Day 12 - May 19th: The Guides
Molinaseca to Rabal del Camino: 16.53 miles / 303 total
We start today’s entry with the only person I know who has two birthdays in a year. Here is part 2: Happy underground birthday, Christina.
Coach Lisa has been imploring me to find compression socks for my shin. No luck for two days—none of the pharmacies had any. And today, Sunday, everything was closed. Christina and I went through all seven restaurants in the small village of Molinaseca and chose one that had a menu del día. As we walked there in light rain, we passed the one pharmacy in town—and unbelievably, it was open at 7 p.m. We stepped inside and explained the situation.
The pharmacist, dark-haired with thick black-rimmed glasses, listened carefully, measured my ankle and shin, and disappeared into a back room. She emerged with Jobst Sport Compression Socks and said she had two in size medium. Exactly what I needed—what I really, really needed. What are the odds?
In Lisa’s words: “Set an intention, meditate on it, watch it arrive.” And it does. Thank you, Camino. Thank you, Lisa.
After sleeping with the sleeve and icing, I woke up feeling the pain had dulled a bit—progress. We decided to repeat yesterday’s mileage, around 25–30 km, and see if it continued to improve. I’m still ahead of schedule and confident that if I fall behind but feel strong, I can make it up.
The route out of Molinaseca was the prettiest so far. After crossing its famous bridge, the trail angled up into the mountains on a cool morning. Every day I’ve worn my Patagonia Houdini jacket, but today I skipped it and wore only a t-shirt. I usually shed the jacket after a few kilometers anyway. But this time, as pilgrims passed me fully geared with jackets, gloves, and hats, I realized my mistake. About 10 km up into the mountains, we broke into the clouds, and I paid for it. Rookie mistake!
In the first few kilometers on a ridge, with the sun shining and snowcapped peaks in the distance, I stopped to chat with two women—Colleen, who’s English, and Anita from Alabama—doing the French Camino together. I assumed they had just met, but it turns out Colleen had done her first Camino after a cancer diagnosis and felt so good doing it that she’s now completed nine full French Way crossings, around 800km, plus numerous others. A true expert. She even suggested a route I hadn’t known about at the end bridging the French Way to the Via Tolosana at Oloron Sainte Marie. I asked why she keeps doing it, and she said people ask her to come along because of her experience—and she can’t resist. You can find her at www.thenwewalked.com. Thank you, Colleen.
A few kilometers later, now fully in the clouds and missing my jacket, I was passed—yes, passed—for the first time by a youthful, fit woman that I thought might be Scarlett Johanssnon. Abby, an Australian Camino tour guide, ultra runner and physiology expert, surprised both Jax and me. We had a great conversation about ultra running and dove deep into the topic. She was gracious enough to offer her contact info in case I need advice on all the different trails.
The trail was magnificent today. I crested the top where I came upon the Cruz de Ferro, one of the Camino’s most iconic symbols. For nearly a thousand years, pilgrims have carried a small stone from home to leave at the base of this iron cross—laying down burdens one step, one stone at a time. From there, the trail meandered along the mountaintops in the mist, and then descended through muddy tracks to Rabanal del Camino, where Christina managed to secure the only available room in town.
Jax had a blast—ripping through the mud, leaping through tall grass, and sitting by a pond trying to figure out where all the noise was coming from. I was concerned about the downhill stretch—it was steep and rocky—but I’m cautiously optimistic that my tibia isn’t any worse.
Rabanal itself is a really cool village that has served pilgrims for centuries. I wandered into The Church of Santa María, dating back to the 12th century.
All for today. Thanks for the support!
Cheers,
David
