halfway there!

Randy, Jovi, and I are halfway thru our road trip, moving me from Ohio to California.

We've been to the Arch in St. Louis, grandma's house in Arkansas, lunch with cousins in Oklahoma, a Cowboys game in Arlington, and to the beach with my niece, brother and sister-in-law in Corpus Christi.

Not exactly the most direct route to Loomis, California, but worth every extra mile!

This journey reminds me of our walk across Spain, which began exactly 8 months ago today.

We are taking it slow, in order to enjoy the people and the places. We are talking a lot, learning how to communicate our own needs and meet the needs of the other. We are eating tons of good food, from ribs in St. Louis to pizza in Oklahoma to BBQ brisket in Texas.

And we are recognizing that there is so much to learn in the process of the journey, not just the destination!

a necessary mess

I've been too busy making a mess to write much lately. 

But I've been thinking about how sometimes life is messy right before a breakthrough. A move. A new adventure. A growth opportunity. A deeper sense of purpose.

So I'm embracing my mess.

Knowing that it is necessary to get me where I want to be. 

Randy flew into town yesterday. Today we load the u-haul. And tomorrow we'll be on our way!

"home"

I did not want to leave California yesterday morning. I had such an amazing month with Randy, his family and friends. From getting a closer look at his catering business, to house hunting, a weekend at the beach, concerts, hikes, and visiting several churches, I felt completely at home.

Yet I find myself comfortable in Ohio this morning as well. In a place I've made home for the past two years. Walking my dog to the sound of combines in nearby fields. With my family right around the corner.

I imagine this will make leaving at the end of the month both easier and harder. Harder because I'll be leaving home. But easier because I'll be going home.

My hope for the next few weeks is to take time to focus on what I have here. To cherish the relationships, the scenery, the support, and the life lessons that make up Ohio. So that when the car is loaded and we are on our way west, the memories and the gratitude will go with us.  

The Natural World

Everyone in Placer County, California, loves Randy. It is amazing the love and support for him, and us. Everywhere we go, from the grocery store to the high school football game, from church to the brewery, people have heard about us walking across Spain together and want to hear it again direct from us.

It has been so much fun retelling and reliving the Camino!

But also exhausting.

So this morning we escaped the social world and went for a long walk. Just like old times!

It was the perfect day for it. A cool 65 degrees at the start and a beautiful 85 by the end, made all the more perfect by sticking our hot feet in the cold waters of the American River.

The only negative to the whole adventure was the smoke-filled air from the neighboring forest fires. Not close enough that we have to worry about them, but close enough that the air tastes like your face is pressed deep into a wood stove. The smell is especially strong first thing in the morning.

We were discussing the fires yesterday with some friends. About how they are nature's way of taking care of the earth.

It is easy to think of forest fires as a bad thing. But they are actually necessary for new growth, proper nutrients, healthy habitats for animals, and the necessary thinning of overcrowded forests.

(Think about this like purging your Facebook friends list. Eliminating the relationships that are no longer life-giving makes more room and time for new and deeper relationships, and for nurturing the growing relationships you already have.)

Not surprisingly, the problem with allowing nature to takes its course in the forest is a human one. People have moved into these woodland areas. Therefore, allowing the fires to burn out on their own would mean the loss of many homes and communities.

Of course this is just my very simplified version of the issue. But hopefully a reminder that we need to take care of our beautiful earth AND the people in it.

With special thanks to the firefighters who specialize in controlling and containing the wildfires in California!

do the thing

Last night I spoke to our local Lions Club about my walk across Spain.

I've had lots of opportunities to share about my experience, and each time it comes out a little differently. But I think I've finally figured out what I've been trying to say:

DO THE THING

The thing that stirs in your heart. The thing that gives you joy. The thing you long for. The thing you know you are made to do. The thing you are afraid of. The thing you would do if you won the lottery. The thing you would do if you only had one month to live. The thing you are most passionate about. The thing you want to be remembered for. The thing. Whatever it is. Do it. Do the thing.

I know not everyone wants to walk across Spain. And I don't think everyone should. But I know that everyone wants to do something:

Adopt. Host a foreign exchange student. Be the president of the Lions Club. Donate food to the local pantry or towels to the local shelter. Run with the bulls. Canoe down the Amazon. Graduate. Pay off student loans. Learn to read. Join a book club. Protest for peace. Fight for your country. Quit a job. Start your own company. Take a photography class. Bungee jump. Sing. Dance. Fly. Move. 

No matter how big. No matter how small. Whatever it is. Do it. 

DO THE THING. 

That is the message I have to share.

And here is some added inspiration: One year ago TODAY I attended a lecture in which a retired teacher shared her experiences of walking el Camino de Santiago. And I decided that "now" was as good a time as any to do the thing.

Here I am. A mere year later. And now I... ME... I am the one sharing the experience of my own walk. Hoping to inspire others. Like she inspired me. To do the thing.  

 

going nowhere

Kasen: "I hate hiking. We aren't even going anywhere."

You will have to forgive Kasen's attitude. We were "forcing" him to hike on a morning when it was already 83 degrees, with an added 73% humidity. And it was true--we weren't going anywhere. We were simply wandering the trails until we got tired and turned around.

But it made me pause. And think. Because hiking is my absolute favorite thing to do.

How could I love something so much that gets me nowhere?

Granted, some hikes have destinations. The bottom of the Grand Canyon. The top of Mount Whitney. A waterfall or hot spring. But most times I hike simply to hike.

I love feeling the earth beneath my feet. I love the green plants and towering trees. I'm not a fan of bugs but I can appreciate the architecture of a spider's web as long as I'm not walking right into it. I love listening to creatures I cannot see, making their way thru leaves and debris. I love the distant sounds of cars and planes, reminding me that I am my own mode of transportation. I love the space it gives me to think and dream and breathe, or to empty my mind of everything.

So hiking, for me, is not actually about getting anywhere. In fact, I think it is a gift to have no idea where you are going to end up and still be able to enjoy the journey.

Because success is not always having an end goal. Or everything turning out the way we planned. And we don't have to wait to arrive in order to be happy. We can be happy every step of the way, if we begin to see the ordinary moments for the extraordinary moments that they are, even if they don't appear to lead us anywhere. Even if we have to turn around or begin again. Because it is in the dailiness of life that we see who we really are.

And I for one want to be someone who can enjoy life, whether I am going somewhere or nowhere at all.

blank pages

I have no idea what to write about.

It isn't writers block.
It's more like when a person retires and they don't know how to fill all of their new found time.
Or a relationship ends and you have to figure out all over again who you are without that other person.

Writing was easy when I was in Spain. There were new adventures every day. People. Food. Vistas. Pain. Determination. Kilometers that needed walked.
And it felt amazing to have such a clearly defined purpose. In life. And in writing.

But now it feels like I'm trying on all of my clothes (literally and metaphorically) to see what still fits and what doesn't. What still serves me and what I can give up.

And in the meantime I have no idea what to do with myself. Or this blog.

Days 59 & 60

Days 59 & 60: Finisterre

Arriving in Santiago comes with a whole to-do list.

After a couple hours of sleep (3-4.5 has been standard for me the last month), we went first to the pilgrims office to receive our certificates of completion. Then, despite having eaten a 3 a.m. salami and cheese sandwich, found ourselves tremendously hungry. After our first breakfast we then went to the backpack holding area to leave our packs. Feeling entirely out of place without the rest of ourselves. But a little more free at the same time. We had a quick brunch then went to mass to see the swinging of the botafumeiro. Along with a thousand or so other people. Making it feel a bit more like a production than a religious experience.

Following mass we went to the post office to pick up my computer which I had shipped here on Easter Monday, dropped it off at the baggage area, did some shopping, then made our way back to the cafe. Where we had an array of good eats, from cheeses to mushrooms to octopus.

All of these tasks, combined with the crowds of people, left us weary. Not to mention we weren't used to staying in one town for a whole day without being hurt or sick. We wrestled with whether we needed to sit with our discomfort, or move on.

When we ran into the man from Venice, who had helped me cross streams, he said we needed to walk to Finisterre. Another 87 kilometers away. In order to give every bit of ourselves to the journey.

Since that conversation, both Viktor and I had been wrestling with how to make this happen. How much we still had to give. And if Finisterre had anything to do with our lack of emotional attachment to Santiago.

Before chewing our last bites of octopus, we decided to go to the ends of the earth (finis = end; terre = land).

But not on foot.

At least not entirely.

So, without so much as a change of clothes, we hopped in a taxi and headed the rest of the way west. To kilometer 0.00. Walked the rocky path as far out into the ends of the earth as we dared. To watch the sun set over the water. And burn our boots.

"I'm not striving for anything to make me happy any more," Viktor said. "I'm full."

"Me too," I said. "This, the water and the sun going down and the ritual of burning old hurts and empty spaces, was what I needed. My Camino is complete."

All around us people cheered for the setting sun. The end of the day. The journey. The love burning inside us.

Then we went out for pizza.

And because every ending is a new beginning, we slept one last night in an albergue and got up early to watch the sun rise over the trees and the water. Ushering in whatever journey comes next...

Day 52

Day 52: Bus from Ponferrada forward to Las Herrerias - 45.4 km, followed by a 1 km walk down into the village

I have to admit. Not being able to walk has been a real struggle.

I never thought I would miss staying in albergues with dozens of sweaty, snoring pilgrims who get up at 6 a.m. But being in a hotel off and on for almost 2 weeks has become very isolating. And even though I see pilgrims every day I don't feel I can relate any longer to the struggle of early mornings and long afternoons, the refreshing taste of a cold beer or the stomach that is never quite satisfied.

And the absolute worst thing you can do when you aren't feeling well is to be alone, feeling sorry for yourself.

It is easy to think that the Camino was easier when Randy was here. So to put things in perspective I have tried to think of all the hard times we went through together.

There was the time we were so tired and sore that we walked right past the albergue and wandered around town for several kilometers before some neighborhood kids helped us find our way back.

And the time I was mentally exhausted. To the point that we literally sat on the side of the road. For hours. In silence. Until Randy offered to carry my sleeping bag. And somehow that made everything better.

I can't even begin to describe the emotions the day we thought he was going to have to go home early because of a work conflict.

There were many nights we spent rubbing each others sore feet. Shoulders. Heads.

I had to get used to resting every day with just one kilometer to go, because his toe always let us know we were close. And he avoided looking at me for a week after I busted the blood vessels in my eyes.

We both wanted to give up in the Pyrenees. But luckily we didn't know each other yet. So instead of comforting one another, we only laid down in the snow in defeat when alone, and worked harder when the other was looking.

And to be honest, the littlest things can feel insurmountable when you are tired. Dinner presented to you with head and scales still in tact. Your credit card being declined. Showers on timers. And no butter for your toast.

And this is just a taste of the hardships we endured. Together.

While this trip down memory lane does make me feel better about my circumstances, it is also a reminder that I need to keep moving forward. Rather than dwelling on the past or the vision I had for the future.

Because I can't change any of that. But I can choose to enjoy the rest of my time here. Even if I have to do it on a bus, with crutches instead of hiking poles, and a different kind of boot!

Day 49

Day 49: Bus ride, 33.6 km back to Ponferrada

This post could actually be titled "what I didn't tell you yesterday".

Which is that when I stopped to ice my foot, it was because I couldn't bear weight any longer. And even though I did feel better walking 5 kilometers beyond that, I stopped in Trabadelo because it had a pharmacy, which I wasn't expecting for another 50 kilometers.

And while waiting for the pharmacy to reopen after siesta (just because it says 16:00 doesn't mean the pharmacist will actually be there before 16:30), a man came up to me and asked what hurt.

I had just been praying for God to give the doctor/pharmacist wisdom and understanding when this man appeared. He looked Asian, wanted to speak German, but his English was far better than he gave himself credit for.

"Can I look at your foot?" he asked. "I am doctor."

So right there on the side of the road I received a medical exam.

"Look how swollen. No walking for one week. And go to hospital. You need x-ray. You understand? Walk tomorrow and it fracture, if not already."

By the time I had my shoes back on he had disappeared. Replaced by the pharmacist, who gave me a 20-day supply of Diclofenac for 3 euros.

Which is how I ended up on a bus today to the nearest hospital, back in Ponferrada (remember this town?? Where I took Rowena to the clinic!). It took an embarrassingly short 20 minutes and 2 euros to get there.

Peter told me last night about having to take a cab back 20 kilometers because he forgot his passport at the previous albergue. How humbling it was to make the roundtrip in 30 minutes when he had "slogged" all day to do it on foot.

Humbling indeed! It was ages ago when I came through Ponferrada!!

Long story short, I didn't get an x-ray. But the doctor did say I have an inflamed tendon in my foot. He gave me meds to take 3 times a day. Made me a soft cast from foot to knee. And I have instructions to "be more quiet" (don't walk) for "as long as it takes". Which the nurse says could be days or weeks.

The cab driver who picked me up from the hospital said I needed to stay somewhere nice tonight, to feel better. He drove me to the castle, walked me across the street to a hotel, and told the receptionist to take good care of me.

So here I am, across the street from a castle, figuring out my next steps, which apparently don't involve walking...

Days 27 & 28

Day 27: Hontanas to Castrojeriz - 9.4 km
Day 28: Castrojeriz to Boadilla del Camino - 19.2 km

As we continued and completed our walk across the vast and isolated meseta these last two days, I found a new appreciation for the hospitality bestowed upon us pilgrims.

Entering the unique town of Castrojeriz, with its churches and hilltop castle, Randy and I stopped at an albergue to inquire where we could get a late lunch. The woman running the albergue offered to cook for us, and showed us to the dining room.

Within 20 minutes we had a platter of salad and another of chicken, a bowl of chips and another of bread, a pitcher of sangria, and an assortment of yogurts set before us (without ever being asked what we wanted to eat).  

After this feast, and jovial conversations with two men from Holland who were staying at this albergue, we too were ready to call it a day. Appreciating immensely this woman who took us in.

The next day, again traveling the meseta with towns few and far between, we happened upon a man who had set up a fruit stand, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Randy professed his love for the man and his offering of bananas and oranges, asking for only a "donativo" (donation) in return if we had one to offer.

What a great ministry! I thought. To offer nourishment to weary travelers on The Way.

At the next town we came to we stopped at a cafe for a sandwich and soda. Two men on bicycles stopped also. And even though they spoke no English, they chatted with us, quickly and at length.

I've heard that there can be animosity between walking pilgrims and bicycling pilgrims. But I am completely in awe of the bicycling pilgrims. The hills they have to climb and the weather they have to face may be the same as ours, but certainly take a different kind of strength.

Of the bicycling pilgrims I have conversed with, however, they all say it is easier than walking. That we who walk are taking the more difficult path. Simply because it takes half, or less, the time to get across the country on bike.

The two Spaniards I met today are averaging 100 kilometers a day! One called the other "loco" because of it, particularly in today's high winds ("muy malo" - very bad), but they pressed on together.

I think it is the hospitality that everyone shows me that makes me want to return the favor. To embrace others on The Way, no matter what path they choose. On foot or on bike. Going 10 kilometers a day or 30 or 100. Sleeping in hostels or hotels. Cooking their own food or allowing others to cook for them.

We are here to care for one another, after all. To love. And what better way than to show hospitality.

 

Day 21

Day 21 - Detour to Pozo de San Indalecio and back to Villafranca de Montes de Oca - 4.6 km

I'm a very indecisive person. If I can pass off decisions onto others, or the winds and the waves, I will gladly do so.

This morning I was trying to decide what to do today. Head west to San Juan de Ortega and beyond. Or detour to the church, bridge, fountain, river, gorge, and reservoir. With the option of making the trek to San Juan in the afternoon.

Randy refused to make the decision for me, saying he was game to hang out with me whatever I decided. So I said, "If the albergue will let us leave our backpacks here for the morning, we will detour. If they won't, we will follow the Camino."

I asked the hospitelaro if we could "dejar las mochilas" and she said we could pick them back up at one. Which is how we ended up hiking the most beautiful off beaten path, climbing a dam to see the beautiful reservoir, and bouldering our way up the rock face to a cave. That we would probably still be in had we had our flashlights.

Weeks ago we exchanged stories about the fun times we have had spelunking with our brothers. Meandering for hours. Getting lost. Worrying our parents. Elbow crawls, underwater dives, narrow passageways. Memories to last a lifetime.

So when Randy suggested we take our fresh fruit snack up the mountain to the cave we could see off in the distance I naturally said yes.

And for perhaps the first time in three weeks I didn't feel like a pilgrim. I didn't have a backpack. An agenda. Or kilometers to tick off. I was simply an adventurous soul exploring the great outdoors with a friend. Trying not to fall off a mountain.

I needed this "rest day." A change in the daily pace. Time. Counting. And came back to town feeling refreshed.

A very wet snow was beginning to fall. My stomach began to think about tortillas and bocadillas and donuts. (They have the best donuts in Spain!!) And rumor has it there isn't a hot shower for at least 16 kilometers.

So I decided to stay in town rather than walk the 12 kilometers to San Juan. To stay in the "exclusive" (only) hotel in town, take a hot shower, put in several hours of work, and look forward to walking in the snow, refreshed, tomorrow.

Days 12 & 13

Day 12: Estella to Los Arcos - 21.1 km
Day 13: Los Arcos to Viana - 18.6 km

My rest day in Estella was exactly what my mind and body needed. Like a "reset" button to enable me to enjoy the last two days of long walks.

These walks have been all about joy, beauty, and deepening relationships. Celebrating the gifts of God's creation as we walk through fields, vineyards, olive groves, and the occasional--very occasional--small town.

It is interesting to note that the first week and a half we were all about walking through towns, looking for the next cafe so we could have a hot drink in the morning and a cold one in the afternoon. Collecting cellos (stamps) in our pilgrims passports.

The "credencial del peregrino" (pilgrims passport) is our "proof" that we walked the Camino. Each day we get at least one stamp to show what towns we have passed through. The stamps are available at cafes, churches, albergues, and hotels. When we arrive in Santiago we will show our full passports and receive our certificate of completion of the Camino.

But these last two days I have been drawn to the countryside. The longer walks and slower pace. Enjoying picnic lunches and long afternoon siestas in the shade. Chatting with other pilgrims as they pass by and further getting to know the ones I continue to walk with.

Randy was telling me today how different the Camino lifestyle is from his at home--fast paced, filled with family and work responsibilities. My "real life" in Ohio is actually slow and steady, rhythmically filled with walks and food, writing and thinking about writing, just like my Camino life. The major difference for me here is the regular--frequent and deep--interaction with others.

I had dinner with a 27-year-old doctor from Belarus a couple nights ago who said he had found the Camino to be as much--if not more--about the people you meet as it is about the walking. He is an orthopedic pediatric surgeon who specializes in non-invasive treatment of club foot. He realized he had "stopped dreaming", and came to the Camino to begin again.

The time for introspection, for processing with self and others and God, here on the Camino is the perfect atmosphere to explore your dreams and the ones God has for you.

Day 11

Day 11: Rest day in Estella

Estella is an amazing little town with so much love for peregrinos (pilgrims). It was the perfect place to take a rest day.

Randy and I headed out this afternoon to explore the city but ended up following the flechas y conchas (arrows and shells) just like any other day.

One of my favorite things about walking the Camino so far has been not having to consult a map or even really pay attention to where I am going. There are arrows and shells on every street corner, curbs, buildings, benches, everywhere you can think of, to guide us on our way.

Life is so easy when your sole responsibility is to be obedient to the signs spread out before you. Trusting them to guide you in the right direction.

Which is how we ended up following the arrows all the way to the wine fountain in Irache, about 2 km away.

The fountain that has a spout for water and one for wine is a well known stop on the Camino. A little treat after a hard week of walking, to encourage pilgrims to continue, joyfully, on The Way.

Exactly what I needed to inspire me to get up tomorrow morning and walk.

Day 9

Day 9: Uterga to Puente la Reina via Eunate - 9.5 km

Today I experienced an unexpected sadness when my group of friends started to part ways. There have been a few people I have met, or walked a short time with, who I have wished a "buen camino" - good journey - and simply been grateful for our chance meeting. But four of us - Jeff from North Dakota, Alois from Holland, Randy from California, and I from Ohio - have been together since day 5.

Granted that is only four days. But four days of walking together on the Camino is enough to develop friendships for a lifetime.

Leaving Uterga late morning, after a traditional Spanish omelet (eggs, potatoes, and onions) and espresso, the four of us, plus Sylvie from Paris and Fred from Ireland, set off together. Though twice my age, Fred quickly pulled ahead of the pack, not to be seen again this day.

After 2.5 kilometers we came to a crossroads where we had to decide to take the traditional route or detour to Eunate, where we could visit a 12th century Romanesque church, built in an octagonal form. It was 2.8 kilometers out of the way, but what are we here to do but walk?

Everyone but Alois decided to take the detour. We briefly discussed our next stops on the way so that we could chance running into each other again, at an albergue or cafe. And off he went, alone on The Way.

The church at Eunate was gorgeous. Well worth the extra kilometers.

We each took a moment to sit alone in the chapel. I could say nothing more than "thank you" for this incredible journey. Thank you for new friendships. Thank you for all the support I have back home. Thank you for all I have yet to experience on The Way.

Earlier in the morning I overheard Jeff and Alois talking and saying to one another, "We are on the Camino!" It is still just as incredible to us that we are walking as it was 9 days ago.

Church of Santa Maria de Eunate

Leaving the church we walked alongside cornfields on a gravel road until reconnecting with the Camino. We ended up in Puente la Reina where we stopped for a late lunch. Arthur from Poland joined us and said he had just run into our friend from Holland. That he was here in town staying at the monastery. We were thrilled to know we hadn't lost him.

After lunch Randy and I decided to stay in Puente la Reina too. To take time to look at the map and figure out our next steps. How far we should actually be walking each day. And to empty our packs of some weight.

I have a pair of shoes I plan to leave behind. And half a book (the other half we burned in the Pyrenees to get a fire going).

But Sylvie and Jeff decided to press on. To put in another 5k while the days are sunny and warm. As early as next week we could be walking daily in rain.

Watching Jeff and his pack with its USA and North Dakota flags attached walk off into the distance without us made me surprisingly emotional. I guess I had begun to envision the four of us entering Santiago. Celebrating what we had accomplished. Together.

But we each have our own journey. Our own timeline. Our own purpose and calling.

Learning to let go is just one of the many lessons we have to learn on The Way.

Day 4

Day 4: Roncesvalles to Espinal - 6.5 km

As I made my final descent out of the Pyrenees mountains on Friday, I knew I didn't want to hike the 22 km to Zubiri on Saturday like I had originally planned. I needed time to see how my body had fared the 9 km in waist-deep snow. Time to thank God for keeping me safe, and for the opportunity to explore the Pyrenees as I had so hoped to do in the planning of this trip. Time to reflect on the adventure. Time for selah--to pause and calmly think on that!

So I "slept in" on Saturday morning (8:30 has never felt so good!). Took a hot shower. Put on my least sweaty clothes. Went downstairs (I slept above a cafe) and had an Americano (which I think is Spanish for "Americans who can't drink straight espresso") and a "tortilla" (traditional Spanish breakfast - ham and cheese on a baguette). Repacked my bag. Tied my still-wet-from-the-snow boots to my pack. And had my picture taken in front of a sign declaring Santiago 790 km away.

Leaving Roncesvalles, the Camino wanders through the woods (mostly beech trees) for 3 km before entering the tiny town of Burguete, where Ernest Hemingway often stayed. In one of the hotels there is a piano bearing his signature. Unfortunately, because of my late start, I arrived in Burguete just in time for "siesta", so everything was closed. Except one little restaurant where I was served asparagus with mayonnaise, medallions cut from "el toro", chips (french fries), and the traditional bread, wine, and water served with every lunch and dinner.

Wine at midday is only recommended when you aren't walking far. The 3.5 km beyond Burguete were slow and sleepy, and beautiful, taking me along a cow path, through pastures and woods, over streams, with the Pyrenees still visible in the distance.

I then arrived in the tiny town of Espinal, where I was drawn to the Church of Saint Bartholomew. It was locked tight, but right next to it was an idyllic place named "Irati." I inquired about a room. An apartment, the woman said. 25 euros. I would only pay 10 at a hostel, but felt like I deserved an upgrade for the night. I assure you it is worth it!

Not only do I have my own room, and shower, and living room, and kitchen. But I also have access to a washer and dryer! I have never been so thankful to be able to wash and dry my clothes! As I write this I am wearing a dress--the only piece of clothing I have that is still clean--while my sweat and snow soaked clothing gets washed.

Meanwhile, I have taken time to celebrate the adventure in the Pyrenees. Looking up at the mountains in the distance I keep thinking, "I did that! Me!!" It is definitely among my most challenging accomplishments to date.

My legs are a little sore, especially the hip flexors (from yanking my legs out of the snow with every step!), but they actually feel better when I'm walking. So I am confident that I'm ready for the 16 km to Zubiri I have ahead of me. Because tomorrow, once again, we walk!

Days 2 & 3

Day 2: St Jean Pied de Port to La Cruz (mountain top cross) - 16 km
Day 3: La Cruz to Roncesvalles - 9 km

My first two days of walking! I was the last pilgrim to leave my albergue (hostel) and quickly bumped into Randy who was the last to leave his. In these first days of getting used to a new culture, new lifestyle, new everything, including walking with people from all over the world, I am drawn to the familiar. Which is anyone who speaks English. So Randy, a soon to be grandpa from California, felt like a great person to walk with.

We established early that we were here for adventure, beauty, and setting our own pace. The world we live in often sets the pace for us, but here we can follow our hearts, minds, and feet. He doesn't know if this will be a spiritual pilgrimage for him, but I don't think it is accidental that God put me on his path.

5 kilometers into our walk we came to a way marker that indicated we had taken the wrong path. Two routes led to Roncesvalles. The Route de Valcarlos was the easier route, along the highway, that we were told to take and had planned to. The Route de Napolean that we were on went over the Pyrenees and wasn't recommended in the winter due to snow.

Since we were here for adventure we decided to go another 5k instead of turning around. But the hostel we arrived at in 5k was closed for the season. At this point we were committed to the adventure, and had yet to see snow, so we pressed on.

Despite the fact that we were walking "together" we rarely walked side by side. Me usually 10 if not 20 minutes ahead. Though any time there was a fork in the road I waited for him so we could decide together our next steps.

As night came upon us we came to a cross on a mountain. A memorial of sorts. And set up camp.

Randy, an eagle scout, was more than prepared. With a tent, cook stove, dehydrated dinner, we camped in style. The wind gusted up to 50 miles in the night, adding to the adventure. So we waited until 9 am when the winds subsided to begin our trek the next morning. When we immediately ran into snow.

There is no way to describe how difficult it is to walk up, across, and down a mountain that is waist deep in snow. But I will tell you it took 10 hours and all our strength to go those 9k. I never feared for our safety, but I did worry that we might spend another night on the mountain or have to hike it in the dark.

With 4k to go I asked God to bring us into Roncesvalles by 8 pm in time for mass. Which, at our pace, did not seem remotely realistic. But we made it. And I received a blessing of safety from the priest. So I guess you could say I ended both nights at the cross!

That first night I thought I might be sad if this was the wildest adventure of my journey. But by mid afternoon of the second day I realized I would be perfectly content to stay on the "right" path for the rest of the journey.

Sometimes you have to take the more difficult route first in order to appreciate the "right" path later.

Though I wouldn't give up my adventure in the Pyrenees for anything!

Day 1

Happy Ash Wednesday/ first day of Lent!

My plane landed in Madrid at 830 this morning. I then spent an hour searching for somewhere in the airport to buy a bus ticket. Another hour passed eating breakfast then I was on the bus to Soria. From there I boarded another bus to Pamplona where I arrived at 330 pm. The next bus didn't leave until 6 pm, but I only had 90 minutes to go to get to St Jean Pied de Port, France, so I grabbed a cab instead of waiting.

As soon as we left the city my driver pointed out the window and said, "el Camino." It was my first glimpse of the road I would travel. I was speechless. And humored by the fact that I would be back here in a few short days, only on foot.

We traveled through beautiful country and then the snow covered town of Roncesvalles. Yes, snow. And lots of it.

As we continued to wind our way through the Pyrenees the fog grew thick and the drizzle turned to all out rain. We saw a woman walking in the same direction we were traveling. Which was odd. Most people walk west, not east.

My driver, who did not speak English, indicated that he would stop if I wanted. I wanted. The poor woman was drenched.

She was French and didn't speak Spanish or English. And yet I understood her perfectly. Though my driver did not. Perhaps it is the "magic" of The Way. I told her she was going the wrong way but she didn't have far to go.

Driving on we passed another soaked walker. I couldn't help thinking it was stupid to walk in the snow covered mountains in a rain storm. And yet it is top on my list tomorrow.

If I did have any second thoughts about walking this first leg they were put to rest when I got car sick just as we entered St Jean. The curvy roads were too much for my stomach and I will not face them by car again!

A memorable start to the journey!

Tomorrow we walk!

prayer

"I will carry your walk in my prayers
if you carry my prayers in your walk."
- Suzie

In its simplest form, the "purpose" of walking el Camino de Santiago ("The Way of St. James") is to arrive at the cathedral in Santiago where St. James the Apostle is buried in order to ask for miracles, forgiveness, or receive other answers to prayer.

There is a statue of St. James at the cathedral and people literally embrace it, laying their heads upon his shoulder and their burdens at his feet.

I can't wait to embrace the apostle!

But...

I don't think God is asking me to walk 500 miles so that He can forgive me. Or answer me. Or heal me.

(He might be asking me to walk 500 miles so I will realize I need to forgive myself, but when it comes to His forgiveness I don't even need to get off the couch!)

To be honest, I'm not sure why God wants me to walk across Spain. Maybe it's not for me to know. At least not now. But I do know that I plan on saying a million prayers during the 40 days of Lent. And I would love to carry your prayers with me each day as I walk.

I hope that as we walk across Spain together you will take advantage of the comment section at the end of each blog and include your prayer requests and praises so that we can all pray and celebrate together.

Because I do believe in miracles and answered prayer. And I do believe they will happen, to us, during Lent.

What I would love more than anything would be for ALL of our prayers to be answered BEFORE I embrace the apostle. So that the only prayer left to say is "Thank you."

Thank you for Walking With me. Thank you for Walking With us. Thank you for hearing our prayers.

don't forget to start

"Whatever you do--for heaven's sake don't forget to start." - John Brierley

I spent all day yesterday mapping my route across Spain, from St. Jean Pied de Port to Santiago. What routes and detours I want to take. Castles and cathedrals I want to see. Hostels and hotels I want to bunk in. 

Of course it is just a guide, not a rule. 

Because who knows if the weather along the Route de Napolean will even allow me to hike the Pyrenees that first day. Maybe I'll feel inspired in Pamplona and want to spend some extra time writing instead of walking. Will I feel up to the extra miles in order to detour and see the world heritage sites near Azofra? 

I suppose, in this case, it is a good thing that I'm not much of a planner. That being flexible about where the day takes me is more natural to my disposition than challenging. 

But it also felt important to Walk With a plan, so I can see when I'm ahead and when I'm falling behind. I do, after all, have to come home eventually. 

The really important thing at this stage, however, is simply that I start. I have my plane tickets. I'm in the process of packing. And sometime that first week in March I'll take my first steps along el Camino de Santiago.