Day 11 - May 18th: Feliz Aniversário!
Villafranca del Bierzo to Molinaseca: 17.24 miles / 286 total
Our big shout out today is to my partner Christina for a happy birthday! Kind of. She was born in Brazil on May 19, but they got the birth certificate wrong by one day—May 18th. Mom and Dad never fixed it, so she has two birthdays: the official one on her birth certificate today, and the speakeasy/underground one tomorrow. Christina, may the Camino and the next year bring you health, happiness, and love—you deserve it all!
The big story right now is my left shin. What began as a shin splint on the outer side—swollen tendon, one bad day—responded to ice, anti-inflammatories, and massage. But then the inside of the shin started taking the load. I didn’t think much of it until yesterday, when I noticed it was black and blue and tender to the touch. Painful. Toward the end of the day, I got worried. And then I got a call from Ted.
John and I have always said Ted has built-in radar for weakness. Normally that sets off his good-natured beat-down mode, but this time he knew the stakes. He said, “Better to go slow than quit and it's over.” Perfect timing.
So today: no running. Plenty of ice and elevation. I cut the distance from 51 km to 30 km to see if the leg responds. I’m not thinking too far ahead—just reassess at the end of today.
On a positive note, Jax is back out on the trail, full of energy. His paws are looking solid and he was super out there today.
Christina reserved a stay at a Spanish Parador, a state-run hospitality option. Anyone traveling through Spain should look into these. They’re usually located at historically significant places, with stunning buildings, scenic grounds, solid service, and excellent meals. Only drawback: dinner doesn’t start until 8:30 p.m. and breakfast isn’t served until 8 a.m.—not great for early movers.
The trail out of Villafranca del Bierzo—an important pilgrim hub since the 9th century—was quiet this morning. With Sarria behind me, it was exactly what I needed. The path led Jax and me through vineyards full of Mencía grapes. I hadn’t heard of this grape before. Last night at dinner, I thought I was ordering a bottle from the Mencía region, only to learn it was the grape itself—and a very good one. This area is known for it. Worth remembering if you're passing through; I don't recall seeing it stateside.
On a road section of the Camino, hugging the shoulder as we transitioned back to the trail, I passed a woman who smiled and, instead of the usual "Buen Camino," said an enthusiastic, “Hello!” Her name is Lynne—and she’s one of the most interesting people I’ve met so far. She was kind enough to let me film our interview. As you watch, know I had no idea what she was about to share.
Afterward, we talked more. She’s a nurse from Lancaster, Pennsylvania. We spoke about the toll COVID took in her area. Many Amish refused vaccination, and Lancaster became one of the highest death-rate regions in the country. Her daughter, an ER nurse, was putting 5–6 people in body bags a day.
Lynne told me about a couple she met earlier on the Camino. They’d walked together for a few days until the wife died of a heart attack in a hostel. Lynne now carries a photo of them on her pack and stays in touch with the 80-year-old husband. He’s invited her to visit him in Salisbury, and she plans to go.
This is my second Sunday on the road, and again, a reminder: Sundays in Spain and Portugal are like walking through an empty movie set. Everything is shut down—except for bars. They're full of locals, drinking beer, smoking, and talking until sunset.
We unknowingly booked the Nomad Hotel in Molinaseca—the same one Amy, Yash, and I stayed in three years ago and loved. Molinaseca is itself a beautiful little town—with a medieval stone bridge over the Meruelo River and a Baroque chapel at the town’s edge.
The shin isn’t worse after the lighter day. Hopefully, that’s a sign I’m on the right track.
Thank you for following, and for the support.
Cheers,
David
