Day 34: Moving Fast

The night before had been one of restless agony, the kind that leaves pilgrims bleary-eyed and grumpy at dawn. In the quiet communal sleeping room of Boente, an inconsiderate soul had decided to entertain the room with an hour-long monologue (one sided phone call), his voice reverberating through the silence like an unwanted symphony. The clock's hands had crept past 9:45 pm, and still, his voice droned on, ignoring the weary bodies around him who were desperate for sleep. One could almost hear the collective groan of frustration as heads burrowed deeper into pillows, trying to block out the noise.

Sleep, when it finally came, was a fitful companion. At the ungodly hour of 4 am, Apricots was jolted awake by the unnerving sound of someone grinding their teeth. The rhythmic scrape was like nails on a chalkboard, setting nerves on edge. As if this wasn’t enough, another pilgrim began packing up their belongings at 4:30, the rustle and clank of gear filling the room with a cacophony of disturbance. 

Needless to say, our morning began earlier than anticipated. Tired and irritable, we dragged ourselves out of bed, moving with the groggy efficiency of seasoned hikers. Despite the early wake-up call, our departure was a masterclass in quiet haste. We slipped out the door like shadows, leaving behind the symphony of rustling gear and murmured complaints.

The pre-dawn darkness enveloped us as we began our trek, the path ahead illuminated by the soft glow of headlamps and the ethereal light of a nearly full but waning moon. The stars, twinkling in the clear night sky, seemed to guide our steps. For ninety minutes, we walked in a world of shadows and silver, the cool night air invigorating our tired bodies. Our pace was brisk, driven by the quiet solitude of the night and the promise of the day ahead.

As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, the world around us came alive. The quantity of pilgrims increased with the rising sun, and with them, the atmosphere transformed. There was an electric excitement in the air, a palpable anticipation for the final days of our journey. Some pilgrims sang as they walked, their voices carrying through the air. Some hikers celebrated birthdays at a cafe. Others danced at breaks along the path, their steps light and joyful. It was a celebration of movement, an expression of the journey’s end drawing near.

We made a few coffee stops along the way, each one a welcome respite from the trail. These stops were brief, yet revitalizing, and before long, we were back on the trail, covering miles with a renewed vigor.

By 12:30 pm, we had completed the 18-mile stretch to Arca, our destination for the day. We arrived at our Pension, eager for the comforts of rest and solitude, only to find the reception opened at 1 pm. With weary smiles, we settled outside, savoring the accomplishment of the morning's journey while waiting for the doors to open.

The room we were assigned felt like a sanctuary. After the chaos of the communal sleeping quarters, the privacy and peace were a balm to our frayed nerves. We showered away the grime and exhaustion, letting the hot water soothe our aching muscles. With the hunger of the weary, we ate heartily, replenishing our strength for the final push to Santiago de Compostela.

With full stomachs and clean bodies, we succumbed to the sweet lure of sleep, napping away the fatigue of the previous night. The room, quiet and cool, was a haven of rest, and we slept deeply, rejuvenated by the comfort and solitude.

Tomorrow, we will reach Santiago de Compostela, the culmination of our pilgrimage. The thought fills us with a mix of excitement and exhaustion. The journey has been long and arduous, but the end is now in sight. The promise of the cathedral, with its towering spires, beckons us. We are tired, yes, but also filled with a profound sense of accomplishment and anticipation.