An Inadvertent Camino Day
Although there’s no such thing as an “average” day on the Camino, it would seem that 25km a day is a fair rate. Some days are less, of course, and some are a bit more.
This past weekend, some buddies and I were on our annual camping trip. Well, we used to camp. The past few years, we’ve stayed at a ranger cabin in a national forest. We’re reached that point in middle age where rain and hard ground just don’t have the romantic appeal they used to.
On Friday, two of us took a hike. Gleaning our information from a beautifully hand-painted map near our site, we estimated that a nearby lake was about three miles away. Three miles up, hang about the lake, three miles back sounded like a good way to spend the middle of a hot August day.
So I loaded up my “Camino pack”, put on my adventury hat, and grabbed my hickory walking stick. My buddy Paul put on a day pack, including a 2-liter water bottle, some string cheese, and half a dozen tangerines and off we went.
We refilled our water bottles at the 5-mile marker at a place called Soda Springs. The water there was delightfully fizzy, though it tasted like gravel. We had to concede at that point that perhaps the maps wasn’t as accurate as we’d have liked.
But we pushed on! At the 6-mile marker, we made a pact that if we made it to the 8-mile marker without spotting the lake, we’d turn back.
It was extremely hot, and we hydrated frequently. A nearby glacial river provided cold water for the bandana on my neck. Best two dollars I ever spent.
The road wound through the forest, up and down hills, vaguely following the nearby river. Occasionally we walked in the shadows of some impressive stone cliffs of sheer volcanic rock. At every rise, and around every bend, I thought for sure that I could see a clearing just beyond the next line of trees. Surely that was the lake!
Finally, we reached the 8-mile marker with no lake in sight. However! About a half mile ahead of us, we could see a large sign, and it was pretty clear that it stood at the beginnings of a vast clearing in the forest.
Despite all good sense, we pushed on. We would at least see what the sign said. Unless it said something like “Lake ahead 200 yards”, we would turn back.
It turned out to be a sign for something called the Goose Prairie Inn, and the vast clearing in question was apparently Goose Prairie. We were dying for some proper food and a glass of beer, but neither of us had brought our wallets.
It hardly mattered, as the inn was closed.
We sat on the porch and drank more of our now flat Soda Springs mineral water. The weight distribution of my pack had been bugging me, so I repacked it. Then we headed down to the river to soak our feet and eat what food we had.
The string cheese was terrible. I shared out an expired Cliff Bar that was even worse. Then, we ate the best tangerines in the history of the universe.
By the time we made it back to the 3-mile marker, we were pretty well exhausted. I was daydreaming about summer sausage and good bread. We staggered on past the 1-mile marker and, just about 100 yards from the turnoff to our cabin, several of our buddies arrived in a truck to hunt for us.
The sun was going down, and we’d been out since 10AM.
We gratefully accepted the 100-yard ride.
As utterly wiped out as we were, some food and a gin and tonic proved an admirable restorative. By the next day, the only lingering effects were some soreness in my calves.
We’d walked 17 miles, give or take, which works out to just over 27 km. A pretty good day for the Camino. Considering we walked expecting to go about six miles and in the hottest part of the day, I think we did rather well.
I certainly wouldn’t say I’m prepared for the Camino, but the day taught me that I could walk the daily distances required with no ill effects.
And that counts for something.