"I 'ave a toast.."

Sometimes when a pilgrim wakes on the morning of the most difficult stage of hiking,  superman underwear are an absolute necessity. 

Ameya and I woke slightly stiff from our long wander the day before and walked gingerly down to a breakfast of cereal bowl sized cafe con leches and assorted pastries before hefting backpacks and grabbing our walking sticks. We walked companionably through the first 5 km of farmland, only stopping momentarily to pet an appreciative cow. But almost immediately, the mountains rose to taunt us, reaching up into the clouds. "We can do this" we said, our eyes wide and looking heavenwards. Other pilgrims sat in the grass nearby, shoveling energy/food into their faces, mentally preparing for the climb ahead while a stray cow watched judgmentally. We trudged slowly up the freakishly steep path, the promise of a spectacular view, shoving us forward, and upon reaching the "top" we discovered that we had only just begun. 

Unlike the previous misty days, the morning of our highest climbing had dawned clear and bright and the air held that crispness that only exists in the presence of mountains and cows.  As we climbed higher, our turtle forms shuffled forward 5 inches at a time between each break for water. Sweat collected on our sunscreen saturated foreheads and our walking sticks bore our heavy forward leaning weight. But similar, I 
suppose, to childbirth, upon lifting our heads and looking around us to see the world drop dramatically away, all pain was immediately forgotten... (Though some pilgrims would claim otherwise.)

"Today, I was sitting on a mountain, eating lunch with this incredible view and I wanted to share this moment with my husband," Joanne told us in her adorable Quebec accent over dinner later that night. "So I called him and he picked up on the first ring. I ask him where he is and what does he say?? The toilet!" Joanne shrugged cutely and puckered her lips as we laughed and collectively launched into a conversation of phones in bathrooms. 

We seasoned pilgrims had spent a grueling but spectacular 9 hours hiking through the Asturian mountains, charting the most physically difficult stage of any Spanish camino with an ascension of approximately a thousand meters. We had touched the crumbling stones of medieval pilgrim alburgues with distant horizons stretching in all directions. We had passed each other multiple times as differing break times constantly brought us all even. We all nearly face planted our way down a crumbling steep descent, and we all stumbled gratefully into the first bar in 20 kilometers in the tiny town of Lago. Our backpacks littered the ground like dead upside down June bugs outside the bar as thirsty pilgrims marveled over extra ice cubes. Upon discovering the full bar, Ameya, our Oxford friend Paul, our happy Russian Dimitri and myself realized that unless we got moving, we would be sleeping outside. And so, with tired legs and obscenely oppressive backpacks, the four of us raced the final three kilometers to Burducedo to secure the last two rooms above one of the town's two bars. 

"I 'ave a toast.." Dimitri said in a thick Russian accent. Paul, Karin, Joanne, Ameya and I put down our forks and raised our glasses as Dimitri continued. "I wish to buy a house..but I am able to buy a goat. Let's toast that our abilities match our wishes!"  We clinked our glasses and laughed long into the night.

 Ameya being knighted after climbing his first mountain, as per Dimitri's instructions.. We didn't have a sword..

 The parting of the Red Sea..

 The right idea!!