Our trek from A Peña to Olveiroa, a modest 16-mile stretch compared to yesterday's grueling 20 miles, began in the predawn hours, a test of both endurance and resolve.
At 5 a.m., the oppressive heat of the Spanish summer still clung to the air, refusing to yield even to the cover of night. Despite the restless sleep, we steeled ourselves for the day's journey, driven by the promise of the destination and the spirit of the pilgrimage. Amidst the hurried preparations, a curious incident unfolded. A pair of black shorts, left on a black couch, became the morning's dilemma. In the dim light, a pilgrim must have forgotten them. Psycho, with an impulsive determination, seized the shorts, convinced they belonged to a fellow traveler we might catch up with on the trail.
The first leg of our hike led us through the darkness, the stars our only guides. As we passed the first stop before dawn, the café remained shuttered, its promise of morning sustenance denied. Yet fortune favored us a kilometer later. As the horizon began to blush with the first light of dawn, we stumbled upon a vending machine, a beacon of hydration and energy. With a cold beverage in hand, we pressed on, the morning's almost coolness a fleeting respite as we wove through the sprawling cornfields.
Halfway through our day's journey, we had yet to encounter the potential owner of the shorts. The weight of uncertainty grew with each step. Perhaps they had taken a different path or, worse, perhaps the shorts belonged to another pilgrim who had awoken to find them missing. Our minds whirled with these thoughts as we approached the next café, our hopes pinned on a chance encounter.
Inside the café, we ordered drinks, perplexed and weary, the mystery of the shorts unsolved. Then, as if scripted by the fates, the pilgrims we sought appeared, passing by outside. How they had fallen behind us, we did not know, but Apricots recognized the men quickly and tore the shorts from Psycho's pack. Following her reaction, Psycho dashed across the highway, shorts in hand, calling out to the two Korean men. The language barriers of English, Spanish, and Korean dissolved in the universal gesture of the proffered shorts. The man’s smile, tinged with confusion and gratitude, was a reward in itself. With a nod, he took the shorts and continued on his way, leaving us relieved and amused by the odd turn of events.
The latter part of our journey was marked by the relentless heat, the sun now high and unyielding. The landscape, though beautiful, was dominated by expansive cornfields and dairy farms, their earthy, sweet scents mingling with the heat to create a heady atmosphere. Each step seemed to amplify the sun's assault, baking the very ground beneath our feet.
We paused for a final break thirty minutes from our destination, seeking solace in cold beverages and a sweet Napolitana. This brief respite reinvigorated us for the last push towards Olveiroa. The village, known for its ancient stone buildings (more Horreos than people) and historic significance as a pilgrim rest stop, beckoned us forward.
Upon arrival at our albergue, a wave of relief washed over us. The discovery of an air-conditioned room was a joy unparalleled. After days of enduring the unyielding heat, the promise of a cool night’s sleep was a luxury beyond measure. The simple comforts, often taken for granted, became the day’s true reward.
As we settled into the cool sanctuary of our room, the trials and tribulations of the day began to fade.
No comments:
Post a Comment