“It’s your road and yours alone. Others may walk it with you, but no one can walk it for you.” – Rumi

The smell of the trail after a rain. The smell of the trail in the baking sun. All jasmine and cow manure and other odors attacking the senses. I wonder if I will remember the sweetness of the roses outside our Melinde hotel long after I forget the name of the town. Or how strange it was to smell India here in Galicia, jasmine being the prominent feature in our garlands.

Then a rooster crows, sounding angry, though it’s the middle of the morning and you’ve been up for hours, walking. Other birds present a more melodic, steady chorus of greeting in and through the woods. The buzz of engines mean you are close to a bridge or crossing or path hugging one of the many highways the Camino intersects. Sometimes at night, you hear the thunder cracking, announcing the rain that would soon follow.

Along the way, you see dozens of picturesque windowsills, brightly adorned with flowers. There are perfectly manicured lawns and greens lining the sidewalks and exteriors of ancient walls. You marvel at the lush rolling hills, rushing rivers, and Galician cathedrals that have stood the test of time.

If you’re lucky, you see purple morning skies and pink evening ones, reminding us it all bleeds together perfectly here in northern Spain. All these scents, sounds, and sights, all at once, and all for us.

[Photo: the Galician countryside between Portomarin and Palas de Reis, Spain]