Day 29.1
Palas del Rei to Salceda: 41 Kilometres (our longest walk on the Camino)
Challenge and test were the words on my mind. So, on that note, I woke up at 5:30 a.m. I slept exceptionally well. I woke up my mate, then gathered all our belongings and prepared ourselves for the day in a different room (to avoid waking other pilgrims).
Today was to be a day to remember, our longest day on the Camino. It was our second-to-last day, and we had forty-one kilometres ahead of us. But, we could do it with God’s blessing. We went downstairs for breakfast and coffee. Thomas joined us from his Albergue. The three of us could not believe we were approaching the end of this incredible pilgrimage. Swarms of pilgrims passed outside, and it was a steady stream of soggy humanity. From where did they all come? Our backpacks were ready in the corner of the entrance of the Albergue. This was the last two days, Champ, and then I will have you by my side forever. Thank you, Sonia, for letting us feel at home; at least we were both strong mentally and physically to face this long stretch.
Wilma and I were struck by the vibrant decorations and the pilgrim’s fountain above the Concello Palas del Rei. The more recent sculpted Santiago Peregrino statue in the small plaza complemented these decorations as well. The sculpture consisted of male and female pilgrims, and it held a kind of power for those of us pilgrims. I could write a whole essay on the Camino by simply admiring this statue. The poses and expressions told a compelling story.
I prayed the rosary. We passed signs for Santiago — 65 kilometres and Melide — 20 kilometres. We could not believe how far we walked from the third of May. Proud of how we have gone on this journey, we held our sticks, made sure we were dressed warm and packed our bags with all the necessary provisions. I felt I was carrying a mini-market of sweets on my back. We were overwhelmed and amazed by our firm decision to test ourselves on the Camino.
The beginning of the stage was the most beautiful picture because there were plenty of ups and downs. In a short time, we were surrounded by breath-taking landscapes bathed in the first light of the day, green forests, fog, clouds, and abundant wildflowers. These features converged to reveal a singular beauty that inspired us both. I felt deep energy reserves the entire day. First, I left my black gloves at the 60,450-kilometre mark, then left my green socks at the 59,559-kilometre mark, and finally, I left my pink legging at the 50,331-kilometre mark from Santiago.
The morning fog forced us to step carefully. This was extremely necessary because both Wilma and I tended to be quite clumsy. We heard the weasels from afar, and sometimes it felt like I was on a treasure hunt full of hidden secrets. Was there a treasure? What was it? Was it the experience of the Camino? This day was spicy. We walked through eucalyptus and oak tree forests and traditional Galician villages. We encountered a range of farm animals, such as cows, ducks, chickens, sheep, cats, and dogs.
The track led us to a deserted village, the Hamlet of Laguna. This village was organized around the central Church San Xulián de Camino. There was a cemetery next to the church, and a deathly silence hung over the entire town. I sensed a deep connection to this place! I always related to places like that. I repeated, “May they rest in peace,” over and over. I felt their souls floating around the empty area. It was an exciting place for serenity.
San Xulián de Camino was a small village with a historic cobblestoned area where a stone cross stood out in the heart of the centre.
Wilma was ahead of me. Several pilgrims passed me at an excessive speed. I was not sure why they rushed. I suddenly felt alone, surrounded by the spirits from the cemetery. I thought they were trying to understand why I was there? Why did I stop? I started thinking: I do not know why, but I stood still for over ten minutes. Then, the stillness and peacefulness set me at ease. I was there, and it was not a dream; it was real. I was a part of the Camino. I was the daughter of my creator; therefore, I became one with the stars in this field. At this healing spot, it proved to me that my body was my temple. I planned to care for it and to treat it with respect more than ever. The wind-removing pose (Pavanamuktasana) crossed my mind instantly. It was one of the twenty-six Bikram Yoga postures; my favourite was when we told our students to give themselves a nice tight hug and thank their bodies.
My mate and I reunited again because Wilma consistently waited for me if she could not see me. She knew I sometimes lingered because I often stopped to take photos. We chatted and laughed at some secret stories from the past. We both simultaneously said: “What happens on the Camino stays on the Camino.” A couple of passing pilgrims smiled at us. Before we knew it, we crossed Río Pambre, followed the road, and paused for a coffee and Wi-Fi break for about thirty minutes. At Ponte Campaña, where we found the private Hostel Casa Domingo, an old stone house with a giant clamshell under its sign. This was a beautiful setting in the middle of farmland.
From this point, one of the most spectacular stretches of the stage began, passing through exceptional cobbled lanes. I shot some magnificent photos on this stretch. Finally, through Lebreiro and Dissicabo, Wilma and I reached Casanova through the woods, the last village in Lugo’s land.
Hello, La Coruña Province! The stone markers provided the name of our current village and the number of kilometres to reach Santiago. We arrived in the town of Leboreiro in no time. Leboreiro was one of the most spectacular hamlets on this stage. The pathway was the most crowded with pilgrims, yet, due to Melide and Arzua connected with the Primitive and North Caminos, the number of pilgrims was much more elevated than in Samos. The hamlets were almost exclusively dedicated to “The Galician Blonde,” a type of cow that — together with provinces in Austria — raised the best kind of veal.
Legend had it that water flowed from a miraculous fountain that emitted light at night and a pleasant scent near the Church of Santa María. Curious people dug around the fountain until they found an image of the Virgin Mary. This image was promptly moved into the church. Nevertheless, the Virgin Mary image miraculously returned to the fountain each night. Then, the inhabitants of Leboreiro decided to sculpt a stone image of the Virgin Mary above the main entrance, where it was still located. The sculpted Virgin Mary remained inside the church.
A peculiar cabazo, a thatched roof granary storage structure standard throughout the region, was placed in front of the church. It was like the hórreos, used for corn storage that we passed earlier on our journey. The cobs were placed inside to keep them dry and out of reach of rats and other animals. The route grew more and more exciting as we made progress. I was so impressed by all the paths and stopped thus far. I told myself: Way to go, Eugenie!
As we resumed walking, we took a brief break to enjoy chocolate cookies and suckers over the Puente Maria Magdalena over the Río Seco. We passed a picnic area marked by a large cross and an old antique steel letterbox hung on the wall outside a house. There was a detour on the path that led us through an industrial estate. The air quality was markedly worse due to unpleasant car fumes from the nearby road. We encountered a water fountain with a yellow arrow with a text that read: “You and I exist at this moment, with a beautiful romantic handwriting.” We were inspired, and our spirit was lifted when we came across small notes, such as this. Both of us were impatient through this industrial area, and then we reached the village of Furelos, another magical enclave with its attractive setting. There was an ancient bridge over the Río Furelos. Every bridge I crossed gave me the courage to carry on, and it was like I was crossing the bridge of my insecurities. Every bridge changed me. The houses in this village all still had their striking medieval doors. After a short climb from Furelos, we carried on for one and a half kilometres on a cobbled stone path, which transformed into gravel to reach the village of Melide.
