On my first day of walking completely alone, I slipped out of the crusty hotel first thing, with visions of a comforting breakfast to warm me.
As I walked León’s streets, I realized there were no cars were on the roads. This city of 130,000 was completely, eerily dead. No buses. No people. The silence and cloud cover made everything feel spooky and post-apocalyptic.
Continue reading “Day 24: Cities, storks, and funk – Leon to Villar de Mazarife”
“Well, a few things are for certain,” I wrote in my journal after arriving by bus into Leon. “One, I really dislike cities and León is no exception. Two, I’m not a cheap hotel kind of girl. Three, it’s very hard to use a toilet when the bidet is so close I bump my knee. Four, a little humor goes a long way. And five, I don’t like being alone.”
After a long night’s rest in Carrión de los Condes, Muriel and I enjoyed a leisurely morning and a good breakfast. Eventually, we headed down to the bus station (which was also a café) with different destinations planned — she to la playa at San Sebastien for a few vacation days and me to León. Taking the bus would help me recoup some miles to reach Santiago on time and catch up with Katrin, Meg, and other friends. I didn’t feel even the slightest bit guilty.
Continue reading “Day 23: Fatigue and blessings – Carrión de los Condes to León”
It’s been said that the lessons of the Camino come in three parts, corresponding to the phases of its physical journey. The first lesson is the body, second the heart, and third the spirit. If this is true, then the meseta is the realm of the heart as the second third of the journey emerging between the mountainous Pyrenees and hilly Galicia.
Over these fecund and flat lands, one has the opportunity to contemplate the inner world of the heart without excessive physical strain. It’s certainly a contrast from the cities and forests. Many complain of the boredom of the meseta and absence of interesting features.
Continue reading “Day 22: Healing the Heart – Fromista to Carrión de los Condes”
Ever since I took that hike to Cascade Head, I’ve been gradually coming out of a year-long post-Camino funk. I’ve been reading a lot and talking to others about the muddled sadness that can follow an intense life experience and the choices that aid in coping and thriving. Whether completing service in the Peace Corps, doing a tour of duty, or ending a long-distance walk like the Pacific Crest Trail, people seem to be affected in similar ways afterward.
Wow!
First there’s elation of having accomplished something so momentous in terms of time, effort, and impact. The achievement creates a glow around the person–especially if the experience ended positively.
What? Continue reading “The post-Camino process and new developments in my life”
Spend 47 days doing anything and you’re bound to forget something
As I think about my 21st day on the Camino, I remember so little, not even Google Images seems to jog my memory. Where did we walk? What did I eat? I’m drawing a total blank. What I recall is straight from my journal.
My first clue? I wrote “rain, rain… and more rain” on the map in my guidebook. Foul weather means walking with one’s head down which must be why I remember little of the terrain. My journal tells me that the path was muddy from the rain and that I was grateful for my poncho. I remember hearing frogs along the canal.
Continue reading “Day 21: The heart’s terrain — Itero de la Vega to Fromista”
To be completely honest, writing this blog and sticking to descriptions of what happened each day is much easier than trying to make sense of what happened after my Camino. But I want to try.
Lately I’ve been reading Jack Kornfield’s book, After the Ecstasy, the Laundry. In it I learned that peak spiritual experiences are often followed by serious doubt, angst, and depression. Reading his wise words is bringing me reassurance that the feelings I’ve had this last year are completely normal.
Almost three weeks in to this journey, walking was a part of me. This familiarity allowed me to notice small distinctions in pace – the body’s speed, how the mind races, and a glimpse into the slow, steady rhythm of a trusting heart. Considering that I often race through my daily life, learning to play with pace as a pilgrim bestowed a number of insights I use in my life.
“As you walk, eat, and travel, be where you are — otherwise you will miss most of life.” (Jack Kornfield)
Continue reading “Day 20: Learning to face the path of your pace — Hontanas to Itero de la Vega”
Every time I think about this particular day on the Camino, I break out into a big grin.
Had Muriel and I been driven, mileage-obsessed pilgrims, we would have missed so much delight, so much serendipity.
Continue reading “Day 19: Happiness from Hornillos to Hontanas”
From my journal:
“Things I’ve lost so far: My SPF lip balm, my utility tool, 2 hair ties. My sticks I’ve almost left behind twice, but so far so good.”
Lessons in letting go
I pared down before I left. I even sent a box home from Saint Jean Pied de Port. However, as I traveled, the Universe divested me of yet more things by accident or design.
Continue reading “Day 18: Letting go — Burgos to Hornillos del Camino”
Finishing is hardly ever a cut-and-dried event for me. I completed my Camino in stages, like layers of an onion, narrowing down toward the essence of the journey. Arriving in Santiago was the first layer, then arriving in the cathedral square, then attending Mass and receiving my compostella certificate, but the walk for me was always about Finisterre. The true end of the road.
I’ll write more about that actual arrival in a later post, but these last seven weeks I have been reading my journal from last year, day by day, remembering as much detail as I can. This past Sunday was the day Meg and I walked out to the tiny spit of land, piles of massive stones jutting out into the Atlantic. There, my Camino journey came to an end.
Jen's Journey - Camino de Santiago 2013, 2016, & 2019 