The Camino is full of stories. Not only for those who walk to Santiago, but for the people who live along the Camino. The ten-mile path from Sarria to Ferreiros cuts through tiny villages, pastures, backyards, gardens and a hay barn. It wanders along the edge of a creek and winds up a rocky trail flanked by a column of ancient-looking walnut trees whose branches bend and twist like old men ushering us forward.
The Way is both social and solitary. Jon and I walked alone for miles, then turned a corner and happened upon a noisy group of pilgrims speaking at least ten different languages.
“Are you looking for a stamp?” the owner of a tiny bar called to us from his front door.
Like every pilgrim, we eagerly pulled out our credentials (pilgrim’s passport) for a stamp with a date to prove we had passed this way. Within moments we were caught up in the chatter and excitement of other pilgrims sharing tapas or drinking a beer or enjoying ice cream.
Not long after our welcome break, we came across a Galician farmer tending the trail that passes along the side of his barn. He was bent over with age and weathered from years of sun and wind.
“Buen Camino!” we said, and continued walking.
For some reason I turned back and noticed the man leaning against his rake, watching us walk away.
He smiled. I waved.
Moments later I jogged back and reached for his weathered hand. The two of us began conversing in the universal sign language of travelers with no common language. He asked me how far I was going. I told him I was walking to Santiago. He pointed to Jon. I nodded.
He pulled one, then two walnuts from his pocket and wrapped my hand around them. He made a broad arch with one arm and I heard the word cathedral in Spanish. Take these to Santiago for me.
His hands made the shape of the cross and he motioned again, showing me a hill. Again I heard the Spanish word: catedral. Leave them at the top of the hill when you first see the cathedral. He pointed to his heart and smiled.
The exchange lasted only a few minutes, but I understood his story. I will carry the walnuts from his trees to Santiago and leave them at the monument on the hill above town. What a lovely view they will have.
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Kristin Jarvis Adams' story of Andrew and Frightful is a beautiful and remarkable journey through medical mysteries, a reliance on a superhero chicken, and ultimately, a transcendent faith that ushers in hope when all else seems lost.
Beautiful! Tears are streaming! ❤️
I have had several bouts of tears and we are only on Day 3! So many emotions to spill onto the Camino, and so many ways to fill me up.
I feel as if I am with you…your words paint such a vibrant picture of your journey. I can only imagine what you and Jon are feeling walking this trail. I’m excited each day to see your posts. Love and hugs. Xo
Reading your blog with my coffee in the morning is a beautiful way to start the day! Thank you Kristin … your writing captures this amazing experience beautifully! “Buen Camino!”
In the telling and the listening, I, too, connected with the Galacial farmer. I’m reminded that it’s the moments within the journey that healing can and does occur. Your statement, “The Way
Is both social and solitary,” is a truth for many of us whom you know and others you may never meet. I, for one, am eager to hear of connections encountered along your way but also experience the solitude as you describe your meandering through the pastures and hillside. Both are Blessings!
I have read and enjoyed a couple of books narrating the experiences and reflections of “pilgrims” on the Camino – your postings are a treasure. Thank you!