Of cyclists and silence...
Today we walked over 30 kms to from the base of the Montes de Leon (the second mountain rnage that we´ve crossed) to the largish town of Villafranca del Bierzo, located at the base of the third and final mountain range that we´ll be crossing on the Camino. Tomorrow, we´re planning on walking around 30 kms more, with the latter third of our walk taking us up to the summit of the mountains facing me as I´m typing right now. The ascent won´t be as long as our first attempt over the Pyrenees, but it will be as drastic in terms of steepness. We saw today that we´re officially within 200 kms of the cathedral of Santiago, but both the province of Galicia and the city of Santiago still seem quite far away.
I guess this entry is going to be a bit of a random conglomeration of observations Paul and I have amassed as we´ve been traveling along; literary coherence, at this point, has become difficult, so bear with us.
Among the certain types of dichotomies that exist on the Camino, one of the most extreme might be between formal, walking ¨peregrinos¨ (Spanish word for ¨pilgrims¨) and the bicyclists who are also attempting to reach Santiago. ¨Animosity¨ isn´t the correct word, but there would seem to be a noticeable, somewhat heated distinction between those walking and those biking to Santiago. Many parts of the trail border and actually move onto the shoulder of major highways. This leads one into situations where, at times, being clipped by cars or trucks is a very real threat. At all times, however, both on and off the highway (and particularly after we passed through a major alternate starting point for Camino-goers in the city of Leon) there is the threat of being run over by cyclists with varying levels of concern for the people walking in front of them. In albergues at night, one can´t help but notice that, oftentimes, it is bicyclists that are demonstrating the least respect for the pilgrims around them. My theory is that, because cyclists spend (approximately) a third of the time on the Camino that walking ¨peregrinos¨ spend on the trail, most of them don´t have the chance to absorb the culture of mutual appreciation and shared misery that seems to permeate the interactions of pilgrims that are moving across Spain a bit more slowly. Whateve the reason might be, I´m getting tired of almost being run over by guys in tights screaming down the trail on mountain bikes, then being sneered at because I wasn´t aware (after having walking 15 or 20 miles in Spanish sun) of exactly what´s happening behind me on the trail. Alright, enough negative energy and venting for one entry.
One of the most interesting parts of the way folks interact on the latter parts of the Camino is the comfort level people seem to gradually gain with being quiet around one another for protracted periods of time while walking for hours close to one another, sometimes side by side. Oftentimes in everyday life, silence between people becomes rude, even forbidden; part of being a member of polite society involves being able to generate conversation out of thin air. When you´re walking with each other for 6 or 8 hours at a time, however, it is inevitable that you run out of things to talk about. Few people I´ve found like walking completely alone for prolonged periods of time, so people develop the ability to deal with saying nothing to one another while still maintaining physical proximity. Át first, silence was awkward; now, it´s normal, even required at different points throughout the day. It´s interesting that some of the closest moments you share with friends that you´re walking with are filled with words that are never spoken. At times it can be quite intense, really. Either way, I´ve come to enjoy this particular Camino convention.
I´m sitting right now on a bench iu an albergue that´s adjacent to an ancient church. I´m surrounded by people from St. Paul (MN), Hong Kong, Cork (Ireland), Quebec, Maine, Spain, Finland, Brazil, Switzerland, Italy, Korea, Portugal, France, England, Germany, Denmark ... there´s so many more. After summitting our last set of mountains tomorrow, I´ll hopefully have some more thoughts to add. Paul will be posting soon as well, so stay tuned.
I guess this entry is going to be a bit of a random conglomeration of observations Paul and I have amassed as we´ve been traveling along; literary coherence, at this point, has become difficult, so bear with us.
Among the certain types of dichotomies that exist on the Camino, one of the most extreme might be between formal, walking ¨peregrinos¨ (Spanish word for ¨pilgrims¨) and the bicyclists who are also attempting to reach Santiago. ¨Animosity¨ isn´t the correct word, but there would seem to be a noticeable, somewhat heated distinction between those walking and those biking to Santiago. Many parts of the trail border and actually move onto the shoulder of major highways. This leads one into situations where, at times, being clipped by cars or trucks is a very real threat. At all times, however, both on and off the highway (and particularly after we passed through a major alternate starting point for Camino-goers in the city of Leon) there is the threat of being run over by cyclists with varying levels of concern for the people walking in front of them. In albergues at night, one can´t help but notice that, oftentimes, it is bicyclists that are demonstrating the least respect for the pilgrims around them. My theory is that, because cyclists spend (approximately) a third of the time on the Camino that walking ¨peregrinos¨ spend on the trail, most of them don´t have the chance to absorb the culture of mutual appreciation and shared misery that seems to permeate the interactions of pilgrims that are moving across Spain a bit more slowly. Whateve the reason might be, I´m getting tired of almost being run over by guys in tights screaming down the trail on mountain bikes, then being sneered at because I wasn´t aware (after having walking 15 or 20 miles in Spanish sun) of exactly what´s happening behind me on the trail. Alright, enough negative energy and venting for one entry.
One of the most interesting parts of the way folks interact on the latter parts of the Camino is the comfort level people seem to gradually gain with being quiet around one another for protracted periods of time while walking for hours close to one another, sometimes side by side. Oftentimes in everyday life, silence between people becomes rude, even forbidden; part of being a member of polite society involves being able to generate conversation out of thin air. When you´re walking with each other for 6 or 8 hours at a time, however, it is inevitable that you run out of things to talk about. Few people I´ve found like walking completely alone for prolonged periods of time, so people develop the ability to deal with saying nothing to one another while still maintaining physical proximity. Át first, silence was awkward; now, it´s normal, even required at different points throughout the day. It´s interesting that some of the closest moments you share with friends that you´re walking with are filled with words that are never spoken. At times it can be quite intense, really. Either way, I´ve come to enjoy this particular Camino convention.
I´m sitting right now on a bench iu an albergue that´s adjacent to an ancient church. I´m surrounded by people from St. Paul (MN), Hong Kong, Cork (Ireland), Quebec, Maine, Spain, Finland, Brazil, Switzerland, Italy, Korea, Portugal, France, England, Germany, Denmark ... there´s so many more. After summitting our last set of mountains tomorrow, I´ll hopefully have some more thoughts to add. Paul will be posting soon as well, so stay tuned.
1 Comments:
HEY GUYS !!i can feel your energy as you get closer to santiago...well done.....stay strong and well energized for this last mountain range.......thinking about you everyday....loveya
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