Camino invierno Day 10:

Depending on whose calculations you trust, at one point in today’s journey, I was either 57.1 km or 60.512 km away from our destination (Santiago de Compostela, Spain).

I saw the faded wooden sign first. Directly across from it sat a more modern trail marker: one of the stone monoliths that now litter the Camino in this region of Spain, counting down our kilometers to the nearest meter.

So who’s calculation is correct? Who cares. When you’re spending two weeks walking 164 miles, a difference of 2 miles really makes no difference at all. Two miles, at my slowest, is merely an hour’s walk.

I read somewhere a long time ago that the average person walks 3 miles per hour. So why do I so often do only two?  Sometimes because I’m ambling. But usually because I like to stop and stare at the incredible landscapes around me, sometimes taking a picture or five trying to capture the moment. Sometimes time is elongated due to snack breaks, water breaks, or a chat with a local.

And, on occasions like today, my progress is sometimes slowed as a result of local Spanish life: today, at one point, my friend Joe and I could only walk as fast as the slowest cow sharing the Camino route with us.

My walking sticks stuck out in a “v” behind me – a protective posture, as the shepherding dog seemed to want to shepherd me as well. 

Occasionally, we slowed our pace even further, in order to avoid the splatter of falling poop.

A few hundred meters later, the cows took a left into a verdant pasture, and we continued on.

 After 14 or 16 miles of walking – depending on which app, guidebook, or smart phone you use for your reference— Joe and I parted ways. We had reached my destination for the day, but he decided he wanted to walk a little further.

The Spanish couple we spoke with for a little while yesterday as well as the Italian couple we had seen a few times were also continuing on.

And such is life— in the real world and on the Camino. People come and go. Some intersecting with your life for just a few seconds, a few minutes, a few hours, a few days. Some you may run into again days or weeks or years later. Or never.

Having lived on this planet for 46 years, I know all of this. I’ve had these experiences many times—the partings and the reunions.

But that doesn’t make it any easier.

As of this moment, everyone I’ve met on this Camino are ahead of me, except for one person. He and I had lunch together today. Our planned stops for the next two nights do not align. He lives in Alaska and, as a result, starts to walk between 4 and 5 am to avoid the heat. So I will not run into him.

He and I are due to arrive in Santiago on the same day. And we have exchanged contact information, so I imagine our paths will cross again. Maybe some of the others will stay in Santiago for a couple days and so maybe I’ll run into them. Maybe one of them got injured, took a days rest, and so I’ll catch up to them. 

But this is the Camino. And this is life. Who knows what the coming days will bring.