Whispers from the Camino—Day 25

September 29. San Martin del Camino to Astorga. 24 km.

Greeting the sunrise outside San Martin

I had finally acknowledged that I was feeling somewhat disconnected from the experience of the Camino. Of course, the pain of my blister as well as the dull ache in my injured leg kept me in touch with my body. But it was becoming apparent to me that I had sort of subconsciously been treating the Camino as a means to an end rather than trusting the experience itself to spit me out where I needed to be in life.

It was a subtle distinction. Pilgrimages by their nature are meant to serve as a catalyst for a potential shift in perspective and priorities. They are by their nature transformational—meaning that one expects to be changed by them. But I could feel in my soul and my psyche that I was slightly numb to the experience. I did know part of the reason for this. I had committed to the Camino to study and experience the whole albergue infrastructure as part of seeing if something similar could be established in America.

One of hundreds of memorial altars along the path

The United States has over 175,000 miles of designated routes and many of those routes have dozens of churches on them. Many of those churches are looking for a new way to serve the community as they experience the effects of a historic decline in membership and attendance. I wondered if many of those churches could be opened up or even repurposed as pilgrim hostels along those routes.

But an interesting thing had developed in me. I hadn’t fully committed to using this Camino as a research project as I did want the Camino experience. But I also hadn’t fully allowed myself to experience the Camino leaving myself open to unique connections with other pilgrims, taking advantage of the long hours of walking solitude and enjoying the riches of another culture.

Pilgrim pal, Ramona

But this day was definitely the exception. I met Ramona on the trail and immediately made a connection. Ramona was a therapist in the Seattle area and, as I have discovered in recent years, those of us who work with people’s mental, emotional and spiritual health have a certain language. Ramona and I were off and running almost from the first words of greeting. She had traveled the world—much more than the handful of trips I had taken in recent years. Both of us were divorced but had dated and had some serious relationships. We talked about our marriages, what we learned from dating and more recent relationships and what we were hoping to glean from the Camino experience.

Favorite rest stop at top of small climb

I felt my body and soul relax while talking to her. It was nice to be known even by someone who I had just met. I remember my late cousin, Janet, who was a clinical psychologist. She once told me that once you become a counselor or therapist it is hard to date anyone else who also isn’t in the mental health field. I didn’t find that to be completely true, but had discovered that those of us who professionally guide people toward health have certain assumptions about communication that many others don’t share. While I had no romantic attraction to Ramona, I discovered what a gift it was to walk with someone who spoke a similar language.

Ramona and I walked the entire day together stopping when each other wanted to stop and picking up again when both of us were ready to move on. It was even fun deciding together which path we would take when the way wasn’t completely clear. Without saying it, we had decided to be pilgrim pals for the day. When we reached Astorga, we parted ways as she already had an room reserved and I was intent on staying in the 165-bed Siervas de Maria (Servants of Mary), an old convent that had been renovated in 2004 as a municipal albergue. This was part of my research. I really wanted to see how a municipal albergue was run.

Typical scene at an albergue

I found my 7-euro room, got my bed ready, took a shower, did my wash, hung my clothes out to dry and then made my way down to the plaza for lunch. There Ramona and another pilgrim had just secured a table and I joined them for a delightful lunch of the traditional Ensalada Mixta with lettuce, tomato, onion and tuna and a tall beer.

I felt better than I had the whole trip. I was enjoying the company and conversation. Suddenly the colors seemed brighter. The plaza was filled with more energy than I had experienced in previous plazas. And I felt more hopeful about my life and my future even though I still had no more clarity than I had before I started the day.

The Astorga plaza

This was third pilgrimage and in previous pilgrimages I deeply needed solitude time. I didn’t really need lots of reflective solitude, but I also wasn’t very satisfied treating this pilgrimage just as research. I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted, but twice on this pilgrimage I felt myself come alive and both times were when I was with someone who seemed to understand my world—Roger, the retired minister, from a few days before and Ramona, the therapist.

I was clearly searching for connection.