Behind the Albergue Door: Inspiration Agony Adventure on the Camino de Santiago

sour socks, and the guys wearing rubber gloves weren’t doctors, they were just Danish. We hiked with a girl who had so many blisters on her feet that she lost entire layers of skin and sometimes preferred to just keep going rather than take breaks and let her feet get their hopes up. We hiked with another girl who was still recovering from a pre-hike broken foot when it became necessary for her to make an emergency dental appointment. We hiked with a guy who was ravaged by bed bugs and had his body react so poorly that his arms resembled a layer of bubble wrap around a red fire log. Girls with badly sprained ankles, guys with dislocated backs, women with broken toes, men with neck spasms, Brits with sunburns. It was a real horror show some days.
    As bad as that all sounds, though, we only knew of one person who had to quit because of injury (blisters), and another who only had two weeks planned but probably wouldn’t have been able to go further anyway (once again, blisters). There were a few who ended up using the bus to skip a stage or two. Some that occasionally sent their bags ahead so they didn’t have to carry them. Lots who spent entire days fighting through considerable amounts of pain. All of us took morbid pleasure in sharing our difficulties and wallowing in self-pity. And in case you are already working on your Christmas list you should know that by the time you’re done your feet will be at least a half a size larger than they are now. All things considered, though, I think you will be more physically prepared and emotionally resilient if you have at least some idea what to expect going in. Obviously everyone is going to be different, arriving in vastly varying physical conditions, with all different medical histories, different methods for dealing with blisters and an exhilaratingly wide array of socks. But a chance to learn from history and the pain of others is never a bad idea, and can make for some fun reading, as well.
    Problem:
    Knee
    I have been lucky enough to have never experienced anything beyond minor physical inconveniences while hiking (such as blisters, sore toes and that weird cracking jaw issue that went away about the same time I stopped having that recurring dream about sharing a vat of salt water toffee with my barber). Which is why I became loudly annoyed, and quietly concerned, when my knee started aching less than two hours into the hike up the Pyrenees on day one (a little less than 1% of the way to Santiago).
    Solution:
    I j ust kept walking while favouring it slightly and swearing under my breath. Then I frowned as hard as I could until eventually it just went away.
    A German girl we knew was actually hiking with arthritic knees and spent much of every afternoon doing what she could to bring the swelling down in lieu of any nearby ice machines, apparently the next best thing being rags dipped in lukewarm water. I don’t know that there was any solution exactly, but she finished the Camino before we did and then, as if she hadn’t already made us look bad enough, continued on another hundred kilometres to Finisterre. Now that I think about it she kind of pisses me off.
    Of course, countless other pilgrims also found themselves dealing with countless other knee issues, some that eventually sorted themselves out and others that lingered and stymied like a Republican filibuster after a drinking lunch at TGI Friday’s. The steep downhill sections were the worst, maybe only outdone by the steep downhill sections on loose shale. The steady hum of complaints was hard to accurately compare, consistently bitchy as it was, though it did seem especially loud at the end of those days.
    Problem:
    Big Toe Knuckle
    No, that’s not the name of my high school air band. Well, not just that, anyway. Over the years soccer has done a bit of a number on the big toe on my right foot, the one I use predominantly when shooting, passing, tripping or kicking the ground petulantly. It turns out that Big Toe – Right Side, let’s call him Ed for now, gets angry when asked to spend long days hiking while stuffed tightly into stiff leather hiking shoes. And Ed deals with that anger by aching like a son of a bitch and swelling up like a bunion in training (yet another trait that seems to have trickled down from my McFadzen side along with gambling poorly and a love of cursing).
    Solution:
    A nifty little trick Laynni suggested, one she probably got from a hiking magazine or cobbler’s convention or