As the full moon dips below the clear horizon, the night air, cool against my bare shins, brushes past as if rushing to finish its route before the sun, who is announced by the rays of dawn, comes in full glory.
Clothes left out on the drying line overnight make for a damp morning but once again, it’s time to head to the next albergue.
The Peregrinos fist steps on the morning trail are breathed in prayer and and filled with hope for strength and a blessed day.
This day is greeted by a misty fog that now cloaks the ground like grandmas overstuffed blanket.
As the Peregrinos (or Pilgrims) hobble down the gravel path that marks clearly the Camino de Santiago, the sun begins to light up the sky.
With each step I wait in anticipation of the rising sun drying out the mist which inhibits the vista. I spy “spider dew” seemingly floating through the morning air.
I don’t want to forget its chaotic simplicity…