Walking the Camino (Part 1)
Why I Decided to Walk the Camino
One year ago today I set out on a solo adventure to walk the Camino de Santiago, the Frances route. This is an 800km pilgrimage starting in western France, walking though northern Spain ending in Santiago de Compostela. One year ago today, with just my backpack weighing 17 pounds, I set out alone, took planes, trains, busses and a taxi before arriving 2 days later in Saint Jean Pied-de-Port. I really didn’t know what lay ahead, what it would be like walking alone for so long, with so little, sleeping in hostels. I went anyway. I went because I could. I went because I needed some sort of reset. I went because I was turning 60 and needed clarity on my priorities and how to make the best of my final decades on this earth.
Preparing for the Journey
I had prepared myself physically by training in my hiking boots wearing a weighted vest. I had done homework and research to help me plan, anticipating all that I may encounter (from blisters to wild dogs, from heat, cold and rain, to steep climbs and long flats, from cities to countryside, loneliness and crowds). And for the previous 15 years or so I had read books by people who had walked the same and similar routes, delved into their stories. I had spoken at length with the few people I knew who had done it – and their stories inspired me to dive in. To feel the fear and do it anyway. To step away from the familiar and see what happens when I take a risk.
Getting to the Starting Point
The journey to my starting place was riddled with delays, missed planes, a pre-paid overnight in Pamplona that I never made it too, an unexpected overnight in Madrid, last minute transportation changes and a fair does of anxiety. In the Madrid airport in front of the man at the desk in the train station I nearly burst into tears when he told me “no more trains today”. I wanted this man to fix my problem, help me get to my destination safely. But it was my problem, and I was alone in a foreign country. I held back the tears realizing they were useless and would not get me out of this mess. Would I have to sleep in the airport? On a street in Madrid? Should I just plan to start from a different place and miss the first few days of my trek?
Arriving in Saint Jean-Pied-de-Port
Equipped with a few instructions from the man at the train station, and kind Spaniards who pointed me in the right direction a number of times, I did find a place to lay my head, have a good cry, and get myself together. The following day, on Aug 19th, 2024 (my 60th birthday) I arrived in Sait Jean-Pied-de-Port. I met a few other “pilgrims” as I got closer to this destination, one of whom became a friend, part of my “Camino Family” in the weeks ahead.
My First Night in an Albergue
My first stay in an Albergue (hostel for pilgrims walking the Camino) was beautiful, giving me confidence that I was going to be okay. For the first time in my life, at the age of 60, I slept in a communal room with men and women, sharing a small bathroom and popping in earplugs to be able to sleep with all the snoring around me. And surprisingly, it was not bad at all! In my first night I had found kindness, met people who were doing the Camino for the first time like me, and some who had done it before. Shared a meal with strangers with whom I was profoundly connected. And I knew I was where I needed to be.
The First Step of My Camino
My Camino started bright and early the next day after a breakfast and meditation with the hosts of the albergue. With a full bottle of water, my backpack securely on my back, I stepped out of that albergue. That first step meant I was leaving all that was familiar to me, stepping into the unknown. My Camino had begun.
0 Comments