Thursday, May 29
Today was rain and rain and hills and rain, for 34km and change, alone. I’m not sure if the weather reflected my mood, or my mood reflected the weather. I took only a few photos.
Back home things change. Doors open and close. And of course they do — the world doesn’t stop turning just because I go on a stroll. Hopefully when I’m back I’ll have a few open doors to choose from.
Come tomorrow, when I’m standing by the sea at Fisterra, I think I’ll have walked somewhere around 560 miles. I’ll have crossed from the border of Spain and France all the way to the far west coast. And you know what? It really wasn’t that hard. Yes, I’m sore and I have blisters and my tendons and muscles and bones ache. But really, truly, it wasn’t that hard.
Life, on the other hand, is hard. There aren’t yellow arrows to keep you on track. There’s no guidebook to give you an idea of how far you have left to go to reach a goal. You don’t get to put your feet up after walking, call it a day, drink some beer, and eat some food; there’s always some business needs doing.
And you don’t know for sure that everyone you meet is going down the same path as you. Chances are they aren’t. So maybe you get to know them in the way you really would like to, and maybe you don’t. Maybe they just come and go. Or maybe they pop in and out until one day when they don’t pop in anymore.
Tough stuff. If only figuring it all out were as easy as walking a few hundred miles.
Cross your fingers for good weather tomorrow. Finisterre!