Thoughts and some of the harder bits!

What were the lowlights!?

It would be a mistake to imagine that the whole of the 34 days of walking to Santiago were a picnic.  There were some quite hard bits.  When you completely run out of energy for example, that is quite hard.  I developed a reputation by some in my party for becoming prostrate on arrival at an Albergue.  There’s nothing so satisfying as lying down on a bed when you’ve been walking all day and resting your feet on the bunk above to allow the blood to drain out of them somewhat!  I was adept at getting my stuff out of the backpack whilst lying like that, and to an Indian gentleman’s amusement explained that I was simply being energy efficient!! He was so impressed, he wrote it down.

Heatstroke or something on Day 2!

There was a great deal to feel satisfied by when I reached Roncesvalles  - it had been 16 or so miles up and over the Pyrenees, so setting off for day 2 with much fewer challenges relatively speaking should have been OK.  It was really hot that day, and we had several miles of walking at the end of the afternoon that were over small hills and then back down again which was quite wearing.  We also walked around a cement works which was definitely not attractive. 

We arrived at our destination which was a village called Larrousuana to find the Albergue full.  They had thought they had one bed which I was going to have, but unfortunately (or so it seemed) it was already taken.  So all three of us got accommodation at two different places.  I’m so glad I was staying in the house where I was.  I met Chris and Mu for a dinner, and during the starter felt unwell, and left the table which was just as well as I was violently sick.  I went back to my lodgings and was sick again in the early hours of the morning.  Getting out from what I am sure would have been a top bunk does not bear thinking about. 

The next morning, Chris and Mu came to get me at the appointed hour of 7.00am and patiently waited quite a long time for me to get going. The walk to Pamplona was relatively short – 12 miles or so, but it seemed much longer.  I don’t remember much of the route, apart from the last 5 miles which were flat and through the suburbs of Pamplona and felt interminable! There were regular seats along the way, and a fair selection of them were tested!  However 2 hours comatose on my bunk followed by 10 hours sleep had some positive effects.  I wasn’t feeling great the next morning, but did make the day!  This was clear evidence to me of the benefits of supportive walking companions.  I’d not have got to Pamplona without them!

Ironed feet!

Walking to Santa Domingo de Calzar was a long day. It was day 9 and we were getting into our stride a bit, and had a day where we walked over 20 miles.  It was also an interesting town to visit, and so we walked a bit during the evening too, all of which adds to the toll on the feet.  Climbing up the stairs in the hostel had prompted a lovely Irish chap to comment that my gait downstairs suggested that my ‘big end’ had gone – very helpful, and definitely remembered by those who would like to tease me!

Anyway, the next morning was really hard work.  Usually after 10 minutes or so my feet would loosen up and allow me to get going.  Not this morning.  It felt as though my feet had been ironed.  And the camino path was sandy but with stones laid on it and so walking on those meant that you had to adjust your feet for every step.  The first couple of hours that day was really hard going.  We stopped and a foot massage helped a bit, but it was not until lunchtime that I was comfortable walking.  I did find myself thinking that I was supposed to be enjoying this, and perhaps was not, but such negativity does not last, and you realise that in the mix of things it’s just a minor irritation.  Like all hitting your head on the wall experiences, it’s good when it stops.

Walking along the Roman Road

This was quite a short day’s walk.  We had walked along beside a road on a path called a ‘senda’ created to link parts of the Camino where roads had taken the track.   This then gave way to what was described in our book as a Roman Road.  Fortunately it had been covered over with sand and gravel so was easy to walk on.  It was also pretty flat.  So, it should have been an easy walk.  However, what they say about the Roman’s building straight roads is certainly true, and it continued into the distance unrelentingly.  The fields that bordered it were large, sometimes wheat, sometimes sunflowers. But when you walked alongside them, each seemed interminable.  It’s really interesting that for the three of us, and for other pilgrims we talked to, this was a really hard day’s walking.  It all goes to show that the mental effort can be just as great as the physical challenges. 

When we got to our destination that afternoon, I had a leg massage which was lovely.  The hospitaliero who gave it to me was really good, and it certainly made a difference to my walking after that.  She recommended tighter socks as a result of seeing the remains of my blisters.  Whilst I was having the massage there was a great thunderstorm, which had definitely spooked some of the people who had been walking this flat ground whilst the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled.

What have I learnt – about myself?

I had never given myself any serious physical challenges in the past.  I’d been on walking holidays, and climbed the odd mountain, but I’d never had to keep going for 34 days.  So now I know I can do that and cope with the odd pain from blisters or ironed feet.  There were times in the first 10 days when I would say resolve was indeed required, but after that there was so much to enjoy about the process, and watching the changing landscape certainly enhanced and reinforced the pleasures of the walk.

I suppose I might sum that up as reinforcing my view of myself as being someone who can do things that I set my mind to.  I was certainly aware, though, when the German girl left after a short time that I might also have given up if I had not had personal support. 

The experience also reinforced what I knew about myself in that I like to do things properly.  There was a level of smug not altogether attractive satisfaction about starting at St Jean Pied de Port AND carrying my bag all the way that allowed me to feel superior to some who had their bag (trunk) (there I go again, you see) carried all the way.  They missed out on an interesting discipline, but many who joined later in the walk would have had the restrictions of holiday to contend with that I would normally have had too!

What I have also learnt?

This Camino starts in France and ends in Santiago.  As a metaphor for life, it works quite well, in that you start and don’t go back.  So it’s really important to take in the place that you are when you are there.  You only see it in the light that is happening at the time.  Places where we stayed we might see at sunset and at sunrise too, but most of the places you see in the circumstances that are happening when you are there.  So it’s really important to drink in the environment as you pass it – the pretty bridge, the long views, the mist in the morning and so on.  I’d like to think I am quite good at living in the present, and six weeks doing just that does have a powerful way of reminding you of that fact. 

There’s a personal openness that applies to many people on the Camino, but in an interesting way.  You find out quite a lot about them in terms of their motivation or personal interest,  but you often know nothing of their family or work situation.  This is really refreshing – perhaps we spend too much time being our profession or job, rather than being us.

For most of my life I have had very little ‘routine’.  My jobs have generally been in different places with different people most of the time.  The Camino is all about routine – what happens each day is broadly similar though with the important difference of location.  For me, this was quite sufficient to make each day pleasurable, so does this mean I can do routine in my daily life?  I’m not sure – and having come back, I haven’t adopted a routine to structure my day.

Every day on the Camino there is a clear outcome – 15 miles walked, two churches visited, a bridge drawn, my diary written.  However this is a different measure of the same activity that I described above in terms of living in the present.   In general in my life I think outcomes have been important, both at work and socially.  There is a tension between being and doing, but after this walk experience I am not as convinced that they are as clear opposites as they are often presented.  Are they perhaps necessary parts of a reflection on life –the yin and yang?

One part of the Camino that cannot possibly be ignored is the fact that it is marked throughout by Catholic Churches.  Some of them are incredibly decorated with gold dripping from altars around the church. The opulence of these, and the contrast that they must have been to the poverty of the lives of the villagers around, I find very hard to reconcile.  To my taste, they are not particularly attractive; one fellow traveller commented that she had seen the hole in Peru where most of the gold came from, and they did rather seem like trophies to me rather than beautiful structures.

Others are much plainer, and certainly more to my taste.  Many of them were 11^th or 12^th Century, if not the complete fabric now, then with significant elements of these buildings still standing.  In some cases, the structure of the building was impressive and beautiful; in others the statuary and stone work were remarkable – varied, skillful and sometimes intriguing.  The reflection of the effort of so many people to create these buildings is awesome and reflects the financial investment that the church had made in building them too. I imagine that these were designed to indicate the heavenly life to come and make more bearable the rigours and hardships of medieval life.  They also serve to remind you that you are quite small really.  As you look up at some of the structures, not just the cathedrals, pilgrims at all times must have felt awed by the buildings which reflect the work of so many, and the money too.

For those who were Catholic, there was clearly a different experience from mine.  We attended a number of pilgrim masses which generally had a core attendance of a handful of local people – did they really go there every day?  Usually there was a prayer especially for the pilgrims. The service we went to in Pamplona was rushed and gabbled by the priest – it felt as though he was wanting to leave for another appointment.  Sometimes the service was a great experience – as at Rabanal. The familiarity of the process clearly has a merit about it, and there is something about the constancy with which those words have been spoken in that place.  Somehow the speed with which a parishioner usually turned the lights off afterwards suggested that spirituality was not at the core of the experience. 

Would I do it again?

I probably would, not all of it, but certainly to walk from Leon would be no hardship.  There are other routes than the French way, and perhaps that would be worth trying.  However, there are so many other places in the world to go and walk, and not to have to commit six weeks to the activity.

One of the real benefits of this walk is that the accommodation is plentiful, and generally does not have to be booked beforehand.   As a result you do not have to define exactly where you will be every night.  That freedom makes the walking much more enjoyable, and for that reason doing the walk or some part of it again would be worth visiting.