It’s been a while since I last posted. Entirely my fault; I should have known better than to try and post daily when I was spending most of the day walking, eating, sleeping or otherwise recovering from walking. Not to mention socialising and intermittent internet. The multi-day post format worked better on my Noma trip (www.allroadsleadtonoma.com) as I was able to take notes over the days and compile a more concise post – rather than ‘Dear diary, X, Y and Z happened today’ repeated daily. Trying to post daily inevitably leads to expounding on mundane events (‘Saw a donkey today.’) that would otherwise be reserved for greater occurrences. Not that mundane events are inherently bad, but they need to have some connection and relevance. I’ve seen the daily post format work well, but it needs to be seriously brief and minimalist. No photos, composed on phone, et cetera. Probably a more sensible choice for the Camino. Oh well. I still have plenty of material from the Camino days; I’ll wrap up the last nine days in this post and then try and continue as ‘normal’.
So, a brief update: I made it as far as Oviedo, in the Asturian heartland – just over 400km into the northern route, and about 400km from Santiago – before being forced to return home by circumstances outside of my control. I walked for 19 days – more or less on-schedule, with a rest day or two included to make the most of the country I was passing through.
I flew back in to Lisbon one week later with my brother, Miles. We had considered finishing the Camino together, but decided instead on a more varied trip. Neither of us felt like slogging through mountains for three weeks. Writing this now, a month-and-a-half after coming back to Europe, I think that was the right choice. We travelled from Lisbon down to Lagos and Sagres in the sun-baked Algarve, before heading east into southern Spain. We passed through Seville, Cordoba, Ronda and Malaga before arriving in La Linea de Conception, just a few hundred metres from the border with Gibraltar. From there I found a ride on a Norwegian catamaran headed to the Canaries, and spent six days at sea under the stars and sun. I lingered too long in Gran Canaria – almost two weeks – and now find myself in the foothills of southern Morocco, in a tiny mountain town called Tafraout. From here, I’ll summarise the last two months over the next few posts…
The rest of the Camino passed in a slow-motion blur, in that all the daily events that seemed so significant at the time now meld together into one big lump of time. Time during which the routine reigns supreme: the early starts, café con leches, walking ten kilometres before breakfast, enormous dinners, endless hills and beautiful scenery. With the exception of some unique events, though, it’s startling how much it all just blends together. Looking back over photographs I took, I can still reconstruct individual days, but they’re all inevitably variants of scenery, walking and food.
It’s worth mentioning the best albergue I stayed at: La Cabana de Abuelo Peuto in Guemes. It was on about day 12, and I almost didn’t stop there. During a particularly sunny stretch I came across an old church which had been repurposed for an ‘exhibition of the Camino’. It showcased the last 18 years of one albergue’s guestbook; the highlights in terms of drawings and heartfelt messages. And impressive it was, with messages from all over the world – ranging from deep and meaningful quotes with pictures of sunsets to one-liner jokes and New-Yorker-style cartoons.
Going back through these pictures and my notebooks now, I still can distinguish the days from one another. Things always stand out – a particularly good pilgrim’s menu with roasted pork ribs, or an interesting discussion with a person, a friendly animal or an uncommonly picturesque view. I suppose that’s what makes it unique – everybody walks the same path, to the same goal, but always for different reasons. And everybody has a different experience, different highlights. I met some people who just wanted to rack up kilometres and push themselves physically, others who had their bags carted ahead.
From Poo, I caught a local bus – the Asturian coast is surprisngly well-connected – into the hub of Oviedo. It’s a large, sprawling city which manages, like most mountainous Spanish cities, to fill up its alotted valley with mid-rise apartment buildings. I farewelled the people I’d spent the last week with at a local market – but not before making the most of said market.
As I rose up out of Oviedo, bound for a convoluted series of flight connections that would take me to Australia, my Camino came to an end. I didn’t – and still don’t – see it as a failure that I didn’t reach Santiago. At some point in my life I will, but for now I’m perfectly fine with leaving it where I did. Below are some further thoughts and brief reflections on the Camino, given the months I’ve had to think about it.
Reflections on a Camino
My time on the Camino was memorable, not only for the walking itself and the realities of day-to-day life but for the tapestry of people you meet along the way. But I did not find it as enjoyable or fulfilling as I had expected. Perhaps I was not ready or properly prepared. I certainly felt like I lacked a serious enough reason for walking. Many people I met seemed to be walking in reflection of a marriage or working life. I felt eager to be done with the Camino so I could go and live the life and have the adventures these people were reflecting upon. Certainly, there were enjoyable moments: the satisfaction of a day’s walk completed, the ridiculous volume of delicious food we were able to eat, the coffee breaks and pastries, the cross-section of interesting people. But I lacked an overall satisfaction. Instead, paradoxically, I felt restless, like I wanted to go off and travel ‘properly’ instead of being chained to the routine of following yellow arrows day in and day out. I may go back to properly ‘finish’ the Camino. But not before I know I’m ready; that I actually want to.
Enough people before me have waxed lyrical about the life of a pilgrim, carrying one’s house on one’s back, the quiet determination on the road to Santiago – so I will not. Perhaps my words are invalidated by my not reaching Santiago, but I found that the whole thing was, at its core, just a long walk. You get up early, you eat local food and hot coffee, you put one foot in front of the other day after day and you inch closer to your destination. There’s nothing inherently right or wrong with that, it just is. A lot of it is enjoyable, some of it not. Many of the people I met were on a spiritual journey – of self-discovery, of penance, of healing, of reflection. But when all seated in a circle at the end of the day, invariably asking one another, ‘So, why are you doing the Camino?’, I found myself saying – depending on the company – ‘I don’t know’ or ‘Because I’m an idiot’. It’s not a sane thing to do, to subject oneself to walking, day after day, with all your possessions on your back. And yet, just shy of 300,000 people will walk the Camino this year.
‘Til next time,