On The Way

I´ve just finished my fourth day of walking and write this from Pamplona.  The physical part is challenging but (thankfully!) nothing I can´t handle.   I´m pacing myself and not trying to push too hard or too fast. 

The community spirit is incredible.  At pilgrim meals (restaurants often offer special ´pilgrim menus´) you hear Spanish, Italian, French, German, Korean, Japanese, as well as English in the accents of Brits, Australians, and Americans, though Americans are definitely a minority.  Yet every pilgrim offers the one phrase we all share, ¨Buen Camino!¨ When you run into someone you met at a meal or in one of the refugios or walked with, you light up like you just met your long lost brother or sister. 

I bonded instantly with Kari from North Carolina, who is walking to mark her 50th birthday.  Sadly, we will be splitting up tomorrow because she has a much tighter schedule than I do.  But it has been a delight to walk with her for the last 3 days, and we are sharing a hotel room in Pamplona tonight.

I wish I could upload photos, but since I don´t have that capacity, I will just offer some verbal snapshots--

• the sound of the bells that the Basques tie around their horses necks as we climbed out of Orisson the second morning
• the fat black slugs that crawl across the path every few feet, as well as the snails with their shells of translucent amber which are rarer but very beautiful
• wildflowers blooming along the path--scarlet poppies, pale pink primroses, violet foxglove, and others that are white and yellow and blue whose names I don´t know
• the cheery greeting of ¨Buen Camino¨from a woman in the window of a house in one of the many small villages we pass through
• crowding into a cafe after a couple of hours of walking to order breakfast or a snack
• sitting around a table in village bar drinking the local wine or beer and sharing stories of our walk that day, or why we are doing this crazy thing at all
• the blessing of the peregrinos at the pilgrim mass in Roncesvalles the second night, in an ancient church where pilgrims have been blessed on their way for hundreds of years
• walking through forest mists, where pilgrims emerge and then disappear in an eerie fog
• being greeted by a horse that crossed the path, its bell gently clanging, and paused a moment to nuzzle my hand
• sheep clustering on a hillside of impossible greenness
• the windowboxes and pots of geraniums and tulips in the windows of houses 
• the smell of garlic frying as we wind our way through a small village

Just four days in and it is rich beyond measure.

My Tribe

I travelled today from Bayonne to St Jean Pied de Port, the traditional starting point for El Camino Frances.  Standing in line to buy my ticket for the bus to St Jean I could identify pilgrims in line with me.  Then when I loaded my pack onto the luggage compartment of the bus, I could see it was full of packs, as the bus was full of pilgrims.

And I had this sudden sense of recognition--this is my tribe. For the next few weeks, anyway, these are my people.  It was a profoundly moving moment for me.  The American woman in front of me on the bus, traveling with her husband to celebrate their 40th anniversary, asked in concern and some admiration, youre travelling alone?  And I looked around and said, Oh no, I travel with all of you!

Almost...

I am in Bayonne, not only navigating around this French town, but around this French keyboard.  (Can NOT find the apostrophe and for some reason you have to hit shift for the period)

I had a lovely time with my friend Diane--4 days in Amsterdam and 2 days in Bruges, Belgium, a lovely little medieval city.  I totally fell in love with Bruges, but all the time we were there I was so conscious that the time to start El Camino was drawing closer.  I felt nervous (still do!) but I also felt God kept sending me reassuring messages.

Diane lit a candle and said a prayer in a lovely Catholic church, which so moved me. Then in that same church there was a plaque that welcomed pilgrims from faraway. It seemed to be just for me!  The next day we met a Canadian couple that had walked just a little of El Camino and raved about what a great experience it had been and how they were planning to return in the fall to walk more.  Sunday night we worshipped in a tiny English speaking Anglican church.  The text was the road to Emmaus, and the lovely prayer offered by one of the members used the refrain Lord Jesus, walk with us.

So with these divine encouragements lifting me up, I am anxious to start.  Tomorrow I travel by train to St Jean Pied de Port and Wednesday I begin.

I'm off

I leave to catch the first of the 3 planes that will take me to Amsterdam in just a little while.  Bags are packed and I'm ready to go.  Nervous, excited, thrilled, terrified, disbelieving, but ready.

I spend a week in Amsterdam and Bruges with my dear friend Diane before making my way down to St. Jean Pied-de-Port to begin El Camino.  I think the word "surreal" is wretchedly overused, but it does capture something of my incredulous disbelief that I am going to walk 500 miles in Spain!  My daughter described me in her blog as "awesome with a side of crazy."  I don't know about the awesome, but I plead guilty to the crazy.

So at the moment "What was I thinking?" is competing with "I am so lucky!"  In the end I am confident that "I am so lucky" will come out victorious, but for the moment I have butterflies the size of 747's!  

Making Every Ounce Count

I leave in a week and a day.  After planning, dreaming, fretting, hoping, reading for nearly five years, it's down to a week and a day.  All the important stuff is (I hope!) figured out, but there are many small decisions yet to be made.

I'm in the process of packing my bag, trying to figure out what to take and what to leave behind.  The maximum weight for my backpack is 14 pounds, not including food and water.

 This is not very much, and I will quite literally be weighing EVERYTHING that goes in.  I bought a postal scale and every single item that goes in is evaluated on the basis of how much it weighs.  Shorts for sleeping--what pair is the lightest?  Book for journaling--what weighs the least?  Deodorant and toothpaste--smallest possible size.   Guidebook--will razor out the pertinent pages and leave the historical/preparation/spiritual parts behind (the book love in me is appalled, but it will save several ounces.)  Solid bar soap that can be used to wash hair, clothes and body, so only have one thing instead of three to carry.

The thought of going seven weeks without anything to read made my eyes cross, so I bought an e-book reader.  After agonizing for weeks over Kindle vs. Nook, I decided on the Kindle largely because it is lighter than the Nook.  I am taking (not ugly) Crocs instead of Teva sandals to wear in the evening because they are lighter.


These are my not-ugly Crocs, which can also double as shower shoes.








 I've already decided to take only two pairs of pants, one of which I will be wearing.  Now I need to decide if I can take three short-sleeved shirts or just two.  Two tank tops or three? The extras only weight 3 or 4 ounces each, but you take 4 things that weigh 4 ounces each, and you have an extra pound.

All this agonizing over every ounce makes me thing about the unnecessary stuff I carry around.  Petty grievances.  Old wounds.  Prideful assumptions.  Impatient arrogance.  All of these weigh a lot, and need to be left behind.

Father Edward Hays offers this wise poem about packing for a pilgrimage.  I  hope I am wise enough to take its guidance to heart.

A Pilgrim’s Suitcase Psalm

Edward Hays

O God of departures, Holy One of the Exodus,

Spirit Guardian of all roads and routes,

I am about to depart on a new adventure in life,

and my bags are packed with both dread and delight.

The old is known, comfortable, safe and secure;

the unknown is threatening and danger-filled.

O God of travelers and holy emigrants, help me:

Besides anticipation and appreciation,

What else should I pack?

Comfortable clothes of change—nothing starched—

Yes, I understand, and a change of shoes.

Comfortable hiking shoes for exploring with ease

the strange, unknown, wild lands ahead.

Yes, and also my dancing shoes so that with delight,

I can celebrate the feasts I come upon…

One dream vision as my map, and the compass of prayer

when fog hides the stars or eclipses the sun.

One medicine kit with patience tablets for delays,

dried memories for snacks along the way

and bandages for a sprained spirit after a fall.

God of departures and homecomings, may I go forth with

the adventure-hungry spirit of an explorer,

the faith of one homeward bound to you

and with you, Beloved Companion,

as my navigator and my guide.

 

Giving My Inner Control Freak a Vacation

I'm pretty much a control freak. I go around double-checking on details and making sure all the i's are dotted and all the t's are crossed. 

But when I travel, my control freak really takes over.  I plan EVERYTHING when I travel.  I don't go from here to North Platte without making reservations.  Heck, I don't go from here to Lincoln without reservations.  I know when I'm leaving, where I'm going, how I'm going to get there, and my ETA.

Whenever I hear someone say that their idea of the perfect vacation and just drive with no idea of a destination or where they will spend the night, it literally gives me the shivers.  It sounds like a nightmare to me!

But I'm giving my control freak a vacation while I'm on El Camino.  I have a reservation for the first night, at Orisson, which is necessary because it is the only place to stay if you don't plan to do the Pyrenees in one day (and I don't!) The next night I'm meeting an internet friend in Roncesvalles for dinner.   But beyond that--no plans.  I have to meet my husband in Sarria, Spain, on June 21, but from May 13 to June 21, nothing planned except to get up each morning and walk until I'm tired, then stop walking and rest.

A couple of weeks ago I got out my El Camino guide book and started making plans, thinking about where I could stay each night, how far I could reasonably walk, where the pilgrim refugios were located and what were the sights along the way.  Then I realized what I was doing.  So I closed up the book.  I'll take the guidebook, of course, and look at it each day, so that I know what my options are, but I am not going to plan any further ahead than a day at a time.
 -
This is a deliberate spiritual decision for me--to open myself to the gifts and challenges each day will bring.  To just be in the moment.  I think it will either be transformative--or it will drive me absolutely around the bend!

 
(By the way, every day up to starting El Camino is carefully planned, as is every day after we finish.  I can only take so much lack of structure!)

13 Miles!

I walked 13 miles today!  I walked with a pack holding about 3/4 of the weight I will carry on El Camino. 

Since I will need to average 12-13 miles this was a significant milestone in my training.  I was ridiculously anxious--the furthest I had previously walked was 8.6 miles.  What would 13 miles feel like?  What would I feel like?  I was pretty sure I could make it, but I still felt anxious.

But I MADE IT!  Not too speedy--4 hours and 30 minutes, including breaks. My feet ache (but no blisters!), my legs ache,  and since I burned 2400 calories, I'm famished. But I MADE IT!

If I weren't so tired I would do a Rocky fist pump.