Shedding Off the Blue Ox
Camino. Chapter 13
This is my serialized story of walking the Camino de Santiago across Northern Spain with my sister-in-law. If you’d like to start at the beginning, click here.
Day 11: A blustery day - cold with a forecast of rain. Marlene, my intrepid sister-in-law, and I wake up in our single beds next to each other, and are both reluctant to get started. Soon, though, we will venture out into the early morning darkness with a prayer and a pilgrim’s beatitude that we received back at St. Stephen’s before Pamplona. In about five miles we expect to reach our first town and eat breakfast. I still enjoy a baguette with ham and cheese, but, in truth, as we head west, the baguettes aren’t nearly as good as what I encountered coming out of the Pyrenees. I suspect, nothing will replace the wonderful cheese and slices of prosciutto ham from the mountains.
Overall, we are three days from Burgos, our second major city, but first, we will need to cross over the Oca mountains tomorrow. Today, though, our objective is the town of Belorado, less than fourteen miles away. “A journeyman day,” the guidebooks say - we’ll be walking on a stony, mud-packed road next to agricultural fields on our left and a highway nearby on the right. Rain will serve to keep our heads down and hike faster.
Each morning for the past week we have been shedding items to lower the weight on our backs. Now that we are in sync with “hostel life,” we know what we need and what isn’t necessary. I have left in our various hostels two books of poetry, a writing notepad, and a Frommer’s guidebook on Spain. (I keep my Camino guidebook in my back hip pocket and it has become molded to me.) A few days earlier, even, I parted with my portable charger/power bank (what with access to electricity in the hostels) and I continue to evaluate my pack for other not-needed items.
I am down to two pairs of pants, three pairs of underpants, three tee-shirts, one light-weight, long-sleeve shirt, two hats, a jacket, a pair of sandals, boots, and six pairs of socks (I wear two pairs a day). I carry a thin sheet and blanket that normally fits in a sleeping bag and one backpacker’s towel (for certain hostels) and that’s about it, except for a plastic cup, tape for my feet, and a bag of toiletry items. My pack must be down from twenty to about fifteen- to seventeen pounds.
Marlene, though, is the champ and has gone to the extreme. This morning she left bobby pins, a hair tie, and ear plugs. Every time I think of something else, she tops me. Her pack, at this point, must weigh only ten to twelve pounds.
She says, “It’s stuff, it’s only stuff.” Like we carry too much stuff in our lives and learning let go on the Camino is as important as deciding what in life we really need.
In the rain I walk wearing a plastic poncho. My back pack is covered with a rain pouch. On this day, with the rain sweeping over us, Marlene does too, but instead of a poncho she wears a raincoat. I am exasperated with the fact that I left my raincoat at home, the raincoat I bought from REI precisely for this situation. I chose, instead, to pack the poncho because it felt lighter. Now I am soooo sorry I did. From the moment I struggled to put the poncho on, I have ripped it and it continues to rip as I go along.
I recognize I am supposed to be contemplating God or achieving “serenity” on my pilgrimage or even finding meaning in the churches along the way - but I am focused instead on how soon I can burn my poncho or tear it into tiny plastic pieces. The big blue tarp feels like a huge kite. The image that comes to mind in leaving the Rioja region and entering Castillo y Leon, the largest autonomous region on our “Way,” is of Paul Bunyon’s Ox, Blue Babe. I feel like I need to shred - no destroy - the Blue Babe.
Rather than my whale of a poncho, I force myself to focus instead on my feet. This is crazy, given how often my feet dominated my thoughts this past week. Still today, they feel much better. The blisters have healed and the therapeutic sock I bought two days ago is negating some of the pain in my right heel - that, along with my new socks with the inner linings I bought yesterday (I threw out two old pairs), the vaseline coating my toes, the new hiking sticks secure in my hands, and heavy doses of ibuprofen deadening everything in my body, I walk alongside fields of sunflowers, and even if I’m in a bright blue baggie, my attitude is positively electric!
In Belorado this afternoon, the sun comes out and I joyfully (and thankfully) throw my poncho into the trash. One more weight that I’ve been carrying since France I am free of as of today. Fingers cross it won’t rain for the rest of the pilgrimage! I promise myself, though, to remain serene even if it does.
We enjoy an afternoon of walking around exploring the small town. Marlene goes to mass that night in an ancient church we discover where the priest holds a special pilgrim service and she is thrilled. The hostel we stop at comes complete with a nice restaurant and offers laundry service. It’s all a welcome surprise. Amazing how simple things can bring a feeling of euphoria. I’m reminded of our early morning beatitude which offered such relevance on the day.
Blessed are you, pilgrim, if your backpack is emptying of things and your heart doesn’t know where to hang so many emotions.
Jonathan,
I love reading your substack posts. It warms my heart to recall our pilgrimage through your posts. Your colorful prose brings the journey to life. Thank you!