This Thing Called Camino
Artwork left along the route
After getting back on the beach trail and doing my 18km/11.18mi. morning training hikes, with my full backpack, perhaps this is a good time to share what exactly is this thing called the Camino de Santiago. More specifically, the Camino Frances.
There are many routes across Spain, Portugal, France, and beyond.
And all paths lead to Santiago de Compostela.
But no matter where you begin walking, you always end at the northwestern holy city in Spain: Santiago de Compostela. The Way of St. James (commonly known as the Camino de Santiago) is a vast network of ancient pilgrim routes that all converge at the beautiful and very large Catedral de Santiago where, according to long-standing tradition, James the Apostle is buried in its interior. Hence, the importance of this Cathedral to pilgrims of all stripes and from across the globe.
For my part, this “pilgrimage” is an intensely personal and (for risk of repeating myself) a deep dive into my innermost thoughts and what is asking to be heard and birthed. I trust that, putting one foot in front of the other, in sunny hot days on the flat expanse of the Meseta, or rainy Galician mornings heading towards the final destination, I will jot down wandering thoughts that will illumine the way ahead. (But, I’m getting ahead of myself....again.)
I actually wanted to walk the Camino Portugése (643km/400mi beginning in Lisbon), but since I didn’t want the challenges inherent in doing a long-haul camino to also include language, I chose a route that would enable me to speak Spanish (and a little French at the beginning). The Camino Frances made sense on every level. And due to its popularity to the thousands who do the walk every year, there are numerous albergues (hostels) in villages large and small along the entire route. The Camino de Santiago has existed for over 1000 years, dating back to the 9th Century when the remains of St James were first discovered in Northern Spain.
After completing the 800km/500mi Camino Frances, I will walk the additional 89km/55mi to do the Camino Fisterra (end of the earth)
Based on noted Camino author John Brierley (who left us in early July), about 55% of all pilgrims who make it to Santiago de Compostela walk the Camino Frances. (approx. 42% Spanish; 8% Italian; 7% German; 6% US; etc.) Given that people worldwide have been starving for human interaction and outdoor adventure, record numbers of walkers this year are traversing the many routes. Their reasons for doing so are as varied as the number of pilgrims. Some do it solo; others in groups. Some deeply religious; others for the physical challenge. (I believe, by now, you’ve gotten a good sense of why I’m walking.)
“Flat, hot and shadeless” is how many describe the Meseta…the 180km/112mi stretch in the middle
Of the many places I’ve traveled to around the world, and as many physical activities I’ve challenged myself with to date, I was surprised to feel a bit nervous this week. Surely my shy inner child will embrace the absolute newness of strangers (aka: fellow pilgrims) from around the world in the same way I engaged and fell in love with this family of children, in the outskirts of Kathmandu, while the route into the city was blocked with political protests, leading me to spend several hours with this family...drinking orange Fanta, speaking broken English, playing a bit of soccer in the street, and engaging heart to heart throughout this most awesome gathering. And I’m confident the elevation I’ll find crossing the Pyrenees into Spain won’t take my breath away like hiking across Tibetan mountains with a guide (slowly putting one foot in front of the other into the snow and challenged by the thin air).
“Plant love in your garden. Kindness and sympathy flow from the heart of love, and human goodness follows divine realization at every turn in life’s road.”
So perhaps I’m a bit nervous because I’m stepping into something absolutely new; something that isn’t just a physical adventure and its inherent and incidental magical moments of meeting new people and finding common tongues. Perhaps it’s simpler than all of that. In peeling away the layers of my inner “onion”, I’m consciously inviting what’s within (my shy inner child) to come out of the shadows, find a safe space to share, and perhaps, just perhaps, reveal little “aha” moments on how to place one boot in front of the other within my own lifetime’s camino upon my return in late October.
