Via di Francesco, Day 8: Pieve Santo Stefano - Sansepolcro

Tuesday, May 30
25 km
447 m

Today we were much refreshed and set out happily on the trail with our camino family of four. Nearly all of today's 447 meters of elevation gain came in the first third of the day, as we climbed the east slope of Monte Murlo. Though the gain was considerable, it wasn't steep. We climbed slowly but steadily past golden fields and green, oak trees and juniper, into a tall stand of fragrant evergreens.

Ahead on the trail, we spotted a hare. We halted. Sienna and ombre, he hopped straight towards us on the wide dirt track, stopped at a rise ten yards ahead, and studied us at length before hopping off into the forest. We grinned at one another, feeling blessed.

We soon reached the top of the mountain and enjoyed spectacular views of the surrounding valley. Then down the hill we went, crossed the bridge on the narrow arm of Lago di Montedoglio, and started up the gentle slope of a paved road.

What happened next can only be described as, for me, a lesson in humility. We came upon a tour group lunching in the shade next to their bus. I was...displeased. I have a generally low opinion of big tour groups, believing they have little respect for or understanding of the places they are whisked through in their smoggy, air conditioned busses. To top it off, they clog the lines at interesting sites and fill all the beds at what might otherwise be pilgrim's accommodations.

They waved hello. We waved back. They greeted us in German, then English. We greeted them. They invited us over for espresso, made fresh on their fancy tour bus. My camino family eagerly accepted; I was trapped. So I drank their (admittedly delicious) espresso, and I learned: they are pilgrims too. They have a guide. They have a bus to provide support and carry their luggage. And yes, they even have fresh espresso. But they also labor up each hill, sweat in the Tuscan sun, and will work hard to reach the birthplace of Saint Francis in Assisi. And so I was reminded: each person makes their own camino.

So quickly I had forgotten, and so quickly I was reminded, of the priest's sermon of last night: each person's life is their own pilgrimage. Each suffers, walks, learns, lives...and grows. Each person's journey is different, but no less a pilgrimage. First a blessing, then a lesson: today's walk was rich in meaning.

We descended into the Tiber valley, we enjoyed a simple picnic lunch in the shade, and I received the final gift of the day: joy. Though we were roasting in the sun, I felt happy. I enticed my partner into singing with me. We sang the Way of St James pilgrims' song. We sang old bluegrass songs. We sang children's songs. We sweated in the sun, gasping for breath as we strode down the road, singing at the top of our lungs, and I was filled with absolute joy.

Arriving in Sansepolcro in the heat of the afternoon, sunburnt and tired, I was overcome with gratitude for the day. I knew love and joy and understanding, all in one day, on one beautiful walk. This is why we camino.