Thursday, December 9, 2010

Day forty three - Tuesday November 30

Departed: Vega de Vlacarce 8:15am
Arrived: Triacastela 5:15pm
Total hours: 9
Total kms: 38
Accumulated kms: 1396.3
Weather: Snowing

Today was the hardest day yet, but the most exhilerating. It was actually, I think, the hardest day's walk I've ever done. I left Vega de Valcarce as the sun was just peeking its head over the mountains, although you could barely see it thanks to the very thick clouds that were huddled together over the town. It was snowing fairly lightly, and I was very excited as I headed toward the mountain.

Four kilometres later, as I started to climb the very steep, rocky, snow'covered and slippery path, it began to snow more heavily. I was following Felipe's footprints until I noticed he had gone the wrong way, following the cyclists' camino rather than the hikers'. Not long later we both emerged in the same town at the same time but on different paths, and in light of the heavy snow that was now falling, we decided that it might be safer to walk together for the rest of the day.

The snow eased up a little as we got to the top of the mountain and the town of O Cereibro, then really started to fall, accompanied by a strong wind. Even though we were a long way from being in a blizzard, I was enjoying pretending that I was in one.

I must confess that not long after this we got lost. Again. I don't really think it was completely our fault this time. We followed an official sign down a road that subsequently had no more official signs, nor really any real options to turn off. Granted, there may have been some yellow arrows to show us the way, but they were covered in snow if they were there. We wound down and around the mountain, quickly realising as we passed through tiny town after tiny town that we were not going the way the guide book said we should be. We kept on, however, partly because the guide book had been wrong before, and partly because we were following a set of footprints that were recent enough to have remained through the heavy snowfall, and we hoped like crazy that they had been left by a pilgrim who knew where he was going.

We wanted to stop and ask directions but saw no people at all, only angry dogs who either barked and snapped at our heels or, like the one really big German Shepard that was nearly the size of a pony, followed us close growling evily in the back of their throats. We finally found partial shelter under a church awning in a town where the dogs were a bit further away from us, and tried to figure out where we were on the map.

Felipe saw an old man come out of a house, who seemed to know we were lost. He was as angry as the dogs, and spoke way back in his throat like they did as well. He waved us off in another direction and ignored his own black dog that was sniffing hungrily at Felipe's leg and growling menacingly. Felipe, despite speaking Spanish, had trouble understanding him thanks to a local dialect he spoke in, but tried to get the gist.

It turns out we had somehow gone down the wrong mountain, and to get back on the Camino, we had to climb up another one. Perhaps because the snow on the path was now at times thick enough to almost cover our boots, this climb was even harder than our earlier one. We also found the same footprints we had been following heading up this mountain too, so it appears our guide had been as lost as we were.

Upon finally reaching the top we went into a bar for some hot chocolate and muffins. On hearing of our troubles the old woman who presumably owned the place laughed heartily and told the other patrons that we had been lost. She then told us of all the other people who had been lost in the last few weeks.

Tonight we're sharing a room with a Brazilian yogi (who told me he's been extremely lazy on the Camino - a common story) and the Spaniard whose footprints we erroneously followed. One other guy here walked down the main road as opposed to the mountain tracks. This is his thirteenth Camino. He told us that those who go by the road don't get lost, those who try to walk the path do. There's probably some twisted moral in there somewhere.





Final self portrait, just before the snow started smashing down.



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