by Jordyn White
But part of me came because I just... wanted to.
When I first heard about the Way in high school, the documentary we watched fascinated me and I really wanted to go, but deep inside I thought, “I’ll never do that. Not really.”
Then in college I stumbled across a book written by a man who’d walked it. I devoured every page, then went online and found some more books and read those too. I wanted it even more. But I thought the same thing, “I’ll never really do it.”
I mean, hundreds of miles across Spain. On foot. Who does that for real?
A few months ago, on one of my dark days, I came across a blog about the Camino—how to prepare, what to expect, which path to take. This time I thought, “I need that.”
So I put in for the vacation time my boss had been nagging me about (I’d let my weeks expire two years in a row) and started making plans.
Like, serious, for real, I’m actually-going-to-fly-to-Spain-and-walk-for-weeks plans. Just doing things like buying my backpack and booking my flights were invigorating. I didn’t have time to walk the whole thing—plenty of people only do sections of it—but I was able to take three weeks off work and that was good enough for me.
After days of no work, no pressure, no internet, and nothing to do but walk and think and take in this incredible country, I’m a woman reborn. The Camino has reminded me that I’m a whole person with her own life to live.
Honestly, that’s something I forgot.
And I’ve never been so daring. I’m not a shrinking violet or anything, but people, I flew my ass to Spain and have spent the last thirteen days walking 177 miles. I’ve stayed in twelve different hostels with anywhere from twenty to a hundred other sleeping, snoring, farting strangers.
I have thirteen stamps in my Pilgrim Passport, which I’ll turn in at the Pilgrim’s Office in Santiago for my certificate of completion.
I’ve seen old Medieval villages, bustling Spanish cities, public faucets that dispense wine instead of water, and just yesterday I saw a tiny, old woman who looked straight out of the last century as she drove her band of cattle up the Camino pathway.
I ate my first Camino meal while talking with a man from Switzerland who’s walking to commemorate his wife who passed away last year, a middle-aged couple from Germany who are walking the Camino for the third time, and a guy who I think is from Nigeria but I’m not sure because he didn’t speak English and I don’t speak Nigerian.
I’m now Facebook friends with Maggie from Ireland (who I keep running into), and Roy from Tennessee (who keeps running into me).
I heartlessly dumped several pounds from my pack on the third day, discovering I really could survive without a powder compact, swimsuit, UV water sterilizer, or a compass. I think I’ve dumped a few pounds from my rear end, too, because my shorts are a lot looser around the hips than they were when I started.
I’ve mastered the ninja art of blister care. (I’ve only had three minor blisters this whole trip, so yeah, ninja.)
I’ve walked past a field of bobbing sunflowers with not another soul in sight. Sometimes the Camino is crowded, and other times it’s like you’re the only pilgrim on it.
Oh, and I get to call myself a pilgrim.
Ninja pilgrim. That’s me.
It’s been incredible. But the asshole guys behind me are kind of killing my Camino mojo.
I glance back and see this group of four is exclusively male, all around my age, and (I think) all American. This is such a rare sight among the potpourri of international travelers on the Camino, I can only assume they’re on this journey together.
After spending the last couple of miles slowly catching up, they’re close enough behind that I can hear their conversation. I won’t subject you to the details, but I feel badly for any female who’s ever dated a single one of them. In between bouts of obnoxious laughter, they’re comparing notes about how many girls they’ve laid, how many cherries they’ve popped, and who’s had the most girls at one time.
If it weren’t for the pilgrims about a quarter mile behind us on the path, I’d be scared to be around a group of men like this by myself. As it is, I’m just pissed.
I’m tempted to spin around and give them a few choice words, but that doesn’t seem in the spirit of the Way, so instead I step to the side and kneel down to re-lace my hiking boot. It doesn’t need it. I just want them to pass me. I’m not going to listen to this juvenile prattle anymore.
But I do give a hearty scowl (a ninja scowl!) to the two who look at me when they go by (the other two are sniggering too heartily to notice me). One guy who looks at me has a cocky, amused smirk on his face. The other guy isn’t smiling or snickering, and when he meets my eye it takes a tiny bit of wind out of my scowl.
Rather than go into a long explanation about it, I’ll just tell you straight out. This dude is hot. Like, crazy hot. He’s got these brilliant blue eyes and soft scruff all over his angled jawline. He’s wearing a navy shirt, and has broad shoulders and tanned, muscular arms. He’s not one of those beefcake guys, but has that masculine, athletic build that’s so sexy. One strong hand is gripping a wooden walking stick. I’ve never been one to get all excited about a man’s hands, but his are mighty fine.
Okay, yeah, his hotness took the wind out of my scowling sails, I admit, but I can’t help that I’m female. Any straight woman on the planet would soften at the sight of such male perfection. It’s written into our biological code. But I mentally give myself a shake and get a hold of myself quick enough to scowl deeper. And do you know what he does before he looks away?
He grins at me!
Cocky bastard.
I focus on re-lacing my boot, until they pass, then let my eyes land on the guy in the navy shirt. Or rather, I’m looking at his impressively small backpack.
Okay, okay, I’m not looking at the pack. I’m taking full advantage of the fact that his pack stops just above the world’s most perfect ass. Wouldn’t you look, too?
But he’s still a cocky bastard.
Good thing I’ll never see him again.
BEAUTIFUL MINE is a second chance romance in the Beautiful Rivers contemporary romance series.
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BOOKS BY JORDYN WHITE
THE FIREWORK GIRLS
“Like an addictive TV show where you feel like you’re friends with the characters and are glued to every development.” - SPR
FORBIDDEN HEAT
Isabella and Shane (Firework Girls #1)
MIDNIGHT HEAT
Chloe and Grayson (Firework Girls #2)
ETERNAL HEAT
Ashley and Erik (Firework Girls #3)
NUCLEAR HEAT
Sam and Jack (Firework Girls #4)
HANDLE THE HEAT
A Firework Girls Short Story
Sam and Jack (Firework Girls #4.5)
HOLIDAY HEAT
Bobby and Sophie (Firework Girls #5)
THE BEAUTIFUL RIVERS SERIES
“I loved the Firework Girls series but I think I'm loving Beautiful Rivers more!” – Mary M, Five-star Amazon review
BEAUTIFUL MINE
Connor and Whitney (Beautiful Rivers #1)
BEAUTIFUL FALL
Lizzy and Brett (Beautiful Rivers #2)
BEAUTIFUL DARK
Corrine and Mason (Beautiful Rivers #3)
BEAUTIFUL DEEP
Rayce and Emma (Beautiful Rivers #4)
BEAUTIFUL LIES (a novella)
Rita and Dallas (Beautiful Rivers #5)
HEARTS ON FIRE SERIES
HEART OF GLASS
Mia and Luke (Hearts on Fire #1)
LOVE ON THE ROC
KS
Raven and Spencer (Hearts on Fire #2)
Coming summer of 2019
For a complete, up-to-date list of all Jordyn’s books and shorts:
Jordyn White’s Reading Order Page
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