Dates: September 15 to October 18, 2017
Route: Saint Jean Pied de Port, France to Finisterre, Spain via Santiago de Compostela
Distance: 865 kms
Walking Days: 34
Average Distance/Day: 25.4 kms
Dispatch 1 – Days 1-8
I’m three days into the Camino with my fabulous friends, Sylvie Caouette and Céline Guay. I picked up a bad cold along the way, but the walking has been fabulous. We made it through the Pyrenees in a day and a half, crossing from France into Spain, a new country for me. Gorgeous views. It’s been quite a good spiritual and social adventure so far.
Had an interesting experience on the Camino yesterday. I have been ill with a nasty head cold. The pharmacy that was supposed to be open in Zubiri was closed. The owners had just started a two-week vacation. The Camino didn’t want me to get meds. It was a rough night for sleeping. Yesterday I suffered all morning. I couldn’t breathe, especially on the uphills. I could barely keep my head up at times, I was so weak.
I wandered into a church outside Pamplona with Sylvie and just started talking. Looking for an existential reason for my cold, I asked why I had let myself get sick. What was the Camino trying to teach me? Was it to slow down? No, that didn’t make sense; I had already decided to slow down. Was it because I felt I had to suffer because it was a pilgrimage? That made sense to me. So, I said out loud, “I don’t need to suffer to have an amazing spiritual experience on the Camino. The best thing you could do for me is to have me walk up this street and find a pharmacy that is open.”
Sylvie and I walked up the street 300 meters and found a pharmacy that was open. Within an hour, I could breathe again and was chatting away like a schoolboy.
Sylvie and I had a coffee and croissant in old Pamplona for about $2.25 Canadian. Such civilized hiking. And such fun. And as it turned out, it was a great day.
We walked 24 kilometers today, the last ten or so in 28-degree heat. And a nice juicy uphill with no shade for the last couple of kilometers. When I arrived at our pilgrim’s hostel, El Cantero, the owner, Mariola, said, “It’s ok, the hill is over, you are home now.” What a wonderful woman she is.
The day was filled with hills, one of which was a long uphill to a col, which wasn’t a problem, but the downhill was a challenge. It was a steep talus-filled gully. Thankfully, years of pilgrims walking through here has created a thin worn path through the boulders. But because some people are quite slow, you need to pass in the rubble. When I moved to pass a few people, I could hear my ankles screaming, nooooo.
It was an emotional day on the trail for some. I met a young Finnish woman in a church. She was crying. We chatted outside. She had been called to the Camino because her life was in shambles. She quit three jobs to come on the Camino, so this is no small event for her. She had been hoping for some answers on what she should do next in life, but they weren’t coming to her.
I stopped in every single open church along the Way today (there were three of them). Seems strange for an agnostic to go to church and send out requests for loved ones to the universe, but what the heck, when in Rome. I find that in most churches (not all though), there is good energy. Why not tap into it if it can help someone I care about?
A couple of days before I started the Camino, I learned that a very dear friend of mine has breast cancer. She has just started chemo and I went with her to have her hair shaved off. Like all women, she doesn’t deserve it. She is everything that is good in people. So, in the churches, I whisper requests on her behalf.
We are in the village of Maneru, population 450. This village is linked with the Knights Templar and the order of Saint John; very influential in the Middle Ages.
I loved this day. And still a pilgrim’s meal to come.
Dispatch 2 – Days 9-18
I’m in a cafe in the old part of Logrono, Spain. It’s going to be a hot day today – over 40 degrees. We hope to be finished walking by 1:00 to avoid the worst of the heat.
I’m always the first awake, so the other seven people in my dorm asked me to wake them at 6 am by singing Here Comes the Sun. Poor Kit; she couldn’t hear me even when a sang inches from her ear. Finally, Sylvie shook her awake. She was grateful because she also wants to finish before it’s too hot.
The last couple of days we’ve been walking through vineyards and olive groves. The grapes are ripe, but the olives are not. One farmer encourages the pilgrims to eat some grapes. It’s his advertising for his wine.
A couple of days ago, we passed the famous Fuente del Vino, a fountain of wine, courtesy of the Bodegas Winery. In the tradition of the Benedictine monks, they provide free wine for pilgrims. For myself, I opted to drink my wine out of my scallop shell, symbol of St James. I thought it would make a better story than drinking it out of my water bottle. Hehe.
The energy on this Camino is powerful, as are the relationships I’m having with my fellow pilgrims. Every day, I give thanks for this incredible opportunity.
Our merry little band has grown to nine. In addition to Sylvie and Celine I am traveling with Kim from Quebec, two women from France, Evelyn from Germany, Lena from Sweden, and Fernando from northern Spain. Tonight, we are in Belorado, at a fabulous little hostel, where I am waiting for my late pilgrim’s meal of garlic soup, a Spanish omelet, dessert, and, of course, red wine.
Everyone is hurting from the walking and the heat. Myself, I have blisters on both heals, reminding me that I have this silly belief that quests or pilgrimages require suffering. It’s a belief I’m working on changing.
Today, we passed through Santo Domingo, home of Saint Dominic, who spent his life supporting pilgrims. This is also the place of miracles. Legend has it that there was a couple who was traveling the Camino with their son. Here in Santo Domingo, an innkeeper’s daughter voiced her affection for the son, but he thwarted her advances. So, she hid a silver goblet in his bag. He was arrested as a thief and sentenced to hang. Meanwhile, his parents were oblivious and carried on to Santiago. On their return, they saw their son hanging in the gallows, but he was still alive. They ran to the sheriff, who was just sitting down to supper. The sheriff said, “That boy is no more alive than this cock on my plate.” Whereupon, the rooster came back to life and started squawking along the table. The miracle was not lost on the sheriff, who ran to the jail and released the boy, who was given a full pardon.
Such magic on the Camino.
We had the best breakfast so far on the Camino at the pilgrim’s hostel in Belorado. So delicious. So filling.
It didn’t stop us, of course, from stopping for a second breakfast at a cafe in the village of Villambistia. While drinking cafe con leche, I initiated a discussion about ‘group think’. Yesterday, we had missed seeing the interior of the cathedral in Santo Domingo. It had been 8:45 am and the cathedral didn’t open until 9:00 am, so we all left. Fifteen minutes was too long to wait. The Camino was waiting; we had to carry on. Yet, the cathedral in Santo Domingo is a major icon along the Camino, rich in history, culture, legends, and miracles. It’s a small regret that I now have because I missed it. We had beds already reserved, so there really was no reason why we couldn’t have waited 15 minutes until it opened. I don’t know much about Saint Dominic, except that he was shunned by the Catholic elite because he was illiterate, and so he dedicated his life to helping pilgrims along the Camino. It would have been nice to learn more about him, to walk in his footsteps. After all, who doesn’t love an underdog?
At the moment, I’m sitting on the top bunk in a dorm room in San Jose de Ortega, population 20. It seems that the sole purpose of this village is, and always has been since the Middle Ages, to support pilgrims. My bed is inside a medieval building adjacent to the church. It has a 16th century courtyard, which is currently being used by pilgrims to hang wet clothes. At 6:00 pm, we will all attend mass and afterward, the priest will give us garlic soup and bread for free, a tradition that was initiated by the previous priest, Jose Maria, who died in 2008. I’m looking forward to the experience, despite my agnostic tendencies. It’s all good energy anyway.
Today, I sadly said goodbye to my new friend, Fernando, who is heading back home for work.
We all walk the Camino alone. The relationships we develop are short and intense, and so the goodbyes are felt strongly in the heart. I miss Fernando already. And wish him well. Hopefully the Camino will help him find the answers to his difficult questions. That is, after all, why he came on this journey.
Buen Camino, my friends.
Dispatch 3 – Days 19-30
We’ve made our way through the meseta, the high plateau in the interior of Spain, so hot, desolate, and barren. It was quiet there, so quiet that we were afraid to speak aloud. Only the crunch of the stone beneath our feet broke the silence. We would speak of the meseta in whispers. Meseta. Meseta.
Today, Sylvie and I took an alternate route, which was a couple of kilometers longer than the main one, but it took us away from the sound of the highway. We walked along the longest stretch of old Roman road that still exists in Spain. I imagined what it would have been like to march along with those Roman soldiers of old. Emperor Augustus, the first Roman emperor, travelled this exact road; it felt strange and wonderful to walk in the footsteps of such a famous historical figure.
We are more than halfway to Santiago de Compostela. Pilgrims speak of the Camino as having three stages: the painful physical stage, the emotional stage, and the spiritual stage. Many people are still suffering physically. We pass people limping every day and help people in the evenings who still have painful blisters and leg pain. It’s difficult to get into the spiritual phase when feeling such pain, although some people are of the opinion that pain is the quickest route to spirituality. It’s not an idea I want to internalize.
There is a routine that most pilgrims follow. Up early at about 6:00, walk to the next town and have breakfast at a cafe, walk until early- to mid-afternoon and check into an alburgue (pilgrim hostel), shower, hand wash and hang clothes to dry, cook or eat a pilgrim’s meal at 7:00 pm, and then go to bed. I like the routine. And I like the pilgrim community. Part of my tribe.
The Camino seems to bring out the best in people. Most pilgrims suffer quietly, complain little, and are supportive, friendly, and polite. We cheer one another on with high fives, hugs, and greetings of Buen Camino. There is nothing that pleases a pilgrim more than when a local says to a pilgrim, Buen Camino. Two simple words, but the layers of meaning are deep. There is respect in the greeting, even a sense of awe for the task voluntarily taken, and an underlying wish for all things good for the traveler. It is yelled from windows and bicycles, spoken with a wave from local bakers and store owners, and whispered by passing pedestrians in the early pre-dawn light. Buen Camino. Buen Camino. The words ring merrily in the heart.
We’re more than halfway to Santiago, and I admit, I’m getting into the spirit of this Camino.
It’s been 26 days since I’ve seen rain. The mornings are cold, cold enough for a jacket, toque, and gloves. But even now in mid-October, the afternoon sun is oppressive. It’s hot. Hot enough that I dream of immersing myself in melting ice cream. Today, I saw a man stick his head under a water spout to cool off. Dogs lay in the dirt, too hot to move except to expose a belly to my caress. By noon, I see pilgrims at the cafes drinking cold beer, wiping their perspiring brows with a sleeve. I want a beer too, but I keep walking.
There are a lot of pilgrims on the trail now. To receive recognition for completing the pilgrimage, one must walk only 100 km to Santiago. Many people start in the town of Sarria, which is about 117 km from Santiago. They bring suitcases, have busses carry their suitcases to their daily destinations, and guides give them food and water at places where the trail crosses the road.
At a way marker, someone has written ‘Jesus never started in Sarria’. Jesus never did this walk, of course; the comment is a slight against those who do the absolute minimum required to receive their pilgrim certificates.
Yet, I see a man in obvious physical distress being guided by the hand of his wife. If he were to complete the 100 km walk to Santiago, it would be a major success. His 100 km of discomfort and pain is more than I can imagine. I wonder if I would have the courage and tenacity to complete it if I were in his shoes. Perhaps he will only do the minimal distance, but still, I am humbled before him.
I’m in Pedrouzo, Spain, just 20 km from Santiago de Compostela. I’ll be at the famous cathedral by noon tomorrow and my Camino, while not yet finished because of my desire to continue to Finisterre (the End of the World), will nevertheless come to an end for the purpose of receiving the Compostela as formal acknowledgement that I have completed the pilgrimage.
Our group of three that grew to twelve and then dwindled to four and grew to five has now split up for the last couple of days of walking to Santiago. We all need the solitude in these final days. It was an emotional last supper yesterday as we made the decision. We will meet in Santiago on Sunday evening for the pilgrims’ mass at the cathedral.
My Camino has been difficult. More difficult than I could have imagined. Not because of physical pain or exertion, but because the Camino had lessons for me. Lessons that are good for my personal growth, but that are tough on my ego.
I came here to walk with others. Virtually all of my hiking and climbing adventures over the past twenty years have been solo. In addition, I have been living alone for much of the last 13 years and so I have not had to think about the challenges of being part of a group that spends so much time together. I have been exposed to the drama of interpersonal relationships of others as a manager over the years, but have very rarely been immersed in it myself.
The Camino has shown me that I have some well-developed skills – patience, calmness, listening. But it has also shown me that I need to be conscious and wary of how my personality can affect others.
Tomorrow, I arrive in Santiago. But I must prepare mentally, emotionally even, for the arrival. It’s been an amazing journey and part of me does not want to see it end. I am sad that it is ending, but I don’t want to arrive at the cathedral feeling sad. I want to arrive with a feeling of elation, humble before Saint James, without whom this pilgrimage would not exist, and thankful, both for the opportunity to live the life I’m living and for the acceptance of requests and intentions I have made on behalf of my friends and loved ones.
So tonight, I will be thoughtful and meditative. And tomorrow, my feet, so sore, yet loyal, will carry me to my destination.
Buen Camino.
Dispatch 4 – Days 31-34
The rain stops and the sun breaks through the clouds as I enter Finisterre. A thousand years ago, this place was considered the End of the Earth. People still call it that today. And as I walk toward the lighthouse at the cape, I can imagine there is nothing out there beyond the sea. Only water. And mystery.
Waves crash against rock and the air tastes salty as I separate myself from the tourists and find a quiet place along the cliff. I hear a man with a backpack yell out to the sea while he raises his arms in triumph. He has just completed his Camino. I choke up and then wipe my eyes dry as a couple of tourists close in to take selfies.
There is no further west I can walk. The door is closed. And while the Camino had hard lessons for me, I don’t feel that I have the answers that I came here seeking. I am considering returning to St. Jean Pied-de-Port in France and then walking across Spain again. Or perhaps heading to Lisbon to walk the Portuguese Way. Or maybe walk the shorter English Way. I have the time. I feel like I’ve missed something here. Perhaps if I walk just a little further, maybe up the coast to Muxia, I’ll receive a sign. Others have asked for signs. One woman, trying to decide if she should continue to date a man, asked to see a blue butterfly, which she had not yet seen on the Camino. In answer, she saw a multitude of blue butterflies that day.
I begin to have an inkling of an idea. It’s a ridiculous idea and I laugh at the thought of it. It’s the kind of idea that might cause others to question my sanity. But the more I run it through my head, the more it starts to make sense to me. I shake my head no. The idea is too crazy. Much, much too crazy. And yet, the idea persists. It gains its own power and I can’t let it go.
St James was a straight shooter. He spoke his mind, which sometimes got him in trouble. He didn’t speak in parables like Jesus; he shot straight from the hip. I had been wondering how I might just ask him questions directly. I had just walked across Spain and didn’t know what to do next. Should I stay on the Camino? Should I go? I was hoping to figure out what to do next in my life, but was no further ahead in my thinking than when I started this Camino.
I decide to implement my idea. I can’t help myself. I pull a Toonie out of my pocket. It had travelled with me from Canada and had been with me every step of the Way. I hold it up and say, “St James, this is your voice. Heads for ‘no’ and tails, or bears, for ‘yes’.”
I ask questions, some of which are for me alone. The two relevant ones I share here are: Do I need to return to St Jean now and redo this Camino alone? I flip the coin and let it land in the dirt. (No). Is there any further walking I need to do on the Camino at this time? I flip the coin again. (No).
And so, this journey ends for me, my friends. I look out to the sea and celebrate this walk with Swiss chocolate. I savour the taste, let it melt in my mouth.
Finally, I throw my pack over my shoulder and turn back inland. Another door opens.