Outside of Sarria, the path is kind to our feet most of the day. At a point where the path crosses a road, getting close to the 100-km marker, two buses disgorge a horde of adolescent boys and their chaperones. They cavort like puppies all over the trail. They sing and joke and run and jump. They are polite and well-behaved. I find them amusing; they actually brighten the day. We do pass a couple of them walking with a chaperone, reciting the rosary. We guess these two are either in trouble or being kept out of trouble.
It rains on and off, not hard enough to get soaked and far enough in between to dry off. We pass several churches, none of which are open. This surprises us; we thought that especially along the required 100 km the churches would be accessible. I begin to worry that it will be difficult to acquire the necessary minimum two sellos a day for the last 100 km. One entrepreneurial spirit has created his own sello. A sign informs us in advance and the prospect draws us into his little shack souvenir shop. I know it's not obligatory, but I buy another shell bracelet; I like it and it's only 2 euro.
Along one ascent, we pass a couple. The woman is barely hobbling up the hill. I ask if she's okay and she replies "more or less." Since that could have easily been me--by the grace of God it is not--I feel moved to press my guardian angel coin into her hand. She's confused and I tell her that the guardian angel has gotten me this far and now it's time for the angel to help someone else. She thanks me while I am thanking God that I have healed enough to be able to pass that grace on. (Forgive me, Carissa, for giving away your gift, but I truly believe that inspiration, not impulse, compelled me to do it.) It is a small thing, but I am learning to listen to the small voice when it tells me to do something.
Several years ago, because changes had been made along the path, it was resurveyed and the 100-km mark is slightly different now. Since there is no indication of which is the newer one, we take photos at each, just to be sure. (The other set is in another post.)
Somewhere inside the 100-km mark is this shrine. I don't know what to think of it. Sure, I've had my share of blisters and pain, but I am not about to abandon my boots. I have no idea if a different pair of footwear would have had different results, but I like to think my boots are protecting my feet from even worse wear-and-tear.
By plodding ever onward, we make it to Portomarín, officially catching up to where we would have been on our original itinerary. To claim that victory, though, we first have to cross a scarily high, long bridge that has only a waist-high, two-bar railing between us and the drop. The rain has slowed but the wind is strong. It gusts through my poncho, now and then suddenly and alarmingly unbalancing me or catching the poncho on rivets along the guardrail between us and the road traffic. After we reach terra firma my knees are feeling weak, but we still have to climb a wide, steep, long stairway up to the town. Then it's about another kilometer to the plaza where the Xunta is. Sometimes, the shorter days can be just as taxing as the longer ones.
Total distance walked: 27.5 km
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