I am at the Santiago de Compostela train station, with some pop American music playing on the public address system, and just a smattering of travellers waiting quietly for their trains.
I’m on my way to La Coruna, where I will be met by don Felipe Illanes, who will then drive me to Pontedeume, where I hope to find the grave of my first serious boyfriend, my first love, Juan Perez Bouza. More on this later.

Felipe Illanes is the Cuban-Spaniard-once-New-Yorker uncle of the lovely Vanessa. Vanessa is a 28 year-old lover of action and adventure, daughter of a Cuban mom and a Spaniard dad, who live, of all places, in Miami, while their daughter roams the Camino de Santiago.
Vanessa was one of our guides and her cheerfulness and enthusiasm revived my tired spirit many a time, especially in the long uphills at the beginning, when I was despairing in the heat and she would appear, like a mirage, sweeping the trail, looking for strays, which meant the end of that particular stage was near. She would say something simple, like “You’re walking well, Maggie,” and I would believe I could do it and keep going on.
Virginio Gorse was our second guide. Virginio is Italian, late 20’s and a former hospitalero (someone who heps pilgrims in a government run hostel), so he has no sympathy for laggers and probably laughed behind our backs at our little group of spoiled old farts with reserved places to stay and hot showers and good meals.

Both Vanessa and Virginio work for Judy, an American from Colorado, who fell in love with a Spaniard during her first Camino in the early 90’s and decided to move to Spain. Judy created Spanish Steps, a company that arranges van assistance, lugagge, hotel, and meal arrangements for pilgrims.

So, I’m on the train now, a few miles from La Coruna, and the countryside glides before my eyes, but I can’t smell it or touch it, or hear its living sounds. My throat constricts. I begin to see how the Camino gets into you. Its energy seeps into your soul along with the mud and the rain, the heat and the dust, the cow dung and the croaking of frogs. Mi Camino. I miss it already.

I write this on Tuesday morning. Yesterday, my Camino friend, a German living in Saint Petersburg, Florida, 68 year-old Tania (Magda) Citvares, invited me to come along with her, her brother Frank, and sister in law Christina, for a drive to Finisterre.
At first, I thought I was too tired for an early start, but I decided to go and at the last minute brushed my teeth and threw on some clean pilgrim clothes (I am so tired of the same three things) and off we went. What a nice day!
Santiago, being Santiago, was misty, cold and rainy in the morning, and it seemed that the rest of Galicia would follow suit, as we drove in the mist from village to village.  We managed to find the Atlantic Ocean and a desolate (we were the only customers) paella restaurant with great wine and great views of Laxe. The sun came out, no doubt helped by the warming Rioja wine, and we drove on to Finisterre.
Ahhh….. How can one describe sitting on a giant stone slab at the edge of a cliff at the end of the earth?
I took pictures, but I know the camera captured neither the grandiosity of the view, nor the depth of the feelings..

I am still processing this experience. I am grateful to all who took the time to write and to pray for me; to Gail Marshall and Linda Lewis, who supported me both spiritually and with their long distance BT treatments; and especially to my husband, Fred, for his unfailing support and his willingness to gather resources so I could continue in spite of injury, illness and exhaustion.
More to come. .

I have no idea if these posts are actually making it, and I’m too tired to do more about it than what I can do from my Blackberry. Tomorrow, in Santiago, I will check on a real computer. We’ll see!

Lean el comentario.  Es una bella carta de mi hermano.

Please read the comment>  it is a beautiful letter from my brother.

As for today, May 8< it was cold, hard, and I have no more energy to write.

What a day! 25 kilometers, eight long hours, beautiful farm country and rain for the first time!
Glad I carried my poncho. I thought it would be hot under it, but it was actually pleasant to walk under the cool rain after so many hours in the hot sun.
My hands and the back of my neck are turning a very dark brown, and I can already see sun spots on my face, in spite of heavy sunscreen. I sweat so much, it doesn’t last very long.. Not pretty! But I guess it is what pilgrims look like.

Today was hard, but it feels good now, after a hot bath and a self healing BodyTalk session and a leg and lower back rub (also self administered) with Voltaren gel, whiich I discovered here in Spain and has helped a lot!

Each day, the routine gets easier. Get up at 7, pack, decide what goes in the pockets and hanging from carabiners (metal loops) from my belt ( each day I try to carry less). Must have three liters of water, sunscreen, energy bars, some fruit, my US passport and my Pilgrim’s passport, some money, my Tilley hat, a bandana, toilet paper, and my walking sticks. Also carry a pedometer, a camera, and a compass watch. And, of course, the day’s route mapped out. It is a lot to carry, but I’m getting the hang of it.
Breakfast is usually cafe con leche, yogurt, fruit, and bread. Then, a quick bathroom trip, because it will be hours before the next toilet is found (had to go in the bushes once), and off I go.
Lunch around 1:30 or 2, and more walking untill 4 or 5. A place to stay, a hot bath, washing the day’s clothes and finding where to hang it so it is dry by morning, followed by tending to the feet and legs, something to eat, blogging about the day, and bedtime. Not a lot of time for anything but walking. That’s my day!

We walked directly from our hotel, Casa Diaz, a beautiful casa rural, after a breakfast of cafe con leche, peasant bread, three different types of home made jams, soft cheese, flourless amazing cakes, and fruit.

Did about 7 miles to Sarria. I reinjured my right leg on a missed step and had to rest this afternoon, but was able to get a massage and some tips on stretching. Plan to walk tomorrow’s 24 km. From now on, no van is used except in emergencies, because the last 100 km must be walked without assistance. Pray that my leg holds up!

Yesterday, on my way to O’ Cebreiro, I carried stones for Marina and Jill and placed them on a marker. This morning I carried a stone for Sandy, which I will place tomorrow.

I realized today, because it was the first time I could access internet on a PC, that my blogs are posting scrambled. Sorry about that. Please read the comments.
More tomorrow.
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Subject: May 5 - Ambasmestas to O’ Cebreiro and Samos Casa de Diaz

I had been looking forward to the climb to O’ Cebreiro and had also been afraid
of it. Many accounts of the ascent describe its difficulty. And it was very
hard, but it was also glorious!

We climbed for about 4.5 hours, from Ambasmestas, which is at about1200 feet
high, to O’ Cebreiro, at 3900 feet. The day was cool and clear, so the ground
was dry in most places, which made it easier to climb. My lungs are still at
sea level mode, but my legs are stronger, even with my recent injury.
Something strange happened to me yesterday and today; aches and pains stopped
hurting after a while of walking. When there is no option to call the rescue
vehicle, like today on the mountain, the only choice left is to keep going.

There were birds, insects and streams accompanying me on the ascent, along with
the occasional cow bell and the faraway barking of dogs. The mountains were
covered in purple heather and green grass. White and yellow sprays of wild
spring flowers spread their aroma into the pure, clean air. Each time I looked
up and saw the unending path continuing to rise, I would turn around to see how
very far I’ d come already. The views were spectacular. There is a most
special feeling to know that your feet have carried you such a long distance.
Just like in life: how far you’ve come is how far you’ve carried yourself.

We had a great communal lunch at O’ Cebreiro. Everyone was happy and feeling
good about having accomplished the climb. There was much laughter, and animated
conversations sprung everywhere like the spring flowers on the path. The food
and the wine kept coming, brought out by the friendly relatives of the priest
who brought back the culture of the Camino fifty years ago.

There is a small, simple church at the summit, called Santa Maria la Real. God lives there.

Did a bit more than 22 km today. That’s about 13, 14 miles. It was pretty easy terrain, gentle slopes and cooler weather. My leg held out OK and by the end I could not feel any pain at all. Thank you all for your prayers and healings. I couldn’t have done it without you.

Left stones I carried for Lisbeth, Ruth, and Vanessa Ch., on marker along the way. Carried the stones I brought from Colombia and Miami, and a stone for Fred, plus the ones given to me by Julian, Alexandra, Dorothy, and Mikael, to the top of the Iron Cross. Emotional.
Went to Mass today. Its Mother’s Day in Spain, so had thoughts of love for my mother and all the women and men I know who are so nurturing and loving. There are two nuns, a priest and a retired bishop (all fron Canada) in our van group. It’s very nice.

Tomorrow is the climb to O’ Cebreiro. Pray for me!
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile