“Under the Stars”

Clink-clank. Clink. Clink-clank. Clink.

It was past midnight, dark, and quiet, less the signature refrain of a moving farm animal to which I’ve grown fond along the Camino. 

Cowbells. I saw the small herd yesterday on my walk into town and it made me smile.

The rise and fall in volume revealed the animal’s approach and departure. Like a lullaby, it was a happy sound that soon brought me back to sleep. 

Light rain hitting a vinyl roof and trees. The whoosh of a soft breeze. 

I awoke again. Back home, these are the sounds packaged in machines to treat insomnia. Their natural versions work even better. 

Bright light. 

This time it was lunar. I opened my eyes and the moonlight shone brightly through the translucent roof of the terrace. To the north I saw a star, likely Cassiopeia based on the time of night and orientation of where I lay. 

Which was outside. On the patio. In a makeshift bed on an adjustable plastic lounge chair. 

The running joke had been that I wanted to sleep outside one night. I even laughed off concern at dinner the night before that I might find all the albergues in Foncebadón full, given its small size, and my lack of a reservation. “It was still on my bingo card,” I said. “Maybe this will be my opportunity.”

“Good content for your book!” Mike exclaimed. I had told both of them I was contemplating writing about my Camino experience. 

Contrived? No. Manifest? Maybe. 

I arrived at the Monte Irago albergue around 2 pm. I felt a deeply positive vibe almost immediately. 

Outside, I heard the song of two guitars. The music drew me in. I really wanted to stay here. I entered. 

“Is there a bed?”

“No.  We’re full.”

“Lastima. I have a sleeping pad. Can I sleep on the floor?”

The host left to consult someone and then returned a few moments later. There was hope. 

“The floor, no, but you can sleep outside.”

She proceeded to give me a tour of the grounds, including the camping area. 

“Do you have a tent?” She asked. 

“No, just a sleeping pad.”

She showed me the lounge chairs.

“You can set up on one of these. If it rains, you can move under the roofed terrace. You’re welcome to join for dinner. Also, you can shower, but we just ask that you wait until after 4, when the pilgrims sleeping inside have finished bathing.”

The ridiculous part of all of this is that, while the town was indeed fully booked, I later learned that a pilgrim didn’t show up for his reservation that evening, so there was an empty bed inside I could have used, had I known about it. Also, the albergue allowed me to use a couple of extra blankets to stay warm, so I was never cold that evening. Not to mention the access to hot showers and power. 

Once I showered, I took my place on the patio. I joined the music and helped provide lyrics to the songs being played. Beers all around. 

Suddenly a rainbow appeared and the music stopped, turning into glee, as everyone requested a photo.

Happy hour spilled into dinner. The food was delicious, and the company couldn’t have been better. 

I was joined by Jacopo, Beatriz, and Osama whom I had met in Leon and was happy to reconnect with. 

After a long dinner of great conversation, everyone retired to journal or read. I made my bed. I myself journaled until 10:30 and then crawled in.

Did I suffer? No. 

Did I actually sleep under the stars? Arguably. 

Was I out of my comfort zone? Absolutely.

Do I need to do it again? Maybe 😆

I eventually awoke for good around 5:30 to the crunching steps of the early risers walking west, unaware of the man sleeping outside under the terrace.