I have met with my first pilgrims. I spied two unlikely looking figures perched atop of two much too small beaten up bicycles. As I drew closer I saw they were carrying their belongings on their backs in misshapen old rucksacks. A little closer and I saw the two or three spare tyres strapped to the front alongside a glass bottle or two of water. I kid you not they even had children's fluorescent sparkly cycle streamers to warn the oncoming traffic.
Now what I write should bring a smile as I'm not mocking merely bemused.
As I draw alongside to say hello I am greated by the father. His son (mid 20s) appears a little too taciturn but then he was carrying the bigger load! The simplicity of our conversation as to where from and where to brought a glow to my heart. They were indeed on their way to Compostella. They were just doing it bit by bit and slowly slowly. 30km a day. Bon Courage I say... As we parted I smiled at the joy of having dispelled all images of hessian sack staff bearing pilgrims. Fantastique!
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