Grace---tripping, falling, hobbling--still grace

Wednesday, July 8--photos and story

After Tuesday, July 7, with its lack of signs, the rain--gentle but still soaking after 6 hours,  that sense of being lost and then suddenly found as miraculously a gift came--in people, mostly in dogs, in quiet deep listening and careful watching. (Not Getting Lost but Found by Grace is the title for that blog just so you can read more about that day if you missed it.)

So I started off Wednesday, having enjoyed renewing a brief friendship of the albergue family, who hugged me and kissed me on both cheeks as I left. And I think the woman said something about visiting her at her "casa" in two hears. I was feeling like I would do okay on this WAY because I just past it a week before. So I set out...

The sun was rising and it looked as if it was going to be cloudy and cool. A great way to walk. 

Through what looks like something out of a CS Lewis or JRR Tolkien books

To places..

I was recognizing. This was good. But it was still early. 

I saw this tree. Look at it carefully...it begins together...separates and then the paths of the branches weave back close together and at the top it is difficult to distinguish from which branch the leaves grow. 

As I started into a little village I saw flowers blooming; I saw dogs sleeping/resting; and I saw people working on their farms...

And then I headed up a path which was the wrong direction. I had asked a villager and she pointed me this way. But after a climb (quite a climb) and about .75 of a mile I turned around. I headed back down and sure enough where I turned right there was a smaller road that turned left. Perhaps the large dog that barked at me all the way up and down when I took the wrong road was a sign and I wasn't listening. Because when I turned the corner and was still slightly in sight the dog went back to resting. 

And I climbed again. Then I saw a familiar sight. And while I had wandered a little I was never really lost. So I kept walking. 

And then I saw some people in front of me. They looked like ordinary pilgrims each with two waking sticks in their hands. 

But as they drew closer I realized that one of them was on crutches. I wished them a buen camino. And then took another photo. 

The camino is a challenging walk. It is up and down and has its ups and downs. I wondered if this pilgrim was injured before he started or during. But whichever he was walking to the sea. 

It wasn't too long after seeing him that there were two more pilgrims taking a rest by the side of the road. As I was passing I said, "hola, buen camin..." Tripped on a rock embedded in the sandy, dirt path, tried desperately to catch and balance mysrlf but in the end landed flat on my belly and face. My finger was bleeding quite badly and both of the young men were embarrassed for me and trying to help me...help me up, no I'll just sit here thank you. Help me out...do you need a first aid kit...no thank you I have an entire pharmacy in my back pack. Helplessly standing there wondering what they could do with this fiercely independent and yet obviously fallen pilgrim. I finally said, "I don't usually make such a dramatic entrance, I'm Debbie." And then smiled at them as if to say, "I'll be fine just give me a minute." 

Then as I retrieved my first aid kit, washed and bandaged my finger we talked.  They asked for advice about Finistera and I happily told them. Then I bid them farewell and buen camino. As I walked away I thought that I possibly  gave them a story to tell about the tripping, bumbling pilgrim... ;) and that is funny!!

I made it to the next village where I got a bite to eat. Visited with some people and then headed out again. Once again the signs weren't clear. But I made it to Negeira. And to my albergue. At the end of the day I walked 30 miles. But was glad that according to the book Santiago was only 13 miles away. 

It was certainly a challenging but memorable day. And I'm grateful.