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2nd Installment of Through the Mirandoor.

2nd Installment of Through the Mirandoor.


Chapter 31


   I had met a lovely group of people here, a Russian girl, a trio of French pilgrims and a German lady. The six of us were, at this point joined in the joy of following the ‘way’ into the heart of Castilla y Leon. When I had found the messages on the road yesterday, I had imagined a much younger group of walkers. Joachim had been the author of the messages, leaving indication, primarily for some people whom he had met over the past few days. Joachim, was a French gentleman of some 62 years of age, who clearly behaved as a much younger man in spirit and agility. I made comment to him about my surprise and pleasure at reading his messages of encouragement, the previous day.

   For some time now, I held the feeling that I too was a messenger, and the notion was still strong as I considered the places and people I had reached. I held in high regard my duty to deliver the messages, mainly delivered by my attitude and comportment, more often by my actions and spirit to share new ideas with people. I was working constantly to improve the deliverance of such messages, in the hope that more people would be reached by the message of love. I remembered well, watching for the first time the film, City of Angels. Of particular surprise to me, the message held within that film for me had been very clear then and now. Angels walk amongst us every day, and we only have to believe, to feel the effects of their love and giving.

   I had seen one of these angels not so many weeks ago, and I could not let go the feelings of love, joy and incredible mystery from within my mind and heart since that occasion. My passions roused in the simplest of actions, the most plain of sincere assistance. The young woman to whom my feeling are directed, possibly does not herself yet know how powerful this contact had been for me. Her angelic eyes had set me in a quandary as to just what significance it held for my secure future. Her image forever etched into my memory and her scent constantly filling my senses.

   Once upon a time, some thirty five plus years ago to be precise, my grandmother Nellie, had told me a story about the significance of the appearance of the little bird called Robin. Robin Redbreast, was a wonderfully colourful sight, and also, (according to old wives tales) was well known to be a messenger. Apparently it was the herald of a message to be delivered, or the bringer of the message, or some important information to come. I had seen and experienced the truth of this myself, many times whilst walking the Camino Frances last year. The Robin had appeared often and I had understood that a message was to follow, relatively soon, to further my experience of largely, ‘things I cannot otherwise explain, rationally’.

   Walking along here now in the fresh morning air, crossing the Salamanca lowlands, I was not at all surprised to hear a Robin, chirp its arrival into my ears, as it sat looking directly at me from atop the stone wall. Hard to miss when its distinctive colouring shone brightly in the otherwise colourless day. Knowing the apparent significance of his arrival, I began to consider his shape and his voice searching for more clues.

   “What are you here to tell me little friend?” I asked.

   Surprisingly I found myself scouring the open landscape, asking what I was meant to see by way of a message that he was bringing. I should have known it would be a surprise of large proportion as not more than 50 metres along the path, certainly before two minutes had passed, I found two messages directed towards me, written in the gravel and dust of the Salamanca Camino. I was still gob-smacked, rendered speachless despite my awareness that something like this was on the cards. Joachim, I presumed had written an encouraging, if not cryptic messages, which made me smile broadly. I was further impressed at the way the Universe continually revealed to me its higher vibrations. The French pilgrim had definitely meant to make me smile, it had worked, and I enjoyed the feelings that came from knowing the part we all play in the grand scheme, were we share this love.

   The morning was still young, and I had a lot of time to reflect and open my heart to the way that the Universe was directing and guiding me to the connections and experiences that where leading me to a greater respect and understanding of the world around me, and the importance of each. The words of my mentor Santiago were always close to my heart, and having met the man who’s adventures, had spurned my own, I could not ignore the way the universe was assisting me, to new and more open hearted experiences of life, in all its glory.

   Valverde de Valdelacasa was the next climb into the hills, and soon the town came into sight. I really hoped for a bar, I had no supplies left at all. No chocolate or fruit, nor water in my pack. Arriving into the village no luck to be had as the bar here was closed too, and the next village was still some 4 kilometres away. Another hour passed and this time I did find a bar open, one of four. The others all closed due to lack of trade presumably. I was pleased to find some food, a few tapas and a welcome cold beer. I was pretty exhausted after having walked for such a long time without anything to eat, but I wanted to set off before I got too sleepy.

  I knew the next village was not incredibly far away, but put some water into my water bottle just in case. Refuelled and feeling full of love, I soon caught up with some of the family on the uphill stretch towards Fuente de Robles. Dominique informed me that there was a very special Albergue in the next village, St Mary’s parish hostel, run by a seemingly remarkable man, Seńor Blas (Don Blas). His reputation proceeded him several of the towns folk, seemed to revere him and his care for the community. The lady that ran the local shop told us of a 300 strong trip with 8 horse drawn carts, on the road to Santiago, with Sńr. Blas. It sounded like it had been a fun trip, she clearly had enjoyed it, and I wondered if I might get to meet this man.

   The Albergue was as heralded!

   A young man by the name of Jesus met us at the door, with such a calm and peaceful manner, that I could easily have believed him to have been the ‘real’ Jesus, the original prophet of God. Himself a pilgrim on his ‘way’, he had felt the peace of the paroquial home and decided to stay a while to recharge his batteries, and also to assist Sńr. Blas in accommodating and welcoming pilgrims. He was it seemed also a keen poet, and so we passed a good time chatting about our thoughts of life, love and the Camino.

   Once I was settled in, washed and revived from the hard day, I set out for a quiet stroll around the village. Not a great deal to see by way of magnificent architecture, but the views over the plains bordered by tree topped mountains was incredibly uplifting, as I looked out towards Salamanca. In the church yard alongside the village church, I found a brief explanation as to the construction of the Calzada Romana.(Roman footway) The ancient Roman road passed the church, and a part of it had been excavated, to show the arrangement of the stratas. The subterranean design of this handmade road was very interesting, the technology of the day had used several different layers of stones as well as one with mortar (Cement). The top layer had a convex aspect, which would remove surface water, and gullies running along both sides to transfer the excess rainwater without destroying the roads surface. No wonder they could conquer the world, they had been a very clever civilization. What a pity they liked to murder people for fun!!!

   Jesus had invited all the pilgrims to eat with the household later, though Sńr Blas was not in residence this evening to share with us, so I would probably not meet him. The hour of their evening meal was 9.30pm, which was unfortunate for most of the pilgrims who wanted to retire early to bed. Great, more for me!

   I met up with Nadia in the local bar for a drink before dinner the other pilgrims had come here to eat as it was more convenient. During my conversation with Nadia, it transpired that she spoke English, as well as her mother tongue Russian and Spanish. This made a nice change for me, and made chatting a little easier and I felt able to express myself more clearly. Nadia it seemed was trying to experience solitude on the Camino, as was I, but in a slightly different way. I had observed her reservation to be included with the rest of the group on several occasions. After a while, the conversation becoming more one sided, I sensed I was interfering in her personal space, so suggested that I needed to do something back at the Albergue, and left her to her peace. She may well have just found me boring and was too polite to say, either way I got the message.

   It was soon time to eat, and I met Jesus preparing a wonderfully simple meal. Another of the Hospitaleros Emilio had now returned home and together we began our meal, after giving thanks of course, I respected their Christian backgrounds. They gave me pride of place directly in front of the open hearth fire, which was roaring warmly in the fireplace. Despite the hour, I had been looking forward to sharing this meal and the companionship, the local people were very friendly and the food was delicious, which only made this experience all the more enjoyable. Of course eating so late when you have to sleep on the meal is not always a good idea, but to suffer to have shared this evening was definitely worth any discomfort I might face.

   As I retired for the night after helping with the washing up, few noises could be heard from the resting pilgrims, already fast asleep. I snuck into the dormitory and collected my toothbrush and did the necessary rituals before bed. That and the huge thanks I gave to the universe for yet again looking out for my complete welfare, and my future love interests.

   Sleeping on this much happiness is the price one has to pay for selecting love as the most outward tool for travelling new horizons.

If you have enjoyed this sample chapter please read another, Chapter 62. The book is actually 72 chapters. It may sound a lot but remember I walked a long way and although I didn’t write a separate chapter per day, some are longer than others. The idea is to give you an idea of the time line of walking and writing to help the reader join with me on the walk, understanding to some degree the pace and rhythm of trekking. Hopefully you will see the way my thoughts evolved and developed to help me achieve new understandings.


Peaceful Warrior.