9/22 Even before dawn it is evident the day will be hot. The main street that the night before was populated with celebration, is quiet and clean. I walk through a fountained main circle with benches where several pilgrims sleep. Usually walking in the early morning elevates my mood, but this morning the sun rising presses down on me making my muscles fatigue. It doesn’t help that the pathway is near busy main roads the emanate an oily odor and exhaust.

Walking alone gives me time to think. I still don’t want to be here. Moments of happiness and moments of misery waves. I spend days counting down miles to when I can rest again. It’s always the church’s steeple that informs me a village is near. What do I expect from this journey? I want to grieve and heal from losing my job. I want to grieve and heal from other wounds that picket my life. I’m transitioning to age 50 in two years. I want to crystalize my sense of self and reach for self-reliance. I want this to be a solitary journey to transcendence. Not much, right?! As one of my pilgrim acquaintances said: This is a journey, not a pleasure cruise.

There seems to be no shade from the sun today. I don’t do well in the heat. I wear long sleeves to protect my lily-white skin from burning. I have a heat rash on my thighs. I see some pilgrims sitting in the shade of haystacks, so I follow suit. I decide that I will stop in the next village, Ventosa instead of making it to Nájera. I reach for my phone to text. Before I left I told everyone I would not be in touch often. I wasn’t sure if I would even return home. I wanted to run away, keep traveling. What’s thrown a wrench in those plans is my need to be in touch with Stella. She’s been my person for so long. Meeting Michele and having mixed feelings for her was unexpected. I like the passion but is that enough. I wanted to be free to say yes to anyone else who might come along during this journey. This idea of freedom, this desire to live freely has been my elusive obsession.

When I reach the albergue in Ventosa the owner is welcoming. The place is very nice. Gendered bathrooms and sleeping quarters, and even washers and dryers! No restaurant, but a stocked kitchen. Many unfamiliar faces, because those that walk the Camino in segments have left off in the city of Logroño. I, fortunately, run into Thomas. He’s used to coed facilities so I meet him in the women’s bathroom showering. He pokes his soap-covered head out and asks me if we can combine our laundry for washing and drying. I say of course.

I make myself a peanut butter and marmalade sandwich for dinner and am the first to head to bed. The room I’m in has a noisy group of Spanish women having fun. The only English-speaking guest in the opposite bunk keeps to herself. Even before the sun sets, I fall into a deep heat-exhausted sleep.