Day 20- Who Needs Yellow Dots

Back on Day 12 I recounted my experience walking through a huge herd of cattle. I wished some of my son’s fraternity brothers who were cattlemen could have given me some tips on how to pass through as I didn’t want to have any problems. Jack noted in the Comments section of Day 12 “You have to be one with the herd”. Was he joking? Was he serious? I didn’t know. Sounded fishy to me. Anyway, yesterday I was walking a stretch of the Camino with 2 other Pilgrims. We came upon a herd that had completely taken over the trail. The other two Pilgrims were extremely nervous about trying to get through them all. I said “Follow me and become one with the herd”. I willed myself to be one with the herd and the others tucked in behind me. I got us safely through and the other 2, amazed and grateful, thanked me. Was I an idiot or hero? You make the call.

Now to the yellow dots (discussed in Day 11). When I reached the bustling metropolis of Caparra I met a woman from Colombia who was staying in the same hotel. We waited together for the hotel owner to pick us up. He told us of a brand new trail off the Camino that would take us right to our next destination. He said it was very beautiful and no roads. It seemed he described what we know as a Rails to Trails route. It’s called “Camino Natural” but not yet recognized or sanctioned. Could I turn my back on the dots and step into the unknown? Marta, the Colombian, urged me to walk it with her, basically telling me not to be a big baby. Since she obviously spoke fluent Spanish and could get help from locals if we got lost, I decided to throw caution to the wind and venture onto the Camino Natural. It was awesome, the trail was smooth, only a few water hazards, no cattle, no other Pilgrims just locals walking and biking as any rail to trail path would have. 5 1/2 hours later we were at our destination. We said our good byes and another Camino day complete.

Marta the Colombian. She is a grandmother and she showed me a picture of her “American” grandchildren as her daughter married a foreigner, an American. The grandparent battle was on. Not to be outdone, I proudly showed her a picture of my Guatemalan grandson Jasper. Mine was cuter. Her grandchildren were in their 20s.

Note the carving on the wooden bridge

I safely made it across. My balance is improving. After the plunge I took on Day 1, you have no idea how stoked I was to make over dry.

Entrance to Banos de Montemayor today’s destination