Last night the address was technically still in Arzua, but it was quite a ways from town. We walked 1k to get back on track and once we did, we saw dewy fields at 9:00a.m., shortly after the usual astonishingly late sunrise.
We passed rows of trees,
a wall of beer bottles,
and mounds of mushrooms.
We walked all the way to O Pedrouzo with Denise and Greg, who left to get one town closer to Santiago.
We passed a memorial for a Dutch woman, who lived in Ireland, who upon completing her second Camino in the 1920's, died in her sleep in Santiago. Sadly two people have died on the Camino during our time here, both men in their 60's. One was a Canadian doctor from PEI, hiking with his wife. How very sad.
The unthinkable can also strike in what you think is a safe and insulated Camino world. While here in Spain the body of an American woman pilgrim, lured from the path earlier in the year, was found. A violent man with mental illness is in custody. Some pilgrims carried an extra scallop shell on their pack in her memory, but at some point I think she was in everybody's mind and heart.
Upon arrival at our pension, called the 9th of April, we were welcomed by the high energy host, who asked us how many kilometres we've walked. When we answered over 700, he shook our hands, dubbing us true pilgrims, not as he said, tourigrinos. He sent two beers with us to our room on the house.
I asked him about the name of the pension and he said it was the birth date of his son, born 18 months ago. Sweet. The room next to ours is the 29th of February. I wonder who the lucky leap year baby is.
Thinking about tomorrow being our last long day made me quite emotional. My foot is ready for the end but my head isn't.
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