Santiago

I pushed hard and reached Santiago on March 24th.

The Cathedral of Saint James is a sight to behold. It is ancient and houses the relic bones of the second most important of Jesus' apostles, James (the first being Peter). The footings were dug 1000 years ago and this cathedral took 235 years to complete.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santiago_de_Compostela_Cathedral

I found the Officina de Peregrino, offered my passport credentials for inspection and received my Compostela. My pilgrimage was done.

Hey --- make sure you see my video of the swinging "Botafumeiro" at the Peregrino Mass on March 25th:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N6GNPlBEu3Y

So now the trip is done. I half-heartily made an attempt on March 25th to head to Cape Finisterre, the "End of the World", on the Atlantic. This was the terminus for early pagan pilgrimages where people went to witness the death of the sun. Then after three hours of slogging on more mud paths something just clicked and I said, "That's it. I am out of here". With some rooftops in sight, I bushwhacked out to a road and turned south for Portugal.

The next 3 days became my most difficult of the entire trip. Sporadic rain, no map (no one sells them!), the N-550, a major secondary road, would end as the international A-12 slashes through it, stopped by a cop on the A-12, dogs barking from behind every fence, no one speaks English, lost, found, lost again and then I had 3 flat tires in one 24 hour period. On March 26th, I don't think I made 20 miles all day trying to get away from the major city of Vigo.

On the 27th, I made it to Tui on the Rio Minho. From Tui I crossed the bridge to Portugal. With about 9 hours on my last day, I landed in Vila Praia de Ancora on the Atlantic. I got a nice Oceanside room with a balcony ($35 Euro/night). I showered with my clothes on and there was a ring of sand and grit around the tub. I stayed 4 nights and just kicked back in a laid back little town. I sold the bike on the beach sidewalk, in the rain, and got about half my investment back. All in all, a wonderful end to this adventure.

After a train ride to Lisbon, on Tuesday April 1st, I flew back home to Boston - about 9 days sooner that I had originally planned. But the trip was done and damn - it's good to be back home.

I guess then it's time to wrap up this blog - but not until I express my sincere thanks and gratitude to my wife, Jane. She selflessly sacrificed and supported me during these past few months. It was a welcome sight when she turned into the C&J bus terminal in Portsmouth Tuesday evening to pick me up.

I also want to thank each and everyone of you. I received many messages of interest and encouragement. Friends wrote and left kind comments on this blog. You might be interested - the blog to date has had 1721 views by 190 people from 7 countries. But it was you guys here at home in New Hampshire, Maine, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Arizona, Virginia, New York, and Maryland that made the difference. I am a very fortunate person to have so many great friends and family. You are what makes life so enriching and - fun.

Adios. Buen Camino. I hope to see you all soon.

Tom

The Anatomy of a Fall

Various factors conspire to result in an unavoidable mishap. Such was the case on the 15th day when heading out of Sarria I had a tumble.

The first factor was that I ignored that Rocinante's rear brake was non-existent coming off the backside of O'Cebriero. It was worn and needed another cable adjustment.

The second factor was the Saturday night festivities at Albergue Don Alvarado in Sarria. Some background here might be helpful. There aren't a lot of rules on the camino as to how you get to Santiago and qualify for your Compostela. However the minimal requirements are that you walk the last 100 km on the camino, or you ride (a bicycle, horse, mule, llama, etc.) the last 200 km. These are the only requirements.

At 112 km (about 70 miles), Sarria is the closest city to Santiago on the camino that is served by both bus and train. Thus Sarria is the starting point for the majority of peregrinos, most coming in from the airport at Madrid.

So it's Saturday night, people are young, fresh, enthused, and the party in Don Alvarado's "Fire Room, or Sala de Fuego" is going strong. The wine is flowing and there is a generous supply of exotic Spanish spirits compliments of the house. As glasses were passed, our group debated and traded cigarettes to determine the best (Marlboro Reds tied with Winstons. They also have Old Gold's and Lucky Strikes). There were curse lessons in 5 different languages and tattoos on display.



My Sunday morning start was a bit slower than usual. I missed two turns and when I recovered the camino blazes, I was led down yet another muddy, rocky, rutted, dung path. My mood turned foul. 

Making a slow right turn down a simple slippery slope, I braked too hard on the left hand. Then the front went into a spin and slide.

The body's ability to recognize an immediate danger is amazing. You know something is not right. Klaxons sound and the body tenses ready for a fight. But just as quick while the wheel spins beneath; instinctively you know - it's over. There's no chance for a fight. Prepare for damage control. Dip the chin into the right shoulder to initiate the roll. Ahhh, ofuook me... the handlebar digs into an already tender liver. Go with the roll and baa boom - flat on the back with legs and arms akimbo.

From snowboarding I've become familiar with post fall diagnostics. Eyes flutter, the jaw hinges - lights begin to come back on. Fingers wiggle, Wiggle toes. Nice. No snapping sounds of broken bones or snapped ligaments. It's going to be OK. Just a bit of filth to brush off, but I wasn't all that clean to begin with.

Sabers up - onward to Santiago!