Always look after your feet

My former father-in-law, Norm Adams, was a character. Born in Winnipeg in1902, he was a veteran of WW1. According to reports he was mature for his age, forged his mother's signature when he was 13 saying that he was 16, and ended up in the trenches in France.

"Always look after you feet" he would admonish. I have thought about him a lot in the last 13 days and I would have liked to ask him specifically what that "looking after" entailed. Alas, he is long gone, so I had to do the best I could.

I thought I could remember something about, "Keep your feet dry." Dryness I felt was essential. I started out with my hiking shoes...well broken-in...with good socks changed every 3 hours. This treatment was the notion of the proprietor of Williams extra-wide shoes on Queen Street who sold me the shoes. My feet decided to heat up and act like they had been placed in an oven. At 3 hour intervals I would take damp shoes and soggy socks off, try to find some cool water, dry and powder them, put on clean dry socks and go again.

Finally, I switched to my sandals which I brought as back-up and have stuck with them. On gravel paths little stones sometimes sneak in but I have developed a few hippity hops that sometime work. The little smooth stones provide a little free reflexology treatment. Sharp persistent stones demand removal of the sandal. My feet stay cool...and I am pleased to announce...after 280 km absolutely blister-free.

 

 

I am in love with my feet. Like many folks, I have denigrated certain of my body parts. In my case this has included my feet. They are big. Number 10s, the same size as Jacqueline Kennedy, a fact that helped me survive adolescence. Today I rejoice in my feet that are taking me comfortably on this great journey. I am in awe of their brave survival of my obese phase.

Norm was right, "Always look after your feet."

Bread...there's a lot to think about

I walked today through the yellow stubble fields that reminded me of my childhood. The grain harvest already completed, the fields lay quiet. Even the soil itself seemed familiar, grayish-brown and dusty when dry...not that showy red or black soil...just good plain honest soil that will grow anything.

The central high plains in Spain fed a lot of the Roman Empire. Does bread allow empire and exploitation. Do cheap carbs create political and social imbalances. As you can surmise, I have a lot of time to think.

Bread seems so universal, so essential...yet to folks like me...a substance to be watched. When bread is presented at home, my mind always asked the question,"Is it worth it?"

In Spain they love their pane (pronounced pan eh). It is always white. It dominates the sandwich. It dries out quickly and they fry it up and make it into garlic soup. Yes, bread is a substance to be watched.

I climbed a steep hill to get this photo of the grain fields.

At the top I looked pretty sweaty.

 

A Spanish farmer tills his field.

I am off to the next town and I will try to make a sensible decision regarding lunch. If I choose a sandwich...open face.

Les Canadiens

Yesterday I left Burgos at 5:58 and at 2:01 arrived in Hostanas....my best walking day ever. I am really getting stronger, however I am a slower walker than most. Upon arrival, there were no more bunks left in the dorm. Luckily there was a private room with 3 single beds with sheets and blankets.

Suzanne is a retired lieutenant colonel with the Canadian armed forces.

 

Ivan from Quebec, also retired used to write curriculum for the Quebec ministry of education.

I feel like my walking really improving. Who could have known that there was so much to know about something so basic as walking.

I am loving this experience.

Burgos opens its arms

Today my fellow pilgrim, Jeanette from Denmark, struggled into Burgos. Jeanete injured her foot and needed rest. The plan was to find an albergue, a pilgrim dorm, and ask for her to be allowed to stay for a few days. Usually pilgrims are required to stay only one night and move along by 8 am.

We are comfortably installed In a special albergue which has been a pilgrim hospital since 1466. We just stumbled in, not even knowing that it was absolutely what we needed. Jeanette now has a home for a few days and I go on to new adventures in the morning.

 

This afternoon I visited the mighty Burgos cathedral

At the gate of judgement the good and wicked are appropriately placed. The decision appears to be pending on me.

There is a modern painting of EL CID who is buried in the cathedral in the central place of honour. According to Hollywood, he led his troops on horseback even though he was already dead. He had some help from a contraption that kept him sitting up straight in the saddle.

Tomorrow I set out on my own camino again. I am now on the high flat meseta and I hope to burn up the next section quickly. My body is feeling is stronger than it ever has in my whole life.

800 000 years of HISTORY

Yesterday I passed thru Atapuerca, where anthropologists have recently discovered the oldest sample of humanoid remains.

There was a central hill with a 360 degree view surrounded by stone caves. if those stones could talk, what tales they could tell. today I am in Burgos where the museum has lots of artifacts.

Last night I stayed in a tiny village of perhaps 20 houses. It is called Ages and is just east of Burgos. The pilgrims gathered for supper. I hope those hominids of 800 000 years ago sometimes had as much fun as we did. Represented at the table were Ireland, Belgium, France, Spain, Hungary, Germany, Switzerland and Canada.

 

Persistent plodding pays off...so does laughing with friends

After the blistering heat of yesterday, my new friend from Denmark came up with the idea that we would get up early, eat protein for breakfast and hit the camino by 6 or 6:30 in the cool darkness. That is just what we did, walking up hill for 3 or 4 km. The stars and half moon guided our way. I do puff a little but I have found a pace that allows me to keep going. I am always overwhelmed with gratitude that I can do it all...what with atrial fib treatment and the bariatric surgery that has helped me lose 100 pounds or more, I believe that I truly understand the meaning of grace. I decided to ask Joanie to call my doctors and tell them about my current accomplishment of walking 194 km in 9 days.

Chatting with new friends and listening to their stories make the trail seem shorter.

Miguel, a spanish aero engineer currently working in Zurich, was a fine walking companion this morning. Behind us on the ground, was a circular stone spiral maze. Why do we humans like to pick up stones and rearrange them?

Jean-Francois from Quebec, Jeanette from Denmark, and I enjoyed a game today as we walked along. We call it TRUE OR FALSE. One person tells a story about their lives and when finished the others guess whether it was fact or fiction. Today I felt like I was a character from Canterbury Tales.

A pilgrim travels on her stomach

Today i suffered tourist tummy and although i felt fine at departure, I walked only 12 km, I arrived in bad shape...weak, dehydrated, dripping in 35 degree heat. Interestingly enough, the presenting symptoms included feeling cold and shivery. A camino angel appeared in the form of Jeanete, a Danish nursery school teacher and she just took over the way moms do. In no time, I had dry clothes, blankets, water, Imodium, rice crackers and rest. My recovery was fast and thorough. She decreed that we needed to cook food that would make is strong and we did. Enough of this Spanish restaurant food, she declared.

Tuna and eggs for protein

Olives for salt

Gazpacho and tomatoes for vitamins

Red Rioja for strength

There is a saying that the camino will provide....both challenges and supports. The support amongst the pilgrims is inspiring. Greeting one another is absolutely universally practiced with the phrase, Buen Camino, even by the bicyclist pilgrims who come roaring past from behind. One of my little worries has been over getting sick and now I feel that oodles of support.