I knew within the first 15 minutes I got on my bike that my day was going to be intersting. I started late beacuse of th rain. I was hoping it would pass, so I just hung out with the owners of the Albergue, and played on the internet until the rain stopped. It finally did and I headed out of town. About 10 minutes, I thought to myself, "I cannot see anything"! So I stopped on the side of the road and searched for my glasses. No where to be found.. so I headed back up the hill to the Albergue. After the owner and I searched the entire place, I realized that they were actaully on my head under my helmet. I just started to laugh and my Brazillian friend also found it amuzing.
It did not stop there...
It started to rain...again (now I know why this country is so green). Not sprinkle, but hurt my face and sting my lips hard. I had to make a decision. Stop and sit in a cafe and be wet and cold, or keep on going and be wet and cold, but not as cold if I was sitting in a cafe. So I kept on climbing the 1,200 ft climb that spanded about 10 miles..then went down the mountain pass that expended about 15 miles or so. With all the rain, I did not want to stop and ceck out the map...I mean what is so hard with following little shells? Right? Wrong....
I did not even know I had made a wrong turn about 15 miles back up the mountain pass until I stopped for lunch and took out the map to see how far and what elevation I needed to cycle to get to the sleeping destination for the night. I soon found, that the cafe I am eating my 15th tuna sandwich in the past 3 weeks, is not listed in the towns that follows the Cameno. Luckly, I found a teenager that spoke a little english. She just looked at me and said, "you in wrong place...go pack up mountain". I then proceed to say many engish cuss words.. I sounded like a drunkin sailor. I do not think she knew what I was saying, just looked and smiled. After consulting a map with my teenage navigator, we found a alternate route that was not "so much up the mountain" but scaling the ridge of the mountain then over and down...about 30k out of the way. So this lost pilgrim hopped back on the bike to find the correct "The Way" to Santiago.
You know how I said how things always work out for the best? Well this is no exception. My alternate route was exactly with Pepe was talking about..... goose bumps beautiful. Tingles all over-beautiful. 
It was so beautifulk that I did not even mind when I stepped off the side of the road to adjust my back pack for the 20th time that day and landed right in a mud pit that was calf deep. So this wet, lost, muddy pilgrim just laughed it off again and headed down the road again.
BTW... I did make it....with only a 30k detour.
Amore, K
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