The dust on my feet
Sept. 5, 2012
Monday I pushed myself to go farther than I ever had. It was my birthday and my ninth day on the Camino. I was walking from Los Arcos to Logroño, a distance of about 30 kilometers. Rain had threatened, but it held off and the paths were good, with the steady sound of gravel
crunching under my feet.
I hit Viana, a city that trumpets its association with Cesare Borgia, who died near there and was buried at a local church. I said hello to some friends who were having lunch at a cafe on the Camino and switched to low gear for the final push. It was a bad idea.

I reached Logroño in a foul mood. It did not help that it was the first real city I had been in since Pamplona. The cars, the noise, the people, my exhaustion. It was difficult to focus.
I moved through the old town barely able to get my bearings. Another Peregrino who I had met in Estella tried to direct me to an albergue but somehow I missed it. I went to the tourism office and waited in line but it was all too slow. I went back to the Camino and just started walking.
I walked out of old town and into a business district. I passed hotels. I pushed through crowds of people headed home from work and shopping. I just kept going.
Soon I was on the outskirts of town. I had left all the other Peregrinos behind. I found myself at a bridge clearly marked as part of the Camino, but it was torn apart with workmen everywhere. I stood there, confused, frustrated. I wanted to get moving and shake the dust of Logroño from my feet.
One of the workers eventually noticed me and anxiously directed me around a building to another street. I found the way. Eventually I entered a vast park and knew I was about to leave this city behind forever. That was when common sense took hold.
It was late, and 12 kilometers to the next town. Did I really want to walk in darkness? It was clear I had pushed myself too far, too fast. A voice told me to sit down on a park bench near a public fountain. I would need to refill my water if I was going on.
That was when I came to myself and realized my folly, that I had ceased to think logically. I wondered if I would have to walk back to old town. That voice again calmly told me to use Maps on my iPhone to search for nearby hotels. There was one just half a mile away. I had actually walked past it just minutes before.
I checked in for the night and gave my swollen feet and tired brain a rest. The next day I watched early Peregrinos taking the walk on the Camino pass the hotel. Eventually I put on my boots and joined the stream.
As I exited town, the people of Logroño wished me well. Cries of “Buen Camino!” greeted almost every step. This dust, this dust I would keep.

