On the Camino we take care of each other
Friday Aug 23 Zubiri to Pamplona - 22 km, 35,000 steps
I left my inn at about 8:30 am. All was quiet. No other pilgrims in sight. Not even any dogs or birds or insects.
There was more uphill and downhill today, through the mountains. A lot of the path is a narrow dirt and stone walkway. Sometimes it is lined on either side with hedgerows of wild blackberries, wild plum trees loaded with ripe fruit, fig trees, pear and apple trees, elderberry bushes and wild grapes. All these will often grow towards each other forming a lovely and cooling roof over the path.
Beyond the hedgerows are farm fields, and as I walk I listen to the bleating and lowing of sheep and cows, with the musical accompaniment of the bells around their necks.
Shade alternates with sun. While walking in the shade, you feel cool air and smell the freshness and earthiness of the forest. Once in a while a butterfly joins me for a few steps. Everyone stops and takes a breather and drinks some water in the shady spots, so the shade is where you meet people and begin to form your “Camino family”. The sun is unrelenting. In those areas the rocks are hot, and the air is hot and carries the sweet smell of drying hay.
Sometimes the path has a “wall” of growth on one side, and a drop-off on the other side. The paths in these places have eroded to become quite narrow - only a foot wide in some places. I wonder how much longer these paths will last. It doesn’t look like they can be reinforced very easily. It might require a new path a little further down the slope.
The route is extremely well marked. There are official signs with arrows, and arrows painted on the road and on walls at every place where you must make a choice of where to go. In the larger cities there are also way markers embedded in the road. In the countryside, if there is any place at all that a pilgrim is not supposed to go, it is fenced off. It is almost impossible to get lost. (And if you take a wrong turn, as I did today at a place that was marked with multiple confusing signs, a local materializes as if out of nowhere ((which means he came around a corner on a bike)) to redirect you to the right route).
Wouldn’t it be grand if the directions for our lives were that well marked? But think - how many people do we know that knew or saw their path and kept to it? How many people do we know who arrived at where they are through a series of coincidences and/or fortunate or unfortunate events, or because they did not look up when a clear sign post was in view? How many people do we know who saw their sign post, and chose to go the other way?
I walked into Pamplona today with a couple from Ontario. They were walking the day before with a number of others, when they came upon that German girl who couldn’t continue. Some in their group carried her pack (which at 25 lbs was way too heavy for her to manage), and without the pack the girl was able to finish the day. The couple also told me that the girl was going to take the bus to Pamplona today and have a rest day in Pamplona. I was so relieved when I heard that, and I was so grateful that I had stopped to talk and make friends with these folk - for many reasons - but in particular so I could hear the happy ending to the story of the German girl. This couple, though very friendly and very kind, just could not find their way and had already gotten lost a few times. I tried showing them all the various markers and signs but I think they were just too tired. We entered Pamplona together, and I led them to their hotel. So its true: on the Camino we take care of each other.
Friday Aug 23 Zubiri to Pamplona - 22 km, 35,000 steps
I left my inn at about 8:30 am. All was quiet. No other pilgrims in sight. Not even any dogs or birds or insects.
Where was the fanfare? Where were the lines of people cheering and encouraging me on my way? Doesn’t everyone realize that I am experiencing a once-in-a-lifetime event? Ok, you can walk the Camino more than once, but only once can you walk it for the first time. My innkeeper looked bored as I said thanks and goodbye. What for me is monumental is for the local people a daily grind. So I began my walk in grateful and enjoyable silence, while I make a small fanfare to myself (inside my head) and congratulate myself for completing yesterday and beginning today.
There was more uphill and downhill today, through the mountains. A lot of the path is a narrow dirt and stone walkway. Sometimes it is lined on either side with hedgerows of wild blackberries, wild plum trees loaded with ripe fruit, fig trees, pear and apple trees, elderberry bushes and wild grapes. All these will often grow towards each other forming a lovely and cooling roof over the path.
Beyond the hedgerows are farm fields, and as I walk I listen to the bleating and lowing of sheep and cows, with the musical accompaniment of the bells around their necks.
Shade alternates with sun. While walking in the shade, you feel cool air and smell the freshness and earthiness of the forest. Once in a while a butterfly joins me for a few steps. Everyone stops and takes a breather and drinks some water in the shady spots, so the shade is where you meet people and begin to form your “Camino family”. The sun is unrelenting. In those areas the rocks are hot, and the air is hot and carries the sweet smell of drying hay.
Sometimes the path has a “wall” of growth on one side, and a drop-off on the other side. The paths in these places have eroded to become quite narrow - only a foot wide in some places. I wonder how much longer these paths will last. It doesn’t look like they can be reinforced very easily. It might require a new path a little further down the slope.
The route is extremely well marked. There are official signs with arrows, and arrows painted on the road and on walls at every place where you must make a choice of where to go. In the larger cities there are also way markers embedded in the road. In the countryside, if there is any place at all that a pilgrim is not supposed to go, it is fenced off. It is almost impossible to get lost. (And if you take a wrong turn, as I did today at a place that was marked with multiple confusing signs, a local materializes as if out of nowhere ((which means he came around a corner on a bike)) to redirect you to the right route).
Wouldn’t it be grand if the directions for our lives were that well marked? But think - how many people do we know that knew or saw their path and kept to it? How many people do we know who arrived at where they are through a series of coincidences and/or fortunate or unfortunate events, or because they did not look up when a clear sign post was in view? How many people do we know who saw their sign post, and chose to go the other way?
I walked into Pamplona today with a couple from Ontario. They were walking the day before with a number of others, when they came upon that German girl who couldn’t continue. Some in their group carried her pack (which at 25 lbs was way too heavy for her to manage), and without the pack the girl was able to finish the day. The couple also told me that the girl was going to take the bus to Pamplona today and have a rest day in Pamplona. I was so relieved when I heard that, and I was so grateful that I had stopped to talk and make friends with these folk - for many reasons - but in particular so I could hear the happy ending to the story of the German girl. This couple, though very friendly and very kind, just could not find their way and had already gotten lost a few times. I tried showing them all the various markers and signs but I think they were just too tired. We entered Pamplona together, and I led them to their hotel. So its true: on the Camino we take care of each other.
What was the signpost that directed you to this walk? I wasn't pointing, just cheering.
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