There are some days on the Camino that exceed all expectations, that exist in a kind of ephemeral haze that leave you thinking aft wards that it was all just too good to be true. Two days ago was that day. The day started bright and early, rising from my bed to be greater by a lovely sunrise, the first visible for almost a week: the seemingly endless rain had finally been left behind on the meseta. The climb up towards the Cruz de Ferro was bracing but exhilarating, the early morning cold quickly swept away by the vigorous ascent. The Cruz itself lent a somber air to the whole affair, and after several moments reflection and the unleavening of a burden, the Camino started sloping towards its penultimate downhill through tranquil valleys, accompanied quite often by the babbling of gentle brooks. The whole thing seemed overtly, almost aggressively picturesque, as though the landscape wanted to grab you by your shoulders, give you a good shake and say, “This is what you were working towards this whole time! Wasn’t it worth it!” Those are the days that make the Camino and its blisters and tendinitis and your bunkmate upstairs who doesn’t so much suffer from as rejoice in disruptive sleep apnea very much worth it. Those are the days that guidebooks lead you ever onward in search of. Then there are days like yesterday. Cue the Benny Hill now, you might as well have it playing for the rest of this.

Yesterday seemed to start as a continuation of the day before, clear skies and a decent but cheap breakfast started the day off, and I decided to try and walk for the day with Eric, a middle aged Dutch man who had been at several of the same alburgues as me for the previous nights. We set our route for the day, through Ponferada and its sprawling suburbs to a small town with a single alburgue where we planned to spend the night with several other members of our quickly assembled walking group. Plans laid, Eric and I set out on our way. We quickly arrived I  the suburbs of Ponferada, and decided to make a quick stop for the greatest of Spanish comestibles, café con leche. Setting out again, we followed as always, the yellow arrows that helpfully way mark the Camino across its entire breadth.  There is in fact a second Camino, the Camino de Invierno, that briefly intersects with the Camino Frances outside of Ponferada. In fact, it seems almost negligent that neither of our guidebooks, in Dutch and English respectively, even mentioned this ersatz Camino. We of course, having no knowledge of this secondary Camino at the time merely remarked upon our good fortune in finding what appeared to be an alternative route, as we gently ascended through fields of grape and wooded glens instead of slogging through industrial suburbs and hard concrete. We continued in what seemed like a ponderous loop around Ponferada, certainly a few kilometers more, but most definitely worth it. Three or four times we expected to round the corner and head triumphantly back towards the main Camino route with ammo to tease our compatriots with over their choice of route. This never happened.

When we finally came across a town with a name, we pulled out my map to check our location, and were told by insistent locals that the town was so far out of the way that it was off the left side of the page, and even though we had already walked nearly fifteen kilometers of our supposed twenty-three kilometer day, there were still nearly twenty-five kilometers between us and our final destination. We stopped at a bar to revitalize with café con leche, and plan our route back to the Camino using their wifi. The most efficient route it seems, was to take country roads for about five kilometers, then follow the National Highway for about ten kilometers in order to rejoin the Camino and continue on for another eleven kilometers to town. Eric it turned out, was full of excellent advice about being agile with a large backpack, including how to throw oneself quickly and efficiently over a jersey barrier in the event that a car is about to hit us. Fortunately, we continued on encountering little more problem than the sweltering heat of the Spanish afternoon, reflected upward again by the asphalt of the highway, until we rejoined the Camino and encountered Emma around six kilometers short of our goal.

A quick pause for back story, Emma, short and Scottish, with everything that it implies, was bitten by an bug, most likely of the insectile or arachnid variety exactly a week before. She had visited the doctor twice since then, each time complaining of pain and swelling, and had recieved two different prescriptions for two different medications. Back to the story, Emma was overcome with pain, and had fruitless chased a side trail in search of an alburgue and relief. She was accompanied by another member of our company, who had called ahead, and apparently help was on the way. Help did in fact arrive quite shortly, proceeded by lights and sirens. The police rolled up, assessed the situation, and said that Emma needed to be taken to the pilgrim hospital in Ponferada immediately. Both officers then did an almost double take, realized that I had translated for all parties in the previous conversation, and politely insisted that I accompany them to the hospital to act as a translator. It was depressing to see my days work reduced to fifteen minutes of quick driving, but also fun to see crowds and traffic melt away before the oncoming sirens. The driver took his foot off the gas pedal to do nothing more than heel toe the clutch.

The news at the hospital was grim, the bite, originally innocuous, had become inflamed and infected, and Emmas Camino was over. She would be returning to Scotland the next day to receive additional treatment, and while the problems should be resolved within a few days, it will be weeks until she’s walking properly again.

I finally arrived at the alburgue after a helpful ride from the very same police officers (though it took significantly longer this time without the aid of as Emma called them the “blues and twos”) and was able to step through the door at seven pm, twelve hours exactly after setting out that morning.