The mountains; León – La Robla (29km)

July 11, 2026

I woke up at 4:45am, before my alarm. There were still festivities from the night of Spain’s win going on, but luckily my earplugs and bunkmates were quiet. I respectfully snuck out with my backpack and packed everything in the common area, texting Polish that I was awake.

We had breakfast together, very slowly. My stomach was anxious but he didn’t rush me. The most patient and gentle man I’ve ever met.

After an hour, we eventually started back onto the camino together, until the split in the road.  

We passed some parties in the streets as the sun began to slowly rise.

Slow rise.

Slow depart.

And there it was: the fork.

Frances vs San Salvador.

And we always knew it would be this way. Journeys to honour. We promised to stay in touch, especially as we got closer to Santiago.

My heart sank as he walked away. I’ve done this before. Every time I get to Leon, there is an alternative route and we must split.

I wonder what this symbolism is showing me.

I sat with it. And I cried.

I really missed his company, and just knowing he was nearby.

Sigh. I let it go.

I remind myself I have everything I need.

A rollercoaster of emotions.

I feel I walk through a ghost town on a Saturday morning, not seeing anyone except a few runners.

Slowly, I climb up to the hills. The mountains in front of me. The trails become more natural. The temperature is cool after last nights rain, perfect for walking. I shed a layer.

I see some hunters. Views of mountains. I am feeling really good in my body. Strong and brave.

As I climb, I breathe in the smell of wet herbaceous plants.

My mind starts to wander…it’s incredible how quickly you fall in love with someone’s soul on the Camino. How quickly a connection forms. A day on camino is a week, and a week is a year.

What is this pull teaching me?

This mountain is shaping my inner landscape. My emotional tectonic plates are getting displaced. The movement is shocking and destabilizing. I want to turn around, but I know it’s better if I climb and hold the fort down.

I breathe. I have everything I need.

It feels like I’m walking in a magical fairy land; lush forests and relics hidden in the trees.

I feel great and energize and I want to keep walking, pushing my limits. Maybe my mind is trying to purge.

The terrain becomes more technical and I need to focus on each step.

Part of me wants to rush because I am alone, and I feel untouchable and uncomfortable, but a part of me wants to slow down and really sink into the presence.

Muggy humid air. It starts to get warmers and the bugs are flying around my sweaty face.

I reach the only cafe of this 30km stretch at 20k deep. I pause for an espresso, coke and tortilla.

Onwards.

The village is approaching. My body is tired and the temperature is climbing. The ugly factory road mocks me, forcing me to walk alongside the highways near the factory. I don’t feel safe here. The shoulder is narrow.

I finally arrive in the village, going directly to the albergue. I am the first one there. There is a sign on the door to call. Not this again. I just want to show up and not plan.

She said the door is open and that she will check in after 6pm.

I am alone in an albergue. This feels creepy.

I try to relax. I message Belgium and he says he’s not coming anymore. I take a shower. I hear the front door. I get dressed and see an old Spanish man. I don’t like his energy but I try to be friendly. We grab a beer at the bar but I find his energy difficult and exhausting. I am bored of the conversation.

Now I wish I was alone again.

I go to the grocery store to buy dinner and snack supplies, then come back.

I do my laundry and see the American insect girl from two days ago. What a relief. I’m happy to dilute the energy. I take some time to write, but I’m not tired enough to nap.

I make an early dinner and plan for a big day tomorrow. The climb. I can do it. I want to push ahead and do a double day so I can have sunrise in the mountains with nobody around me.

***

Frances swaddles pilgrims so you have everything you need to focus on walking. San Salvador makes you think and work for it.

The climb.

If I was subterranean in the desert, then it’s time for me to emerge from the dust. Clawing my way up.

Extra effort and alone with my demons. Let’s see what comes to visit tomorrow.

xoxo surrender