Coffee  with friends at Hontanas

Since I started my walk I’ve met several people who are walking the camino to try and find some clarity or direction.  I  generally prefer to walk alone but quite often will pass people and chat for a while.   We’re a few weeks in now so many of the faces are familiar and folks share their experiences and reasons for walking.

So I was thinking today about my journey.   I  don’t have any expectations…  This was never a pilgrimage for me.   I am walking because I can.   Does this mean my camino is poorer because of this?  I have met people with unshakeable faith…  People who sincerely hope and pray that Saint James will in some way provide solutions to their problems.

I am no stranger to church  but I don’t share the absolute faith that my fellow pilgrims have.   If I’m honest I’m not even sure that Saint James resides at Santiago but I do respect the love and faith that my new friends hold…  And I certainly hope that they find the answers that will bring their peace.

Anyway… I  was thinking all this as we walked away from Hornillos del Camino this morning.   As usual I start walking in darkness and walk as the sun rises. Today was cold and misty and I walked to music.

Walking uphill as the sun came up I passed a lady who had stopped for a drink…  What a beautiful sight she said.. And it was.   What are you listening to?  She asked… So I unplugged the earphones… She wasn’t expecting to here Alright Now by Free but it was a great way for this old rock chick to wake up!

I can now power out 20km in about 4 hours… Usually with maybe a 30 minute break in between… today the coffee stop was in the very pretty Hontanas, not far from the beautiful ruins of the Convento de San Antón.  By lunchtime I had arrived at Castrojeriz.

En route I saw a red scarf on the path.   In my heart I knew it must have been dropped by a fellow Pilgrim but I never picked it up… I was in my stride marching on.   Fortunately a French lady behind me did retrieve it and she quickened her pace catching all in front until she found the owner of the red scarf.

Turns out it belonged to a lady I’ve walked with on and off for 2 weeks… She calls me England and says hello whenever we see each other.   She was delighted to be reunited with her scarf…  And I was left feeling more than a little ashamed that I walked past it.  Maybe there’s a lesson for me?

On a lighter note I had a fit of the giggles last night at dinner… The English menu suggested curds as an option… Unsure of what was on offer I checked out option 8 on the French and German menus too…  We very nearly wet ourselves laughing at the German option of Dickmilch…  I do wonder if maybe I’m really not cut out to be a Pilgrim.