Day VII: Mos -> Arcade; 10.0mi.

🛏:

6€

We could’ve walked further today, but we decided on a short day last night. We found a particularly appealing albergue with cheap private two person rooms, nearby a “beach” on the Ensenada de San Simon.

We reached out by email last night to ensure we could get a room (something I have mixed feelings about because I like spontaneity) and were told check-in was at 2pm. The place we were staying in required us to be on our way by 8am, so with only a ten mile day ahead of us we knew we would have time to kill. We walked for an hour before walking to a cafe. It appeared closed, but as we turned to walk away, a woman hopped out of the passenger seat of a nearby car and motioned us back.

She opened up the resteraunt while we sat inside watching a Spanish talent show on the television. I sat there crying as I watched a blind lady receive a standing ovation for pole dancing and our new friend served us tea and toast with cheese before we were back on our way.

An hour later, we stopped again at an ATM, a pharmacy and then another cafe to kill a bit more time before the final stretch of our day. We arrived at 1:44pm and sat near the front door eating cookies until the albergue owner showed up precisely at 2pm.

Before I could do anything about it, he picked up my backpack and led us through the door. He handed us each an ice cold water bottle while he scribbled down the information he needed from our passports to check us in. The wall behind him was riddled with completion certificates from his own caminos – at least six.

We settled into our room quickly and then obtained directions to his favorite beach. When we got there, we had it all to ourselves. I read while my friend journaled and eventually the tide pushed us up to the roof of a stone structure. We sat on our towels in the sunshine eating our sandwiches and watching the water.

I’m certain the hours we spent there are the most still I’ve been, for the most time, in over a year.

In those moments I thought about the chaotic seasons I’ve lived since my last time in Spain: a summer hopping from work to mountain to mountain to work, paramedic school while working full time concluded by three months of ninety-hour work weeks and then a few more weeks of hopping from work to mountains again before heading on this trip.

I live my life at a fast pace. I prefer it. I get anxious if my time isn’t accounted for, I don’t know what to do with myself if I’m not busy. I don’t sit down and watch television by myself, I don’t sit down and do anything by myself — I’m okay with being alone, but alone hiking mountains or out and about. If I have longer than an hour at home in the evening before I plan to go to bed, I drive to my parents house or throw last minute plans together. I once told a friend, and meant it, that unlike most people who stress out about being late to things I stress out about being early to things, solely because I don’t know what to do with myself if I’m early, I get restless.

I have things I need to work on, I know.

But today, I sat above the water with the breeze blowing through my hair and my achy legs dangling off the edge, and after shoving out the notion that “we could be in a further town by now,” I moved past thoughts of my recent lifestyle and into thoughts of the people that lifestyle has brought into my life — friends I’ve met hiking, co-workers turned best friends, classmates, carpools, a kind man named Stan who helped me and my sister dig our car out of the snow one day, friends of friends, instagram friends, internship friends, reconnecting with old friends.

These are things I live for, the root of my chaos. I am fueled by connection and this adventure feeds that part of me, while also demanding I “rest” emotionally and mentally.

🎒:

I have jokingly referred to this and a different 64oz nalgene back at home as my “most prized possessions.” I have a sticker obsession, but I can never commit to a home for them – that is until these two water bottles came into my life. I spent a ridiculous amount of time carefully choosing and then placing each sticker and each holds sentimental value. The finishing touch on this particular bottle is the duct tape at the bottom. My backpacking-guide sister taught me this hack and I swear by it. I’ve used the duct tape on my blister all week (gauze with duct tape over it is my favorite blister-care).

I will admit this water bottle is probably unnecessary. I’ve typically been drinking out of my smaller bottle and we often pass through towns often enough for me to have that filled. On my first day of walking, I asked a German man to grab my water bottle for me out of my pack. He laughed at me as he did so, “many water,” he said with a chuckle.

Finally, I’ve got my sand cloud reusable straw in my bottle to help me drink more water .. plus, eco friendly.

Finally, not pictured, are the water bottle cleansing tablets I grabbed running out the door to the airport. My friend bought a giant bag of these for our last camino and I’ve sworn by them ever since. If your water bottle is smelly, or every so often, pop one in over night with warm water and good as new.

🎶:

There are a handful of songs I refer to routinely as “my favorite song” (Head Case by Cody Jinks is another main front runner), but this is the song I have referred to as such for the longest span of time and the most consistently.