Barbadelo to Portomarín: 18 km/ 11.2 mi
You may be able to knock us down but there’s nothing you can do to stop this train. We’re back on the move once again, and we’re confident we’ve found the winning recipe to get us to Santiago. You know which one I’m talking about. The recipe that tastes somewhat decent. Maybe not the one that you’re busting out for special occasions or for company but the one where you say, “hey, this is something that is basically edible”.
So that’s where we are, doing what we can to see that shinny place all these perigrinos keep talking about. Of course we’d like to hike our 3.5 mph pace, and carry our packs independent of support, while we write that next piece of timeless poetry, but that may be for the next big adventure. This time it’s about redefining expectations to match what’s reasonable and realistic.
No lies here, it was hard to stop, twice. The first was a “hey things happen and this is just part of our story” sort of thing. The second was a “WTH” we just got going again!
But here we are, life is life and it sure is wonderful so long as you don’t get caught in the various traps that await like would haves, should haves nonsense.
Over the past few days we talked about the various options like find the closest sandy beach. San Augustine sure looks nice! Or an extra week at home to start looking for houses in Silverton would be great benefit to hitting the “abort” button. Despite the allure of some of these options, none of them seemed to sit right. We had all put so much into the first three weeks of this trip that the thought of “walking” away just lacked any sort of closure or completeness.
Therefore, today we rallied and dove into our finale. We shipped mama’s pack ahead and she got the honor of carrying me, while papa took a light day. He still ate the same portions and didn’t turn down any opportunities for Spanish pastries but I didn’t say anything. I do have to say that mama’s gate is a bit smoother but I did appreciate the view from papa.
- I learned that Lamborghini makes tractors. I want one!
- The remnants of old Portomarín. The original town was flooded when a dam was built in the 50’s but since the water was low we could see the old town (pretty creepy) including a section of a Roman bridge from the 2nd century. That’s old right?
- We’re into our last 100km out of 780! That’s long right?
- I’ve acquired a taste for fresh baked goods.