As Paredes (Spain) | It Is Not the Mountain - Day 116

This picture is from the festival in Lourenzá during the Fabada Festival yesterday. The band playing great music stands behind the vendor selling Fabada stew.

Day 31 takes me from Mondoñedo to As Paredes. The 19 km (12 mi) stage is a steep ascent to 697 m (2,287 ft), the highest point on the Camino del Norte.

I can't wait to get out of the Albergue when the morning comes. Unfortunately, last night was not my night. My bed was along the hallway, where people paraded all night to reach the bathroom. Despite my eagerness to leave, I am still one of the last Peregrinos out the door. I spend time downstairs eating and stretching before finally walking out. I head to the gas station across the street and grab a small pineapple juice and donut to top off my breakfast.

The clouds are heavy this morning, and most of the mountain is trapped behind the fog.

The climb begins steadily once I leave the Albergue. I check my progress and am already 6 km (4 mi) into the gradual ascent. Despite my lack of sleep, I feel great. It's me, the Camino, and the mountain this morning. There is not another soul in sight. I pause briefly for a photo when I cross a cairn announcing 150 km (93 mi) to go. The end is near. As you can see, I've also ditched my grey shirt and now sport a bright blue one. My new shirt also breathes better.

The mountain is socked in this morning. I stop only briefly for the occasional photo and notice I have not stopped since I left the Albergue. I'm now 10 km (7 mi) in. The mountain starts to give me what it has stored up.

I finally break out of the clouds and see the dense fog sitting above the trees below me. Shortly after this picture, the mountain gets steeper. I look further up the road and notice a fork in the road. On the right, the climb tapers off. To the left, the road climbs again. I start talking out loud to the mountain. I really hope you take me up and left. Don't you dare quit on me now? I am just getting going.

The Camino makes a hard left. Perfect! When I round the corner, the intensity of my steps increases. I start breathing hard and deep with intention. Everything is working in unison. My breath drives my feet as I inhale and exhale loudly. Come on, mountain, give me your best. This can't be all you have left! The climb continues. I am unphased. The steeper it gets, the harder my steps become. I feel fantastic! The mountain is not winning this morning. I continue to talk to the mountain. Come on, this can't be all you have.

I am alone on the mountain. I am surprised that I have not seen a single Peregrino yet. I am cruising up the mountain. I continue to inhale air like a blower on a high-performance sports car. My breathing is steady, deep, and strong. My footsteps are solid and heavy. All I see is the road in front of me. I am laser-focused on this ascent. Every part of me is here at this moment.

Then the mountain yields. I notice the climb is starting to round out, and the surrounding mountain tops are finally visible. You have nothing left to give mountain, I say as I laugh. I know you have nothing left. My feet are still marching uphill with force. Come on, mountain, I dare you to give me everything you have left! Finally, despite my dare, the incline begins to level off. You are done! You have nothing left to give me. As I crest the top, I scream loudly, "Fuck Yeah!" as I raise my hands over my head like a champion. Then I notice all the energy inside of me dissipates. I can feel the gentleness of the morning returning to me.

I look around and notice the beauty of the surrounding landscape. The fog is behind me, and the wind turbines are quiet and inactive. The morning sun is soft and gentle, matching the beauty of the rolling hills I see.

I traverse the mountain ridge and enjoy the beauty and the solitude. I am entirely immersed in the day.

Around 15 km (9.5 mi) into the stage, I begin a gradual descent. In the distance, I can see more fog lingering in the valley. I am surprised not to see a single other Peregrino this morning. Perhaps, I am the only one that took on the mountain? I remember that there is an alternate route that bypasses the mountain. Nevertheless, I wanted the challenge and enjoyed every moment of it.

The trail is lovely today. Hardly any pavement, and this part winds through mature trees and stone walls.

This abandoned red building catches my eye as it reflects the morning sunlight. The sun has finally broken through the morning fog and it feels terrific. This side of the mountain is lovely. Mature native trees dominate the landscape. Exotic Eucalyptus plantations are few and far between.  

As I near the end, I feel my heart is happy and am grounded again in my own Camino. This morning's solitude gives me time to reflect on my struggles yesterday and the beauty of this wonderful day. I made the right call to shorten my kilometers. I have no deadline. I was getting swept away in a wave of Peregrinos and driven by artificial timelines. It feels incredible to be here today.

About 1 km (0.7 mi) from the Albergue, I encounter a couple of Peregrinos sitting in the shade along the trail. Kurt and Janet, his mom, began walking the Camino about 10 days ago. "I won't do much more than 20 km (14.5 mi) per day," says Kurt, who is fit and in his 30s. "We got passed by a lady yesterday doing 50 km (31 mi) in one day. She was almost running," says Janet. That is insane, I say. Why? "I respect people that do the Camino fast," says Kurt. Yeah, but they are a dime a dozen. Everyone wants to "beat" the Camino, I say. Few people take longer than the 35 recommended days. I have a friend from Madrid, who did in 28 days from Irun, I say as I shake my head. "Yeah, I think people that go that fast miss out on the Camino," says Kurt. I think Kurt is correct, and hearing him say that reaffirms my decision. I say, yep, I think 20-25 km is ideal.

Kurt and Janet are from the Vancouver area in Canada. I am surprised by how many Canadians I have met in the last few days. I bid farewell to Kurt and Janet and let them enjoy their lunch. Shortly after, I pass this beautiful spider web with an orb spider at the center. The web is still wet from the morning dew.

The Albergue is lovely and a top-rated stay on the Camino del Norte. I am the first to arrive around 1130 am. After cleaning up, I spend the afternoon basking in the sun with the other Peregrinos while our host prepares dinner. 

Dinner is served at 8 pm and starts with a peppery lentil stew. I have eaten lentils before, but never in a stew until the Camino. This is the second time, and I love it! I make a note for myself that I need to prepare it in the future. The main meal is freshly baked tortilla de patatas, a local favorite in Spain. It is a Spanish-style dense omelet that is more cheesy and full of potatoes than egg. Desert is rice with milk, a type of basic pudding. The meal is quite lovely, and everyone leaves full. 

This was a great day! Just what I needed to reconnect with my Camino. I feel grounded again. I recall a quote by Edmund Hillary, the great mountaineer, "It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves." Emotional challenges are always the most difficult to conquer. I was blessed to have the mountain this morning. It was a vehicle to help me connect with myself and my experience. Everything is falling into place now.

I lean further into my decision to let go and text the group ahead of me that I will not be rejoining them before the end of the Camino. I decided to slow down and avoid stages of 30 km (19 mi) in length. Cami and Celine are heartbroken, but they understand. Ivo and Lap are now two full days ahead of me. As I sit and reflect on the day, I notice that I crave solitude on the Camino. I have had short stints but significantly few long stretches. Today was the first day I did not encounter someone till the end of the stage. I am looking forward to walking alone for the next several days. I am not sure why but I feel this is important to do. I remember thinking I would find solitude at the beginning of the Camino. Instead, I found amazing people and friendships. The Camino del Norte will merge with Camino Frances in several days, and it will be difficult to find solitude then if I don't take advantage of it now. I expect to see between 1,000 to 1,500 Peregrinos on the Frances. I've only seen a few hundred on the Del Norte. I've read that this merger is usually an emotional moment for those traveling the Del Norte. I'll see how I feel about it in a few days.