October 18, 2001
Astorga- Rabanal del Camino (cool/foggy)
12.2m/19.5km - 319.1m/510.6km

Back in Villadangos we met a pilgrim from New Jersey named Tony. B could not stand him from the first, saying he is to friendly and that she did not trust him. I told her he did come on a little strong but to think of him as a big overgrown puppy who doesn't know its behavior is annoying. Well, Tony is here in Astorga in the bed next to me and for some reason he now makes me uncomfortable too. He is to friendly and does try to hard to make people like him. I try politely to ignore him.

One thing about sleeping in a refugio, you seem to have at least one person who snores. This can be irritating. Last night I woke up because there were two men snoring loudly and they both happen to be sleeping on either side of me. Stereophonic snoring. Tony was the loudest, Tony was so loud I wanted to hit him to make him shut up. So, I did.

I normally would never even think about hitting someone but after lying there for a few minutes and listening to both men I got angrier and angrier. What the hell is wrong with these two? Don't they have a clue to how loud they snore? I look over at Tony and he is lying on his back, no wonder he is snoring. I quietly lean out of my bunk and give him a quick punch on the shoulder and then swiftly lie back down and pretend to be asleep. I hear him move and when I look back I see that his is lying on his side and his snoring has stopped. Silence from that side of my bunk for a couple of minutes and then he starts again, just as loud as before. Great, I'm sleeping next to an equal opportunity snorer. I've got to pick up some earplugs.

We leave Astorga and walk through land that gets greener and greener. We are heading into the Leon Mountains and will be walking through them for the next several days. At one point a man driving a car honks at us, smiles, and then gives us a thumbs up. The car is a rental so we figure he is someone who walked the Camino and is driving back over it. Maybe we should do the same thing when we get to Santiago.

One of the most interesting places between Astorga and Rabanal del Camino is the Cowboy Bar in El Ganso. It is right on the Camino and looks like it used to be a garage. It has two large wood barn-like doors that open to the street and one is propped open today. Inside there are a couple of table with benches lined up along the left side of the building, while on the other side there is a pot belly stove that does not put out enough heat to heat to warm up anything more than ten feet away. It does put out enough smoke to create a haze that floats over the room. We walk to the bar in the back where a man is drinking a small brandy and order hot drinks and then sit at a table. As I sip my drink I look at all the cowboy stuff hanging on the walls; Cowboy poster, horse bridles, spurs- actually so much stuff I can't absorb it all. After finishing the drinks that do not warm us up because it is so cold in there, we go our way.

We are just outside Rabanal when we see Tony, who is sitting under a large beautifully shaped oak tree that is just off the road. We aren't going to stop but he come over and starts talking, telling us the tree is called The Pilgrim's Oak and that for centuries pilgrims have rested under it. I guess Tony is the only one who is going to sit under it today because he was the only one over there.

The refugio we stay in is run by the Confraternity of St. James and used to be part of the church next door. We arrive by 130P and have plenty of time to take showers and do laundry. After that we join the other pilgrims out in the side yard and either sit or lie down in the sun. As I sit there I get that antsy feeling that means I need to walk, so I get up and walk around the yard. This is what is hard for me now, being tired but at the same time wanting to keep walking

On the Camino today I heard rumors about people panicking is the States because there is a smallpox epidemic spreading across the country. I also heard that terrorists are targeting Americans overseas. Some people say we Americans should not tell anyone where we from but to say we are Canadians. I don't know, I haven't felt the need to lie to anyone and when I do get asked, I don't get a big reaction to my answer. The rumors do bother me so I call my husband and he tells me they are not true. Someone has mailed letters with Anthrax in them to some government officials but there is no panic. He has not heard anything about terrorists attacking Americans overseas either. After talking to him I feel better and sad at the same time. I miss him.

After dinner tonight we sit in a large room called the library. One of the women running the refugio brings us tea to drink. J is sitting next to the fire and talking to her husband. Today we found out that when you reach Villafranca de Bierzo a man will take your backpack up to O'Cebreiro for you. The walk between Villafranca and O'Cebreiro is said to be very strenuous so I am going to let him take my pack for me. B and J say they are going to carry their packs themselves. Anyway, the husband says not carrying your own pack is cheating. In fact, sleeping in the refugio, he says, is technically cheating too.

All alone the Camino I've heard pilgrims say the things other pilgrims were doing on the walk was cheating. You were cheating if you traveled by bike instead of walking. You were cheating if you did not walk alone. You were cheating if you took the bus. You were cheating if you did not stay in the most basic refugios. You were cheating if you stayed in a hotel. You were cheating if you ate in restaurants. There was only one "right" way to do the Camino. The way the original Middle Ages pilgrims did it, by walking alone and suffering.

My take on the whole thing. I'm a pilgrim, not a martyr, and the "right" way to walk the Camino for me, is the way I am doing it now. I am sure that earlier pilgrims hitched a ride on an ox cart anytime they could. The way someone else is doing the Camino is the "right" way for him or her. I have used the phrase "I'm a pilgrim, not a martyr" on this walk before. When ever I thought I was being ask to do something, or was thinking of doing something, that would make the walk more difficult for no other reason but to make it harder I would say, "I'm a pilgrim, not a martyr." I am delighted to hear J say quietly to the man, "We are pilgrims, not martyrs." I think I've made a convert.