We woke up early with anticipation and nerves and packed our backpacks. The trail began in the city of Oviedo and would zig zag through the streets before popping out into lush farmland and rural towns. The fog hung low and visibility was a struggle. After 'un café', we stepped out onto the road and began down the street. We saw out first scalloped shell, an indication that we were on the El Camino, plated into the sidewalk. Only minutes later, I was tapped on the shoulder by an older gentleman asking if we were pilgrims in thick Spanish. In my completely broken Spanish we were able to figure out that he had walked the Camino Primitivo eight times and the Camino Frances three times. He walked this section of the trail every morning out about eight kilometers and back. Before we realized it, we had our own private guide. Though we never got his name, we learned he was 75 and could hike much faster than the two of us.

He helped us with everything, even making sure our backpacks were adjusted correctly. He showed us how to read the trail markers and that they would change when we entered Galicia, the next province. He talked about what water was good to drink and where to find the stamps that would fill our trail booklets. He showed us how to knock walnuts off the trees and crack them open and he knew where all the friendly horses and dogs were. And, of course, he made fun of me for wearing sandals. A few hours later he stopped and said it was where he would turn around, he hugged us both and said farewell. We were extremely appreciative for all of his help and had bittersweet feelings about pushing on without him. We hiked on to a small church where we ran into our first pilgrims, and there were tons of them. Five walked by as we sat to rub my ankle and more were definitely coming. We walked on and suddenly the fog started to lift and the sun warmed up, revealing a green valley marked by small, scattered buildings. Cow bells rang everywhere in the distance and the area felt very peaceful. We started to strip off our warm layers as the sun beat down harder.

My ankle throbbed with unuse and I needed a break. We walked up a small slope and both felt drained. The donut we had eaten that morning had finally worn off and our bodies needed some caloric energy. It would still be another hour and a half before we'd find a small cafe and be able to rest and recharge. They brought us massive sandwiches that were near impossible to fit into our mouths, but we managed. After some foot rubbing and taping of hot spots, we were back on the route. The sun was hotter than ever and I could feel the skin on the back of my neck start to burn. I was relieved when we turned off the road to a shaded trail curving through old houses next to a large river. When we entered the track we saw a large man a ways in front of us. From the beginning I had a bad feeling. He was not a pilgrim, had no belongings with him, and suspiciously kept his right hand in front of him the whole time. I pulled my mom back and whispered that this could turn into a bad situation. I was extremely aware that I had left my knife in my backpack instead of its usual place in my hip belt pocket. We were reaching the end of the track that would pop us out onto a busy road when he turned around. I frantically searched his hands with my eyes, ready for anything. But nothing, he was holding nothing. He started to unbutton his pants and in my naivety I thought he was going to pee off the side of the trail. He whipped out his genitals and started rubbing them in our direction. As we quickly walked past him, I yelled that he was a disgusting human being. We got onto the road and couldn't believe what had just happened. I was sick to my stomach. In all my years of traveling alone, nothing like that had ever happened to me. My mom said I could never go anywhere alone again. The incident did help us get a pep in our step and forget about the aches and pains for a while. We had finally reached the outskirts of our destination town. We were beat and my foot was killing me. We stumbled into a bar and sat down to rest, immediately ordering 'dos cervesas'. Getting to our hotel, we both slumped down on the clean beds in our sweat laden clothes and nearly fell asleep (I did). After showers and elevating our feet, we walked around the quaint little city of Grado in search of food. Unfortunately kitchens in Spain don't open until nine o'clock. We walked everywhere asking in broken Spanish if 'la cocina abierto?' Before giving up and having some wine and 'cidre' while we waited for food.

The region in Spain, Asturias, is known for their cider and is gimmicked by the waiter pouring it from over his head to the glass far below. This adds a natural carbonation that needs to be drunk fast in order to get the full effects. After some much needed food, we went back to the hotel and crashed hard. Hoping to recover for day two.

STATS

Where: Oviedo - Grado

Steps: 37,924

Miles: ~15