The dust on my feet

Michael Bolden
Aug 9, 2017 · 3 min read

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.

Adventures on the Camino

A curated collection of stories and photos from my walk along the Camino Frances route of the Camino de Santiago in 2012. The content originally appeared on Tumblr.

Michael Bolden

Written by

Southerner. Journalist. Managing Director, John S. Knight Journalism Fellowships at Stanford University | alumnus @knightfdn @washingtonpost @miamiherald

Adventures on the Camino

A curated collection of stories and photos from my walk along the Camino Frances route of the Camino de Santiago in 2012. The content originally appeared on Tumblr.

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