleaning maid was yelling at me. It’s pretty convenient being a solo female traveller, I can tell you that, really smooths out the journey.
Night spent in: Couchsurfing (Ponferrada)
Night spent in: San Nicolas El Real - Privado (Villafranca del Bierzo)
26: Villafranca de Bierzo – Herrerias (alternative route)
A rainy yet rewarding day was terminated in a cold but cosy lodging… in fact, because the albergue municipal was (luckily) closed in November, I instead stayed in the most prominent building of the wonderful town called Villafranca de Bierzo: the historical monastery of San Nicolas El Real. Bonus points: It wasn’t run by the religious herds, it now even had a bar inside of it. Thank the Lawd for that, A-to-the-men! While I somehow arranged that 4 Italian men were cooking my dinner, the hostel owner kept filling my wine glass… The same hostel owner who couldn’t give 2 flying fucks if I’d leave the dormitory 3 hours after check-out time or not, and instead invited me over for more coffee while the cleaning maid was yelling at me. It’s pretty convenient being a solo female traveller, I can tell you that, really smooths out the journey.
My eye spied another detour on the menu, so as usual I greedily grabbed this generally greener opportunity straight by the balls, even if that would add about 1/3 to the daily hiking distance. The alternative would be a well-trafficked motorway, so it’s [in Limp-Bizkit-voice] “my way or the highway”. I love how the Camino keeps rewarding me with spectacular mountain ranges lately, as since the Pyrenées the ascends had been quite mild… Coming from an entirely flat country below sea level, I get completely high on mountains. I’ll trade a 100 of the world’s most breath-taking beaches and coolest metropolises for just 1 single mountain adventure, if given the chance.
Be aware, locals have tried to remove the signage towards the alternative route and wrote down it’s “inaccessible” (100% bullcrap)… someone wrote down why, so I took the liberty to truthfully answer “because they want you to spend money in their villages”.
The sad fact described in the photo caption - commercial side-effects of the Camino often triumphing over your enjoyment of the trails - becomes painfully evident in Galicia. Even though Galicians are widely known for their overall friendliness and hospitality, my personal experience taught me that this is primarily the case for those that have zero economical interests in the Camino. I met the most amazing locals here and even established the foundations of some early friendships, but never in the bars, shops and especially private albergues along the Galician Camino. I’ve seen people charging pilgrims 3 euros to charge their phone for 10 minutes and 2 bucks for a small cookie with their coffee, a bartender dragging a tired hiker out of the bathroom because she didn’t buy a drink first, and private hostels refusing to turn on the heating while it’s -3 outside, while they charged literally 2.5 times the price of a bed compared to elsewhere on the Camino. Also this evening, when after 30KM of freezing cold and non-stop pouring rain I exhausted checked into an albergue and paid for my goddamn bed, the owner threatened to turn off the heating if I not also bought his overpriced dinner and breakfast. Even when I explained I had a very heavy bag of already-bought food with me, they advertised with a public kitchen and I was trying to save every penny for a food program benefiting impoverished children of Honduras, he simply replied with an “I don’t care what happens in the rest of the world, my only concern is my own wallet.” A true man of faith! I said it once and I’m gonna say it again: There’s only one God on the Camino, and that’s profit. Even more so in Galicia, the most-traversed stretch where all Caminos come together.
I rather forced another 5 painful kilometres out of my legs than in any way benefiting a man like that. So Herrerias it was.
Don’t stay in: Pequeño Potala - Privado (Ruitelán)
Instead stay in: Albergue Herrerias Miriam - Privado (which is downright fantastic - and vegan)
The sad fact described in the photo caption - commercial side-effects of the Camino often triumphing over your enjoyment of the trails - becomes painfully evident in Galicia. Even though Galicians are widely known for their overall friendliness and hospitality, my personal experience taught me that this is primarily the case for those that have zero economical interests in the Camino. I met the most amazing locals here and even established the foundations of some early friendships, but never in the bars, shops and especially private albergues along the Galician Camino. I’ve seen people charging pilgrims 3 euros to charge their phone for 10 minutes and 2 bucks for a small cookie with their coffee, a bartender dragging a tired hiker out of the bathroom because she didn’t buy a drink first, and private hostels refusing to turn on the heating while it’s -3 outside, while they charged literally 2.5 times the price of a bed compared to elsewhere on the Camino. Also this evening, when after 30KM of freezing cold and non-stop pouring rain I exhausted checked into an albergue and paid for my goddamn bed, the owner threatened to turn off the heating if I not also bought his overpriced dinner and breakfast. Even when I explained I had a very heavy bag of already-bought food with me, they advertised with a public kitchen and I was trying to save every penny for a food program benefiting impoverished children of Honduras, he simply replied with an “I don’t care what happens in the rest of the world, my only concern is my own wallet.” A true man of faith! I said it once and I’m gonna say it again: There’s only one God on the Camino, and that’s profit. Even more so in Galicia, the most-traversed stretch where all Caminos come together.
I rather forced another 5 painful kilometres out of my legs than in any way benefiting a man like that. So Herrerias it was.
Don’t stay in: Pequeño Potala - Privado (Ruitelán)
Instead stay in: Albergue Herrerias Miriam - Privado (which is downright fantastic - and vegan)
27: Herrerias – Alto do Poio
One lesson I learned this day is that you should never complain. Either fix it or shut up and deal with it, as it can always get worse. Rain, I’m referring to the rain… You see, you think you’re such a warrior walking through hardcore cloudbursts and thunderstorms for a week… but then it starts hailing… and then, oh boy, then it starts SNOWING. Yes! My god! I’m in a Mediterranean country and I got caught in a bloody SNOWSTORM. What the actual fuck, Spain?
So bad, that I was actually followed by a camera crew from Spanish National TV during my attempts of conquering the mountain tops of O'Cebreiro.
One lesson I learned this day is that you should never complain. Either fix it or shut up and deal with it, as it can always get worse. Rain, I’m referring to the rain… You see, you think you’re such a warrior walking through hardcore cloudbursts and thunderstorms for a week… but then it starts hailing… and then, oh boy, then it starts SNOWING. Yes! My god! I’m in a Mediterranean country and I got caught in a bloody SNOWSTORM. What the actual fuck, Spain?
So bad, that I was actually followed by a camera crew from Spanish National TV during my attempts of conquering the mountain tops of O'Cebreiro.
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Yeah yeah, it’s all very pretty from behind your laptop screen, scrolling through the photos in the warmth of your home with a nice cup of coffee… but the reality of walking through it while a horizontal snow storm blasts straight into your eyes, while all your layers are slowly soaking (incl. your gloves and once-goretex-shoes that are now completely worn out after 5 weeks of non-stop hiking), while you’re wondering if you have to eventually cut off the black dead pieces of meat off your face just like that Everest-movie… that’s far from enjoyable, bro. Snow is generally nice after it has fallen, and you can go sleigh riding and make cool Instagram-photos and shit… this day I was just repeating the mantra “where’s that damned hostel – where’s that damned hostel” while I awkwardly tried to plough my sopping shoes through the slippery freezing substance. My hair and eyelashes had turned into actual ice, my ass balanced in between some blueish-purple colour palette.
Then again, I do appreciate the Camino’s efforts to grant me literally 4 seasons in only a couple of weeks. I’ve walked shirtless, and with 5 thermals.
Night spent in: Albergue del Puerto - Privado (chosen because it’s way cheaper and quieter than O’Cebreiro)
Then again, I do appreciate the Camino’s efforts to grant me literally 4 seasons in only a couple of weeks. I’ve walked shirtless, and with 5 thermals.
Night spent in: Albergue del Puerto - Privado (chosen because it’s way cheaper and quieter than O’Cebreiro)
28: Alto do Poio – Samos (alternative route)
When I tried to push open the door of the dormitory (that I had entirely to myself) the next morning, I had to push aside about 40cm of snow with it. It was that the cold had woke me right up and I knew I couldn’t possibly be dreaming, but it was hard to process this extremely bizarre sight. Seriously, if you had told me I had accidentally been teleported to Scandinavia overnight that would be a more likely scenario to believe. I was staring at a scene straight out of a cheesy Christmas CD-cover. In Spain!
“Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful…” Very much indeed. It’s a pretty excruciating thought while enjoying a warm breakfast in front of a cosy fireplace to have the absolute obligation to literally traverse an icy blizzard as soon as you put down that cup of coffee. There’s simply no way around it, it’s the only way out (without cheating – I’ll rather saw off both of my feet before taking a bus or taxi on the Camino, it’s all part of the journey, no matter how rough). I had decided to take the +12KM detour via Samos to make sure I’ll be in lower elevations soon and get the hell out of that snowstorm (also: the donativo-albergue is a welcome change in expensive Galicia). Where I normally avoid the highways like some highly toxic disease, now I actually had to abandon the trails to walk to Triacastela along that awful freeway, embellished with fluorescent arm bands and signalling headlamps as thick mist made trucks just show up out of nowhere… simply because neither the trails nor the signs were visible anymore. People have died like this on these very walking tracks: Never play games with the mountains because they always win.
I basically ran 18KM to finally arrive in the valley… with an entirely new appreciation for the rain.
When I tried to push open the door of the dormitory (that I had entirely to myself) the next morning, I had to push aside about 40cm of snow with it. It was that the cold had woke me right up and I knew I couldn’t possibly be dreaming, but it was hard to process this extremely bizarre sight. Seriously, if you had told me I had accidentally been teleported to Scandinavia overnight that would be a more likely scenario to believe. I was staring at a scene straight out of a cheesy Christmas CD-cover. In Spain!
“Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful…” Very much indeed. It’s a pretty excruciating thought while enjoying a warm breakfast in front of a cosy fireplace to have the absolute obligation to literally traverse an icy blizzard as soon as you put down that cup of coffee. There’s simply no way around it, it’s the only way out (without cheating – I’ll rather saw off both of my feet before taking a bus or taxi on the Camino, it’s all part of the journey, no matter how rough). I had decided to take the +12KM detour via Samos to make sure I’ll be in lower elevations soon and get the hell out of that snowstorm (also: the donativo-albergue is a welcome change in expensive Galicia). Where I normally avoid the highways like some highly toxic disease, now I actually had to abandon the trails to walk to Triacastela along that awful freeway, embellished with fluorescent arm bands and signalling headlamps as thick mist made trucks just show up out of nowhere… simply because neither the trails nor the signs were visible anymore. People have died like this on these very walking tracks: Never play games with the mountains because they always win.
I basically ran 18KM to finally arrive in the valley… with an entirely new appreciation for the rain.
The part from Triacastela towards Samos was a downright fairy-tale (once you pass the highway-part). I hadn’t quite figured out if I was actually on a Game of Thrones movie set or walking through some actual existing stretch of nature that had magically developed into this divine piece of medieval picturesqueness somehow. This is how the original pilgrims must have felt when the Camino-scene had just recently kicked off. These uneven slate-stone walls, moss creeping into all of its cracks, dripping willow trees deeply bowing over the trails, their roots woven in between the stones and streams… rickety-rackety houses leaning unbalanced onto one another, the watermills slushing under its foundations…This middle-ages-borough-meets-enchanted-forest-vibe, especially with the terrible weather, reminded me almost of the hilly countryside of England.
And to then sleep in THIS ↓ (can you believe it?!), that just tops it off. I might start farting rainbows if this is how we move forward.
Night spent in: Monasterio de Samos - Convento (donativo)
And to then sleep in THIS ↓ (can you believe it?!), that just tops it off. I might start farting rainbows if this is how we move forward.
Night spent in: Monasterio de Samos - Convento (donativo)
Yeah, I slept inside of this monastery. All humble without heating and shit, which sucks if literally every piece of clothing is soaked to the thread… but hey, I slept in HERE!
29: Samos – Ferreiros (alternative route)
When I woke up and quite cheerfully concluded I didn’t freeze to death, I swiftly put my damp clothes on with a smile and stormed right into the downpour again. Ha you can’t get me, I’m already drenched, one step ahead of you rain! I shortly paused in Sarria, the only place with a coffeeshop open over the stretch of 15KM. Many walkers kick off in Sarria, as that’s about the absolute minimum you could walk (about 5 days) to still be all cool with that sought-after Santiago credential… and boy, can you notice. Not only did the prices peak even higher wherever that’s logically possible, also the trails become wider and better paved, as to give way to a herd of elephants. Not today though, in off-season under the pouring rain I was devouring the tracks solo. Without a single moment of dryness I reached Ferreiros, a spot in the absolute middle of nowhere about 100KM away from Santiago.
Am I really almost there?
Night spent in: Xunta Ferreiros.
29: Samos – Ferreiros (alternative route)
When I woke up and quite cheerfully concluded I didn’t freeze to death, I swiftly put my damp clothes on with a smile and stormed right into the downpour again. Ha you can’t get me, I’m already drenched, one step ahead of you rain! I shortly paused in Sarria, the only place with a coffeeshop open over the stretch of 15KM. Many walkers kick off in Sarria, as that’s about the absolute minimum you could walk (about 5 days) to still be all cool with that sought-after Santiago credential… and boy, can you notice. Not only did the prices peak even higher wherever that’s logically possible, also the trails become wider and better paved, as to give way to a herd of elephants. Not today though, in off-season under the pouring rain I was devouring the tracks solo. Without a single moment of dryness I reached Ferreiros, a spot in the absolute middle of nowhere about 100KM away from Santiago.
Am I really almost there?
Night spent in: Xunta Ferreiros.
30: Ferreiros – Ligonde / Airexe
The rain reserves weren’t empty yet. Whenever you think it’s scientifically impossible to have even more rain squeezed out of the grey clouds looming above your head, Galicia makes it happen. I always thought my home country (the Netherlands) was the second-rainiest-country in the world, right after Scotland… but na-ah, Galicia gets a special mention of honour. It’s a bit of a shame, as besides feeling all sense of motivation seeping out of you every extra hour in the cold while your moist layers of clothing rub against your tender humid skin, you can’t properly enjoy this region’s stunning landscapes hiding under grey mist and depressing light-less skies. All photos on this blog were made in the 1 nano-second of drought granted about every other day among constant downpours. 1 nano-second to realize what you’re missing out on.
The rain reserves weren’t empty yet. Whenever you think it’s scientifically impossible to have even more rain squeezed out of the grey clouds looming above your head, Galicia makes it happen. I always thought my home country (the Netherlands) was the second-rainiest-country in the world, right after Scotland… but na-ah, Galicia gets a special mention of honour. It’s a bit of a shame, as besides feeling all sense of motivation seeping out of you every extra hour in the cold while your moist layers of clothing rub against your tender humid skin, you can’t properly enjoy this region’s stunning landscapes hiding under grey mist and depressing light-less skies. All photos on this blog were made in the 1 nano-second of drought granted about every other day among constant downpours. 1 nano-second to realize what you’re missing out on.
I thought the autumn colours and vanished crowds made it the prime season to walk the Camino… but this week my opinion shifted to springtime.
In Airexe I let my soaked backpack slide off my poncho, and started drying my sleeping bag that got entirely wet under a collapsed rain cover that simply broke under the pressure of Galicia. I paid the standard Galician price for an albergue (€8 instead of €5 everywhere else on the Camino – ‘xunta albergues’ have this amazing deal of giving less for more), where an insane amount of beds were crammed in a humid, oddly-smelling room with about 2 centimeters in between them (so you’re basically spooning a complete stranger). I took a shower right next to another naked lady, scraping that last sense of privacy away I was frantically holding onto… apparently even walls are a luxury on this part of the Camino.
I boiled my pasta in a plastic Tupperware in the microwave and without any pleasure ate my vegan burgers, cold and unfried… as although the xunta albergues come with excellent kitchens (they can afford that with those tons of profit after all), they refuse to put any kitchenware or utensils in there. Right, like I’m walking 900-fucking-KM with a collection of pans dangling off my backpack. (And don’t present me with that bullshit-story that pilgrims kept stealing utensils and they now stopped replacing them, or people didn’t wash them well enough – I’m officially a hotel manager by profession, having run anything from low-key backpackers hostels to 4* hotels, and let me tell you there are plenty of other solutions… what about ‘renting out’ free kitchen packs in exchange for ID, upon which the ID is returned whenever the kitchen pack is returned in a clean state? Right.)
Night spent in: Xunta Airexe.
In Airexe I let my soaked backpack slide off my poncho, and started drying my sleeping bag that got entirely wet under a collapsed rain cover that simply broke under the pressure of Galicia. I paid the standard Galician price for an albergue (€8 instead of €5 everywhere else on the Camino – ‘xunta albergues’ have this amazing deal of giving less for more), where an insane amount of beds were crammed in a humid, oddly-smelling room with about 2 centimeters in between them (so you’re basically spooning a complete stranger). I took a shower right next to another naked lady, scraping that last sense of privacy away I was frantically holding onto… apparently even walls are a luxury on this part of the Camino.
I boiled my pasta in a plastic Tupperware in the microwave and without any pleasure ate my vegan burgers, cold and unfried… as although the xunta albergues come with excellent kitchens (they can afford that with those tons of profit after all), they refuse to put any kitchenware or utensils in there. Right, like I’m walking 900-fucking-KM with a collection of pans dangling off my backpack. (And don’t present me with that bullshit-story that pilgrims kept stealing utensils and they now stopped replacing them, or people didn’t wash them well enough – I’m officially a hotel manager by profession, having run anything from low-key backpackers hostels to 4* hotels, and let me tell you there are plenty of other solutions… what about ‘renting out’ free kitchen packs in exchange for ID, upon which the ID is returned whenever the kitchen pack is returned in a clean state? Right.)
Night spent in: Xunta Airexe.
The combination of rain and Camino-wrecked shoes had magically introduced a blister-comeback, and today I was experiencing something entirely new which I can only describe as a ‘hole in the flesh’. I had literally walked off the flesh of my tiny toe… there wasn’t any bleeding, no cut, just a big hole in my foot. But well, as I can’t just regrow a toe overnight, I guess I just had to deal with the pain and suck it up.
Honestly, at this stage I just wanted it to be over. I first wanted this experience to never end, but now I was ready to just wrap it up and move on with my life. My spirits were close to be broken… but not yet, not yet! In my native language there’s a saying “de laatste loodjes wegen het zwaarst” [the last leads weigh the heaviest], freely translated as “the last phase of any undertaking is the hardest to complete”… and man oh man, is that spot on when it comes to the Camino!
A final test, one last proof of true character, as you certainly can’t stop now!
Honestly, at this stage I just wanted it to be over. I first wanted this experience to never end, but now I was ready to just wrap it up and move on with my life. My spirits were close to be broken… but not yet, not yet! In my native language there’s a saying “de laatste loodjes wegen het zwaarst” [the last leads weigh the heaviest], freely translated as “the last phase of any undertaking is the hardest to complete”… and man oh man, is that spot on when it comes to the Camino!
A final test, one last proof of true character, as you certainly can’t stop now!
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- Visit Portugal: Exploring the Algarve & Lisbon
- Europe's best skiing & hiking: Get your ass over to jaw-dropping Switzerland!
- Visit Europe's mini-countries: Gibraltar, Liechtenstein, Luxemburg, Kosovo & Wales!
- Complete hiking guide to Cameron Highlands [Malaysia]
- Borneo's main hiking destination: Kuching - in's & out's
- Peru's hiking capital: Huaraz! The best overnight treks & day hikes!
- Tripping on Ayahuasca [Valle Sagrado - Peru]
- Hiking Argentinean Patagonia: The best walks in Bariloche, El Chaltén, Esquel and Ushuaia
- Going off-grid in Bolivia: Multi-day hiking trips in the mountains of Sucre & Sorata
- Hike the national parks of Brazil!
- Boiling hot hiking: Natural endeavours in Paraguay
- 2 months in Boquete: Panama's Hiking Capital!
- Discover New Zealand: The world's best hikes crammed in 1 country!
- The Austrian Alps: Top Ski Resorts
- Climbing Mount Vitosha: Bulgaria's most famous mountain
- Hitchhiking Transylvania: The green heart of Romania
- Why are Koreans the world's most enthusiast hikers? Read more about Korea's national parks!