Day 26.1

Fonfría del Camino to Samos: 21 Kilometres

I couldn’t wait for Wilma to wake up; I grew easily agitated from a lack of sleep. I woke her earlier than usual, and we were in the lounge to prepare for the day at 4:30 a.m. We organized our backpacks with tags for the next destination. We took our time with breakfast before we left. I had to eat; I was starving. The lady who helped us this morning was not the one from the previous night. She must have been another family member. I nearly vomited when I brought my toothbrush into the bathroom at the entrance of the Albergue. I did not understand why the owners did not clean the toilets at night while pilgrims slept. It was not only their fault but that of the pilgrims as well. There was a distinct lack of consideration and respect for one another.

Wilma had a fit when the woman who served us offered her the stale bread from the previous night. We drank our coffee, then moved out of the place as fast as possible. Our sticks were in our hands, and we were ready for the hike at last. We dressed warmly due to the chill in the air and the faint drizzle. There was no Camino without rain; it was to be another wet, soggy day. The day threatened rain at every opportunity. Fonfría seemed like a farmyard, not a village; there were plenty of tractors, cows, and dogs. Cow dung, large puddles, and mud patches greeted us in the early morning as the terrain shifted from mountains to agricultural farmland. The smell was disgusting, but it did not bother Wilma. We followed the stone wall-lined path outside of Fonfría.

It was a rosary time. We followed a familiar script; Wilma walked out in front of me. She turned around to ask that I pray for her every so often. We walked down a track parallel to the road. The cars sped by in the heavy rain. Bit by bit, the path began to climb. We arrived at O Biduedo after two and a half kilometres. I enjoyed the concrete pavement in the lead up to O Biduedo.

We were in our final days on the Camino. This day was one of the last four days before we were to complete our pilgrimage to Santiago. Could this be the end? Time spent on this path was never to be forgotten. The Camino changed us both. The best lesson of the pilgrimage was to make every day count. The right way did not exist; one needed to choose to take the path right; the attitude toward the Milky Way made it righteous. I did not regret anything so far.

On the contrary, everything was a learning experience. I did my best, and I was proud of myself. The Ermita de San Pedro on the side of the road was closed. I missed so many closed churches. I wanted to stamp my credential at every church I passed. What a pity! The narrow streets and small houses in the village offered a sense of tranquillity. O Biduedo was an undisturbed, calm, sleepy district, free from any busyness.

A pilgrim with a guidebook told us that the Camino was mostly downhill to Triacastela. There were two small villages — Filloval and As Pasantes. I took a photo of an unusually-shaped chestnut tree that locals claimed to be around 800 years old in the latter.

There were a lot of cattle along the paths, and the rain momentarily stopped. I took Wilma’s photo with the tongue of a bull licking her hand and another one of the calf drinking milk from his mother. The breath-taking views of the surrounding landscape left us in awe. This stage offered marvellous and unforgettable beauty. We were blessed with a rainbow ahead of us. Our moaning temporarily subsided; we were back to Wilma and Gino, the two chuffed peregrinas.