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It’s said that an abbott from a nearby monastery, in the 11th century, erected this simple iron cross at the highest point on the Camino, originating in France. One theory is that it was erected so that pilgrims traveling in the winter could recognize the Camino in the deep snow. A custom began to carry a small stone from home, while you were on your pilgrimage, leaving it at the cross with the intent of a prayer, or conviction with that stone. Leaving your stone was also meant as the gesture of ridding yourself of any burden that was keeping you from fully embracing your faith. Over the centuries, the pile of stones (and so I imagine prayers, convictions and burdens) has grown to what we see today. I left two stones….one to remember my family and the other for the memory of Rick Mancuso and his family.

Candidly, I was very anxious about today’s walk. My last full-mountain walk did not go well (see page 1, in the Pyrenees!). I’m not a big fan of walking up. Adding to the fact that this was a highest point on the Camino, and with my shin splints and tendinitis…you get the picture. As it turned out, I managed the ascent very well. It was actually enjoyable. The weather was perfect. It was the descent that nearly killed me! The path was rock strewn, sometimes barely wide enough to pass, sometimes only a gully from previous rains. The path was trying at every turn to twist, sprain or break my ankle! It took me hours to get down. Having said all that negative stuff, the scenery was breathtaking. Miles and miles of spring flowers and bushes in bloom…purple heather, yellow and white scotch broom. The high mountain ranges in the distance. At lower altitudes, the wild lavender was also blooming. And other flowers that I have no idea what they were. It was a long and grueling day. I’m in a nice alberque in a nice little village. I’m heading out now to find some dinner.

April 29. Yesterday turned into a uniquely interesting day. It started the day before when someone in the alberque noticing my limp and shin splints recommended that I get a pair of compression socks. Yesterday morning, I went off in search of a pharmacy. It took me 4 hours and 3 villages to finally find one, and I was in a fair amount of pain. I had memorized the Spanish phrase for compression socks. The pharmacist, pointed to a chair and told me to sit and take off my shoes and socks. She took out her tape measure and analyzed my sore and healthy legs. She said that I did have shin splints and also tendinitis. She recommended 2 topical creams (one of which I had). And then the extraordinary happened. She asked me if it would be ok if she massaged my sore area. She got down on her knees, applied the cream and massaged it for a couple of minutes. Then she said, “well…I might as well do the other leg.” And she did. She then showed me the proper way to put on my socks. The only thing I could think of (for my American readers)….in your wildest imagination, could you see a CVS pharmacist coming out from behind the counter and massaging their customer’s legs in the store? She was all business but very kind. After giving me instructions of what to do…she said as I was leaving… “if you do as I instructed, you will get to Santiago”.

This episode made me think about all of the people that are helping me on this journey. I call them my “support team” or “Camino pit crew”. They are the pharmacists, nurses and doctors. The alberque hosts, cooks and cleaning staff. It’s the cafe owners, waiters and waitresses. I’m sure I’m forgetting others. These people help us everyday with countless acts of kindness and support. I have no doubt that the advice and attention that this kind pharmacist gave to me, happened that same morning and everyday, in all sorts of ways throughout the Camino. They are all an integral part of helping me (and others) get to Santiago. But also, to help us form these indelible memories that we’re going to keep of this special time in our lives. They are as important as our iPhones, maps and Camino apps…. probably more so.

Finally…the day ended with an electrical blackout over the entire Iberian peninsula, and parts of France. No lights, internet, phone service, no hot water or ATM access. Airports, trains and stores were closed. We took quick showers, and brushed our teeth in the dark. I was in my alberque and their kitchen ran on gas. So we still had a wonderful communal dinner. We went to bed and the power was restored sometime during the night. We’re still wondering how such a huge landmass could lose all of its power. That’s why I didn’t post anything yesterday.

So another event-filled day on the Camino. Tomorrow is a long and difficult walk for me. I hope my leg cooperates with the task at hand.