Last year I wrote in this blog (see below) that I planned to write more about my experience -- and I have!
My book, The Way of Stars and Stones is finally out on the shelves and available.
you can obtain a copy online from the publishers in South Africa, Jacana Book (Jacana) or from myself -- write to Wilna Wilkinson
The Way of Stars and Stones -- Thoughts on a Pilgrimage
ISBN978-0-77009-749-0
Now available in SA Book stores and on Jacana website
Jacana
Retail price: ZAR 175.00 (excl. postage) from South Africa
or €17 (excl postage) from me in France.
All proceeds of this edition go to cancer research.
Soon available on amazon
stones, tears -- and Neruda
a message from the Camino...
Today I took the stone that I had been carrying for many years, from my pocket --- it was hurting me just too much.
I hurled it into an empty ploughed field that stretched for ever -- right past the horizon -- I hurled it so far that there was no possibility of me ever again going to find it amongst a million others, -- or to return it to my pocket.
When I arrived at this refugio tonight, bitterly cold and frozen, there was a huge open fire waiting and, as if for me, and only me, a book of Pablo Neruda´s poetry lay on the table next to the fire ---
I burst into tears -- and I cried for the beauty of it, for the relief of the beautiful poetry, for the warmth, for the sore feet and the frozen fingers --- and mostly for the stone that is missing from my pocket -- for all time.
Now, you are mine. Rest with your dream inside my dream.
Love, pain, and work, must sleep now.
Night revolves on invisible wheels
and joined to me you are pure as sleeping amber.
No one else will sleep with my dream, love.
You will go; we will go joined by the waters of time.
No other one will travel the shadows with me,
only you, ever green, ever sun, ever moon.
--Neruda
There are many myths and legends on the Camino -- and -- probably because there are so many stones (have I mentioned the stones?!) many of these legends revolve around the stones. I shall be writing more about them and the different beliefs about them and a few interesting little stories and anecdotes.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
A little madness? - but all for a good cause!
A 800km walk down a mediaeval footpath under the stars of the milky way in Northern Spain
This is the way of peace:
Overcome evil with good,
and falsehood with truth,
and hatred with love ....Peace Pilgrim
This is the way of peace:
Overcome evil with good,
and falsehood with truth,
and hatred with love ....Peace Pilgrim
Why make this pilgrimage?
I have always had a yearning to do things that challenge me -- to take the road less travelled, to explore the unknown territory. Deciding to walk the Camino de Santiago-- making the pilgrimage to Santiago Compostela, is not taking a road less travelled -- on the contrary -- thousands walk this road every year! Nor is it unknown territory -- it is probably the best known pilgrimage of all time. But for me it will be -- finally taking on this challenge that I had set myself several years ago will be the road less travelled and an unknown territory in my personal life in every sense.`
Father Frank de Gouveia said:
“Every major religion has a tradition and practice of pilgrimage.
Pilgrimage is a ritual journey, either alone or in a group, with the aim of achieving purification, perfection or salvation; a religious experience in which a series of bonds are established between a place of this world and a higher sphere, between an individual traveller and a community, between a flesh-and-blood pilgrim and he who is reborn, purified by the consummation of his goal. These bonds are what distinguish pilgrimage from other types of journey or travel.
Pilgrimage requires a sacred journey, a sacred place and a sacred goal. The sacred place may take many forms – a tree, a spring, a mountain, or a place where holy relics are revered. On the journey – a metaphor of earthly life – a personal transformation is initiated and effected through a series of rites that culminate in the moment of arrival. Here, his goal attained, the pilgrim is reborn, a new man.” [/i]
All the above refers to pilgrims in the traditional sense. Of course, many people do the camino for other reasons – they may be keen walkers who want to do a truly long walk, they may want to walk on Roman roads or see famous places, they may want to find themselves or ponder the meaning of life and their place in it. They may be religiously motivated or simply look for a spiritual experience. They may hope to find the reason for their need to make the pilgrimage along the way....
Pilgrims have been travelling to Santiago de Compostela on foot or horseback for over a thousand years. (The Bishop of Le Puy, who went there in AD 950, was one of the first). Some say the cult of the spiritual traveller along the path existed even earlier as the way led to Cape Finisterre the end of the known world.
The route to Santiago was a Roman trade-route. It was nicknamed by travellers la voje lade, the Milky WayIt was the road under the stars. The pale arm of the Milky Way that stretched out and pointed the way to the edge of the known world : to Cape Finisterre, and Santiago --- far away under the mists and Atlantic skies of Galicia, woods and water in a Celtic landscape of menhirs and lost gods that exert an appeal that is infinitely pre Christian.
Its 800 kilometers from the Saint Jean Pied de Port in the foothills of the Pyrenees to Santiago de Compostela in the western reaches of Galicia have changed little in that time. For although sections of it have now become modern tarred roads and many of the refuges and other accommodation set up by religious orders along the way to minister to the needs of pilgrims have long since disappeared, the Camino still passes through the same villages, crosses the same rivers, visits the same chapels, churches, cathedrals and other monuments as did the path taken by our predecessors in centuries gone by.
At the height of its popularity in the eleventh and twelfth centuries over half a million people a year are said to have made the pilgrimage from different parts of Europe, the majority of them from France.
The high point of the pilgrimage occurred between the years 1000 and l500 but although numbers dwindled after that, due to the Reformation and other, political, factors, the stream of pilgrims making the trudge westwards to the far reaches of Galiciain north-west Spain never completely dried up and in the late twentieth century is making something of a comeback.
Several thousand people walk the Way of St James (Sant' Iago) every year, whether from the Pyrenees, from different parts of France or from even further afield: it is not uncommon, even nowadays, to meet Swiss, German, Belgian or Dutch pilgrims, for example, who have set out from home to make the entire journey on foot. The Cathedral authorities in Santiago maintain a register of pilgrims and in 1991 recorded a total of 7274 travelling on foot, bicycle or horseback (compared with 5760 in 1989, the year of the Pope's August visit there, and 4918 in 1990).
Father Frank de Gouveia said:
“Every major religion has a tradition and practice of pilgrimage.
Pilgrimage is a ritual journey, either alone or in a group, with the aim of achieving purification, perfection or salvation; a religious experience in which a series of bonds are established between a place of this world and a higher sphere, between an individual traveller and a community, between a flesh-and-blood pilgrim and he who is reborn, purified by the consummation of his goal. These bonds are what distinguish pilgrimage from other types of journey or travel.
Pilgrimage requires a sacred journey, a sacred place and a sacred goal. The sacred place may take many forms – a tree, a spring, a mountain, or a place where holy relics are revered. On the journey – a metaphor of earthly life – a personal transformation is initiated and effected through a series of rites that culminate in the moment of arrival. Here, his goal attained, the pilgrim is reborn, a new man.” [/i]
All the above refers to pilgrims in the traditional sense. Of course, many people do the camino for other reasons – they may be keen walkers who want to do a truly long walk, they may want to walk on Roman roads or see famous places, they may want to find themselves or ponder the meaning of life and their place in it. They may be religiously motivated or simply look for a spiritual experience. They may hope to find the reason for their need to make the pilgrimage along the way....
Pilgrims have been travelling to Santiago de Compostela on foot or horseback for over a thousand years. (The Bishop of Le Puy, who went there in AD 950, was one of the first). Some say the cult of the spiritual traveller along the path existed even earlier as the way led to Cape Finisterre the end of the known world.
The route to Santiago was a Roman trade-route. It was nicknamed by travellers la voje lade, the Milky WayIt was the road under the stars. The pale arm of the Milky Way that stretched out and pointed the way to the edge of the known world : to Cape Finisterre, and Santiago --- far away under the mists and Atlantic skies of Galicia, woods and water in a Celtic landscape of menhirs and lost gods that exert an appeal that is infinitely pre Christian.
Its 800 kilometers from the Saint Jean Pied de Port in the foothills of the Pyrenees to Santiago de Compostela in the western reaches of Galicia have changed little in that time. For although sections of it have now become modern tarred roads and many of the refuges and other accommodation set up by religious orders along the way to minister to the needs of pilgrims have long since disappeared, the Camino still passes through the same villages, crosses the same rivers, visits the same chapels, churches, cathedrals and other monuments as did the path taken by our predecessors in centuries gone by.
At the height of its popularity in the eleventh and twelfth centuries over half a million people a year are said to have made the pilgrimage from different parts of Europe, the majority of them from France.
The high point of the pilgrimage occurred between the years 1000 and l500 but although numbers dwindled after that, due to the Reformation and other, political, factors, the stream of pilgrims making the trudge westwards to the far reaches of Galiciain north-west Spain never completely dried up and in the late twentieth century is making something of a comeback.
Several thousand people walk the Way of St James (Sant' Iago) every year, whether from the Pyrenees, from different parts of France or from even further afield: it is not uncommon, even nowadays, to meet Swiss, German, Belgian or Dutch pilgrims, for example, who have set out from home to make the entire journey on foot. The Cathedral authorities in Santiago maintain a register of pilgrims and in 1991 recorded a total of 7274 travelling on foot, bicycle or horseback (compared with 5760 in 1989, the year of the Pope's August visit there, and 4918 in 1990).
The Shell of the Camino Pilgrim Some interesting observations from the Net about the Scallop Shell - the symbol of the Camino
The Myth
As with many myths, the details change depending on who is telling the story, but here’s the one I’m going to tell you.
James, the brother of Jesus, was killed in Jerusalem for his convictions about his brother. James had spent some time preaching on the Iberian Peninsula, and after his death, his bones were mysteriously transported by a ship with no crew back to the Iberian Peninsula to the Northwestern province of Galicia in Spain.
A wedding was taking place along the shore as James’ ship approached land. The young bridegroom was on horseback, and on seeing the ship approaching, his horse got spooked, and the horse and rider plunged into the sea.
Through miraculous intervention, the horse and rider emerged from the water, covered in seashells, and galloped off into the distance.
To this day, the scallop shell, typically found on the shores in Galicia, remains the symbol of the Camino de Santiago.
The Metaphor
The scallop shell also acts as a metaphor. The grooves in the shell, which come together at a single point, represent the various routes pilgrims traveled, eventually arriving at a single destination, the tomb of Saint James in Santiago de Compostela.
The scallop shell is also a metaphor for the pilgrim. As the waves of the ocean washed scallop shells up on the shores of Galicia, God’s hand also guided the pilgrims to Santiago.
The Practicality
The scallop shell served practical purposes for pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago as well. The shell was just the right size for gathering water to drink or for eating out of as a makeshift bowl.
Also, because the scallop shell is native to the shores of Galicia, the shell functioned as proof of completion. By having a scallop shell, a pilgrim could almost certainly prove that he or she had finished the pilgrimage and had actually seen the “end of the world”—which at that point in history was the Western coast of Spain.
As with many myths, the details change depending on who is telling the story, but here’s the one I’m going to tell you.
James, the brother of Jesus, was killed in Jerusalem for his convictions about his brother. James had spent some time preaching on the Iberian Peninsula, and after his death, his bones were mysteriously transported by a ship with no crew back to the Iberian Peninsula to the Northwestern province of Galicia in Spain.
A wedding was taking place along the shore as James’ ship approached land. The young bridegroom was on horseback, and on seeing the ship approaching, his horse got spooked, and the horse and rider plunged into the sea.
Through miraculous intervention, the horse and rider emerged from the water, covered in seashells, and galloped off into the distance.
To this day, the scallop shell, typically found on the shores in Galicia, remains the symbol of the Camino de Santiago.
The Metaphor
The scallop shell also acts as a metaphor. The grooves in the shell, which come together at a single point, represent the various routes pilgrims traveled, eventually arriving at a single destination, the tomb of Saint James in Santiago de Compostela.
The scallop shell is also a metaphor for the pilgrim. As the waves of the ocean washed scallop shells up on the shores of Galicia, God’s hand also guided the pilgrims to Santiago.
The Practicality
The scallop shell served practical purposes for pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago as well. The shell was just the right size for gathering water to drink or for eating out of as a makeshift bowl.
Also, because the scallop shell is native to the shores of Galicia, the shell functioned as proof of completion. By having a scallop shell, a pilgrim could almost certainly prove that he or she had finished the pilgrimage and had actually seen the “end of the world”—which at that point in history was the Western coast of Spain.
A glimpse of what to expect? The is exciting -- but scary stuff!
I spent my usual two hours today studying more websites and books written about the Camino and specifically planning the day to day stages that I will do. This way I can get a better idea of how long I will be away and also get a better picture of the refuges available to me on the way.
There is so much written about the refuges -- and yet almost all the information is about lice in the beds, the lack of heating -- and the snoring of other pilgrims!
And then -- I came across an excellent detailed account of a pilgrim who had made the pilgrimage in winter..........
All of a sudden I am starting to shiver in my boots!
Instead of these idyllic pictures of pathways and refuges, dusty roads and warm sunshine..........
Stories of walkers getting lost in the mist, literally getting blown off course on the highest peaks, being warned against walking alone, freezing to death (the last case as recent as April 2007!) or slipping on the snow and breaking ankles and having to be rescued by search parties, had me feeling a little nervous..............
Starting to count the sleeps .....
(the ones that are left in a comfortable bed!!) and still looking for a 'hook' for my book about the Camino.........
Another day of reading about another thousand people’s experiences on the Camino…..
I know – not quite a thousand – but the lists of books and the entries on the internet do seem endless.
A few websites brighten up my day with their weird and wonderful translations from every language imaginable -- such as " after all of these years it [the website -sic] developed, includings all the importants informations to the pilgrims who wishes to cross the way by feet, by contributions of a great number of pilgrims that assimilated the spirit of the Camino de Santiago: "helping each others", --- or the Confraternity of St James who inform their readers that "The office computer, stolen during the night of 11-12 January 2008, has now been replaced, and e-mails should be reaching us again. "
There are many sites and blogs with excellent hints and tips, but after conscientiously studying these and memorising such life saving important bits as
" 1. Cemeteries in France are not kept locked, and nearly all have a tap of drinking water near the gate (in case anyone is overcome during a funeral). Spanish cemeteries are kept locked, and probably don't have a water supply anyway. (truly helpful, that one!)
2. Make your broad-brimmed hat a fabric one which you can dunk in streams: there's nothing to beat the impromptu shower this gives you. (At temperatures of minus freezing? I don't think so, but thanks!)
3. Chuck your laundry into the shower-base as you undress, then trample on it while you shampoo and soap. It will be half-washed by the time you emerge. (Has this man ever looked down at the shower-base of a public shower? Yuck!)
4. If you're cooking for yourself, and find it difficult to shop for one, look out for what previous pilgrims have left in the store cupboard, and leave behind for later comers what you can't carry away. (Reminds me of a reluctantly single male friend of mine who looks for a shopping trolley at the super market that has a grocery list in it that had been left behind. He had been told to always have a grocery list when he goes shopping, but cannot be bothered to write one, so he buys his groceries off other shopping people's lists! Make for interesting purchases.)
5. If you're walking westwards on a busy road early in the morning, remember that the on-coming drivers have the rising sun in their eyes and may find it hard to see you: take extra care. " and so on and so on, I was soon reminded of the days before my first child was born and I was bombarded by well-meaning friends and family members who came laden with books of every shape and size pontificating on how the baby should be washed, fed, clothed, spoken to, sung to, carried.......... I very quickly realised that I could choose to go mad with the overload of conflicting information and make a miserable mess of raising my new-born, or I could do what all the strong and wise women in my family who came before me did, and follow my natural instinct.
And then, every now and then I come across a book or an internet entry that keeps me mesmerised for hours – I want to read every sentence on every page and learn what I can from their experience. Beautiful descriptions of the route, funny little stories about people they met along the way, experiences in the refuges, spiritual awakenings along the route.
One such discovery I made that had me stop in my tracks for a few quiet moments today was the writing of another woman who had walked the Way on her own, [b]Susan Kenney -- in particular it was the lovely little story she had picked up along the way about picking up stones and putting them on the cairns on the side of the road, that appealed to me. You see, I am such a stone collector myself -- and the thought has fleetingly crossed my mind a (ridiculous) number of times, leaving a niggling little reminder every time, that I would have to address the potentially 'heavy' problem and make a decision before I leave on how I am going to discipline myself and not succumb to this (weight collecting) compulsive habit of mine. I loved her little story and will take it with me, because it means I can indulge in my weakness, but make it count for all those very special people in my life who will be with me in spirit on my journey. -- Have a look at the story, and tell me if you agree that it is lovely --
Stone by Stone
The next day I left in the stillness of the winter morning to walk 34 kilometers alone. It was a gorgeous sunny day. The terrain was easy with only one a small mountain range to challenge me. For some reason on this day I noticed neat piles of stones placed on the edge of the path or piled on top of the concrete markers that were decorated with a blue tile imbedded with a scallop shell symbol indicating the way to Santiago. I assumed the piles of stones were placed by the pilgrims before me and wanting to be a part of a historic ritual, I added a stone of my own. Even though I didn’t understand why I did this, I felt like I was a part of something very special.
Around 3:00 p.m. I arrived in the city of Estella, which means star in Spanish. Located at the point where the Camino Frances meets with the Camino Arles route joining the two paths to Santiago, it brings pilgrims from different routes together.
Later that afternoon, I arrived at the refugio and introduced myself to the others who had journeyed from the four corners of the world. They were gathered here from Germany, Argentina, Brazil, Holland, Switzerland and Madrid. The refugio had no cooking facilities available so some of us decided to go out together for a pilgrim’s meal at a local restaurant.
Everyone was from a different country and so the conversation was a feast of many languages. Luckily for me, someone was always able to translate what was being said into English. During a lull in the conversation, I asked if anyone at the table knew the reasons for the piles of stones left along the way. Sitting directly across from me, Andreas, a young German pilgrim smiled with anticipation and told me he knew a story about the stones. Speaking slowly, he explained. "It is said, if you pick up a stone and put some of your sorrow into it, when you place the stone down you leave some of your sorrow behind.”
I was moved. The story resonated with me. If I could leave my sorrow on the Camino, surely it would create more space in my heart for love. The next day, as soon as I went outside to begin walking, the first thing I did was to pick up a stone. I wasn’t sure how to put my sorrow into a stone, so I just imagined I could. Holding the stone in my hand as I walked, I caressed the smooth edges with my fingers like I was rubbing the sorrow into it. After a few minutes, I carefully set the stone down on the side of the path, letting go of my sorrow with it. Almost immediately, my heart opened up for more love and it felt so good that I wanted to pick up another stone right away. So I did, but this time I thought about putting the sorrow of my daughters into the stone. Seeing a small round stone, I picked it up for my oldest daughter Tara. I held it for a while as I walked, putting her sorrow into it and then I placed it down on the path. The next stone I picked up was for middle daughter Meghan. I held the stone close to my heart imagining her sorrow was moving into the stone, and then I gently placed it down too. Finally, I picked up a stone for Simone, my youngest daughter. With intention, I put her sorrow into the stone too. Never at any time did I suppose I knew exactly what their sorrow was, I only knew they possessed it. This was my secret gift to them. It was perfect. This would soon become a daily ritual for me.
Two weeks later and having picked up supplies for the journey to climb O’Cebreiro, I returned to the refugio in Villa Franca. When I opened the door to go inside, sitting there at the table was the German pilgrim, Andreas who had told me the story of the sorrow stones. The first thing I mentioned to him was the profound impact his story had on me. I was shocked when he said, “I don’t actually believe in sorrow stones." I was so stunned by this comment, I couldn’t speak. “It’s just a story a friend told me that I was sharing with you.” For me, the ritual of leaving my own sorrow and the sorrow of others along the Camino had changed my life. Hearing this, I came to a full realization of the true power of believing in something. It was my faith in the possibility that I could put sorrow into a stone, that had made it real for me. Now I knew that it didn’t matter if Andreas believed in the stones or not. In the end, what’s important is whatever I believe.
Ah! But then I wade through the next thirty books and entries of drivel – stories about extra terrestrial visits and conversations with the spirits abound (– one of the most famous of these probably Shirley McLain’s book, The Camino) a popular best seller whose only merit I can see -- so far, is that it is by a well –known actress who is known for her dabbling in the supernatural; or detailed accounts of every step, every blister, every fallen leaf along the way that have me yawning after ten minutes; – or even worse– the juvenile gushings about the joy, the liberation, the enlightenment, the visions, oooooooooooh! My Gosh! One gusher -- who has actually had a book published about her experiences along the Camino, writes:
“Le Chemin de Saint Jacques is the way of life, the way of space, the way of infinity. No room for sadness, no rooms for narrow mindedness, for rigid hearts and minds, or pettiness, or rancour or envy. It is the moment of adventure, of the launch of ecstasy, rupture with the past, entry into the new, from this stage in your life where you will always be pushed to go a little further, , a little higher, a little better a little purer, clearer, more beautiful. It is an immense fortune to light the flame which had been sleeping for so long. It is the road of life, of love and infinity. It is the way of my love for you --- and all my life I have dreamed of meeting this love”………
One of the main reasons the original pilgrims walked to Santiago de Compostela, was to obtain indulgences from the church -- to shorten their time in purgatory after their death and on their way to eternal life. This started in 1189 when Pope Alexander III declared Santiago de Compostela a Holy City, along with Jerusalem and Rome. According to his edit the pilgrims who made the pilgrimage and reached Santiago, were assured of having halved their time in purgatory and those who accomplished it in a Holy Year, could actually bypass purgatory altogether. I am dreading arriving at a refuge late in the afternoon, just before the sunset, when my legs will no more, and my feet are crying out for a rest, cold and wet and tired, and finding only one other person in the dormitory of the refuge and it turns out to be a gusher. Surely that would count for at least ten years reprieve from Purgatory -- or would that in fact be an early dress rehearsal for Purgatory itself? I have to admit I would rather not find out!
I realise that to have a book published in a market that is so saturated with books and publications, I might have to either sell my soul and devise some gimmick that will let the book stand out in a sea of clones, or I will have to stumble across a brilliant angle that no one has noticed before.
Many thousands have done the pilgrimage and continue to do it every year. Over the years the numbers grow exponentially and at a rampant rate. I would need to confirm the numbers, but they are phenomenal. From about 7 000 in the beginning of the 90's, the figures have shot off the page, and by 2007 they exceeded 25 000 people who had walked the last 100km of the pilgrimage. (One only has to complete the last 100km to Santiago de Compostela in order to be acknowledged as having 'done it'! Not nearly as many as that walk the entire 'official' Camino, namely from Saint Jean-Pied-du-Port). These days more people complete the pilgrimage on bicycle than on foot. Then there are the Harley pilgrims, the grey nomads in their camper vans and the gap year youngsters with their i-pods plugged in and thumbs tapping a running commentary on their mobile phones every step of the way, the Japanese tourists who follow the little yellow flag of their guide and the Americans with their support teams racing ahead to prepare the meals and the beds, the English who come across the channel in ferries and the Belgians who race down the highways from the grey low skies of the north. They come from every corner of the world to walk the Way of St James. Every religion, every faith, every colour and every language – and just about one in every ten, it seems, goes back home and writes a book or a website or a blog on their own personal pilgrimage.
I never thought about that when I listened to my heart telling me the time was right to finally take the road this year and more particularly, right now. I did not think twice about the time of year in which I am going to do the walk – but had I thought about it, I would have most certainly chosen exactly the same date that I have – 11 February -- even after reading all the many horror stories about the loneliness, the mist, the wind, the rain, the snow, the cold, the deaths of pilgrims who get lost in the mountains at this time of the year. Perhaps the ‘theme’ for my book -- the theme which will make my book stand out in the plethora of printed Camino stories out there, will come to me in the same way – out of nowhere, from a deep subconscious gut feel, an instinctive notion, a revelation in a vivid dream, a passing remark by a friend – yes, I am ready and waiting -- perhaps that answer will come to me any day now.
There is so much written about the refuges -- and yet almost all the information is about lice in the beds, the lack of heating -- and the snoring of other pilgrims!
And then -- I came across an excellent detailed account of a pilgrim who had made the pilgrimage in winter..........
All of a sudden I am starting to shiver in my boots!
Instead of these idyllic pictures of pathways and refuges, dusty roads and warm sunshine..........
Stories of walkers getting lost in the mist, literally getting blown off course on the highest peaks, being warned against walking alone, freezing to death (the last case as recent as April 2007!) or slipping on the snow and breaking ankles and having to be rescued by search parties, had me feeling a little nervous..............
Starting to count the sleeps .....
(the ones that are left in a comfortable bed!!) and still looking for a 'hook' for my book about the Camino.........
Another day of reading about another thousand people’s experiences on the Camino…..
I know – not quite a thousand – but the lists of books and the entries on the internet do seem endless.
A few websites brighten up my day with their weird and wonderful translations from every language imaginable -- such as " after all of these years it [the website -sic] developed, includings all the importants informations to the pilgrims who wishes to cross the way by feet, by contributions of a great number of pilgrims that assimilated the spirit of the Camino de Santiago: "helping each others", --- or the Confraternity of St James who inform their readers that "The office computer, stolen during the night of 11-12 January 2008, has now been replaced, and e-mails should be reaching us again. "
There are many sites and blogs with excellent hints and tips, but after conscientiously studying these and memorising such life saving important bits as
" 1. Cemeteries in France are not kept locked, and nearly all have a tap of drinking water near the gate (in case anyone is overcome during a funeral). Spanish cemeteries are kept locked, and probably don't have a water supply anyway. (truly helpful, that one!)
2. Make your broad-brimmed hat a fabric one which you can dunk in streams: there's nothing to beat the impromptu shower this gives you. (At temperatures of minus freezing? I don't think so, but thanks!)
3. Chuck your laundry into the shower-base as you undress, then trample on it while you shampoo and soap. It will be half-washed by the time you emerge. (Has this man ever looked down at the shower-base of a public shower? Yuck!)
4. If you're cooking for yourself, and find it difficult to shop for one, look out for what previous pilgrims have left in the store cupboard, and leave behind for later comers what you can't carry away. (Reminds me of a reluctantly single male friend of mine who looks for a shopping trolley at the super market that has a grocery list in it that had been left behind. He had been told to always have a grocery list when he goes shopping, but cannot be bothered to write one, so he buys his groceries off other shopping people's lists! Make for interesting purchases.)
5. If you're walking westwards on a busy road early in the morning, remember that the on-coming drivers have the rising sun in their eyes and may find it hard to see you: take extra care. " and so on and so on, I was soon reminded of the days before my first child was born and I was bombarded by well-meaning friends and family members who came laden with books of every shape and size pontificating on how the baby should be washed, fed, clothed, spoken to, sung to, carried.......... I very quickly realised that I could choose to go mad with the overload of conflicting information and make a miserable mess of raising my new-born, or I could do what all the strong and wise women in my family who came before me did, and follow my natural instinct.
And then, every now and then I come across a book or an internet entry that keeps me mesmerised for hours – I want to read every sentence on every page and learn what I can from their experience. Beautiful descriptions of the route, funny little stories about people they met along the way, experiences in the refuges, spiritual awakenings along the route.
One such discovery I made that had me stop in my tracks for a few quiet moments today was the writing of another woman who had walked the Way on her own, [b]Susan Kenney -- in particular it was the lovely little story she had picked up along the way about picking up stones and putting them on the cairns on the side of the road, that appealed to me. You see, I am such a stone collector myself -- and the thought has fleetingly crossed my mind a (ridiculous) number of times, leaving a niggling little reminder every time, that I would have to address the potentially 'heavy' problem and make a decision before I leave on how I am going to discipline myself and not succumb to this (weight collecting) compulsive habit of mine. I loved her little story and will take it with me, because it means I can indulge in my weakness, but make it count for all those very special people in my life who will be with me in spirit on my journey. -- Have a look at the story, and tell me if you agree that it is lovely --
Stone by Stone
The next day I left in the stillness of the winter morning to walk 34 kilometers alone. It was a gorgeous sunny day. The terrain was easy with only one a small mountain range to challenge me. For some reason on this day I noticed neat piles of stones placed on the edge of the path or piled on top of the concrete markers that were decorated with a blue tile imbedded with a scallop shell symbol indicating the way to Santiago. I assumed the piles of stones were placed by the pilgrims before me and wanting to be a part of a historic ritual, I added a stone of my own. Even though I didn’t understand why I did this, I felt like I was a part of something very special.
Around 3:00 p.m. I arrived in the city of Estella, which means star in Spanish. Located at the point where the Camino Frances meets with the Camino Arles route joining the two paths to Santiago, it brings pilgrims from different routes together.
Later that afternoon, I arrived at the refugio and introduced myself to the others who had journeyed from the four corners of the world. They were gathered here from Germany, Argentina, Brazil, Holland, Switzerland and Madrid. The refugio had no cooking facilities available so some of us decided to go out together for a pilgrim’s meal at a local restaurant.
Everyone was from a different country and so the conversation was a feast of many languages. Luckily for me, someone was always able to translate what was being said into English. During a lull in the conversation, I asked if anyone at the table knew the reasons for the piles of stones left along the way. Sitting directly across from me, Andreas, a young German pilgrim smiled with anticipation and told me he knew a story about the stones. Speaking slowly, he explained. "It is said, if you pick up a stone and put some of your sorrow into it, when you place the stone down you leave some of your sorrow behind.”
I was moved. The story resonated with me. If I could leave my sorrow on the Camino, surely it would create more space in my heart for love. The next day, as soon as I went outside to begin walking, the first thing I did was to pick up a stone. I wasn’t sure how to put my sorrow into a stone, so I just imagined I could. Holding the stone in my hand as I walked, I caressed the smooth edges with my fingers like I was rubbing the sorrow into it. After a few minutes, I carefully set the stone down on the side of the path, letting go of my sorrow with it. Almost immediately, my heart opened up for more love and it felt so good that I wanted to pick up another stone right away. So I did, but this time I thought about putting the sorrow of my daughters into the stone. Seeing a small round stone, I picked it up for my oldest daughter Tara. I held it for a while as I walked, putting her sorrow into it and then I placed it down on the path. The next stone I picked up was for middle daughter Meghan. I held the stone close to my heart imagining her sorrow was moving into the stone, and then I gently placed it down too. Finally, I picked up a stone for Simone, my youngest daughter. With intention, I put her sorrow into the stone too. Never at any time did I suppose I knew exactly what their sorrow was, I only knew they possessed it. This was my secret gift to them. It was perfect. This would soon become a daily ritual for me.
Two weeks later and having picked up supplies for the journey to climb O’Cebreiro, I returned to the refugio in Villa Franca. When I opened the door to go inside, sitting there at the table was the German pilgrim, Andreas who had told me the story of the sorrow stones. The first thing I mentioned to him was the profound impact his story had on me. I was shocked when he said, “I don’t actually believe in sorrow stones." I was so stunned by this comment, I couldn’t speak. “It’s just a story a friend told me that I was sharing with you.” For me, the ritual of leaving my own sorrow and the sorrow of others along the Camino had changed my life. Hearing this, I came to a full realization of the true power of believing in something. It was my faith in the possibility that I could put sorrow into a stone, that had made it real for me. Now I knew that it didn’t matter if Andreas believed in the stones or not. In the end, what’s important is whatever I believe.
Ah! But then I wade through the next thirty books and entries of drivel – stories about extra terrestrial visits and conversations with the spirits abound (– one of the most famous of these probably Shirley McLain’s book, The Camino) a popular best seller whose only merit I can see -- so far, is that it is by a well –known actress who is known for her dabbling in the supernatural; or detailed accounts of every step, every blister, every fallen leaf along the way that have me yawning after ten minutes; – or even worse– the juvenile gushings about the joy, the liberation, the enlightenment, the visions, oooooooooooh! My Gosh! One gusher -- who has actually had a book published about her experiences along the Camino, writes:
“Le Chemin de Saint Jacques is the way of life, the way of space, the way of infinity. No room for sadness, no rooms for narrow mindedness, for rigid hearts and minds, or pettiness, or rancour or envy. It is the moment of adventure, of the launch of ecstasy, rupture with the past, entry into the new, from this stage in your life where you will always be pushed to go a little further, , a little higher, a little better a little purer, clearer, more beautiful. It is an immense fortune to light the flame which had been sleeping for so long. It is the road of life, of love and infinity. It is the way of my love for you --- and all my life I have dreamed of meeting this love”………
One of the main reasons the original pilgrims walked to Santiago de Compostela, was to obtain indulgences from the church -- to shorten their time in purgatory after their death and on their way to eternal life. This started in 1189 when Pope Alexander III declared Santiago de Compostela a Holy City, along with Jerusalem and Rome. According to his edit the pilgrims who made the pilgrimage and reached Santiago, were assured of having halved their time in purgatory and those who accomplished it in a Holy Year, could actually bypass purgatory altogether. I am dreading arriving at a refuge late in the afternoon, just before the sunset, when my legs will no more, and my feet are crying out for a rest, cold and wet and tired, and finding only one other person in the dormitory of the refuge and it turns out to be a gusher. Surely that would count for at least ten years reprieve from Purgatory -- or would that in fact be an early dress rehearsal for Purgatory itself? I have to admit I would rather not find out!
I realise that to have a book published in a market that is so saturated with books and publications, I might have to either sell my soul and devise some gimmick that will let the book stand out in a sea of clones, or I will have to stumble across a brilliant angle that no one has noticed before.
Many thousands have done the pilgrimage and continue to do it every year. Over the years the numbers grow exponentially and at a rampant rate. I would need to confirm the numbers, but they are phenomenal. From about 7 000 in the beginning of the 90's, the figures have shot off the page, and by 2007 they exceeded 25 000 people who had walked the last 100km of the pilgrimage. (One only has to complete the last 100km to Santiago de Compostela in order to be acknowledged as having 'done it'! Not nearly as many as that walk the entire 'official' Camino, namely from Saint Jean-Pied-du-Port). These days more people complete the pilgrimage on bicycle than on foot. Then there are the Harley pilgrims, the grey nomads in their camper vans and the gap year youngsters with their i-pods plugged in and thumbs tapping a running commentary on their mobile phones every step of the way, the Japanese tourists who follow the little yellow flag of their guide and the Americans with their support teams racing ahead to prepare the meals and the beds, the English who come across the channel in ferries and the Belgians who race down the highways from the grey low skies of the north. They come from every corner of the world to walk the Way of St James. Every religion, every faith, every colour and every language – and just about one in every ten, it seems, goes back home and writes a book or a website or a blog on their own personal pilgrimage.
I never thought about that when I listened to my heart telling me the time was right to finally take the road this year and more particularly, right now. I did not think twice about the time of year in which I am going to do the walk – but had I thought about it, I would have most certainly chosen exactly the same date that I have – 11 February -- even after reading all the many horror stories about the loneliness, the mist, the wind, the rain, the snow, the cold, the deaths of pilgrims who get lost in the mountains at this time of the year. Perhaps the ‘theme’ for my book -- the theme which will make my book stand out in the plethora of printed Camino stories out there, will come to me in the same way – out of nowhere, from a deep subconscious gut feel, an instinctive notion, a revelation in a vivid dream, a passing remark by a friend – yes, I am ready and waiting -- perhaps that answer will come to me any day now.
On being prepared : The devil is in the detail
……and the train ticket to Saint Jean-Pied-de-Port, my starting block, is booked, bought and paid for. C’est parti
The dye is cast and the numbers read 9 and 2 and the big red cross is noted on my calendar – last night I bought my train ticket to Saint Jean-Pied-de-Port online. It was actually quite a dramatic little moment in the build-up to the pilgrimage to which I am now completed committed. I have bought hundreds of plane and train tickets on the internet over the last twenty years; tickets that took me around the world to destinations that were sometimes exotic, sometimes hum-drum, where journeys of adventure or discovery –or duty and work awaited me, where I thrilled at the anticipation of meeting people, or dreaded the confrontation with those I would rather not have crossed the paths of my life. We don’t even think twice anymore about it: open the website, look for the cheapest (and not necessarily the most convenient!) fare and route, type in our details, our credit card number, note the date on our on-line calendar , and voila! -- we then forget about it until a day or two before the journey when we have to pack and get ready.
So it was interesting for me to find that my fingers actually hovered over the keys before committing to the letters that spelled out the date and time and place of departure and desired destination. I first did it all in my usual rushed, impulsive and haphazard way – continuing on to page two and then page three to fill in the payment details. Then, suddenly, as a stillness, a calmness descended around me, I slowed down and reflected. The mood changed. I felt the gravitas of the moment. I was about to click on the point of no return. Even though I had been training walking for the last two months, even though I have been reading and doing research like I have not done for any project for a very long time, even though I have spent days looking for and buying everything I need for the walk, and a whole day of packing, unpacking, packing and weighing my rucksack, even though my route is planned and my calendar blocked out for the next two months, clicking on the last [i]Suivant[/i]> on the last page of the process in buying a single, one-way, €31,30 train ticket from Bergerac (24) to Saint Jean Pied de Port (64), caused me a full moment of hesitation. It was almost as if the train ticket was the final proof of commitment, the point of no return --- and [i]that[/i] for a second class, two-stop-and-change train ticket, and one that is changeable and refundable to boot![/b]
[quote] BERGERAC - ST JEAN PIED DE PORT 1 passager 31.30 €
Aller : 11h29 - BERGERAC
12h45 - 12h45> 13h14 via BORDEAUX ST JEAN
65749 2e classe Sans réservation
13h14 - BORDEAUX ST JEAN
14h54 - 14h54> 15h06 via BAYONNE
08515 2e classe Non fumeur Place(s) assise(s)
15h06 - BAYONNE
16h19 - 16h19> Null via ST JEAN PIED DE PORT
67335 2e classe Sans réservation
Samedi 09 Février
1e Passager (26 à 59 ans) Tarif normal Billet échangeable et remboursable soumis à conditions.
Loisir Service d'échange et de remboursement gratuit jusqu'à la veille du départ, avec retenue de 10€ le jour du départ, non échangeable et non remboursable après départ.
Voiture 15 - Place 25 Salle basse - Fenêtre - Duo côte à côte
Tarif normal Billet échangeable et remboursable soumis à conditions.
But – it is done --- as I said, the dye is cast. I leave on Saturday 9 February 2008 from Bergerac and arrive in Saint Jean-Pied-de-Port at 4:20 in the afternoon. Because it is so late in the day, I have decided to spend a full day to give myself enough time to look around, drink in the atmosphere, pick up my Pilgrim Passport, and make doubly sure that I am well acquainted with Napoleon’s Route, the way across the Pyrenees which I will be walking, starting Monday 11 February.
The dye is cast and the numbers read 9 and 2 and the big red cross is noted on my calendar – last night I bought my train ticket to Saint Jean-Pied-de-Port online. It was actually quite a dramatic little moment in the build-up to the pilgrimage to which I am now completed committed. I have bought hundreds of plane and train tickets on the internet over the last twenty years; tickets that took me around the world to destinations that were sometimes exotic, sometimes hum-drum, where journeys of adventure or discovery –or duty and work awaited me, where I thrilled at the anticipation of meeting people, or dreaded the confrontation with those I would rather not have crossed the paths of my life. We don’t even think twice anymore about it: open the website, look for the cheapest (and not necessarily the most convenient!) fare and route, type in our details, our credit card number, note the date on our on-line calendar , and voila! -- we then forget about it until a day or two before the journey when we have to pack and get ready.
So it was interesting for me to find that my fingers actually hovered over the keys before committing to the letters that spelled out the date and time and place of departure and desired destination. I first did it all in my usual rushed, impulsive and haphazard way – continuing on to page two and then page three to fill in the payment details. Then, suddenly, as a stillness, a calmness descended around me, I slowed down and reflected. The mood changed. I felt the gravitas of the moment. I was about to click on the point of no return. Even though I had been training walking for the last two months, even though I have been reading and doing research like I have not done for any project for a very long time, even though I have spent days looking for and buying everything I need for the walk, and a whole day of packing, unpacking, packing and weighing my rucksack, even though my route is planned and my calendar blocked out for the next two months, clicking on the last [i]Suivant[/i]> on the last page of the process in buying a single, one-way, €31,30 train ticket from Bergerac (24) to Saint Jean Pied de Port (64), caused me a full moment of hesitation. It was almost as if the train ticket was the final proof of commitment, the point of no return --- and [i]that[/i] for a second class, two-stop-and-change train ticket, and one that is changeable and refundable to boot![/b]
[quote] BERGERAC - ST JEAN PIED DE PORT 1 passager 31.30 €
Aller : 11h29 - BERGERAC
12h45 - 12h45> 13h14 via BORDEAUX ST JEAN
65749 2e classe Sans réservation
13h14 - BORDEAUX ST JEAN
14h54 - 14h54> 15h06 via BAYONNE
08515 2e classe Non fumeur Place(s) assise(s)
15h06 - BAYONNE
16h19 - 16h19> Null via ST JEAN PIED DE PORT
67335 2e classe Sans réservation
Samedi 09 Février
1e Passager (26 à 59 ans) Tarif normal Billet échangeable et remboursable soumis à conditions.
Loisir Service d'échange et de remboursement gratuit jusqu'à la veille du départ, avec retenue de 10€ le jour du départ, non échangeable et non remboursable après départ.
Voiture 15 - Place 25 Salle basse - Fenêtre - Duo côte à côte
Tarif normal Billet échangeable et remboursable soumis à conditions.
[/quote]
But – it is done --- as I said, the dye is cast. I leave on Saturday 9 February 2008 from Bergerac and arrive in Saint Jean-Pied-de-Port at 4:20 in the afternoon. Because it is so late in the day, I have decided to spend a full day to give myself enough time to look around, drink in the atmosphere, pick up my Pilgrim Passport, and make doubly sure that I am well acquainted with Napoleon’s Route, the way across the Pyrenees which I will be walking, starting Monday 11 February.
A Camino thought
"Once we experience and feel this inter-dependence of all living beings,
we will cease to hurt, humiliate, exploit and kill another. We will want
to free all sentient beings from suffering. This is karuna, compassion,
which in turn gives rise to the responsibility to create happiness and
its causes for all."
Suresh Jindal; Interdependence of All Living Beings; The Times of India
(New Delhi); Nov 13, 2003.
karuna = compassion --- from the Sanskrit
we will cease to hurt, humiliate, exploit and kill another. We will want
to free all sentient beings from suffering. This is karuna, compassion,
which in turn gives rise to the responsibility to create happiness and
its causes for all."
Suresh Jindal; Interdependence of All Living Beings; The Times of India
(New Delhi); Nov 13, 2003.
karuna = compassion --- from the Sanskrit
Hola! from Cezur Menor
- having survived the Pyrenees crossing and walked into Spain!
- Just a very quick note to say after three days of walking for between 9 and 11 hours over rocks, through forests, over mountains, through mud, over more rocks, over more mountains, and more rocks, uphill and down hill, and over more mountains, and moire rocks, starting at 7-8 in the morning and watching the sun come up over the mountains and finishing in a little refuge with bunk bed which I share with the only four other people on the entire camino at the moment '' a lovely young 24 year old German boy who is doing it for the third time, a lovely young Japanese boy doing it for the first time, and two women from East Germany --- twin sisters --- --- well, what was East Germany --- let´s not split hairs here --- communist and tough and hoping to have a life changing experience and to be baptised at the end if it (the camino, not the life changing experience --- or is that the other way round?) ----- my body is sore --- as to be expected, my feet are very sore --- as to be expected , I am in Cizur Menor -- not too far past Pamplona '' but far enough to have almost broken the camel´s back (that´s mine, i.e.) but it is the most amazing experience --- and I mean THE MOST amazing experience. getting to the refuge tonight I walked in to find the boys had made a delicious meal of pasta and mince and onions and garlic and a huge bowl of mixed salad and they had left just one (big) portion of everything "in case Wilna arrives tonight"!!!---- it was just beautiful --- and I almost cried . I often almost cry on this walk -- and often do --- and I shall tell all about it when I am back.
-
- Buen Camino my friend!
- Just a very quick note to say after three days of walking for between 9 and 11 hours over rocks, through forests, over mountains, through mud, over more rocks, over more mountains, and more rocks, uphill and down hill, and over more mountains, and moire rocks, starting at 7-8 in the morning and watching the sun come up over the mountains and finishing in a little refuge with bunk bed which I share with the only four other people on the entire camino at the moment '' a lovely young 24 year old German boy who is doing it for the third time, a lovely young Japanese boy doing it for the first time, and two women from East Germany --- twin sisters --- --- well, what was East Germany --- let´s not split hairs here --- communist and tough and hoping to have a life changing experience and to be baptised at the end if it (the camino, not the life changing experience --- or is that the other way round?) ----- my body is sore --- as to be expected, my feet are very sore --- as to be expected , I am in Cizur Menor -- not too far past Pamplona '' but far enough to have almost broken the camel´s back (that´s mine, i.e.) but it is the most amazing experience --- and I mean THE MOST amazing experience. getting to the refuge tonight I walked in to find the boys had made a delicious meal of pasta and mince and onions and garlic and a huge bowl of mixed salad and they had left just one (big) portion of everything "in case Wilna arrives tonight"!!!---- it was just beautiful --- and I almost cried . I often almost cry on this walk -- and often do --- and I shall tell all about it when I am back.
-
- Buen Camino my friend!
a few days on.... and still smiling
wish I had more opportunity energy so that when I do get to internet --- few and far between -- I can write a little more as to what an incredible experience this is. --- just simply amazing
Coming down with a cold I think ''' hot and cold shivers all day. Will have an early night (although all nights are early nights!!) and take few disprin and hopefully feel good again tomorrow.
Funny how aching bones and feet and muscles and everything short of collapse makes a bad shivering cold seem not quite that major!!
Everything becomes relative here!
In Estella tonight ---- and let me assure you there are some huge hills still ahead!! Just because they are not snow capped mountains, does not make then easuer. Today looked easy but the climbs were some of the hardest!
Over 100km!!!
only 700 kilometers to go!
wow! '''
thanks for the bit of news '' so enjoy reading what is happening!
Coming down with a cold I think ''' hot and cold shivers all day. Will have an early night (although all nights are early nights!!) and take few disprin and hopefully feel good again tomorrow.
Funny how aching bones and feet and muscles and everything short of collapse makes a bad shivering cold seem not quite that major!!
Everything becomes relative here!
In Estella tonight ---- and let me assure you there are some huge hills still ahead!! Just because they are not snow capped mountains, does not make then easuer. Today looked easy but the climbs were some of the hardest!
Over 100km!!!
only 700 kilometers to go!
wow! '''
thanks for the bit of news '' so enjoy reading what is happening!
A short note to home
another day and another wonderful experience.
I slept in Los Arcos last night and meant to sleep in Viana tonight --- about 22km -- and then only 11 tomorrow to Lagrouna (??? is that where I am -- not sure! -- something like that! tired brain!!) but then the refuge in Viana which is supposed to be open all year, was closed -- so I had to push on and do the rest -- so 32 kilometers today --- a tough one!
I had meant to rest every four or five days for a day but somehow it doesn´t work like that --- one is so tired in the evening when you stop that all you want to do is sleep -- but in the morning you wake up and get dressed and put your ruck sack on and get going --- some kind of momentum and rhythm that you cannot easily break. And like tonight I did ask the old monks who run the refuge whether I could stay two nights and have a rest day tomorrow, but they asked if it is for medical reasons and I said no, so they said, no you have to go on. Walk the camino!
So --- I think I might book into a hotel somewhere tomorrow night -- otherwise I am afraid -- and I never thought I would say this! -- I will be one day ahead of the others and that would be very sad. But I shall see --- somewhere we would have parted ways anyway by a day or two --- it is just so nice knowing they are either ahead or behind and one is not totally alone. Also, there are more and more other pilgrims now on the road --- coming from other directions, other routes --- southern spain, northern spain, and people starting much further along the way and I must say I have been so spoilt with the company up to now -- we feel like a little family when we all arrive at different times at the refuges -- it has been very special -- and I have not seen any other pilgrim that I feel I want to get to know better...
Anyway --- you asked what does one do when you arrive of an evening --- well, you take your ruck sack off first of all!!!, you then pay your €3 or 4 or 5 or 6 for the night and get your stamp in your pilgrims passport. You are then taken to the dormitory and shown your bed for the night --- or if you are lucky and come first, you can choose your own. I pick the bottom bunk always --- definitely no energy to get on the top bunk! -- and one reasonably near a heater --- if there is a heater in the dorm!
Then I take my shoes off (and put them outside the dorm if possible!) and socks and rub my feet --- aching feet--- unload my moneybag and camera around my waist, take stuff out of pockets like phones and maps and notebook (my camera´s card --- TWO gigabytes!! was full today!!! AAAAAARRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!! Cannot take pics and won´t get to a place where to download on cd for another several days!!!!!!!!!!!!) and then head for the showers and if possible and no one objects I stand under the hot water (so far hot water everywhere) for at least half an hour! wonderful! I then wash all the clothes I wore for the day and either go hang them over an available heater of if lucky, put them in a coin operated dryer --- I only have one change of underwear so if I want to change every day, I wash every day --- I am totally drenched by the first hour and all day --- not a very good state of affairs --- but it is around 0´´C in the mornings and evenings, and does not go much higher than about 10 during the day -- and the wind blowing a lot of time is straight off the arctic.
Then it is quickly out to look for a food shop for something for dinner and also (something that weighs nothing!) for the following day for breakfast and for along the way, back to the refuge, make something to eat, chat a little and go to bed and sleep! In bed most nights around nine -- and fast asleep straight away.
so that for the pva every night --- and now must go -- [b]another time more about how this is THE way to keep the spirit alive, my sweetest Pierre!
Better go and take my clothes out the dryer --- and off to bed. Thanks for the little texts and messages and calls --- much much appreciated. Marc -- sent you a text today -- just check on all your phones in case I did not send it to the right phone!
Lots and lots of love
ww xx
buen camino!
I slept in Los Arcos last night and meant to sleep in Viana tonight --- about 22km -- and then only 11 tomorrow to Lagrouna (??? is that where I am -- not sure! -- something like that! tired brain!!) but then the refuge in Viana which is supposed to be open all year, was closed -- so I had to push on and do the rest -- so 32 kilometers today --- a tough one!
I had meant to rest every four or five days for a day but somehow it doesn´t work like that --- one is so tired in the evening when you stop that all you want to do is sleep -- but in the morning you wake up and get dressed and put your ruck sack on and get going --- some kind of momentum and rhythm that you cannot easily break. And like tonight I did ask the old monks who run the refuge whether I could stay two nights and have a rest day tomorrow, but they asked if it is for medical reasons and I said no, so they said, no you have to go on. Walk the camino!
So --- I think I might book into a hotel somewhere tomorrow night -- otherwise I am afraid -- and I never thought I would say this! -- I will be one day ahead of the others and that would be very sad. But I shall see --- somewhere we would have parted ways anyway by a day or two --- it is just so nice knowing they are either ahead or behind and one is not totally alone. Also, there are more and more other pilgrims now on the road --- coming from other directions, other routes --- southern spain, northern spain, and people starting much further along the way and I must say I have been so spoilt with the company up to now -- we feel like a little family when we all arrive at different times at the refuges -- it has been very special -- and I have not seen any other pilgrim that I feel I want to get to know better...
Anyway --- you asked what does one do when you arrive of an evening --- well, you take your ruck sack off first of all!!!, you then pay your €3 or 4 or 5 or 6 for the night and get your stamp in your pilgrims passport. You are then taken to the dormitory and shown your bed for the night --- or if you are lucky and come first, you can choose your own. I pick the bottom bunk always --- definitely no energy to get on the top bunk! -- and one reasonably near a heater --- if there is a heater in the dorm!
Then I take my shoes off (and put them outside the dorm if possible!) and socks and rub my feet --- aching feet--- unload my moneybag and camera around my waist, take stuff out of pockets like phones and maps and notebook (my camera´s card --- TWO gigabytes!! was full today!!! AAAAAARRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!! Cannot take pics and won´t get to a place where to download on cd for another several days!!!!!!!!!!!!) and then head for the showers and if possible and no one objects I stand under the hot water (so far hot water everywhere) for at least half an hour! wonderful! I then wash all the clothes I wore for the day and either go hang them over an available heater of if lucky, put them in a coin operated dryer --- I only have one change of underwear so if I want to change every day, I wash every day --- I am totally drenched by the first hour and all day --- not a very good state of affairs --- but it is around 0´´C in the mornings and evenings, and does not go much higher than about 10 during the day -- and the wind blowing a lot of time is straight off the arctic.
Then it is quickly out to look for a food shop for something for dinner and also (something that weighs nothing!) for the following day for breakfast and for along the way, back to the refuge, make something to eat, chat a little and go to bed and sleep! In bed most nights around nine -- and fast asleep straight away.
so that for the pva every night --- and now must go -- [b]another time more about how this is THE way to keep the spirit alive, my sweetest Pierre!
Better go and take my clothes out the dryer --- and off to bed. Thanks for the little texts and messages and calls --- much much appreciated. Marc -- sent you a text today -- just check on all your phones in case I did not send it to the right phone!
Lots and lots of love
ww xx
buen camino!
A note to my two fellow pilgrims
Dear Akira-san and Son of Thor ---
problemo!!
I am in Logrono --- as the refuge in Vania was closed and I could not find anyone who could open it --- I tried calling and spoke to different people who all tried, but we could not get the man. The hotel -- very smart hotel! --- offered me a room for 167 for the night for the five of us --- as I knew Marina and Kamil and Barbara and Loanna (I met them on the road this morning --- they also slept in Los Arcos last night!!) were somewhere behind me --- but I could not commit as I did not know if they would afford so much. So all I could do was continue --- another almost three hours --- the last bit into Logrono is very long!!
Now -- the refuge here is very nice --- excellent. BUT they will not let me stay a second night and I had promised you food for tomorrow night --- so I am going to cook something and leave it in the fridge for you guys for tomorrow night --- so p`lease do come to the refuge tomorrow (Sunday) and get the food out of the fridge and warm it up for you --- and I hope you enjoy!
You will just have to get a loaf of bread to have with it --- and fry eggs to eat with it ---the little shop is across the road --- not sure whether it will be open as it is Sunday-- hopè so!
I shall not go far tomorrow --- really need a rest for a half day at least! ---- so I am sure you guys will catch up with me again --- I hope so!!
lots of love
and Buen Camino ---
Wilna
problemo!!
I am in Logrono --- as the refuge in Vania was closed and I could not find anyone who could open it --- I tried calling and spoke to different people who all tried, but we could not get the man. The hotel -- very smart hotel! --- offered me a room for 167 for the night for the five of us --- as I knew Marina and Kamil and Barbara and Loanna (I met them on the road this morning --- they also slept in Los Arcos last night!!) were somewhere behind me --- but I could not commit as I did not know if they would afford so much. So all I could do was continue --- another almost three hours --- the last bit into Logrono is very long!!
Now -- the refuge here is very nice --- excellent. BUT they will not let me stay a second night and I had promised you food for tomorrow night --- so I am going to cook something and leave it in the fridge for you guys for tomorrow night --- so p`lease do come to the refuge tomorrow (Sunday) and get the food out of the fridge and warm it up for you --- and I hope you enjoy!
You will just have to get a loaf of bread to have with it --- and fry eggs to eat with it ---the little shop is across the road --- not sure whether it will be open as it is Sunday-- hopè so!
I shall not go far tomorrow --- really need a rest for a half day at least! ---- so I am sure you guys will catch up with me again --- I hope so!!
lots of love
and Buen Camino ---
Wilna
Ten days done
Today was a beautiful walk -- gently and easy and so amazing in the thick mist -- could sometimes not see too far --- quite wonderful to walk inside a cloud!
But my right leg became so painful that I just wanted to sit down. Tried to stop in one of the villages but they were renovating and would not let me stay. So I sat outside and cried a little bit and then picked myself up again and walked to that little place that does not have a name.
There the people -- real "new age" people with incense and whale song music -- like something out of the hippy 60's -- they let me in and let me take a bed to sleep for an hour and offered me lunch of fabulous thick lentil soup with sausage bits in, and a chair by the fire --- absolutely fantastic!
So after a few hours I decided to go on --- discovered my neurofen tablets in my bag -- enough to knock you out -- and walked without too much pain to Belorado --- the man here, Juan, at Cuatro something is wonderful --- and hey! there is a man here at the refugio tonight who started on 1 November 2007 and has walked the Northern camino, then the Portuguese camino and now the Franceses backwards - on his way back home to the Czech republic!! How amazing is that! --- wish we could understand each other!
I may rest a bit tomorrow --- really donñ´t want to but if my leg does not get better I will be in trouble. Damn old body!!!!
I saw Marina today but no idea where she ended up tonight --- she was going to Belorado but is not here. Also saw Barabara and Loanna --- they are in Belorado tonight but probably in a hotel. The two Spanish boys are here tonight -- David and Tonio, and also the Finnish boy Markus.
lots of love and buen camino until I see you all again!
But my right leg became so painful that I just wanted to sit down. Tried to stop in one of the villages but they were renovating and would not let me stay. So I sat outside and cried a little bit and then picked myself up again and walked to that little place that does not have a name.
There the people -- real "new age" people with incense and whale song music -- like something out of the hippy 60's -- they let me in and let me take a bed to sleep for an hour and offered me lunch of fabulous thick lentil soup with sausage bits in, and a chair by the fire --- absolutely fantastic!
So after a few hours I decided to go on --- discovered my neurofen tablets in my bag -- enough to knock you out -- and walked without too much pain to Belorado --- the man here, Juan, at Cuatro something is wonderful --- and hey! there is a man here at the refugio tonight who started on 1 November 2007 and has walked the Northern camino, then the Portuguese camino and now the Franceses backwards - on his way back home to the Czech republic!! How amazing is that! --- wish we could understand each other!
I may rest a bit tomorrow --- really donñ´t want to but if my leg does not get better I will be in trouble. Damn old body!!!!
I saw Marina today but no idea where she ended up tonight --- she was going to Belorado but is not here. Also saw Barabara and Loanna --- they are in Belorado tonight but probably in a hotel. The two Spanish boys are here tonight -- David and Tonio, and also the Finnish boy Markus.
lots of love and buen camino until I see you all again!
Disaster strikes in Belorado
Oh well --- one of those things that happens --
two days ago -- on that horrible stony (more stony than normal -- if that is possible ?? -- why does NO ONE write anywhere about the stones? Here everyone agrees that is the hardest thing about the camino ----- but on that day made worse because of the gale force winds off the snow capped mountains that bump you all over the show) I got shin splints in my right leg -- not at the top under the knee, but at the bottom end of the tibia where all the calf muscles --- yes!! I actually do have those! and we never knew, did we? -- come together and are attached to the bone -- well, those tendons have started tearing loose from the bone and inflammation set in and the pain -- well, I challenge any pilgrim to tell me there can be worse! ---
I think I mentioned yesterday? that I passed -- or should I say limped past a most amazing man -- Valero -- from Italy -- he started in St Jean Pied de Port FIVE days ago!! and is already here -- he walks between 40 and 50 kilometers a day -- incredible! and he walks in sandals! no socks -- just sandals. I commented on this and he said only the first three days were bad, but his blisters are OK now -- his heels look like something out of a horror picture, but as I have young and sensitive readers of this message, I will not go into details -- and he said to me "at least I have not had tendinitis -- that is far worse!" Perhaps he was just kind -- but then, having the problem, I think perhaps not.
Anyway, went to the doctor this morning --- wonderful medical service wherever you go -- for free if you are a pilgrim -- and she shook her head, prescirbed anti-inflammatories and pain killers and a special elastic thingy to go around my leg and said three to four days rest. Must be kidding. I will go dotty (I know -- no comments from the peanut gallery, please.....)
Thank goodness --- or St Iago -- or both -- I happen to have found a fantastic refuge last night where Juan is totally happy for me to stay as long as it takes. (most refuges will not let you stay unless the doctor confirms that if you continue you will die along the way in the next four hours and a cart will have to come fetch you and take you to the morgue and the hospilalero will have to fill out a thousand forms for the Spanish bureaucracy because he was the last to see you alive).
Yesterday, when I limped badly -- leaning very heavily on my two sticks, John and Jill (first day out for Jill -- as madam does not get up early, and on this trip you have to, so she has been riding comfortably on my back all this way, while John has been doing all the hard work of pushing and balancing and keeping company... --- thanks guys, the bestest gift those turned out to be!)) I tried at the first village to get a bit of rest and sympathy in a refuge and they would not let me in as they were renovating --- an occupational hazard in winter on the pilgrim's´s route -- and the next village had no refuge and the third, 12 kilometers further up the hill, had one --- a wonderfully weird hippy new age kind of place where the incense smelt suspicioully like kif and the warmth came from two a huge iron stoves in the corner, and they warmly welcomed me in and let me sleep for a couple of hours, then offered me a steaming bowl of lentils and wine and were quite upset when I said I felt better and could keep going for another few hours.
So here I am --- all the others have left --- Markus the Finnish boy, the two Spanish boys who admonished me to stay as long as possible as the one, David had tendinitis on the third day and they had to stop for five days before he could walk again --- and a young Japànese watch maker from Tokyo - Tashi - and this incredible guy Rene from the Czech republic -- who has walked the camino from Le Puy to Santiago along the northern route, then down -- in reverse to Seville, then across to Portugal and up the Portuguese camino and now the Franceses camino -- in reverse--- back to the Czech republic. He is 34 --- walks in just normal clothes and normal trainers -- albeit his fifth pair -- but fabulous guy. (He was in the bunk next to mine last night and hardly snores -- so extra brownie points for that!!) --- have I written about the snoring? Next time --- I am contemplating writing a symphony using the snores of pilgrims on the camino!!
Last night the hospilalero Juan -- a former chef -- made us all a feast --- chicken soup, white beans and tripe (Terence, you have not tasted tripe until you taste the tripe in this region!), pork chops, fried eggs kindly donated by a dozen chickens in the back garden,, big potatoes cooked in their skins and served with a vinegar and oil and herb dressing, chicken pieces in a wonderful sauce (not the same chickens) , fruit salad and of course wine --- the best la Rioja (Marc and Sacha --- you will HAVE to come and see where your favourtie wine comes from!)-- the area through which I have been walking these last four days and am now leaving. Fabulous!
Tonight Juan and I are going to work together to prepare the meal for the pilgrims that arrive today --- as long as he does not ask me to kill one of the cute little Flopsy´s or Mopsy´s -- or even the mentioned Henny Penny in the back garden for the pot -- I am hoping Thorsten and Akira and Kamil will pitch up today -- they were behind me because of Thorsten´s knee and Akira´s leg -- it would be great to see them again!
So -- I have just been asked will I go back to France?
Go back to France? -- just because this silly ageing body of mine cannot keep up with my young agile mind (lol)???
NO! I suppose it is difficult for anyone who has not done this pilgrimage to understand what it does to you --
but there is no way one stops -- I shall wait the one or two or even three days required to get my leg stand-on-able again and I shall continue on the way --- fortunately I have calculated stop and rest days in my plan --- and I am still on track even if I stop for three days here -- which I hope will not be the case. I have seen now that unless there is something seriously stopping you from walking, one does not stop just for fun or sightseeing --- just does not work that way. So the day's rest I had planned turned out to be a good thing for such emergencies such as this one. But as as soon as I can, I continue on the Road under the stars.
This is just the most amazing experience --- I know I say that every day -- but it continues to be the most wonderful thing I have done -- and I so wish you could all experience what I do every day as well --- even just one day of it is enough to change your life.
And before I go --- thank you thank you thank you all for the emails and text messages every day --- it is really great to wake up and find all these encouraging messages! Terrie --- yours are very special -- every morning first thing! you are amazing! Thank you my friend!
I don´t have my phone on ring so I don´t know when calls or messages come in -- when you walk the last thing you want is a ringing phone, and when you get to the refuge at night, ringing phones are enough to be thrown out on the street! But I have my phone with me all the way and do not always feel the vibration in my pocket -- but I get the messages and appreciate them so much. It is sometimes hard to remember there is a world out there somewhere -- other than the contrails of the planes on the clear days and the occasional times when the way goes close to big routes, but I carry my loved ones in my pocket with me all the way.
Buen Camino my friends -- hamba kahle
two days ago -- on that horrible stony (more stony than normal -- if that is possible ?? -- why does NO ONE write anywhere about the stones? Here everyone agrees that is the hardest thing about the camino ----- but on that day made worse because of the gale force winds off the snow capped mountains that bump you all over the show) I got shin splints in my right leg -- not at the top under the knee, but at the bottom end of the tibia where all the calf muscles --- yes!! I actually do have those! and we never knew, did we? -- come together and are attached to the bone -- well, those tendons have started tearing loose from the bone and inflammation set in and the pain -- well, I challenge any pilgrim to tell me there can be worse! ---
I think I mentioned yesterday? that I passed -- or should I say limped past a most amazing man -- Valero -- from Italy -- he started in St Jean Pied de Port FIVE days ago!! and is already here -- he walks between 40 and 50 kilometers a day -- incredible! and he walks in sandals! no socks -- just sandals. I commented on this and he said only the first three days were bad, but his blisters are OK now -- his heels look like something out of a horror picture, but as I have young and sensitive readers of this message, I will not go into details -- and he said to me "at least I have not had tendinitis -- that is far worse!" Perhaps he was just kind -- but then, having the problem, I think perhaps not.
Anyway, went to the doctor this morning --- wonderful medical service wherever you go -- for free if you are a pilgrim -- and she shook her head, prescirbed anti-inflammatories and pain killers and a special elastic thingy to go around my leg and said three to four days rest. Must be kidding. I will go dotty (I know -- no comments from the peanut gallery, please.....)
Thank goodness --- or St Iago -- or both -- I happen to have found a fantastic refuge last night where Juan is totally happy for me to stay as long as it takes. (most refuges will not let you stay unless the doctor confirms that if you continue you will die along the way in the next four hours and a cart will have to come fetch you and take you to the morgue and the hospilalero will have to fill out a thousand forms for the Spanish bureaucracy because he was the last to see you alive).
Yesterday, when I limped badly -- leaning very heavily on my two sticks, John and Jill (first day out for Jill -- as madam does not get up early, and on this trip you have to, so she has been riding comfortably on my back all this way, while John has been doing all the hard work of pushing and balancing and keeping company... --- thanks guys, the bestest gift those turned out to be!)) I tried at the first village to get a bit of rest and sympathy in a refuge and they would not let me in as they were renovating --- an occupational hazard in winter on the pilgrim's´s route -- and the next village had no refuge and the third, 12 kilometers further up the hill, had one --- a wonderfully weird hippy new age kind of place where the incense smelt suspicioully like kif and the warmth came from two a huge iron stoves in the corner, and they warmly welcomed me in and let me sleep for a couple of hours, then offered me a steaming bowl of lentils and wine and were quite upset when I said I felt better and could keep going for another few hours.
So here I am --- all the others have left --- Markus the Finnish boy, the two Spanish boys who admonished me to stay as long as possible as the one, David had tendinitis on the third day and they had to stop for five days before he could walk again --- and a young Japànese watch maker from Tokyo - Tashi - and this incredible guy Rene from the Czech republic -- who has walked the camino from Le Puy to Santiago along the northern route, then down -- in reverse to Seville, then across to Portugal and up the Portuguese camino and now the Franceses camino -- in reverse--- back to the Czech republic. He is 34 --- walks in just normal clothes and normal trainers -- albeit his fifth pair -- but fabulous guy. (He was in the bunk next to mine last night and hardly snores -- so extra brownie points for that!!) --- have I written about the snoring? Next time --- I am contemplating writing a symphony using the snores of pilgrims on the camino!!
Last night the hospilalero Juan -- a former chef -- made us all a feast --- chicken soup, white beans and tripe (Terence, you have not tasted tripe until you taste the tripe in this region!), pork chops, fried eggs kindly donated by a dozen chickens in the back garden,, big potatoes cooked in their skins and served with a vinegar and oil and herb dressing, chicken pieces in a wonderful sauce (not the same chickens) , fruit salad and of course wine --- the best la Rioja (Marc and Sacha --- you will HAVE to come and see where your favourtie wine comes from!)-- the area through which I have been walking these last four days and am now leaving. Fabulous!
Tonight Juan and I are going to work together to prepare the meal for the pilgrims that arrive today --- as long as he does not ask me to kill one of the cute little Flopsy´s or Mopsy´s -- or even the mentioned Henny Penny in the back garden for the pot -- I am hoping Thorsten and Akira and Kamil will pitch up today -- they were behind me because of Thorsten´s knee and Akira´s leg -- it would be great to see them again!
So -- I have just been asked will I go back to France?
Go back to France? -- just because this silly ageing body of mine cannot keep up with my young agile mind (lol)???
NO! I suppose it is difficult for anyone who has not done this pilgrimage to understand what it does to you --
but there is no way one stops -- I shall wait the one or two or even three days required to get my leg stand-on-able again and I shall continue on the way --- fortunately I have calculated stop and rest days in my plan --- and I am still on track even if I stop for three days here -- which I hope will not be the case. I have seen now that unless there is something seriously stopping you from walking, one does not stop just for fun or sightseeing --- just does not work that way. So the day's rest I had planned turned out to be a good thing for such emergencies such as this one. But as as soon as I can, I continue on the Road under the stars.
This is just the most amazing experience --- I know I say that every day -- but it continues to be the most wonderful thing I have done -- and I so wish you could all experience what I do every day as well --- even just one day of it is enough to change your life.
And before I go --- thank you thank you thank you all for the emails and text messages every day --- it is really great to wake up and find all these encouraging messages! Terrie --- yours are very special -- every morning first thing! you are amazing! Thank you my friend!
I don´t have my phone on ring so I don´t know when calls or messages come in -- when you walk the last thing you want is a ringing phone, and when you get to the refuge at night, ringing phones are enough to be thrown out on the street! But I have my phone with me all the way and do not always feel the vibration in my pocket -- but I get the messages and appreciate them so much. It is sometimes hard to remember there is a world out there somewhere -- other than the contrails of the planes on the clear days and the occasional times when the way goes close to big routes, but I carry my loved ones in my pocket with me all the way.
Buen Camino my friends -- hamba kahle
A note from Terrie ---- the reason I continue to walk ---
When I was at the tennis recently there was a young man with the following words on his T shirt " death is not an option". I commented to my sister that I would like a T shirt with that message on it.
Well, my friends, it's good news. Today I went to see the oncologist who had the results of my recent CT scan and blood tests. He was able to show me the scan on his computer screen. It shows that all the tumours have either disappeared or are dead (it's an OK option for those little suckers!) How about that!
When I commented that that might mean he was out of a job, he cautioned me not to be so hasty. Yes, they are gone after three months of chemotherapy treatment, but he recommends that I stay on chemotherapy for another nine months. He says that research shows that patients on treatment live longer than those who are not, and that we should remember the saying "when you're on a good thing, stick to it". That was a Mortein ad, wasn't it? Anyway the 'living longer' argument certainly has some appeal, so I agreed to continue on the chemo for another 9 months.
He has taken me off one of the three chemo drugs that I have been on - the one that destroyed my platelets. So hopefully the platelet count will increase and I won't have to keep eating black pudding! Actually, to be truthful, I stopped a while ago. It was too much - eating it every single day.
So, it's back to the chemo regime tomorrow morning, bright and early at 8am. It hasn't stopped me going to Melbourne to the tennis, or body surfing at Wollongong City Beach and beating my brother-in-law to the sand on a couple of waves! So, I guess I can live with it for a while. Periodical scans will keep an eye on things and if it's still all clear after 9 months then I guess I can have a break.
Thank you all for reading my news and for the support you always provide for me. I believe my excellent results are a combination of many elements, not the least being the magnificent support, encouragement and friendship I get from you all.
I'll talk to you all again soon.
Well, my friends, it's good news. Today I went to see the oncologist who had the results of my recent CT scan and blood tests. He was able to show me the scan on his computer screen. It shows that all the tumours have either disappeared or are dead (it's an OK option for those little suckers!) How about that!
When I commented that that might mean he was out of a job, he cautioned me not to be so hasty. Yes, they are gone after three months of chemotherapy treatment, but he recommends that I stay on chemotherapy for another nine months. He says that research shows that patients on treatment live longer than those who are not, and that we should remember the saying "when you're on a good thing, stick to it". That was a Mortein ad, wasn't it? Anyway the 'living longer' argument certainly has some appeal, so I agreed to continue on the chemo for another 9 months.
He has taken me off one of the three chemo drugs that I have been on - the one that destroyed my platelets. So hopefully the platelet count will increase and I won't have to keep eating black pudding! Actually, to be truthful, I stopped a while ago. It was too much - eating it every single day.
So, it's back to the chemo regime tomorrow morning, bright and early at 8am. It hasn't stopped me going to Melbourne to the tennis, or body surfing at Wollongong City Beach and beating my brother-in-law to the sand on a couple of waves! So, I guess I can live with it for a while. Periodical scans will keep an eye on things and if it's still all clear after 9 months then I guess I can have a break.
Thank you all for reading my news and for the support you always provide for me. I believe my excellent results are a combination of many elements, not the least being the magnificent support, encouragement and friendship I get from you all.
I'll talk to you all again soon.
A note from Sacha
“When you travel, you experience, in a very practical way, the act of rebirth. You confront completely new situations, the day passes more slowly, and on most journeys you don’t even understand the language the people speak. So you are like a child just out of the womb. You begin to attach much more importance to the things around you because your survival depends upon them. You begin to be more accessible to others because they may be able to help you in difficult situations. And you accept any small favour from the gods with great delight, as if it were an episode you would remember for the rest of your life. At the same time, since all things are new, you see only the beauty in them, and you feel happy to be alive… always walk forward, adapting oneself to new situations and receiving in return all of the thousands of blessings that life generously offers to those who seek them.” – Paulo Coelho
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Thanks Wilna for all your email updates and information - can't wait to hear all about it in person. Wishing you all the best and that your experiences continue to be more than you could hope for.
Happy & Safe travelling
Sacha xxx
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Thanks Wilna for all your email updates and information - can't wait to hear all about it in person. Wishing you all the best and that your experiences continue to be more than you could hope for.
Happy & Safe travelling
Sacha xxx
A quick update in a pistachio shell
I find myself in Caldizilla de la cuerna (or something!) and although one of the smallest hamlets yet, here is internet! But very basic --- I suspect there is a little boy behind the wall blowing on the coals to keep them going to provide the steam to generate the power to work this very archaic piece of equipment --- except one never sees little boys --- or little girls -- no children in this country -- no idea where they are.
In fact no idea where the people are --- I continue to walk through one village after the next that looks like an abandoned set on the Universal studios plot -- ghost towns all of them. Very eerie. Far off in the distance one sees big trucks on the highways and occasionally one hears a train somewhere in the distance (no -- to be honest, I have only heard a train twice -- or is that two trains?) but no people! Just in the big city such as Burgos were there lots of people --- lots of traffic and smells and noise as well, and hard to stay calm! One forgets very quickly what it is like to live in a word full of people.
Today was another exquisite experience -- walking the last more than 18 kilometers on a relatively straight and almost flat path (very stony! everywhere very stony! Impossibly and agonisingly stony!) across a landscape so beautiful it takes your breath away. The skies -- which have been pouring buckets on me these past few days, were alive with blue grey white charcoal clouds in magnificent formations and every now and then a bright spot light of sun breaks through making the green fields and red clay mud and and almost black trees that dot the horizon such vivid and intense colours that you have to stop and look and look again.
(This part is a plateau and because of its flatness, the guidebooks warn that you might get bored. Bored? I shake my head at such a thought -- and wonder about mankind........ but this is an update, not a dissertation, so mum's the word......for now)
Such bliss this morning being able to stop and sit down and take the back pack off for a little while and enjoy my feast of sausage and bread and fruit --- I found these last few days with all the constant rain one has to continue and somehow then forgets to stop to eat --- and while I sat there just enjoying the splendour of this incredible countryside, a little cat --- so gorgeous in snow white and tiger stripes and the most captivating yellow eyes came out of nowhere, ´talking´all the way -- all the time --- little happy meows ---- and sat on my leg to be stroked and cuddled. Every now and then she would hop off and go hunt an insect or throw a stone in the air and try to catch it and then come back for more cuddles. It was so special! I have no idea where she came from -- there was nothing for miles and miles --- really nothing -- no farms, houses, no villages --- for 18 kilometers this Way of Aquitaine as it is called is completely bare of human life. Just kilometre after kilometre of newly sewn or newly ploughed wheat fields. When it is was time to get up and put my food away and return the ruck sack to my back, I was worried the little cat would follow me --- not sure what I would have done if she did. But she stayed and sat on the side of the path watching me until we could no longer see each other. I think perhaps she was the soul of another peregrina of another time...
My aches and pains have become part of the daily existence. There but not unbearable. Early morning is the hardest -- if hard it is at all. Until I have warmed up after a few kilometers, the feet hurt, the knees hurt, the back feels the weight of the bag. Then all the hurt disappears as the mist starts to lift and the muscles and joints warm up -- and only late in the day when the body senses a refuge ´s wide open welcoming door close, the feet start complaining again -- not from the walking or the constant bearing of weight mile after mile,. but from the ever-present stones! There must be more stones under foot on this walk than there are stars in the sky. And of course with the rain, one has to look extra carefully where to put your feet on every step -- the soil is such clay -- clinging to the soles of the shoes and making you feel after a little while like you are walking on stilts!
But what amazing things these boots of mine are! Last night, after three days of solid rain, they were so wet they must have weighed about seven kilograms each -- but inside they are as dry as bone -- brilliant! Yesterday was a 45.7 kilometres walk --- the longest yet for one day! --- not by choice, I assure you -- but because there was not a single refuge open. I eventually ended up in a little hostal -- a very basic little hotel --- and had the amazing luxury of a bath!!!!! with hot hot water!!!!! --- after a very very strange experience.
There are so many little anecdotes and myths and legends about the devil appearing to pilgrims and trying to steer them off course (or some such wicked things) --- well, my friends, I saw him last night. From far far away I saw this strange sight -- a man standing in the middle of the road which was running alongside the pilgrim´s path. He seemed not to move even when cars came past -- just stood there holding an umbrella. I thought it must be a mirage --- too many kilometers in one day -- I had been walking almost 11 hours and was obviously hallucinating. But when I got closer I saw that it was in fact a man -- smartly dressed with black trousers and black leather shoes, a white shirt and tie and what looked like an expensive raincoat. He was holding an umbrella over his head, but --- regardless of the cars passing at speed and him having stood in the middle of the road, his clothes seemed incredibly dry! A big bald head with longish hair curling over the back of his raincoat, a big nose -- he really did look like a good model for a stone gargoyle... When I came close to him, he walked across the road towards me and fell in step with me on the pilgrim's´way --- stones (have a mentioned the stones???!!) and mud and all -- and him in his smart black leather shoes. He asked me where I had walked from and when I told him he would not believe me that I had walked so far. He then said there is no refuge open in the next village --- about another kilometer or so. I said I know there is a refuge open --- one has to get the key from the bar across the square. He said no -- I will have to come and stay in his house. Now this is of course all in Spanish and I am afraid that my Spanish is not even ten words better than it was when I started this journey... I said no thank you I will stay in the refuge. He got angry and said the refuge is closed and if I pay him (much rubbing of fingers and mention of dinero´s) I can stay in his house. I said again no thank you. He then returned to the more comfortable tarmac of the road and started walking a little faster than me. When I arrived wet and tired at the bar across the square about half hour later, guess who was standing at the bar, drinking a glass of wine, but the gargoyle man himself. I went up top the bar owner and asked for the refuge key and he said no, refuge closed. I said it has to be opened upon request but he shouted at me and told me to go to the next town )another ten kilometers) -- there was no room for me in this village. Well --- I could see why a pilgrim would lose their way or renounce their faith or do something silly --- not hard to be tempted to do anything when you have walked 11 hours in the pouring rain and cold and mist and past that many closed refuge doors, but you would be proud of me --- I smiled and turned around and walked to the other side of the town and booked into a hostal --- THE hostal of BATH!! and HOT WATER!! fame!!
Fortunately for me I so love the rain --- and the pitta patta sound of the drops on my poncho provide a wonderful background rhythm to the squelching of my boots in the mud and my stick marking the pace. I am just so grateful that the rain did not come before in the mountainous parts where going up hill and downhill could have become a tricky -- if not hilarious maneouvre!
I have not even started to talk about my epiphanies, or my many moments of tears -- of joy and wonder and awe --- nor have I brought you up to date of my fellow pilgrims ---
there is so much to tell and share -- but for tonight this is all, folks! --- I shall now go wash my clothes and then go look for a little place
Please keep the little text messages and msm´s coming --- they are fantastically encouraging and energising!
Lots of love to you all..................
Keep the spirit alive! And Buen Camino!
In fact no idea where the people are --- I continue to walk through one village after the next that looks like an abandoned set on the Universal studios plot -- ghost towns all of them. Very eerie. Far off in the distance one sees big trucks on the highways and occasionally one hears a train somewhere in the distance (no -- to be honest, I have only heard a train twice -- or is that two trains?) but no people! Just in the big city such as Burgos were there lots of people --- lots of traffic and smells and noise as well, and hard to stay calm! One forgets very quickly what it is like to live in a word full of people.
Today was another exquisite experience -- walking the last more than 18 kilometers on a relatively straight and almost flat path (very stony! everywhere very stony! Impossibly and agonisingly stony!) across a landscape so beautiful it takes your breath away. The skies -- which have been pouring buckets on me these past few days, were alive with blue grey white charcoal clouds in magnificent formations and every now and then a bright spot light of sun breaks through making the green fields and red clay mud and and almost black trees that dot the horizon such vivid and intense colours that you have to stop and look and look again.
(This part is a plateau and because of its flatness, the guidebooks warn that you might get bored. Bored? I shake my head at such a thought -- and wonder about mankind........ but this is an update, not a dissertation, so mum's the word......for now)
Such bliss this morning being able to stop and sit down and take the back pack off for a little while and enjoy my feast of sausage and bread and fruit --- I found these last few days with all the constant rain one has to continue and somehow then forgets to stop to eat --- and while I sat there just enjoying the splendour of this incredible countryside, a little cat --- so gorgeous in snow white and tiger stripes and the most captivating yellow eyes came out of nowhere, ´talking´all the way -- all the time --- little happy meows ---- and sat on my leg to be stroked and cuddled. Every now and then she would hop off and go hunt an insect or throw a stone in the air and try to catch it and then come back for more cuddles. It was so special! I have no idea where she came from -- there was nothing for miles and miles --- really nothing -- no farms, houses, no villages --- for 18 kilometers this Way of Aquitaine as it is called is completely bare of human life. Just kilometre after kilometre of newly sewn or newly ploughed wheat fields. When it is was time to get up and put my food away and return the ruck sack to my back, I was worried the little cat would follow me --- not sure what I would have done if she did. But she stayed and sat on the side of the path watching me until we could no longer see each other. I think perhaps she was the soul of another peregrina of another time...
My aches and pains have become part of the daily existence. There but not unbearable. Early morning is the hardest -- if hard it is at all. Until I have warmed up after a few kilometers, the feet hurt, the knees hurt, the back feels the weight of the bag. Then all the hurt disappears as the mist starts to lift and the muscles and joints warm up -- and only late in the day when the body senses a refuge ´s wide open welcoming door close, the feet start complaining again -- not from the walking or the constant bearing of weight mile after mile,. but from the ever-present stones! There must be more stones under foot on this walk than there are stars in the sky. And of course with the rain, one has to look extra carefully where to put your feet on every step -- the soil is such clay -- clinging to the soles of the shoes and making you feel after a little while like you are walking on stilts!
But what amazing things these boots of mine are! Last night, after three days of solid rain, they were so wet they must have weighed about seven kilograms each -- but inside they are as dry as bone -- brilliant! Yesterday was a 45.7 kilometres walk --- the longest yet for one day! --- not by choice, I assure you -- but because there was not a single refuge open. I eventually ended up in a little hostal -- a very basic little hotel --- and had the amazing luxury of a bath!!!!! with hot hot water!!!!! --- after a very very strange experience.
There are so many little anecdotes and myths and legends about the devil appearing to pilgrims and trying to steer them off course (or some such wicked things) --- well, my friends, I saw him last night. From far far away I saw this strange sight -- a man standing in the middle of the road which was running alongside the pilgrim´s path. He seemed not to move even when cars came past -- just stood there holding an umbrella. I thought it must be a mirage --- too many kilometers in one day -- I had been walking almost 11 hours and was obviously hallucinating. But when I got closer I saw that it was in fact a man -- smartly dressed with black trousers and black leather shoes, a white shirt and tie and what looked like an expensive raincoat. He was holding an umbrella over his head, but --- regardless of the cars passing at speed and him having stood in the middle of the road, his clothes seemed incredibly dry! A big bald head with longish hair curling over the back of his raincoat, a big nose -- he really did look like a good model for a stone gargoyle... When I came close to him, he walked across the road towards me and fell in step with me on the pilgrim's´way --- stones (have a mentioned the stones???!!) and mud and all -- and him in his smart black leather shoes. He asked me where I had walked from and when I told him he would not believe me that I had walked so far. He then said there is no refuge open in the next village --- about another kilometer or so. I said I know there is a refuge open --- one has to get the key from the bar across the square. He said no -- I will have to come and stay in his house. Now this is of course all in Spanish and I am afraid that my Spanish is not even ten words better than it was when I started this journey... I said no thank you I will stay in the refuge. He got angry and said the refuge is closed and if I pay him (much rubbing of fingers and mention of dinero´s) I can stay in his house. I said again no thank you. He then returned to the more comfortable tarmac of the road and started walking a little faster than me. When I arrived wet and tired at the bar across the square about half hour later, guess who was standing at the bar, drinking a glass of wine, but the gargoyle man himself. I went up top the bar owner and asked for the refuge key and he said no, refuge closed. I said it has to be opened upon request but he shouted at me and told me to go to the next town )another ten kilometers) -- there was no room for me in this village. Well --- I could see why a pilgrim would lose their way or renounce their faith or do something silly --- not hard to be tempted to do anything when you have walked 11 hours in the pouring rain and cold and mist and past that many closed refuge doors, but you would be proud of me --- I smiled and turned around and walked to the other side of the town and booked into a hostal --- THE hostal of BATH!! and HOT WATER!! fame!!
Fortunately for me I so love the rain --- and the pitta patta sound of the drops on my poncho provide a wonderful background rhythm to the squelching of my boots in the mud and my stick marking the pace. I am just so grateful that the rain did not come before in the mountainous parts where going up hill and downhill could have become a tricky -- if not hilarious maneouvre!
I have not even started to talk about my epiphanies, or my many moments of tears -- of joy and wonder and awe --- nor have I brought you up to date of my fellow pilgrims ---
there is so much to tell and share -- but for tonight this is all, folks! --- I shall now go wash my clothes and then go look for a little place
Please keep the little text messages and msm´s coming --- they are fantastically encouraging and energising!
Lots of love to you all..................
Keep the spirit alive! And Buen Camino!
Ponderings on the way
not too often I get an internet along the way -- they are there but mostly do not work or are so slow and archaic that it is just not worth the effort.
Not that there is not so much much to tell and write down --- rest assured -- it is quite obviously why everyone who does this pilgrimage feels the needs to write a book about the experience.
And tonight my fingers are completely frozen so the spelling may leave a lot to be desired..........
the temperature outside is way below zero and yesterday and this morning it snowed -- with a strong wind which is blowing straight off the snow capped mountains lying to the north and in front of me now ---
in a day or two I will be going up those mountains and it is quite interesting how it is an exciting rather than a frightening thought.......
the camino must be getting to me after all......
My one fellow pilgrim, Akira, is leaving tomorrow from Asturga to Madrid from where he is flying back to Japan tomorrow night --- we have walked together these last two days and tomorrow he will walk the last 15 km to Asturga ( Nici will no doubt correct the names as she follows my route on Google earth -- and I do so get the Spànish names completely wrong --- but really -- somehow it is just not important which town or village I am in, nor what day of the week or date it is.........) --- anyway -- he will walk the 15 km to there to catch a bus to Madrid and off to Japan tomorrow night... Most of the rest of the fellow pilgrims I have met on the way stayed behind in Leon two days ago to sight see and visit dentists and do all those sort of things..
I had to have my shoes repaired --- they started top show some wear and I was concerned about the snow and rain ahead -- and I was so lucky to find a cobbler who really knows his stuff --- he practically took my shoes completely apart and rebuilt them on the sides where the problem was -- 45 minutes he worked without a break -- and what did he charge me -- Euros 4!!! quite quite amazing! One never ceases to be surprised by the incredible things that happen on the way of Santiago.
I have to admit to you all that I have had two really bad days--- -- going into a city is never a pleasant experience, but going into Leon was a day in purgatory. Having to walk alongside huge national motorways with large trucks and cars going at 150 kph flying past one, is not an experience I wish on anyone --- especially when your feet are on fire and your legs feel wonky and you have just walked 30 km over stones and more stones and more stones.
And a lot of the way the ´way´was literally the ditch along the highway -- so a matter of balancing on one incline then the other, rubbish strewn all the way and often foul smelling water running in the ditch between your legs.
----I took pics --- yes, you know what that means --- I intend to write to the king of Spain and tell him what I think of this bad treatment of pilgrims.... Usually when one gets close to big roads --- fortunately not very often -- the truck drivers are very sweet and honk on their horns once or twice and wave to the pilgrims --- it is encouraging and heartening --- but when it happens along the national highways, it means the honking nearly deafens your right ear and leaves it singing for half an hour later and they are going much too fast and too close for you to take your eyes off the ditch for one second to wave back. Not good.
Then -- Leon was absolutely beautiful and I had a moment to go look at the most amazing cathedral there, -- and the refugio in Leon was a Benedictine monastery -- which meant curfew at 9pm straight after vespers -- and also meant women and men slept apart which was pure bliss --- no snoring!!!! --- but also meant breakfast at dawn --before 6am --- and no talking in between lights out and lights on --- but once again leaving the city is nightmare. It takes about two hours to get out of the city -- and usually through the worst part of the city -- the industrial parts where signs are often difficult to find and one can easily take the wrong route. Fortunately I did not, but, immediately after the first village outside the city., I did take the wrong turn -- could not find a yellow arrow or a shell sign anywhere, and continued walking regardless -- as there were some footprints in the mud and that is always a sign pilgrims when that way before you. I continued walking for about 6 km and came to an area where there were a lot of new houses -- but obviously not a village -- no church or bell towers with stork nests and storks tuck-tuck-tucking away--- and when I finally found a person to ask where i was, the poor man was totally confused. I was so far off the Camino track he did not even know how to advise me to get back on it. The only thing I could do was turn around ---. the nightmare of any pilgrim --- and get back to the point where I had gone wrong. Difficult to explain what that does to ones spirit. The way is hard and demanding enough --- but to walk backwards is killing. And all of a sudden your 24 km walk of the day becomes a 34 km walk for the day --- a huge difference --- especially when you body is already sore and your feet already pulp.
Anyway, I got to the village where Akira and I had agreed to meet last night and there he was -- the only other pilgrim in the Refugio, with a glass of wine ready for me, a chair by the heater (the temperatures have suddenly fallen drastically and the streams are frozen and the hoar frost on my fleece making long silver strands that are beautiful...) and he cooked the most amazing meal for the two of us ---a cauliflower and carrot soup (trust me, it was divine!) and fish and rice --- I went to bed last night and for the first time since starting the camino, slept right through the night. Bliss.
This morning he taped my feet for me --- Japanese style -- and how I wish I had known of this technique before!!! --- and for the first time in days every step was not pure agony --- and we walked at an easy pace the 18 kilometers to this refugio --- the oldest refugio on the camino, built in the 11 th century and just the most gorgeous little place. There are about ten other pilgrims, but it is one of those evenings where i cannot even be bothered to find out where they are from or where they started or who they are... The hospitalero, Freda, is a gorgeous vivacious dynamo of a woman, probably my age, from, Belgium, who did the camino and wanted to come back and go the job as hospitalero here --- charming and interesting and lovely. Akira and I shared our bottle of wine with her --- sitting outside in the freezing courtyard and sharing stories and friendship and wine. The way of the camino.
This continues to be an incredible experience. I realise more and more that one cannot -- not ever-- explain or describe to anyone else what the experience is like. Everyone´s camino is their personal pilgrimage. Everyone experiences different things in different ways. See different things along the way. Lives a different reality. Everyone understands different signs differently. Interprets different events according to their own frame of reference, to their own life experience and history.
But everyone´s life is changed by it.
I look forward to coming home and writing about my camino. and sharing with you all what it meant to me. What I experienced. What I lived over these five six weeks.
One thing I do know is that I so wish that everyone of my friends could live this camino with me. It is so incredibly wonderful --- such a unique privilege to be doing what I am doing.
It is something everyone should have the opportunity once in their lives to do.
For now, I think I must go warm my fingers and possibly go go to bed early tonight and hope for a quiet night with not too much snoring in the dormitory and too often that the blanket slides off the top of my sleeping bag and leaves my waking up a little ball of ice..... and tomorrow morning at 6 I shall bid a sad farewell to my fellow pilgrim Akira and see him on his way as he sets off with his torch, long before the the sun fights its way through the mist and the birds start to sing, and then later set off myself on the next wonderful stage of the Camino --- yet another day and another 30 km closer to Santiago.
Buen Camino
and Keep the Spirit Alive!
Not that there is not so much much to tell and write down --- rest assured -- it is quite obviously why everyone who does this pilgrimage feels the needs to write a book about the experience.
And tonight my fingers are completely frozen so the spelling may leave a lot to be desired..........
the temperature outside is way below zero and yesterday and this morning it snowed -- with a strong wind which is blowing straight off the snow capped mountains lying to the north and in front of me now ---
in a day or two I will be going up those mountains and it is quite interesting how it is an exciting rather than a frightening thought.......
the camino must be getting to me after all......
My one fellow pilgrim, Akira, is leaving tomorrow from Asturga to Madrid from where he is flying back to Japan tomorrow night --- we have walked together these last two days and tomorrow he will walk the last 15 km to Asturga ( Nici will no doubt correct the names as she follows my route on Google earth -- and I do so get the Spànish names completely wrong --- but really -- somehow it is just not important which town or village I am in, nor what day of the week or date it is.........) --- anyway -- he will walk the 15 km to there to catch a bus to Madrid and off to Japan tomorrow night... Most of the rest of the fellow pilgrims I have met on the way stayed behind in Leon two days ago to sight see and visit dentists and do all those sort of things..
I had to have my shoes repaired --- they started top show some wear and I was concerned about the snow and rain ahead -- and I was so lucky to find a cobbler who really knows his stuff --- he practically took my shoes completely apart and rebuilt them on the sides where the problem was -- 45 minutes he worked without a break -- and what did he charge me -- Euros 4!!! quite quite amazing! One never ceases to be surprised by the incredible things that happen on the way of Santiago.
I have to admit to you all that I have had two really bad days--- -- going into a city is never a pleasant experience, but going into Leon was a day in purgatory. Having to walk alongside huge national motorways with large trucks and cars going at 150 kph flying past one, is not an experience I wish on anyone --- especially when your feet are on fire and your legs feel wonky and you have just walked 30 km over stones and more stones and more stones.
And a lot of the way the ´way´was literally the ditch along the highway -- so a matter of balancing on one incline then the other, rubbish strewn all the way and often foul smelling water running in the ditch between your legs.
----I took pics --- yes, you know what that means --- I intend to write to the king of Spain and tell him what I think of this bad treatment of pilgrims.... Usually when one gets close to big roads --- fortunately not very often -- the truck drivers are very sweet and honk on their horns once or twice and wave to the pilgrims --- it is encouraging and heartening --- but when it happens along the national highways, it means the honking nearly deafens your right ear and leaves it singing for half an hour later and they are going much too fast and too close for you to take your eyes off the ditch for one second to wave back. Not good.
Then -- Leon was absolutely beautiful and I had a moment to go look at the most amazing cathedral there, -- and the refugio in Leon was a Benedictine monastery -- which meant curfew at 9pm straight after vespers -- and also meant women and men slept apart which was pure bliss --- no snoring!!!! --- but also meant breakfast at dawn --before 6am --- and no talking in between lights out and lights on --- but once again leaving the city is nightmare. It takes about two hours to get out of the city -- and usually through the worst part of the city -- the industrial parts where signs are often difficult to find and one can easily take the wrong route. Fortunately I did not, but, immediately after the first village outside the city., I did take the wrong turn -- could not find a yellow arrow or a shell sign anywhere, and continued walking regardless -- as there were some footprints in the mud and that is always a sign pilgrims when that way before you. I continued walking for about 6 km and came to an area where there were a lot of new houses -- but obviously not a village -- no church or bell towers with stork nests and storks tuck-tuck-tucking away--- and when I finally found a person to ask where i was, the poor man was totally confused. I was so far off the Camino track he did not even know how to advise me to get back on it. The only thing I could do was turn around ---. the nightmare of any pilgrim --- and get back to the point where I had gone wrong. Difficult to explain what that does to ones spirit. The way is hard and demanding enough --- but to walk backwards is killing. And all of a sudden your 24 km walk of the day becomes a 34 km walk for the day --- a huge difference --- especially when you body is already sore and your feet already pulp.
Anyway, I got to the village where Akira and I had agreed to meet last night and there he was -- the only other pilgrim in the Refugio, with a glass of wine ready for me, a chair by the heater (the temperatures have suddenly fallen drastically and the streams are frozen and the hoar frost on my fleece making long silver strands that are beautiful...) and he cooked the most amazing meal for the two of us ---a cauliflower and carrot soup (trust me, it was divine!) and fish and rice --- I went to bed last night and for the first time since starting the camino, slept right through the night. Bliss.
This morning he taped my feet for me --- Japanese style -- and how I wish I had known of this technique before!!! --- and for the first time in days every step was not pure agony --- and we walked at an easy pace the 18 kilometers to this refugio --- the oldest refugio on the camino, built in the 11 th century and just the most gorgeous little place. There are about ten other pilgrims, but it is one of those evenings where i cannot even be bothered to find out where they are from or where they started or who they are... The hospitalero, Freda, is a gorgeous vivacious dynamo of a woman, probably my age, from, Belgium, who did the camino and wanted to come back and go the job as hospitalero here --- charming and interesting and lovely. Akira and I shared our bottle of wine with her --- sitting outside in the freezing courtyard and sharing stories and friendship and wine. The way of the camino.
This continues to be an incredible experience. I realise more and more that one cannot -- not ever-- explain or describe to anyone else what the experience is like. Everyone´s camino is their personal pilgrimage. Everyone experiences different things in different ways. See different things along the way. Lives a different reality. Everyone understands different signs differently. Interprets different events according to their own frame of reference, to their own life experience and history.
But everyone´s life is changed by it.
I look forward to coming home and writing about my camino. and sharing with you all what it meant to me. What I experienced. What I lived over these five six weeks.
One thing I do know is that I so wish that everyone of my friends could live this camino with me. It is so incredibly wonderful --- such a unique privilege to be doing what I am doing.
It is something everyone should have the opportunity once in their lives to do.
For now, I think I must go warm my fingers and possibly go go to bed early tonight and hope for a quiet night with not too much snoring in the dormitory and too often that the blanket slides off the top of my sleeping bag and leaves my waking up a little ball of ice..... and tomorrow morning at 6 I shall bid a sad farewell to my fellow pilgrim Akira and see him on his way as he sets off with his torch, long before the the sun fights its way through the mist and the birds start to sing, and then later set off myself on the next wonderful stage of the Camino --- yet another day and another 30 km closer to Santiago.
Buen Camino
and Keep the Spirit Alive!
A sweet note from a fellow pilgrim
Dear Wilna
Today I got so many things.
Any way I am still on my cammino.
I want to talk with you so much!
See you, may be, on the day after tomorrow.
_________________________________________________________________
「初音ミク」の妹分「鏡音リン」をLive Search で画像検索！
Today I got so many things.
Any way I am still on my cammino.
I want to talk with you so much!
See you, may be, on the day after tomorrow.
_________________________________________________________________
「初音ミク」の妹分「鏡音リン」をLive Search で画像検索！
The night before entering the splendid city.....
I am standing at the only internet terminal I could find -- about 500 meters away from the municipal refugio of Monte de Gozo --- the little town on the hill outside Santiago. Tomorrow I shall get up at 6am and walk down the hill --- (and over the two more hills I saw coming here tonight!--- NOTHING is flat in Spain!!) and at dawn I shall stand on the square in from of the cathedral of Santiago.
I have done it!
800 kilometers in 36 days (or, 836km if you count in the twice I got lost and did the extra 12 and 24 kilometers) and here I am. And not even a chair to sit on in front of the monitor so standing on my two sore feet writing to share the moment with you all!
The last two days were quite eventful.
They say that everyone cries at least once on the camino. Well, you all know me --- I have cried many times --- mostly from joy and awe and wonder and being overwhelmed. Once in despair when my feet were such agony I could not give one more step and the refugio denied me entry as they were renovating. A couple of times in anger and quite a few times in sadness or sorrow.
These last few days it was almost as if those many many waves that came over me daily and left me feeling completely overwhelmed over the last 36 days, turned tide and washed over me once again but from the other direction and accompanied with such a strong back wash that I found it hard to stay grounded.
I have left so many things behind me on this way under the stars and over the stones. (I did mention the stones, did I not?)
I have carried my own stones with me and left them on the way. I have carried stones for just about everyone I love with me and left those along the way as well. I have learned things about myself that are sometimes frightening, sometimes joyful, almost always surprising.
I have found so many answers to questions that I never even knew I had.
I have made some very special friends, met some very interesting people and learned much about mankind I never knew before. And I have finally found my faith --- the answers I have sought for more than half a century were here on the Way, and I am so eternally grateful that they were waiting patiently there for me to come find them in my own time and in my own way.
and hey! I almost lost a hand in this whole process!
Well, not exactly a hand, but almost two fingers.
Well --- OK! not two fingers --- but two chunks out of two fingers! They say never to look a gift horse in the mouth. Should be never leave a gift in the mouth of a horse. I was walking along through this beautiful eucalyptus forest when I came upon a lovely horse. As I had not encountered anyone other than a few cyclists (Hola! Buen Camino!) and passed or let past a few groups of tourigrinos (as opposed to peregrinos) for a number of hours, I of course stopped to talk to the horse. He was very happy about that and came and stuck his head through the wire fencing, nudging my chest as he did so -- which I assumed in horse language meant "What do you have for me, peregrina?" As it happens I carry with me little packets of sugar ----which I get every time I have a hot chocolate for breakfast somewhere in a little place on the way and take with me to have with my lemons -- which I also collect on the way, but not in the same legal manner as the sugar----, so I took one of these out and poured the sugar in my open palm to offer to the horse. Humph! He liked the idea of this -- but little did I know his preferred tidbit is "Human hand con sugar" --- seems the two go very well together. It was not really funny. A horse´s bite is definitely worse than his neigh. He has big teeth. And a strong jaw. And everything I shouted and tried to get my hand out of this vise like grip was in vain. And do not laugh, but only when I knocked him on the nose and threatened to write to the king of Spain about this when I write to him about the dogs, did he let go (I know --- sounds far fetched, but far fetched things happen on the camino) -- but alas, he let go go, but not without taking two chunks of my meat with him to chew on later, no doubt -- with the last of the sugar grains left in his cheek. So, at last the one thing I had not used from my backpack as yet on the entire journey has come in handy -- the Mercurochrome! My thumb and pinkie will never be the same, but look quite dashingly dramatic all covered in red!
I had a call from Kamil yesterday!! He called from the door of the cathedral of Santiago´--- he made it!! You remember my telling of little rotund Kamil -- the doctor from Berlin who, when I met him on his first day (he started in Pamplona) he was inconsolable and crying --- his backpack was gouging holes in his back, his feet were covered in blisters and the insides of his legs were so chafed raw that they almost bled. --- Well --- after a good meal and much advice from fellow pilgrims, we got his feet fixed up, him wearing his pyjamas to protect his legs and his backpack frame removed to stop the broken bits sticking into his back --- and he walked the distance and reached Santiago! He made me promise to let him know when I am near so he can be there to welcome me in the square tomorrow. Brilliant!
It will be wonderful to see who is there in the square tomorrow --- at this stage I am not sure at all who is behind me and who is in front --- but I know we will al be meeting this weekend. I lost Mike (Marcus Antoine -- the Brazilian restaurant owner I met a few days ago and who calls me La Principessa and has been leaving messages for me all along the way) but I think he has gone on to Finisterre and from there down to Lisbon. The Canadian couple David and Marilyn are still a few days behind I believe, and the three Latvians and Patrick and Chris and Klaus should be there already. Amazing how exciting the thought can be to meet these fellow pilgrims again....
I shall also miss Thorsten and Akira --- darn it, you two!! You should be here waiting for me in Monto de Gozo tonight to walk into the square together tomorrow morning!
I still wanted to tell you about the scarf that has shrunk and the camino on a C.V. and crossing the roads and -------------------- well, lots lots more, but I have three minutes left on the machine and no money on my purse and my feet are saying Rest Time! --- so until the next time --- from Santiago itself! ---
Stay safe and happy and Hamba Kahle and Buen Camino!
I have done it!
800 kilometers in 36 days (or, 836km if you count in the twice I got lost and did the extra 12 and 24 kilometers) and here I am. And not even a chair to sit on in front of the monitor so standing on my two sore feet writing to share the moment with you all!
The last two days were quite eventful.
They say that everyone cries at least once on the camino. Well, you all know me --- I have cried many times --- mostly from joy and awe and wonder and being overwhelmed. Once in despair when my feet were such agony I could not give one more step and the refugio denied me entry as they were renovating. A couple of times in anger and quite a few times in sadness or sorrow.
These last few days it was almost as if those many many waves that came over me daily and left me feeling completely overwhelmed over the last 36 days, turned tide and washed over me once again but from the other direction and accompanied with such a strong back wash that I found it hard to stay grounded.
I have left so many things behind me on this way under the stars and over the stones. (I did mention the stones, did I not?)
I have carried my own stones with me and left them on the way. I have carried stones for just about everyone I love with me and left those along the way as well. I have learned things about myself that are sometimes frightening, sometimes joyful, almost always surprising.
I have found so many answers to questions that I never even knew I had.
I have made some very special friends, met some very interesting people and learned much about mankind I never knew before. And I have finally found my faith --- the answers I have sought for more than half a century were here on the Way, and I am so eternally grateful that they were waiting patiently there for me to come find them in my own time and in my own way.
and hey! I almost lost a hand in this whole process!
Well, not exactly a hand, but almost two fingers.
Well --- OK! not two fingers --- but two chunks out of two fingers! They say never to look a gift horse in the mouth. Should be never leave a gift in the mouth of a horse. I was walking along through this beautiful eucalyptus forest when I came upon a lovely horse. As I had not encountered anyone other than a few cyclists (Hola! Buen Camino!) and passed or let past a few groups of tourigrinos (as opposed to peregrinos) for a number of hours, I of course stopped to talk to the horse. He was very happy about that and came and stuck his head through the wire fencing, nudging my chest as he did so -- which I assumed in horse language meant "What do you have for me, peregrina?" As it happens I carry with me little packets of sugar ----which I get every time I have a hot chocolate for breakfast somewhere in a little place on the way and take with me to have with my lemons -- which I also collect on the way, but not in the same legal manner as the sugar----, so I took one of these out and poured the sugar in my open palm to offer to the horse. Humph! He liked the idea of this -- but little did I know his preferred tidbit is "Human hand con sugar" --- seems the two go very well together. It was not really funny. A horse´s bite is definitely worse than his neigh. He has big teeth. And a strong jaw. And everything I shouted and tried to get my hand out of this vise like grip was in vain. And do not laugh, but only when I knocked him on the nose and threatened to write to the king of Spain about this when I write to him about the dogs, did he let go (I know --- sounds far fetched, but far fetched things happen on the camino) -- but alas, he let go go, but not without taking two chunks of my meat with him to chew on later, no doubt -- with the last of the sugar grains left in his cheek. So, at last the one thing I had not used from my backpack as yet on the entire journey has come in handy -- the Mercurochrome! My thumb and pinkie will never be the same, but look quite dashingly dramatic all covered in red!
I had a call from Kamil yesterday!! He called from the door of the cathedral of Santiago´--- he made it!! You remember my telling of little rotund Kamil -- the doctor from Berlin who, when I met him on his first day (he started in Pamplona) he was inconsolable and crying --- his backpack was gouging holes in his back, his feet were covered in blisters and the insides of his legs were so chafed raw that they almost bled. --- Well --- after a good meal and much advice from fellow pilgrims, we got his feet fixed up, him wearing his pyjamas to protect his legs and his backpack frame removed to stop the broken bits sticking into his back --- and he walked the distance and reached Santiago! He made me promise to let him know when I am near so he can be there to welcome me in the square tomorrow. Brilliant!
It will be wonderful to see who is there in the square tomorrow --- at this stage I am not sure at all who is behind me and who is in front --- but I know we will al be meeting this weekend. I lost Mike (Marcus Antoine -- the Brazilian restaurant owner I met a few days ago and who calls me La Principessa and has been leaving messages for me all along the way) but I think he has gone on to Finisterre and from there down to Lisbon. The Canadian couple David and Marilyn are still a few days behind I believe, and the three Latvians and Patrick and Chris and Klaus should be there already. Amazing how exciting the thought can be to meet these fellow pilgrims again....
I shall also miss Thorsten and Akira --- darn it, you two!! You should be here waiting for me in Monto de Gozo tonight to walk into the square together tomorrow morning!
I still wanted to tell you about the scarf that has shrunk and the camino on a C.V. and crossing the roads and -------------------- well, lots lots more, but I have three minutes left on the machine and no money on my purse and my feet are saying Rest Time! --- so until the next time --- from Santiago itself! ---
Stay safe and happy and Hamba Kahle and Buen Camino!
Stress fractures
Stress fractures are tiny cracks in a bone. Stress fractures are caused by the repetitive application of force, often by overuse — such as repeatedly jumping up and down or running long distances. Stress fractures also can arise from normal use of a bone that's been weakened by a condition such as osteoporosis.
Stress fractures are most common in the weight-bearing bones of the lower leg and foot. Track and field athletes are particularly susceptible to stress fractures, but anyone can experience a stress fracture. If you're starting a new exercise program, for example, you may be at risk if you do too much too soon.
Your doctor might diagnose a stress fracture with magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) or another imaging technique. Treatment often involves icing the affected area and plenty of rest. Severe stress fractures may require splinting, casting or surgical insertion of a pin into the bone to promote healing.
# Suddenly shift from a sedentary lifestyle to an active training regimen — such as a military recruit subjected to intense marching exercises — or rapidly increase your exercise length and intensity
Fatigue fractures. If a normal bone is subjected to overuse or repetitive stress beyond its ability to repair itself, it may crack. This is known as a fatigue fracture. These fractures often occur during high-impact activities such as running and jumping, but they can also occur as a result of prolonged activities such as hiking or walking.
Stress fractures are most common in the weight-bearing bones of the lower leg and foot. Track and field athletes are particularly susceptible to stress fractures, but anyone can experience a stress fracture. If you're starting a new exercise program, for example, you may be at risk if you do too much too soon.
Your doctor might diagnose a stress fracture with magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) or another imaging technique. Treatment often involves icing the affected area and plenty of rest. Severe stress fractures may require splinting, casting or surgical insertion of a pin into the bone to promote healing.
# Suddenly shift from a sedentary lifestyle to an active training regimen — such as a military recruit subjected to intense marching exercises — or rapidly increase your exercise length and intensity
Fatigue fractures. If a normal bone is subjected to overuse or repetitive stress beyond its ability to repair itself, it may crack. This is known as a fatigue fracture. These fractures often occur during high-impact activities such as running and jumping, but they can also occur as a result of prolonged activities such as hiking or walking.
Santiago de Compostela
"Now comes the time for contemplation and reflection"--- That is what Mauro -- a dashing, larger than life Italian from Milano whom I encountered along the way -- in the rain, sidestepping deep puddles in the muddy path, on the way from Tricastela, to be exact -- said to me this morning, as we stood on the cathedral steps and watched one of the Easter-Good Friday processions make their laborious and painful way past us -- bare feet over the cold grey stones, carrying statues and crosses weighing hundreds of kilograms on their shoulders, to the rhythmic dirge-like beat of a hundred drummers, dressed in dark purple high pointed hoods.....
It was on the tip of my tongue to reply "But that is what we have done for the last 40 days, Mauro!", but then looked at this man who constantly looks like he has just stepped out a top fashion magazine, and realised the comment would be meaningless. Mauro has been keeping constant -- and I mean constant -- contact with everyone he knows in Milano -- on his mobile phone in the one hand -- and whilst filming the entire way with his video camera in the other hand -- no mean feat when you consider he also had to find his way through cow pats and villages where tractors could come round the corner at any time and cloud bursts and up mountains and down mountains and looking out for mad Spanish cyclists and madder singing barbarians....
Mauro and I were watching the procession but also keeping a lookout for pilgrims we know who still have to arrive. There are quite a few still to arrive and we would like to be there in the square in front of the cathedral, when they do. It is such a special moment!
One of the friends we look forward to welcoming is C-- a fifty-something guy from Bavaria who, I think, I have mentioned before. I met him for the first time in Belorado and he nearly brought the refugio´s roof down that night with his snoring. We had to shake him awake and threaten him with slow strangulation if he dared snore again. And, like a reformed smoker, he then became fanatical about anyone else snoring --- patrolled the dormitories at night and shouted at everyone who dared even give a little grunt in their sleep! It was always such a theatrical performance every time a new person joined the group -- to see whether they were going to snore and what Chris was going to do about it!
Anyway -- C is one of those incredibly inspiring people on the Camino -- one of the many one meets daily-- but very special. C has always been in a wheel chair and was not supposed to ever walk. He is successful as a flower grower and has a large export business which he runs from the confines of a chair. About five years ago he decided that there has to be more to life than sitting in a chair and decided that he was going to walk. He started off with one step after weeks of attempts, pain, frustration, tears and anger. The one step became two after months, and more and more and gradually he forced himself to stay upright and exercise his legs to develop the atrophied muscles and -- well, we are waiting in front of the cathedral of Santiago for C to arrive --- he has walked from Pamplona -- so just over 600km -- and he has done it with a smile and a song and always a helpful hand for anyone along the way. I have known him now for weeks and have had so many hours of conversation with him over that time, and yesterday, from another fellow pilgrim, I heard about this act of immense will power and courage. Chris never mentioned it to me. Amazing
It was in fact over lunch yesterday that I heard the story of C --- I was talking to P --- a huge Swede -- a mountain ranger/shipbuilder and all sorts and who has now started a programme for 14-17 year old boys who are first offenders and instead of them going to a reform institution or worse, he takes them on a tall ship around the world for a year to rehabilitate them..... another long wonderful story.
Anyway, P and I were one of the first ten pilgrims to arrive at the door of the oldest hotel -- and number one hotel in all of Spain, if not Europe -- which is across the square of the cathedral. The custom, since the 14th century -- since when the hotel has been there, is that the first ten pilgrims who are at the door one hour before breakfast or lunch or dinner, may come into the hotel and get a free meal. it is wonderful! Of course we are taken right past the posh crisp white table cloths of the restaurant and the monocled and fur-clad patrons there, and through the kitchen, where we get a tray and the chef comes and gives us whatever is on the menu of the day --- yesterday our lunch consisted of a big bowl of fresh delicious Salade Nicoise, roast chicken and rosti potatoes, fresh fruit salad and creme anglaise for dessert, bread and water and bottles of wine -- as much as we want. We then take our trays and go another flight down and in a gorgeous little stonewalled room -- probably the same where pilgrims have been eating their free meals for the last 7 centuries, we sat round a round (of course) table and enjoyed a delicious free meal!
But now I must go again --- Terence has flown in from England to come fetch me !!!! (I think he and the children were worried I was going to turn around and walk back!) (Would I ever do such a thing???..........)---- but they made him land in Asturia -- which is about 5-6 hours drive away from Santiago -- and I need to go sweet talk the man at the Santiago airport to let him keep his plane there for three days and not just one afternoon.
I shall let you know if my sweet talking skills still work....
and tell you about N, the South African Merino farmer-- and hugging Saint James and why the local cheeses look like young (very young) women´s breasts.........
Stay well and happy -- and buen camino!
A last !Hola! from a pilgrim
A last hola from a pilgrim
I am back home --- the river is in full flood, the skies are grey and heavy with rain---- and only the rain is stopping it from snowing, for the temperatures apparently have not been above 5' for the last few weeks --- but I spent a heavenly two hours floating in a hot hot bath Monday afternoon when I got back and I am wearing different clothes to those I have been wearing for 40 days -- albeit that I had some difficulty finding something that did not fall off the moment I put it on ----
(no! I exaggerate -- of course not something I usually do, but it was tempting for a minute there........)
---I don't quite look like a toothpick, Nix -- nor like Forest Gump --(mmmmmm --- at least, I don't think I do!) but the scale does show that I have lost 6 kilos -- which I think is pretty mean, considering that I burnt 260,890 calories for each 4 calories that I consumed over a period of forty days (and I only consumed 16 calories per day!), and by my rough calculations that should not cause the scale dial to go one little line further than about 54kg --- but I suppose you will all say my mathematical calculative capabilities have never been my prime asset, (and in fact, if you remember, by last count, we never did confirm what those prime assets actually were!) so perhaps I was a little over zealous in my expectations of weight loss on the camino --- However, what it does tell me categorically is that that programme you all so love watching, The Biggest Loser, is a scam! Lots of exercise and little healthy food does not result in weight loss. I am now quite convinced those contestants all went for surgery! Believe me. I have a nose for these things!
and it feels very strange to be back.
Except...........(Akira! Help! I do not see any yellow arrows showing me which way to go...............)
As mentioned ---
Terence flew into Spain -- and called me from Asturia. -- The nearest airport (apart from Santiago which is just too big and busy and difficult to get time slots that suit) was O Coruna - about 80 km from Santiago, but the airport would not let him park his plane there for more than one day. (don't ask --- no one could figure out that rule). So they sent him on to Asturia -- which is roughly 6 hours' drive --- or more importantly, about twenty days' hard walking from Santiago.
So I said he had to go explain nicely to them that he needed to get to Santiago and their reasoning was no good. He explained that he had come to fetch me -- who had just completed the camino -- -- the result of which was that he got to stay one night, but had to go fetch the plane on Saturday. ---- well, to cut a loooooong story a little shorter (for those of you who do not speed read) I practised my non-Spanish sweet talking, the receptionist at the hotel then practised her Spanish sweet talking --- all about me having walked for 40 days to get to Santiago for Easter and the Pilgrims' mass on Easter Sunday and him having flown all the way from England to be there as well to spend Easter with me and take me home and prevent me from keeping on walking and the end of the story was that the man relented and allowed the plane to stay until Monday morning. So Terence got back into the plane in Asturia and flew to O Coruna from where he took a taxi and arrived in Santiago late on Friday afternoon.
Just before he arrived I was walking through the town looking for a place to eat something when I bumped into David and Marilyn --- the delightful Canadian couple I had met much earlier on the Way and not seen for almost two weeks. It was a wonderful reunion and in no time we were sipping wine and exchanging stories of the last two weeks' walk.
Next thing Nakkie arrived -- the South African merino sheep farmer from Volksrust -- and heard all her stories as well. Chrissie, the young German graphic artist with whom sh had walked most of the way after meeting somewhere near the start, was frantically trying to find a hairdresser as she wanted to change her look before going back on Saturday morning --- her long blond tresses had to go and she wanted a short black head of hair (reminded me of someone I know....) -- and the poor girl was so disappointed when she could not find a hairdresser open.
So we sat there, like four old Camino veterans, shaking our heads at the millions of pilgrims streaming past us into the city and up the steps towards the cathedral -- half of Spain don their backpacks and walking shoes and poncho's and grab a stick - or a bicycle and walk or ride during the Semana Santa -- Holy Week to be in Santiago for Easter -- some walk 100km, some walk 10km, some walk for one day only or two days and some walk for the whole week, but from Friday and over the weekend they flooded into the city, all heading straight for the cathedral, and to give St Iago or St James his hug. (If he weren't a saint before, he would have to be one by now -- anyone who gets hugged by so many wet, bedraggled smelly pilgrims deserves some special recognition!).
When Terence finally arrived we headed for the 6 0' clock mass which turned out to be vespers (so I am told) when all the priests chant their offices for the day (not in Georgian chant, as I heard in the mountains in the monastery in Rabenal el Camino --- just before that horrendous climb over Al Acebo mountain in the middle of the hurricane -- but rather a spot of [b]ecclesiastical karaoke[/b][i], as David termed it, more like!)
I was so excited to have him then experience one of the Easter processions -- something that will get its own chapter --- but then it had started to rain again as it can only do in Galicia!!! So all three processions of Friday night were cancelled -- 6pm, 8:30 and 11:30pm. That was the biggest disappointment for me -- on Saturday there was only one procession programmed -- for 9:30pm and it poured with rain all day and night. So he never got to experience one of those spine chilling medieval processions -- he will have to go back........ But it was fabulous having Terence come to Santiago and see the arriving pilgrims, meet some of the characters and good friends I had made along the way and hear the many stories from everyone about their experiences. He was in awe. Had he not heard it from the others, I think he would still not believe that I had actually done it!! -- but now he understands so much better what the walk entailed, what it demanded, who the people are who do it, what it means to those who completed it. On the first day I commented on someone coming past -- pointed out to him that is probably someone who has only done the last 30km or so, and at least 20 of those 30 by bus, and then pointing to another pilgrim coming in who had clearly walked the entire camino; but explaining that each person's camino is their personal achievement -- no two people have had the same experience. Very soon he became the expert in judging the duration and distance the different pilgrims had done -- by their shoes, their clothes, their backpacks, their sticks, the lines on their faces, their bodyweight and mostly by their gait. He even became a good judge of limps -- if they were old limps, recent limps, blister limps or damaged feet or knee limps!
The best was on Sunday morning when we went to the cathedral early for Easter mass and the swinging of the giant butefumeiro -- incense burner -- which they have been doing since the beginning of time -- in an attempt to lessen the smell of the pilgrims in the cathedral --- another bit of showmanship where 8 people swing on a rope on the one end and a giant -- and I mean GIANT incense burner swings on the other end of the rope the entire width of the cathedral. How people do not get decapitated -- well, perhaps they do, but none on this occasion --- is a mystery. But -- because it was Easter Sunday and the first mass of the day, I then met almost all the fellow pilgrims I had not seen before and who were just arriving in Santiago then in time for Easter mass! Oh joy! there was Stephan (who was in Astorga for two days with a messed up knee the same time I was there with my messed up feet -- he then took a bus to Sarria and walked the last 100km only) and his girlfriend Helen, lovely Florian, and Luis and Sergei (the two that talked me the last 10km into Leon when my feet were almost at their worst) and Uwe who walked the camino as a promise when his daughter went into remission with Hodgkins, and Terence -- the young Sydneysider who brought sunshine wherever he walked on the Way --- and C! ---the man I got to know way back in Belorado who was in a wheel chair all his life and forced himself to start walking five years ago --- he finished on Easter Sunday and I was there to welcome him! We cried on each other's shoulders and laughed and totally misbehaved, considering we were in church --- but --- One of those many unique moments that one cannot describe in words.............
On Monday morning David and Marilyn joined Terence and myself and we drove to O Coruna and Terence kindly flew us back -- in 3 and half hours we completed the distance that had taken us seven weeks to walk -- no blisters, no aching joints, no backpacks weighing us down, no mountains to climb, no rivers to forge, no mud to slip and slide in, no wind to fight against, no 50 bed dormitories to sleep in and listen to night symphonies in Snoring in B#, no stones, no stopping along the way to picnic on bread and cheese and sausage and lemons and sugar, no curfews, no ice cold showers, no voltaren cream and Ibrupofen tablets to swallow, no stones, no stamps to be collected in the pilgrims' passport, no closed refugio doors, no pilgrims' menus, no plastic raingear to put on in a hurry and in a gale force wind, no dogs on chains, no biting horses, no eucalyptus forests, no stones (did I ever mention the stones on the way?), no friendly Hola! or Buen Camio! or Buen Viaje! along the way, no packing sleeping bags or washing socks or typing on Sanish keyboards, no wending your way through a conversation in 9 different languages, ----and no looking for the little yeallow arrow pointing the way!!
Getting used to 'real life' again is not going to be too easy --- perhaps just as well that David and Marilyn joined me -- for the last two and half days we could talk at will about our exepriences, our thoughts, our memories, the people we encountered, the places we walked through -- we could start every sentence every moment of the day with something that referred to the Camino. What bliss!
(As Terence pointed out when I said to him the hardest is going to be not to talk about it all the time and everywhere, non-stop, relating everything that happens or is said to the Camino --- he said, rather than the first thing you say, always make it the third thing you say..... -- Good advice! I most certainly will try!)
You have all been wonderful reading and responding to my e-mails over the last 7 weeks. I have often mentioned how heartening it was to get your messages and your msm's--- I so looked forward to finding a refugio with an internet/computer stuck somewhere in a back corner and really felt bereft when, sometimes, for days on end, there was no internet available anywhere --- not to check the internet, not to be in contact with the 'real' world, not to do anything other than read the little messages from all of you! --- and every morning, roughly ten minutes before my alarm buzzer on my mobile phone went off at 06:15am under my pillow, the buzzer gave three short buzzes -- a text message from Terrie! -- I loved those little buzzes -- knowing it is my dear friend with a short little message of encouragement and praise and lots of love. After that I was ready to climb the Pyrenees or Al Acebo or O Cebrero every day! And then, usually just as I was on the top of a mountain and stopping to look back over the magnificent landscape I had had just spent 4-5 hours crossing, another three short buzzes and a little text from Pierre or Nici to say -- Well done! You are great! SO proud of you! xxxx -- almost as if they knew exactly where I was finding myself.
And, although I keep repeating myself, I specifically wanted to thank you all again for that. I know one of you commented that the whole thing seemed a bit like bashing my wall against a brick wall, and then Marc made a very interesting and thought provoking observation. He said that no one really understood -- had an inkling of a notion, could even begin to imagine, or appreciate, let alone envisage what I was doing.
You read the messages, he said, and all the way through you say "Wow!!" "This is amazing!!" "How does she do it? I could never do that!" -- but ten minutes later you have stopped thinking about it and you continue what you were doing and do not even wonder about me busy walking -- and still walking hours later, and then still walking more hours later, because it is just something you cannot even begin to relate to.
Nothing in your own frame of reference can even remotely be compared to someone getting up every morning before dawn, getting dressed in the same clothes you have been wearing for 7 weeks (hoping they dried on the heater before the heating was switched off during the night), putting an 8 kilo back pack on your back, setting off in the dark, alone, in the mist or rain or snow, and walking over mountainous landscapes on stony ancient pathways for the next 8 to 11 hours or until sunset, day after day after day, for 36 days.
Marc so rightly observed that when he, Nici and Pierre and Sacha and Mat crossed the African continent and travelled in a truck through 23+ countries, swept the flies off little mounds on a wooden trestle table in the markets to see if it was rotten meat or fish underneath that could be cooked for their meal, slept under the stars, passed baby elephants along the main road that had been killed by vehicles, washed in a bucket of water, had to pay soldiers to accompany them and drive through the bush to evade wars going on ---( and yes, you are so right March -- -- even I, who 'lived' every moment of those months with you and met you on the way twice for a brief spell, cannot begin to list what you experienced during those ten months) -- no one they have told these experiences to have been able to grasp what it is they lived during those months -- because nobody they know have ever done anything similar, so it is beyond their ken.
I appreciate that what he says is true. One can only imagine something that is within your frame of reference.
So yes, Marc --- I realise when I see some of the reactions of people that hear about the Camino, that unless someone has done the same thing themselves, they cannot relate to what I am writing as I sit here -- and therefore cannot really appreciate or for that matter, be very interested in my story. You are correct -- and I agree with you completely. It will be my next challenge now to tell the story in such a way that people will understand a little of what the Camino is about and will, even if just in the reading, find it -- not like head bashing -- on the contrary!, nor alien and incomprehensible, but rather interesting and hopefully also inspiring. Thank you my angel for pointing that out to me --- before I put my head down and start writing my story, that was probably the best and most practical advice anyone could give have given me.
It is so true. You may well have walked or run a marathon and done three times what I did in a day, but did you do that with a backpack on your back and did you do that for 36 consecutive days? We often talked in the evenings about different reactions from people we knew, and many pilgrims commented on friends saying that the Camino is not a difficult hike for a seasoned or avid hiker. There are much more demanding and gruelling walks or climbs or treks or hikes. The 42km Otter trail, for instance, was mentioned by a South African, as being far more demanding than the 800km Camino.
That may be so, and I grant that you are talking of a gruelling and difficult six days' trekking and I do not think that I would be able to complete it.. But has anyone ever done the otter trail non stop 19 times in a row? -- for that is what we are talking about. It is not so much the physical demand the Camino makes on one -- it is the mental demand that is the test -- and a mental demand, at that, that is made unrelentingly hour after hour, day after day, week after week....
The first night I arrived in St Jean Pied de Port and I had the wonderful good fortune to meet my wonderful fellow pilgrim, Thorsten, before starting the climb over the Pyrenees the following day and setting off on the pilgrimage, we talked about what lay ahead and I mentioned the fact that the furthest I had ever walked, without a backpack, and on smooth tarred roads, was ten kilometers. Thorsten, who had walked the Camino before, then told me --
"It is not a physical challenge. It is a mental challenge. Your body can do anything your mind tells it to do. If you are strong in your mind, you will finish the Camino."
He was telling me what I have been preaching for years! All these years, all over the world, I have been giving motivational talks saying exactly that. Mind over Matter. The Power of the Mind. Of course I knew what he was talking about. In fact, this was the main reason why I was walking the Camino I wanted to do something that would not be easy for me,, that would be a true challenge, that would be very demanding, that would be way out of my comfort zone, that would test my own tenets that I have been pontificating for years. I wanted to do something that would really test my belief that the mind is in fact the most powerful tool known to man. So yes! of course I knew what Thorsten was talking about!
Wrong! I was half way up the 3000 metre Pyrenees mountain when I found that all that jargon is much easier said than done. I had to talk very hard to myself. I had to dig very deep to find the resolve, the courage, the energy and the strength to push myself to go on. Every single day thereafter there was at least one moment when I found a new proof of the power of the mind -- when it was my mind and only my mind that got me through that moment ------ I shall be writing more about that --- about how, all along the Camino -- a pathway which never gets easy, never lets up, never gives an inch, never shows mercy -- and importantly a pathway where one can in fact 'get off' at any moment, at any stage, where one can send your backpack ahead by vehicle, or hop onto a taxi or a bus or a train when the going gets a bit hard -- and still get to the end and claim victory, so where one is constantly given a too-easy choice of continuing or not, how this is surely the greatest test of Mind over Matter, the greatest proof of the Power of the Mind.
And there, my dear friends, supporters and encouragers, is where my little accounts have to end. I have to get back into the real world now -- a little chateau is awaiting my spit and polish -- my first guests start arriving next week -- and much is to be done, after the long winter hibernation, to get it back to a warm welcoming gleaming and sparkling place for people to come enjoy. I shall also start working immediately on completing my book -- and I hope these little weekly messages have whetted your appetite to read it when it is finally published! I have also already had the little local gallery owner knocking on my door and wanting a date for the exhibition of my paintings and photographs of the Camino (Yikes!), so the next few months will be wonderfully busy and exciting!
(Remember -- I dedicated my pilgrimage, my Camino, to my dear friend, Terrie Baxter, and any and all proceeds from the book, the exhibition and speaking will go to the charity of her choice -- which is the Australian Cancer Research Foundation).
Thank you All, for being there for me!
I wish you all a Buen Camino -- a most wonderful journey through life!
I am back home --- the river is in full flood, the skies are grey and heavy with rain---- and only the rain is stopping it from snowing, for the temperatures apparently have not been above 5' for the last few weeks --- but I spent a heavenly two hours floating in a hot hot bath Monday afternoon when I got back and I am wearing different clothes to those I have been wearing for 40 days -- albeit that I had some difficulty finding something that did not fall off the moment I put it on ----
(no! I exaggerate -- of course not something I usually do, but it was tempting for a minute there........)
---I don't quite look like a toothpick, Nix -- nor like Forest Gump --(mmmmmm --- at least, I don't think I do!) but the scale does show that I have lost 6 kilos -- which I think is pretty mean, considering that I burnt 260,890 calories for each 4 calories that I consumed over a period of forty days (and I only consumed 16 calories per day!), and by my rough calculations that should not cause the scale dial to go one little line further than about 54kg --- but I suppose you will all say my mathematical calculative capabilities have never been my prime asset, (and in fact, if you remember, by last count, we never did confirm what those prime assets actually were!) so perhaps I was a little over zealous in my expectations of weight loss on the camino --- However, what it does tell me categorically is that that programme you all so love watching, The Biggest Loser, is a scam! Lots of exercise and little healthy food does not result in weight loss. I am now quite convinced those contestants all went for surgery! Believe me. I have a nose for these things!
and it feels very strange to be back.
Except...........(Akira! Help! I do not see any yellow arrows showing me which way to go...............)
As mentioned ---
Terence flew into Spain -- and called me from Asturia. -- The nearest airport (apart from Santiago which is just too big and busy and difficult to get time slots that suit) was O Coruna - about 80 km from Santiago, but the airport would not let him park his plane there for more than one day. (don't ask --- no one could figure out that rule). So they sent him on to Asturia -- which is roughly 6 hours' drive --- or more importantly, about twenty days' hard walking from Santiago.
So I said he had to go explain nicely to them that he needed to get to Santiago and their reasoning was no good. He explained that he had come to fetch me -- who had just completed the camino -- -- the result of which was that he got to stay one night, but had to go fetch the plane on Saturday. ---- well, to cut a loooooong story a little shorter (for those of you who do not speed read) I practised my non-Spanish sweet talking, the receptionist at the hotel then practised her Spanish sweet talking --- all about me having walked for 40 days to get to Santiago for Easter and the Pilgrims' mass on Easter Sunday and him having flown all the way from England to be there as well to spend Easter with me and take me home and prevent me from keeping on walking and the end of the story was that the man relented and allowed the plane to stay until Monday morning. So Terence got back into the plane in Asturia and flew to O Coruna from where he took a taxi and arrived in Santiago late on Friday afternoon.
Just before he arrived I was walking through the town looking for a place to eat something when I bumped into David and Marilyn --- the delightful Canadian couple I had met much earlier on the Way and not seen for almost two weeks. It was a wonderful reunion and in no time we were sipping wine and exchanging stories of the last two weeks' walk.
Next thing Nakkie arrived -- the South African merino sheep farmer from Volksrust -- and heard all her stories as well. Chrissie, the young German graphic artist with whom sh had walked most of the way after meeting somewhere near the start, was frantically trying to find a hairdresser as she wanted to change her look before going back on Saturday morning --- her long blond tresses had to go and she wanted a short black head of hair (reminded me of someone I know....) -- and the poor girl was so disappointed when she could not find a hairdresser open.
So we sat there, like four old Camino veterans, shaking our heads at the millions of pilgrims streaming past us into the city and up the steps towards the cathedral -- half of Spain don their backpacks and walking shoes and poncho's and grab a stick - or a bicycle and walk or ride during the Semana Santa -- Holy Week to be in Santiago for Easter -- some walk 100km, some walk 10km, some walk for one day only or two days and some walk for the whole week, but from Friday and over the weekend they flooded into the city, all heading straight for the cathedral, and to give St Iago or St James his hug. (If he weren't a saint before, he would have to be one by now -- anyone who gets hugged by so many wet, bedraggled smelly pilgrims deserves some special recognition!).
When Terence finally arrived we headed for the 6 0' clock mass which turned out to be vespers (so I am told) when all the priests chant their offices for the day (not in Georgian chant, as I heard in the mountains in the monastery in Rabenal el Camino --- just before that horrendous climb over Al Acebo mountain in the middle of the hurricane -- but rather a spot of [b]ecclesiastical karaoke[/b][i], as David termed it, more like!)
I was so excited to have him then experience one of the Easter processions -- something that will get its own chapter --- but then it had started to rain again as it can only do in Galicia!!! So all three processions of Friday night were cancelled -- 6pm, 8:30 and 11:30pm. That was the biggest disappointment for me -- on Saturday there was only one procession programmed -- for 9:30pm and it poured with rain all day and night. So he never got to experience one of those spine chilling medieval processions -- he will have to go back........ But it was fabulous having Terence come to Santiago and see the arriving pilgrims, meet some of the characters and good friends I had made along the way and hear the many stories from everyone about their experiences. He was in awe. Had he not heard it from the others, I think he would still not believe that I had actually done it!! -- but now he understands so much better what the walk entailed, what it demanded, who the people are who do it, what it means to those who completed it. On the first day I commented on someone coming past -- pointed out to him that is probably someone who has only done the last 30km or so, and at least 20 of those 30 by bus, and then pointing to another pilgrim coming in who had clearly walked the entire camino; but explaining that each person's camino is their personal achievement -- no two people have had the same experience. Very soon he became the expert in judging the duration and distance the different pilgrims had done -- by their shoes, their clothes, their backpacks, their sticks, the lines on their faces, their bodyweight and mostly by their gait. He even became a good judge of limps -- if they were old limps, recent limps, blister limps or damaged feet or knee limps!
The best was on Sunday morning when we went to the cathedral early for Easter mass and the swinging of the giant butefumeiro -- incense burner -- which they have been doing since the beginning of time -- in an attempt to lessen the smell of the pilgrims in the cathedral --- another bit of showmanship where 8 people swing on a rope on the one end and a giant -- and I mean GIANT incense burner swings on the other end of the rope the entire width of the cathedral. How people do not get decapitated -- well, perhaps they do, but none on this occasion --- is a mystery. But -- because it was Easter Sunday and the first mass of the day, I then met almost all the fellow pilgrims I had not seen before and who were just arriving in Santiago then in time for Easter mass! Oh joy! there was Stephan (who was in Astorga for two days with a messed up knee the same time I was there with my messed up feet -- he then took a bus to Sarria and walked the last 100km only) and his girlfriend Helen, lovely Florian, and Luis and Sergei (the two that talked me the last 10km into Leon when my feet were almost at their worst) and Uwe who walked the camino as a promise when his daughter went into remission with Hodgkins, and Terence -- the young Sydneysider who brought sunshine wherever he walked on the Way --- and C! ---the man I got to know way back in Belorado who was in a wheel chair all his life and forced himself to start walking five years ago --- he finished on Easter Sunday and I was there to welcome him! We cried on each other's shoulders and laughed and totally misbehaved, considering we were in church --- but --- One of those many unique moments that one cannot describe in words.............
On Monday morning David and Marilyn joined Terence and myself and we drove to O Coruna and Terence kindly flew us back -- in 3 and half hours we completed the distance that had taken us seven weeks to walk -- no blisters, no aching joints, no backpacks weighing us down, no mountains to climb, no rivers to forge, no mud to slip and slide in, no wind to fight against, no 50 bed dormitories to sleep in and listen to night symphonies in Snoring in B#, no stones, no stopping along the way to picnic on bread and cheese and sausage and lemons and sugar, no curfews, no ice cold showers, no voltaren cream and Ibrupofen tablets to swallow, no stones, no stamps to be collected in the pilgrims' passport, no closed refugio doors, no pilgrims' menus, no plastic raingear to put on in a hurry and in a gale force wind, no dogs on chains, no biting horses, no eucalyptus forests, no stones (did I ever mention the stones on the way?), no friendly Hola! or Buen Camio! or Buen Viaje! along the way, no packing sleeping bags or washing socks or typing on Sanish keyboards, no wending your way through a conversation in 9 different languages, ----and no looking for the little yeallow arrow pointing the way!!
Getting used to 'real life' again is not going to be too easy --- perhaps just as well that David and Marilyn joined me -- for the last two and half days we could talk at will about our exepriences, our thoughts, our memories, the people we encountered, the places we walked through -- we could start every sentence every moment of the day with something that referred to the Camino. What bliss!
(As Terence pointed out when I said to him the hardest is going to be not to talk about it all the time and everywhere, non-stop, relating everything that happens or is said to the Camino --- he said, rather than the first thing you say, always make it the third thing you say..... -- Good advice! I most certainly will try!)
You have all been wonderful reading and responding to my e-mails over the last 7 weeks. I have often mentioned how heartening it was to get your messages and your msm's--- I so looked forward to finding a refugio with an internet/computer stuck somewhere in a back corner and really felt bereft when, sometimes, for days on end, there was no internet available anywhere --- not to check the internet, not to be in contact with the 'real' world, not to do anything other than read the little messages from all of you! --- and every morning, roughly ten minutes before my alarm buzzer on my mobile phone went off at 06:15am under my pillow, the buzzer gave three short buzzes -- a text message from Terrie! -- I loved those little buzzes -- knowing it is my dear friend with a short little message of encouragement and praise and lots of love. After that I was ready to climb the Pyrenees or Al Acebo or O Cebrero every day! And then, usually just as I was on the top of a mountain and stopping to look back over the magnificent landscape I had had just spent 4-5 hours crossing, another three short buzzes and a little text from Pierre or Nici to say -- Well done! You are great! SO proud of you! xxxx -- almost as if they knew exactly where I was finding myself.
And, although I keep repeating myself, I specifically wanted to thank you all again for that. I know one of you commented that the whole thing seemed a bit like bashing my wall against a brick wall, and then Marc made a very interesting and thought provoking observation. He said that no one really understood -- had an inkling of a notion, could even begin to imagine, or appreciate, let alone envisage what I was doing.
You read the messages, he said, and all the way through you say "Wow!!" "This is amazing!!" "How does she do it? I could never do that!" -- but ten minutes later you have stopped thinking about it and you continue what you were doing and do not even wonder about me busy walking -- and still walking hours later, and then still walking more hours later, because it is just something you cannot even begin to relate to.
Nothing in your own frame of reference can even remotely be compared to someone getting up every morning before dawn, getting dressed in the same clothes you have been wearing for 7 weeks (hoping they dried on the heater before the heating was switched off during the night), putting an 8 kilo back pack on your back, setting off in the dark, alone, in the mist or rain or snow, and walking over mountainous landscapes on stony ancient pathways for the next 8 to 11 hours or until sunset, day after day after day, for 36 days.
Marc so rightly observed that when he, Nici and Pierre and Sacha and Mat crossed the African continent and travelled in a truck through 23+ countries, swept the flies off little mounds on a wooden trestle table in the markets to see if it was rotten meat or fish underneath that could be cooked for their meal, slept under the stars, passed baby elephants along the main road that had been killed by vehicles, washed in a bucket of water, had to pay soldiers to accompany them and drive through the bush to evade wars going on ---( and yes, you are so right March -- -- even I, who 'lived' every moment of those months with you and met you on the way twice for a brief spell, cannot begin to list what you experienced during those ten months) -- no one they have told these experiences to have been able to grasp what it is they lived during those months -- because nobody they know have ever done anything similar, so it is beyond their ken.
I appreciate that what he says is true. One can only imagine something that is within your frame of reference.
So yes, Marc --- I realise when I see some of the reactions of people that hear about the Camino, that unless someone has done the same thing themselves, they cannot relate to what I am writing as I sit here -- and therefore cannot really appreciate or for that matter, be very interested in my story. You are correct -- and I agree with you completely. It will be my next challenge now to tell the story in such a way that people will understand a little of what the Camino is about and will, even if just in the reading, find it -- not like head bashing -- on the contrary!, nor alien and incomprehensible, but rather interesting and hopefully also inspiring. Thank you my angel for pointing that out to me --- before I put my head down and start writing my story, that was probably the best and most practical advice anyone could give have given me.
It is so true. You may well have walked or run a marathon and done three times what I did in a day, but did you do that with a backpack on your back and did you do that for 36 consecutive days? We often talked in the evenings about different reactions from people we knew, and many pilgrims commented on friends saying that the Camino is not a difficult hike for a seasoned or avid hiker. There are much more demanding and gruelling walks or climbs or treks or hikes. The 42km Otter trail, for instance, was mentioned by a South African, as being far more demanding than the 800km Camino.
That may be so, and I grant that you are talking of a gruelling and difficult six days' trekking and I do not think that I would be able to complete it.. But has anyone ever done the otter trail non stop 19 times in a row? -- for that is what we are talking about. It is not so much the physical demand the Camino makes on one -- it is the mental demand that is the test -- and a mental demand, at that, that is made unrelentingly hour after hour, day after day, week after week....
The first night I arrived in St Jean Pied de Port and I had the wonderful good fortune to meet my wonderful fellow pilgrim, Thorsten, before starting the climb over the Pyrenees the following day and setting off on the pilgrimage, we talked about what lay ahead and I mentioned the fact that the furthest I had ever walked, without a backpack, and on smooth tarred roads, was ten kilometers. Thorsten, who had walked the Camino before, then told me --
"It is not a physical challenge. It is a mental challenge. Your body can do anything your mind tells it to do. If you are strong in your mind, you will finish the Camino."
He was telling me what I have been preaching for years! All these years, all over the world, I have been giving motivational talks saying exactly that. Mind over Matter. The Power of the Mind. Of course I knew what he was talking about. In fact, this was the main reason why I was walking the Camino I wanted to do something that would not be easy for me,, that would be a true challenge, that would be very demanding, that would be way out of my comfort zone, that would test my own tenets that I have been pontificating for years. I wanted to do something that would really test my belief that the mind is in fact the most powerful tool known to man. So yes! of course I knew what Thorsten was talking about!
Wrong! I was half way up the 3000 metre Pyrenees mountain when I found that all that jargon is much easier said than done. I had to talk very hard to myself. I had to dig very deep to find the resolve, the courage, the energy and the strength to push myself to go on. Every single day thereafter there was at least one moment when I found a new proof of the power of the mind -- when it was my mind and only my mind that got me through that moment ------ I shall be writing more about that --- about how, all along the Camino -- a pathway which never gets easy, never lets up, never gives an inch, never shows mercy -- and importantly a pathway where one can in fact 'get off' at any moment, at any stage, where one can send your backpack ahead by vehicle, or hop onto a taxi or a bus or a train when the going gets a bit hard -- and still get to the end and claim victory, so where one is constantly given a too-easy choice of continuing or not, how this is surely the greatest test of Mind over Matter, the greatest proof of the Power of the Mind.
And there, my dear friends, supporters and encouragers, is where my little accounts have to end. I have to get back into the real world now -- a little chateau is awaiting my spit and polish -- my first guests start arriving next week -- and much is to be done, after the long winter hibernation, to get it back to a warm welcoming gleaming and sparkling place for people to come enjoy. I shall also start working immediately on completing my book -- and I hope these little weekly messages have whetted your appetite to read it when it is finally published! I have also already had the little local gallery owner knocking on my door and wanting a date for the exhibition of my paintings and photographs of the Camino (Yikes!), so the next few months will be wonderfully busy and exciting!
(Remember -- I dedicated my pilgrimage, my Camino, to my dear friend, Terrie Baxter, and any and all proceeds from the book, the exhibition and speaking will go to the charity of her choice -- which is the Australian Cancer Research Foundation).
Thank you All, for being there for me!
I wish you all a Buen Camino -- a most wonderful journey through life!
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