Meanderings & Musings

A year ago today I logged the last and longest day... of my solo trek across northern Spain: 23+ miles, 3,400' elevation gain, 8.5 hours of movement — with every combination of weather (poncho to sunblock and back again), terrain (mud, rock, woodlands, sand, pavement), and views. It has been good to reflect. I ended the day feeling peaceful. Grounded. Internally at rest. Like I'd completed what I needed to do. And yet, the journey continues: through my slow, meandering way home (by train, air, and a transatlantic crossing), through a transition back to "normal life" that felt anything but, through the early attempt to put it all into words here — which stalled somewhere around day three, when the next chapter apparently had other plans — into massage school — an unplanned turn, though I'd considered it for years — and, just this week, to launching my own practice. Walk and the way will appear is still holding true. Taking the next step, making the next right decis...

Zubiri, Spain , March 1 I made a friend today (from Amsterdam ), and we walked most of the day together. It was a nice changeup from solo, and we had an early, candid conversation about both being ok if either of us wanted to break and get some time alone. Her companionship was comfortable: both the conversations and the walking in silence, matching pace. Occasionally, we’d meet others of our group who stayed at the monastery last night, making it feel more like I was part of a collective pilgrimage. Today I did a full stage for the first time (having split stage #1 into two days). It seemed manageable enough at around 14+ miles with less than 1,500’ of elevation, and kept me in sync with last night’s group. However, my right foot which has been bugging me has now completely ballooned, so I’m keeping it elevated every chance I get, even as I write. Less painful today, actually, than the past few, but it looks bad. I suppose it’ll take me a bit to “trail-harden.” I didn't expect it...

Roncesvalles, Spain, February 28 I’m scrunched in my lower bunk, #13 of a 24-bed dorm (this is one of the tiny ones here, some of the dorms have well over 100). By scrunched, I mean that I can’t sit upright because there’s not enough headspace. Were these not built for adults? I’m beginning to think that lower bunks are highly overrated. They’re always the first taken, though in this case, I had mine assigned by the stern lady at the desk who got me checked into this historic facility.  It is an iconic stop. A town with a resident population of about 30 humans, with this enormous, ancient monastery complex (complete with cloisters, chapel, hostel, museum, and more), which has been a place of hospitality for pilgrims of The Way for about 900 years, dating back to 1127. There’s an ancient feeling about the place, for sure, though I’ve been told there were some recent improvements, like the outlets by each bed and a reading light. For these modernizations, I am truly grateful. Only t...

Saint Jean Pied-de-Port, France, February 27 It’s an early, 5 AM wake-up in the dorm. Somehow, this room that looked bright and airy yesterday, with a lovely view of the mountains, feels like a thick-stone-walled dungeon in the darkness. It’s filled with metal bunks, now creaking exceptionally, as pilgrims begin to rouse and start packing out. I’m not entirely certain that I've slept at all, between the sounds of this snoring, coughing, restless band of hikers. (My first surprise when I arrived at the hostel in town yesterday was the sheer number of travelers, as my main intent for choosing a winter Camino was to avoid the crowds.) Sleep is something I was anxious about with this trip. I’m a bad/light sleeper on a good day in my own bed with Benadryl and Ibuprofen for my shoulder issues. At some point during the night, I had a couple of thoughts about sleep related to pilgrim-life: 1) Sleep is a gift, not an expectation. I’ll be grateful for every bit that I get. 2) Eventually, I’...

  Saint Jean Pied-de-Port, France, February 26 I arrive in town via bus from Bayonne, France after spending a night (already a pivot from my plan, being delayed for hours yesterday due to a tragic incident on the rails, that made me miss my train connection). It was a stunning ride, and surreal in a lot of ways. I'm actually doing this: traveling through Europe like a boss! I continue to shock myself a bit on that account, I’ll admit. I had so much uncertainty about traveling alone internationally, finding my way in strange places, but here I am, doing what I felt incompetent or incapable of, or at least with significant doubt and trepidation of my abilities. Again, I never would’ve done it if I didn’t have this sense that it was the right thing, right time, going solo. I walk into town from the bus station, my only plan being to secure a bed promptly at the municipal hostel upon my arrival. Here’s what I know in advance about the place: no reservations allowed, dorms accommodate ...

  Paris, France, February 24, 8:43 PM It’s my 40th birthday and I’m alone in this Parisian restaurant. (Jason left for home today.) I’ve clocked nearly 9 miles on foot, walking all over the city, chasing distant architecture/interesting domes. My feet were starting to really bug me midway through, and were utterly throbbing towards the end. (It’s not entirely new, they were already doing that at home in training.) While on a bridge, taking pictures of the city at night, a Parisian gent approached me and asked if I wanted my photo taken. Of course, when traveling solo, it’s a chance not to be missed. It might’ve crossed my mind when I handed him my phone that I just handed off a whole lot of my current world: maps, credit card, and ID, beyond the phone itself, and that if it was someone of ill intent, I could be in a sticky spot.  Before leaving home, I had this belief that surfaced when people asked me if I wasn’t afraid to do this trip alone: that humans are generally good, t...