NOVEL — THE JUNGIAN PILGRIM

What’s Going On With the Photos?

Chapter Forty-Nine — An odd light surrounding some of the pilgrims

The group left La Faba at seven after having breakfast. By the time we reached O’Cebreiro, only five kilometres from La Faba, we were ready for a rest. We had walked uphill all the way, gaining four hundred metres in altitude. And we had done that while walking in the rain. We were more than ready for a hot cup of coffee and a bowl of soup in O’Cebreiro.

We sat by a window, watching a constant parade of pilgrims, as well as what had to be tourists carrying umbrellas and cameras. O’Cebreiro was bustling with more people than any village we had yet seen on the Camino.

“Wow!” spoke Fred with amazement. “This place is rocking. I’m going to have to come back here again and just hang out.”

“Yeah,” I echoed, “it’s some-kind-of-amazing is right.”

I turned from the window and noticed an odd light enveloping my friends. I didn’t know if it was a trick of the light, but it held a magical feeling. Taking out the camera, I asked, “Do you mind if I take a group photo?”

A collective smile was given, so I took several shots from various angles hoping that I had somehow captured the glow that surrounded them, something I could only verify when working on the photos back in Canada with the large-screen computer monitor.

“Here,” said Fred, “give me the camera and I’ll take a photo of you with the others. And how about I get one of the other pilgrims to take a photo of our whole group?”

“Sounds good,” I agreed. “But first, let me take a few more. I want some individual shots as well, and that includes you too, Buddy.”

Shortly after taking the photos, we noticed that the rain had changed to a light shower. It was time to head back out onto the trail. Occasionally, during the rest of the morning, the sun broke through, showing the countryside in sparkling shades of green, painting the Galician world as a land of legends and magic.

We passed signs of a spiritual world that had been in Galicia since before the arrival of Christianity, with dolmens, burial mounds over 5,000 years old. The land was still alive with myths and magic. It was in the very air and the light of the land.

Despite the risk of more rain, we found a private little glade not far off the path that allowed us to return to the ritual of skyclad meditation. I was surprised at my body’s response to the chill and dampness as I took my seat in the circle. If anything, I felt warmer nude than when I had been dressed only moments earlier.

Sid began to speak:

“This very moment is the perfect teacher, this very moment is always with us — just seeing what’s going on — it’s right there, teaching us. We can choose to be with what’s happening and not dissociate. Awareness is found in both pleasure and pain, in our confusion and our wisdom, and is available in each moment of our weird, unfathomable, ordinary everyday lives.”

Back on the trail, we covered the rest of the distance to Biduedo, where we stopped for lunch. We had walked fourteen and a half kilometres from O’Cebreiro, almost twenty from La Faba. All that remained were just over six and a half kilometres until Triacastela, all of it downhill, to reach the valley over five hundred metres lower. Lunch was soup and sandwiches, bocadillas y caldo gallego.

Strangely, I found I wasn’t tired in the least. I felt stronger and more vital than I had felt for a long time, perhaps even in years. Fred had noticed my animation as I took part in the chatter at the table. Typically, I was a listener, only joining in when topics grew more serious. Refreshed and energized, we left the café in sunshine and walked on to Triacastela.

In Triacastela, we headed to the Complexio Xacabo which Miryam had booked based on Gabe’s research. The hostel provided us with the option of separate rooms for very reasonable prices. Fred volunteered to wash everyone’s clothes and dry them in a dryer, which was available for our use.

The hotel-hostel had its own bar and restaurant, as well as free Wi-Fi, making it feel like an all-inclusive resort, although meals were not included. In the room, I was busy with uploading photos and responding to emails while Frieda went out with Miryam for some girl-talk time.

I decided to check the group photos that had been taken, as well as the whole group photo another pilgrim had taken for me earlier in the day at O’Cebreiro. I wanted to see if the glow I had noticed surrounding my friends had been captured by the camera. I also wanted to post the large group photo on Facebook.

When I checked the photos, the glow was indeed there to be seen, but not on everyone, though all of them being held in the same light. I couldn’t understand it. Satisfied with the group photo despite the uneven light, I posted it on Facebook.

Confused, I had to assume that I had somehow chosen incorrect settings on the camera that resulted in halos in the photos taken in the café. I resolved to take new group photos in an outdoor setting to get a better image for my personal archives.

Curious, I decided to take an indoor photo of the hotel room and another one of myself to see if I could find out what the matter was with the indoor settings. When the photos were taken, I played them back and found that both had turned out as expected — normal photos.

I decided I would get Frieda to sit still long enough for a few photos when she returned. With the issue set aside for the moment, I turned to do some reading. Uncharacteristically, I lay in the bed clothing free.

“Frieda, can I take a few photos of you? Somehow, my photos at the café of the group didn’t turn out very well. Here, let me show you what I mean.”

Showing her the images, I continued, “I want to make sure that there won’t be a repeat of today’s pictures,” was the greeting Frieda received as she came into our private room.

“Sure,” she replied. “But wait a second until I get comfortable. I need to use the washroom first.”

She emerged from the bathroom wearing only her smile, something that I had thought she would do, as she seemed to be allergic to clothing when conditions warranted.

“What seems to be the problem?”

I again showed her the photos that had halo effects over the heads of Mark, Miryam, Sid, Asha and Gabe. There were no halos over Fred, or Frieda, or myself.

“You’re right,” she admitted. “That is weird.” Stepping back and leaning against the door to our room, she purred, “How about this pose?”

I took photo after photo of Frieda from all sorts of angles based on light. The poses themselves were lost on me as I continually checked the settings and played back the images. Frieda was enjoying being the centre of my photographer focus.

She then suggested that I set the camera on the cabinet so that we could both be in the photos. So, putting the setting on self-timer at ten seconds, quite a few more images were taken. Sometimes it took a long time between photos as I got lost in her presence. Finally, I squeaked “Enough,” as I lay back exhausted.

“Let’s take a shower and get ready for eating dinner with the others,” directed Frieda. “We can look at the photos later and add more to that collection if inspiration strikes us,” Then, she added with a wicked grin, “You wash me, and I’ll wash you.”

We returned to the room late and tired. Since there was to be an early start, I forgot about checking the photos. Even my journal was ignored. We fell asleep only moments after slipping into the bed, folded into each other.

Find all chapters here

I want to thank my readers for following along with this story of my Camino. There are many chapters left to present here. Special thanks go to:

Benighted, Block Wife, Robert, and Marie A. Rebelle for always being here for me and this story.