Magic Moment

Today was a very good day. Almost none of the trail was on or along roads. If it was on some type of road, traffic was sparse. I saw more bicycles than automobiles.

I'll give a quick description of some things I saw today. However, much more impactful was the time I had to myself, just to ruminate. I totally unplugged today for six hours. If I had conversations with other people for more than five minutes, that was a lot. But first, to the travelogue.

My hotel was right on the trail, and almost immediately after walking down the street I crossed the railway lines at the station. For a mile or so it was parkland, and then a preserve that transitioned to farm road. Some of it was paved and some of it was dirt. One interesting thing I saw was stone work under the pavement. It makes me wonder how long the road was actually functioning.

The fact that most of the journey was unremarkable made it so much better to have time to just think. I passed a couple of small airports, and then moved in and out of a few towns. There was absolutely nothing for the last 10 miles of my 20-plus mile journey today. It was a little warm – at least 80 degrees for most of the day. I went through two and a half liters of water in my Camelback and a small bottle of Powerade. It was a good thing I took so much liquid along. There was no opportunity to get more for the final three and a half hours.

At one point I passed an area where it was fairly obvious they had harvested tomatoes. Many had spilled out onto the ground. Most of them were crushed or rotten, but I found a few that looked perfect. I rinsed them off and ate them as I walked. They were fragrant and delicious, so unlike most of the things we can get at the grocery store. They couldn't have been any fresher.

At just under 14 miles in, I found a small area of shade. It was the only place I had seen where I could sit and take my shoes off and enjoy my Powerade. I carried one and saved it until I was in the last few hours of the walk for the day. Most notable of all, I used my selfie stick for the first time.

With about three miles to go. I heard voices coming from some reeds. It took me a moment to find the source. It was my new Swedish friend, Matthias, taking a break in some hard-to-find shade. A mile later I ran out of water. It was a very good thing that the day's journey was almost over.

Getting to my hotel took me about 10 minutes off the trail, and it was well worth it. It's a full-size bed for me tonight, with all kinds of amenities and space. I truly am a posh pilgrim.

Now it was the normal routine of washing clothes, washing me, and taking a nap. But the nap part didn't work. So, I grabbed some groceries and went out to a restaurant recommended by the hotel desk clerk.

The staff was incredibly friendly and tolerant of my bad Portuguese. I think it amused them. I had the house cod with a beer and it cost about $17. Totally worth it.

The owner came by with an aperitif and instructed me to do it in one shot. He called it "ginja,” and I later discovered it’s a Portuguese liqueur made with sour cherry and spices. I couldn't finish the whole shot and that entertained them even more. It was very powerful. It took me two attempts. I guess I'm a lightweight.

Okay, now the important stuff. As I said earlier, I decided to remain totally unplugged today. No podcasts and no music. Just me alone with my thoughts and the sound of my trekking poles tapping the path. I had time to determine that I tapped the ground 60 times a minute. Sixty times a minute for an hour is 3,600 times. Multiply that by 6 hours of walking and it comes up to over 20,000 cycles of using my trekking poles each day. I told you I had time to think.

It gets even weirder. I created a game where I would start one song in my head, and pick a word to transition to the next song. It was far easier than I imagined, mostly because I'm horrible at knowing lyrics so I invented what I needed, when I needed it. I did enjoy putting "Miles From Nowhere" by Cat Stevens on a continuous loop in my head.

Without looking for continuous distraction, my mind was able to wander. The next game I played was recalling random TV-show theme songs like Magilla Gorilla, Gilligan's Island, Cheers, Mr. Ed, and Car 54. Then, since I had hit on Car 54, I started to inventory all the Fred Gwynn appearances I could come up with: The Munsters, The Boy Who Could Fly, and of course, My Cousin Vinny.

A little background here. From the time pilots first strap on an airplane they are taught to lock out emotion. Everything is black and white. Nobody wanted Sullenberger to tell us how he felt when those geese were sucked into his engines. He calculated and he acted. So, trying to process any emotional stuff is an interesting challenge for some of us who flew. I know without a doubt there are many other jobs that require the same "cold" processing of information. 

It seems the longer I'm away from the cockpit, the closer I get to actually being able to process feelings. I don't want to come across as self-important or as though I am discovering something new for the universe. It's simply something new to me. It almost feels as if I'm walking out of the black-and-white world at the beginning of The Wizard of Oz and seeing color for the first time. 

This, honestly, is one of the main reasons I came to do the Camino again. In the first 500 miles across Spain I didn't quite get it. Maybe that was because I didn't spend enough time alone, or because I deliberately "killed time" by filling my ears. Today, I had plenty of alone time.

So, what's the big earth-shaking revelation in my world? I realized, as I walked mile after mile having no contact with any living creature except the birds, that I'm fairly insignificant. Holding on to any grievances or anger for people who have deliberately done damage to me is meaningless. The petty things I have held onto during my life simply do not matter. In almost a cathartic wave I felt a weight lift off of me, as I just forgave. It was that obvious and that simple to me, at that moment.

As far as anyone forgiving me goes, that is an entirely different story. Those might be the bricks others now carry in their backpacks, and if so it’s up to them to process how they deal with things. I do know, when I inventory my life, like anybody else, I have regrets. All I can do is attempt to be better.  Seeing in color is much more rewarding.

I think I finally had my magic Camino moment. Now, what do I do with the next 345 miles?