Oct 4. Hornillos to Castrojeriz.  21.1 km

Here we are in Castrojeriz. Today was very much like yesterday. We began th day with an uphill climb to the top of a meseta (similar to a butte in the western US), again cloaked in a thick fog. If there was anything to see, we "mist" it. (I've been waiting all day to put that in writing!)

With so little visibility ility this morning and so much more farmland this afternoon, there has been plenty of time for reflection and prayer.  So this writing shall be a sharing of some of my thoughts from the last two days. First, no surprise to anyone who knows me, I could never have done this myself. I watch many people walking alone and I wonder how they do it. It's not even a fear of getting lost. For the signs are easy to find and everyone is so helpful. I've been enjoying the companionship of Dad. Once he limits himself to one bad joke a day and one silly song, the rest is pretty companionable silence punctuate by family stories. Or tidbits of information about places has been or things he's read. And then he forgets the one joke a day rule....  so I'm thankful for this time together.

And then I'd like to know why God made so many rocks. I have never seen rocks like this in one place. The farmers have built stone walls. The houses are made out of stone. There are piles of them everywhere and still they litter the fields. Why?  How do the farm in this soil? Where did they all come from?

Once again there was no mass last night. The church was open for prayer. Such huge, magnificent structures and no worship. And here, there are no other uses for sanctuaries. They do not have adjoining halls for gatherings. These sacred spaces are set aside for the worship of God. So, perhaps in the smallest of villages it is enough that they stand as reminders that God dwells among us. And perhaps it is enough that they are open for pilgrims to offer silent prayer.

Finally, our last stop of the day was at the remains of a convent. Not a town, but a solitary arch in the middle of nowhere. A resourceful man placed there a shelter, a cooler, some fruit and beverages as a welcome oasis to weary pilgrims. As we entered he brought us fresh slices of watermelon and offer us a seat. After he served the customers he retired in the corner to his hammock where he conversed with us informing us that the Spanish work to live, not live to work and they take their rest where and when it is offered. Not a bad philosophy for life.

Buen Camino