A Million Steps

by Kurt Koontz

  I had a blast watching the game in a bar filled with local people. The room was completely packed, and we were elbow-to-elbow sitting in every available chair. The back of the bar was standing room only. I understood the basics, but the rules and idiosyncrasies were foreign to me. Mikkel was very patient in answering all of my questions. It was the first time I had ever watched an entire soccer match. In the end, the game was tied. He rolled his eyes when I asked about overtime play.

  Before going to bed, I told Mikkel that I was an early riser and would probably not see him tomorrow. He agreed and said goodbye.

  Day 25

  Rain

  In the morning, Mikkel’s bunk above mine was completely empty. I was surprised that his movements had not awakened me.

  My first new companion of the day was Glenda from South Africa. She had been walking with another woman, also named Glenda, from Australia. Glenda #1 was walking alone because Glenda #2 was injured. Glenda #2 was taking a taxi to a prearranged destination so they could still enjoy their evenings together.

  After our first break, the rain started to come down, which gave me my first opportunity to try my rain poncho. Since this qualified as new attire, I asked Glenda to take a few photos of me with my camera. The rain was not much of a bother and actually provided a new opportunity for photography.

  So far, my luck with weather had been completely phenomenal. I had heard many stories of nonstop rain that could last for weeks at a time in this area. Instead of fighting precipitation, I was rewarded with the sights of the dense rainforest created by that moisture. The rain glistened against the darker sky.

  I spent most of the day alone and loved seeing the beautiful sights along the trail. Hedges of hydrangeas lined the path. Recent rain drops adorned the large blossoms. I could feel the area becoming much more like a coastal rain forest with each day. Not much distance remained between me and the Atlantic. The salty scent of the sea accompanied the larger gusts of wind.

  Just before arriving at my final destination, I noticed an albergue under the South African flag. I peered into the courtyard and saw Annette and Melinda sitting there and laughing with the staff. I was thrilled to see them again and joined them for some coffee and cake. Afterwards, I did say goodbye but felt it was not for the last time.

  Ever since leaving Sarria, the number and quality of the albergues had increased dramatically. Beds were readily available during this autumn season, but in the summer, I understood that often there was not enough space to accommodate the many “100 KM” pilgrims. I had many options. In Palas de Rei, I walked through four hostels before deciding to stay at Albergue Buen Camino.

  The lobby was nicely decorated in a contemporary fashion. The owner offered me a spot in a room with only four beds. I followed the hospitalero to my assigned bed and was shocked to see Mikkel sound asleep in one of the four beds. Later he explained that he had trouble sleeping the night before and had left the previous albergue at four in the morning. A nice Canadian couple took the remaining two beds in our room.

  With the exception of one night in León, albergue rooms on the entire Camino had been co-ed. Bathrooms and showers, however, were usually separate. At Buen Camino, this was not the case. After finishing my shower, I was doing some laundry in the sink. It was a cramped space with a shower door on my right and a toilet door on my left. Suddenly the shower door opened, and a naked Japanese lady looked at me with shocked eyes. I did my best to look away as she slammed the door. I sometimes wonder if this startled woman will be telling a lifelong story of opening the door to be horrified by the presence of a giant bald American man outside her shower stall.

  I enjoyed a wonderful meal with Mikkel, Fred, and our new friend Bonnie. The Galician stew became my new favorite staple, and we feasted on fresh salmon that could have been served at The Four Seasons in Manhattan. I took pictures of everyone at the table, once again recording the genuine smiles that exemplified our enjoyment of this journey. There was no need to expose teeth with fake grins.

  After dinner, we walked around the city and met up with Mikkel’s friend Daniel from Switzerland. Daniel was at the end of a 1,500+ mile walk that had begun at his home in the Swiss Alps! It was a very humbling encounter.

  I finally accepted the inevitable end of my trip and made an Internet hotel reservation to stay at the five-star NH Obradoiro Hotel for three nights in Santiago. The Friday after my arrival day would be a Spanish Holiday.

  I found myself thinking about the end of the Camino as a kind of death. Was I ready for that, I wondered? Was I really at the acceptance stage? Even with the slower pace, my inevitable arrival in Santiago would likely occur in three days. This Camino end made me consider my inevitable date with mortality. How will I react to that when it comes? The trip end, I considered, could be a good learning experience to help me in the latter days of my life.

  Day 26

  Soaked

  I woke up early and started walking in the dark soon after 6 o’clock. Due to albergue logistics this would be my last 30-kilometer (19-mile) day. That left 19 kilometers (11 miles) for Wednesday and 20 kilometers (12 miles) for Thursday, the final day.

  If Noah were alive, this would have been a nice day to bring the ark out of retirement. My one-size-fits-all vinyl poncho was one size too small and looked like a miniskirt on my not-so-petite frame. My shorts, shoes, socks, and underwear were completely soaked throughout the day.

  With the cool temperatures and abundant rain, it was quite a challenge to walk in the dark. My headlamp provided some light, but danger was present with every step.

  With a bit of discouragement and a large appetite, I was relieved to find a village serving food. I walked into the bar at eight o’clock feeling very wet, hungry, and spent. The heat of the interior and the smile of the owner provided an exceptional welcome and a much-needed attitude adjustment. There were three people in the bar, and one was my Hungarian friend Judith. Her friend Annie was still walking, but was several days behind.

  We both ate an inordinate amount of food that seemed to rejuvenate our spirits.

  Rest and food are obviously important to anyone on this trip. I always listened to my body and took many breaks throughout the day. It was also amazing how a piece of toast or tortilla de patata could improve not only my energy level, but also my mood. I had a long personal history of pushing too hard and hoped to take home this newfound appreciation of rest.

  I also had formed a nice new habit of taking care of small irritations before they had a chance to develop into bigger problems. When my laces did not feel good or my socks bunched up, I stopped and rectified the problem. It did not take long but would be easy to skip. This was another lesson that I hoped to take back home.

  When nothing else worked, I created my own “move” to re-set the moment. I would plant my walking stick in the ground with my right arm fully extended and then proceed to walk in a complete circle around it. Maybe it was the change of scenery or the distraction from discomfort and frustration. Maybe it was a sense of accomplishment from being able to see where I came from that day. Maybe it was a trick to break the walking routine. Whatever it was, this simple and effective move always resulted in a refreshed and positive attitude.

  This refresh move, as I called it, also became a celebration move. When I felt ecstatic, I planted the stick at the heart of the trail and danced around it.

  I think that our bodies know when the end is near. At this point on the trail, I heard lots of comments about pain and fatigue. With the end in sight, dormant and numbed pain came out of hiding. I also found myself being much more cautious to avoid injury. In the youth of my walk, I had time to recover. In my sunset, this was not an option. I had a feeling that my body and outlook would be similar in the later years of my mortal life.

  Within the pilgrim group I also heard a lot of worry about the challenges we all faced at home. When the party ended, we would all be lookin
g at a different set of circumstances, drastically different from the daily joys of walking on the Camino. I knew that I had some significant decisions to make about my relationship with Roberta.

  Judith was very tired and looking forward to the end in Santiago. Her spirits were high but her body was done. She would finish her walk on Thursday and be back at a desk in London on Monday. It was hard for me to imagine such a dramatic change in circumstances. I was thankful to have been able to experience and then abandon the corporate life at such an early stage in my life.

  Given all of the steps that were behind me at this point, it was hard to imagine that the end was just a few days away. Santiago lay just 24 miles down the road; I could have been there in a 45-minute taxi ride. That seemed a strangely surreal option. I was thankful to be able to spend the next two days enjoying my Camino on foot.

  We departed the bar to another world. The rain took a temporary vacation. Just like the previous 25 days, this was another wonderful day to walk. My heart opened and I felt a part of the natural world, not separate from it. This connection had been present since the French Pyrenees, but seemed to be amplified at this time.

  I was definitely in a rainforest. The winding trail had a new look at each turn. Large groves of eucalyptus trees dramatically joined the view. The bark looked like multiple scrolls of brown paper that could easily be torn from the host. The trees were so lush that I could barely feel pouring rain under their natural cover. The wider vista included streams, rolling hills, large forests, crops of corn, stone bridges, and pasture lands.

  Under a gray sky, I passed by a small graveyard. Cemeteries are a part of life on this ancient trail. They greet you as you wander into a village or send you on your way as you depart. A wall encloses most, with an iron gate for egress. Headstones tower above the earth and identify the hidden content. Many graves are topped with a simple crucifix while some are sleek marble monuments that preserve the remains of entire families. Few are manicured.

  I passed most of the cemeteries but felt compelled to visit some. I don’t know what attracted me. Death is the only certainty of life and also the focus of unlimited worry and speculation. When inside the graveyard walls, I was ill at ease, always keeping an exit within view. On this day, near the end of the Camino, I was relieved to find a locked gate. Clearly, I didn’t want to think too much about death––my death, the death of loved ones, the death of relationships, or even the death of my Camino trip.

  The rain returned and increased its intensity as the day progressed. I had planned to stay at an albergue in Aruza, but was completely drenched by the time I arrived in the city. With that in mind, I stayed in a hotel on the edge of the city. It was a decent place, but about a mile from the town. After showering and drying my clothes, I ventured back to the city for some dinner. While roaming around the area, I ran into the two Glendas and passed an hour with them in a park. I also saw my young Greek friend Eugina. We had dinner together at a local restaurant.

  Day 27

  Next to Last Day

  I woke up in my hotel and took a nice, long, hot shower. After the shower, I filled the tub to give my feet some extra soaking time.

  I began the day’s walk with a climb up a gradual hill overlooking the city of Aruza. It was completely socked in by fog. The mountain peaks looked like islands in a sea of white mist.

  I walked without effort for the entire day. The scenery was once again divine under cloudy skies, with just a few raindrops. During the day I found out why my poncho was so inexpensive as a giant hole erupted in the seam by my head. I was not in a hurry but was beginning to build some serious anticipation for my arrival in Santiago.

  My final albergue, in the village of Arca, could not have been nicer. No bunks or rails constricted my legs and feet, and memory foam mattresses rounded out the perks of the sleeping arrangements. The staff was delightful. While I took a shower, my clothes enjoyed their fourth machine wash in 30 days. Both Glendas stayed at the same hostel, and we had a nice chat while waiting for my clothes to dry.

  Later in the day, I spent some time in the village and ate some ice cream. While trying to be present in the moment, my mind couldn’t help looking into the future of Santiago in less than 24 hours. At home, Roberta must have been doing the same. When I checked my e-mail, I found a note from her: “Honey, Congratulations on your arrival in Santiago,” it read. “Love, Robin.” The short message filled me with longing. I missed her. I missed us.

  While walking down the street that evening, I ran into Bonnie, Fred, and Mikkel. I spent my last dinner as a pilgrim with these wonderful people. After dinner, the rain poured, filling the streets with several inches of water.

  Back at the hostel that night, I was filled with my experiences on the Camino. I felt the truth of the belief that the last third of this trip is “for the soul.”

  Before this trip, I realized that contentment had made only brief appearances in my life. I had been stuck in a pattern of regret and salvation. I spent most of my time either dwelling on dismal events of the past or striving to accomplish something in the future. I had happy times but tended to stray from the point where life is lived…NOW.

  On the Camino, strangers from throughout the world changed my viewpoints and became my friends. My body gained strength and endurance. My mind refreshed itself by living in the moment for much of each day. My appreciation and need for nature grew to unprecedented levels. The Camino had smoothed out my rougher edges. I had learned to roll with the punches and let things happen as opposed to my previous feeble attempts to make them happen.

  These were the gifts I wanted to take home.

  Day 28

  Santiago!

  I walked alone on the final day. I wanted to be lost in my own thoughts and to experience emotions without interference. The rain drizzled or poured throughout the entire day. While physically soaked, wet clothing was the furthest thing from my mind. I would have been oblivious to a hurricane.

  Rain falls, adversity discourages, and pain hurts. They are all inevitable. The Camino taught me to go with the flow of these uncontrollable situations. We all control the reaction.

  The miles were effortless. At one point, the Camino took me by a fence that caged the airport runway. It was odd to imagine that a taxi would deliver me to that airport for the beginning of my trip home in three days.

  The hole in my poncho had grown king-sized, which aided the rain in soaking my body. The vinyl also acted as a form of insulation, which raised my internal temperature to a high level. At random times, I listened to music and wondered what perfect song would play when my eyes saw Santiago. That anticipation, however, was soon short-circuited. It was so hot and moist under my poncho that my music player shorted out! Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb stopped mid-stream. Kaput! Gonzo!

  My luck was never-ending. I figured it was much better to fry my music player at the finish line instead of day two. Apparently, my arrival song was meant to be silence.

  On my five-hour walk to Santiago I am sure that I experienced every emotion––immense joy, a great sense of accomplishment, intense sadness, and fulfilled contentment. In a random fashion, I danced, sang, and cried. Each emotion hit me like a wave without notice or warning. I think the ups and downs that developed in my mind were due to the anticipation of arriving at the cathedral. I imagine the feeling is similar to the moment before walking down the aisle to be married or perhaps knowing that you took a breath and have only 10 left. It was intense anticipation of the inevitable and unknown.

  I finally came upon a hill and saw the beautiful city of Santiago. Through uncontrollable tears I couldn’t see the cathedral, but the end of the end was surely in sight.

  The city was quite a bit larger than expected, with a metropolitan population exceeding 150,000. I could see a few pilgrims ahead and a few behind, but most of the people were just going about their normal daily activities. It felt so strange to
experience a day that I will never forget while being surrounded by such normalcy.

  My trust and faith in the little yellow arrows took me to the famous Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. When my eyes saw the building and my ears heard the notes from a solo bagpiper, I burst into tears again. The church was breathtaking with its intricate statues, monuments, and towers. Like so many other pilgrims, I just sat on a stone wall and basked in the sights.

  After about 25 dazed minutes, I followed the sound of the bagpipes through a covered stairwell. The music took on a different tone in the enclosed space. The stairs took me to the Plaza del Obradoiro in front of the main entrance to the church. The square buzzed with arriving pilgrims surrounded by bewildered friends and family. On this ground level, one set of stairs went left and another went to the right before meeting in the middle at the top of the second flight. Behind me, an exceptional view of the square led to two sets of gigantic copper doors that provided entrance to the church.

  The interior of the facility was shaped like a cross. The front doors took me to its base. An aisle separated two sets of pews. On the outer edge of every fourth pew, a gigantic stone pillar climbed all the way to the ceiling. Next to the pillars, larger aisles allowed people to mingle throughout the church. The altar area rested in the “top” of the cross. A two- or three-story gold structure framed the actual altar. The intricate design included several angels and a statue of St. James. The shorter portion of the “cross” also had pews, pillars, and a set of large doors at each end. Hanging from the domed roof, a lone rope connected to a large silver botafumeiro incense burner.

  It had been my understanding that the swinging of the incense burner was only performed on Sundays. But Camino luck was still with me. Due to the Friday holiday, the ceremony was scheduled every day of that week.