When was I talking about being in a bliss state? Just yesterday?

I was late getting out this morning and got off to a shaky start. Despite getting an unusually good night's sleep, and my usual two cafe con leches along with a basic breakfast of toast and cheese, I was decidedly dragging energy-wise. Partly it was already pretty hot and humid when I hit the road at 8:40, but partly I was just feeling lethargic. And then within a few hundred yards my right foot started to cramp up and despite massaging it, rearranging my sock and shoe, doing stretches, etc., it kept happening. I figured I'd be able to walk it out, and eventually I did, but it was a rough couple of hours before it resolved itself.

So my "strong healthy vigorous successful" and my reverie kept getting knocked aside by "why am I doing this again"? I kept reminding myself of the reasons, but I was already quite aware of them thank you. Despite the landscape being quite beautiful, concentrating on it wasn't working so I tried to let my mind wander. And for part of the way I thought about my parents, both of whom passed away about 10 years ago.

My father would have been able to relate to my doing this. He understood the allure of the exotic. Many of his most passionate recollections were of the years he spent in the service during World War II, when, as a recent graduate of NYU architecture school, he was stationed in various locations in the Caribbean and northern South America. He designed and built airbases in Trinidad, Haiti, French Guiana, and elsewhere, and he explored, took photographs, and drew and painted. And he was always interested in my travels. We had these little rituals. I went on a couple of hundred trips for business when he was still alive, and when I'd call to say goodbye, he'd say the same thing every time: "Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think." And when I'd return he'd always ask, "So, did you have a good time?" He'd also ask "How'd you find the kids?", meaning had they changed much in the week or two weeks I was gone. I'd always say, oh it was easy, I just looked in their bedrooms, and he'd never fail to laugh in his inimitable way.

My mother, on the other hand, would have thought I'm a little crazy. I can practically hear her say, "Sure, if someone was meshuggina enough to go on a pilgrimage 700 years ago, they would have HAD to have walked. But now we have cars and trains and planes. You want to go backwards?" And unlike my father, when I'd call to say goodbye, she'd say, "I wish you were home already." And when I'd return, "Thank God you're home." Not how was the trip, but just that she was glad I had returned safe and sound.

The 12 mile walk today, despite my difficulties, was quite lovely when I let myself enjoy it. Two distinctly different stretches. The part between Cacabelos and Villafranca del Bierzo wound primarily through lush vineyards. Being wine ignorant I didn't realize that Bierzo is a renowned wine region. I read that it's due to a microclimate that's perfect for growing grapes. The town of Villafranca was bustling and lovely, with a small but beautiful public garden, and both the entry and exit were abrupt. Then after Villafranca I was immediately back in the mountains, with a steady rise into Trabadelo, with one tiny village in the interim. The route was next to a little used road, but also cross-crossed a major super highway, and several times I passed under some colossal overpasses.

Tomorrow's walk is a bit intimidating, the biggest ascent of the route I've been told, something like 900 meters, most of it in the second half of a 10+ mile hike. I'm hoping to get off to an early start so I won't be doing the worst of the climb in the hottest part of the day.