I can't believe there are only 2 days left! It hasn't hit me yet, it really hasn't sunk in. I'm overwhelmed by a dichotomy of senses, conflicting feelings occurring at once. On the one hand I feel as though time has stood still, but on the other hand, I feel as though this month has flown by. In similar fashion, I am incredibly excited to reach Santiago but I am also tremendously sad to conclude this unrepeatable and extraordinary journey.

We started off today at the exact same spot where we left off yesterday: the point at which the Camino detours from the road and enters the mountain. Thank God we advanced 3 kilometers yesterday because today's stage covered over 30 kilometers in all. There was not a cloud in the sky and the sun was relentless; it burned down on us the entire time.

We spent the morning walking through forest and corn stalks, under orchards, over creeks, and between crops. At times we walked in silence, meditating in our own worlds, while at other moments we shared stories and debated ideas from different perspectives. Between my mom, Maria Luz, and I, we cover 3 continents (living in US, Africa, and Europe respectively) and two generations, a perfect recipe for an interesting conversation.

It must have been during one of those conversations that I lost my hat, my Nike baseball cap that I've worn every single day since I started the Camino. I had taken it off in the woods (given the vast amount of shade) and tied it to my backpack. At some point it must have fallen and since I didn't want to lose it, my mom and I decided to backtrack our steps and look for it. It wasn't the cleverest idea given that we never found the hat but lost a lot of time and energy.

At around 3 pm we began to get hungry and promised each other to stop wherever we could for lunch. Around a bend, we spotted a small table perfectly suited for our picnic. We began to make ourselves at home when all of a sudden, a young girl appeared from a nearby house and asked us if she could get us anything. The minute she heard us speak she asked us if we were from Argentina. She responded that she was too.

Cecilia told us that she and her friends had built the table with their own hands and that we could use it to have lunch. We thought twice about our intrusion and decided to go elsewhere. But before we left she invited us to see where she lived.

In the middle of no where, surrounded by green pastures, cows, and rolling hills, was a tiny stone house that looked abandoned and dilapidated. It was bought a couple of years back by a Spanish girl named Mapi who has left it exactly as it was. A free spirit, Mapi lives there all year round and invites in anyone who seeks refuge. This is where Cecilia calls home. She told us she left Argentina 4 years ago to come travel through Spain and never went back.

Cecilia introduced us to Mapi and her other "housemates": Samantha (also Argentine) and two young guys (one Spanish and the other Italian). All five of them currently live at the house, but have no sense of timing and no direction. A day can turn into a month, can turn into a year, which is what happened to Cecilia. True hippies at heart, they live each day as it comes, in the moment, never once worrying about the future or thinking about what it may bring. Because they don't have jobs they keep themselves busy by doing "cositas" (little things) around the house, for example building and painting the table we saw earlier.

After leaving Cecilia, Mapi, and friends I couldn't stop thinking about the movie "The Beach." A hidden paradise that welcomes whoever is lucky enough to find it, the paradise becomes the nucleus of their lives and their purpose for living. The hour we spent there taught me two lessons: to live and let live, and to not be judgmental. Over the course of the month, the Camino has shown me that life takes on different meanings for different people.

Famished, we stopped at the top of a mountain in the middle of the road to eat. We didn't care that we had to get up every so often to let the occasional car go by. We couldn't have asked for a better setting, by the foot of the gigantic wind mills that generate power for Spain. An unlimited source of energy equally available to all people, wind is everywhere and anywhere. It felt amazing to be sitting next to the fuel of the future, mills that harness the power of the wind.

We finally arrived in the town of Melide around 6 pm. Melide is where the "Camino Primitivo" (the path we're on) meets with the "Camino Frances" (the French Way). We expect to see hundreds and hundreds of peregrinos tomorrow as the Camino Frances is the more popular route.

We woke up in Lugo today to yet another article about Luis in "La Voz de Galicia." It's impressive how much local press he has received, he's a superstar around here. Everywhere we go people want to take a picture with him and everyone who meets him is curious and eager to learn his story.

Lugo is famous for its "Muralla," the ancient Roman wall that encircles the city. Over 2 kilometers long and 12 meters high, it is a World Heritage site. My mom, Maria Luz, and I initiated our walk in the main square of the city, "Plaza Mayor," and followed the yellow arrows to the "Catedral de Lugo" (Lugo's Cathedral). On one of the street corners was a man in an electrical wheelchair waiting for someone. I used the opportune moment to walk over to him and introduce myself.

His name is Aquilino and he is a tetrapalegic, which means he is paralyzed from the chest down but has little use of his arms and hands, hence the electric wheelchair. I told him about Walkabout and he seemed very intrigued, especially because he has been working with the Lugo municipal government to make the city accessible. In 20 years he has come a long long way! What used to be a medieval city full of stairs and steps is now a proud flat city complete with elevators and ramps!

Aquilino introduced us to his girlfriend Macarena, and the two of them gave us a very brief tour within the Roman walls. He told us Lugo had won the "premio de la Reina Sofia" (Queen Sofia's prize) for the progress it had made over the years in making the city wheelchair accessible. After exchanging emails and contact details, we gave each other hugs and went our own way.

The Camino proved to be very pleasant today. For starters, we had the weather in our favor: cloudy, breezy, and cool. And secondly, the only steep climb we encountered was within the first 5 kilometers. My mom and I decided to walk the mountain backwards (as awkward and uncomfortable as that sounds) in order to use a different muscle in our body. Typically, we use our calves to ascend, but by walking backwards, we could use our thighs. It's really astonishing how much my calves have grown, you can visibly see the difference!

We walked side by side, my mom, Maria Luz and I, chatting and exchanging stories. At exactly 4 pm we found the perfect spot to have lunch, sat down on a rock, and set up our picnic. This morning we had gone to a supermarket in Lugo and stocked our backpacks with tasty ingredients. For the first time in 28 days, we made our own lunch out of the food we had bought. Salami, jamon iberico, salchichon, sardines, crackers, cheese, membrillo, and yogurt, we replenished our bodies with "fuel" (as my father would say) and continued walking.

At 5 pm we arrived in San Roman da Retorta which is by no means a town despite my book saying so. It's nothing more than a "taverna," stone house, and an "albergue." Since Luis, my dad, and Esteban had not yet arrived, we decided to kill time by walking further into tomorrow's journey. We walked 3 kilometers until the point that the Camino detoured off the asphalt road and into the mountain. At that point, we turned right back around and walked another 3 kilometers to San Roman.

Soon after, one of Luis' support cars came to pick us up to take us to where Luis, my dad, and Esteban were cycling. We stopped the car, go out of it, and watched Luis peddle towards us. You could see him in his zone, entirely focused, looking down at his arms and at the ground. The road was deserted, not a car or person in sight. It was silent too, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. All eyes and energy were on Luis as he pushed and pushed forward, propelling the weight of his body and the weight of his bicycle up the climb with only his arms. You could tell he was tired but he wasn't giving up, not for a moment, not even for a second.

Luis cycled past us and we froze, we didn't know what to do. Do we yell, scream, and cry out "animo" to motivate him, or do we remain silent so as to not distract him or remove him from his zone? We couldn't help ourselves. Watching Luis advance each step was the most inspiring, moving, and motivating scene I have ever seen in all my life. I say that honestly, from the bottom of my heart, not because he is my brother but because it's the truth. My mom, Maria Luz, and I were so awestruck that we couldn't help but scream "go Luis, you can do it" and "you're the best!"

He truly is the best and I am so grateful to have been there at that moment to see it live, to see Luis in action first-hand. I will never forget that moment for as long as I live.

We woke up this morning to a feature story on Luis and The Walkabout Foundation in "La Voz de Galicia," the province of Galicia's most popular newspaper. The article, titled "Un Largo Empujon hasta Santiago" (A Long Push to Santiago), focused on Luis' tremendous feat and how well he has been holding up over the last 27 days. It also mentioned that being in a wheelchair has prevented him from doing the Camino the traditional way, i.e. staying in "albergues" (hostels). We were all very pleased with the article and I was particularly happy that the issue of accessibility was brought to the reader's attention.

Our Camino started off with a sharp ascent and then leveled off into a forest at the top of the mountain. For about two hours, we walked through tall overbearing pine trees, where there was not a single sign of civilization: no peregrinos, no traffic, no roads, no garbage, and no noise. The only sound you could hear was the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves and the chirping of birds every so often.

Although the scenery was beautiful, after two hours of the same uneventful path, it became somewhat boring and monotonous. So my mom, Maria Luz, and I decided to play a game, a movie game, to make the time go by faster. Before we knew it we were at the town of Vilabade, home to one of the most beautiful churches I have ever seen, the "Gran Iglesia Gotica de Santa Maria de Vilabade." The church was closed but we befriended 3 local kids who said they could run to the priest's house and tell him we wanted to see the church's interior. They came running back with keys and opened the front door for us.

It's always nice to take a moment out of our day to give thanks for all that we are blessed with. I do believe that this can be done anywhere and at any time, but the "Iglesia de Santa Maria" welcomed the perfect moment of peace and reflection. We didn't stay long, but long enough for my mom and Maria Luz to squeeze in a game of ping pong. If you can believe it, right beside the church (practically inside of it) was a ping pong table donated by one of the local neighbors.

At around 1 pm we set off once again, following the Camino in the direction of Lugo. Never once did our book (or anyone else for that matter) tell us that there were no provisions for 18 kilometers. That implied that for 18 kilometers there was not a single bar, "taverna," store, supermarket, you name it! And we were definitely not prepared.

Almost four hours later, we were still stuck in the middle of no where, between desolate farmland and forest. The few houses we passed by looked to be empty and locked down. There was not a person in sight. To make matters worse, we hadn't packed enough food and we had run out of water! Walking in the scorching heat under the blazing sun, I thought I was going to pass out.

The last segment of today's walk proved to be truly unbearable for us. My mom and I complained of exhaustion and I couldn't help but yell "oh my God" over and over again. My mom made Maria Luz and I laugh when she said "I have to ask for permission from one leg to move the other." For the first time since we started this journey, my legs felt like bricks and I had difficulty putting one foot in front of the other.

We arrived in Lugo at the exact same time as Luis, my dad, and Esteban. You could tell by Luis' face that he too was tired. I think at this point what kills us is the accumulation of fatigue, the 27 constant days of working your body without a single day of rest. The more I think about it, the more I can't believe it. Luis, my mom, and I have gone 27 days without stopping once.

Luis told me that today was more an exercise of endurance than of strength. He said it was a fairly easy ride compared to the last couple of days and that he thoroughly enjoyed it. Before going up to his hotel room, he waited in the lobby with me for a journalist to arrive. Sergio, the individual who wrote today's article, wanted to come meet Luis and I in person and write a follow-up story on Luis. We're happy and proud to say that Luis will be featured in "La Voz de Galicia" again over the next two days.

Today was the longest day of the trip, even longer than Day 1. I guess we only have ourselves to blame seeing as we got totally lost, and not just once but twice. In 26 days, it has never once happened to us before. Oh well, there's a first for everything!

Maria Luz, my mom, and I walked out of our hotel this morning and turned left. We couldn't find the yellow arrows so we asked a person on the street who told us we had to go by the town church. We were happy to be reunited with the Camino at the "Iglesia Parroquial de Santa Maria" and followed the yellow arrows down a series of streets and alleys. Before we knew it, the three of us were standing back at the exact same spot we had started from. We made the mistake of turning left this morning instead of making a right out of the hotel.

Thank God I woke up this morning with energy. For some reason, I felt awake and alive, ready to tackle the day's challenge. It's astonishing how much stronger my body has gotten and how much more it can withstand. I didn't even realize that we had ascended a mountain for the first 5 kilometers of today's journey.

At the top of that mountain were two small wooden tables, encircled by a railing, and one of the most striking views I have seen in northern Spain. 180 degrees of nothing but rolling hills, this view was unique because you could see beyond it. The hills evoked a domino-like effect, all stacked neatly behind one another. My mom stood on the railing, leaned against it, and threw her arms up into the air. "Hello Spain, hello world" she called out!

Indeed, my mom was on top of the world today. I swear, I don't know how she does it. With very little sleep (she stays up late washing Luis' clothes and wakes up early to dry them), she walks 30 kilomters a day as fast, if not faster, than I do. Her stamina and endurance is unparalleled. She is like the energizer bunny that keeps going and going. To exert herself this way, and for this long, at her age is truly motivating and inspirational.

The Camino took us down a valley and directly onto the highway. By 2 pm we were starving. Sick of our sandwiches (we've been eating the same ham and cheese croissant for 3 days now), we decided to treat ourselves for the third time in 26 days. We ordered a tuna, tomato, onion, and asparagus salad, and ate like kings!

On a full stomach, we got thrown right back into the thick of it and the Camino forced us up a steep ascent. Not only was the climb steep, but it was also incredibly narrow. Not to mention it was a dirt path full of tiny rocks and pebbles! Just when I thought I wasn't going to make it, two peregrino cyclists came riding by and said "animo, animo." Two minutes later I caught up to them and saw them carrying their bikes over their shoulders. The ascent was just too steep to conquer it with wheels.

We became friends with the two cyclists, Pedro and Manuel, who kindly invited us to join their picnic at the top of the mountain. Neither of them had eaten and they were both starving. The Camino is all about sharing, giving, receiving, and reciprocating, so what little they had, they passed around.

We ate our snack of membrillo (a fruit-type jelly) and salchichon iberico (sausage), said our good-byes, and continued forward. We had about another 12 kilometers to walk and it was past 4 pm. On a good day, we typically walk 5 kilometers an hour which meant that we still had over two hours to go. We picked up the pace and arrived at a town called Fontaneira.

At that moment my phone rang and it was a journalist calling me from a local newspaper. He had heard about Luis, about my family, and about Walkabout and he wanted to write a piece for tomorrow's edition. My mom, Maria Luz, and I were distracted and not paying attention to the yellow arrows. Before we knew it, we were completely lost and in the middle of no where.

Unknowingly, we had walked in the opposite direction down a mountain. When we arrived at a farmhouse and realized we had taken a wrong turn somewhere, we had no other choice but to backtrack our steps. By backtrack I mean we had to ascend all that we had descended.

We arrived back at Fontaneira absolutely shattered and found the yellow arrows again. We had walked over 5 kilometers in vain, lost over an hour, and we still had another 4 kilometers to go! Our legs were numb and our feet ached, but we decided to run to make it to our destination in time to meet with the reporter that had called me earlier.

Seeing my mom run after walking 25 kilometers left me in awe. We finally arrived in Cadavo Baleira, where we met up with Luis, my dad, Esteban, Pedro, and his son Juan, who had all cycled together. We took a group picture for "La Voz de Galicia" and enjoyed a much deserved cold drink.

We started our day at the Church of San Salvador in Grandas de Salime, where we met up with all our peregrino friends. We decided to walk together as a group, in tandem, with Dani leading the way. I spent the morning getting to know Raquel and Miguel, two peregrinos from the outskirts of Barcelona, who I had actually met a couple of days back but did not have the opportunity to talk to. Miguel told me that he had walked the Camino a few times before and that he does so as a means of escaping from his job. He works as an accountant for a mental hospital.

The Camino immediately took us on the highway, which proved to be somewhat of a disaster. There were construction workers all around re-paving the roads, and we were clearly out of place. However, there was no other way to go and we had no other choice but to trek amongst the trucks and along the newly paved asphalt. Not only was the smell nauseating, but the heat radiating from the ground was unbearable.

When I woke up this morning and looked out the window, it seemed as though it was going to rain. I dressed accordingly with leggings, a fleece, a windbreaker, and poncho. To my chagrin, the clouds disappeared and the sun came out, compounding the heat from the asphalt. Sweating, panting, and gasping for air, we barely made it alive to a small town called Castro.

At Castro, we bid farewell to our friends who wanted to stay behind for a beer (Spaniards drink beer at all times of the day, including breakfast!), and my mom, Maria Luz and I continued on our way. Walking through the forest, I made a special note to take advantage of the foliage, knowing that in less than a week's time I will be far removed from such wilderness. I let it all absorb me, the fern, pine, oak trees, the eucalyptus groves, and the vivid green grass. I felt as though my surroundings were alive and breathing, as if nature were split into different colored auras pulsating at me.

Exactly half way through the day, we stopped at the only restaurant 10 kilometers in sight. Although on the highway, it was a perfect refuge. We were happy to give our legs a rest after walking for 4 hours straight. We were sitting outside when all of a sudden, Esteban came cycling by! He said he was riding fast to try to catch up with my father who was a couple of meters ahead. What a coincidence to have bumped into him!

Maria Luz, my mom, and I quickly nourished our bodies with our ham and cheese sandwiches and ordered a "cafe con leche." Feeling replenished, we were ready for our one last push.

We arrived in the town of A Fonsagrada before 6 pm and took advantage of our "early" arrival to rest, relax, and wash our clothes. I still can't believe that we have been walking all day, every day, for 25 days in a row. Because the Camino is so strenuous, difficult, and long, you are not left with much time or desire to do anything else in the day. At the hotel, we waited anxiously for Luis, my dad, and Esteban to arrive and started to panic when they still were not back after 9 pm.

At 9:30 pm they walked in through the hotel door. You could instantly tell Luis was exhausted. When we asked him about his ride, he said that hands down, today was the hardest stage of the trip. Unlike the ride from Pola de Allanda to La Mesa, which consisted of long but leveled climbs, today was all about shorter but steeper climbs. Luis, my father, and Esteban encountered some ascents with inclines of nearly 10 percent. Not to mention that the ride lasted over 4 hours, an eternity for Luis!

Yesterday, my father and Esteban were cycling through Tineo and Pola de Allande when they stopped in front of a house in a small town called San Facundo so that my father could adjust his bicycle's seat. On the second floor balcony of the house sat two ladies who were mother and daughter, 86 and 61 years old respectively. They called down to my father and Esteban and asked if they could get the cyclists something to drink.

My father gladly accepted a glass of cold water but did not want to disturb the ladies and told them not to worry about coming down. Placeres (the daughter) immediately responded by saying that exercise is good for the body and soul and proceeded to come down to the street with cold drinks. When my father told her that this was the third time he and Esteban rode this "etapa" (stage) between Tineo and Pola, Placeres mentioned that yesterday she saw something that left her incredibly emotional.

She explained that she saw a young man in front of her house who briefly stopped to throw water on himself in an effort to cool down. Placeres said that the young individual was on a tricycle, propelled only by the strength of his arms. She and her mother, Adela, were so fascinated by the cyclist that they brought out their binoculars and stared at him as he rode off. Placeres said that never once, not in all the years of watching peregrinos go by, had she or her mother witnessed the courage demonstrated by that young man as he carried his weight (and his bicycle's weight) with only two arms. Placeres concluded by saying she had stayed up thinking about the boy all night.

At that moment, my father told her that the boy was his son and explained to her that Luis was riding the Camino from Irun to Santiago, over 800 kilometers, with his sister and mother. When my father gave Placeres a copy of the "Nueva Espana," the local newspaper that Luis and the family were featured in, she broke down. In tears, she explained that she could relate to the pain a parent feels when something happens to your child because a few years ago she lost her 28 year old son to Leukemia. In a span of 3 years, she lost her son, husband, and father.

This morning, my mom, Maria Luz and I had a car drive us to San Facundo before we set off on our walk. Not only did we want to meet Placeres and Adela, but we also knew that a visit to their house would brighten their day. When we arrived and introduced ourselves, Placeres started to cry and invited us into her house for morning coffee.

The few moments we spent with Placeres and Adela allowed us to put things into perspective again and reminded us why it is we are here and exerting ourselves so much. The love these two ladies exude towards their family (their children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren whose photographs were on display in every last corner of the house) is a parallel love I have for my brother and my parents have for their son. Placeres and Adela gave us a fountain of energy to proceed.

We started off on a brutal climb, walking at a very fast pace because we had left so late. The most beautiful view I have seen thus far awaited us at the top of the ascent: 360 degrees of mountain peaks with the Rio Navia below. What goes up, must come down. The Camino began to descend and descend, taking us through a winding forest.

The Camino today was completely desolate. Not a person, noise, car, or airplane in sight, we felt like we had reached the end of the world. An ideal setting for reflection and introspection, we arrived at the mouth of the Rio Navia that reminded me of a scene out of the movie "Last of the Mohicans."

In order to advance, we had to cross the river dam, which housed a power plant fueled by water. The vertigo sensation of looking down at the river below proved to be unbearable, and was only augmented as the Camino ascended for the last 5 kilometers. I practically walked the rest of the day with my eyes closed.

We reached Grandas de Salime at 5 pm and waited for Luis, my dad and Esteban to arrive. Two hours later, it started to rain and pour, when we heard a honk from Luis' support car. The whole town turned around to look at him, and we all applauded his valiant efforts. Soaking wet, the only thing Luis wanted was a hot chocolate. 26 kilometers later, the whole family was together again.

The Camino is about receiving and giving. It's about reciprocating the love, encouragement, support, beauty, accomplishment, bonds, and friendships that the journey gives you. Our visit to Placeres and Adela's house today taught us just that.

We begun our trek where we left off yesterday, in front of the "Ayuntamiento" in Pola de Allande with two less Walkabout followers, Diego and Mati, who flew back to the US this morning. We're sad to see them go but we are grateful for the moments we spent together, bonding on the Camino. The experiences we shared undoubtedly brought us closer as siblings.

It goes without saying that my mom, Maria Luz, and I had another day of sizzling sun and scorching heat. Not to mention that the Camino completely deceived us. At first, it took us through a valley, on flat terrain, along a brook, and under trees. We were made to believe we were in for an easy ride, so we took our time and leisurely walked. Our surroundings reminded me of the story I read as a child, "A Little House on a Prairie," with nothing more than the sound of a babbling brook and the silence of rolling hills.

All of a sudden, we turned the corner, and the yellow arrows pointed in the direction of a steep ascent. With no end in sight, we began to pace ourselves, climbing the mountain one small step at a time. It felt like an eternity, like never-ending torture. Our legs ached, our muscles hurt, we were short of breath. After ascending for over an hour, we reached a clearing near the top of the mountain where we could see the "carretera" on the opposite side of the valley. As we sat down for lunch on the grass, I couldn't help but look at Luis' trail, his Camino, and ponder how on earth someone can climb up such a steep mountain with only their arms.

We continued up the last stretch of the mountain and reached an abandoned fountain where we came across our peregrino friend Giusep and his dog Luna. Giusep was trying to hydrate Luna with rain water that had accumulated in the fountain's basin. He had gotten stuck in the mountain over night with nothing to drink and no civilization in sight for over 18 kilometers. We gave him some of our bottled water and walked with him and his dog the rest of the day.

Upon reaching the town of Lago, my mom, Maria Luz, Giusep, Luna, and I sat down in front of a small little chapel for a much needed break. We talked about life, family, friends, jobs, hobbies etc., as Giusep told us he was in the middle of a financial and marriage crisis and hoped the Camino would "aclarar" (clarify) his situation. We continued the conversation as we walked to the next town, Berducedo. There, we bid farewell to our friend who was staying at the "albergue," and followed the yellow arrows for another 5 kilometers to La Mesa.

It's hard to classify La Mesa as a town because it's really nothing more than 3 houses and another "albergue." Nestled deep in the valley, it is surrounded on either side by wind farms perched at the top of the opposite mountains. It's one of the most beautiful places I have ever visited, not only because of the geography but also because of the serenity of the place. It exudes a sense of quietness and peacefulness. It felt like entering a bubble where you are shielded from the rest of the world.

We chatted with the cyclist peregrinos we met yesterday while waiting for Luis to arrive, but at 9 pm we still had no word from him or my father. The sun was setting and we were cold from sitting outside so my mom, Maria Luz and I decided to walk back to Berducedo. A crazy idea but at least this way we could warm up!

At 10 pm, in the dark, rain, and fog, Luis came peddling into Berducedo with my father and Esteban behind him! We ran into the street to applaud him and quickly gave him a dry change of clothes. They had cycled the last 5 kilometers in the rain and were soaking wet! We ordered Luis a hot chocolate at a local bar, where he began to talk about his day's adventure.

He told us that he thought that today's climb was harder than riding the New York Marathon. After all, the ascent lasted more than 12 kilometers! Luis works hard to find his "pace" throughout his ride, and it's not until he enters that zone that he finds himself perfectly at ease. He explained it took him a while to find it today and it only happened after he poured an entire bottle of freezing brook water over his head.

I asked Luis what he thinks about when he rides. He immediately answered "girls" and said that girls are a source of motivation for most guys. Although I'm sure many guys wouldn't admit it, I appreciate Luis' honesty and don't doubt that he's right. He did mention as well that today's ride, at the top of the mountains, made him feel like he was in an airplane above the clouds. That sensation was pure religion and spirituality as he put it.

Luis makes you believe. He makes you believe in something, in a force, in a power, and in yourself. If he can work his way up that "carretera," that Camino I saw today, with the strength of his arms only, then you and I can (and should) believe that anything in life is indeed possible. Luis is a living testament that you can accomplish anything you want, anything you put your mind to.

A small plaque on the Camino read "el encanto y la magia nos siguen transformando." I stared at it and thought about its meaning, over and over again. Although it didn't specify exactly what it was referring to, it was obvious that "the enchantment and the magic [that] continues to transform us" is in reference to the Camino.

We began our day in the center of Tineo with Walkabout's newest follower, our cousin Maria Luz who flew in all the way from Sudan. Diego, Matias, my mom, Maria Luz, and I begun our ascent out of the city and into the heart of the mountain. A small cottage made of stone immediately greeted us with several hand painted signs all around. In front of the door it said "aqui vive el ultimo de Filipinas" (the last person from the Philippines lives here). Somewhat comical, the little cottage served a purpose. It was meant to stop the peregrino on his way and force him to catch his breath.

We continued through one of the most beautiful settings I have ever seen. The Camino took us through a path that looked like an orchard, covered by a natural ceiling of intertwined branches and leaves. We appreciated the shield from the sun as we faced yet another day of unbearable heat.

We arrived at an intersection that signaled two opposite directions. To the left marked "Camino" and to the right "Monasterio." At that very moment, we coincidentally came across Dani, fellow peregrino, who suggested we follow him to meet our other peregrino friends at the monastery. We agreed to go with him, despite it being an uphill detour.

Sitting on the front lawn of the "Monasterio de Obona" were over 10 peregrinos taking a break. Most of them we already knew but there was a group of 4 cyclists that we hadn't met before. Hugo, the youngest of the bunch, was cycling the Camino with his father and told us that they were heading to Lugo, a few cities before Santiago. Unfortunately, he explained, there are not enough vacation days in the year!

While all the peregrinos rested, one little girl exhausted her energy by running around in circles. Luna, a 4 year old german shepherd, belongs to Giusep, a newcomer to the Camino. Giusep is from Barcelona and initiated his journey in Oviedo with his dog who he has brought along for company. He carries 5 kilos of Luna's food on him and over the course of 4 days, has managed to shrink the weight down to 2 kilos.

Not long after, we all resumed the Camino together, walking down the hill in small groups. In pairs of 2 or bunches of 4, we conversed, chatted about our respective journeys, and passed the time getting to know one another. Before we knew it we had reached the town Campiello, a perfect location to stop for lunch.

At a local bar, Diego, Matias, Maria Luz, my mom, and I congregated around a small table and devoured our sandwiches. We looked after Diego's blister (a mean one on the back of his heel) and then continued on our way. It was incredibly entertaining to have Diego and Mati walk with us. We spent the rest of the afternoon laughing and singing out loud. Even though Diego's legs hurt (Day 2 is always the worst), he made it to Pola de Allende like a true champion.

Upon reaching our destination, we collapsed on a bench and waited for Luis to arrive. When his support car drove by the main square an hour later, we all sprung to our feet and got our cameras ready in hand. As Luis approached us, we started clicking away, and all of us, mom, Diego, Mati, Maria Luz and I, ran into the street screaming and cheering him on.

Another day has passed and Luis has accomplished yet another tremendous feat. I wish I could be a fly on his shoulder and watch him propel his entire body weight up these treacherous mountains with only his arms. But what I admire most, more than anything else, is seeing Luis' determination, focus, and eternal stamina.

What a fun-filled day thanks to my younger brothers Diego and Matias! We had an early wake-up call, a family breakfast, and took off before 10 am.

The day started off cloudy, cold, and straight up a mountain. What a way to throw Diego into the thick of it, not to mention he's on antibiotics. We worked our way to the top, through the fog, only to find ourselves at the foot of another ascent. We climbed up a mound of sand, through a construction zone. Everywhere we looked we saw bulldozers and cranes, not your typical view during the Camino. But we got out of there quickly and arrived at a small town called La Espina.

What's peculiar about the Camino is that it forces you to always look down at the trail. Because there are so many rocks and the ground is so uneven, your eyes are glued to your feet. One wrong step, and you can twist or break your ankle. However, the irony is that if you fail to pay attention to the yellow arrows, you can get seriously lost. On trees, houses, and posts, the yellow arrows guide you and orient you in the right direction. Therefore, the Camino expects you to look up and down simultaneously.

In the town of La Espina, my mom and I took advantage of a local bar's washroom. Matias and Diego decided to go ahead without us. When we resumed the Camino on a dirt road, we heard someone whistling on the highway below us. To our surprise, it was Diego! He had somehow lost Matias, missed the yellow arrow, and gone the wrong way. While we waited for him to catch up to us my mom panicked about Matias. It had been a while since we last saw him and he wasn't answering his phone.

We walked and walked until we reached a clearing in the Camino. The most picture-perfect sight, there were two benches on either side of a fountain that read "agua potable" (drinking water). A small statue of Saint Santiago presided over the fountain, and Matias was lying on one of the benches with his feet kicked up and sound asleep.

We felt bad waking him up because he looked so incredibly at peace, but the sun was blazing sun and heat was rising and we had to keep going. We met up with Dani at that point, a peregrino from Madrid, who came to the fountain to fill his bottle of water. We started talking about our backgrounds and he told us that several years back he had a near fatal car accident that left him with 150 stitches on his face, a hole through his cheek, and no fingers on one hand. Ever since then, he walks the Camino every year and explained to my brothers that the Camino is not a sprint but a marathon. Hence, it is meant to be taken slowly.

We walked with Dani the remainder of the day. 26 kilometers and 7 hours later, we reached our destination in the town of Tineo. We sat down in front of the "Ayuntamiento" (town hall) and watched Luis arrive in heroic fashion.

Flanked on either side by my dad and Esteban, Luis thanked his "wing men" and said he owed a lot of today's success to them. He said that every few minutes they would pour water on him as they rode by and explained that they never failed to give him support when he needed it most: at the end of a 9 kilometer climb. Shouting "animo" and "vamos," my dad and Esteban helped to pushed Luis through to the finish line.

We ended the day with a group picture in Tineo's main square. Looking now at the snapshot, I can't help but think that a picture is indeed a thousand words. Our smiles say it all, a sense of happiness, satisfaction, pride, and accomplishment.

10 days left and less than 300 kilometers to go...

I have to be honest and say that today was not an easy day for me. I woke up tired, very tired. When I got up from bed and planted my two feet on the ground, I felt an ache quiver up my legs and run through the entire length of my body. I guess walking 30 kilometers for 20 days straight has finally taken a toll on me.

After a chaotic morning of packing, over sleeping, sibling arguments, and a visit to the doctor (poor Diego has an ear infection), my mom and I finally made it on our way. Our book said 18 kilometers, but when we reached our starting point in Grado, we came across a large sign that illustrated the day's itinerary and marked 23 kilometers to the town of Salas.

Before embarking on our journey, we stopped in a small "tabaqueria" and bought a copy of today's "Nueva Espana." Seeing as it is the province of Asturia's most popular newspaper, the news agent had sold out of additional copies. We turned the pages and were blown away to see an entire page, in color, dedicated to Walkabout. The article titled "A Compostela Sobre Tres Ruedas" (To Compostela on Three Wheels) talked about Luis, his stamina, his family's support, and the foundation's mission. There was a huge picture of our family at the top, and smaller pictures of Luis, my mother, and I at the bottom.

We started to walk and luckily, we had the weather in our favor. As a matter of fact, it was cool out, actually quite cold. However, we weren't prepared for the drop in temperature. After yesterday, we expected a similar situation of excruciating heat. But given that we bid farewell to the Cantabrian coast and have now entered the interior of Spain, the altitude here is much higher. We are now walking what's called the "Camino Primitivo" (otherwise known as the Original Way) which takes us through the mountains straight into Santiago.

We didn't even stop for lunch today. Instead, my mom and I ate our sandwiches as we walked. It was so late in the afternoon that we didn't see any peregrinos. They must have been all fast asleep in the "albergues" (hostels).

The last stretch of our walk took us up a steep incline on the highway. It's funny how one's thoughts and opinions change over the course of the Camino. At first, back in early August, I longed for asphalt, paved roads, and highways. Today, I couldn't love more the dirt paths through the mountains and nature trails.

At 7 pm we arrived at the entrance of the town of Salas and a sign there caught my attention. I took out my camcorder and began filming what it said, "todo por la patria" (everything for the country), when a police officer sprung out of no where and scolded me for filming the police station. He demanded a form of identification and when I told him we were peregrinos and we didn't have our passports with us (they were in Luis' support car), he insisted that we give him something to prove who we were or we were going to have to face severe consequences. I immediately remembered the "Nueva Espana" we had bought that was folded in my backpack and I whipped it out to show it to him. Let's just say he didn't utter a word after that, he excused himself, and walked away.

What awaited us moments later in la Plaza del Ayuntamiento was priceless. My mom and I arrived at the exact same time as Luis, my father, and Esteban who had come by bicycle. We stood in front of the main church, "La Iglesia de San Martin" that was built in the 15 century, and the whole town cheered us on. I couldn't understand why all the commotion, until one man came over and asked to have a photograph taken with Luis. All of Salas had read the article in the newspaper and knew exactly who we were!

Luis, my dad, and Esteban were famished and exhausted after riding up hill for kilometers and kilometers. What's amazing is the pace at which Luis rides and is able to keep up with my father and Esteban. I am honored to be Luis' sister. I couldn't be more proud. Seeing the way people admire him and cheer him on gives me goose bumps. There are no words to describe the positive impression that Luis has left on every town we have visited throughout the Camino de Santiago. It is evident that he is not only an inspiration to my family but also, to all the people he meets along the way.

This morning we found ourselves in the middle of the city of Oviedo, surrounded by parks, bell towers, churches, and a small bronze statue of Woody Allen. As he once said "Oviedo es una ciudad deliciosa, exotica, bella, limpia, agradable, tranquila y peatonalizada, es como si no perteneciera a este mundo, como si no existiera...Oviedo es como un cuento de hadas." I couldn't agree with Woody more, indeed Oviedo is like a fairytale.

The Camino took us through the city's main street, which led to the central train station and put us face-to-face with an enormous hanging clock. The time was 11 am, a very unusual and late start for my mom and I. But given that we had two teenagers (jet lagged) with us, it was to be expected!

We zigzagged through the city to find our way out to the mountain. Right before initiating our first climb, we met two other peregrinos getting ready to kick-off their journey. They were father and son, Antonio and Juan from Barcelona, who had just arrived by bus to Oviedo to begin the Camino de Santiago. Juan was 13 years old and had been begging his father all year to take him on the Camino. He told me that he wanted to meet people, make friends, and that he had heard that the physical pain one endures while walking has "recompensas" (rewards). I was in awe of his maturity and how eloquently he expressed himself given his young age. He amazed me further when he ascended the steep mountain with a huge grin on his face.

On the other side of the spectrum, my mom, Matias Reynal, Matias my brother, and I were panting, breathing heavily, and seriously struggling to climb. Luckily, we had each other to lean on and to call on for support. My mom and I would take turns staying behind to accompany our newcomers. Instances such as these prove to us and show us that are bodies have adapted, changed, and grown stronger after 19 days of walking.

We found the absolute perfect place to have lunch, actually better than anything we could have actively looked for. On a small hill perched in the middle of the valley, right next to a tiny little chapel dedicated to Our Lady of Fatima, we ate our sandwiches and let the wind blow in our faces. We appreciated the cool breeze after walking for 3 hours under the scorching sun. Another day of heat, humidity, and sunburns!

Around 5 pm, we reached an intersection where we coincidentally came across Luis' support car. We knew Luis was only a couple steps behind so we decided to pause there and wait for him. We eagerly anticipated his arrival and when he sped past us, we hollered and cheered him on, "animo Luis, animo!!"

The last part of our walk seemed like it was never-ending. But then again, the last kilometer or two ALWAYS seem endless. We walked between corn stalks and tomato crops with not a person in site until we reached a train station with a big sign that read "Grado." Finally, after 27 kilometers, the two Matias', my mother and I had reached our destination. I have to say that I was very impressed with both Matias' stamina and endurance. They kept up incredibly well even though the second day is notoriously the hardest.

We met up with Luis, my father, and Esteban in Grado's "Plaza del Ayuntamiento" (town square). We heard from Luis just how challenging today was, primarily because of the heat. Every few meters, Luis had to stop in the middle of the road to throw water on himself. And many times, my father and Esteban would ride by and empty their own bottles of water on him. The issue is that because Luis' bike is so low to the ground, more heat radiates towards him and the sizzling asphalt becomes unbearable.

But the heat wasn't the only hurdle Luis had to overcome. He had to ascend up the same treacherous mountains we climbed with only his arms. Never losing site of his goal and destination, he pushed and pushed his way through, withstanding the physical pain and agony, and arrived like a true champion at the finish line. Seeing Luis' smile in Grado made our long difficult day so incredibly worthwhile.

Only 325 kilometers left to go...

We began our day in Pola de Siero with our new Walkabout followers, Matias and Matias! My mom and I were ecstatic to have companions after so many days of walking alone. After some morning stretches in the "Plaza del Ayuntamiento," we took off on our relatively short 20 kilometer journey.

The Camino was kind enough to divert us away from the "Caretera Asturiana" and instead took us along a path beside the highway. The four of us walked together, skipping, singing, and laughing, while the sun scorched down on us. By mid-day the temperature had risen to 35 degrees celsius and we were dying! Rationing our bottles of water, we made sure not to get dehydrated. We took care of each other and kept an eye on our sunburns.

The Camino does not spare you of anything. It throws you into any given situation and expects you to easily handle yourself and your surroundings. Around a corner, we came across loud sounds, people yelling and crying. As we approached the noise we realized we were at the back entrance of a psychiatric hospital. We didn't want to intrude on the patients' space but the Camino brought us face-to-face with them. Once again, the Camino made us think about our lives, our family, our homes, and just how blessed we are.

We continued walking, over the train tracks, and came in touch with yet another harsh reality. In makeshift tents and trailers, there was a whole family of kids, mothers, sisters, brothers, and grandparents, running around in the dirt and garbage. They were a gypsy family and sought refuge out of odds and ends from our everyday lives: tires, bed sheets, torn wrapping paper, broken glass, etc. I stood there thinking how many unnecessary things we live with, how much excess we have, how many possessions we own that we could do without, and how we ought to give back.

With that thought in mind, we reached Oviedo just before 3 pm. We were thrilled to welcome another Walkabout follower, my brother Diego who flew in from Connecticut. We were all completely famished so we went to a small little cafe on a "peatonal" street where no car traffic is allowed. I crave salads these days, especially fresh vegetables. I was lucky to find the best salad nicoise in town!

Shortly after, my phone rang and I received a call from a local newspaper that had heard about Walkabout through our friend Rosana. The reporter, Maria, told me that she was very much interested in writing a story about Luis and the family on the Camino de Santiago for the "Nueva Espana," the most circulated newspaper in Asturias.

Wasting no time, Maria came to meet the family in Oviedo's main park, "Parque San Francisco." Luis was riding around on his bicycle and Maria was able to capture him in action! We posed as a family and gave a short interview. We look forward to reading the article on Thursday.

As we were leaving the park, I noticed a young guy in a Quickie wheelchair. He was with a young girl and what looked like his parents. I approached him, introduced myself, and told him all about Walkabout. His name is Robert and he was with his girlfriend, aunt and uncle. He had a car accident 9 years ago that left him paralyzed from the waist down. Instantaneously we became friends, all of us and all of them. We stayed chatting on the sidewalk for about an hour.

It was the perfect way to end the day. In Oviedo, the whole family together, with our old friends Esteban and Matias, and our new found friends, the sun setting, the temperature cooling, and all of us feeling a deep sense of accomplishment. Thanks to your support, every step we take is one step closer to finding the cure for paralysis.

Although I pray for clouds each day, I have to admit that I don't pray for rain. We woke up today to a thunder storm. By 8 am we were on the road, trying to find our way out of the city of Villaviciosa, in our ponchos.

Rain poses several problems for a peregrino on the Camino. For starters, you get soaking wet because no poncho that is light enough for you to carry is strong enough to ward off water. Secondly, your shoes have no protection therefore causing your socks and feet to get wet which is a perfect recipe for blisters. Third of all, you can't find your way given that you can barely see two feet in front of you.

All of these things happened to us, and more! We initiated the Camino by a small "ermita" (chapel) where there were two yellow arrows pointing in opposite directions. One arrow pointed towards the city of Gijon, while the other one pointed towards Oviedo. Because there was so much fog, my mother and I nearly headed in the wrong direction which would have put us 30 kilometers out of the way.

What shocked us was how quiet the towns were given that it was Monday. There was no traffic, no movement, not a person on the streets. We felt like we were walking through ghost towns, like we were in the middle of a scene from the movie "The Pianist" where there's only one person left standing in this world.

We walked quietly, my mom and I, in single file line until we reached The Monastery of San Salvador de Valdedios. Like the towns we had passed to get there, the monastery was empty too and extraordinarily quiet. I was eager to meet a monk or see a priest but unfortunately, there was not one in site. We visited the "albergue" (room) where peregrinos are allowed to stay and met three who were shielding themselves from the rain. The two girls, Clementine, were from France and the young guy was from Cadiz, Spain. All three of them said they were walking the Camino to "find something," whatever that something may be.

My mom and I spent the rest of the morning hiking up a mountain. I think it's the highest and longest climb we've had thus far. But to make matters more excruciating, the fog was so unbearable at such a high altitude that we could not see more than a foot in front of us. We had no choice but to ascend, and so we did, at a very slow pace.

Our only saving grace was the little friend we met along the way. Before initiating the climb, a tiny stray black dog began to follow us. He trailed behind us the entire way up the mountain, and every time we stopped to catch our breath, he paused too! Having him as our companion gave us a sense of security. Despite his diminutive size, we felt safe beside him.

At the top of the treacherous mountain we arrived at the town of Campo de Alto where there was nothing more than a gas station and small restaurant. We decided to avoid our sandwich lunch again, and instead treated ourselves to two fried eggs each! So gourmet!

By 3 pm we arrived at La Vega de Sariego, our destination. But seeing as it was still relatively early and we didn't feel too tired, we decided to continue. On the "Caretera Asturiana" we walked for another 10 kilometers, working our way to a town called Pola de Siero. In the middle of the highway, to our surprise, we bumped into my father, my youngest brother Matias, our family friend Esteban, and his son Matias, that were driving to meet us. My mother and I couldn't have been happier to see more Walkabout followers!

Matias, my brother, decided to walk with my mom and I for the last 5 kilometers while my father, Esteban, and the other Matias went by car to find Luis. They found Luis in mid-Camino and watched him finish his 26 kilometers!

"Caminante no hay camino se hace el camino al andar y al volver la vista atrás veras los pasos que nunca más volverás a pisar, caminante no hay camino sino estelas en el mar....."

Today marks the point of no return! We've been walking for two weeks straight and we have exactly another two weeks to go. There's no turning back now.

I guess all my prayers for clouds paid off! We woke up to an ugly grey day and dressed accordingly, leggings, sweaters, and ponchos. I am so burnt from yesterday's scorching sun that a day like today is very much appreciated.

We initiated our walk in the town of Ribadesella and the Camino immediately took us to the beach. Despite being cloudy and very early in the morning, there were people swimming and sun bathing. What is most amusing about this part of Spain is the way people take advantage of the beach despite the consistently bad weather. Rain or shine, you see every family heading there every morning with their bath mats, towels, and umbrellas.

We walked down the boardwalk and followed the yellow arrows into the heart of farmland. On the Camino, we came across two couples with their kids who introduced themselves to us. They were from Madrid but what's a funny coincidence is that one of the men was wearing a t-shirt that said "Casa de Campo, Dominican Republic." What are the chances on such a desolate trail, in the middle of the countryside in northern Spain?!

By 2 pm we had arrived at Playa de la Espasa, a wide long beach with hundreds of Spaniards on it. For the first time in 16 days, my mom and I sat down to have a proper lunch. After eating sandwiches on-the-go for the last two weeks straight, we devoured (and savored) a plate of meatballs and salad at a restaurant on the beach. The Camino provides you with a whole new appreciation of life's little things. Not only do you learn not to take anything for granted, but you also learn to appreciate a good meal, a warm shower, a symphony of cow bells, a call from a friend, a walking stick, the smell of eucalyptus trees, compeed, clouds, and another peregrino on your trail. I could go on and on, the list could be endless.

When we arrived at the town of La Isla, our book said to look for a sign with two "conchas" (shells, ie the symbolic emblem of the Camino de Santiago), and take a left at the sign following the Camino through a dirt road. My mom and I got completely lost, but to our surprise, sent like angels from God, Lucas and Marisa (our two peregrino friends) appeared out of no where! We hadn't seen them in several days and as if they knew where they were going, they found our way through bushes, weeds, and very tall grass.

Lucas and Marisa were headed to sleep in Sebrayo, while my mom and I were set to meet Luis at the hotel in a town called Villaviciosa. We parted ways with our friends and took a highway for the following 9 kilometers. It was never ending and painful, both physically and mentally. However, around the corner we met 3 cyclists whose bicycles were covered in flags. Intrigued, we stopped them in the middle of the road and found out that they were French and had been riding for over a year and a half straight across all of Europe. They were inspiring and motivating. They had traveled from Russia, to Scandanavia, Italy, Spain and all around.

30 kilometers and over 8 hours later we arrived at our destination. Luis told us about his magnificent ride, how he cycled 20 kilometers from a town called Cangas de Onis to Ribadesella. Once in Ribadesella, he rode for another 20 kilometers around the beach town and surrounding villages.

Luis told me that in Ribadesella he met a man who stopped him. The man was riding down the veranda in his electric wheelchair and told Luis he had had a car accident 24 years ago. Luis was taken aback by his kindness, his gentleness, and his welcoming and friendly demeanor. Wasting no time, Luis told him all about The Walkabout Foundation and they exchanged emails.

Later that night, I spoke to my dad on the phone who asked me about our journey. I told him everything, including that Luis had ridden over 40 kilometers. He concluded the conversation by saying that Luis is a "genio y un idolo." Without a doubt, he truly is our genius and idol.

Magic is the only word capable of describing today's adventure. Ines and Pedro organized for 15 of their Spanish friends to join us for the day and walk with us from our start point to our destination. I am utterly grateful for Ines and Pedro's support and all their friends' participation.

Ines had coordinated for all of us to meet in the Plaza Mayor of Santillana del Mar at 9:30 am where we initiated our 21 kilometer journey. My mother and I were introduced to all the new faces and were incredibly excited to get to know our new companions. We were also thrilled to welcome Ana and Guillermo to the group, old friends from our home town in Greenwich who happened to be in a nearby town on their summer vacation.

We began to ascend up the mountain, walking in small groups but nevertheless, all together. We looked like a heard of cows, or an army of ants, walking in procession. I stayed behind, towards the ed of the line, and got to know Lola and Marta who are good friends of Ines' from Madrid and spend their summers in Comillas. Both of them came with their respective sons, Jaime and Alvaro, both 19 years old. The boys were joined by their friend Jorge and Bea, who is Ines' daughter. Having a bunch of teenagers on the walk made it that much more fun and exciting!!

I was incredibly surprised by everyone's agility and ability to walk so many kilometers in such tremendous heat. A not-so-typical day for Comillas, the sun was shining, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the temperature reached 33 degrees. Nevertheless, everyone kept up with our steady pace and never once complained (albeit with blisters, jeans, and not the most comfortable sneakers).

Around 2 pm, after walking nearly 5 hours straight, all 18 of us perched ourselves on a hilltop and had a small lunch. We lost two friends, but gained an extra two, who joined us for our picnic. We each brought our own sandwich but exchanged extra's and leftovers. It was like a carousel of food going round and round in circles!

With our "pilas recargadas" (batteries recharged), we gained strength to push through the last 5 kilometers. We detoured away from the yellow arrows and decided to follow a different path that one of our local friends recommended instead. The unmarked path took us directly along the coast, parallel to the water, with the most amazing view of the Cantabrian sea. Pointing out different houses and sharing each family's different story, Ines' friends made us feel like we were part of their community. My mother and I felt right at home.

When we finally reached the town of Comillas around 5 pm, an unexpected surprise awaited us. Ines' friend Sonia had organized a banquet of food in her home. The tortilla de papa, croquetas, and pastries were devoured, and we were all blow away by her beautiful house located right in the center of town.

I dreaded bidding farewell to my new friends because I longed for time to stand still and hold that moment of today forever. Walking with 18 people made the whole experience truly magical. There are few words that can describe what it was like to see Walkabout's following. To compare it to Forrest Gump and his followers is a valid analogy, of course on a much smaller scale.

Back at the hotel we waited outside for Luis to arrive from his 25 kilometer ride. As he came speeding in, I managed to get my camcorder out just in time and film his grand arrival! He told us that on his last climb, just when he was about to give up, a car drove by and the people inside yelled "animo Luis, fuerza Luis!!" He didn't recognize who they were, but was pleasantly surprised to have total strangers cheer him on. It turns out it was some of Ines' friends, Walkabout's new friends, that gave Luis the strength he needed to carry on.