The Pilgrim Principal: Our Camino, Stage Ten, O'Cebreiro to Triacastella, July 18 2013.

The walk down from the heights of O'Cebreiro to Triacastella was a lovely day.

One of the monuments I have really been looking forward to seeing is the one pictured below. It is huge, maybe 3 metres tall. I took a number of photos of it but as it was early in the morning the view from the front is essentially a silhouette. I deliberately walked around the back to get this shot of the pilgrim and where he was heading anyway and with the light it really is the best shot.

What a beautiful image. The pilgrim, leaning into the wind, essentially in a struggle with the elements yet travelling on into the glorious west. The huge blue sky in the distance promises release and rest but first the mountains. It may be a very romantic concept this walking across Spain, the movie 'The Way' certainly makes it seem like a special thing to do, but let me tell you there is nothing easy about it. I am so deeply proud of my kids, 10 and 13, stoically attending each day to the challenges before them like the pilgrim in this scene, faithfully trusting.

I have said before that this journey is a feast for the eyes. I could post a million images like the ones below. The countryside never stops amazing you, every new corner unveils a new scene. It is breathtaking.

One of the other things that is breathtaking is the little farms you walk through. Too small to be called a village and usually without an albergue (hostel) or a shop they are just little stone places.

They stink.

Generally covered completely in poo, a mixture of cow and horse mostly but not exclusively. They have stone buildings from which you can hear various animal noises emanate, mostly chickens but often cows, sometimes pigs or goats. On a 35 degree summer day you can imagine the quality of the aromas wafting out of those fetid places. Usually narrow stone alleyways between buildings and devoid of wind the air hangs thick with the smell that seems to stick in your nose hairs for about 10 or 15 minutes after you have left. Best to breathe in a shallow manner whilst passing through, feign needing to sneeze or blow your nose so that you have an excuse to put your hanky over your nose in case the old lady that lives there, immediately adjacent to the pandemic factory, mistakes your retching for not liking her little stone house and the mangy dog that lays asleep at her doorstep (or dead from over-fumigation, you can't tell with the amount of other feremones circulating in the poo laden dust that swirls up from your footprints).

Maybe I'm being too harsh. I mean they do sort of demonstrate an old fashioned way of living. Europe during the plague maybe, animals living in the barn below to keep the house above warm in the winter months. Its like stepping back in time to a simpler way of living when people were self sufficient and grew their own vegies and diseases. I must admit,it hasn't rained here for a few weeks, a good 10 or 15 inches in about 10 or 15 minutes with about an 85km hour wind behind it would certainly give some of these joints a good rinse, empty a few bottles of handy andy out your front door at the same time and the place would sparkle.

Dunno about those barns though.

Below you can see my children, heads bowed, sucking in huge gasps of fresh air as they wander at pace out of one of the above mentioned locales.

Just joking. The photo below was a wonderful moment. Harry and Zoe had wandered ahead and were collaborating on a little Spanish ditty we had made up a few days earlier. A walking song. Zoe bought a recorder (the primary school teacher in me prickles at the though) in O'Cebreiro the day before and she worked out how to play the melody, she and H were just walking and chatting in front of Mon and I. When you see your kids in that context, walking alone on a distant shore, being together and chatting nicely it sort of makes up for all the times you have had to blow them up in front of foreigners. I great shot anyway.

I think I am breaking even on the calories scale. I am not losing weight but by the same token I am not putting it on either. The 6 hours of gutbusting trudging through that Spanish heat is counterbalanced by the sheer volume of cervesa consumed to take the pain away. Dos cervesa grande por favor!