Instead of being with the Camino walkers, I am now surrounded by the 'hill walkers' in Scotland. We stay in Youth Hostels, and on occasion , a bed and breakfast, instead of albergues, and pay three to four times what was paid in Spain, and the same goes for food. In Spain, you could live on $20.00 per day. Here, you are lucky if you can get by with $50.00-$75.00 per day. Lately I've been riding the bus and walking to the Youth Hostels in various towns, with a little walking about the towns. I've gone from 20KM a day to 2KM. My knee has improved a little, but not a whole lot.
My dorm mates pour over their maps, plan their walking day, jump in their car or on a bike, and, walk up a 'worn down' mountain for two to three hours, then back to the youth hostel. The walkers have large boxes of food that they carry in their cars, and can make quite good meals after their walk. When walking the Camino, this was not possible. The hill walkers seem to fit somewhere in between the Camino walkers, and the regular tourists. There is no 5:30 rising, or daily handwashing of laundry, but for me with only one change of clothes, I continue with the old routine. We are lucky to be in bed by midnight.
After Spain, I flew to Edinburgh, took a bus to Aberdeen, Wick, and the Orkneys.
This is a totally different experience from the Camino. My friend Jo, whom I walked with for a few days, has reached Santiago.
I will be in Scotland for another week or so, then hope to travel to Northern England. I haven't any definite plans.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Monday, June 30, 2008
Old age and disease
After walking 400KM, my knee became so painful, that I was no longer able to walk. At first I thought it to be a slight setback, but have had to accept the fact that my knee is worn out. I am presently in Edinburgh, waiting to see a doctor. If possible, I plan to see more of Scotland and spend time at Throssel Hole Monastery in England.
Here in Edinburgh,I was able to find some nice knitting wool and a good book to read.
I'm enjoying being in an English-speaking country again.
Here in Edinburgh,I was able to find some nice knitting wool and a good book to read.
I'm enjoying being in an English-speaking country again.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
The Pension
Today is my third day in Sahagun. I think that 27Km was too far to walk. Because my right knee was very painful I spent the last two nights in a pension, all alone. and I've had the best sleep since leaving home.
It was an unusual eerie situation at the pension. After walking 6Km and deciding that it was no longer possible to continue, I asked the woman tending the bar to call a taxi that would take me to the next town. How sweet it was, speeding across the meseta, seeing the pilgrims slowly inching their way across the land.
I arrived at #2, no name, and was met by a woman, who quickly showed me up to #16, a sparse tall room with two creaky beds and thin, tall doors. Every room (30 or so) had a large skeleton keys iserted in the lock. It was the kind of key you would see locking a jail cell. All of the rooms were vacant. The dining room downstairs was set up for twenty or so people but no one sat at the tables. While resting, I could hear the nearby church clock, which rang every quarter hour, otherwise there was complete silence in the building. Late evening was the exception, I could hear a man and woman shouting (everyone seems to shout here) and could smell food cooking.
Because I'd seen no one since arriving, I had not registered nor paid any money but this morning a man, knocking loudly at my door, stood rubbing his thumb and finger together, speaking something in Spanish.
Downstairs the woman who'd originally let me in, was sitting wearing a surgical boot. She'd obviously been away at the hospital. After the owner requested three nights pay for the two that I'd slept there, my stay quickly ended.
It was an unusual eerie situation at the pension. After walking 6Km and deciding that it was no longer possible to continue, I asked the woman tending the bar to call a taxi that would take me to the next town. How sweet it was, speeding across the meseta, seeing the pilgrims slowly inching their way across the land.
I arrived at #2, no name, and was met by a woman, who quickly showed me up to #16, a sparse tall room with two creaky beds and thin, tall doors. Every room (30 or so) had a large skeleton keys iserted in the lock. It was the kind of key you would see locking a jail cell. All of the rooms were vacant. The dining room downstairs was set up for twenty or so people but no one sat at the tables. While resting, I could hear the nearby church clock, which rang every quarter hour, otherwise there was complete silence in the building. Late evening was the exception, I could hear a man and woman shouting (everyone seems to shout here) and could smell food cooking.
Because I'd seen no one since arriving, I had not registered nor paid any money but this morning a man, knocking loudly at my door, stood rubbing his thumb and finger together, speaking something in Spanish.
Downstairs the woman who'd originally let me in, was sitting wearing a surgical boot. She'd obviously been away at the hospital. After the owner requested three nights pay for the two that I'd slept there, my stay quickly ended.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Camino Routine
We usually arise at 6am, sometimes to some rousting music, to get the pilgrims on the road, and always to crackling plastic bags, and the zipping and rustling of sleeping bags. At the same time, the keeners who have been up since 5:30am are packing up, grabbing walking sticks, eating, drinking, and slamming the bathroom door, while the others, still wearing earplugs, are trying to get the last few minutes of sleep in before being turned out.
Sometimes you can eat in the albergue, food that you've purchased the night before, or wait until, you reach the next village and have coffee con leche with bread, butter and jam. Then it's walking until the afternoon, with stops in small village bars on the way for drinks and something to eat. Most people arrive at the albergue by early afternoon, pay 5 or so euros, get your passport stamped, if possible, quickly choose a lower bunk bed against a wall, shower, wash your socks, have a nap, find the closest bar for food, use the internet, if there is one and then brush your teeth, put in earplugs and go to sleep at 10pm, In the morning it starts all over again,
You make sure that you have your rain gear, your sun hat, sunscreen,your map, water and some food, then off you go again and it starts all over again. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalk,Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalk,Waaaaaaaaaaaaaalk.
Sometimes you can eat in the albergue, food that you've purchased the night before, or wait until, you reach the next village and have coffee con leche with bread, butter and jam. Then it's walking until the afternoon, with stops in small village bars on the way for drinks and something to eat. Most people arrive at the albergue by early afternoon, pay 5 or so euros, get your passport stamped, if possible, quickly choose a lower bunk bed against a wall, shower, wash your socks, have a nap, find the closest bar for food, use the internet, if there is one and then brush your teeth, put in earplugs and go to sleep at 10pm, In the morning it starts all over again,
You make sure that you have your rain gear, your sun hat, sunscreen,your map, water and some food, then off you go again and it starts all over again. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalk,Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalk,Waaaaaaaaaaaaaalk.
Friday, June 13, 2008
The Meseta
Today I had to let go of my good German boots and the second pair of boots that I bought two days ago in Burgos. I thought the boots were the problem, but in fact it was my toes. They must be left free, or they will pain most dreadfully. I now wear only sandals. Again I am sending something away. Edwardo, from the Albergue en el Comino will ship them to Santiago for me when I get close to my destination. The Santiago post office will hold parcels for two weeks then return them to the sender.
Today was my third day on the meseta: miles and miles of wheat and barley and even when I could see a village, it was many kilometers away. The flat land seems to go on forever. Sometimes it's best to just look one footstep in front of me. People far ahead of me look like ants in the distance.
Yesterday was a stiff climb up the Alto de Mostelares. After 20km of walking in the hot sun and wind, I was met on the road, outside the albergue, by Jo, the English woman, whom I repeatedly see at various points on the way. Often she'll start out with me, but quickly leaves if I stop to take a photograph .
Yesterday I photographed a group of old Spanish women waiting for the bread truck. They loved the attention that they received from me, but would not be photographed unless they were close to their flower gardens. One old woman grabbed a potted plant to hold, as we would with a pet or baby, then allowed me to take a photo.
Today I was met on the Camino, by an 83 year old widower, who walks 4km from the town, asking and writing the names of pilgrims and their pñace of origin, and then walks back home again. I've hear that it has changed his life. He did ask for a kiss on his cheek.
Tomorrow, I hope to do another 20km. I have to make it to an albergue in time to get a bed.
There are approximately 449km left to walk to Santiago.
Today was my third day on the meseta: miles and miles of wheat and barley and even when I could see a village, it was many kilometers away. The flat land seems to go on forever. Sometimes it's best to just look one footstep in front of me. People far ahead of me look like ants in the distance.
Yesterday was a stiff climb up the Alto de Mostelares. After 20km of walking in the hot sun and wind, I was met on the road, outside the albergue, by Jo, the English woman, whom I repeatedly see at various points on the way. Often she'll start out with me, but quickly leaves if I stop to take a photograph .
Yesterday I photographed a group of old Spanish women waiting for the bread truck. They loved the attention that they received from me, but would not be photographed unless they were close to their flower gardens. One old woman grabbed a potted plant to hold, as we would with a pet or baby, then allowed me to take a photo.
Today I was met on the Camino, by an 83 year old widower, who walks 4km from the town, asking and writing the names of pilgrims and their pñace of origin, and then walks back home again. I've hear that it has changed his life. He did ask for a kiss on his cheek.
Tomorrow, I hope to do another 20km. I have to make it to an albergue in time to get a bed.
There are approximately 449km left to walk to Santiago.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Acceptance and letting go
I've walked about one third of the way across Spain, and so have approximately 500km to go.
Doing a pilgrimage sounds very romantic, but truthfully, it's probably one of the hardest things that I've ever done, and it's not just the walking that's hard. I think it's the letting go that's the hardest: letting go of the familiar, privacy, comfort, letting go of ever again seeing those that you meet on the way, not pushing away that feeling of utter loneliness that you feel as you stand in the middle of nowhere, unsure of which path to take. Even letting go of my possessions, was not easy. Twice, I packed things up and sent them to Throssel Hole Monastery in Britian. There are many days that I have to walk feeling very cold, but it was necessary to send away things, and lighten my load. The Throssel guestmaster is wondering who this person sending these parcels, is. We've never met.
I've had to let go of my expectations, of how far I shall walk each day, and accept that I am walking this alone. I have to let go of comparisons. Often, I think that I'll be last arriving, only to find out that I'm ahead of those who seemed most fit. Those who seem most cheerful often have tragic stories, such as a child's suicide.
It wasn't until I'd been walking a couple of weeks, that I experienced this acceptance. Now I just walk. Sometimes I'll walk short distances with others, but mostly I walk alone. Some things that have helped with the walking are: drinking more water, wearing my sandals when out of the mud (my toes were very sore), taking an antinflammitory twice a day for my knee, stopping regularily, lightening my load and therefore not having to send my pack ahead, thus making it possible to stop at any point. Not comparing pilgrims, and going only as far as it is good to do, not even worrying about Santiago, or my lack of whatever, just walking is best. I don't know how I finally arrived at that point of acceptance, but it sure is a lot easier than holding on and pushing away the things that we love and dislike.
This too will change. I'm sure of that
Doing a pilgrimage sounds very romantic, but truthfully, it's probably one of the hardest things that I've ever done, and it's not just the walking that's hard. I think it's the letting go that's the hardest: letting go of the familiar, privacy, comfort, letting go of ever again seeing those that you meet on the way, not pushing away that feeling of utter loneliness that you feel as you stand in the middle of nowhere, unsure of which path to take. Even letting go of my possessions, was not easy. Twice, I packed things up and sent them to Throssel Hole Monastery in Britian. There are many days that I have to walk feeling very cold, but it was necessary to send away things, and lighten my load. The Throssel guestmaster is wondering who this person sending these parcels, is. We've never met.
I've had to let go of my expectations, of how far I shall walk each day, and accept that I am walking this alone. I have to let go of comparisons. Often, I think that I'll be last arriving, only to find out that I'm ahead of those who seemed most fit. Those who seem most cheerful often have tragic stories, such as a child's suicide.
It wasn't until I'd been walking a couple of weeks, that I experienced this acceptance. Now I just walk. Sometimes I'll walk short distances with others, but mostly I walk alone. Some things that have helped with the walking are: drinking more water, wearing my sandals when out of the mud (my toes were very sore), taking an antinflammitory twice a day for my knee, stopping regularily, lightening my load and therefore not having to send my pack ahead, thus making it possible to stop at any point. Not comparing pilgrims, and going only as far as it is good to do, not even worrying about Santiago, or my lack of whatever, just walking is best. I don't know how I finally arrived at that point of acceptance, but it sure is a lot easier than holding on and pushing away the things that we love and dislike.
This too will change. I'm sure of that
Saturday, May 31, 2008
The Long Hard Road
After a lot of persuasion from an Irish lady, I took a 20km bus ride to Viana. It was truly heavenly. What is so wrong with the automobile? The ride was soft and luxuriant and cost only 1.60 euros. At various points of the road, I could look out the window at all the struggling pilgrims on the muddy, slippery paths.
My knee was so painful last night, because of my heavier pack, so I decided to take it easy today. I initially felt guilty, and considered taking the bus back to Los Arcos to do the astuak walking, until I saw the freezing, rain drenched pilgrims arriving at the albergue. I decided against such a move.
Tonight I will sleep in the lower section of a 3-tiered bunk bed that I didn't have to fight for. There will be a scramble for beds tonight though, as there are only 54 beds available. Already a wet pilgrim has arrived and has been turned away.
My Irish friends visited a 'medico' as More's legs had swollen up, dreadfully, followed by a redness. The attending doctor, said that he couldn't help her, and that he believed it to be a sunburn or tendinitis. I didn't agree with his diagnoses, nor did More. I was, however, impressed with the displayed posters which promoted breast feeding. As usual, I photographed them. I was also a little worried about my blood pressure as yesterday, it was elevated, when checked by 'a friend of the pilgrims', in his caravan, by the roadside. Yesterday was a long, hot lonely road and I was about to call it quits.
Most people seem to really love this pilgrimage. Many, not having completed this trip, are. I can't say that I love it, as it's been very difficult. I may see the benefits at a later date. I keep hearing this quote "There ain't no ship that's going to take you away from yourself". I know that that is not an accurate rendition of the quote, but you can see what it's meant to portray.
My knee was so painful last night, because of my heavier pack, so I decided to take it easy today. I initially felt guilty, and considered taking the bus back to Los Arcos to do the astuak walking, until I saw the freezing, rain drenched pilgrims arriving at the albergue. I decided against such a move.
Tonight I will sleep in the lower section of a 3-tiered bunk bed that I didn't have to fight for. There will be a scramble for beds tonight though, as there are only 54 beds available. Already a wet pilgrim has arrived and has been turned away.
My Irish friends visited a 'medico' as More's legs had swollen up, dreadfully, followed by a redness. The attending doctor, said that he couldn't help her, and that he believed it to be a sunburn or tendinitis. I didn't agree with his diagnoses, nor did More. I was, however, impressed with the displayed posters which promoted breast feeding. As usual, I photographed them. I was also a little worried about my blood pressure as yesterday, it was elevated, when checked by 'a friend of the pilgrims', in his caravan, by the roadside. Yesterday was a long, hot lonely road and I was about to call it quits.
Most people seem to really love this pilgrimage. Many, not having completed this trip, are. I can't say that I love it, as it's been very difficult. I may see the benefits at a later date. I keep hearing this quote "There ain't no ship that's going to take you away from yourself". I know that that is not an accurate rendition of the quote, but you can see what it's meant to portray.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
This is the Camino
On the Camino, I spent the first two days solo, walking up the Pyrenees, that is 1442 meters up from St. Jean Pied de Port to Col Lepoeder. There were many pilgrims on the road, whom I spoke with at times.
At Hunto I forgot my poles and had to back track, and thereafter used my 'cbs' method to remember (camera, bag, poles). Being a nurse, I even checked my pulse during the climb, and surprisingly, it was OK. Today while climbing, I realized that I could take the hills fairly effortlessly and could easily hold a conversation while walking. How did this happen? My toes however, are a different story, after an hour or two of walking, they really start to pain, so I stop, remove my boots and socks, give them a rest, and replace my socks with new ones. I've been walking 8-10 hours a day. Some of it is pretty difficult, with miles and miles of up and down slippery rocks and soupy mud. I had no idea that there would be so much mud.
The Pyrenees are extremely beautiful, beyond any description. Soaring eagles, buzzards, hawks and other birds I'm unable to name were seen. I saw a shepherd with his sheep dogs, horses, and countless sheep wearing bells. The sound of them ringing gave the whole scene a lovely atmosphere.
For the past two days, I've been walking with a 60 year old Scottish woman. She too is a nurse, but has one big problem: a huge 'Carrix' cart, similar to what the Cree(?) used to transport heavy loads behind horses. This cart weighs 17.6 kg while empty and 21.8 loaded. Janice has been having it transported to albergues etc. but plans to download tomorrow and with a harness will pull it all the way to Santiago. When I first met Janice, I helped her pull the cart up a hill, but soon handed it back to her. I think that she will be going her own way tomorrow.
We walked 21km today. I'm considering taking it a little easier, and perhaps staying in Pamploma a day. After 2 days of walking I spent my second night in a 120 bed albergue in Roncesvalles. We pilgrims were in 60 ancient bunk beds, which creaked every time you moved. I wasn't sure that I could climb up to mine without a ladder but managed just fine. During the night there was a continuous parade of people going to the washroom and lots of snoring. With burning feet and all the commotion, I slept two hours.
On May 24th, I took the steep descent to Roncesvalles alone, and was overtaken by a violent storm (thunder, lightening, hail, wind). While struggling over slippery rocks and mud, the thought came to my mind that I might die alone in that beastly place or even fall and break something. I survived.
The descent to Zubiri was almost a complete replica of the descent to Roncesvalles, only more violent, with a huge torrent of water rushing down the pathway in front of us, not unlike a flash flood. This time I felt less alone though, as the Scottish woman walked with me. When we arrived at the albergue, soaked and stunned, we were greeted with "completo", and were driven away at 100km/hr in a car with none functioning windshield wipers, and deposited in a hostel.
Have no expectations. Your knees may be better than your feet.
At Hunto I forgot my poles and had to back track, and thereafter used my 'cbs' method to remember (camera, bag, poles). Being a nurse, I even checked my pulse during the climb, and surprisingly, it was OK. Today while climbing, I realized that I could take the hills fairly effortlessly and could easily hold a conversation while walking. How did this happen? My toes however, are a different story, after an hour or two of walking, they really start to pain, so I stop, remove my boots and socks, give them a rest, and replace my socks with new ones. I've been walking 8-10 hours a day. Some of it is pretty difficult, with miles and miles of up and down slippery rocks and soupy mud. I had no idea that there would be so much mud.
The Pyrenees are extremely beautiful, beyond any description. Soaring eagles, buzzards, hawks and other birds I'm unable to name were seen. I saw a shepherd with his sheep dogs, horses, and countless sheep wearing bells. The sound of them ringing gave the whole scene a lovely atmosphere.
For the past two days, I've been walking with a 60 year old Scottish woman. She too is a nurse, but has one big problem: a huge 'Carrix' cart, similar to what the Cree(?) used to transport heavy loads behind horses. This cart weighs 17.6 kg while empty and 21.8 loaded. Janice has been having it transported to albergues etc. but plans to download tomorrow and with a harness will pull it all the way to Santiago. When I first met Janice, I helped her pull the cart up a hill, but soon handed it back to her. I think that she will be going her own way tomorrow.
We walked 21km today. I'm considering taking it a little easier, and perhaps staying in Pamploma a day. After 2 days of walking I spent my second night in a 120 bed albergue in Roncesvalles. We pilgrims were in 60 ancient bunk beds, which creaked every time you moved. I wasn't sure that I could climb up to mine without a ladder but managed just fine. During the night there was a continuous parade of people going to the washroom and lots of snoring. With burning feet and all the commotion, I slept two hours.
On May 24th, I took the steep descent to Roncesvalles alone, and was overtaken by a violent storm (thunder, lightening, hail, wind). While struggling over slippery rocks and mud, the thought came to my mind that I might die alone in that beastly place or even fall and break something. I survived.
The descent to Zubiri was almost a complete replica of the descent to Roncesvalles, only more violent, with a huge torrent of water rushing down the pathway in front of us, not unlike a flash flood. This time I felt less alone though, as the Scottish woman walked with me. When we arrived at the albergue, soaked and stunned, we were greeted with "completo", and were driven away at 100km/hr in a car with none functioning windshield wipers, and deposited in a hostel.
Have no expectations. Your knees may be better than your feet.
Monday, May 26, 2008
The Unpilgrim
After spending 10 days in Paris I took a long ride on the fast train to Bayonne, where I met a couple of English women and an Australian, heading towards St. Jean Pied de Port. They were anxious to begin their pilgrimage, and before I knew it there was a whole bus load of pilgrims. They all seemed so fit, and were wearing all the right clothes, especially the nylon zip-off pants. Mine were my old navy 'villagers', the kind with elastic waists, that old ladies wear when their waists match their busts. My tops were cotton too, not the self wicking ones that the pilgrims wore. On my feet were sandals, but I knew that deep within my bag, stood a pair of German boots that could match any on the Camino. They had a worn look too, because I'd walked in them over a couple months.
I booking in at a hotel, I visited the Albergue which only compounded the feeling of separateness. All the pilgrims, seated around a large table were eating, drinking and laughing. They were having a good time. Finally, unable to tolerate the isolation any longer I walked to the pilgrims office and in broken French attempted to relate my fears of carrying my heavy backpack over the Pyrenees.
....to be continued.
I booking in at a hotel, I visited the Albergue which only compounded the feeling of separateness. All the pilgrims, seated around a large table were eating, drinking and laughing. They were having a good time. Finally, unable to tolerate the isolation any longer I walked to the pilgrims office and in broken French attempted to relate my fears of carrying my heavy backpack over the Pyrenees.
....to be continued.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Supplies
Yesterday I bought most of my supplies that will fill my backpack: a blister pack(not a pill one): which includes 2nd skin, moleskin, iodine for disinfecting a needle, thread, gauze, paper tape, and polysporin. It seems like an awful lot to pack, for the 'possibility' of blisters, but I do want to be prepared .
A pharmacist, who'd walked the Camino, advised me to bring hydrocortisone 1% for bites (bedbugs!, mosquitoes etc.), and chaffing.
I bought a 35 litre backpack, a one pound sleeping bag with silk liner, a pack poncho ( often used as a ground cover, or as a disguise for excretory functions, especially on the meseta), more wool socks, a camel water system, a towel that weighs 2 ounces, a silk night shirt and long johns, and varied clothing items that I'll have to consider before packing them.
Further along Broadway was a shop selling adapters for my camera's battery charger. I bought two adapters, in the event that I may lose one.
A.J. Brooks, where I'd bought my boots a year earlier, kindly, and most graciously stretched the toe of my boots for me. My toes feel much better with the extra room.
It was a very exhausting day with so many options, and my not being completely certain of what I would 'need'. Fortunately I was accompanied and supported, by a former Camino walker.
Preparing is certainly part of the journey.
A pharmacist, who'd walked the Camino, advised me to bring hydrocortisone 1% for bites (bedbugs!, mosquitoes etc.), and chaffing.
I bought a 35 litre backpack, a one pound sleeping bag with silk liner, a pack poncho ( often used as a ground cover, or as a disguise for excretory functions, especially on the meseta), more wool socks, a camel water system, a towel that weighs 2 ounces, a silk night shirt and long johns, and varied clothing items that I'll have to consider before packing them.
Further along Broadway was a shop selling adapters for my camera's battery charger. I bought two adapters, in the event that I may lose one.
A.J. Brooks, where I'd bought my boots a year earlier, kindly, and most graciously stretched the toe of my boots for me. My toes feel much better with the extra room.
It was a very exhausting day with so many options, and my not being completely certain of what I would 'need'. Fortunately I was accompanied and supported, by a former Camino walker.
Preparing is certainly part of the journey.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Gratitude
I awoke with a heavy feeling today, thinking it quite bizarre that some of us, in our rich society, place ourselves in a 'chop wood, carry water' situation so that we can really experience 'life'.
I no longer have to worry about my basic needs, however, on my pilgrimage, I will be concerned with such things.
What got me to thinking about such matters, was a documentary: "Long Way Round".
In the film, Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman travel via motorcycle around the world. While in Mongolia they meet street orphans, abandoned by their parents, who are so desperately poor that they are neither able to feed themselves nor their children. The tiny two year old girl (the same age as my granddaughter), who could only speak to one caregiver, brought tears to my eyes. Equally as heart- rending, were my imaginations of the anguish, that the parents must be experiencing.
"No matter how hard or heart-rending it is to live,
Do not wear a tearful face.
Let's keep walking steadily
And live out our lives."
I am grateful for my life.
Ruth
I no longer have to worry about my basic needs, however, on my pilgrimage, I will be concerned with such things.
What got me to thinking about such matters, was a documentary: "Long Way Round".
In the film, Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman travel via motorcycle around the world. While in Mongolia they meet street orphans, abandoned by their parents, who are so desperately poor that they are neither able to feed themselves nor their children. The tiny two year old girl (the same age as my granddaughter), who could only speak to one caregiver, brought tears to my eyes. Equally as heart- rending, were my imaginations of the anguish, that the parents must be experiencing.
"No matter how hard or heart-rending it is to live,
Do not wear a tearful face.
Let's keep walking steadily
And live out our lives."
I am grateful for my life.
Ruth
Saturday, March 29, 2008
walking
I've been walking around New Westminster, doing a couple of passes up and down 4th st. which comprises of a killer hill, that begins at the Fraser River, and rises rapidly over five very short blocks. Descending is most difficult on old knees. Ascending involves getting going and building up cardio, which is always possible. Changing your knee anatomy is a little more difficult.
I can always recognize those who walk the hill daily. Their walking appears effortless.
Recently I've been using my Nordic walkers. While climbing the 4th street hill, at 11pm!, I was asked by a passerby "Where are your skis?" I was tempted to reply "At Riverview", a nearby hospital for the mentally ill.
With my headband, loaded pack, "ski polls", the hill, and the lateness of the night, I must have looked like I'd lost my mind. Actually, I had combined my walk with a check on my daughter's nearby apartment, as she is away at Shasta Abbey.
I can always recognize those who walk the hill daily. Their walking appears effortless.
Recently I've been using my Nordic walkers. While climbing the 4th street hill, at 11pm!, I was asked by a passerby "Where are your skis?" I was tempted to reply "At Riverview", a nearby hospital for the mentally ill.
With my headband, loaded pack, "ski polls", the hill, and the lateness of the night, I must have looked like I'd lost my mind. Actually, I had combined my walk with a check on my daughter's nearby apartment, as she is away at Shasta Abbey.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Getting Ready
I've been mentally preparing for this trip for sometime now, however, I still have doubts as to the sanity of an old woman with worn out knees and other signs of impermanence, doing such a trip.
After two tries, I seem to have found good walking boots, however, I still worry when my toes start hurting with socks too tight. I've found some merino wool socks that seem to be the best. Good, leather, German boots (Meindl), are what I've been wearing. My first pair was my usual size. The second pair is one half size larger than I usually wear. I actually think that I could have gone up one whole size.
Less than fifteen pounds would be an ideal weight for my backpack. I've even discovered a one pound sleeping bag which is only good at 7 degrees F. and beyond. May and June are notoriously warm in Spain, but I've heard that the albuergues are often unheated and very cold.
The climate conditions are quite varied, so I have to prepare for the rain as well, especially in Galicia.
I will soon have a compact digital camera, a great change for someone who loves black and white film and an SLR camera. For the pilgrimage I do not want photography to be my focus, nor do I want to carry a 3 Lb camera (my Nikon SLR).
After two tries, I seem to have found good walking boots, however, I still worry when my toes start hurting with socks too tight. I've found some merino wool socks that seem to be the best. Good, leather, German boots (Meindl), are what I've been wearing. My first pair was my usual size. The second pair is one half size larger than I usually wear. I actually think that I could have gone up one whole size.
Less than fifteen pounds would be an ideal weight for my backpack. I've even discovered a one pound sleeping bag which is only good at 7 degrees F. and beyond. May and June are notoriously warm in Spain, but I've heard that the albuergues are often unheated and very cold.
The climate conditions are quite varied, so I have to prepare for the rain as well, especially in Galicia.
I will soon have a compact digital camera, a great change for someone who loves black and white film and an SLR camera. For the pilgrimage I do not want photography to be my focus, nor do I want to carry a 3 Lb camera (my Nikon SLR).
Monday, March 24, 2008
Best Foot Forward
I'm not totally certain why I'm walking the Camino, but it is the first time in my life that I have an uncommitted period of time. Most of my life has been lived looking after family, both as a child, and as a parent. After forty years of caring for the sick, most recently, the dying and their families, I was relieved of these duties, when I myself, was diagnosed with breast cancer. Seeing my own impermanence gave me cause to reflect.
To me, the Camino will be a way of living life reduced to it's basics: walking, eating and sleeping, and will provide a great opportunity for walking meditation.
I have no expectations, but will try my best to make it to Santiago.
To me, the Camino will be a way of living life reduced to it's basics: walking, eating and sleeping, and will provide a great opportunity for walking meditation.
I have no expectations, but will try my best to make it to Santiago.
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