Salceda

It is the penultimate day of our long journey and what a difference a few days makes. The trail is virtually empty and it all feels similar to those early days back in the Pyrenees where it was just us.

I have some anxiety that the end is now too close and that I haven’t had enough time to discover what about myself I needed to learn. Sure, I have had more opportunity to simply reflect than I probably ever have, but what if it isn’t enough? People say the camino changes you, but do I feel any different? What if nothing comes of this time away other than sore feet and a long-term aversion to bocadillos?

As we pass through Arzúa, the Camino Frances (the route we are on) merges with the Camino del Norte (the route that follows the coast) and I learn a bit more about that hike from a fellow pilgrim that has also travelled from France. Assuming our Buddhist friend is right and we will be called back here, I figure I might as well plan ahead. Efe Bomba does not seem on board with this plan.

We have just a few more more miles left to our final albergue in Salceda, and from there, just 27, mostly dowhill kilometers into Santiago de Compostela. We’ve booked rooms in the same Marriott we stayed in last year so once Efe Bomba smells that in the air, I know she’ll set a quick pace and help us finish strong.

It seems crazy, but we really have almost done it.