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...
There are two types of Camino pilgrims. Whether outdoorsy and sporty or fresh from the office and soft, the first shoulders a massive backpack weighted by bedroll, air pillow, and similar backcountry/wilderness explorer-gear, and nightly bunks mostly dressed in...
Since we weren’t on walkers, why not walk? No one needed a knee replaced, a new hip or two, so why not make our 70th birthdays something to remember? Friends since pre-school, Gina and I wanted Europe, we wanted adventure, we wanted to return home after an athletic...
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