Category: Friends – Spirit

I am now 5 weeks into my pilgrimage and today was the first time I experienced walking alone (well sort of). The previous night I lay in the small albergue of Cadavedo anticipating my walk the next day. My group was half a stage behind and Aidan couldn’t walk due to an injury. My main concern was missing an arrow and getting lost. When I first started on the northern route, I spent half the time enjoying the coastal beauty and the other half feeling frustrated at the yellow spray painted arrows. These little yellow arrows did not provide as much guidance as I had experienced on the French route. Sometimes it felt like hundreds of meters would be traversed with no arrow in sight. At times I would break out into a cold sweat and feel my anxiety rise. Countless times I turned to Annie L and asked “Have you seen a yellow arrow at all?” She hesitantly replied “No, maybe we should ask someone if this is El Camino?” A few seconds later, A shell would appear on the ground or the spray painted arrow on a pole. It never failed. Have I mentioned that the arrow can be deceiving? I recall walking in an open pasture and abruptly the shell instructed the pilgrim to take a left. Annie and I stepped over muddy, rocky, wet overgrown grass only to be led to a dead end by the freeway. I turned to her and shouted “This is where the arrow told us to go! Grrr” I was walking on the right side of the trail and had seen fresh footsteps going forward. Yet I had failed to see the fresh footprints on the left side coming back from the dead end. Perhaps the most frustrating part about the marker was coming to a section where there was three different arrows pointing in three different directions. My arms would fling up towards the sky in despair. “No I don’t want options, just tell me where to go!” I often said. It wasn’t until Guemes that I learned to have more appreciation for the little yellow arrows. During our meeting in the albergue that night, the hospitalero said “You all are very creative people huh? The northern Camino is meant for creative people and that is why there are so many options.” Maybe he had a point. Regardless, I did not want to exercise creativity by finding my way in the complete darkness.

To my misfortune, I developed an upper respiratory infection that very night. I couldn’t breath out of my nose and my throat began to feel sore. The loud snoring from one pilgrim didn’t help either. I was abruptly awoken at 5:30 am by an argument brewing in the kitchen between a couple of pilgrims. I lay awake until 6 am and decided to finally get up. I quietly retrieved my pack and went into the brightly lit kitchen. My preparation that morning was minimal. I threw on some thick slacks over my leggings, put on my rain jacket, and slipped into my blue Solomon trail runners. I sat on the couch for awhile with Aidan as sleepy pilgrims began to emerge. I walked outside to watch the sunrise. Rays of pink, light purple, and orange lined the horizon like a watercolor canvas. The cool breeze whipped my hair around as I watched the sun glimmer and slowly fill the land with warmth. A stunning view. I went back inside as a pilgrim was fastening his pack to leave.
“Do you mind if I start walking with you?” I asked eagerly.
“Not at all.”

He was tall and slender with a full beard. As we walked, I learned that his name is Lucas and he is an architect from Argentina. He had started walking the Camino not to long ago from Gijon and planned on walking to Santiago. It became quickly apparent that he had a passion for animals, especially cats. He told me that growing up, he would go sleep outside with his pet because no animals were allowed inside. Along the first stretch of the walk, it seemed like we passed a dozen or so cats. He stopped to admire an orange Calico cat that was perched on top of a rock. The cat wrapped his brown and orange tail around his body as he seemingly posed for a picture. Lucas told me that a couple years ago he was driving and slammed on his breaks when he saw a dog with a cat in its mouth on the road. His father sitting in the passengers seat alarmingly asked “What’s wrong?”Lucas parked the car and ran into the street to save the defenseless little animal. Although the cat was badly injured, he eventually recovered with a little TLC. Lucas grinned as he showed me a picture of his cat on his cellphone.

We kept an even pace as we talked about our lives. He asked me what I did for a living and I explained that I was currently a full time student who was walking El Camino for spring quarter. He was very fascinated by my unique program and asked why I thought the college had students do such a thing. I thought about his question for a few seconds and responded
“They say that the Camino will change a person if he/she is willing to embrace change. I’ve personally never done anything this extreme. It’s my first time traveling out of the U.S., hiking, and being entirely alone. Walking the Camino with everything I need in my pack makes me realize that I don’t need much to be happy. I was used to living a life with a bunch of excessive thing-clothes, shoes, jewelry etc. When I get home, I plan on going through my belongings and donating what I don’t use. Walking the Camino has also given me a greater appreciation for simply having shelter and a warm bed. There was a night where I slept on the floor because the beds were full in the albergue. I was thankful to not be sleeping in the street. A few months ago, I wouldn’t have had the same perspective”

Going up a stretch of rocky hills, I began to fall behind until Lucas was completely out of sight. I sat down on a rock as I developed light headedness and tingly hands. I felt short of breath and then developed mild tunnel vision. I began to panic slightly at the thought of passing out alone in the woods. I drank some water and took a few deep breaths. It took a few moments for my symptoms to pass. I trudged on through the trail until I was back along the highway. About 50 meters ahead, I could see Lucas walking slowly and then looking back. I picked up the pace grateful that he had taken the time to wait for me. As I got closer, he looked back and raised his arms palms up and shrugged as if saying “where’d you go?”

We arrived at the quiet fishing port of Luarca around 10 am. This itself felt like a great accomplishment being that I’ve only completed a stage this early twice in my entire Camino. We took a seat outside a local bar and I ordered my usual-zumo de pina with a croissant. Lucas ordered the classic café con leche y un bocadillo. After a short break, Lucas decided to walk an extra 20 km. Although we had only known each other for a few hours, I could sense the feeling of unity that the Camino had created. We embraced like old pals and I thanked him for walking with me. “Buen Camino!” I exclaimed as he walked away. Would I ever see my new Argentine friend again?

I was looking forward to admiring the scenery and a change of pace as Aidan and I stepped on the bus that fateful morning. The sun was shining and we both excitedly awaited our arrival to our next destination. Not too long after we took off, however, I began to feel a strange sensation. Never had I longed more for slowness as I sat hunched over my seat, nauseated as the bus driver whipped around corners at an alarming speed. I tried drinking water and took a few deep breaths. I made the mistake of looking up over my seat as the driver made a sharp turn and stepped on the gas even more. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back in the seat as vertigo began to overtake me. My extremities began to feel weak and tingly. I gathered all of the energy inside of me to lean across the aisle and tap Aidan on the shoulder. “Hey do you have any alcohol?” I half whispered. He looked at me with a puzzled look on his face. It took a moment to think of the correct term. “Like rubbing alcohol? I feel like I’m going to pass out” I finally murmured. I already knew the response and began to feel desperate. To my surprise, he nodded his head yes and immediately began to dig through his pack. Meanwhile, my stomach threatened to expel the little I had eaten that morning, vanilla wafers and chocolate crunch. I looked down at the only thing that would suffice a puke bag. There was no time left to salvage my warm freshly baked chocolate croissant, baguette, ham or cheese. My eyes were watery as I closed the grocery bag and stuffed it between my feet. “Aidan do you have a plastic bag I can have? I’m going to vomit.” He rummaged through his pack and handed me a crinkled grocery bag. I opened the bag ready to hurl and to my dismay, there were a bunch of tiny holes that had punctured the bottom. “Aidan this one is torn at the bottom.” I turned towards my red pack to look for a bag. Time was ticking. “I found one Aidan.” I turned in his direction and saw as he held my barfed-on groceries with his bare hands. “Oh no, I already puked in that bag!” He smiled as he tried to maintain his composure and said “Oh that’s cool.”

In an attempt to console me he said, “You know what they say, you’re not true friends with someone until you’ve held their puke in your hands.”
And this was the defining moment of our friendship. Thank you Camino.

With our hair blowing in the breeze and gleaming sunshine overhead, Aidan and I arrived in the small town of Najera as the locals prepared for siesta. Rugged hills along with a bridge overlooking the Najerilla river adorned the small town, creating a picturesque view. We made our way through the narrow streets in search for a restroom. A small bakery displaying delicate pastries seemed like a promising option. I ordered a milhoja- a dessert made with stacked layers of puff pastry filled with dulce de leche and another pastry filled with layer upon layered of cream. The desserts were neatly placed in a white box and wrapped with a thin silk ribbon.“Perdon, tiene un bano?” I asked the woman behind the cash register. She sympathetically shook her head no. We continued our search and with a little bit of camino magic, spotted our classmate Collin making his way through the town. Together we found an open bar, and I reluctantly ordered a zumo de naranja in exchange for a restroom break. Afterwards, we decided to relax by the river while the albergue opened. August and Annie also joined our mini siesta.

Aidan and I were disappointed to learn that the albergue had a curfew of 10 pm because we had already planned our outing. While the rest of the group checked into the albergue, we walked around checking the rules of other albergues. Exhausted, we threw our stuff on a bench and took a seat. A Spanish lady with graying hair and entirely dressed in black sat down next to us. I called a list of albergues in town only to receive the same response, “Doors close at 10 pm.” A bit discouraged, we walked around until we spotted a hostel; no time curfew! We checked in and made our way back towards the river for another siesta. The cool lush grass was refreshing against the warmth of my body. I gazed up towards the sky, creating figures in my mind with the soft and buoyant clouds. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the calming sensation of the moving river stream. Suddenly, I sat up and asked Aidan where the desserts were. “What are you talking about?” He asked, confused. “ Oh no Anne! left them in the shaded area of the bench we were sitting on awhile ago. I’ll go back for them right now.” I was confident our pastries would still be sitting in the same spot. “Who would think of grabbing a package with unknown content?” I thought to myself. My mouth began to water as I imagined biting into the savory treat.

“Anne! Oh my gosh you aren’t going to believe this!” Aidan exclaimed as he rushed to my side. “ As I neared the bench, I saw the little Spanish lady eating something. I got a little closer and saw her take a big bite of my creamy puff pastry! I stopped dead in my tracks and couldn’t help but laugh out loud.”
“Nooo! Did she see you?” I asked eagerly.
“I don’t think so! I didn’t go up to her and came running back to tell you,” He laughed. While a little disappointed, we couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. I was grateful that our pastries did not go to waste. I was also impressed that little Spanish lady had the courtesy to wait an hour before indulging in our pastries.

Continue reading Inspirational Quotes Found Along the Way

With newly blistered feet, I have roughly covered 130 miles since the beginning of my pilgrimage. Although I have only just begun walking, El Camino has already placed an opportunity for change in my path. Even before setting out for Roncesvalles, I found myself faced with an uncomfortable situation that required me to react carefully, practicing critical thinking skills. After a certain individual tried to scare and intimidate me, I did not start walking as planned. I spent the day torn between feeling the need to go home and beginning what I had spent months preparing for. “What should I do in a situation like this? Ignore the problem or file a report?” Were some questions racing through my mind. After much consideration, I set out from St. Jean Pied De Port to Roncesvalles on April 4th. With grey clouds overhead, a crisp breeze, and the chime of “Buen Camino!” From the locals, Annie and I set out. My excitement to be traversing foreign land carried me along for a couple of miles, but I soon began to feel exhausted from the weight pulling on my shoulders. One thing that quickly became apparent is how much pilgrims rely on one another’s positive energy. Along the way, we met a couple named Linda and Ron from WA state. We began to chat away and it wasn’t too long before my physical pain subsided altogether. It was as if someone had taken the pack off my shoulders. I learned that Linda and Ron were doing El Camino in memory of their son Nate. Linda later told me that she was carrying his ashes and spreading them along the trail. As we neared a river stream, I stood next to her as she sprinkled his ashes over the clear water. This moment was extremely touching. Ron and Linda taught me about being supportive of one another. A good portion of our walk the first day consisted of a strenuous uphill climb. Linda began to have difficulty walking the incline and wearily laid down. She was having doubts about being able to continue. Annie and I stayed by her side encouraging her to keep going. Without hesitation, Ron took off his pack and slung her pack over his shoulder. He walked her pack further up the trail and returned for his pack as she rested. He repeated this many times as Linda gained the energy to continue on. Later that day, the couple got further ahead and I came upon the abandoned pack belonging to Ron. Dragging my feet, I could barely manage to keep myself standing upright. Somehow I found the strength to sling his pack on top of my own and continue walking uphill. Seeing how supportive Ron was towards his wife was powerful because it showed their unity, which is what the Camino is all about. While we may stumble upon negativity, the kindness is what will carry us on. I began to feel better about my decision to start the pilgrimage. Most importantly, I learned that my determination to keep going is greater than any intimidation I may encounter along the way.