Cóbreces > Unquera 37 km !
Today was inexplicably good, because I walked for thirteen hours, it was rainy, and then I didn’t finish a book. I feel like I should put a disclaimer here about the dangers of self-absorbed monologues, but this is, after all, nothing less than a personal blog, that you’re reading.
Yesterday, after about four hours of emotionally trying solitude, I was sat outside the bar in Cóbreces reading and Hermann the German * ( * not his real name) surprised me with an exuberant entrance and six new already exasperated European friends. We had parted just that morning, me taking a train and him walking, and by happy accident we both ended up in Cóbreces. I intrepret this a good omen. He admitted to me he had a cry about our group parting, which made me like him a lot. Although, to be fair, he phrased it as, I had no one to share my lunch with.
We arranged to start the walk today at 7:45 am. Cóbreces is so misty and solemn that it had at first escaped my notice that what I thought was faraway sky was in fact very close sea. The clouds were already hustling like they had some better land to shade. And orange-bottomed slugs fat as my arm were out in droves. Maybe looking for the next slug party to attend, where everybody would wear little slug party hats.
Throughout the day the weather remained serious. It was too windy for hats and the horses were nervous. On the road, we encountered a gifted shepherd. Seven animals followed him, three donkeys, two dogs and a goat, in perfect unison like they were afraid if they let his shadow get away he’d ascend from this world and leave them without dinner. The seventh, another goat, followed farther behind, but without stress. But goats! Following somebody! Into the road! Cars braked for the shepherd. It was a very unusual party. The shepherd didn’t respond to our greetings, just dipped his head to acknowledge and dismiss us. He’s probably very tired of talking to idiots like us.
Then In San Vicente I attempted to purchase un abrigo por llorar del cielo with a straight face, and didn’t realize until afterward that I’d asked for A coat for when the sky weeps.
We pressed on, planning to sleep in Serdio. That was stupid. If we’d have checked, we would have known all the albuergues were closed. However, we didn’t arrive in Serdio until 6pm. The next three towns didn’t have albuergues, either.
My adrenaline started to pump. We had already gone 30km (18 miles.) The storm was close. Already the soft drizzle of rain settling among the hairs on my arm. We were in the mountains, it would get dark soon. But our best option was to make for Unquera before the storm hit or it got too dark to navigate. We would have to go through slippery forests in near darkness. Even cows are spooky in the dark.
Luckily we had heaps of ibuprofen, a large pilgrim style meal (on a bench) and plenty of water. So we started to walk. I felt high, skittish, like I had taken just a bit too much of a drug, like Here goes nothing. At first I was unreasonable with nervousness. Then as we walked I realized I felt really really good. Liberated. It’s a bit cheesy to recycle this wisdom, but my long-ago cross country coach would say, there comes a point when you drop the hammer.
If I could have thrown off my pack and sprinted the remaining 7 km, I would have. Fuck me up for saying this, but when we arrived in Uquera at half-past eight I thought, Oh. It’s not even dark yet. Then immediate, tranquilising relief. Every once in a while, it’s nice to give it your all, and completely empty the tank. Even if what you’re giving it all to is – walking.
cdzhouse 