Day 6 of Walking: Lead the way, God

Whew! What a day! I feel like I´ve been walking for 30 miles. Oh wait, I have! I got a bit "lost" today, and by lost I don´t mean I didn´t know where to go, I mean I had no idea where I was. More about that later, though. Let me tell you about yesterday after I left Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick behind. Had a rough time on the old Roman roads, since afer a couple thousand years they´re a bit uneven. I was pretty tired by the time a got up the mountain to a little town called Villamayor Monjardin. There was an Albergue run by a Dutch evangelical group I wanted to check out (mainly because it was the only place to stay for another few miles.) The man and woman running it both spoke English, so I checked in and found that the mattresses were along the same lines as gymnastics pads, only a little thicker. The facilities were good enough, though, so I took a quick shower and went to the pilgrims´ dinner at the town´s bar. I had ordered the non-vegetatian meal, which started with a bowl of chicken soup and ended in some suspicious beef. It was all well-prepared, though, and as long as i avoided the gross parts the meat was tasty. During dinner I sat next to a young man from Norway who spoke very good English and who happened to be another aspiring writer. We had a good conversation during dinner, which ended with some Disney yogurt. That night I spoke some with a French woman and the woman who ran the Albergue while I waited to use the bathroom. They were both very nice, though the woman from France had almost as hard a time following our English as I did their French. Though the mattresses were thin, I slept like a rock that night. It was a pleasant stay, for the people I met if not for the comfort.

I started a little bit before 8 o´clock this morning after a breakfast of fruit, bread, margarine, and jelly. Although I left after almost all the others, I passed them throughout the morning and spoke some more with the French woman. It was a beautiful morning, for the rainclouds to the west were letting loose a fine mist, which made rainows galore. Breathtakingly beautiful, they were, even the ones that were incomplete. I figured that was as good a sign as any to go far today. I decided then and there to walk the 40 kilometers (about 25 miles) to Logroño. I passed through a few pretty towns with large and very old-looking churches and ate lunch at the bar in a tiny village on the Rio de Torres. The husband and wife (neither of whom spoke a word of English) who ran it were very kind, even after I told them I was from the States. He encouraged me to have some wine with my ham and cheese, so I passed an enjoyable half-hour in their courtyard.

Not long after lunch I started on quite the adventure. The Camino intersected with a paved road and a gravel road. Since most of the Camino is gravel and dirt, I naturally decided to continue on that road. Oops! I was only slightly troubled by the lack of yellow arrows and that normally mark the Camino, but my suspicions weren´t confirmed until the gravel road disappeared into the grass. By then I had gone so far I didn´t feel like turning back, so I looked around and figured God would show me a way through with yellow and blue flowers rather than painted signs. As such, I spent the afternoon trying to keep in mind the rainbows this morning, and following the yellow and blue flowers west through empty fields and gravel roads (I´m pretty sure I was trespassing on private property for a lot of it, but fortunately I didn´t see another soul.) A couple times I had to climb up and down slopes by grabbing grass clumps and sliding down jagged rocks on my bottom. God eventually led me to a highway, where I saw a road sign for Logroño. It said 10 kilometers (6.2 miles), and I was already exhausted from my long detour. I walked along the highway, though, still keeping watch for flowers, should God decide to mercifully show me a quicker route. I ended up walking on the highway for the entire time, and wandered through the city for a while due to the infuriatingly lax details of the guidebook´s map. I was able to occassionally spot yellow objects, so I tried to follow them as long as they followed the road signs, but once I was in the town I had to ask for directions. I was literally about to break down emotionally when I found the cathedral and Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick walking by it. We ate dinner and I took a long bath.

Much as I´m thankful for God´s provision by showing my how to get un-lost, I still have to wonder why in the world He had to pick such a long route. Perhaps He is training me for the roads ahead. Until next time, much love and prayer to you all, and goodnight!

In Him,
Hunter

Stubble Update: Filling out quite nicely. Mustache still thin, but the chops are progressing very well. The chin and neck still have the lead, though.


It was about this point, outside Pamplona, that I became smitten with Spain.


I just think windmills are cool.


This it where, according to legend, a pilgrim dying of thirst was offered water by satan if he would renounce God. As soon as the pilgrim refused, St. James appeared to him and gave him water. The guidebook said it's usually dry, but I got a mouthful or two of water from it.