Evergreen Editing

September 11, 2017

Above Villamayor de Monjardin, on the peak of a conical hill, there is a ruined castle. I climbed it to eat dinner and watch the sun go down.

I didn’t realize how famished I was from eating only baguettes and espresso all day until I got to the top, and I sat on the castle wall to scarf down my bag of pasta without cutlery. I was so hungry, I almost wanted to eat the olive pits as well.

And then, I looked over to my left. In that direction were Pamplona and Estella. Pamplona with the running of the bulls, Estella with the fountain of wine and the ironworker from whom I bought a heavy concha charm. I looked at the horizon: I had walked on my feet from beyond that horizon.

I looked to my right, where the sun was descending over more jagged hills, over ridges and valleys. I looked to the horizon: I would walk beyond that horizon.

It was empowering and humbling and happy. I saw that since I was walking so far, I didn’t need to bother with things like impressive mileage or perfect Spanish or seeing everything along the way. Just doing it mattered. I smiled the whole walk down the mountain, which, that evening, was smack in the middle of both horizons.