Farmer’s Lace

The Camino covers vast amounts of land, of course, much of which consists of farmers’ fields. Those fields, in turn, are laced with miles and miles (kilometers and kilometers) of barbed wire, electric and other fencing, designed to contain goats, sheep, pigs, cows and horses. It does a pretty good job.

Sometimes you have to step through a primitive gate in the fencing. You’ll press something or pull something and a little door is pulled back, a narrow passage for a pilgrim to step through, often over toppley rocks or upended 2-by-4s masquerading as steps.

You see where this is going, yes?

Today I toppled. Landed on my butt. As I was checking out my back, and my pride, Jerry let me know I’d cut my arm on barbed wire. I looked and sure enough, it was true. I thought, Whoa, so that’s what the inside of my arm looks like.

I’m afraid I won’t be able to write that entry, Reader, he’s getting on my last nerve... Because he was cool under pressure and got me on my feet, clean, sensible, and bandaged up. Good man…

Now in Llanes, about to go to sleep. My arm is steri-stripped back together and not as bad as it could have been. Not the worst day. Not the best. Not much pain, not much pride. Whatever. Tomorrow we begin again!

In Spanish, barbed wire is alambre de espino: Prickly wire.

Prickly? Prickly!!?

S.