Day 38: Rabanal del Camino to El Acebo

"I have climbed highest mountain
I have run through the fields
only to be with you
but I still haven't found what I'm looking for"
-U2

Out by 8:00 in a dense fog. A lousy way to start the day. Todays route passed through Foncebadon and on to the Cruz del Ferro soon afterwards. Foncebadon is essentially a ruined village, just starting to come back to life on the back of the pilgrim trade. It still retains an eerie sense of abandonment, of something that will never be again.

The Cruz del Ferro was an intense experience. Debbie from New Mexico had been looking forward to this moment the whole camino. I walked with her the last few kilometers to the cross, and when we got there, it was obviously a very emotional moment for her. I didn't expect it to be for me, and I was making fun of it as recently as a couple of hours before that. As I walked up the pile to lay my rock down, I realized what the act meant for me. For 550km, I had been carrying this little piece of home with me. The camino asks you to give up a lot. You're comfortable lifestyle, your privacy, your sleep, etc. And here, just as the camino was winding down, it was asking you to let go of your piece of home. As if to make room in our hearts for something new. For a moment, I was acutely aware of how far I was from home, and all at once felt alone and yet connected to the millions of pilgrims before me who had left their piece of home here before me. My link to home now is whatever I can carry in my memory, in my heart and on my back. Home is where the heart is? No, just the opposite. The heart is where home is.

From the cross, the camino went steadily up the mountain slope. And at one point, rather abruptly up. Steepest slope I had ever seen; so much so that if I tried walking up, I'd end up losing ground from my feet slipping a bit. So I tackled it in the stupidest way possible; through a series of 9 or 10 sprints uphill, each lasting 20 seconds or so and another 40 to recover. It was freaking murder. The views at the top were spectacular, but I still have some trouble justifying the climb. Especially since, from the top, you could clearly see an easier way up to where I was. The rest of the road to El Acebo was glorious. Like walking across the roof of the world. I wish I had the words to describe how beautiful the scenery was; green mountains all around me, huge, but so close you'd swear you could touch them. I took lots of pictures, but the pictures will never do it justice. It was magnificent. You can´t help but feel like a king looking at that scene. I did, however, have the unnerving sensation that the family Von Trapp were going to jump out of a bush at any moment and accost me with close-harmony singing.

Tomorrow is another short hop, only 16km into Ponferrada. Happy Thanksgiving everyone back home.