This is the absolute end of the Camino de Santiago
The granite posts are route markers and they are lifelines along the entire way.
It's easy these days to allow my brain to select memories of some of the best days of my adult life. We still remain limited in our choices of new experiences, and "Covid-19 Days"still tend to run on into each other with few highlights. So, it seems rather natural for a glance backwards, ruminating and relishing memories of a delicious past. In Pre-Covid days, I may have simply hurried on my way to newer memories, gathering mental images that time did not allow for expansion. As I start another day I am feeling the need to take advantage of, instead of damning too much, free time. So I sat myself down with the hope of recapturing some of those backward glances and savoring them for all their worth. After all, isn't that what life is made up of, memories.
Along the northeast coast of Spain, in the province known as A Coruna, lie two towns considered as the last of the possible stops for pilgrims along the way of the Camino de Santiago, Muxia (moo SHEE ah) and Finisterre (AKA Fisterre). If it was the film "The Way", that first captured your interest in the Camino, you may remember having seen Martin Sheen completing his journey at Finisterre, often referred to as "the End of the World". It was here that the bereaved father cast the ashes of his son into the majestic sea.
I love every memory of our days on the Camino, doubting that anything else in my life to come could hold a candle to that experience. Our journey, in celebration of my seventieth birthday, was completed in five days of perfect weather, during the last week of April, 2018. We officially ended our Camino in the city of Santiago de Compostella, feeling exhilarated and happy after long days of hiking the ancient route. We had arrived at our destination and all the "ifs" were past-tense. We spent the next three days leisurely strolling, no deadlines or destinations. Our Camino passports were full, no more need to get them stamped. We passed muster at the Pilgrim Office and received our Compostellas, certifying that we had, indeed completed the required 100 kilometers. Santiago days were for relaxation and celebration, eating tapas and taking it easy after five days of walk, eat, sleep, repeat. So, no, we did not feel guilty when we boarded a luxury bus two days later and settled into our comfortable seats for an all-day excursion to the Finisterre. The sky was blue, the air was perfect and the views were extreme. Along the way, we saw pilgrims still on their journey. While most end their Way in Santiago, there are a number who chose to stay on foot and travel on to the very, very end. An hour and a half bus ride would have netted out to several more walking days. Had this been a celebration of an earlier birthday, we might have considered this option.
The coastal route was spectacular. Living near the sea, I still never tire of seascapes. As our bus twisted and turned through tiny towns that dot the coastline, we were able to sit back and just enjoy. A few short stops at some very scenic locales and then on to Muxia for lunch. Of course, octopus was part of that meal as it was most of our meals in Galicia. We luxuriated at a seaside cafe and followed it up with a walk through the town, I accompanied by three other American women. Joe ventured out on his own. Having been together every moment for the previous two weeks, the time away felt odd, especially when the bus was about to depart and he was nowhere in sight. Thank God for small favors....a red backpack was spotted by one of our companions and soon we were on our way again.
The final stop on our bus route was the breathtaking Finisterre. As the bus wound up the hill, the rest of the world slowly slipped away and the beauty of the most Northern tip of Spain was revealed. The Baixir Cross greets pilgrims who next seek the final marker of the Camino. Beyond that, waves crash against huge rock formations that lead gracefully out to the sea. The entire point is an observation area, the boundless beauty marked by relentless sprays of ocean against nature. Symphonic. Shade of blue and green, mixed with silvery white show up with each crash, non-stop. Gorgeous. Majestic. Only words. One would have to be there to fully grasp this, this overwhelming feeling and stunning appreciation of Man meeting Sea and, in the end, Sea the greater force. A perfect way to end our Way, or any way, for that matter.
After all is said and done, the Camino de Santiago is a perfect metaphor, one that is completed at the
The CDC explains that the practice of quarantine specifically involves ...the separation of a person or group of people reasonably believed to have been exposed to a communicable disease but not yet symptomatic, from others who have been exposed, to prevent the possible spread of the communicable disease.
Two years ago, when the world was an entirely different place, my soulmate husband Joe, and I were planning an event that, at the time, we had no idea would be a practice session for what is our current way of life. We could not have known that our experience on the Camino de Santiago in the northernmost corner of Spain, would become the training ground for what was to come a mere two years later.
We're in a quarantine at this very moment. Time, for us, and the rest of the world, has frozen and for so, so many, time has become hellish and unbearable. Our quarantine now is the effort, the weapon, and perhaps, the only one,with which we will fight a physical disease, one that is taking lives by the thousands as it sweeps mercilessly across the globe.
We are doing our part, and taking it all one day at a time. We are not unfamiliar with what is now referred to as "Social Distancing". Our days on the Camino paced us oftentimes, miles between people. Yet, we felt joined at the hip with others along the way, knowing that we were sharing something big, special, important. For our five days of walking, for that one hundred miles, we separated ourselves from the rest of the world and isolated, keeping our distance from the symptoms of the world, a universe spinning out of control. On the Camino de Santiago, it is almost impossible to harbor an evil thought, to have a worry about the outside, material world. On Camino, it is easy to allow for distancing, not only from other people, but from despair, woes, and fears. On Camino, the beauty and the gift comes from quarantine. The separation of a person or group of people reasonably believed to have been exposed to a communicable disease........
BUEN CAMINO
I have been invited to guest speak at the meeting of a Catholic woman's group next month. A friend and neighbor heads up the monthly presentations and she suggested that my Camino journey might be an interesting topic. She added that the women might also like to hear about my more recent trip to Italy.
For the January talk, I will have to come up with something that will hold their interest for at least twenty minutes. I have given long thought to this and have been rather casual in my preparation. Public speaking comes easily to me. I was, after all, a childbirth educator years ago, speaking to a small crowd of new and anxious people, every six weeks for thirteen years. Meeting new people and forming a bond, then, became a necessary skill. But, this time, I will be addressing an audience of women who perhaps have long ago moved from that point in their lives and are now at the point of seeking new adventures, not related to births and hopefully, more related to their own personal growth. If I hold that thought, the preparation and final production should not be difficult.
I shall divide my presentation into three parts. A before, during and after. Here again, piece of cake.
Almost like childbirth, isn't it? All is calm before a contraction as we wait for it to begin, not knowing of course, how things will feel, how well we will handle what's ahead or what the final outcome will be. During a contraction, we are left with the point of no return, the slow development and the cresting before the retreat and the return to the times in-between. And then, the blissful time after each, and finally, after all, when a baby in arms is the reward. If we are so fortunate, we get to live side by side with that baby and our responsibilities to the child grow as does the child.
So, in planning to speak about the great event, I will tell my audience that this was a plan that grew out of my desire to celebrate my seventieth birthday by taking on a challenge, that there will be a beginning, a middle and an end to the story.
The need to take on something great came from my disappointment in a previous landmark birthday. At the time, I was working as a corporate nurse in New York City. A lot of my clients were executive level and many of them, my same age. We were facing this landmark of sixty as a group so it was not uncommon for one of them to come to my office for a service and conversation about their lives and how they planned to celebrate a birthday. I heard about trips to exotic places, dancing the tango in Argentina, safaris, huge family trips, and quiet celebrations with family members. With each month, new ideas came and of course, I was in anticipation of my own celebration. An early retirement package should have filled that bill, but that only led to our return to the Cape, to be closer to my aging parents. So, the big day was approaching and so was a baby.....our second grandchild. Her due date, just weeks after my birthday, in the middle of a snowy Winter. A Winter which brought the flu to our house.
And, on the day of my birthday, instead of a big adventure in celebration, I sat it out, all day, as nurse-wife to my flu-riddled husband as he lay in bed. Baked my own birthday cake, brought it over to my parent's home where it was welcomed with "you baked your own cake, how ridiculous" Amen. With the day not over, I invited a friend out to dinner. We had a lovely time but she had totally forgotten that it was my birthday. She just thought it nice that we had dinner together. End of that story.
In approaching my seventieth birthday, I was determined to find that something special. Just one more big birthday please!!!! No, no party. No, no big gift. Please, just something........
Well, a few months before, for some reason I will never understand, I joined a bowling league. Heck, I used to bowl when my kids were young. Loved being on a weekly league, especially since there was childcare provided. I did fairly well. But when I showed up on the first day of this new venture, I found out that this was Candlestick Bowling, something I had never in my life done. And, very soon, I discovered that I was not very good at it and time was not improving my style or my scores. But, I did not quit. I started to think of my Wednesdays at the bowling center as my weekly challenges and prided myself on my attention to that detail of my life. Challenge acceptor. New title.
I think it's easy to see where this story is going. For my birthday celebration, I was going to find something challenging. I had a new and more capable body one year after my bariatric surgery. I knew I was brave and I knew I was ready to take on something great again. So, I did a tiny bit of research and found the Camino de Santiago, the ancient pilgrimage across the top of Spain. Now, this is a beginning.
I just received an email from a friend in Italy, the lovely man who will, at least
for the month of November, be my landlord. He reminded me that I will be arriving in Assisi in ten days and he is "excited". In my reply to him, I confirmed that he is not the only one who is excited about the plans. And, as I did so, I reminded him that six months ago, this journey that I am now planning to complete, started when Joe and I did our Camino in Spain.
My granddaughters became the henchmen for what I had fondly referred to as #mycamino, on my Instagram photos. During a visit, they probably thought they were amusing when they sarcastically referred to the use of this "hashtag". But it was embarrassing and hurtful and it brought my little ritual to an abrupt end. Let me go on record as saying that I am not a FaceBook user and that I have used Instagram for a while as a repository of photos and a way to connect with other photos. Beyond that, social media is not part of my life and I'm not always even sure of what and why hashtags exist. I just know that one click of #mycamino brings me back to not only my memories but those of others who also treasured their experiences on the Camino de Santiago.
So, please indulge me. Please don't mock me. I don't do well with that and promise to not do it to you.
In ten short, windy days, I will be back on MY Camino. In three short, cold and snowy months, I will have completed my seventieth year. I have my health, my wits-about-me, my ideal blood pressure and weight (finally), and I have a heck of a lot for which to be grateful. I also have a heck of a lot to contemplate as I face, along with the rest of humanity, an uncertain future.
Six years ago, in my own way of mourning my mother's death, I took myself to Assisi, Italy, for one month. I was alone for most of that month and was free to use my time in any way I sought. It was wonderful and healing. I found comfort at every turn and heightened spirituality was only one of the benefits. I know that I grew as a person if not only for the fact that going solo meant a huge confidence boost at a time I needed it. Spirituality and confidence have stuck. And now, they are the very things that have led me to the perfect end of my year-long celebration of life. I'm about to do it my way. This time, I will not be totally alone. Most of the people who will be accompanying me also have a mission. More about that later, as days go by and we unfold our stories.
For now, as I prepare for my journey, I know
I am also preparing for the journey back home. My father becomes 97 next week, just days before I depart. The Winter will arrive soon after my return.
My mother-in-law is now just a few months short of her 104th birthday. It's been a long, disturbing Summer. The more I am ready, the more useful I will become. The more fulfilled I can claim to be, the more resilient I know I will be. My loving and wonderful husband understands all of this. He's a major part of everything I do and this time, once again,will remain on the bleachers. But, he's also been a pilgrim and he gives his blessing, knowing that I will come home with a readiness for the rest of our lives. #ourcamino.
The Scallop shell was used by early pilgrims as a vessel for water, wine and food and therefore was adopted as the symbol for the Camino. It is one of the most important route markers and is seen in variations all along the hundreds of miles.
Not a week goes by when I am asked if I have written about our Camino yet. Not a day goes by when I have not given hours of my thoughts to that very idea. Before setting out, I promised myself, and lot of other people, that I would stay in touch through my writing and that they could do a virtual trip with us. I fully intended to use my writing as documentation and to fill spaces with photos that would capture moments and bring them quickly across the sea into the lives of those who chose to follow us. Alas, it did not happen that way. Oh, yes, I did document. But Instagram became the perfect repository for those photos and quick thoughts became the only ones that documented those moments that were too magical and too powerful for what it would have taken to have sat down for a greater write. Life on The Camino de Santiago is life unlike anything I had before encountered and it has taken from May until now, to process it all. My week of magical thinking. I am a fan of the late and great Leonard Cohen. I think of his Hallelijah as my personal theme song for this life-event. It contains a multiplicity of positions and, while it is complex, it is stirring and moves me. Not surprising, it was the song done by a young busker, that greeted us and overtook my emotions when we arrived in the Cathedral square at the completion of our journey. It has several different endings and it took Cohen five years to write it. Five years.
It's only taking me four months. R.I.P. Leonard Cohen.
The Camino in its entirety, stretches over five hundred kilometers from France through the top of Spain. Completing a full Camino takes a month or more and pilgrims who traverse the route carry everything they may need in packs on their backs. Packs are heavy at the start and become lighter along the way as the decision to "downsize" is made,making burdens easier and walking less strenuous. By the time they reach what was our starting point in Sarria, many already have lighter packs. Metaphors are born on the way and this one is an easy one to get. Our Camino was the shorter version, the one hundred kilometer Camino Frances, spanning only five days of walking with day packs. We stayed in hotels each night; our luggage went from one to the next each morning via vans. Each evening, clean beds, hot water, private bathrooms and lovely regional dinners awaited us. We had few expectations as we did our planning, but the knowledge of a meal, bed and hot shower at the end of each day, were on our list.
Sarria is a lovely little city, located an hour and a half's drive from the airport of our arrival, Santiago De Compostela. (Yes, we started at our completion destination!) A river runs through it and an ancient stone staircase sits in the outskirts awaiting pilgrims as they follow the yellow arrows that became the first of many for us to follow. The arrow and the simple lines of a scallop shell, painted yellow against a brilliant cobalt blue background (my beloved high school colors) are the singular route markers. Follow them and you stay on track. Realize that you haven't seen one in a while, stop and think about where you're going. It's best to not lose track of the markers for to do so results in back-tracking or becoming totally lost and alone. No taxis!
One of the questions we were asked often when we returned was "is it crowded?". While hundreds
of people travel the Camino routes daily, there are few times that one senses that there are many
others on their path. We passed and were passed by at least a hundred others - no conversations or introductions needed. Each and every person offers the universal salutation of "Buen Camino" to each other. "Have a good journey" One of the basic beauties of the Camino is the quietness and tranquility which allow for meditation, contemplation and prayer. Each sound of feet hitting surface or walking poles making their connection became for me, a tiny symphony and lent to the heightened awareness of the gift I was unwrapping. Those poles, by the way, made for a safer trek. Yes, we did look like giant insects but our agility levels were so much greater than they might have been. Ancient pilgrims used sticks found in the forests. Modern purists still use sticks but most are found in shops along the way. In ancient times, pilgrims simply walked out of the doors of their homes, turned left or right, and continued until reaching Santiago. No special equipment. No planning. No Ace bandages. And no bathing. More about that later.
After departing Sarria, our days went on filled with new terrains and fresh experiences. We found ourselves walking through forests of eucalyptus trees, over slippery rocks in streams, through mud, on hard pavement, over dry-packed soil, up hills and up hills and up hills.
Just as in life, there were hills that were tough to climb. There was no way to avoid them, and no turning back. Each became a challenge and I approached all of them with different sets of resolve. Some, I zig-zagged up, slowly. Some I simply stuck the brim of my hat down over my eyes and, sticking poles into the ground, climbed, allowing myself the surprise of arriving at each new plateau. Others, I sprinted up, just because. Each climb became a lesson. Many of them were filled with prayers of thanksgiving for the ability to move is a gift. The spirituality of endurance.
Sarria to Porto Marin to Palas de Reis to Melide to Azura to Amanal and finally, to the beautiful city of Santiago De Compestela.
The Way or the route from Sarria to Santiago is part of the Camino Frances. Completion of the last 100 kilometers or roughly 62.1 miles, allows for certification in the form of a document, written in Latin,known as the "Compostela" It is the route of choice for the older set but neither this route nor the 500 kilometer is mutually exclusive. For almost a thousand years, millions of pilgrims have walked to the Cathedral De Santiago. I'm not sure when the first "Compostela" was bestowed but I do know that the "Crudencial", the Pilgrim's Passport which is issued at the start of the journey must be stamped twice each day, in order to receive this document from an official office in Santiago. Forgetting to do this would be akin to forgetting to renew a driver's license. Our beautiful Compostela certificates, affirm the fact that we did, indeed, walked the required 100 kilometers. It does not, however, take into account the days before or after, times we got off-track, or walks at the ends of the day.
We claim more like 161 kilometers in five days. That glorious day, after having received our documents, we attended the Pilgrim Mass at the Cathedral. The Romanesque and Gothic structure, first opened in 1211. Tradition has it that the remains of St James the apostle, beheaded in 44 A.D. by King Herod in Jerusalem before being brought to Galicia, repose. At the top of the altar, a large bust of the saint overlooks the full nave of the cathedral and lines of visitors make their way up a narrow stairway to put their arms around his shoulders and give him a hug. We came, we saw, we hugged. It was he, after all, who brought us there in the first place. Who could resist? While hugging St James was an event in itself, it wasn't the highlight of our visit to the cathedral. That came in the form of another ancient ritual. The swinging of the Botafumerio pouring out incense at the end of the Mass was something that I wasn't sure I would ever see. It isn't done at every Mass. Six men are required to swing it and due to modern day economics, the ritual is usually reserved for special occasions. But, on this day, due to the contributions of a group of worshippers, it was swung in all its glory. Had it not been for the kindness of a stranger, a lovely little lady of Santiago who grabbed my arm and ran with me through the crowd until we reached the perfect vantage point. Had she not done this, I would have missed it and I would have been unhappy. Uniquely unhappy. Devastated. It is said that while on Camino, you meet at least one angel along the way. I did.
The Botafumerio is a censer suspended from a pulley mechanism on the roof of the cathedral. Made of an alloy of brass and bronze and plated with a very thin layer of silver, it holds 40 kg of charcoal and incense. It swings in a 65 meter arc, making 17 cycles for 80 seconds. Each time it is swung, it costs 450 Euros and requires the work of 8 red-robed men known as "Tiraboleiros". The custom of swinging the Botafumerio originated in 1604 and is thought to have been a way of ridding the cathedral of the odors brought in by early pilgrims after many weeks on The Way.
Walking eight hours each day, I don't think we were so much focused on the details of where we were as much as the feelings that were evoked at each turn of the road. What was this Camino stuff all about? I had read so much before about the spirituality and the life-changing. I, unlike a host of people who traverse the Camino, had no underlying reasons for my choice. For me, seeking a way to celebrate a landmark birthday, it seemed like the perfect challenge. God has been good. I was not healing from a crisis, nor was I seeking spiritual enlightenment. Simply put, I had, over the course of the year before, lost seventy pounds and had turned seventy in January so.....walking seventy-plus miles was my choice for the celebration. I guess you could say that I was fairly skeptical about the whole thing and looked on it more as an adventure than a life-altering journey. I was awaiting a Saint Paul, a white horse, groups of angels, visions, raining holy water. Nothing. With my poles, click-clacking, I eventually started to hear a rhythm. Music to my ears? Needed or not, I used those poles, dug in, and a sacred partnership formed. Together, we forged on as if they were speaking to me, urging me, coaxing me and finally, celebrating with me the mystery of the Camino, one message at a time. And finally, I got it. It was as if the soil beneath my feet leached and from it rose the spirits of the thousands of others who stepped upon it before I did. Without words, without white horses, without visions, it clarified and beautified itself. The Camino provides.
To understand Camino Magic, one has to do a Camino. Quickly, you learn that you do not "do" a Camino. You become the Camino. And there is the the magic.
Life moves forward, like the Camino. In Spanish, this moving forward and continuing one's Camino is summed up in the word Ultreia. It's a special challenge, to keep the experience and all the magic alive each day, to live what was learned, to change patterns and habits that took seventy years to build. But, for those five incredible days, I removed what was not needed to be me, and slowly found a new reality of who I am, a shell seeker...... in small daily doses of wonderment. My only regret is that we did not have more time, that we had to return to the burdens of another world too soon. I would have liked very much to have slowed down, to have spent more hours on the paths that twisted and climbed and reached to the sky. I would do it all over again, in a heartbeat. Next time, if and when, I will take the advice of the spirits and not be in such a hurry. After all, I was just on my way to meet myself.
The decision to take on the challenge of walking part of the Camino de Santiago in April was an important one. I had a good long time to contemplate how and why to celebrate a milestone birthday. The reasons were obvious to me. I've worked hard on getting my body ready for a new life. Right now, I can say with confidence that I have lost at least sixty pounds of unwanted weight since last year and will, in fact, be celebrating a year since my bariatric adventure began. Within that year, I also celebrated my seventieth birthday. Both events, I reckon, are worthy of being marked by something extraordinary. People walk the Camino for various reasons. The full Camino, done by pilgrims for centuries, stretches over 500 kilometers. The Camino de Santiagoknown in English as The Way of Saint James among other names,is a network servingpilgrimages to the shrine of the apostleSaint James the Great in the Cathedralof Santiago de Compostela. The town of Compostela, is in Galicia in northwestern Spain. Tradition has it that the remains of the saint are buried here. Many follow its routes as a form of spiritual path or retreat for their spiritual growth. Others, simply for exercise or the challenge of having completed something that they find to be life-altering, no matter the reason. The modern-day "pilgrims" come to the route from all parts of the world, all cultures, all ages, and all shapes and sizes. Some only make it part of the way, stopping their journey for reasons that they may not have anticipated when they started out. For most of those who enter the route, backpacks and hostels become their way of life for at least thirty days. For people like myself and my husband, the last one hundred kilometers will suffice. We won't be backpacking, nor will we be hosteling, but we will "qualify" for the much-desired "Compostela" when we arrive at the end of our journey. At that point, we will have to present proof of our having completed the route and we will have to state our intentions, whether they be religious or otherwise. At this point in our journey, the days before our departure, we find that we are called upon to state those same intentions, by curious friends, acquaintances, and family members. When I'm asked, I'm never quite sure what to say. I know, in my heart, what the answer is, but I am not always willing to share those innermost thoughts. But, I will tell you, that when thoughts have been shared, the responses have not always been, shall I say, thoughtful or even sensitive. Both my husband and I have been told that we're "crazy" or that the choice would not be his or hers. We've been "warned" about blisters, foot problems, lack of stamina, difficulty. You name it, we've been "advised". As if we don't already know all of that! As if we are looking for an easy way to spend a week in the Spring. I've decided to stop trying to make other people happy. I've decided to look deeply into why we are doing this in the first place. I'm not going to answer any more questions regarding our motivation. It's like the old saying....."if you have to ask the price, you can't afford it". So, perhaps my future blogs will reveal some answers. Perhaps, not. This is MY Camino and My journey. But, I did look for some help and found it in a forum. A woman of my same age, who, incidentally, is doing her second solo Camino, when summarizing her motives, simply says that she doesn't want to die without having done this. Buen Camino!
For the past ten months, the question of how I would most like to celebrate my January milestone birthday, has come up many times. Becoming seventy is a huge deal, especially when one is fortunate enough to have pain-free hips and knees, not to mention totally good health. I blew it for my sixtieth birthday. I had so many fantasies about how to mark the occasion and, a the time, was still in the working world which allowed me to listen to co-workers who were also planning their own celebrations. Dancing the tango in Argentina, going on safari, running, leaping, jumping.....I worked among some highly energized and may I say, well-funded people in New York City. I knew that my plans would never hold a candle to their plans but it was nice to think that I could carve out at least twenty-four hours to call my own. After all, I had artfully arranged a special trip, complete with good friends at our side, to Italy in celebration of my husband's same milestone birthday. One day would not be asking the world. So, the day came and the day left. I resorted to making my own cake (a gesture that did not go un-noticed by my aged parents who essentially mocked my efforts) and finally, inviting a good friend out to dinner (she had no idea why) because....the day belonged to a husband with the flu and a grand-daughter who was turning two. Another baby on the way was also a huge pre-empter. Okay, so it wasn't about me. I've got so much more to be grateful for in my life.
Well, now, a decade down the road and things are going to be different. Or, so I hope. If you're following me, you must realize that there is another milestone birthday in the pipeline and it's rapidly approaching. I do not intend to make my own cake and if the flu hits, I'm heading for a hotel. The way I figure it, this is possibly the last milestone that will allow for frivolity. The next one, I may simply choose to ignore. Time will tell.
So. Here's the plan.
On my "list" of things I considered for celebrating, the word "challenge" came up more than once. For my seventieth birthday, I want to be challenged. I want to celebrate all the things that I have done to change my life. I want to reward myself, just this once, for good behavior, for good choices made, for kicking a few potential health problems in the butt. If this sounds self-absorbed, I could not care less. If checking off one thing from that list of life's to-do's is what I will have ta-done, then I will consider this coming birthday as the best ever. Please, God.
For this birthday.....drum roll......
I'm taking a walk. A very long walk. In the Spring. After flu season. After snow season.
Not the entire stretch Just the last 111 kilometers. Just a week. Just because.
