A night’s rest will do wonders. Laird sent me a text at 8 AM saying that he was good to go. We waited until 9 AM our agreed upon time because I had to finish yesterday’s blog. When we emerged from our hotel, blue skies were above.

Our breakfast was in a traditional coffee house on Baiona’s main street. What a change from a buffet and self-serve. I even peeled my own kiwi. The Camino does change one’s behavior. It was an excellent start to the day.

Laird wanted to reach 10,000 steps for the day. By the time we went to dinner, we were over 20,000. How did this happen on a day of rest? We played tourists wandering to and fro around Baiona.

We met Jennifer and John hailing from near Ottawa, Canada whom we first met at dinner in A Guarda. This was our third encounter. We may meet again in Santiago. No Americans encountered yet on the Camino.

On our stroll of the corniche, we looked out onto the bay without having to lean into the wind. We enjoyed several moments of puppy love. It seemed like almost every walker was with a dog, or two.

We walked back into town to find a grocery and bakery for tomorrow’s lunch. We were successful. When leaving, we met this fellow and his 15 year old dog. He pointed to a tall statue on a nearby hill and said that must visit the Virgin of the Rock (Rocha). We climbed the hill, passed the stations of the cross, and look out on Baiona from the Virgin’s feet. We said to one another that we were grateful to be in good health – physically and mentally.

On our way down, we gave our usual Ola to a fellow working by the ride of the road. He turned to us, smiled, and gave us thumbs up for walking the Camino. Though he could speak four languages, English or French was not one of them. Pablo was his name and I asked if I could take his photograph. Unfortunately, he was in the shadows but that didn’t away from the vibes of the moment.

It was 1:30 PM – time for lunch at La Boqueria, outdoor seating. We wanted to go light so we ordered calamari frito. The pieces were just right – hot and crispy but not too crispy as to make them chewy. With beer, it was the right choice. The waiters asked where we were from and introduced us to Anna, Alejandra, and Miguel. They live in A Guarda; the husband/dad is a fisherman. Can you guess where Anna lived before moving to Spain? To be exact, Danbury, Connecticut.

After a brief visit to our hotel, we spent the next three hours wandering the waterfront. We went aboard a slightly larger replica of the Pinta that had returned to Baiona in 1493. Next to the harbor is Monterreal Fortress that dates from the 11th Century. We walked around the top of its walls and at the bottom of its outer walls. We returned to our hotel following the Camino arrow for a Guinness in honor of St. Patrick. We did not forget.

Our full day of touring ended back at La Boqueria indoors. We went Galician with Jesus being our guide. Casserole of langoustines and pulpo (octopus), cuttlefish wrapped in shredded wheat, Albariño, and a Galician cafe liquor. With warmed hearts, we strolled back to our hotel.

We woke up with vim and vigor looking forward to what the guidebook stated as a near 20 mile walk. As noted before, these distance statements have underestimated what our Fitbit, Apple Watch, and Stepz programs show. We wanted to start as soon as we could because of our anticipated late arrival in Baiona.

We had decided to buy provisions for lunch in order to save time from eating in a restaurant. The Supermercado around the corner opened at 9 AM. So, we arrived for breakfast at 8 AM. Our concierge greeted us pointing to individual trays with plates, coffee cups with saucers, napkins, and utensils precisely laid out. We picked up our trays but before we could start, he pointed to plastic gloves that we had to wear when picking up our food and pouring coffee from the buffet. This was the first time that either us had encountered this safety procedure. People in Portugal and Spain wear masks indoors and many outdoors – even teens. No rulebreakers observed.

At 9 AM, we bought our provisions to add to the bottle of local wine we purchased the evening before. A jar of Malle mustard, 100 grams of cheese, and a freshly baked baguette. We were good to go.

We found the clock tower in the town square and what appeared to the main church. We stopped in the church to stamp our passports. Social distancing is practiced here. We were right on the shoreline as we made our way out of town. About 5 miles out, we encountered a stylized distance marker that we would see throughout this walk – 159,130 km to Santiago. We were within 100 miles or so they say, whomever they are.

About a half mile later, our trail led us to the main road whose shoulder was wide and yellow. The Yellow Brick Road ( YBR). We walked the rest of the way on yellow except for a few off road diversions to see the shoreline or walk a path in the hills.

We had several interesting moments along the YBR. We were nearly windblown off the path several times. Laird wanted to title this day – the Windiest Day of My Life. You may be able to feel the power of nature in the photo below. Our destination was in the far distance about 10 miles north where a lighthouse stands.

On our way, we encountered some bulls in a pasture, and a pair of Norwegians who were doing a roundtrip walk from Porto to Santiago. They warned us to stay on the shoreline rather than doing the hill path. Too rocky and dangerous, they said. When Norwegians tell you something, you listen especially when one was 6’5” and looked liked a Nordic skier. What am I, all of 5’3” to say to that.

On one of our diversions into the hills, Laird said that we should do an artsy shot of us. Here we are below. I added a photo of a shrine to the Camino. The Galician is flying stiffly in the breeze. When we descended the hill, we decided to have our lunch. We found a bench on the YBR that overlooked a small bay. We saw what we took for birds but they were surfers. They were pretty good. We both agreed that sharing lunch, slopping the mustard and mayo on bread, pouring our own wine, putting our garbage in bag in 40 mph winds, and watching surfers was the best moment of the trip.

After two hours of walking, we came to the lighthouse. We were turning east and looked back on the western shoreline that we had walked for six days. We still had three miles to go. They were a hard three miles – our vim and vigor was gone and only sheer determination drove us to get our boots off.

We made it by 7 PM. We were both beat. But right on cue, dinner perked us up. We went to Restaurante Mosquito, the attached restaurant of our hotel, yes, Pensione El Mosquito. Lucky for us, we are here in the off season when those buggers are not around.

We chose to share the Insalata In Casa, a surprising combination of smoked salmon, avocado, anchovies, and tomatoes. I was hoping that Laird did not like anchovies. Alas, he took his share. The paella mariscos was as described filled with what you see and with loads of squid, octopus, and clams unseen. A shiny pan was all that was left. With two draft beers each, we were contented and looking forward to our tourist day in Baiona.

We decided to take it a bit easy today because we had a short walk to complete. We started with a leisurely breakfast. Our server brought over the platters of meats/cheeses, breads/cakes, and fruits. We spooned our eggs and bacon. It was the largest breakfast of the walk. All of our breakfasts have been similar but this one was substantial. I chose to include before and after photos. Laird had both natas. We were fueled for today’s walk.

We walked along the quay to the ferry dock. The gates were locked. However, the ferry captain came out and called for a private taxi on our behalf. A fellow came for us in a beat up car and drove us back beyond our hotel where his boat was docked. Twelve Euros later, six each, we beached in Spain. We jumped off the boat. I imagined a humble MacArthur walking up from waves proclaiming — I have returned. We were on shore coming like smugglers with bootlegged goods. No passport control in sight.

We took a moment to bid Portugal farewell glancing back at the fort that stood on an island at the mouth of the Rio Minho.

We continued to move forward past a forest of trees with example of pictographs from the area until we reached a restaurant by the A Guarda harbor. It was 2:00 PM though our stomachs were still on Portuguese time (GMT) – 1 PM, early given our previous lunch times the previous days. Beer, of course, but just a small slice of Spanish tortilla and a garlic toast. Just right, and 4,50 Euros. An excellent price given that we had ringside seats of the waves crashing into the breakwater.

Within three minutes, A Guarda harbor appeared before us. We found Hotel Vil da Garde, rested, and had time to walk the town. We met a fellow who was the crew coach for the local women and men’s teams. We looked over his shoulder as he shouted encouragement, we think, to his crew of women’s four with coxswain.

We ended the night with a fine dinner of mussels and chicken (Laird), sardines and grilled fish (Ron), and a bottle of Albariño (note the “vegan” on the back label). What an advertising coup. It’s like labeling olive oil cholesterol free.

Now safely in Spain, we can publicly show one page of stamps in our pilgrim’s passports — the top row, our last hotel from Portugal and the boat “company” that took across the Minho; bottom row, our lunch spot and our current hotel.

We’ll need a good night sleep because another 20 miler is ahead of us tomorrow. And, we did.

Our schedule stated that our walk today was to 19 km a bit less than 12 miles. The sky was overcast, 25 mph winds, mid-50s. We’ll arrive at our hotel by 3 or 4 PM in time for a happy hour beer. After a 20 under harsh conditions on Day 2? Easy peasy (we said that at mile 5).

We chose the seaside route that took us by two 16th Century forts and small towers that appeared every miles or so. The towers had no signs to tell us their purpose or age. They did add perspective to the distance we had traveled and distance ahead.

The walk was very flat with wide paved paths until we came to a wild section where we broke out our walking sticks. The sticks helped our balance as we negotiated a narrow path down a steep hill. They also helped as we plowed through sand on the beach below. I waited to take this photo for safety reasons.

We were about 11 miles into the walk. 2:30 PM and time for a lunch break. Out of the mist, we came upon a restaurant on the beach. Most of the dishes were seafood and in the 25 euro plus category. We could have opted for salads that were in the 10 euro range. Laird spotted hamburger on the kid’s menu (the only item). We were kids for an hour. The Portuguese love their fries! The salad was delicious – fresh lettuce and tomatoes. We had eaten a deconstructed BK Junior Wopper with bread on the side to have with tuna salad, olives, and local cheese that was brought beforehand. Two beers, full bellies, and 25 euros later, we were on our way with Laird’s Waze noting we had 6.8 miles to go. It was 3:10 PM and sunset is at 6:40 PM or so. We had some serious walking to do.

We made it by 6:30 PM. For an hour and a half, we could see the mountain that fronts, A Guarda, the coastal landmark of the Portuguese/Spanish border. Mount Santa Tecla is in the far background of the photo with the sheep. A wonderful walking path that had several walkers and dogs on it even with winds reaching 40 mph. A mile before reaching the hotel, more puppy love.

Tonight was our last in Portugal. We decided to pay tribute to two traditional Portuguese dishes, bacalhau (dried cod fish) and polvo (octopus).

Easy peasy – 18 miles by sunset.

The hotel staff is so important in helping us smoothly transition from hotel to walk to the next hotel. Marta at Suave Mar helped me with my internet connection as well. Without her, Day 3’s blog would still be stored on my iPhone. Thank you Marta.

We walked along the shore and then turned inland. I stopped to take the photo below when Laird asked if we were hiking over those hills in the background. I was puzzled. Aren’t we on the coastal route? The coastal route that should be mostly at sea level. What I didn’t know is that he had read the route notes for the day. I was in for a surprise.

On these walks, one also depends on the kindness of strangers. As we exited the town, we were marching straight north. Then, we stopped because we had not seen a yellow arrow indicating the Camino’s path. We turned and a woman was pointing – go this way – to the right. People must be used to seeing wandering pilgrims. Odete saved us from some unnecessary steps that one appreciates by the end of a walk.

We crossed a main highway (N13) that the guidebook warned as dangerous. A short climb similar to halfway up South Mountain (200 feet) was easy. Shortly, a distance pole appeared – 208 km to Santiago. I am skeptical of such signs because every leg of our walk has been longer than the stated distance. But so be it – that’s still 125 miles, of course, flat miles.

On the path, we also stop for puppy love.

Whether on the 88 or this walk, resting stops afford welcome relief. We saw a sign – Cafe I Museu O Lampiao – 90 meters to the left off the path. The sign had the magic word – some of you have walked with me, what do you think? Wrong. It had printed in red – carimbo/stamp that pilgrims eagerly collect to show that they have walked the Camino.

Although Laird thought what you were thinking was my motivation, he later admitted – what the heck, we can get the stamp. O Lampiao turned out to be wildest stop that I have experienced while walking.

The owner apparently loves Che. Pictures, posters, souvenirs of Che were everywhere. On top of that, FC Porto and other football memorabilia hung everywhere. We were in a shrine.

Our host made us comfortable from the get go. Two orders of cafe with milk, we asked. Yes, and then came the peanuts in the shell, tiny kumquats, and crackers with local honey. Laird was in heaven – peanuts in the shell, his favorite hiking snack. Who knew and for 1.60 Euros – the two cafes only. The stop also magically helped me.

On we went along cobblestone and dirt paths until we reached a small white church. After passing the church, we zigzagged for a bit until the paved dirt road dove into a forest. What happened to the waves and the flat boardwalk? We were hiking on narrow muddy ruts on the side of a hill with a steep slope to a roaring stream below. The rocks were slippery and we encountered a rock slide – a potential widow maker. The operative word is potential because we could climb over them. We finally reached the stream and crossed it.

Coming down the hill, meant going back up. Climb we did up a steep grade until we reached the Church of Santiago do Castelo. I guessed that we were up 600 – 750 feet because the ocean was far in the distance. Santiago greeted us. He seemed so serious. I would have preferred a more jolly appearance welcoming the pilgrims who struggled up the mountain – note, not hill.

The magic words were there – carimbo inside. Once inside, we were trying to identity the person stamping passports. It was an awkward situation. About 30 people were in the church, almost all women, sitting in the pews. I did notice two people walking up to the alter, kneeling down, and bowing before stepping into their pews. My Catholic alter boy training kicked in. I whispered to Laird to look up at the monstrance above the alter. The monstrance holds the consecrated host which most of the time is hidden in a tabernacle requiring a one knee genuflection. When it is exposed, double genuflection is dictated meaning “on the knees,” as Sister Mary Elva admonished in second grade. Years of Catholic training came in a flash. I felt satisfied interpreting this action to Laird, an Episcopalian. Laird hadn’t even noticed.

We were feeling disappointed – no stamp. As we were exiting, a worshipper came up to us and pointed to a dimly lit table over on the far side of the church. Luckily, she pointed because my Portuguese is nil. A self-service station. My stamp ended up fuzzy unlike those clear one from practiced hands of Camino professionals.

We left the church on a paved road with dark skies behind us. If it rained, we had excellent walking conditions. It was not meant to be. Into the woods we went – muddy, pools of water, slippery rocks, branches across the path – until we reached the bottom where pilgrims have left stones and other objects on top of a wall. Another ritual of giving thanks, I guess.

Will you indulge me with this diversion? Some of the 88 temples on the Shikoku walk are located in the mountains. They were my favorites because of how they were situated. Sometimes, after walking up 2,500 feet to sanmon, the entrance to the temple, one still had to climb hundreds of stairs to reach the hondo, the main building of the temple to say prayers. You can imagine the feeling.

While descending, Laird and I came upon this chapel at the top of a long climb. And, yes, we did not climb the stairs but opted to stay on our downward course.

We were now about 4 miles from our destination, Viana do Castelo, with dreams of warm rooms, hot showers, and belly warming dinners dancing in our heads. Santiago must have a twisted mind – is he the minder of purgatory? We still had to climb another mountain! We ended in driving rain as we crossed the Rio Limia. However, our dreams came true.

Even behind the mask, we could see Mariana’s smile. She was our receptionist at the Hotel Costa Marine in Póvoa de Varzim. Our rooms were very comfortable, the breakfast tasty, and Mariana made sure that our baggage was ready to go to our next hotel. Our hotels have met our expectations so far – comfortable, excellent WIFI, and a superb staff. Thumbs up for Camino Ways’ choices.

From the warm confines of our hotel, we were literally hit with driving rain and 40+ mph winds from the south. We were lucky that the winds were at our backs. The winds pushed us along while the rain hit our backs. Laird took a moment to look back at the camera. He spent the next minutes wiping rain from his face.

We continued along the boardwalk as it wound its way around the dunes. Shortly after walking this long straight section, we came upon several holes of the Estrela Golf Club. The course is right along the ocean. With the rain and wind, we could have been in Scotland. Note the flagstick that was flying stiffly. No golfers were seen.

After the boardwalk ended, we were on dirt roads with puddles galore. We waved at farmers planting what looked like scallions. I can’t imagine the pressure on farmers to plant their crops in weather like this. We got the thumbs up from them – we guessed for being hearty pilgrims.

Such unexpected moments continued when we entered the town of Apulia. We correctly identified as the main church. We decided to try for a passport stamp because the side door of the church was open. When I went through the door, the church was filled with well dressed adults and children. We should have guessed what was happening because a vintage Rolls Royce was parked at the main entrance. Yes, it was a wedding. The rituals of life go on.

What is a beginning is balanced with the ending. We passed a cemetery. You can see the tiny blue Camino sign signaling for us to go left. But the yellow sign had more meaning — alternative exit. Ah, stage left.

It was now 1 PM. Time for lunch. We ducked into Chale on the Camino. We opted for Francesinha (a traditional Portuguese sandwich of slice pork, ham, cheese, egg, that is often covered with sauce). We opted for a full sandwich Chale style though a half portion was offered. Our eyes popped when we were served. We included a group photo of the cooking and serving staff who helped these pilgrims refuel their tanks. They also graciously stamped our passports.

One might expect that every day will be a Groundhog Day – the same old. However, today brought the gifts of new experiences with more to come. We can’t wait.

Laird Evans is officially a member of the 20 miler club after his second day. He has two blisters, some aching muscles and bones to show for it but he is smiling because of the honor. The blisters? He didn’t prime his toes with the foot glide. The good news was no rain but winds up to 25 mph. Congratulations.

Although this day was listed as 25 km or 15 miles, how did we end with 20? I have found that these distance specs are usually rough estimates. They don’t account for walkers wandering here and there looking for local floral and fauna. Challenging situations arise such as the map showing a path where it dead ends in a nature preserve and one has to improvise finding the way to an alternative route. Or, construction necessitates a detour and backtracking. We experienced it all.

Unlike the 88 temple walk, dinner starts much later in Portugal. When we arrived at 6 PM, we would have been late – a faux pas on the 88. Imagine the polite but downward look and sigh from your Japanese host. Not here! Also, no need to rise before the sun to make 6 AM breakfast. Tomorrow, breakfast at 8:15.

We encountered several different walking conditions on this day. After leaving the Metro, we walked through the port smelling newly caught seafood being processed and shipped. Here are the gloves of the ladies who were cleaning the fish. Note the sign above the gloves about masking. We observed 100% mask wearing on the Metro and in indoor areas. About 40 – 50% wear masks outside. Almost all Portuguese are vaccinated. We had to be particularly alert to wear masks when indoors. I’ll add another helpful hint. Be sure to buy your Metro ticket in Porto. On our ride to the port, agents came through the train to zap tickets. Avoid the embarrassment and fines.

After we crossed the bridge to leave the port, blue skies and brisk winds faced us along this beautifully laid out beachfront. Some people were out jogging, walking their dogs, or finding a sheltered spot on the beach.

Further on we enjoyed the boardwalk that stretched about 8 -10 miles up the coast. The area has beautiful dunes and wetlands. People can walk through them without damaging the environment especially the delicate dune grasses. We liked it for its softer surface; the stone sidewalks were hard on the body. Here is Laird walking on one of the boardwalks.

Even on a supposedly 15 mile walk, we needed a break. We came upon one of several beachfront restaurants. Here’s our view just before we sipped (really after walking eight miles?) and dug into our wraps and pommes frites.

Another type of trail was this “marked” road that eventually lead to a dead end. Enough said.

But then again after we walked through the dunes, we found a boardwalk that brought us to this beach.

After two more construction detours, we were back in an urban area. Much of the Camino is idyllic and pastoral. Like pilgrims of old, one still had to traverse towns and cities.

We made it to the bridge that brought us about three miles from our hotel. We thought about what Ukrainians are experiencing and how fortunate we are to be walking this Camino.

Our Camino begins.

We got our passports stamped at the Cathedral do Porto – an imposing building overlooking the roofs of historic Porto (UNESCO World Heritage site). Finding a yellow arrow, we started down the stone stairway to the River Douro.

We were following one of the branches of the Coastal route that is about nine miles. We chose to do this segment on our first day because tomorrow we will have a 15 mile walk. We will take the Metro to the stop that we reached this afternoon, Matosinhos Sul, and continue the Camino. Twenty-four miles on the first day would have been a real stretch.

We walked along the quay passing a tram that begins near the Sao Francisco church and ends at a park near the lighthouse marking where the Douro and the Atlantic Ocean meet. Here’s Laird and I at the Atlantic Ocean with the lighthouse in the background.

The rest of the afternoon was spent enjoying a menu of dishes composed of black truffles and its wine pairing at Indiferente. Michelin designated it as a superb restaurant at a good price. We agree and recommend anyone in Porto, locals and tourists alike, to journey here! Below is the menu and photos of the duck magret and the accompanying 1997 Dao. Imagine a small puff of chocolate infused with black truffles.

What makes for such a wonderful experience are the people who created the magical moments. Here is the chef and Hugo who guided us through the dishes and upgraded some of the wines in our pairing.

As I wrote in my 88 temple blog, meeting people along the way is what makes these walks so special. We met this trio walking in front us. As we were passing them, we complimented the dog who was skittish. They stopped and thanked us. We introduced ourselves and found out that they were brother and sister walking their mother’s dog. Their mother had passed away two days before. We gave our condolences and went on our way to find the Metro for the ride back to the hotel. An early night – 15 miles tomorrow.

For those of us who live in the Lehigh Valley, we oftentimes take the bus to Newark Airport. Transbridge is back in business though only four routes during the weekdays drop of passengers at EWR. Plan accordingly.

United provides a “travel ready” link that asks international travelers to upload various documents days before travel like passports, vaccination card and test results, and for us, the Portugal Locator form. Uploading these items was a real challenge. Not to worry. Carry your original CDC vaccination card and printouts of your Covid test results and Portugal Locator form. An agent at the check-in counter quickly reviewed them and voila, our boarding passes were printed. No need to deal with more angst.

But a twist in the boarding routine awaited us. A few weeks before, we were re-routed from EWR to Dulles and then to Munich from our original direct non-stop to Munich. When we reached the gate at Dulles, we had to get into another line at the gate to have our documents reviewed again. This step was unexpected. Check when you get to a gate whether you need to do this.

Upon arrival in Munich, going through passport control was a breeze. We showed only our passports and boarding passes to Porto. We were in transit so we don’t know if what we experienced applies when entering Germany. N95 masks are required in the airport. I had to switch from my daily blues.

When we boarded our flight to Porto, we had to wait in a line for our documents to be checked AGAIN. My advice is to keep every piece of paper at the ready. With papers in hand when arriving in Porto, the unexpected happened. Since we went through passport control in Munich, we were waved through.

Keeping eyes forward, we picked up our bags, paid for our metro tickets (2,60 E). Within 45 minutes, we were walking to our hotel in central Porto in pouring rain. We made it though not on dry land.

After unpacking, Laird and I carefully walked on slippery cobblestone downhill to Porto’s riverwalk. You’ll see Laird standing in front of Sao Nicolau Church just out the rain. Remember the Morton’s Salt slogan? ”When it rains it pours.”

We moved on across the street to Sao Francisco – the local home of the Franciscans dating from the 14th C. Sharon and I toured the church before. I was still struck by the ornateness of the Baroque style on this second visit.

I had forgotten the sculpture below of Mary above the alter of the side chapel. I cannot recall ever seeing an image of Mary with swords piercing her. Can you state the title of this depiction of Mary? (Answer at the end of this entry.)

We finished our tour in the basement known as the catacombs that started in the 1830’s. What you don’t see are the remains buried under the floor, a large cavernous chamber littered with clusters of remains.

It was time to live in the present. Up a block towards our hotel was the conveniently located Institute of Port. Besides housing an informative exhibit, a tasting room awaited with a range of offerings. We tried a dry white, a 10 and 30 year tawny. The pours were just enough to restore our good spirits. Note Laird’s expression before the first taste – perhaps he was thinking about Mary whose name is yet to be revealed to you.

Smiles restored, we freshened up for dinner at a local restaurant, the Infante, right in our neighborhood. It was open at 7:30 with one couple dining. Laird had the sea bass while I could not resist the sardines – delicious and what I considered very basic, down home Portuguese cooking. We ended with a dessert pairing that the owner suggested. When we left at 9:15, the restaurant was filled with locals and a few fellow tourists. I surmised that the fellows on the walls were Infante, sons of some long ago King of Portugal.

Answer: Our Lady of Sorrow. After all of these centuries, perhaps we should add Perpetual.

During my 88 Temple walk, I met Kondo-san who volunteered to share ohenro for three days including the climb up to Unpen-ji, Temple 66, the temple situated on the highest mountain on the route. He was the most fit 77 year old whom I have ever met. Walking 18 miles, no problem. Downing two ”nama-chu” (medium sized) beers at an izakaya (Japanese pub) afterwards followed by glasses of sochu, no problem. He preferred the nama-chu because the beer stayed cold while drinking – the lower cost per liter of the supersized pour versus the ice cold beer of the medium, no discussion.

We shared thoughts about history. He described how his city, Imabari, was firebombed during WW2 because it was a key port for supplying the army. He was a little boy but remembered the flames lighting the sky. He talked about searching for food and begging in the streets.

He quickly pivoted to his upcoming trip on the Camino with Spaniards whom he had first met eight years before. Every year thereafter, he joined them on the many paths that lead to Santiago. I could feel the camaraderie and deep feelings that he had for these men. He was one of them. Every year they renewed their friendships.

I had known about the Camino but never had a desire to walk it. Here again was someone inspiring me to follow a pilgrim’s path. Was it Kukai’s hand pushing me to Spain?

A year later with Covid raging, Diane LaBelle mentioned that friends of a friend had walked the Camino coastal route. The fire was lit. Alas, Diane could not make this trip. But Laird, my Mt Washington climbing buddy, felt the flame; he’s 78. Through Delta, boosters, Omicron, ever changing travel rules, we had faith or was it forlorn hope that this trip would go. We finally felt relief when our televideo Covid testing session yielded two negative results. We were on our way to experience the Camino – almost three years in the making.