One of the things we think we’re good at, as a couple, is problem-solving. Unfortunately, to do this thing we’re good at, there needs to be a problem!

Jane’s had a lot of challenges with her feet on this trip. A painful heel threatened the entire trip back in Burgos on day five. She got new shoes and nursed herself through to where it isn’t too bad anymore. Then there were blisters. Again, nursed along.

But for the last couple of days, two of her toes have become really painful. It made walking miserable. Since we are now in the mountains, there are lots of ups and downs that exacerbate the problem.

Yesterday at mile 10 of 14, she said, “I can’t do four more miles!” It was easy to get a cab for the short hop to our lodging. Lori continued walking and was with Jane again before too long.

Now, let’s add a weather forecast calling for rain for at least a week!

So, what about today–and the remaining 10 days of our trip?

We ran through all our options. The most extreme being calling it quits and coming home together immediately or, similarly sad, Jane going home and Lori staying. On the other extreme, Jane trying to power through the pain.

We settled on a middle course, take it one day at a time and reassess each day. Start with two days, minimum, of Jane staying off her feet. Lori keeps walking (presumably in raingear) while Jane gets transport from one place to the next.

This means we both have to be gutsy enough to negotiate being in a foreign place by ourselves for part of each day. It’s all very familiar to us by now, so it’s not that scary, but we do like being together and are good helpmates, so it’s sad to try ‘going it alone’ a bit.

All our readers know Jane and how strong, competent, and successful she is. It was hard for her to say, “I can’t do this as planned.” Especially after seeing hundreds of people happily trekking along, she felt a little like she was failing.

But Jane’s realizing that her goal is to get to Santiago, healthy, with Lori. Plans need to be adjusted to achieve that goal.

Well, we go down to breakfast this morning and join four other pilgrims — a couple from Texas and two men, one also from Texas and one from Australia, who are each walking solo.

Jane announces, somewhat sheepishly, that she’s taking a cab.

Aussie solo man: “I twisted my knee on the first day, and it’s getting harder to go downhill now. I’m taking loads of Ibuprofen every day. I’m going to take a cab too! We can share.” (He just started in León, a week ago.)

American solo man from Texas: “I’ve got shin splints, I think I’ll join you.”

Wife of couple from the Lone Star State: “I can’t wait for this to be over! I only agreed to come because my husband wanted to do it!”

So there’s some solace to be had in realizing we aren’t the only ones struggling! And Jane and the guys reached our next stop conversing all the way in the cab….

Jane grew up with John Deere tractors. Her Grandpa, A. E. Berg, worked for John Deere. The first vehicle Jane learned to drive was Grandpa’s 1958 JD 430 utility tractor.

She mentions this for two reasons: seeing JD tractors on the Camino reminds Jane of home, and Jane tends towards homesickness on long trips like this one (5 weeks).

But the inverse is true, as well. Seeing JD tractors (and Massey Fergusons and Internationals, too) is a visible reminder of the connections we have between countries and across the miles. That notion, and those tractors, bring a smile to a sometimes homesick heart.

Herewith, besides all those medieval castles and cathedrals you’ve seen via this blog, view a collection of some of our John Deere tractor sightings over the past three weeks:

You can practice mindfulness laying on a yoga mat, sitting cross-legged on the floor, walking a labyrinth.

We practiced mindfulness all morning, making a steep descent down the mountainside on a rocky and sometimes solid rock path.

Every bit of our attention was focused on our feet, our sticks, our balance. No room to think about tomorrow or yesterday or what’s happening back home.

If the slope relented now and then we could expand our consciousness to enjoy the continuous birdsong that accompanied us the entire way.

The mountains are beautiful and dotted with tiny, mostly deteriorating towns, made entirely of stone.

We’ve read that the popularity of the Camino is breathing new life into some of these places, as hostels and cafes open up to serve the constant stream of pilgrims.

We’re staying tonight in Ponferrada, a surprisingly sizable town, complete with a castle.

Well, we certainly aren’t on the plains anymore!

Today displayed the most beautiful scenery we’ve had to date, as we climbed up and over the highest pass of the Spanish Camino Frances. The accomplishment and beauty made the day a highlight as well as the high point!

We started by leaving the very special little mountain village of Rabanal de Camino. Once again, we were greeted by a rainbow–our third and most spectacular so far. It stayed before us, appearing and reappearing as we gradually went up, up, up.

No surprise that we both had in our heads, “Climb every mountain, ford every stream, follow every rainbow…”

At the apex of the pass stands a huge rock pile, topped by a tall wooden post and iron cross. Tradition has it that you leave a rock there when you pass. People have different interpretations of what this ritual means.

For some, it signifies that to which they are dedicating their walk, or something for which they are grateful. Maybe it symbolizes their prayer for the world or a gift they want to give to the world. Maybe it is an expression of gratitude or a symbol of something they want to leave behind them.

Walking the Camino gives you time to contemplate things like this.

Then came the descent. Don’t be fooled into thinking that up=hard and down=easy. Most of the descent was extremely steep and very rocky. It was by far the most taxing part of the day. We had to go slowly and constantly pay attention to make it down safely.

We’re pleased to report that our record of staying on our feet continues!

Today we walked uphill all day–in the rain.

That kind of sounds like your worst hiking nightmare, doesn’t it? It was kind of tough at the end, but overall, not terrible.

The rain started in the morning as a slight drizzle and continued that way for a few hours. It was light enough that our shoes never got soaked through.

The rain got heavier about three miles from our destination (a 12-mile day). We took a long break and had a snack and tea; it was still early in the afternoon, so we were in no rush.

The last hour was in steady, though not pouring, rain. Surprisingly, although shoes were pretty soaked and our socks kind of wet, our feet were only damp. It helped that though we had rain, we never walked in puddles.

As for the uphill, it was a steady ascent, never steep (until we got to the hill town where we are staying). It didn’t leave you huffing and puffing.

The reward is staying in the cutest, coziest place yet. It’s a small, old building with thick wooden beamed ceilings.

The shuttered window looks out over red tile roofs, stone walls around green fields, and a church tower presiding over it all from the top of the hill.

The room is the most spacious we’ve had yet, with lots of space for us, our suitcases, and backpacks. And it has two (!) piping hot radiators that are making quick work of drying our wet things. A big, non-leaky hot shower and a hair dryer! Downstairs, there’s tea and hot water. Heaven!

Now that we’re inside and the rain is outside, we’re as snug as a bug in a rug!

Faithful readers of this blog may remember the post from Sept. 20 titled 100 Miles. In it, we talked about having lunch at the ruins of the St. Anthony monastery.

The Hospital Brothers of St. Anthony ran the monastery/hospital there and ministered to sick pilgrims.

Lori’s been thinking about the Brothers and all those beleaguered pilgrims of the Middle Ages, especially the people who suffered with ‘St. Anthony’s fire’, a catch-all term that was used for several skin afflictions.

Why, you may ask? Because she suddenly is sporting about 50 bug bites! Jane has some, too, but Lori was apparently the subject of a bug feeding frenzy the day before yesterday. It probably happened when we were sitting outside the rural aubergue where we were staying.

Today, on the trail, we were so beset by bugs (likely from all the fields having been recently disced with manure) that we pulled out the handy-dandy bug net head coverings we’ve had ever since traveling to Australia in 2010. They saved our sanity.

Tonight, we’re staying in a lovely, bigger town called Astorga. It’s here because it’s been a crossroads since Roman times. Today, largely because of the Camino, people from all over the world still pass through Astorga every day. Along with a few bugs….

It’s been nearly three years since Lori retired and just over two for Jane. Walking the Camino, we’ve met many people who’ve also retired recently or within the past few years.

It’s interesting and reassuring, in a way, to talk with people about the choices they are making, including their reasons for walking the Camino.

Some are surprising, like the couple who sold their house, got rid of all their possessions, and have spent the last four years traveling–each has a carry-on and a backpack. 

Another couple talked about deciding it was okay to take a break from every day visits to her 92-year-old mom in memory care after four years of caregiving. ‘When exactly was going to be the right time?’

We’ve all been thru several stages of life with its ups and downs, twists, and turns.

October dawns tomorrow. We’ll start the hills stage of the Camino, with its ups and downs and twists and turns, getting closer to Santiago.

Jane at today’s starting point. Lori striding into evening’s destination.

León’s a big city and leaving it this morning in the narrow, twisting medieval part challenged our direction-finding. It’s kind of like a maze, and we popped out a bit away from the Camino.

We knew we were close but couldn’t see any directional signage. Just then, a short, older woman in a brown puffy coat called out to us, “Camino de Santiago!” and pointed to a different direction than we were heading.

We realized she was helping us get back on track, but she started saying a lot (in Spanish, of course) with gestures that looked like ‘go straight then dogleg this way, then turn that way, then turn that way…’ Yikes!

When she realized we weren’t comprehending she started escorting us!

Just then, a younger woman dressed in some sort of traditional garb came along from a cross street. We each thought, is she Roma? or what is this outfit all about?

She seemed to tell the older woman she was headed to ‘San Marco’ and she would take us there! So the first woman handed us off to the second woman and off we went.

We thought she might go a block or two with us, but no! She walked at least 10 minutes with us, through twisting and turning and crossing streets we wouldn’t have figured out without firing up our phones.

It wasn’t until we could see a massive old building ahead that we started seeing Camino markers again.

As we arrived, we could see that next to this big old building is a big convention center-type building. And, trickling towards it from every direction were other people in all sorts of traditional clothing!

Lori asked the woman what was happening and, of course, out of the several-sentence answer she gave us the only word Lori thought she understood was ‘baille’–dance!

Once we got to our lodging for the night, Lori investigated and figured out that today was the Las Canteras Ceremony (https://www.leonestradicion.com/en/las-cantaderas/. Too bad we didn’t have time to stick around and check it out; but we did have our own little piece of the action!

It was as if two angels stepped out of the mists of time and guided us west, on our way to Santiago. We are grateful once more to the generosity of the people of the Camino.

Photos from top clockwise: León street bustling last night now quiet Sunday morning; San Marco – formerly an inn, a prison, barracks, now a posh hotel; on the road west; tea break!

Observing Spanish life on a beautiful Saturday in León makes us wish we could bring some of it back home with us.

The streets are full of people strolling – couples, groups of friends, and families. Friend groups might be young people, or adults, all men, all women, or mixed. Dogs (always well-behaved), kids in strollers, toddlers, parents and children (including adult children) walking arm-in-arm.

They may be shopping, or just looking in the windows, but mostly chatting. As the day wears on, the bars and cafes fill with people. They start with coffee and bread or pastry. That gives way to a beer or glass of wine and a snack. By 8 or later, more restaurants are open, and dinner starts.

León actually has a cold winter, more so than, say, Barcelona or Seville, so we don’t know what this looks like in the cold. But, on a glorious fall day like this, it looks like a very good way to live.

Gobsmacked might not be the best word but we liked the alliteration. What we’re trying express is that we’ve had moments of doubt that we’d make it this far, and yet here we are!

Today marks two weeks of walking. We’re nearly halfway to Santiago and are so grateful to get this far. Being greeted by a rainbow in the León exurbs expressed our amazement to reach this point in our Camino attempt.

About ten days ago, we arrived in Burgos and Jane had developed a painful heel that made walking difficult. We weren’t even one full week into the Camino and there we were, discussing if we’d already reached the end of our road.

Jane went to work, learning how to care for her irritated bursa. She wrapped it in kinesiology tape, bought new shoes and recommitted. We decided to take it one day at a time and see if we could make it to León.

Today posed some challenges for Jane as one of her walking sticks broke down mid-morning, causing a minor meltdown on Ms. Leonard’s part (she uses two sticks to help generate the 25% extra thrust that her 75% hamstring needs for full speed ahead). Lori spotted a stick for sale at a department store about an hour later, and that helped immensely.

The stick malfunction approaching León mirrors the shoe malfunction in reaching Burgos. Help in the nick of time. The Camino challenges and then the Camino provides.  You just have to have patience. It’s very difficult in the moment, and both of us are working on trust!

We are soon leaving the plains and starting into the mountains — longer days and hills upon hills ahead. We’ll continue to take it one day at a time, work on trust, and be grateful for the experience. But first, a full day of rest tomorrow!