Day 29. The rainbow

I took a bus from Lugo this morning. A full rainbow arched across the western sky. The bus followed close to the Camino Francés and as we stopped in Melide, the confluence of several different Caminos, I noticed an increase in the number of peregrinos, amplified also because many pilgrims decide to do only the last 100 km. I got off the bus in Ribadiso and ducked into a Repsol service station to get out of a steady drizzle of rain. By the time I put on my raincoat, the weather had cleared up. I walked against the grain a kilometer back to the Pensión Ribadiso and lost count after seeing sixty pilgrims walking towards Santiago. I was way too early to check in so I went across the street to the Meson Ribadiso.

I sat down and watched the people go by. There is a very different vibe on the trail during these last 100 km. After walking relatively secluded trails and sharing the common bond of a great distance travelled, it is a bit of a shock to meet these new pilgrims. Some, of course, had come a long way and were finishing the Francés or the Norte or the Primitivo, but most had only just begun. From the scowls on many faces, they were unhappy with the strain or the weather or perhaps only worried about their next lodging.

I felt a twinge of sadness because this mad rush signals the end of an adventure. I remember a similar emotion last year at the end of the Francés. No more days of walking alone through forests and over mountains with nothing but my thoughts, or the occasional horse or cow or ancient hermitage – or a pilgrim – to punctuate the day.

And what thoughts run through a pilgrim’s mind? I know that in the mornings, when the mind and body are fresh and the trail is new and inviting, the thoughts come tumbling out too fast to ponder any one of them for too long. Like waves on the beach, each successive one washes away the previous one and is itself washed away before it can make an impression. As the day goes on, the focus on the trail becomes hypnotic and the mind relaxes into a state of meditation. Now the thoughts can be better captured and corralled. It becomes easier to cull the frivolous and contemplate the more profound. Still, they slip away like water through your hand, so you must be quick to discern. Most disappear and are forgotten, like dreams. Later in the day, the mind and body are operating in a robot mode – in a trance – and placing one foot in front of the other is the only thing that matters. The horses which run wild in the morning until briefly tamed, are, in the afternoon, distant, blurred and camouflaged amongst the trees.

Before starting the Francés last year, I imagined myself thinking about my boyhood as I spent hours on the trail. What had happened to that kid, I wondered. What stories I could tell him about the adventures that stretched out before him. Would he recognize me, or I him? As it turns out, I did think about him, but I could not pin him down long enough to have a meaningful conversation. Maybe I tried too hard; this year, a few weeks ago, we met. You met him too. He is the boy down on the beach.

This year, I had loftier intentions. I wanted to contemplate eternal life. There was something that Father White, who gave me my Camino blessing this year, said in a homily that shook me. I do not remember the words, only the effect, and it probably had nothing to do with life or eternity or contemplation. One night, somewhere along the Way, eternal life nuzzled up to me, I think as surprised of me as I was awed by It. That is all I can say for now.

While I was talking with Mad (short for Madeline, just so you know), a woman from New Zealand came rushing into the mesón. She reminded me of the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. Totally preoccupied, she asked a few questions, I think as an excuse for interrupting a conversation, and then, just as suddenly, she was off again, presumably late for an important date. Upon reflection, I saw some of me in that woman. Too often, I focused on the destination when I should have stopped, removed my backpack (and shoes!) and listened to the sounds around me, gazed upon the awesome sights I was amidst. How much wiser I would be! That seems to be the way of life, especially the life I return to – happily mind you – a life built around distractions, diversions, disturbances – anything to keep our mind agitated and unfocused and oblivious to the one thing that really matters. We are all rushing along to that ultimate important date. If there is anything I learned on this journey, it is that life and eternal life are the same and must be embraced and cherished, like a lover or a friend or a fortuitous stranger.