July 6, 2014 -- Zubiri, Spain

Today I managed 23 kilometers or about or almost 14.5 miles. There were two young Korean women in the refuge at Espinal. At first they only spoke to each other in their own language, but I eventually got them to open up in basic English. This morning, as I was leaving, one of them came over to me and gave me a Korean bookmark as a goodbye present. If she had been European, kisses on the cheeks would have been in order, but I didn't know how that would go down with Koreans. I politely bowed a few times, Japanese style, and gave her my sincere thanks.

The day started out partly cloudy, but by mid morning it was raining. The rain never got heavy, and this time the waterproofing did its job. As far as I know, everything in the backpack stayed dry. The easy day also did me good. I was dragging a bit on the last two miles on the descent into Zubiri, but no leg pains today. The terrain was hilly, but no long climbs.

Here is the only picture I took today, a selfie. I could have sworn I was smiling when I took it, but maybe that's what passes for a smile in rainy weather.

I started to understand today why people talk of the spiritual aspect of the Camino. Much of the time I was walking along a narrow path with no other humans in sight and no sounds other than those of nature. Walking became automatic, and my mind started wandering as if I were somewhere else. I'm not religious, so I won't use the word spiritual, but my mind was definitely very relaxed. Then an old Irish song started running through my mind that I hadn't heard since I was in Ireland in my 20s, The Old Waman from Wexford. I had long forgotten the song, but by the time I had walked a few more miles, I had recalled almost all of the lyrics.

I haven't met anyone my age on the Camino yet. Today some stooped-over guy as skinny and almost as fast as a jackrabbit passed me. He looked to be almost 90. I caught up with him later and after figuring out what language he spoke (he spoke only French and could hardly hear in that language), I learned that he was a young squirt of 67.

I also learned why some of these middle-aged  people hike so much faster than I. They pay a service seven euros a day to truck their belongings to the next stopping place. They're carrying nothing but a rain jacket, a canteen, and a sandwich in their backpacks.

A foot note: after I wrote the above and was sitting outside on a bench, the two Korean women came straggling into town. They have reservations at another place to stay, and I used my Spanish to help them find the way. Then they insisted on having their picture taken with me.