AND THEN THE FLOODGATES OPENED!
Saturday, September 2
Larrasoaña to Pamplona
15.84km/9.84mi (730.50km/457.44mi to Santiago de Compostela)
“The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.” - Dolly Parton
After last night’s major thunderstorm and light show, and given that today wasn’t a major km day (in length but not, as it turned out, in difficulty), I left the Casa Tau pensione at 7:20am, crossed the old bridge out of town, and picked up the Camino that had brought me to Larrasoaña. Everything was wet (duh!), but there were enough rocks in the gravel path that you had something for your boots to step on (though slippery). And then it began anew!
“Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.” - Langston Hughes
Since my backpack and I already had our rain jackets on, I slipped my hood over my cap and continued on. And there was more rain. Falling harder.
There’s something so cleansing walking in the woods on a path with a lush and mysterious tunnel through the trees ahead; the smell is clean, the sounds are on the one hand muzzled, and at the same time sharp and piercing, like raindrops pushing down from above, slapping against already-wet leaves with a loud “clap”. And still it fell harder.
Just as I deal with the challenging downpours that occur in my own life, I can always (humbly) count on breaks in the clouds; perhaps not totally, but at least some respite. And so it was in the forested Camino that morning. I looked around and took in everything; from the sweet humid air to the rush of the overflowing and rapid stream next to me and just past the bushes. It is all good because it is all life! I look ahead, across a field to where the Camino leads, and I see them…us…walking. Walking. Caminando.
And then the sky opened up! All I could think about was how what I’m currently doing goes against everything we’re taught as kids about not being outdoors in the rain…let alone a full-blown torrential thunder and lightning storm. And, yet, we walk…we walk.
Through open gravel paths with pools of mud, I walk. Through tunnels full of water where none should’ve been. I walk. Up steep paths with wooden crossbeams for sure footing, watching the sky light up with dancing, streaking lightning, I walk. Stepping into water inches deep and long ago foregoing any chance of keeping my feet dry (everything is soaked deep), I walk. I walked. And am cleansed.
“As your consciousness lifts itself above the problem into a spiritual atmosphere of affirmation, the problem, as such, disappears and the answer takes its place. Every problem contains its own answer if you think of the problem merely as a question, an inquiry, and not as an obstruction. Thinking of it this way, keep your mind not in the repetition of thought about the problem, but on the receipt. Of a definite answer.” - This Thing Called You, page 116
And then, knowing I was getting closer to the Hemingway-fabled Pamplona, I stepped out from the woods and spotted the Puenta de Magdelena, a fabled XII century pilgrim’s bridge marking 1km to the city. Crossing over and stepping under an arched walkway, that was the first time since Larrasoaña that I stopped to assess my rather moist condition.
Having self-stamping my Credençial de Perigrino (pilgrim’s passport) within this dark grotto (which was actually an old church), and stroking a sheltered kitty in from the rain, I slid my hood on and proceeded down suburban streets following las flechas (Camino arrows) crossing intersections (flechas), ducking under narrow doorways (flechas); ultimately crossing a city park, up cobblestones of the old city walls, crossing the drawbridge and finally, finally walking under the Portal de Francia and entering the historic city center of Pamplona.
“That which I seek is seeking me. That which belongs to me will come to me. Since it is my desire that only good, truth, love, wisdom and power shall go from me me, I know this is all that can come back to me.” - This Thing Called You. page 52
As if on cue, the storm let up into a mild drizzle and I ran into Camino friends from last night: father and son, Danny and Aaron (from Alexandria, VA). After calling them “Camino stalkers”, we laughed and they shared how, though they were only spending the night, David was treating himself to a massage and spa! (Now that’s roughing it without walking sticks!)
After selfies in front of the splendidly baroque Casa Consistorial (Town Hall), we parted ways (only to “stalk” each other days later). And so began my first of several rest days in larger, historic cities.
In spite of the rain, thunder, puddles and mud, my heart is bursting with pure emotion and joy at how community is created one sopping wet step at a time…sharing underpasses and low foliage cover; finding laughter in the midst of dangerous storms. I remind myself to stay mindful, in the moment, open-hearted; and always give, receive and BE Love. Because when I remove everything else…my raincoat, as well as my ego…love and my smile are all that remain. And isn’t that nice! (My heart cracks wide open and tears are welling up. Good night, fellow peregrinos.)
“God is right where I am. I am at peace with myself. I am at peace with everyone around me. I am at peace with the world in which I live. I am at home with the Divine Spirit in which I am immersed.” - This Thing Called You, page 119
