Two years ago, I was well into my journey walking the Portuguese Coastal Camino. I look back at the Blessing for Departing Pilgrims that I received from my support group back in North Carolina — American Pilgrims on the Camino, Raleigh Chapter.

“May you find companionship on the way and guidance at the crossroads.”

On Day 9 of my route, I had 16 miles to cover from Ramallosa to Vigo. The path started on the coast and was then interrupted by a wooded section. I tried to find where it continued by the water but ended up hiking uphill through a forest.

There was no one there in that great expanse of tall trees except me. At first it gave me pause, knowing I was off the Camino, but then I felt like I’d been given a gift. “All of this just for me to enjoy,” I said to myself and knew I wasn’t really lost, just temporarily side tracked. Later I would learn that I was in Monteferro, a forested coastal peninsula.

It was Sunday morning and I felt like I’d arrived at a private sanctuary, my own church that was generously provided. If I hadn’t been sidetracked, I wouldn’t have experienced those stunning views.

Later, when I was back on the Camino with the reassuring scallop shell signs that dotted the route, it occurred to me that I’d lost about an hour by getting sidetracked. Or did I? It was beautiful and peaceful in that forest. Wasn’t the Camino, my observation of the folks in Portugal and Spain, teaching me to slow down and relax? Hard for a driven American to lean into that behavior.

I trekked on and on and felt myself growing very tired as I grew closer to Vigo. My trip coordinator, Mary had described Vigo as a large city that would require close attention to spot the Camino signs on the busy streets. She was right! I had to stop in several places to access their wifi and pull up the map of the city. Finally, I found my hotel and was relieved to settle into my room. That night I had a hard time falling asleep, worrying about how I would make it out of the city. The next morning, I carried my suitcase to the lobby where the transport service would pick it up and take it to the next night’s lodging. I stopped to ask the desk clerk for help with accessing the Camino.

The young man pulled out a paper map and showed me the route through the city blocks, the suburbs, and up into the hills.

“It’s complicated,” he said. “The best thing to do would be to get a taxi over the waterway straight to the Camino route.”

I’d prayed for help and this was my answer.

“I’ll call a taxi for you, if you’d like,” he offered. “I’ll make sure they understand exactly where to drop you.” I remembered my friend’s advice before the journey: “Get a lift if you need to, Connie. You’re not a twenty-something anymore.” I was thankful for that guidance at the crossroad, help for this pilgrim.

The weight of worry dropped from my shoulders. I was able to eat a leisurely breakfast on a rooftop terrace overlooking the harbor, no longer preoccupied with fear of getting lost in the tangle of that city. The woman taxi driver knew exactly where to connect me to the Camino. She lived nearby and I felt comfortable watching as we whizzed through all the twists and turns. Looking back at the city from the hillside, I could see how exhausted I would already be if I’d done those miles by foot.

The path soon went up into the forest and was a relief from the climbing heat. More pilgrims were on the path now that the Portuguese routes had converged for the final portion to Santiago. I made it to my lodging by 3:00 since the 10-mile day had been reduced by the taxi. How nice it was to have some extra time to explore the village of Redondela.

The next day, there were 13 miles to cover to make it to Pontevedra. There were two steep climbs and by mid-afternoon I was feeling very tired and thirsty; my water bottles had been empty for hours. Finally, there was a market where I bought water and a Coke Zero. I sat at a table next to a group of women, probably in their forties. The one woman closest to me started up a conversation. Her name was Sarah and she was from Australia. She asked me where I was staying in Pontevedra and looked it up on her phone.

“The village isn’t much further,” she said. “Your hotel is close to mine.”

It was taking me longer than usual to cool down. I was dehydrated and knew I’d better rest and drink more before taking off.

Sarah and the other women stood to leave.

“You can walk with us if you like,” she said and pulled on her backpack.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll stay a while longer. Maybe I’ll see you up ahead.”

Later, I looked at my map and headed out. It had been a harder day than I expected and a headache was forming from the dehydration. Entering into the village, the street signs weren’t in plain view. I felt like I was walking in a daze, my body and brain numb from exertion. I just kept stepping forward, hoping I’d amble onto the right street. When I was walking past a group having drinks, I heard someone call to me.

“Hey, there,” Sarah stood up from the table and walked over to me. “Have you found your place?”

“No, not yet.” I said, then added, “but I will.”

“I’ll walk with you,” she offered.

“That’d be great.”

She pulled my hotel up on her phone and pointed down the street.

We talked about our experiences of the Coastal Camino. She’d walked the main path from France last year and had liked the community of that more populated route. I agreed that there’d been a lot of time on the Portuguese path that had been quiet, with few fellow pilgrims. I added that today I was more tired and just needed time to rest.

She looked at me, then hesitated, then said, “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”

“No problem. I’m 69.”

She smiled and said, “You’re amazing!”

I didn’t feel amazing. I felt tired and like I was in a fog. But I heard her words and appreciated her encouragement.

We arrived at my lodging and she asked if she could take a photo of us. That selfie would go back with her to Australia.

I was grateful to find companionship on the way that had helped me when I was depleted. Sarah was another example of “people in your path” who were there to help you. I’d found them on the Camino and on the 17 Solo Journeys I’d taken in the past. I’d started each day with the prayer, “God, Bless Me and the People in My Path.” I was thankful for His faithfulness.

Best to you,

Connie