... To Santiago de Compostela, Part III

The morning of our anticipated arrival in Santiago, we awoke early, our excitement tangible in the form of boosted endorphins and renewed momentum.  We had slept in a town only 5 kilometers from the cathedral, planning to arrive early enough in the city to breakfast and receive our official Compostelas, the certificate of the Camino, before attending the pilgrim mass at noon.  One last time, we headed into the dark together, and didn't look back.

Love Them

Percebes

As we began our descent off the hill and into Santiago de Compostela, I did my best to be present for each final step.  I knew enough to know I'd fully digest the experience later, as I'm much more an internal processor than external.  I was however, able to fully adore each of the people I was blessed enough to walk with, each final step my legs were able to take.  I was able to marvel over my relative lack of pain, and how very strong I felt.  I was even, at least for a few moments, able to appreciate the recent hilarity of the noises coming from our roommate the evening before, a camino miracle in itself.

I finally, finally, after nearly 6 weeks, arrived in Santiago de Compostela.  We sat down for one last breakfast together, and took stock of how far we'd each come.  We were then greeted by a most friendly Nicola at the cathedral, where we took our photos.  Photos with our cameras certainly, but also with our hearts.

Orujo

The following few days were filled with celebration, and laughter, and phenomenal Galician tapas.  There were reunions with friends from St.Jean, reunions with camino crushes, and even, unfortunately for some of us, reunions with the occasional camino creeper.  For many of us women, there was the purchasing of mascara and European skinny jeans, because oof, it's been since July that I've felt even a little girly, and it felt good.

Inevitably, our community began to dissolve, some flying home, others like myself heading out to the coast, or the end of the earth as it's known here.  Goodbyes were difficult, as I knew I'd be heading back out into solo travel and the consequent loneliness that comes with it.  It was what I looked forward to least, losing this exceptional, unusual community.  I didn't take them for granted.

Sunset, End of the World

I know that among the many camino lessons, and miracles, and hurts, and healing, we had each other.  We shared relationship, and community, and laughter.  We shared tears and vulnerability.  We shared braces for tendonitis, and medicine for illness, and electrolyte powder for puffy-face syndrome.  We shared bottles of vino tinto, and our secret hopes for the future.  We shared our confidence and our courage as well as much as our weakness and our failings.  And I think, at the end of it all, that's all that matters, all any of us can hope for.  So, to those who continue to live as pilgrims on this wildly painful, glorious, messy road that is life, a most sincere Buen Camino.

... To Santiago de Compostela, Part II

I began the ascent into the final mountains, and officially into autumn.  The trees were heavy laden with apples, pears, figs, castañas and walnuts.  I felt like Dorothy in Return To Oz, gobbling up fruit as I walked along, grateful to not miss out on apple season, even so far from my beloved Pennsylvania orchards.  The cool air was perfumed by the ripening fruit and the familiar smell of the surrounding pastures and friendly livestock.  It reminded me so much of home, during this most homesick of seasons, and I was grateful.  It was during the nostalgic wistfulness of these days that we were assaulted with the first and worst of the rains.

Nicola

In the midst of the sudden deluge of wild weather, I did my best not to focus on my purple fingernails, or the feeling of new blisters growing under my blister scars.  I tried my best not to visualize my boots as fishbowls, pregnant with water.  I tried my best to shield my eyes from the icy wind and rain, and to adjust my posture, as I was intermittently aware of how parallel I was walking to the ground.  I visualized the caffeine coursing through my veins, inspiring my muscles to do what they knew to do, to propel me and my pack forward, step by brutal step.  I pictured my cardiovascular system working overtime to keep me warm, and trusted my capacity beyond my longing to curl up and take shelter.  It was a primal experience of entrusting myself to myself.

As I forged ahead, I was reminded for the millionth time of how much I take for granted, of how grateful I am for shelter, and warm, dry clothes, and a home.  I was acutely aware that even here, we are among the most privileged, each of us with opportunity and resources enough to arrive in Spain, our $200 packs over-stuffed with what we believe to be our essentials.  Each of us able to find medicine to treat our blisters, and medical care to treat our illness, and cream to treat our bedbug bites.  Undoubtedly, each with a home full of closets overstuffed with more clothes than we'll ever need.  And for the millionth time, I was humbled.  And more determined than ever to honor simplicity and appreciate with intention.

I arrived over the last of the mountains, my poncho shredded beyond recognition as anything other than party confetti, to find Nicola, the most gentle of Italian giants working his way off the mountain and into the town.  I had spent the better part of the week walking with different men from different countries, and he had quickly evolved into a shining favorite.  An Italian sunshine, as someone once referred to him.  A man only a few years older than me, who has more friends than even Facebook allows, and more heart than maybe anyone I've ever met.  A man who, in answer to prayers he knew nothing about, softened some of my edges, and gave me a bit of hope.  And if this wasn't enough, was also funny as hell, and a great drinking buddy.

My Favorites

As we worked our way deeper into Galicia and past the 100k mark, the landscape evolved into misty, fragrant forests of pine and eucalyptus.  The temperatures continued to drop, and we gladly experienced a reprieve from the rains.  Friendships continued to evolve, walls continued to come down, and limits continued to be tested.  I wiggled my way into a quad of phenomenal humans who had joined forces way back in the Pyrenees, and enjoyed every minute of their company.  I was as powerfully grateful for the saints and pilgrims I was personally meeting as I was for any who'd gone before these past two thousand years.  I knew their sacrifice, what it cost them to walk these narrow roads.  Their commitment inspired me, and gave me the courage to see it through to the end, to see it through to Santiago de Compostela.  We were so close.

...To Santiago de Compostela, Part I

Castaña Tree

The last 300 kilometers have been fraught with rhythm and strengthening and snorechestras (thanks, Colin!).  There was the rhythm of our daily routine, walk-wash-(try to) sleep, the rhythm of our unique individual paces blending with each other on the path, the cadence of our boots and sticks bouncing off the various terrains through country and towns and cities, one step at a time.  A special kind of harmony.  There was the strengthening of our legs, and backs, and appetites.  The strength of our appreciation for each other, and sitting down, and earplugs.  We were in it together.   

After our night under the blood moon, we gradually made our way out of the arid Meseta and into the Bierzo, a region lush with vegetation and color and vineyards.  Also the last of the regions we’d traverse before conquering the final mountains and entering Galicia, the land of Santiago de Compostela.  This is where I learned that castañas, or chestnuts, actually do taste sweet and a little soft when roasted, but taste more like feet when eaten raw.

Coffee Break
 

It was here in the Bierzo that I began to feel infused with the energy and strength of this mysterious road, both physically and mentally, defying even my own expectations.  Many days, I'd walk well over 30 kilometers before I even realized how far I'd gone, shaking off the abstraction of the lost hours, feeling vital and alive and starving.  I continued to spend my evenings with all sorts of people, people walking to grieve dying loved ones, people walking to find God, people walking to lose Him.  It was humbling every time, to be afforded the opportunity to meet each of them, and share in a part of their day, and their lives.

During those hours of sweaty reflection, I found it impossible not to confront some of my ghosts.  A simple thing really, to realize the power of what we each carry, the things we believe about ourselves, truth and lie alike.  That disappearing into an 800 kilometer trek through a foreign country, even then, there you are.  

Gaudi in Astorga

Eventually, we began the ascent up the last of the series of mountains to the highest peak of the whole Camino at 1,505 meters.  This is the site of the Cruz de Ferro, where many pilgrims leave something behind, often a rock they’d carried from home.  I hadn’t had the forethought or the backpack space to do such a thing, but felt convicted, the higher I climbed that cool morning, that I too needed to leave something, or rather someone, behind.

I chose a small rock, pointy with sharp edges, to represent someone sharp and pointy from my not-too-distant past.  Someone to whom I gave far more credit than was deserved for reflecting the beauty of his surroundings, instead of the sharp edges that he actually bore.  A person whose potential I chose to believe instead of his actual character, whose words I chose to believe instead of his actions.  As I carried this pointy little guy to the foot of the cross, its edges scratching me one last time, I made some choices.  Some choices to forgive him, but maybe even more importantly, to forgive myself for putting myself in yet another situation with yet another sharp rock.  So as I placed him down on the pile of others’ hopes and hurts and losses, I said a prayer that maybe he’d allow his edges to be softened and shaped by those around him.  And that maybe I’d learn to do the same.