The day finally dawned about two hours after we set off and revealed this . Somehow it was familiar. As the bus took a slightly diagonal route, it was leaving Galicia behind. Daybreak unveiled spectacular mountains as strong sunlight burned off the mist. We drove through Astoria, the ornate cathedral emerged, unmistakable and a breathtaking surprise.
As we left the town a narrow, obviously older road, ran below our route. The scenery looked so familiar! Surely I knew that river running beside the road. I had walked there two years ago with a Spanish pilgrim, Carmen. Yes, Tricastel was the name of the place and there was one of the castles flashing by too quickly for me to capture it on my phone
Peering down a steep slope, my face lit up as I realized the bus route was cutting through the classic Camino Frances route. I even caught sight of the way market with the half sun and yellow arrow on a bright blue background. It was set up in a rest area with picnic tables. I distinctly remember lying down in the cool grass there listening to the endless sound of the stream.
I had a wonderful conviction that the Camino of two years ago, the Camino that had been such a different experience was greeting me, encouraging me, “ Remember, you walked here. You experienced this joy. It’s still here, still in you to recall and relive whenever you want.”
I’ve never bought into many of the Camino cliches, or catchphrases. However, just at that moment it seemed to me that the Camino was giving me just what I needed -a sweet farewell from an old trusted friend.