To Live Intensely

I'm almost too tired to write but I feel like I should take advantage of the wifi as I write this on my phone.

Tomorrow will be what I think is the last hardest day as far as terrain goes. I'll work to make my way toward O'Cebreiro and plan to stop short possibly in Herrerias. The normal route calls for 30km, but is 36km with the adjustment for climb.

Except I don't think I'm going to go that way. There's this other more challenging route that promises the most beautiful views of the Valcarce valley, but requires twice as much climbing. It's called the Camino Dragonte route. The adjusted distance is 44km, but the first town I can stop at will be at 32km along the way and is probably going to be the most reasonable place to break for the night at that point.

There have been several warnings here and there about how challenging it is and how it's poorly marked and there aren't any towns to stop at along the way. Aside from this, no one has skipped a beat when they talk about hearing how beautiful it is.  In my head I just think of the first arduous day from St Jean to Roncesvalles that never seemed to stop climbing uphill in addition to the sideways rain and steep downhill march. All of this combined into perfect pain, exhaustion, and pride.

It just makes sense for me to go. The group I've been traveling with here and there  seem to keep changing their minds, despite the fact that I'm the tiny girl of the group. Tonight I just said that I wasn't afraid and that I don't want to take the easier route and always wonder if I should have turned left when instead I went right.   I don't know if there's going to be a second Camino for me so I'm treating this experience as being the one and only. It just feels different from when I decide to sleep early after a day of walking and miss seeing the town and it's monuments. This seems more than that.

So I've packed food for tomorrow (extra weight!), am prepared for possible rain, and scanned the map for alternative routes to reach the main road in case of disaster. I'm also suddenly grateful for the travel insurance I purchased only hours before my train to France.  

There's only so much one can do in these types of situations. When I was younger, I remember always being annoyed when before some significant event I was asked, "Are you ready?" 

I used to just reply with, "I'm ready because I have to be."

I should probably reveal now that I'm not the most intuitive when it comes to land navigation, so the lack of marked paths is probably what worries me the most. I think I tend to lose patience with deciding which way to go when I might be lost, so I'll just pick a way and take it and hope I'm right or that I can make up for it later. Since I lack in that area, I tend to go with what "feels right" in order to avoid frustration and wasted time  in calculations and over preparation. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. 

I'm just not scared. And that's enough for me (and all I need?).

Oh and I'm not sure who reads this, but I'll try to post soon after so you know I've survived!

So here's to not going right.

--J