There's a fog settled over the mountain ridge across the way. It looks like a camino morning, like the morning we set out from Ostabat, the last leg before Saint Jean-Pied-de-Port and the Pyrenee crossing into Spain. I can well anticipate quiet mornings like today. By now we'll be on the road, walking. I am telling my feet to enjoy the next day's rest because it's all over on Tuesday.
This is the day we leave after so long. Again.
The cats know. The only way to leave them is to walk out the door and not look back. It is always very difficult for me to leave them behind even though I know they are in superb hands.
This segment of the camino takes the pilgrim through the barren alteplano where there are no landmarks, only a straight path, now lined apparently with saplings that someday will provide shade for the pilgrim.
It is said that people have visions on the alteplano because they become disoriented. That's better than the more perilous saying that demons will assault the pilgrim's soul.
I figure walking this chunk of the camino will be like crossing the Atlantic Ocean (which I did on the QE2 in 1977). For three days there was only sky and sea. We didn't even see a single bird. It stormed, the sea was rough, and there wasn't much of a vista. But it was vast and awesome. That's how I anticipate seeing the alteplano (or like being in Texas where everything is huge and you get 'big skies').
Regardless, we are off.
Vaya con Dios.
