Our day began early at 6:45am
when it was "lights on" and there was little choice but to get up with
the others. We left the Albergue and walked
down the hill, crossed the bridge and walked silently into the darkness of the
woods. It was difficult to find the
yellow arrows that marked our way as the moon was shrouded by clouds, making it
extra dark. Our hand lights were a
necessity and it was a laborious up-up-up, seemingly endless climb. Finally we exited the woods and looked for the
trail to turn at the fertilizer factory.
The air smelled like fresh cow patties, but there was no fertilizer
factory in sight. "Are we there
yet?," I thought. Finally, the
morning turned grey, the birds began to sing and we found our turn. A while
later we stopped for a morning coffee break at a cafe along the trail. I washed down my coffee Americano with the Napolitano
pastry and banana that I bought yesterday at the Mercado in Portomarin.
We were definitely in farm
country with crop fields segmented by short stone walls that looked to be
centuries old. Our path was often bordered by thickets of ready to eat
blackberry's that Mike especially enjoyed.
And every few kilometers we would pass through a tiny village with medieval
looking solid stone houses and outbuildings.
As I walked along a cobblestoned pathway, I peered inside the dark barn
to see a line of dairy cows chowing down their breakfast of hay. Most villages were full of flowers blooming
in window boxes or in pots in front of the house. Side gardens were full of vegetables. 
As I walked, I saw familiar faces
from yesterday and met some new folks including Irene from Sydney, Australia. She's a petite lady and has a natural fast
pace to her walk. Irene's age is hard
for me to peg. She's not a youngster and
has a conservative and grandmotherly
appearance. Later, when I saw her
without her hat, I noticed her short
straight blond hair with highlights of purple in her front bangs. Perhaps she's not so conservative. Irene said she became interested in the
Camino after watching an Australian documentary that chronicled a number of individuals
walking the way. She was candid to share
that she went through a long period caring for her terminally sick mother and
while she loved her mother dearly, she came to resent all the burden that was placed
upon her. She said she hoped the Camino
would clear her mind and help to refocus her life. "We won't really know what we'll get
from the Camino until we return to our regular life," she added.
Our day of walking concluded
about 2:15pm in the town of Palas De Rei.
We travelled about 15 miles, a challenging day for us. Mike developed a small
blister on his toe and my feet are tender. Mike suggested an albergue, the Buen
Camino and as we checked-in, there sat the Defendis brothers having lunch.
After all that walking it was
time for a Estrella Galicia, the local brew.
We ordered at the cafe and the barman who spoke little English ask if we
wanted a large or a small. Pat answered
mucho size and the man smiled and gave a hand gesture as if he were swimming. The beer was cold and tasted extra good. Pat and Mike had two. For me it was one, but it was good swimming.
That evening on
the patio outside the Albergue I met Mick from Ireland. You couldn't meet a person more Irish than
Mick. He began his Camino about three
weeks ago in Saint Jean. "There
were twenty-two of us and now we're down to four; Elaine and Vicki from Australia and Quan from
Korea," he said in his thick Irish brogue. "Your gonna have some
casualties," he added. Mick is 58
and a postman by trade. He thinks he'll
retire in a year or so, but "I'm not letting them know when," he
added. As the sun went down and the young
Spanish children ran around Palas De Rei's central plaza, I learned a lot about
Mick. He is certainly a
conversationalist. Mick has a spiritual philosophy about life and talked about
the importance of giving back. "You can't just be a taker", he
said. Mick is an AA vet and has been off
the juice for twenty-seven years. As proof, he showed me his ring. Mick seemed to be having the time of his
life. "I got Quan off cigarettes
and I'm helping Elaine and Vicki through the Camino," he said. "I've been planning this trip for the
last 27 years," he added. I asked
Mick about Mary Black, an Irish singer that I follow. He knew all about Mary, her sister Frances
and the Black Family. He went on to
mention Jimmy McCarthy, a writer of many of Mary Black's songs. Then, out of his shirt pocket, Mick pulled a
harmonica and played a few bars of a song. "Do you know that song," he asked?
Of course, it was one of Mary Black's songs. Mick finished the song and I asked him to play
one more. He played "How Great Thou
Art," a fitting end to a nice Sunday evening.
He dedicated the song to my wife, Kim.
.JPG)
Mick from Ireland
