THE LONGEST DAY

Part Two: To Noja



Never trust a hill which has a name. And when its name is "El Brusco", you might expect that it could be abrupt, rough, even rude. Luckily it wasn't quite as much like Cleopatra's Needle as the profile in my excellent guidebook suggested, but it was plenty steep for all that. I was lulled into a false sense of security when I viewed from across the bay. Why, its not even very tall, I thought. However, I was soon to discover that its name was well-earned.




It didn't help that the first hundred feet or so of the climb was in loose sand. After that it was bright orange clay studded with rocks. The rocks were polished by the passage of centuries of feet, human and animal. I was glad I was here on a dry and sunny day. I worried about Gisbert, a day behind me, and rain in the forecast.







It was beautiful to be able to look at long strands of beach both before me and behind me. I met a few goats and was once again put to shame by a father and his two young sons out for a holiday scramble. But I was happy as I always was to be beside the sea. Once I got down the other side of the hill, I was to make a discovery. Walking in your bare feet on hard wet sand is the best therapy for tired feet. I walked all the way to Noja that way, and on every beach thereafter. It made you feel even more free than even the idea that you were wandering along with no responsibility! I suspect people would hike naked if it weren't for the pack straps chafing. Certainly people felt free to bathe naked. None of them looked as natural as this little dog though. He's so in tune with nature that he's barely visible!



I arrived in Noja, a lovely clean resort town with wide plazas and an imposing church, in time for lunch. I had a great sandwich and a few cokes under a green umbrella, served by a young man, who by his non-lisping pronunciation and his Indio features must have been from the New World. I felt like we were cousins! More sabotaging homesickness at work!

The little tramp was right behind me, but didn't stop for lunch. I figured that, like me, he was probably headed for Guemes that night. Everybody wants to stay in Guemes, at the albergue run by Padre Ernesto, one of the Camino Angels, por seguro! Our paths had been criss-crossing for two days now. It was about time we met!