Becky and Jim, a spirited sixtyish couple that Gina and I met Day 2 of our Camino, had dropped out. “I don’t believe it.” Gina alerted me by text when she saw the Facebook post. “They were SO gung-ho.” Just so! Fit, fierce, and committed since the previous year when...
“Okay, kitty, it’s just you and me now. What do you want to do?” I stared at little Camino lying in my lap paws up, staring back. His big milk-plump tummy taunted him, sleep, sleep, sleep, but instead he fixed his eyes on mine, defiant. He didn’t speak, yet I clearly...
Gina and I lay back on the twin beds of our inn, already in pajamas at eight o’clock, and watched the Camino kitten tear around the room. Too tiny to climb the curtains, he pranced and dashed from corner to corner, while I on my phone sent frantic, pleading emails to...
He – she? – seemed no more than mouse-size, when I turned around to look. Its tiny yet piercing screams sounded unlike any Camino creature we had so far encountered – the scurrying shrews, squirrels, rabbits; the melodic Spanish birdsong carried on the breeze. The...
Not so bad. The Charlemagne slope, while sloppy, made our shoes muddy but not our spirits. “I might have broken a little sweat,” said a triumphant Gina at the summit. Above the forest with the smile of the sun upon us, our nearly four hours of steep up-and-up gave us...
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