Sometimes the longest days are the best

“Can we join you?” 

“Yes, please,” the woman said, almost eagerly.  

Currently sitting alone at the large sidewalk table outside a pizzeria at the top of an inclined street in Sarria, she motioned to the open seats, inviting us to join. 

There were three of us: Hadrien, Amelie, and me. Lizzie would join us shortly. She was running errands in town - new contact lenses and a loaf of fresh bread from a specific bakery for Pol, whom we’d see in Portomarín later that evening.  

Lorraine was a pilgrim who had arrived alone from London the day prior and would be starting her Camino the next day. To receive a compostela, the official Camino recognition, a pilgrim must walk at least 100 km to Santiago. At 115 km walking distance to Santiago, Sarria is a common starting point for pilgrims seeking the official certificate of completion but unable, uninterested or otherwise unavailable to walk a longer distance or for more time.   

Over the previous weeks, many of us were dreading the arrival to Sarria, anticipating a different vibe and crowds. It was one of the reasons we decided to avoid sleeping over in Sarria when we determined we’d need to walk a double day to arrive in Santiago by October 7.  

Except it was around 1 pm at this point, and the town was peaceful. Most of the crowds had probably departed by 8 am, and those starting their walk the following day were either resting or had not yet arrived in town. For our part, we still had another 14 miles to walk and needed sustenance.  

The Italian restaurant looked good, and it offered vegetarian options, a must for Lizzie. We accepted Lorraine’s welcome and sat down. I ordered ravioli and a glass of wine. They brought a half liter carafe. The others ordered pizza, pasta, and beer. Hadrien ordered for Lizzie.  

Lorraine was retired and was very much looking forward to walking to Santiago over the coming week.  She was so impressed we had started in Saint-Jean and surprised we had all met on the trail. I pointed out the distances are relative. While Lizzie, who had joined the table at this point, and I had started in Saint Jean, Hadrien and Amelie began their Caminos in Le Puy-en-Velay, in south-central France, another 500 miles from Saint-Jean. There’s always going to be someone who started farther away, I told her. We had a lovely conversation sharing stories of our Caminos so far, including how our paths had crossed.  

We learned about Lorraine’s plans and hopes for her coming week. She’d be part of an organized group of 12. Like us, she was seeking connection and time to think. It was a nice meal together. Lorraine had started her meal well before we sat down and so finished while we were still getting started. She excused herself after expressing thanks to us for eating together as we thanked her for allowing us to join her table. I was happy to have met her and gotten to know her story, sharing sincere gratitude and well wishes back to her.  

We wrapped up our own meals not long after, and the wine and beers disappeared, replaced with red cheeks and laughter. We had some coffees, paid our checks, and continued on. We still had essentially a full stage length to go, and the day was late.   

Despite knowing how much ground we needed to cover, our pace that day had followed the musical rhythm of a long, slow song, full of rests, repeats, and ritardandos. We didn’t seem to mind stopping, adding extra steps, or slowing down. Though we did get a decent start, leaving the albergue around 8 am, we found ourselves taking a break not even an hour into our walk.  

At 8:45, hand-painted signs along a stone wall depicting inspirational quotes prompted us to enter a courtyard where we found a welcoming space with tables of fresh fruit, nuts, and pastries, available for donations, along with more hand-painted signs, displaying more quotes and a prayer, but also announcing an alcohol-free zone and advertising the yoga schedule.

I took an orange and some fresh walnuts, leaving a euro in a small basket.  

The property housed a small albergue, a covered area for yoga, and plenty of outdoor seating. I saw that the property continued past the courtyard and found an expansive, verdant garden, fruit trees, compost piles, and a pit latrine. Farther into the property, on the other side of the garden, lay a stone labyrinth under a grove of trees. I walked back to the courtyard where my friends were conversing with the property owner.  

As I joined, he offered to make us cups of lemon verbena tea, with fresh leaves from a tree in his garden. We exchanged glances. Hadrien, Lizzie, and I accepted. Ulrika felt compelled to continue on, sensitive to the time and long day ahead.  

Those of us who remained sat to enjoy tea while contemplating the quotes, enjoying the peaceful moment.  

As we finished, recognizing it was time to move on, we thanked the owner for the tea and for allowing us to enjoy his space. I also took the opportunity to compliment him on his labyrinth I’d discovered while exploring.   

“You should walk it,” he said. “It connects back to the Camino.” 

I was definitely interested and saw that both Lizzie and Hadrien were in as well.   

We walked to the other end of the property, past the garden toward the grove of trees. Beyond the labyrinth, I could see a pilgrim walking, confirming that this detour would reconnect to the main path.  

As we began, the stone-edged path led us around the circumference of the expansive circle. Following its winding course stirred the same giddiness of a child running along a line of chalk drawn on a sidewalk. Alone, I could see how this might have been meditative. As a group, it was fun. Though starting round and round, the path soon took a turn, leading inward and then outward again, keeping us alert and guessing when we’d arrive at the end. It was clear this was going to take a while. I wasn’t sure Lizzie and Hadrien would want to walk the whole thing and questioned whether we should just cut a few lanes and walk towards the middle.  

“No, we can’t cheat,” Hadrien said. And Lizzie and I agreed.  

This was the reaction I wanted. I had secretly wanted to walk the whole thing.

A turn outward, a partial revolution, and finally a turn back inward led us to the center. There we found a collection of small objects left by pilgrims, resting on top of the flat surface of a large rock. I pulled from my pocket a shiny brown chestnut I’d collected earlier that day and placed it with the other objects, small stones, photos, prayer cards, crosses, and folded notes. Taking a moment to reflect and consider our intentions, we then continued back to the main trail.  

This was such a beautiful morning, with green grass, soft, white low-lying fog, and clouds of gray and white, appearing as if painted on a pale blue canvas sky.

By 10:45 we stopped again at the next town. The lemon verbena tea was refreshing, but now we wanted coffee. We took seats at a small table outside a cafe along the Camino. To save space, we set our packs along the wall on the other side of the narrow road. We laughed about taking another break, but appreciated the coffee and told ourselves these rest points would see us through the long day ahead.

We didn’t stop again for a few hours until Sarria, which brought us to the lunch with Lorraine.  

The buzz from the wine and beer didn’t last, and the mileage began weighing on us.  

Encountering the 100 km marker just past 5:30 was bittersweet. It provided a jolt of excitement and energy to keep us going, but it was also a reminder that our journey together and the Camino itself was coming to a close.  

It was late afternoon at this point, and Lizzie was growing worried whether she and Hadrien would find a bed that night. I calmly reassured her that the Camino provides and that we would be fine. There are going to be plenty of beds in town, I said.  

“Do you have this sense of calm because you know you have a hotel reservation waiting for you?” Lizzie asked.  

The truth is, I had anticipated this very long day several days before, and made a reservation at that time not knowing whether I’d be walking with friends or alone. I wanted to be covered.  

I laughed and told her she was right to call me out, but also offered to share my hotel room with both her and Hadrien if we arrived in Portomarín to find no beds.  

As it turns out, our friend Pol was already there - and waiting for his special bread. Lizzie messaged him on WhatsApp, and he offered to check the vacancy at the albergue. He wrote back confirming there were plenty of beds remaining and that they had no reason to worry. That lightened the mood, though it was still getting late, and it was easy to feel discouraged.  

I recounted that during my long walk out of León, maybe a week or so earlier, I felt discouraged by the seemingly never-ending walk, not to mention the extra weight I bore that day due to the tent and sleeping pad I carried, but the delights of the trail kept me going - herds of sheep, fresh fruit, wondrous architecture. Similarly, encounters with pumpkin patches, fruit trees, and cows motivated us forward that day and kept us smiling.  

We set a goal to arrive before sunset. 

Ascending one of our final hills that day, we approached Christopher, a cycling pilgrim from Eastern Europe walking his bike up the rocky path. Pedaling this stretch would have been too difficult. Conversation between the walking and cycling pilgrims is generally challenging due to the faster speeds of the cyclists and longer distances covered between stages. We talked for about 10 minutes until we reached the top of the hill at which point he leveraged gravity to proceed ahead.   

Around 7:30, we finally reached the bridge taking us into town, just before the sun dipped below the hilly horizon. We had arrived, and not a moment too late. We were welcomed with a brilliant show of sunbeams, gold-rimmed clouds, and a bell at the entrance to the bridge. I later learned the bell was installed in 2020, meant for pilgrims to announce their arrival to Portomarín and to celebrate the freedom we feel in walking the Camino, particularly the spiritual liberation and personal discovery we experience.

After checking into my hotel, showering, and momentarily enjoying the view from my room, I returned to the street and walked to the albergue where Hadrien and Lizzie were staying. We’d agreed to split the cost of a washing machine for our laundry. Happily, I ran into Pol on the way, whom I hadn’t seen in a couple days. It was great to catch up with him momentarily. Continuing on to the albergue and its laundry room, I was surprised to see Christopher with my friends. It turns out he was staying in the same albergue.  

We invited him to join us for dinner, and to toss his dirty clothes into the washer with ours in the meantime. Here on the Camino, mixing your dirty underwear with someone you just met is perfectly normal.  

Christopher invited his friend Anna, a middle-aged pilgrim from Poland also traveling by bicycle, to join us for dinner. We went through the regular questions. They met on the Camino. Christopher came to Spain looking for an adventure. Anna’s motivations were more religious. While they seemed very different, we learned the cyclists had a more challenging time connecting with each other, due to the nature of riding a bike, so they decided to ride together. Anna also didn’t talk much, preferring podcasts over conversation, Christopher explained. He clearly had words to get out, so we didn’t mind him leading most of the conversation. 

Unfortunately, we wouldn’t see them again. While we had four more days of walking, our new cycling friends would finish the following day.  

After dinner, we folded laundry together and said our goodnights.  

Fourteen hours after our start, the long day was behind us. I headed to bed knowing that I wouldn’t have changed a thing that day.