Getting to the Camino
This morning, I sat down to confirm all my Camino transportation details and discovered a mistake in my flight schedule. My mistake.
My original plan was to:
- fly to Dublin on a red-eye
- fly to Santiago the same day
- stay in town that night to rest up
- then take a bus to Finisterre in the morning
Well! Precise scheduling details like this are not my strong suit. I transposed a date on my spreadsheet and gummed up this tidy little plan.
So now I will:
- fly to Dublin overnight on that same red-eye
- stay in Dublin that night at a hotel
- Take my flight to Santiago the next day
- and hope to catch an evening a bus to Finisterre or Cee
Even though the tidiness is gone (and a degree of uncertainty and the need for hope inserted), it’s not that big a deal. My ego is just a tad bruised. I want to spend as little time getting there so I can be there.
In other news!
Training Hike #8
Distance: 7.2 mi
Elevation gain/loss: 1000 ft.
Pack weight: 10lbs
Martha is a new Camino friend I met back in December when I attended the Portland APOC Christmas potluck. She met me at Silver Falls State Park for a hike despite mud, rain, and wind. It’s a beautiful place in any kind of weather!
We had Camino-quality conversations too. My favorite part about walking is the freedom and spaciousness to discuss whatever topics come to mind, to listen, to share deeply from the heart. I want to remember that conversations like these aren’t just a Camino thing. They come from making a choice to show up authentically and vulnerably with others anywhere.
Training Hike #9
Distance: 8.2 mi
Elevation gain/loss: 1240 ft.
Pack weight: 12lbs
Then! Last weekend, I got to stay with my friend Nancy. You remember her, right? She is my right-hand training buddy and Camino soul sister who walked the Way last fall.
When Nancy was preparing and training last year, I was living vicariously (and a little enviously) through her. Now that I’m getting ready, she confesses to the same.
We agreed to do a hard hike and chose Cascade Head on the Oregon coast. I love this hike. In terms of geology, it’s a lot like Finisterre—a tall, narrow landmass that juts out into the ocean—only with more trees. The elevation gain is 1,200 feet up and back down again. And the views? Stunning.
Except when you ascend into the clouds.
At the top, we met a tall, hip-looking woman and talked together for a few moments. Then she disappeared into the mist.
Nancy and I had decided to be clever by leaving one car at a different trailhead so we could walk just one way, Camino-like. What we didn’t plan for was the scary trail closure sign (threatening a $5000 fine and 6 months in jail) that met us as we proceeded into the woods toward my car.
We agonized, really. We’re both first-born big sisters and good girls with a strong sense of responsibility.
“We should probably go back the way we came,” Nancy said.
“But I really want to have our adventure!” I whined.
We scrutinized the sign: TRAIL CLOSED TO ALL FOOT, BIKE, AND MOTOR TRAFFIC. When I’d parked my car, a similar sign specified only a single trail to avoid. I’d thought we were in the clear. Now doubt set in.
“I know this is to protect a fragile butterfly species,” I said. “I guess we should do the right thing.”
“Yeah. We should.”
On the way back down the hill, the tall lady passed us.
“Where did you go after we talked with you?” I asked.
“Oh, I walked down the road a way.”
“Did you see the sign?” Nancy asked.
“Oh, yeah. I didn’t think it applied to me,” she said pragmatically. She was right. It was only the side trail we needed to avoid.
Nancy burst out laughing, “The two good little Catholic girls followed the rules.”
“And this Jewish girl ignored them!” We all laughed.
For me, the lesson is to not make decisions from a place of fear. Choose because of love, because of passion, because of joy. Don’t step on butterflies, of course, but don’t diminish your truth and your calling out of fear.
There’s a big difference between fear and actual danger.
These two hikes really tested my body and allowed me to discover what it’s capable of doing despite the diagnosis. I’ve felt a little sore, but my knees felt terrific. I couldn’t be more thrilled.
I’m getting really, really, REALLY excited for Spain.