October 9, 2022
- Route: Lourenzá to Abadin
- Distance: 26 kilometers (16.2 miles)
- Cumulative Distance: 701.3 kilometers
I was on my game while in Lourenzá yesterday afternoon. I’d remembered it was Saturday and grabbed some breakfast and lunch items for today. It’s only taken three weeks for me to adequately prep for the cafe closures (and/or late openings) on Sundays.
But of course, that preparedness inevitably meant that not one, but two cafes were open in town before 8 am this Sunday!
Oh well, that just meant I started my day in a great mood because I was able to eat my croissant, fruit, and yogurt at the albergue, and then enjoyed a bonus morning coffee at a local cafe before departing in the dark with a few pilgrims.
NEWCOMERS
One of the pilgrims at the cafe was a Spanish man named Jose, whom I recognized from the previous night’s albergue. As we shared a table sipping on café con leche, he told me he just started the Camino in Ribadeo. Yesterday was his first day of walking, and he planned to complete the 195-kilometer section through Galicia before returning home to Madrid.
He asked me if I’d been able to rest at the albergue last night, because he had a terrible night’s sleep. Perhaps his bed was bunk uncomfortable, or maybe he just wasn’t used to sleeping in a communal setting yet.
For my part, I’ll admit I slept very well. I was in a different room from him, and I woke up a few times in the night. But each time, I remember being shocked that nobody was snoring, nor coughing, nor making weird noises.
As we set off out of town together, we discussed an interesting new sight at our albergue. There had been at least 10 giant suitcases sitting by the albergue’s front door this morning when we departed. All of them were waiting for Correos (the Spanish postal system) to transport them to another albergue down the line.
I’d seen a handful of pilgrims using this transport service during my journey, but I’d never seen 10 suitcases in a single albergue! We left around 8 a.m., so it’s possible that even more pilgrims had yet to put their suitcases out before the 9 a.m. Correos pickup deadline!!
I told Jose that it felt as if the Camino had filled back up with people again, too. The number of pilgrims walking this route seemed to drop off near Gijón, when a chunk of people split off toward the Camino Primitivo. But now the route was definitely swelling back up again!
1,600 PILGRIMS
As the sun began to rise, I spent the first 30 or 45 minutes of the day weaving my way past the current bubble of pilgrims who seemed to have materialized from thin air.
I suspect this will be the new norm. Yesterday afternoon, one of my fellow pilgrims in the albergue showed me a live stream of Santiago de Compostela on her social media feed. It looked like a parade of people literally walking into the city!
Then she informed me that the Pilgrims’ Office in Santiago issued 1,600 compostelas (finisher’s certificates) to people in a single day! What the heck was going on?!? It’s October for crying out loud! It’s not even one of the most popular months to walk the Camino. How in the world are 1,600 people finishing each day?
This news just blew my mind. Were more people deciding to walk the Camino in general? Did the Pope’s extension of the Jacobean holy year account for this massive influx of people? Did that announcement even matter to most pilgrims in an increasingly secular world?
Or was I experiencing multiple years’ worth of pilgrims in 2022 because so many people had to cancel or postpone their Camino in 2020 and 2021 due to the pandemic? Whatever the reason, it was definitely changing the vibe of this walk.
AMERICAN signs
As I neared the town of Mondoñedo, just six kilometers into the morning, I caught up to an American pilgrim who seemed around my age.
I took a gamble as we kept pace with each other, and asked her which state she was from. She replied that she was from Ohio, but then she volleyed a question back at me. How had I known she was from the U.S.? Did she have an obvious tell that screamed, “I’m an American?”
I reassured her that she didn’t. It was just a well-reasoned hunch based on a series of small observations as I got closer. After a while, you just notice things that are familiar from home, for example:
- She had a pack from REI (an American outdoor store)
- Her pack had a Kula cloth hanging from her pack
- She was wearing Altra shoes, which are uber popular on American long-distance trails
- There were several large tattoos running up and down both her arms
- She was wearing an Apple Watch and had AirPods in her ears
- And she was keeping a faster (5 kph) pace rather than a leisurely European stroll
None of those individual items meant a thing on their own. But the combination of factors felt familiar to my American eyes, so I went out on a limb and assumed she might be American too.
Mandy chuckled with assent, and I tried to assuage her worries by pointing out similar signs that flagged me as an American, too. My wayfarer-style sunglasses, my Nike running shorts, my Altras… Guilty as charged!
My new American acquaintance and I strolled into Mondoñedo together and made our way to a bustling coffee shop where I spotted Sebastian sitting out in the town square at a table. Once I had my coffee, I asked if we could join him, and he waved us over, where we enjoyed a quiet Sunday morning in front of a lovely church.
Sebastian, Mandy, and I were soon joined by two more pilgrims: Jose (the Spaniard from earlier this morning) and another American pilgrim from Seattle. Before you knew it, our group had grown large enough to pull two tables together as two Dutch pilgrims joined us, too.
HIGH Versus LOW
As our little group sat there eating and drinking, the conversation shifted to the upcoming split in the Camino. Leaving Mondoñedo, we would have two choices for climbing the remaining hills and peaks that separated coastal Galicia from the interior of the province.
The “low route” or Camino Complemntario stuck primarily to paved roads while taking pilgrims gradually up to 558 meters (1,800’) over the next 12 kilometers.
There were towns and water fountains along this route, and it was the path that most of the hospitalierios along the way recommended pilgrims take. In fact, the guy from Seattle showed us a photo of a sign at his albergue last night that warned pilgrims NOT even to consider the other route because it was far too dangerous.
Meanwhile, the “high route” or official Camino stuck to dirt roads and trail and climbed a much steeper grade up to 680 meters (2,300’) in just 6 km. This route was often discouraged because it was highly exposed to the elements (sun and wind), and pilgrims could experience extremely adverse weather conditions at high altitudes. Plus, there were no potable water sources along the way.
In the end, I think all of us decided to opt for the high route just to avoid the weekend crowds and all the newly arrived “daypack pilgrims” who were undoubtedly going to take the easier route.
INTO THE MOUNTAINS
The walk up into the mountains was challenging. But it definitely wasn’t any steeper or higher than what I’d already hiked in the Basque Country. Finding our way out of town was a bit tricky, as there were very few markers for those of us brave souls willing to go against the grain.
But eventually, we found the way and onto a wide forest road that was easy to follow. When Jose and I started up the hill together, we could see windmills on the distant ridges. But they soon disappeared, as a cold wind pushed misty clouds in that obscured everything.
After a while, I pulled ahead of Jose, choosing a brisker pace to stay warm. Grass-covered hills rose beside me. Cows grazed here and there, but that was the extent of what I could see as I climbed higher into the cloud cover.
The epic views I’d hoped to get from the top were nonexistent. I couldn’t even see the windmills on the ridge any more, but I think I could still hear their mechanical hum over the wind.
Eventually, I had to stop to find my rain jacket in my pack and tug it on. I needed something more to keep me warm, and I even added my buff around my ears to keep them from feeling frosty at this higher elevation.
A handful of loose horses appeared near the top of the long climb, and the cold wind seemed to blow their manes as they casually walked away from me. The temperature felt a solid 15-20 degrees colder up here than it had been when I’d enjoyed my coffee down in Mondoñedo, and I couldn’t afford to stop for too many photos. I needed to keep moving to stay warm.
Once I made it to the summit, though, it was easy walking on wide dirt roads that followed the ridge, past herds of cattle. The views of the Galician highlands began to open up as the road gradually descended. But it still felt quite cold, and a light gray hue of clouds completely obscured the skies.
ABADIN
Today was another relatively short day of hiking. It was only 27.2 kilometers (or 16.9 miles) between Lourenzá and my destination for the night in Abadin.
Somewhere just shy of the town, I passed the 700-kilometer point of my Camino, which just blew my mind! It seemed like I was celebrating the last milestone. I’ll be at the end of the Camino del Norte in just a matter of days. The beginning of this journey — back in Hendaye, France — felt like a lifetime ago. And now the kilometers are just flying by.
When I arrived at Abadin and settled into my albergue, I began to notice more differences between the “old” pilgrims (i.e., those who had started weeks ago) and the “new” ones. The main difference wasn’t just in whether we carried all our gear in backpacks versus transporting a suitcase from albergue to albergue. Nor was it decided by whether we took the easier ‘low’ route or the more difficult ‘high’ one.
No, the real distinction seemed to be in what occurred at the albergue itself. All of us old-timers immediately set about doing our town chores – getting cleaned up, doing some laundry, eating, and then having a bit of quiet downtime.
Meanwhile, the newcomers who started in Galicia were still fresh. Their focus was on living the high life. They were on vacation and intended to enjoy it to the fullest.
These pilgrims had a loud and boisterous meal in the albergue’s communal dining room at 9 pm, followed by several more hours of laughing/drinking/smoking. They collapsed into their bunks sometime after midnight with little regard for the peaceful sleep of those of us who’d quietly retired hours earlier.
It was a culture clash, for sure. And I can only describe it as being akin to walking the Camino with people who were on Spring Break!
