Finding yourself along the Way

A crisp morning. The ground soft underfoot. Lost in my own thoughts when Dee, my

walking buddy, asks:

 “So what do you wish for today?”

Given my love of animals, great and small, I answer “a robin.”

Although we had been walking in the Spanish countryside for the past few weeks, the lack of wildlife of any description had become apparent. Approaching Portomarin, I caught sight of a small robin sitting in a nearby tree. I whispered to Dee to use her cumbersome camera to photograph it. As she readied to take the shot, the robin deftly left its branch and flew down to land inches from my feet. I froze – mesmerized. I had never been this close to my namesake. A sign perhaps?

Apparently everyone starts the Camino with a question. For many, it is a deeply

religious experience. For others, me included, it was a unique opportunity to walk

790 kilometres across Spain carrying everything on my back, sleeping each night in

albergues with other foot-weary pilgrims and being ‘in the moment.’ Well that was

the plan.

To be honest, I’m not sure what I expected. But it was to become one of those life-

defining moments. In many ways a luxury in our fast-paced modern world. A daily

routine that began early each morning leaving our accommodation to walk.

One foot in front of the other following painted yellow arrows that signalled the path

that leads to St James’ remains in the cathedral in Galicia’s Santiago de

Compostela. With John Brierly’s bible ‘The Pilgrims’ Guide to the Camino de

Santiago’, a pilgrim’s passport to collect tampons (stamps) and a prized scallop

shell, an adventure began which would finish almost six weeks later.

We quickly fell into a rhythm which became predictable, comfortable and worry-free.

Up at the crack of dawn in an attempt to avoid the brutal Spanish sun. After a couple

of hours of walking we would stop for a pastry and café con leche before continuing

onto the next village where we would spend the evening. Most days we walked 25 to 30

kilometres. Anything less than that became a ‘doddle’. We had factored in three rest

days – one in Burgos, another in Leon and the last in Santiago although the plan

was to walk to the 00 waymarker at Finisterre.

In Sarria, the most populous town on the French Way, we observed pilgrims

disembarking from the local train to ‘begin’ the last 100 kilometres of the Camino in

order to receive their Compostela certificate. They were clearly identifiable given

their pristine shoes, white legs and loud voices. At that point, I took a moment to

correct myself. Who was I to judge how one walks the Camino? Over the past few

weeks, I had seen pilgrims riding bicycles, on horseback, using donkeys, even a

companion dog with saddlebags. That evening as we sat sampling Gracian food and

wine the owner of the restaurant stressed that the Camino is a personal journey and

it is up to the individual to decide how it will be achieved. Wise words which came

back to bite me when I recalled a conversation with some Irish pilgrims a few days

earlier. The group of lads were enjoying a hearty breakfast as we walked past. One

remarked that my backpack wasn’t ‘big enough.’

“Big enough for what?” I asked.

“To carry all your sins” he replied.

This prickled and although Dee signalled ‘leave it’ I had to get in the final word.

“Oh! But there’s plenty of room. You see, I don’t have many sins to carry.”

The table gave me a look of absolute disbelief so I added:

“And by the way, I don’t recall St James stopping for a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon

on his pilgrimage either.”

Sitting around a communal table in A Rúa towards the end of our walk, we shared

the obligatory pilgrims’ meal which was always made more palatable with copious

quantities of rioja (local red wine). We had seen the other pilgrims along the way but

now we introduced ourselves. There was Carlos Snr and his son, Carlos Jnr from

Ecuador; Rachel an editor from Singapore; and Giles, a Frenchman living in Warsaw.

When I introduced myself as Robyn, Carlos Snr asked for an explanation.

“Robyn. Like the bird” I responded.

With a couple of glasses of red wine under my belt, I decided to share my robin story. Giles, who was walking the Camino like a true pilgrim with a heavy backpack and bible in hand, asked me what it meant. I thought for a while before answering.

“I was being told I was on the right path.” All around the table nodded.

 ____________________

A recently retired academic. Robyn’s love of long walks has taken her across Spain’s

Camino de Santiago and Del Norte, Le Chemin in southern France and the

Nakasendo trail in Japan and many places in between. She fervently hopes this

wanderlust continues into her dotage!