The Camino was not what I expected. Instead it was more physically demanding and rewarding than I could have imagined.
We walked out of St. Jean Pied de Port, France before dawn on September 7, and began our 4,200 foot climb through the Western Pyrenees Mountains, and our steep 1,640 foot descent into Roncesvalles, Spain. This day -- and my final rain drenched trek into Santiago 37 days later -- proved the most physically demanding of the Camino.
As we walked through 20 miles of rugged terrain with Griffon Vultures circling overhead, we passed many shrines erected by the local shepherds, like this one dedicated to the Virgin Mary who watches over their flocks -- and hopefully watches over pilgrims as they cope with the excitement of their first adventurous day, the sheer beauty of these ancient mountains, and the physical exertion demanded to pass over.
As we walked through 20 miles of rugged terrain with Griffon Vultures circling overhead, we passed many shrines erected by the local shepherds, like this one dedicated to the Virgin Mary who watches over their flocks -- and hopefully watches over pilgrims as they cope with the excitement of their first adventurous day, the sheer beauty of these ancient mountains, and the physical exertion demanded to pass over.
My children -- Patrick, Maura and Conor -- caught up to me in Pamplona and we celebrated my 60th birthday. Together we crossed the Alto del Perdon Mountain Range, where a series of iconic iron monuments of medieval pilgrims stand. According to legend, pilgrims who made it this far were assured of their spiritual health in the event of death. Conor, a cancer survivor, holds a sign for First Descents, a fantastic support organization for young adult cancer survivors with which he is connected. See https://firstdescents.org
Sometimes I would walk with each of my children individually, sometimes the four of us would walk together, and sometimes I needed to walk alone instead of trying to keep up with younger legs. We'd walk from sunrise until about 2 p.m., then find a pilgrim's hostel or albergue in the nearest village to spend the night. We would all eat together and recount stories from our day, and plan the next day's stage.
Sometimes I would walk with each of my children individually, sometimes the four of us would walk together, and sometimes I needed to walk alone instead of trying to keep up with younger legs. We'd walk from sunrise until about 2 p.m., then find a pilgrim's hostel or albergue in the nearest village to spend the night. We would all eat together and recount stories from our day, and plan the next day's stage.
After Leon we walked to the highest point of the Camino, the Pass of Irago and the Cruz de Ferro. I carried a small stone with me - a brown piece of sandstone with a white stripe from the southern shore of Lake Superior where I grew up. Legend says that when the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela was being built, pilgrims were asked to contribute by bringing a stone. The tradition is to throw a stone here, brought from the pilgrim's place of origin, symbolizing what the pilgrim leaves behind to prepare for rebirth on the last stage of the Camino. At this place, pilgrims for centuries have left their stones, or other tokens of blessings or burdens. Before I left for Spain I sent out an email with a picture of this stone to family, friends, donors and supporters. Many people added their prayers and intentions to this token. I carried it for all, and laid it down at Cruz de Ferro on your behalf.
We finally reached the boundary to Galicia, the region of Santiago. The weather became rainy. The countryside is reminiscent of other Celtic Lands, such as the west of Ireland.
We walked into Santiago on October 15 under a day long 6 inch deluge. Water logged, but happy, we clutched each other. Patrick holds our pilgrim's Compostelas, confirming the completion of our 500 mile Camino.
We walked into Santiago on October 15 under a day long 6 inch deluge. Water logged, but happy, we clutched each other. Patrick holds our pilgrim's Compostelas, confirming the completion of our 500 mile Camino.
After relaxing in Santiago, we took a bus to Finestere -- the rocky point of land on the Atlantic coast that the ancient Celts believed was the end of the world. Beyond was Tír na nÓg - Land of the Youth, the Otherworld. On our Camino I had carried with me a small portion of the cremated remains of our dear family friend, Russell Schreiber, who died of cancer last May. At sunset we released Russell's remaining ashes into the sea at Ara Solis, the alter to the sun. This act marked the end my pilgrimage.