I was unprepared for the impact this journey would have on me...
Late one evening in 2010, I saw the movie “The Way” with Martin Sheen and Emilio Estevez on Netflix. I had no inkling of what it was about when I turned it on, but I felt compelled to watch it. I was intrigued to find out it was about the Camino de Santiago, a walking route across the north of Spain I had come across on a Google search about a year before and had been curious about.
The Camino de Santiago is a network of walking trails and roads serving pilgrimage to the shrine of the apostle Saint James the Great in the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Galicia in northwestern Spain. Tradition has it that the remains of the Saint are buried there.
Today, many people follow these routes as a form of spiritual path or retreat for their spiritual growth. It is also popular with hiking and cycling enthusiasts and organized groups.
The way, or the route to Santiago de Compostela, was declared the first European Cultural Route by the Council of Europe in 1987. It was also named one of UNESCO’s World Heritage Sites. Since the 1980’s the route has attracted a growing number of modern-day international pilgrims.
The movie, “The Way” features the breathtaking scenery of the countryside in northern Spain. But I felt more. Aside from the natural beauty, I instinctively knew I had to go there.
Those who have walked the Camino de Santiago say that “your Camino starts on the day you start preparing for it.” This was my truth as well.
During the next 12 months, I researched, prepared, and trained for this journey. Due to the time I was able to take off from work, I decided to start my walk in Leon, Spain — about the halfway point (300 Km/184 miles) from Santiago de Compostela. I chose a route that combined a variety of paths, allowing me to experience what the Camino had to offer.
I was referred to a local support group of “Peregrinos” or “Camino veterans” who graciously welcomed me and mentored me while we walked together on the second Sunday of every month. In addition to this, I walked 15–20 miles a month over the course of that year. During the last month, I walked with my backpack weighted with 10% of my body weight.
On a late August evening, after some 15 or so hours of travel by plane, bus and taxi, I arrived in Leon feeling excited and uncertain about what lay ahead for me on this trail.
As I posted on Facebook the evening of my first day of walking, I had never been able to comprehend total physical collapse — something which is within my experience now. I learned on that first day that, as much as I prepared physically, I was unprepared for the impact this journey would have on me.
Day after day for the following 14 days, I gathered my belongings and walked out into the predawn darkness for another 13–15 miles of walking. Each day sauntering through a still and serene universe surrounded by the protective presence of the mountains. At the end of each day, I would arrive at a different “Albergue” in a different town feeling fatigued and hit the rickety aluminum bunk bed like a dead fish.
Each day I meandered alternately through woods and across fields. There were days that I shared the Camino with other “Peregrinos”, passing each other like ships in the night, and days when there was little trace of the scent of humankind. My only companion was the sound of my staff hitting the ground as if an invisible conductor was keeping the beat.
At the Albergues, where “Peregrinos” stopped to rest for the night, a comfortable intimacy develops among strangers when, day after day, we share bedrooms, bathrooms, hopes and fears, joys and sorrows.
I developed a deep admiration for the diverse landscape of northern Spain. I walked through forests so dense that daylight turned to night and felt amazingly mystical. The top of hills around me stood out like islands in the midst of puffy white clouds.
On the 14th day of my journey, I reached Santiago de Compostela with a profound sense of loss knowing this remarkable journey had come to an end. I realized that, with every step of this adventure, I was practicing the art of truly being alive.
Through heat and chill, mountains and valleys, and the gentle restorative mist, this journey was as rigorous as it was magnificent. I will treasure those days and hope to be back someday soon.
No comments:
Post a Comment