4/17: Villafranca Montes de Oca to Cardeñuela Riopico

Time: 8:43 a.m. to 4:15 p.m.

Distance: 16.12 miles.

Steps: 36,524.

Elevation Gain: 1,330 feet.

Average Walking Speed: 3.3 mph.

A Quick Morning Miracle

Over the past few days, my on-hand cash dwindled, and my need for an ATM increased greatly. For several days, I had searched every town and village on the route for an ATM. No luck. I was down to less than 5 Euros and tried to go an “ATM” that Google had listed for this town before hitting the trail. I went to the bank – it was just a small locked store front with no ATM. I was becoming desperate and frustrated. There are many places on the Camino that only accept cash. I started thinking about what it would mean to not eat for a while.

Just then, a couple Camino friends walked up and asked me what the problem was. I explained my plight, and, with no hesitation, one of them took out a wallet and handed me some Euros. No questions asked. I was floored by their unexpected and timely generosity. [Since that time, our paths have crossed, and I’ve had the opportunity to pay it back while looking for opportunities to also pay it forward].

Carl Plays in the Mud

Leaving town, the Camino follows an immediate steep and long ascent up into the hills. This leads to an oak forest where the trees have not yet started to bud. The ground was uncertain and muddy from the previous night’s heavy rain.

I hit a really mucky and impassable  mud puddle and tried to get across it. Then my hiking stick collapsed, and I went down rather inelegantly. It was my first fall on the Camino and my baptism into the fellowship of the mucked. Thankfully, only my ego was bruised. I then had a great big laugh at myself.

Meeting Friends

Further down the trail I ran into Aussie friend Fred again. We chatted and then stopped to rest at a makeshift roadside tiki / totem display.

I had to go pee, and she had to keep walking. So we parted ways.

After that I ran into Valentina from London. She’s 26, unemployed, and traveling while trying to find herself and sort it all out. One of her parents is from Chile, and she went there to try to connect with family she had not yet met.

We got around to talking about God and Jesus. She was very open to spiritual matters. She said she believed and yet felt unsure about praying. Outward religious expression is less fashionable for many of her generation.

Like many conversations I’ve had on the Camino there is an easy openness in deep sharing. We all know that we are on the path to discover or find out what life / God / the Univese has for us. And what is next.

Later, after we had separated on the path, I ran into Valentina at a cafe. I encouraged her that there are other people like her who are seeking and that it would help her faith to find her people.

Would You Smell My Face?

Further down the road, the trail came to high flat plateau with 360-degree endless vistas and expansive Spanish skies. To make matters even better, there were scenic happy horses munching away at the meadow grass. All pilgrims had stopped, gawked, and broke out their cameras.

On the other side of the meadow the trail has a gravel surfaced descent. I was still snapping pictures when a man in front of me looked disoriented and in need of help. He saw me and said (or what I thought he said) “Would you smell my face?” After an awkward moment staring at him and trying to decide whether to engage the situation or run away, I figured out that he had actually said, “I fell on my face.”

He needed help to get his hiking poles off of his pack to help stabilize him and to keep from falling again. I gladly obliged. I stayed with him as we walked on for a couple of hours, making sure he didn’t have a concussion or some other injury.

At the next village, Joe (that’s his name) bandaged his hands with my bandages and antibiotic ointment. I was simply glad to help and that he was okay.

We had a wide-ranging and engaging conversation about life, careers, family, and faith. We parted when I found a cafe and he wanted to keep walking. Later that evening, we ended up in the same alburgue in Cardeñuela Riopico.

Tuckered Out

The last miles of the day were hard on me. My calves started to ache. The trail was long and empty and isolated. I began to feel like it would never end. I again became concerned and was thinking about running out of cash.

After a forever-feeling amount of time, I pulled into Cardeñuela Riopico and found my alburgue. It was nice and mostly empty.

The alburgue offered a decent meal and pleasant table company, including Joe.

Pilgrim Wisdom: How easily we forget our morning miracles when the day wears on.

Pilgrim Lesson: Laugh at yourself every now and then. Loudly.