Today was a beautiful day up through the mountains, and it all began with a delicious, filling breakfast. Rose and I had been planning on making surprise pancakes for our group for about a week now, and this morning was the perfect opportunity- our hostel came equipped with a small stove, a glorious cast iron pan, and a spatula. We went right to work at six thirty. Rose was halfway through pouring the batter into the pan before I realized that pancakes in England are really more like crepes. Even better! So we made banana and Nutella crepes, with a side of hearty oatmeal with raisins. Yum!
Then began our climb up the mountain to O’Cebreiro. It was only a 12k hike, so Rose and I took our time, pausing to stop and admire the landscape (and catch our breath) frequently. It was nice to feel like we were in no rush- it gave us ample time to enjoy ourselves and appreciate our surroundings. At the beginning of our walk as we approached the mountain, we stumbled upon a group of people riding horses. We were tempted to ask if we could join them, but I was happy to just witness them pass us by and hear the sound of the horse’s steps as they climbed the rock. Rose reminisced about her childhood horseback riding, and I felt a bit homesick for my own pets back home. Rose and I had a delightful conversation about our love for animals, and how our interactions with them at a young age taught us how to be more gentle, compassionate, and appreciative of other living creatures.
We stopped in to a really lovely veggie cafe with hammock chairs and home made juices and little toddlers running around, and sat down to journal and relax for a bit (Rose almost nodded off in a hammock…the altitude and sleep deprivation might be getting to us).
After we left and continued uphill, we made another stop to lay in a field and have some cheese on bread we had packed that morning for a picnic. We felt very moved by these mountains- and the fact that we had walked across them.
Picnic in the profound silence of the mountains
“It’s weird to think that it’s odd to be walking all this way, because cars and trains are our main way of travel… But there was a time when this is how we saw the world, this is how we got around.” Rose said. Walking is a lifestyle, or even an art form, that has gone dormant in the developed world. I often wonder what it will be like when I return home. I don’t think things will ever be the same as they once were, given all that I’ve experienced out here. And that gives me hope for the future, though I have no way of knowing what it holds or how I will feel.
“Change is the only constant thing in life,” Rose says to me often. She will be leaving our group in a few days; she needs to speed up her pace in order to make it to Santiago on time. This makes me very sad, and I will miss her terribly. But I’m thankful for the time I’ve been gifted to spend with her, walking and cooking and doing yoga, and for all the wisdom and insight and good humor she’s shared with me. She is a beautiful soul. She told me that through yoga, she discovered that “life is play,” and she truly embodies it. I’ll always remember how she kissed her rock at the Cruz de Fuerra before tossing it over her shoulder and onto the pile of stones. I will miss her playful spirit. She said to me tonight, “Grief is for people who believe in endings.” And I hope that our time together here on the Camino will not be our last.
When I gazed out over the mountains today, I felt so humbled, lucky, and small all at the same time. These huge mounds of earth had stood tall for ages, shaped by earthquakes, weather, time, and man. And I climbed them today with a wonderful friend under the sun and the mist. What an amazing gift!
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