Camino Blog: Day 9 – 17 July
🎵 Song of the Day:
On Top of the World – Imagine Dragons
Because despite the loss… it was a joyful, connected, full day.
📸 Photo of the Day:
“The First Sunflower on the Camino”
Spotted alone, but shining — a reminder that beauty arrives when you least expect it.
Camino Reflection
I left the auberge in León just after 6 a.m., stepping into the cool hush of early morning. Within the first 20 minutes, I’d already seen four other pilgrims. That made all the difference — I wasn’t alone. It confirmed what I already hoped: starting from León was the right call. I felt part of the Camino again.
It took a full three hours to walk out of the city. Pavement, intersections, roundabouts. Normally, that might have drained me, but today it didn’t. Because I wasn’t alone. There were pilgrims all around me — walking quietly, chatting softly, waving from café chairs. The city became a river of moving people, and I was flowing with it.
The Camino was giving today. Giving people, energy, laughter, shade, and café stops. I think I only walked alone for an hour. The rest of the time I was with others — strangers, friends-in-the-making, fellow searchers. It felt like what the Camino is supposed to feel like: shared.
And then, just as quickly, the Camino took.
I lost my wallet.
One moment I had it, the next I didn’t. Panic hit — I stopped, retraced steps, checked bags, walked back, asked around. I must’ve spent an hour hunting. But at some point, I had to let go. It was gone. Just gone.
So, I made a decision: I’ll finish this Camino with the cash I have and whatever I can manage on my phone. No going back.
And then, something beautiful happened. The people in the village where I stopped were kind beyond belief. One café owner gave me a drink, another handed me food. Word spread up and down the Camino that “a pilgrim lost his wallet.” People looked out for me, checked their tables, asked each other. That kindness — unexpected and unearned — was one of the most moving parts of the day.
Later, I met a woman named Yvonne. Her husband died last year. We talked about mourning — the slow, strange way it works. She cried a bit. So did I. And then we walked a few minutes together in silence. There’s something about the Camino that allows grief to surface gently — like it belongs here.
Tonight, I’m sitting at the Jesús auberge. It’s busy and full of energy. There’s even a swimming pool. I might go take a dip later and let the day settle.
I also saw the first sunflower of this Camino. Just one, by the path — but it felt like it was waving at me. Not planted by me this time. Just waiting. Like a quiet reminder that you’re never really walking alone.
Wallet gone. But peace returned. I think I’m going to be okay.
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