Picture it: Newfoundland, 2014. (Sophia from the Golden Girls reference....imagine I have a bad white wig on my head and dainty purse hanging from my forearm). My good buddy Cheryl and I were on a trip to tour Newfoundland in a week. Notable moments: we must have gone 4000 miles (6k km) in only a week, saw a beached whale (selfie!!), I lost my cell phone near thousands of squalking birds from a scene out of a horror film and were navigationless for a day, saw the sun rise in the most eastern part of North America, hiked in gros morne, tried a terrible fried chicken chain for the first time, saw snow covered mounds in Saint Anthony where the vikings lived and the first 'European' was born, tried poutine with stuffing, taught Cheryl how to drive a stick shift, and we were screeched in in a sketchy bar in St John's) We saw it all! We were there in April... so there was still snow - doh!! (Simpsons reference). On day 2, we decided to go sled dogging (as opposed to the more familiar dog sledding because all I saw was the sled).
I found a woman named Elaine Pinard online who had sled dogs and offered to take people out on them. What better way to experience Gros Morne than on a sled dog?? We arrived to the sound of 60 barking dogs. Elaine took one look at us and immediately brought layers and layers of clothes for us to put on. Uh oh. We went out to the dogs who were jumping and jerking in 2 rows of 6 dogs per sled, literally nailed to the ice. The sled behind them was a few thin pieces of wood with a little metal 'brake' to slow them down. Elaine suggested we go across the frozen lake and up into the hills, looking at us as if we knew enough to protest. Okay? - we replied. Since we were going over a lake, it would be better if someone were in the sled, because we were driving. She drove the first team over and I followed behind with Cheryl (ever trusting Cheryl) in the sled. The only advice she gave us was - stand on the two woden slats, if you need to slow down, use the brake (a square piece of metal perpendicular to the ice that you push down), and whatever you do - don't let go. You'll have to chase the dogs. Oh - and because we are going on ice not snow, the dogs will want to go fast, but don't let them, but don't use the brake because the ice is thin. These were my instructions and my dear friend trusted me with her life. I was ever grateful for her stabilization in the sled as the dogs were jerking and jumping, as if ready to launch into orbit!! I really thought there would be a training course or waiver or something, but no... it's a learn as you go kind of activity.
So Elaine removes the spike and off we go. The dogs speed ahead, pulling us behind, we slow on the curves (I gently press the break hearing ice crack as I do), but we get across. Cheryl goes to her team and Elaine joins the guy on the snowmobile that leads the dogs up the path. When you imagine sled dogs, or at least when I do, I think of getting a ride. Apparently expecting the dogs to pull my big butt uphill is unreasonable, so in what felt like 15 layers of clothes, I start running uphill with the dogs. However, as soon as you step off the sled, the dogs relieved of the weight, go faster, so there's a weird dance of slow ride, jump off, quick! Run!, slow, go, while always holding on. If you need a break, you apply the brake with your foot, putting every ounce of force you have in you down, while holding in and leaning back. Not much of a break. The dogs are so annoyed to stop, even though you can see how tired they are, that they jump and jerk ahead, and there is only your body angled against a metal plate to stop them.
I am not particularly coordinated, but if there is a patron saint of sports, she was with me in that moment. At one point Cheryl lost her dogs, and like some kind of The Rock/Superman suaveness, I reach over and catch them while simultaneously stopping my dogs. What!?! I have been known to fall while standing still... I too lost my dogs and had to go chasing after them. In thick snow pants and coat through the heavy snow, that was not fun! Later I was sledding along, and suddenly realized I was on my back, staring at the sky, and my foot was caught in the rope as I was being dragged along. In some kind of James Bond motion only a few moments later, I was back up and on the sled, as if were all a dream. Crazy.
We stopped for lunch at the top and Elaine cooked hot dogs and melted maple syrup which she then poured over the snow and spiraled around a spoon - a heavenly caramel lollipop! While she was boiling the water, Cheryl and I descended down a sink hole. Turns out that's a real thing! We had ice picks loosely connected to our shoes with string, held onto a rope with our hands, and descended 20 feet down at an 85 degree slope. We turned around - and sure enough there was water and ice that descended hundreds of feet down the hole, which we admired while hanging onto the rope and standing/leaning against the slope, praying our spikes would hold. Again - insane.
On the return journey - no the story isn't over ... the ice had apparently melted in the warm sun, and Elaine had my phone to take photos, but she accidentally recorded the entire journey back. The skido fell into the water and I have a video of her pocket, with her cursing and laughing in french. Yes that's right - we were literally skating on thin ice. The dogs made it back, much to our relief and were rewarded with skinned seal meat (the skins more useful to be sold, the meat worthless). Every muscle I had hurt. Every. I didn't know how many there were! We headed up to Saint Anthony that day (12 hour drive) with a hike on the way to a glacier, and every time I had to shift to a different gear I groaned in pain. What a ride!!
That brings me to the camino. Ditto. For realz.
For the unoreparedness, the 'oh crap what did I do', and the lack of direction. I started in Viano do Castelo, with Jose from Greenwalks to show me the first 200m and take me through a gorgeous tiled church Our Lady of Mercy, with the corporal works of mercy on the ceiling, including 'aid the pilgrims' (that's me!!)
There are so many different demarkations for the camino, a yelow painted arrow on a wall or the ground, a bronze cut out shell with an arrow, a blue plastic placard, a decal, and they can be on any surface at any height, randomly spread out. The 'x's are paricularly helpful as they are often where I want to go. There are times I am sure I am lost, but I see an arrow. Other times I catchthe arrows like a boss, one after another without even thinking about it.
Needless to say, google saved me a few times, including in the first few minutes. I walked for about five hours straight, going the wrong way for only about 45 minutes, so lost in thought that I missed a turn and wondered why it was so far between arrows. I saw grape on the vine and the coast, a bunch of cats and barking dogs behind gates, locked churches, high stone walls, fresh blackberries and gorgeous flowers.
For lunch, I paused at the the cafe along the way and got cheese, sliced meat (like a slinly sliced version of the chinese pork we enjoy from Albertson's in Idaho - high praise), bread, and an apple / pear. I am not sure which - it looks like an apple but tastes like a pear. Amazing! I stopped in Ancora at a four star hotel (excuse you!!) with my bags sent ahead in this Camino lite. Among the dozen people I saw (passed) today, I am the only without a bag, and was even scorned for this. Thanks german friendly person... see ya! I saw one other person travelling alone and she flew by me! I said 'bom camino' and shared a line or two with a few people - from spain and germany, but stuck to myself (shocker).
After 5 hours of walking, I was very okay with a hot bath and nap, followed by mass in Our Lady of Care (according to google translate - I feel like that's close but wrong). In the church, the mysteries of the rosary were on the ceiling, and I found the visitation especially poignant as well as the Our Lady statue was reminiscent of the Bon Secours chapel.
I sat by myself and was sandwiched by two Portuguese older women. Judging by how full the church was (full even for a Monday), I was in their pew! I wandered down to the coast and stepped into the Atlantic Ocean - from the other side. It was freezing! Peakes river cold!! It was nice to see familiar mussels and the coast - even if it was windy and chilly.
I finished the night with a long European meal, taking time to document my travels and enjoy some vegatables, my first in almost a week. Apparently after a week of bread and cheese, the body starts to crave greens. I was here from 8 until 11, watching the sun set and seeing the crowd change from young families to young grown-ups. I tried sardine pâte, a local favorite, freshly caught cod with a rice/bean/broccoli/cabbage magic with white wine from the neaby Duoro Valley, and finished with a mousse and tawny port. Oh yes. This camino thing rocks!! (But the start was as unfamiliar, unnerving, and crazy as sled-dogging through Newfoundland. I don't know if Elaine is still giving tours, I wiuld be surprised if she was, but I will never forget that day).
Today was an easy day - 33,000 steps and around 19 km (prob 21 with my side paths), 66 stories! I am ready for tomorrow (with maybe one more hot bath in case there are only showers ahead....)
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