Probably not my greatest adventure but most definitely the one that left the biggest impression.
The Camino de Santiago was one of those things I’d heard about once. Something that for some reason resonated, stuck with me, and as a result ended up on my ‘one day’ list.
Do you have a ‘one day’ list? A list of the many things you’d love to do, you dream of doing and you’ll hopefully get around to doing? One day?
One day, when… you have time, you have the money, you’re not busy, the kids have grown up etc. That’s how it was for me, always something to stop me getting started, the one day never really any closer than very far away.
And then, not quite out of the blue but at the same time unexpectedly, the Universe opened up a window for me, with a word that had never been a feature of my life before.
Redundancy.
Redundant: No longer needed or required.
Now, there’s a lot I could say about redundancy, not least what it means when the one thing your life is totally built around is no longer there. But I plan on making it the topic of a future blog so I’ll park it for now. Let’s just say, potentially, the ‘one day’ had arrived.
No more excuses I thought, and I was excited.
But before that, common sense had to kick in, at least according to the many people who had shedloads of very well intentioned advice for me. The main message was to hit the ground running and get straight back into another job, even a job I didn’t want to do (what?). And whilst in some respects the messages they were giving me might have had some basis in fact, especially for their own lives, most of what was shared seemed to be fear based: “it could take a while to get another job (especially at your age), the money will run out, you won’t be able to pay the mortgage, you’ll lose your home, you won’t have enough pension”. The list went on and on.
But I didn’t want to live that way.
On the very night I got home after hearing the ‘R’ word I dug out my dog-eared one-day list, and reviewed what was on it. At the top of the list was my sanity project – building a summerhouse, decking and seating area in the front garden (on reflection, anyone who’s ever lost their job, their relationship, their dog, or someone they loved needs a sanity project). This was followed by converting the loft in the house I lived in at the time (one of the main reasons I bought the house in the first place), finishing my masters degree (I didn’t), undertaking training in shamanism, spending a month or so travelling in Peru (doing some of the touristy things such as visiting Machu Picchu and Nazca, and some of the not so touristy things such as hiking Mount Salkantay and spending time with shaman and healers). More travel to the USA was on there and right at the very bottom was hiking the Camino de Santiago.
That’s all I thought of it as, a hike. It remained at the bottom as I set about working on everything else.
Amazingly, while doing all of the other things over a period of around 8-9 months, the one topic that came up again and again, no matter where I was or who I was with, was the Camino de Santiago (and it wasn’t me bringing it up). I took it to be a sign and although I hadn’t set a specific date I began buying things in preparation, including a really good pair of walking boots. I went everywhere in them in order to break them in and they fit me a treat, as we might say in Yorkshire. They’d need to because to get to the end point, Santiago de Compostela, and in the time I’d decided I wanted to get there, I’d need to walk around 25 miles a day. Not simply being happy to complete it, me being me at that time, I made it a bigger challenge. Not only would I get to the end point I would set myself a goal of getting there as quickly as possible.
As it turned out my plan involved more planning than anything I’d ever planned before (I think I might have been overthinking things but hey I’ve been there before. You?). One thing that fascinates me to this day was that I could get all the way starting point, in the foothills of the French side of the Pyrenees, via public transport. I could literally get on the bus, at the stop virtually right outside the front of my house, and travel all the way to a tiny village at the bottom of a mountain range in France using buses, trains and a taxi. Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. Google the place, it’s very beautiful and a great starting point for any adventure never mind this one.
Filled with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, not least because of the many uncertainties the journey before me held, I stepped on the bus with just the clothes I was wearing and a small backpack with a change of clothes and other essentials. So began an adventure that lasted a little over three weeks but which I’ll remember forever. A journey of around 500 miles. (If only I had a pound for every time someone started singing the Proclaimers song when I told them).
The Camino de Santiago consists of a number of ancient trails, with many different starting points and a number of different routes.The route favoured by the vast majority of people is what’s known as the Camino Frances, a journey which begins in St-Jean-Pied-de-Port, a small and picturesque village in the foothills of the French side of the Pyrenees. From there the first stage, for those that choose to do the stage in a day, sees the traveller take a steep and arduous hike up and over the Pyrenees before crossing the border into Spain and descending down the other side and into Roncesvalles. Altogether this particular camino is a journey across the many regions that make up northern Spain. And what a journey it is. Everything from sleepy little villages where time seems to have stood still to sprawling cities with everything that makes them so, resulting in me wishing I could live permanently in the woods.
It’s a journey of many types: physical, psychological, emotional and metaphorical. A journey of introspection and reflection. A journey where some people lose themselves, and many others find themselves. People talked about the camino being a ‘wake up’ journey. That they woke up to what was really important in their lives… and what wasn’t. By the time you get to the end of it there’ll be some kind of life changing message. And there certainly was for me.
A journey of challenging simplicity, to life and the daily living of it. How far will I walk today? When will I stop? Where will I eat and what will I eat? Will there be a bed? What do I do if there isn’t…
It’s a journey of uncertainty, never really knowing what’s over the next hill or around the next bend.
A journey that kicks you out of your comfort zone(s) and connects you with growth, determination and resilience. A journey that can stretch your physical capabilities way beyond what you thought you were capable of, throws all kinds of stuff up both psychologically and emotionally, and tests your patience to the limit. Ever slept in a dorm with 49 strangers? Queued for an hour for a shower (which then turned out to be cold and little more than a drip)? Struggled to sleep because the person in the next bed would win an olympic gold medal for snoring?
And then there’s the beauty. Beauty in the scenery, in the sunsets and the sunrises; in the moments that take your breath away, in the paths that wind their way across miles and miles of open countryside: endless fields of corn and wheat, grape vines and sunflowers, seemingly stretching out to infinity, and through dense woodland too. Through quaint, ancient, picturesque villages, delightful towns and (again) sprawling cities.
And the incredible beauty of people. In the warmth, compassion and kindness of complete strangers, many of whom don’t speak a language you understand but who share a common language of connectedness.
Lots of people, hundreds of thousands in fact, from many different countries and from all walks of life, set out to complete some or all of the Camino de Santiago every year. For some it’s a pilgrimage – the way of St James – for some it’s a challenge, and for others it’s an adventure. Of course it can also be all three, and probably more, for lots of people. As well as an outer physical journey it’s also an inner, psychological and spiritual journey.
Along the way I met and talked with many people who were captivated by the challenge of completing a 500 mile hike but only wanted to do it the once. And then others who came back again and again and again. Not only because they loved to walk, but because of the experiential nature of the journey. The many aspects they got pleasure from and the sense of achievement and fulfilment that resulted from planning through to completion. It was often shared that it’s not about ‘the’ Camino but about your Camino. It’s about what it means to each individual and that there are many, many lessons along the way… if you’re open to learning that is.
For many people, completing the camino becomes a metaphor for life. And nothing is the same as it was afterwards.
Perhaps hiking the Camino de Santiago is something you might want to add to your one day list?
Whether it’s on there or not don’t leave the things you’d love to do until it’s too late.
Drop me a line if you have any questions.
Buen Camino
Update: I’ve now completed the Camino four times, most recently starting in Ireland with a stretch of the Celtic Camino in memory of the Irish grandfather I never new I had until I reached 60. After that it was a hop across to Santiago and a train journey to Ferrol to then set out on the Camino Ingles, partnered – in spirit – by a good friend whose lifelong dream to complete a Camino never happened due to his life tragically ending way before it should have.
