Light at the end of the tunnel

After spending all of yesterday on a bus and train, the last thing I wanted to do today was use four wheels to get myself around. I decided to walk everywhere I went.

“No good on foot,” the woman at the tourist office said. “Not made for people.”

But it was only a few kilometers. I wanted to get to Engordany and then perhaps L’Adosa to check out the riding stables. I’d try it.

Off I went, happy as Larry, stepping out. I passed by a park—an elderly gentleman was getting his own exercise—and continued out of town. Just after I reached the “Welcome” sign for Encamp, the path ended. Rather than being side-swiped by cars and trucks, I headed back to the nearest bus stop, begrudgingly coughed up 1,25 € and caught the next bus.

I got off just before Engordany and continued with my walk, passed the Caldea shopping center and spa, and then out of town again, this time north towards Ordino.

A sign said it was 3km to La Massana. I could do that. One kilometer more and the sidewalk ended. I climbed over the side barrier and onto a narrow path running alongside the Riu d’Arinsal. After awhile the pathway became rocks and rubble, and then a small stream with steep rocks and rubble. I packed my camera into my backpack and continued to climb upstream, getting my feet wet.

Then a dead end. Never mind, there was a small bridge crossing the water and another pathway on the other side that ran just underneath the freeway. When that ended, a step ladder led up to the freeway, so I climbed it.

A narrow walkway continued along the road towards a tunnel. Here the path ended. But another ladder led down again, and a bridge crossed back over the river to another footpath. Hoorah! I could do this. I would not get a bus.

Another few hundred meters more and another dead-end. This time there was no footpath, rocks, rubble, or otherwise. It was time to give up and throw the towel in. But I didn’t want to go back the way I’d come. I climbed over a fence where there were some steps going underneath a bridge and leading to a tunnel. A cold, concrete tunnel that headed downwards.

Some workmen were carrying out work alongside the freeway.

“Passier?” I shouted, making walking motions with my fingers and pointing towards the tunnel.

“Si,” they said.

I don’t like tunnels. I had a few choices: climb over more rocks and risk falling; walk along the side of the road and risk getting whacked by traffic; go back the way I’d come and get scratched some more by brambles and soaked by the stream; or take the empty, but lit, tunnel that I could apparently walk through.

Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”

I could do this, right?

I’d be buggered if I was going to walk it, though. I secured my backpack and started off at a jog, with the tunnel heading down, and down, and down. How long was this thing? I looked back and could no longer see the entrance. The lights began to flicker. Oh shit! Hopefully, the workmen were playing tricks. I was too far in to go back.

I kept on going, all the time saying, “slow and steady is the pace, slow and steady wins the race,” just like the tortoise racing against the hare. I could do this. I would do this.

After over 1000 meters of running, I finally turned a corner and saw daylight in the distance. I let out a big “whoop!” before stopping to take a photograph. I then walked casually walked out of the other side as though strolling through a tunnel is something I do every day. The workmen looked at me as though I had two heads.

I did eventually reach Club Hipic to enquire about riding but I took the bus. At that point I wasn’t too concerned about walking any further.

 Print This Post

If you found "Light at the end of the tunnel" useful or interesting, please share it with others by bookmarking it at the following sites: