Nadine Walks - stories of trekking and travel

Making our choices

April 12, 2018

When I haven’t written in awhile, I like to begin a post with where I am, and what I’m doing. It centers me, it gives me a place to start. It sets the scene.

And while I wish I could be reporting in from some exotic place (or, Europe, which is still quite exotic in my mind), I’m where I usually am at this time of the year. Sitting at my kitchen table, the one that’s covered with a bright yellow table cloth. There’s a dill plant on the table that my mom gave me this past weekend (so if any of you have recipes you love that feature dill, I’d love for you to share them!). Playing on Spotify is Phoebe Bridgers’s album, Stranger in the Alps, and I’m eating some crackers and cheese and drinking a glass of seltzer with lime.

What else can I tell you? It’s 6:15pm and the sun is shining and it’s so nice to have these longer hours of daylight, and the approach of a warm spring. It’s been a slow approach, and not consistently warm yet, but I think those days are right around the corner.

It feels as though so much is right around the corner, and that’s a good feeling. Two weeks ago I took a small trip to the mountains of Virginia, where I hiked and explored and did a little writing and took stock of the first three months of the year. And then I thought about what the focus of the next few months would be about, and all of a sudden it felt like time was moving quickly. Even though work is busy and my days feel full and I can’t wait until I head off to Europe in mid-June, I also want to slow time. Not the days, necessarily, but the years. I want to slow down the years.

Where am I heading with this? I don’t know. Today, a student I work with was telling me how much trouble she’s having about choosing between two colleges. “Why can’t someone just decide for me?” she said.

I looked at her. “Because it’s the first really big decision that you have to make on your own. It’s practice for life, in a way. Because actually, besides loss, I think that’s one of the hardest things about life. You have your one life, and you have to figure out what you’re going to do with it. You’ve got to make decisions about which direction to take and no one does it for you.”

She buried her head on the couch and I heard her muffled voice from under the pillow. “Why if I choose wrong? It’s so hard because I don’t get this time back. And I don’t want to waste it.”

We don’t get time back. Maybe this is one of the hardest things about life, too. I think about this a lot, with where I am in my life, with the things I want to do, with what I want for myself. I want to be doing exactly what I’m doing now: working with kids and living in my beautiful neighborhood and visiting my friends and family and traveling in the summers and writing in the evenings at my kitchen table. And, also, I want to live in a tiny attic apartment in Paris and buy a baguette every day from the corner boulangerie and write a novel. And, also, I want to be married and raise a child and buy a small home somewhere close to the woods and a lake.

And I want to hike the Appalachian Trail (maybe). And I want to see a giant panda in China. And I want to live in Maine. And I want to set up a darkroom and develop pictures and have exhibits in local cafes and galleries. And I want to have dinner parties and children’s birthday parties. And I want a garden. And I want a yard with a magnolia tree.

Sometimes it feels like to chose any one of these things means to give up another. Sometimes I think I have the time to do everything. Sometimes I worry that it’s already too late.

I don’t have much regret with the choices I’ve made so far in my life, but what does sometimes keep me up at night is the thought that my time is so precious. It’s so, so precious. I like what I’m doing and how I’m living but there is always a voice whispering, “And what else? And what else? And when? And when?”

I don’t have any big changes just on the horizon, but I also know that time does not wait for me. I have to make my choices even if it means that one choice might eliminate another. I have to make my choices because one choice might lead to another. I have to make my choices because time marches on, and the years in my one life slide by, and slide by, and slide by.

The years slide by, but to have this time at all is such a gift. What a beautiful thing, to get to make choices in my life. To be free, to have an education, a roof over my head and crackers and cheese on the table before me. To get to choose my direction, to have so many choices.

So, happy spring my friends, here’s to another season, the one that ushers in new life and growth. Let’s make our choices, and see where they take us.

Ode to the Keen Voyageur; a Camino shoe review

February 27, 2018

They say that the two most important items on a Camino (or, any long-distance walk) are your backpack and your shoes.

I’d have to agree with this, though I’d probably go a step further and say that the most important items are your shoes. A well-fitted pack can really help you in your journey, but I think you can get by with just lightening your load and adjusting your straps in the right way.

But the shoes? In the wrong pair of shoes, you are probably going to run into trouble. Shoes that are too tight can cause blisters, shoes that are too loose can cause blisters, not to mention other annoying problems (and Camino-ending injuries like tendonitis).

As I prepared for my first Camino, I knew how important finding the right pair of shoes was going to be, but I was nervous. Even in my every day life, I have trouble finding shoes that fit my wide feet (though this isn’t helped by the fact that I get discouraged very easily when I go shopping). My solution is to slap on a pair of flip flops and call it a day.

But this strategy would not work on the Camino.

I went to REI and walked around the store in a dozen different shoes, most of them trail runners that were recommended to me when I mentioned that I would be walking the Camino. A trail runner is light weight and would keep my feet cool when walking during the hot summer months, and one pair in particular felt great on my feet. It was a pair of Salomons, and I forked over some cash, took them home, and over the next few weeks wore them on my training hikes.

Before long I had the same problem that I’ve had with so many other shoes in my life: what once felt great in the store, soon began to pinch against the sides of my toes and the widest part of my foot. I knew that my feet would swell even more on a month-long walk than on a 5-mile training hike, so back they went to REI.

On my next visit, I decided to look at the hiking shoes, rather than the trail runners. I knew I didn’t want to buy a boot (there may be others who have had success in boots, but if you’re going to do a long-distance walk in hot summer months, I would stay away from boots), but there was this category of shoes that seemed to be something between a sneaker and a boot.

A hiking shoe. That seemed right.

I bought a lime green/gray pair of Keen Voyageurs and I never looked back. That was 4 years ago, and I’ve gone through 4 pairs of the exact same shoe. In a week or two, I’ll be buying my 5th pair.

I’ve mentioned these shoes a lot on this blog, and I’m going to go a little more in-depth here. I know that this shoe isn’t going to work for everyone, but if I had read somewhere that this was a great shoe for a wide-footed-long-distance-walker, then I probably would have started here, and saved some of the hassle and discouragement of searching through other shoes first.

First up, some specs: The Keen Voyageur is a low-profile hiking shoe, with water resistant leather material, mesh insets, removable metatomical dual density EVA footbeds (I have no idea what all of this means, but I do know that these footbeds provide really good arch support). They have a wide toe box and a high traction rubber outsole, which means the shoe has good grip on rough terrain, and they weigh in at 13.3 ounces.

Here’s what I make of all of this: the shoe is sturdy and supportive, but also breathable and lighter than a hiking boot. The weight took a bit of getting used to, but not in any big way. You’ll notice that they are heavier than a sneaker, but it’s a quick adjustment.

Thoughts on breathability (I might be making up this term): this was an important factor for me, especially since I was walking in the summer. If the shoe didn’t allow for much air circulation, then I knew my feet would get really hot and this could potentially (and most likely) cause blisters. And my verdict was that I think the mesh on the shoe allows for just enough air to keep my feet cool (enough). A sneaker or a trail running shoe is going to be even more breathable and much cooler on the foot, but as long as I took off my shoes while I was on breaks, my feet were fine, and never too hot. Over 4 summers of long-distance trekking, I’ve only gotten one problematic blister (on the bottom of my foot) which I think was due more to high mileage at the beginning of my pilgrimage, some rocky and uneven terrain, and not stopping enough for breaks than it was due to the shoes.

Thoughts on waterproofing: First of all, this shoe is not waterproof. I remember there being a lot of talk about this in REI, and it was making my head spin. The Voyageur is a water resistant shoe, which is why this shoe is much more breathable than a boot or a waterproof shoe. Basically, ‘water resistant’ is on the bottom rung of the water protection ladder. It won’t keep out water in the same way that a waterproof or water repellent shoe will, but they are designed to protect your feet from minimal water exposure.

My experience: when I walked in a light rain or a mist, the Keens kept my socks and feet dry. It was only walking in heavier rain for hours that left my socks damp and/or downright wet. I had day after day of rain this past summer on the Chemin du Puy, and my socks were never more than a bit damp and that never caused blisters. It was only on my first day on the Camino del Norte, when I walked in heavy rain all morning, that I could feel water squishing out of my socks with every step I took. Now, I haven’t walked in a ton of rain on my trips, but I have walked in England and in Scotland, and my feet have stayed pretty dry (my friend Heather even marveled at my dry socks after a wet morning on Hadrian’s Way. She was wearing sneakers, and her socks were pretty wet). So with a little over 100 days of walking on long-distance trails over the past 4 years and only one day of wet feet? I think those are pretty good odds.

Thoughts on performance: Having never actually hiked in any other shoe or boot, I have nothing to compare these to. All I can say is that I love the Keens for walking and hiking. The grip does well on rocky surfaces, the shoe isn’t too heavy but it is supportive. I suspect that I have rather sturdy ankles (no one will ever call my feet elegant), but I’ve never fallen or twisted an ankle, and I do think a supportive shoe helps prevent this. Now, if you’re going to go hiking in the wilderness for hundreds of miles I can’t exactly attest to how well these shoes will do- that might be a situation that calls for a hiking boot. But for long-distance walking over different types of terrain, including pavement, this shoe holds up extremely well.

I get a new pair every year because I put a lot of miles on them, and the tread begins to wear. I’m finally counting my miles this year so I don’t have exact numbers yet, but I’d say that I average at least 1,500 miles in them every year. If you’re looking for a pair of hiking shoes to use for shorter distances (or just for walking around!), then I’m sure these will hold up for several years.

Thoughts on sizing and fit: The wide toe box was the big selling point of this shoe for me, and I almost couldn’t trust it. Would a shoe really give me enough room across the widest part of my foot, and not squeeze my toes together like so many of the other shoes in my life? Even with some foot swelling on the very hottest summer days, the shoes never cramped my feet or gave me any nasty blisters. Now, it’s probably important to mention that I order a half size larger than my regular size (I’m an 8 1/2, and order a 9 in these shoes); this extra space is to account for any swelling that I might encounter on a long distance walk. I may have to come back and update this post, because I’ve read rumors that this year (2018), the shoe is running smaller than normal, so it might be necessary to go up yet another half size.

One other note is lacing (though this can apply to any shoe, not just the Keens); before my first Camino, the good people of REI taught me a special way to tie my laces that helped lock down my heel. Then, before my third Camino (I think?), I encountered some pain on the top of my foot whenever I hiked, so I learned that I could skip a couple of the loopholes so that the top of the shoe didn’t press down on my foot. All this is to say that the difference between an almost perfect shoe and a perfect shoe may all be in the way you tie your laces. (This sort of sounds like a metaphor for something…)

Finally, while I typically give myself at least 1-2 months to break in these shoes before I take them on a Camino, I’ve read reviews that state they can be worn straight out of the box. I’d still recommend breaking in any pair of shoes before a long trek, or to at least make sure you wear them enough to know if they’re a good fit for your feet.

I encountered a bit of Camino magic with these shoes; towards the end of my first day on the Camino Frances, while I was on the descent to Roncesvalles, I noticed a girl walking ahead of me. I caught up to her and we smiled at each other shyly, and then I looked down at her feet. She was wearing an identical pair of Keen Voyageurs! I commented on them, and then we continued to walk together for the next two weeks (until she ended her Camino in Burgos). She was my first, and one of my best Camino friends.

But it’s not just pilgrims on the Camino who wear these shoes; I’ve recommended them to friends and family, and my mother is about to buy her second pair. They are a supportive and comfortable shoe that can be used for every day wear, they can be taken on a walk around the block, and they can be taken on a walk across Spain.

The Keen Voyageurs aren’t for everyone, but if you’re planning a Camino or are in the market for a new pair of shoes, I think they’re worth a try. I can’t sing their praises enough.

Happy walking!

(Note: Some of the links in this post are affiliate links; if you purchase something through one of these links, a small advertising fee will come to me, at no additional cost to you)

“Going Back Again”; Thoughts on Repeating Travel Experiences

February 19, 2018

The older I get, the more I keep learning about myself.

I thought I would have had at least the most obvious things about myself figured out by now- I am, after all, well into my 30’s and while I hopefully have a lot of life left to live, I’ve also been around the sun a few times now, enough to know some basic truths.

Like… I still really like the color yellow. And giant pandas and wearing flip flops and listening to the Beatles. At my core, I’m optimistic and friendly and always try to see the best in people. I really like people, but I’m also an introvert, so I can’t be around them all the time.

Stuff like that.

But then there are the things that should be obvious, and when I finally pick up on my own patterns it’s like something had to smack me over the head to make me see what should have been apparent years and years ago.

There was this day when I was out for a walk, it was probably 3 or 4 years ago, and it came to me in a flash, this realization, this truth: I love trees. And I had always loved them, I have very distinct memories of riding my bike around my neighborhood as a child, and always making a point to notice my favorite trees. And the magnolia that grew in our backyard, how I would marvel every spring at the petals that would seem to burst into bloom overnight, and if I looked out my brother’s bedroom window the view would be nothing but those pink petals, it was like magic. And more and more examples of things like this but it wasn’t until recently that I actually realized: ‘Oh, I like trees.’

Bear with me through this meandering introduction to what this post is really about; it’s been a long day. (Or, maybe, it’s just been a long winter and I feel very out of practice with crafting a blog post).

My thoughts have been on traveling lately, as I look ahead to this summer and try to figure out what I want to do and where I want to go. Here’s what I do know: almost inevitably, I’ll be headed back to Europe again.

I say ‘inevitably’ because, while there are other places in the world that I’d really like to travel to, I’m still very drawn to Europe.

And of course I am! Because when it comes to things I love, I’m a repeater.

Maybe there’s a real and technical term for this, but for now I’ll just stick with ‘repeater’. I repeat experiences, I go back, I return… and I love doing this.

I think the psychology of this is really interesting, but I’ll save that for another post. For now, I’m just struck by how often I’ve repeated experiences in my life when I could have been off trying new things or going to new places, and it’s like it just now occurred to me that this has been a pattern for a long, long time. And so maybe it does make some sense that I keep returning to Europe, that I keep returning to the Camino, that I keep returning to my writer’s retreat at La Muse, that I keep returning to Paris and to France.

Another trip to Paris

Maybe this predilection was set for me as a child; when I look at my very earliest experiences of the joy of returning to a place, I think of the beach vacations my family would take every summer. We’d load into our station wagon (three kids across the back seat and we all dreaded being in the middle), and drive 10 hours down to North Carolina- just above or below the Outer Banks, I’m not quite sure exactly where we were- and we’d rent the same beach house and spend a week with my extended family.

I adored these trips, and one of my strongest memories is the mounting excitement I’d feel as our car crossed the bridge over to Emerald Isle, as we’d approach our rental, as I’d walk in the door and run around the rooms and look for all of the familiar things. The couches! The sailboat mirror! The spiral staircase! The room with the bunk beds! It felt like another home, and returning there felt a little like being home. And there were the reunions with the people I loved, too: my cousins, the girl next door (whose family rented the same house at the same time every year just like us, and we’d write to each other throughout the year- “Remember the 10th!” we would always sign off, and I still remember that beautiful day when the waves were calm and the sun was warm and at 11 years old we couldn’t imagine anything more perfect).

So, you know, I’ve been doing this for a long time- settling into a place and learning to love it. The physicality of it, the features, the feelings, the people. And because of those beach vacations, this tendency is linked strongly to travel. When I experience something beautiful in some ‘other’ place, I form a connection with it, and I am drawn- strongly- to return.

My summer trips have been following a pattern lately: a long walk, and then several weeks at La Muse. Or La Muse, and then a long walk. And that’s going to be the case again this summer. La Muse is already set, this will be my fourth time there, and the third year in a row that I’ve spent my July in the hills of the Montagne Noir in southern France.

Why do I go back? The feelings I have as I sit in the Jeep driving up the winding roads towards Labastide are the very same ones I had as a child when we’d arrive at our beach house. I look for all the familiar landmarks in those hills, I look for the sign saying that we’ve arrived, I look for Homer and I look for my friends and I suck in my breath when I walk onto the terrace, I breath the air that smells faintly of chestnut trees and lavender. I’m going to be staying in the same room this summer as I did last summer, and this feels like a sort of home to me, a room that- for a moment- is all mine. A place I can return to where I feel so happy, like the best version of myself.

And it’s not just La Muse. I thought to write about all of this tonight because, as I plan out my summer, I’m also trying to decide on which Camino I might want to walk. I was starting to feel rather committed to trying out a new path- the Camino Aragones (a 165km path that crosses the Pyrenees to the south of St Jean Pied de Port, and links up to the Camino Frances in Puente La Reina). This would be a great option, given my time frame- travel days not included, I have 7 days to walk after my stay at La Muse. And this would be a new experience, the path is supposed to be beautiful, the pilgrim infrastructure good, the Camino spirit strong.

All of this, and yet, I think I might want to walk the beginning of the Norte again.

It’s a thought that’s been nagging at me, and I keep pushing it back, telling myself that it’s too soon to repeat a path, that there are too many new ones out there for me to try, that there’s no point to repeating something again so soon. I walked the Camino del Norte from Irun to Oviedo in 2015 (and then finished the rest of the route in 2016), so it’s only been a few years. And if I’m being honest, I could easily repeat any of the walks I’ve done since I started this Camino thing (including the long-distance treks I’ve done in Scotland and England), so why am I feeling so drawn to the Norte?

I’m not sure, but I don’t know that I need an answer. I think with a lot of things in life- and especially with a Camino- it’s important to listen to whatever is calling you. And I think the only reason that I’m hesitating is because it is, yet again, another experience that I’m going to be repeating.

I’m curious what all of your thoughts are about repeating experiences, especially as it relates to traveling. Would you return, again and again, to a place or a city or a country that you know you love? Or would you feel like it’s more valuable to always travel somewhere new and different? Does it depend on what you want out of the experience?

If I do the Norte again, I’m sure I’ll put my own unique twist on it, something different than the last time I walked. And I’m sure that the entire experience will be different- with any luck, my first day out of Irun will have good weather and outstanding views, something I missed that first time around (oh, the rain and the fog, and the wringing of socks in the middle of a field). My plans aren’t set- I still have months until I have to make any decisions- but I’m really leaning towards walking part of this path again. And right now, it’s putting a smile on my face. It feels right.

Sometimes that’s all we really have to go on, isn’t it? Just a feeling, some push in our gut that tells us we’re on the right track.

And I can see how this is important to me, to the person that I’ve always been- the one who likes giant pandas and magnolia trees and beach houses with spiral staircases- that the return to a place I love allows me to fall into an even richer experience of that place, a deeper connection, a return to my best self, a reminder of where I’ve been and maybe even where I’m going.

Yes, a reminder of where I might be going. A yellow arrow, a marker, to guide me along my way.

24 little nuggets of wisdom for walking the Camino de Santiago

February 7, 2018

I’ve been talking to several people lately who are going to embark on their first Camino sometime later this year. I love hearing their enthusiasm, their questions, their worries, and it makes me remember those months before my own pilgrimage. There was so much I didn’t know, so much research I tried to do, so much I learned in such a short amount of time.

But I couldn’t learn it all, and there was so much I needed to figure out along the way. And so because I’m in a very nostalgic mood, I thought I would put together a list of tips that I gathered as I walked the Camino Frances. This is not a very informative or even necessarily helpful sort of post, so if you’re in serious preparation mode right now, then you might find more help elsewhere. But it was stuff like this that I remember reading before my first Camino, the kinds of words and images that made me think- “Am I actually about to be doing all of these things? Am I going to be having these experiences?” And I could feel the little ball of excitement in my chest expand.

So here they are, 24 little nuggets of wisdom for walking the Camino de Santiago:

Begin with a single step.

Your walking stick might just become your new best friend.

I may or may not have shipped the piece of wood I plucked off a hillside in Northern Spain home to the States…

Hang out with people in a different age bracket than you.

Fill up/top off your water bottle every time you pass a fountain. There should be plenty of fountains along the way, but this ensures that you always have more than you need.

Bring an empty container along with you on the day that you pass by the wine fountain. (I’m not necessarily saying that you should fill it up and drink it during the day’s walk, but rather that it will be convenient to have a vessel for sampling the wine. Or, you could be like me, and just stick your face under the wine stream and hope that you don’t make a mess. There’s a picture of me doing this, but it will never, ever see the light of day).

Whenever possible, stop for second breakfast. I didn’t even realize this was a thing until I walked the Camino, and once I did, it quickly became my favorite thing.

Soak your bare feet in every cool stream that you pass.

Sleep in the bunk by the window: you might be able to watch the moon and the stars, plus you might be able to have some control over whether the window is opened or closed (hint: crowded albergues on hot nights = open windows. But not all pilgrims may agree…)

In larger towns/cities, look for the menu del dia. Similar to the pilgrim menu, it tends to offer higher quality, regional food at a fabulous deal.

If you come across an albergue offering a communal meal, stop here and dine with your fellow pilgrims, and always offer to help prep and clean up.

Don’t be tempted to think that a donativo albergue means a free albergue. Pay what you think the service and accommodations are worth; some of my best experiences were in donativo albergues, with kind hospitaleros, communal dinners, coffee and toast in the morning, a generous spirit and a sense of community and care. You can certainly choose to drop only a few coins into the can, but I’d encourage everyone to take a moment and think about what the experience was worth to you. Without ample donations, these albergues will struggle to remain operational.

Even if you’re not typically an early riser, do it anyway, and walk at sunrise. The sun will be at your back, so don’t forget to turn around and take in the splendor.

You’ll get a deeper tan on the left side of your body than on your right. I have no tips for this. And unless you wear sandals, you’ll get an intense sock tan. Even in the depths of winter, I can still see my Camino sock tan.

Take the detour.

Eunate is closed on Mondays. Go there anyway.

Magnum White ice cream bars are the best thing you’ll ever taste on a summer day on the Meseta.

Don’t dread the Meseta. The path through this stretch of land known as the breadbasket of Spain may be long and straight and monotonous, but there is great opportunity for insight here. Use the time to walk alone, walk in step with the rising sun, and consider the world around you. Consider the world inside yourself, too.

Visit the chickens in the church in Santo Domingo, and consider the miracles in your own life.

Whenever you stop for a break, take off your shoes and socks and let your feet air out. This can help prevent blisters! Plus, it just feels really good to feel fresh air between your toes. (Also, consider coating your feet with a thin layer of Vaseline before putting your socks back on. I’m convinced it helped me avoid (most) blisters).

Push your limits. This could mean a lot of things: a 40km day, making a friend who doesn’t speak your language, trusting that you’ll find a place to sleep even if all the albergues are full, accepting help from a stranger.

Try the pulpo.

Consider yourself lucky if you happen upon a festival in a small village while walking to Santiago. And always stop for awhile and join in the festivities.

Embrace the rain (I’m still working on this one).

Always, always, walk your own Camino. This is the most important one, which means that you can feel free to ignore all of the tips above. Everyone will have opinions, and everyone will have the things that work for them (boots vs sneakers, sock liners, bed bug prevention, how many km per day to walk, how fast/slow you should go, carrying your pack/shipping it ahead, etc). One of the most beautiful things about the Camino is that you can do this pilgrimage any way you want, any way you need. No one walks your Camino, but you.

If you’ve already walked the Camino, what are some of your favorite little nuggets of wisdom?

Planning a Walk on Hadrian’s Wall Path

January 19, 2018

One of my intentions with this blog is to begin to provide more useful content for others who are planning their own long-distance walking adventures, and so in this spirit, I’m going to be writing up a few short guides to some of the walks that I’ve done. And first up: how to plan for a walk on Hadrian’s Wall!

Along with a friend, I walked Hadrian’s Wall Path in the north of England over the course of 5-days in early April, 2017. I loved it. Originally it was a trip that I’d been planning to do solo, but when my friend heard of my scheme she asked to come along, and it was great to have some company. But because I do the majority of my traveling and walking alone, I want to point out that Hadrian’s Wall would be an absolutely fine walk to do solo; it is safe, not too difficult, and the people of northern England were so welcoming and friendly and helpful.

Here are my posts from the walk, with general thoughts and impressions of the route and my experiences:

Day 1: A Walking Stick and a Loaf of Bread; Newcastle-upon-Tyne to Heddon-on-the-Wall, 15 miles

Day 2: Beware of Shortcuts; Heddon-on-the-Wall to Grindon, 23 miles

Day 3: Hold Onto Your Hat!; Grindon to Gilsland, 15 miles

Day 4: Adventures in the Rain; Gilsland to Carlisle, 20 miles

Day 5: A Race to the End; Carlisle to Bowness-on-Solway, 15 miles

Let’s start here: what exactly is Hadrian’s Wall?

In 122AD, Emperor Hadrian gave orders to build a wall to mark the northern limits of his empire, in order to protect Roman England from the tribes of the north (what is now Scotland). The Wall stretched from one end of the country to the other: 84-miles/135km from Wallsend to Bowness-on-Solway (or, the other way around if walking west to east). This path was designated a National Trail in 2003, and was carefully designed to follow the path of the wall. Only 10-continuous miles of the actual remains of the wall are visible, but these are glorious miles and spotting remnants in other areas of the walk makes it like a fun, centuries old treasure hunt.

In its heyday, the Wall was an impressive work of defense: it stood at 20 feet high and 10 feet thick, with a 20 foot ditch on the ‘Scottish’ side, and milecastles, turrets and forts sprinkled along its length to provide extra fortification. There is a long history of how the wall survived and did not survive the centuries that followed, and now what is left is just a trace of what it once was. But the Wall was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and great care has been taken to preserve what remains.

How difficult is this walk, and what is the terrain like?

My answer: not that difficult. In fact, Hadrian’s Wall is largely considered the least difficult of all the National Trails in the UK. Now, a walk can be made considerably easier or difficult due to several factors: if camping or staying in B&Bs, if carrying your pack or having it shipped ahead (info on that here), if you complete the walk in 4 days vs 8 days (more on this later). But aside from a few sections of constant up and down, much of the walk is relatively flat, or over easy rolling countryside. My guidebook has these words of encouragement: “… a week-long romp on a grassy path through rolling countryside with the highest point, Green Slack, just 345m above sea level.”

There is good variety to the terrain, as well. The aforementioned countryside, wild moorland, and the vibrant and bustling cities of Newcastle and Carlisle. The way marking is thorough and frequent (plus, the Wall itself is an excellent way marker), making it very difficult to get lost.

You mentioned walking this route anywhere between 4 or 8 days. What’s the recommended number of days?

I think this answer depends on what you’re looking for in your experience, as well as any time constraints you may have. My friend and I did the walk in 5 days, and while this was very do-able, it made some sections challenging. Ideally, I would have liked 6 days for the walk, with this extra day I would have felt more comfortable taking time to linger at the forts, or to examine the wall for inscriptions.

Another factor to consider is the type of accommodation you want for your journey. My friend and I did a combination of hostels, bunkhouses and B&B’s, and this gave us plenty of options in terms of how we wanted to break up our stages. From most of the information I’ve seen, the first and last stages are nearly universal (due to lodging restrictions): Wallsend to Heddon-on-the-Wall at 15 miles, and Carlisle to Bowness at 15 miles. The middle stages are where it’s easier to play around and devise them to your liking, and these are the stages where you’ll be walking alongside sections of the Wall, so they are the most interesting and you might want to do smaller mileage to take in their splendor.

What’s the food situation like?

For most of the walk, finding food to eat (and sometimes very good food!) will not be a problem. All B&B’s and most bunkhouses will provide breakfast (free or for a fee, depending on the type of lodging), and this tends to be very good: from full English breakfasts to fried egg sandwiches. We were able to eat at a pub or restaurant on all but one night, and on that night, our host at Slack House Farm cooked us a hearty and filling dinner. Some days we passed through a village with a pub where we could stop for lunch, on other days we packed items with us and had picnics (one day our guidebook promised not one, but two open spots for lunch, but we arrived to find each location closed). I think it would always be wise to have a backup of food in your pack, but this is not a route where you have to carry 3 days worth of food with you.

What is the weather going to be like? Isn’t the north of England supposed to be very… wet?

When I told people that I was going on a long walk in the very north of England in early spring, they laughed and said, “I hope you have good rain gear.”

Rain is going to be a factor regardless of the time of year that you walk, though in the summer (particularly July) there is a better shot at more sunshine and less water falling from the sky. The typical Hadrian’s Wall season is from Easter until the end of September/beginning of October; any later or earlier than this and you’ll find that many B&B’s and bunkhouses will be closed. Winter is not an advisable time to walk the path, in fact it’s encouraged that you don’t walk during this time, in order to give the path a rest and to prevent damage.

I had great luck on my springtime walk; we had one morning of steady rain, and another full day of heavy gray clouds and a lot of wind, but otherwise cool-to-almost-warm temperatures with plenty of sunshine. Flowers were coming into bloom and baby lambs were being born before our eyes (quite literally, so be prepared for that), and I can imagine that later in April and into May would be an even more stunning time to walk.

Speaking of all this rain, what am I going to need to stay (somewhat) dry?

I’m going to link here to my Camino packing list, which is very similar to what I took on my Hadrian’s Wall trip. It’s easy to go light and carry only what you need: a couple hiking outfits, an evening outfit, a sleeping bag liner (hostels and bunkhouses all had sheets and blankets on the beds), basic toiletries, etc. (See the packing list for more detail). But being that this was the first time I was walking in the spring, I did need to make a few additions to this list.

In addition to my rain jacket (a Marmot PreCip , which I love), I added a pair of rain pants (also Marmot, because I had such good luck with the jacket. They’re not the most flattering, but then again, a long walk isn’t a fashion show). These pants worked perfectly over a base layer for my legs (fancy way of saying long underwear?), keeping me warm and dry. I also brought along a pair of Crocs rather than my usual flip flops, so that I could sport the very classy look of Crocs and socks in the evenings (and then just the Crocs as shower shoes). I also brought a Smartwool top that kept me cozy on the windy days, along with a light and packable insulated jacket and a headband to cover my ears (a hat would work fine too). I didn’t bring gloves, but I think they would have been useful.

The rain jacket and rain pants really worked well on my morning of heavy rain, and I also used my buff to cover my head/hair so water wouldn’t drip down my forehead. Some people bring gaitors, and maybe if we’d encountered more rain they would have come in handy, but I didn’t find a need for them. My hiking shoes (Keen’s Voyageurs, I can’t sing their praises enough!) are water resistant, not waterproof, but I’ve found that they do an amazing job in the rain and tend to keep my socks fairly dry (unless walking for hours in a downpour. Then, nothing will keep the water out).

What tips do you have for me?

*Most guidebooks will orient the walk from east to west, beginning in Wallsend and ending in Bowness. This is the direction my friend and I walked, and generally I just really like the idea of moving east to west. However, you might want to consider the benefits of walking in the other direction, from west to east. First of all, and maybe most importantly, the wind will be at your back, rather than blowing straight into your face. Not only is this less of a nuisance, but it will actually make it much easier to walk, without having to fight against the wind (I’m convinced this is why our 15-mile Day 3 took so long and felt so difficult). Secondly, I think it’s possible that you get a better view of the wall from this direction. Our views were fine, but often I found myself turning around, saying “Wow!!” and snapping a photo. And, finally, you would end the walk just outside of Newcastle, which could make for a very comfortable and celebratory city to spend your last night in.

*Don’t forget to consider the tides when you get to the Solway marshes on the last section (or, possibly, first section) of your walk. This stretch of the walk is at sea level and when the tide is in, the trail can be completely underwater (and, possibly, knee to waist level making it dangerous or impossible to walk). Tide charts can be found here (and guidebooks will direct you to tide charts as well).

*Don’t miss the Robin Hood Tree (unlike me, who was so focused on the walking that I passed by this large tree filmed for the movie ‘Robin Hood’ and just thought, “Oh, that’s a nice tree”). It’s actually rather hard to miss, given that there are lots of tourists around this section of the trail and tons of people taking photos of the tree. Also, take some time to read the plaques and maybe pay a visit to one or two of the forts along the way. Walking in an area with such a rich history makes this long-distance trail different than any other I’ve walked.

*Keep an eye out for Roger, an elderly man on a bicycle when you arrive in Port Carlisle, just a mile outside of Bowness-on-Solway (the end of the walk for most). He mans a large sign and changes out the cities and mileages for everyone he meets. Turns out, Philadelphia is approximately 3500 miles away from Port Carlisle. This is a great place for a celebratory photo, just be sure to leave Roger a coin or two for his services (and if you’re not interested, it’s totally fine to just keep walking right past).

*Respect the Wall. This is an important one: it may be tempting to walk on sections of the wall, or to take a selfie perched on top with arm raised in victory. Don’t do it. The Wall is nearly 2000 years old, and it amazes me that it was so well built that some parts have survived this long. But it is not immune to destruction and the more that humans interfere with it, the most risk it has of crumbling to pieces. (Alas, I was so tired at the end of one walking day that I accidentally walked across part of the wall. There was even a platform so people wouldn’t have to step on it but in my fatigue I passed through the gate and just bypassed the wooden platform altogether. Picture as evidence of my crime).

Helpful Resources

-I used Henry Stedman’s Hadrian’s Wall Path: British Walking Guide for my trek. It orients the walk from east to west (so be prepared for that if you are planning to walk in the other direction), and the hand-drawn style of maps have a lot of detail and are easy to follow. Overall I was pleased with this guide, but be warned, some of the villages you pass through on this walk are really small, and a pub that might have been opened when the guide was written could now be closed (grr, Stag Inn).

-UK National Trail Website: https://www.nationaltrail.co.uk/hadrians-wall-path

-Hill Walk Tours: https://www.hillwalktours.com/hiking-england/hadrians-wall-path-overview

-Where to Stay: This website has a good listing of accommodations, and you can also find a good selection in most guidebooks. For a thorough listing of hostels and bunkhouses in the UK (and, specifically for Hadrian’s Wall), check out the Independent Hostel Guide (one of my photos is used on their site, so this automatically makes me a fan!). As I previously mentioned, I stayed in a variety of accommodations: from a hostel to a bunkhouse to a B&B. I was happy with all of these options, and I’ll include the names of those places in case it could help any of you in your planning:

Newcastle: The Albatross Hostel

Heddon-on-the-Wall: Houghton North Farm

Grindon: Old Repeater Station

Gilsland: Slack House Farm

Carlisle: Howard Lodge Guesthouse

I hope some of this information may be useful to you, and please let me know in the comments or by using the Contact Form (at the top of this blog) if you have additional questions.

Happy Walking!

(Some of these links are affiliate links; this means that if you click through and order one of these items, a small commission will come to me at no extra cost to you. A win-win! And, I’ll never use an affiliate link on something that I haven’t used and loved myself.)

Memorable Walks of 2017

December 24, 2017

I’m at my parents’ house, home for the holidays, and I just got back from a short walk. As I looped around the little park at the top of our neighborhood, I starting thinking about all of the walking I did this year. I don’t track my miles (though I may start that next year!) so I’m not sure how far I’ve gone, but I know that I’ve walked a lot.

And when I think about all of this walking, my first thoughts always jump to the big trips: the plane flights, the journeys abroad, the treks through Europe. These were great, but the smaller walks were pretty fun, too. In the mountains of southern France or on the sidewalks of a leafy suburban town; I’m happy in either place, as long as I’m outside and I’m moving.

So here’s a small roundup of some of my favorite and most memorable walks of 2017: in places near and far, hot and cold, simple and stunning.

1. Women’s March on Washington (January 2017)

At the start of the year a friend and I boarded a bus in the wee morning hours and journeyed down to Washington DC, where we marched alongside thousands of others in the nation’s capitol, the day after the Presidential Inauguration. This was a different sort of walking than the kind I’m used to, but it certainly counts as one of my most memorable walks of the year. We didn’t move fast, and we may not have covered much ground, but we stood up for women’s rights, for our values, for unity and peace, and it was an incredible thing to be part of.

Favorite Moment(s): So many small things to love- chanting along with hundreds of other voices, getting complimented on our sashes, ducking into the National Gallery to see some art, picking out our favorite signs.

2. Hadrian’s Wall, England (April 2017)

In early April, my friend Heather and I walked 84-miles across northern England, following the route of an ancient wall. It was a trip I’d hesitated to take: would we have enough time, was it going to cost too much money? But in the end, as I nearly always am, I was so happy that I’d made the decision to walk. The weather was about as good as we could have hoped for, and while we had a couple of very long days, we were healthy and strong and finished in good spirits. As my walk in Scotland had done the previous year, walking along Hadrian’s Wall made me crave a return to the UK, and to discover more of their wonderful long-distance walking routes.

Favorite Moment(s): I loved the day when the wind blew so fiercely it was hard to move forward; nothing makes you feel more alive than standing on top of a hill with the ruins of an ancient Roman wall at your side, the wind howling and raging so loud that it is the only sound you can hear. I also loved (for its hilarity) the moment when I realized that the rain was, in fact, coming down harder than I imagined, and it forced me to make a wardrobe change (i.e. take my pants off) in the middle of an open field.

3. My tried-and-true Ridley Creek State Park, PA (all year long)

I’ve mentioned this park before, because it’s where I do the bulk of my hiking every year. It’s my nearby state park, with 2,600 acres of woodland and meadows and a great network of hiking and walking trails. When the weather’s decent I try to go at least a couple times a week, more if I’m preparing for an upcoming Camino or long-distance walk. Winter, spring, summer and fall: each season brings a different flavor, a different experience to the park.

Favorite Moment(s): After years of hiking in this park, discovering a small side trail that led to an arboretum, with miles and miles of additional hiking trails. It was a bit like Narnia!

4. Le Chemin du Puy, France (June 2017)

In June I walked for 2 weeks on the Chemin du Puy, a pilgrimage route through France that eventually leads to Santiago de Compostela. I spent the first four days with my cousin Hilary, and then continued the rest of the way on my own.

Favorite Moment(s): One of my favorite moments with my cousin was when we stopped for an epic picnic lunch on Day 2 of our journey. We’d picked up sandwiches earlier in the day, and these things were nothing like the bocadillas you’d find in Spain. Soft and crusty bread, smooth mounds of goats cheese, caramelized onions and a fig spread, all fresh and local ingredients. We’d also procured a bag of potato chips and several peaches and we spread out on a blanket in the grass in the shade after walking 15 kilometers on an early summer’s day. Is there anything better than this?

And my favorite solo moment was walking across the Aubrac plateau, with such a feeling of openness and peace and joy.

5. Hiking to Lastours, France (July 2017)

I’ve been to La Muse three times now (the writer’s and artist’s retreat in the mountains of southern France), and this means that I’ve hiked just about all the nearby trails. But on this past visit I decided to hike down to Lastours, the site of the ruins of three Cathar castles. Each year the retreat takes a “field trip” there, shuttling us down the mountain in a van. Since the castles were only about 8km away, I decided to walk. I left La Muse a couple hours earlier than the others who were going in the van, and we arranged to meet up at a café near the castles. All in all it worked out perfectly, though I had to do a bit of trailblazing to figure out how to actually get up to the castles.

Favorite Moment(s): Tourists and visitors need to first pass through a visitor’s center where they buy an admission ticket to the site. But I hiked to the castles from the opposite side of the mountain, and I arrived just before the site opened, coming in on an overgrown side trail. Up among the ruins I was totally and completely alone, and when I began my descent in order to meet my friends, the tourists who were just arriving seemed startled to see me coming down (so, too, did the workers in the visitor’s center, which I needed to pass through in order to get out of the site and into the village).

6. My last few days of walking in Paris (July 2017)

I could easily say that all of the walking I did in Paris was memorable, because I just love Paris so much. I was there for a week this summer, and by the end of my visit, I felt like I knew where I was going. I’d done tons of walking and exploring in the quartiers (neighborhoods) around where I was staying, and so in those last few days every time I headed out, I knew my way. There is so much beauty to Paris: the grand architecture and boulevards and all of that sparkling light on the Seine, but there’s also the beauty in the quiet corners, the winding cobblestoned streets, the corner cafés. I started to recognize those quiet streets, and as I walked around and around, I felt as though I fit into it all.

Favorite Moment(s): When several people stopped me and asked for directions. It makes me smile every time I think about it!

7. Clingman’s Dome Hike, Great Smoky Mountains National Park, TN (August 2017)

Friends and I stayed near Great Smoky Mountains National Park when we traveled down to North Carolina in August to see the total eclipse. Because we only had a few days, because we were a small group, and because we had some other activities we wanted to do, we didn’t actually get to do much hiking (a bit of a disappointment for me, but the main purpose of this trip was for the eclipse, so I’ll just have to get down to the Great Smoky Mountains again for some real hiking). But we did manage to fit in a quick (and steep!) hike up to Clingman’s Dome, the highest point in the park and the state of Tennessee. The weather was perfectly clear and the view was stunning in every direction.

Favorite Moment(s): Good conversation with a friend as we hiked to the top, and being able to see so far into the distance on a really beautiful summer’s day.

8. Overlook Tower Hike, Catskills Mountain, New York (October 2017)

Another steep hike to another lookout point in another mountain range (though this one much smaller), in the Catskills of New York. But this hike was very different: I was on a solo trip, and the weather did not cooperate. I knew, when I started hiking, that I wouldn’t get much of a view at the top, and the weather only turned worse the longer I climbed. I moved into the clouds and the mist and the fog, the air grew colder, and there were a few points when I wondered if I should just turn around. The 2 1/2 miles to the top was a long and steady climb, and it was late in the day and not many people were out. Just when I wondered how much further I’d have to walk, the outline of a large and looming building began to emerge from the fog. It was the ruins of an old hotel, eerie and spooky in the fog and the mist. I explored there for awhile, then continued just a bit further to the fire tower at the end of the hike. I started to climb up the tower but about halfway up I totally chickened out: once I started climbing I couldn’t even see all the way up to the top because the fog was so thick. The wind was blowing and shaking the structure and the steps were slippery. I’m not really scared of heights, but I was terrified that this old fire tower might get blown straight off the mountain, with me clinging to its side. So I missed the sweeping views and the achievement of climbing to the top of the tower, but all the more reason to return one day.

Favorite Moment(s): Those hotel ruins!

9. Walks around my neighborhood (all year long)

I’m going to end with the walks that I do most days of the year: the paths that lead straight out my backdoor. I live in a beautiful suburban neighborhood with tall trees and friendly people and lots of deer. If I take a left at the end of my driveway I can veer off onto a wooded trail that winds along a small creek and is tucked away behind all of the houses. I can’t go very far without needing to cross some busy roads, so I’ve just made a big loop out of the streets and the trails and cover the same ground pretty much every day. The walking may be repetitive, but there is so much beauty to see as long as I pay close attention.

Favorite Moment(s): Snow, fox, deer, flowers.

Here’s hoping that 2018 brings lots of new and exciting walks!

Holiday gift-guide for the pilgrim/traveler/walker in your life

December 14, 2017

Does anyone else save their holiday shopping until the last minute? I always think that I have all the time in the world, or certainly enough time to have gifts bought and delivered in time for Christmas. But inevitably, every year, I cut it awfully close.

And this year is no exception- it’s December 14th, and I’m just now starting to think that I should probably go out and buy a few gifts for the people in my life. That, and also give my family a few suggestions from my own wish list.

It was when I began to put together a little list of my own that I started to see a trend: guidebooks and good socks and travel notebooks. In other words, some of my favorite things to take on my trips and my walks.

So this is a little collection of gift suggestions, for the traveler/pilgrim/walker/hiker in your life. And, of course, don’t forget yourself; sometimes the holidays are a nice time to treat ourselves to the things we’ve been wishing for all year long.

(As I briefly referred to in my last post, some of these links will be affiliate links; this means that if you click through and order one of these items, a small commission will come to me at no extra cost to you. A win-win! And, I’ll never use an affiliate link on something that I haven’t used and loved myself.)

Stocking Stuffers $15 and under

Dr. Bronner’s Soap: While this could give some people the wrong message, I think a good bar of soap is always a fun and appreciated little nugget to find in your stocking. There’s a lot I like about Dr. Bronner’s- it’s a family business that focuses on organic and environmentally responsible products, and I’ve used their Castile bar soaps on every Camino and long-distance trek (my favorite is peppermint). On my walks I use the soap to wash my body and my clothing and it works great, and smells even better.
Buff: Ah, the strange piece of tube-shaped fabric that has countless purposes. It took me a couple Caminos to warm up to my buff, but now it’s an indispensable part of my pack. Some popular uses: head band for windy days, head band on hot days (soaked in cold water first), wrist band for strange patches of sunburn (shout-out to my cousin!!), neck wrap to avoid sunburn, napkin, worn over the mouth in dusty areas, etc. The list is really endless.

Moleskine Journal: I use Moleskine notebooks in my job, and I also use them in my travels. The link will take you to the particular type I use on my walks: they are thin and lightweight but high quality and perfect for capturing details and memories.
ExOfficio Underwear: You might not give this to a friend (unless it’s a really close friend!), but with family anything goes. This is great underwear for traveling: light, comfortable, dries extremely quickly.
Nalgene Water Bottle: I’ve had my Nalgene for years and years (I have several, but my 16oz bottle comes with me on the Camino, along with a backup supply of water in my pack). The bottle has taken quite a beating, but it’s been indestructible.
ChicoBag Daybag: I’ve taken one of these on every summer trip for the past 4 years: they barely weigh a thing, are perfect for using in the evenings when I’m not carrying my large pack around, and they also work well as a shower bag (they are water resistant and can hold an incredibly large amount of stuff).

Gifts $15-$50

Camino Frances Guidebook: Now’s the time when pilgrims are planning their 2018 treks on the Camino de Santiago, and many will start with the Camino Frances. Love it or hate it, John Brierley’s guide is the most popular of them all (personally, I really liked it).

Or if you’ve already walked the Frances, get the Norte guidebook!

Darn Tough socks: They keep my feet warm in the winter, cool in the summer. They are durable and the pairs I’ve had for several years and worn day after day on my long-distance treks have held up really well.
Eagle Creek Packing Cubes: These were a game-changer on my second Camino. They helped me organize my clothing, protected it from the rest of my (dirty) pack, maximized space, and were ultra-lightweight. I’ll probably never travel without them again.
Havaianas Flip Flops: Hiking shoes or boots aren’t the only footwear you’ll need for a long-distance trek… you’re going to need something to change into in the evenings. For a summer walk, I love a pair of Havaianas. Soft, durable, designed and made in Brazil.

Camino break!

Gifts $50-$100

Marmot Rain Jacket: Bought it for my first Camino, used it ever since. Lightweight and protects pretty well from the rain. A must for any long-distance walking trip.
JetBoil Cooking System: I suppose you’d only take this on a pilgrimage if you were planning to camp (which some pilgrims do!). But if you are planning on any camping or backpacking trips in 2018 and don’t have a way to heat up water to cook food, then I highly, highly, highly recommend this system. Compact, lightweight, beyond easy to use, heats water to boiling in 2 minutes. I’ve only really been on one solo-camping trip, but this thing worked like a charm.

I use my Jetboil to make coffee… what else??

These are just a few ideas; if you want to read more about the things I brought on my Camino you can take a look at my packing list, as well as this post, which goes into more detail about the items I used and loved on my treks.

Happy holidays to everyone, and I’ll be back with more soon.

First Snow and Life These Days

December 12, 2017

Hello my friends! It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? At least a month since I’ve posted something here, and since so many of my recent posts have been about my summer journey on the Chemin du Puy, it feels like ages since we’ve actually caught up.

So here I am, with a little post to say hi. What have all of you been up to since I last checked in? I hope there’s been a lot of walking and maybe some traveling and adventures. Some of you have been out on a Camino, some of you are doing your best to discover new local walks. And some of you are continuing to just get outside everyday, walking the same old roads. I like all of these options.

My corner of the east coast had its first snow of the season on Saturday, and I have to say, I wasn’t quite prepared. Mild weather has stretched long into the fall this year, and so even though we’re well into December, I’m not quite ready for winter. But on Saturday, it was unmistakable: winter is here.

I always slow down at this time of the year, and I’m sure that this year will be no different. Already I think I’ve gotten back into a good writing routine, and I’ve returned to my big project, ‘The Book’. This is my memoir about my Camino Frances, interspersed with some other life tidbits (though this ‘interspersing’ is proving to be a difficult task). I’d written the bulk of a very rough draft nearly two years ago, and in the meantime have worked in fits and starts, getting little accomplished before becoming completely overwhelmed and confused about what I was trying to write.

Writing this book has felt, at times, so overwhelming and I’ve felt so far from having anything good, that it’s been easy to just walk away. I always intend to come back, but beginning the process again is difficult and I never get very far. But about a month ago I had this feeling that was hard to ignore- a bit of a tug, a persistent nudge, something echoing and bouncing around my mind: the book. The book. The book.

So I’ve come back to it and it’s been slow going but man, it feels good to be in it again. So that’s probably where you’ll find me this winter- sitting at my kitchen table, maybe with a glass of red wine and some mellow music playing on Spotify, muscling through the language and structure of my story. It’s where I always try to be in this season, sometimes more successfully than not. This year, I hope for great consistency and steady forward progress. Wish me luck!

And, beyond the writing, I’ve been continuing to walk. There have been a few new places: hikes in the Catskill Mountains of New York, a towpath along the Susquehanna River in Maryland, a new walking path a few miles away from where I live. But otherwise I’m in my familiar park, looping through my neighborhood, sometimes pacing back and forth in my apartment when my legs are feeling itchy (ahh, these cold and short winter days!).

On the horizon, well, there’s just more of the same. In an effort to save money for a desperately-needed new(ish) car, it’s doubtful that I’ll be taking off for any long-distance walking adventures in the springtime (but my memories of the Hadrian’s Wall trip last spring are such happy ones, and I’ve already done a good deal of research on hikes in Ireland for the springtime. For now this is just wishful thinking, and Ireland in the spring will probably have to wait at least another year).

But even as I’m staying put for the immediate future, there’s always the summer to dream about. Ahh, these have been such fun dreams. It’s all but certain that I’ll be returning for a 4th (!!) trip to La Muse, my writer’s retreat in a small French mountain village. If I hadn’t made such good connections in these past two years I don’t know if I would have returned again so soon, but more and more I realize that I’ve been craving community. And I’ve had this incredible fortune of finding an artistic community of people I adore, and we have this really special and beautiful place we can return to and reunite in. Several of my friends are returning this summer, and I can’t resist the pull to return with them. And even though I seem to do more hiking and sitting-on-the-terrace-talking-and-wine-drinking than I do writing on these retreats, I think it is good that I’m giving myself the space and time to work on my projects. If I can continue to move forward with my book in these next months, then I just might be able to have a workable draft ready to send out by the end of the summer. Maybe.

A friend from the retreat has suggested a quick trip to the Italian Dolomites after our stay at La Muse, full of hiking and good food, and this is very, very appealing. (Do any of you know anything about the Dolomites? This would be a new area for me and I’m curious to hear of your experiences!).

And then, of course, I want to do some long-distance walking. Maybe some part of a Camino, maybe a trek through England (there are several I have my eye on). There’s still a lot to be figured out, but this is the fun part, when everything is a possibility, and I can research and look through photos and try to figure out what I most want to do. I’m lucky, very lucky, to be in this position.

Other updates:

-I’m still loving my Nadine Walks Instagram account. I try to post a photo every day, all of my favorites from my past-treks and Camino’s. Right now I’m still posting about my walk on the Camino del Norte, from 2015 & 2016. If you have Instagram and haven’t followed this account, please come over!

-The e-book I published two months ago, ‘After the Camino’, is still around. It was such a fun experience to put together a book and share it with people, and I hope that more travelers and pilgrims will continue to find it.

-Have you heard about #walk1000miles? It’s a free challenge that was created by Country Walking, a top-selling magazine in the UK. I think it’s been around for at least a few years, and it encourages walkers to sign up and join a larger community of people who are all trying to walk 1,000 miles in a year. It’s easy to join and is all honesty-based, so all you have to do is track your miles. There’s a very interactive and supportive Facebook group and check-ins throughout the year, which all helps with motivation and encouragement. Even though I’m not in the UK, I signed up and thought it would be a lot of fun to track my miles for 2018. I know a lot of you reading this could be interested in the challenge, so here’s the link… we can do this together!

-Finally, I decided to try to use some affiliate links on this blog. I’m not sure that it’s really something that will be worthwhile for me and for what I do here, but occasionally I talk about the gear that I use on my walks and I love to recommend stuff that has worked for me (like, for instance, my Keen shoes. I will probably never stop talking about how much I love them). So if I use an affiliate link (like I did above with the Keens), and if you click through and end up purchasing that product (or, since this is the Amazon affiliate program, any product you purchase after following my link), a very small percentage of the cost will come to me (and at absolutely no cost to you!). If I make $10.00 I think I will be lucky, and I promise you that I will use that money to buy a coffee and sit somewhere nice and work on a blog post. Any more than $10.00 and I will use it to support this site and my walks. Look for a holiday pilgrim/walker gift guide coming soon! And then I’ll probably forget that I ever signed up for this affiliate thing.

Thanks for staying with me and continuing to read, and if you have a minute, leave a comment and let me know what you’ve been up to in the past few months. Happy holidays, happy winter, and all my best. I’ll be back soon.

Ending in a Blaze of Glory; Day 14 on the Chemin du Puy, Cajarc to Cahors (undetermined number of kilometers)

October 29, 2017

My last day on the Chemin du Puy had a bit of everything: Beautiful trails. Transportation snafus. Kind and helpful people. A couple of tears shed on the side of the road. Ice cream, to make up for those tears. A big dose of adventure.

It was my 14th day of walking. I was ending my Chemin in Cahors, which is roughly 250km from where I started in Le Puy en Velay.

I needed to end in Cahors because I had a reserved train ticket, one that would take me to my writer’s retreat a little further down in the south of France. So I’d needed to make it to Cahors by a specific date, but because of a decision to arrive in Conques when the rest of my friends did (still one of the best decisions of my Chemin), I knew I wouldn’t be able to walk all the way to Cahors.

This meant that I needed to come up with a Plan B. The day before, when I’d arrived in Cajarc, my very first stop was the tourism office. I propped my walking stick against the wall, leaned over the counter, and explained to the women working there that I needed to arrive in Cahors the next day, and wondered if there were any alternate routes that I might be able to take.

Maps were pulled out, discussions had, and finally we came up with a plan: I would take a bus to Saint-Cirq-Lapopie (voted the most beautiful village in France, although I’m pretty sure that this was at least the 3rd village that seemed to have this distinction), from Saint-Cirq I would walk on an alternate route, the GR36, to Cahors. The woman pointed her finger along a wavy line on the map. “See,” she said, “It is only 22km. Easy.”

This seemed like a fabulous solution, and I was full of confidence and a renewed sense of adventure when I woke up in the morning. It was early and while everyone else slept, I quietly gathered my things, loaded them into my pack, and headed out into a still dark morning. I was catching an early bus, the 6:30 which would get me to Saint-Cirq before 7am. Once there, I reasoned that I could have a coffee and a little breakfast, and then enjoy my last day of walking.

Oh, the best laid plans.

First of all, the bus schedule had been changed the day before. The tourism office didn’t know this or have the most updated version of the bus schedule, so I missed the bus I’d intended to catch by only a couple minutes, and had to wait nearly 30 minutes for the next one.

Then, when I got on the bus, the driver spoke quickly and sternly, first making me stow my pack in the luggage compartments under the bus (which I thought was a bit unnecessary, given that my pack is on the small side, but who knows, maybe he wanted to keep his bus clean). Then, he rattled off something in French and I couldn’t understand what he was trying to tell me. Something about Saint-Cirq and when I should exit the bus.

Eventually I realized (only when he waved at me to get off the bus) that this bus for some reason didn’t actually go all the way to Saint-Cirq, and so I’d had to get off at a stop about a 4km walk away from the village.

No problem, I thought to myself. I’m a pilgrim after all, and I can certainly walk.

When I did arrive in Saint-Cirq, it was after 8am and while the village was beautiful, it was also a gray day and the place was deserted. Maybe it was too early, but I still can’t figure out why there were no people. I circled through the village, walking up and down, exploring the church and some ruins and snapping photos and I only saw one woman, who was outside watering the flowers in front of her house. This was a very touristy place but nothing was open, and finally I went inside a nice looking auberge (guest house) and asked if I would be able to get a cup of coffee.

If you’re new to this blog, let me briefly tell you how important coffee is to my walks. Coffee is… necessary. Usually getting my first cup isn’t too much of a problem on the Camino, though there have been a few mornings in the past that I’d had to wait several hours for that initial coffee. But the Chemin du Puy excels at the coffee conundrum; because nearly ever gîte offers breakfast, I always had a hot cup of coffee (or two, or three) before I started walking.

So coffee was never a problem on the Chemin until that very last morning. I’d stayed in the municipal gîte in Cajarc and no breakfast was offered. So after waiting 30 minutes for a bus, then walking an unexpected 4km to Saint-Cirq, I was not amused to see that there were no cafés open.

But luckily, the woman at the auberge must have seen the desperation in my eyes, because she told me that if I could wait a few minutes, she’d bring out some coffee.

A white ceramic pitcher of hot milk and a mug full of espresso, along with a half of sleeve of cookies pulled from my pack (no other breakfast available), and I was finally ready to get going.

The first couple of kilometers of the walk were great. I was walking on a canal towpath next to the River Lot that was carved directly into a cliff-face. It made a sort of half tunnel that snaked along the river and the walk was pleasant and quiet and the scenery dramatic.

I arrived in the next village, Bouziès, found a public bathroom in a park and then saw a sign for the GR36 route that I’d be following.

Cahors, it read. 34.2km.

Wait one minute. 34.2km? How could that be right? I pulled out the map that I’d gotten in the tourism office and studied it a little more closely. Somehow we’d made a mistake, or we’d added the wrong numbers or we’d followed a line for a road rather than a hiking trail. In any case, Saint-Cirq to Cahors was not a mere 22km.

I added the numbers in my head. I’d already walked 4km to get to Saint-Cirq, and then another 4km to Bouziès. If I could actually walk all the way to Cahors, it would make for a 42km day.

Now, readers of this blog know that I’ve done 40+km days before. I’ve done several, so I know it’s not out of my comfort zone. But the day that was unfurling before me was a bit out of my comfort zone. It was already 9:30 and I still had 34km to go. This wasn’t ideal, but it was a distance that still seemed do-able. No, the biggest problem was that I had no idea what the route was going to be like. I didn’t know if it would be flat, or hilly, or steep or rocky or if it would ascend or if it would descend. I had no idea.

I passed slowly through the town, mulling over what I wanted to do. I saw an open boulangerie and bought half of a baguette and a croissant and then I kept walking. And I started walking fast.

I decided that I would going to try to do it. I walked as fast as I could and then I started climbing a hill, and after awhile it felt like a small mountain. I huffed and puffed and finally made it to the top and then I began the descent and sometimes I was walking on small rocks and I had to be careful. I wasn’t moving as fast as I wanted. I felt more tired that I wanted to feel.

I walked and walked and I ascended a second very large hill and my legs and calves screamed at me and I walked slower, daring to only rest for 10 minutes at the top to eat some cheese and bread and dried apricots.

Eventually, I stopped walking and consulted the bus schedule I’d gotten the day before. Something in me knew that I didn’t want to walk all the way to Cahors. I wasn’t making good time, I felt stressed about not knowing what was ahead of me on the route. I hadn’t passed another pilgrim, I didn’t even know if I could make it to Cahors before dark. I suspected I could, but I just didn’t know, and that made me feel very unsettled.

So, finally, I decided to just take a bus. I looked at the bus schedule, I looked at my map, and I walked onto another GR route to get to the town of Vers, where I had about 90 minutes to wait for the 2:37 bus that would take me to Cahors.

I arrived in Vers, I confirmed the bus stop with some people in a hotel restaurant, and then I made my way to a bench outside of the church where I would wait for my bus. I took off my socks and shoes and filled my water bottle at a nearby fountain and I thought to myself, “This is the end of this year’s Camino. Not what I expected, but overall, not a bad walk.”

This would have been a decent ending, if only I had gotten on that bus.

The hour for my bus came and went, and every time I heard a vehicle I’d anxiously look and wait and hope it would be my bus but it never was. Five minutes passed. 10 minutes passed. Finally a bus turned onto my road and it was moving fast as it approached but I waved it down and the brakes screeched to a stop. I went over and the door opened and a woman looked down at me curiously. “Is this the bus to Cahors?” I asked.

“No, no,” she said. “That bus stops at the other side of the bridge. Down there.” She pointed.

My heart dropped and I thanked her and then without thinking I took off down the street, running to the bridge, fearful that I’d already missed my bus.

I stood at the side of a busy road and waited and I could feel in my gut that something was wrong. I didn’t know exactly where to stand. It was already 15 minutes past when the bus was supposed to arrive.

And then, coming down the road, having just passed the church where I’d been waiting for the past 90 minutes, came a bus. It was moving fast and turning onto the road where I was standing and I realized that the spot by the church had been right all along, the bus had just been late.

I waved my arms, I’d started waving as soon as I realized that this was my bus and the driver was looking straight at me. I waved wildly, I started jumping up and down but the bus turned and roared down the road and headed off to Cahors, leaving me in its dust.

The next bus wasn’t for another 4 hours, not until after 7pm.

I tried to hold it all in but I couldn’t help myself. Tears gathered in my eyes and a couple rolled down my cheeks and I was hot and tired and I felt like I was somewhere far off of the Chemin, in a small and empty village and the only way out- other than my own two feet- had just rolled out and left me behind.

I didn’t know what to do and in that moment, I just wanted to be done with the Chemin. I wished I were at La Muse, in my cozy room at the writer’s retreat, not having to worry about speaking French or going off route or having to eat broken cookies for breakfast or waving wildly at buses or any of it. I was done.

I brushed the tears off of my cheeks and tried to hold back the lump in my throat. Sometimes a Camino ends in a blaze of glory, arms lifted in victory… and sometimes it ends on the side of a road in a sleepy village that’s not even on the actual route, the tail lights of your ride out of town fading from sight as they leave you behind.

But, you know, sometimes that’s the just the way. I went back to the hotel’s restaurant and asked the staff if they could help me call a taxi. At first everyone was confused about what I was doing. They told me that they didn’t know if a taxi would drive out here. That the taxi would have to come from Cahors, that it would be expensive. They doubled checked the bus schedule, and it was confirmed that there wouldn’t be another one until that evening.

The manager asked all of her staff if anyone was going back to Cahors that afternoon. “It’s too bad,” she told me. “Someone just left for Cahors, but you missed him.” The staff ran around the hotel, seeing if they could find me a ride, but they came up empty. (Still, this was such a bright spot in the day, how willing they were to find a solution for me).

In the end, the manager called a taxi for me, and within 20 minutes I was picked up and whisked away to Cahors. The ride was at least 30 euros more than the bus would have been, but I suspect that the driver didn’t charge me as much as she could have. We chatted in French, I think I was so relieved to be in a moving vehicle that I didn’t worry about what I was saying or whether what I said made any sense.

And then, when I arrived in Cahors, I had a pretty special Chemin evening. My gîte, Le Papillon Vert (green butterfly), was a quirky place in a slim apartment building that spanned at least four floors. The first floor was a large entryway cluttered with bags and shoes and socks and a table covered in papers and books and half empty glasses of flavored water that Eden (our hospitalero) provided for pilgrims. Eden was a former pilgrim himself: in either his 30’s or early 40’s, with long dark hair and small glasses and a quiet and gentle manner. There was another group of women who’d just arrived to the gîte and we all spoke together and Eden told us where we’d sleep and when dinner would be served. As he stamped my credential and took my money for the night, he asked where I was from.

“Des Etats-Unis,” I said.

“Non,” he replied, shaking his head.

I wasn’t sure what to say to this, but he went on to tell me that he couldn’t believe I was an American. He complimented my French and my accent and thought that I must be European. It was a great compliment to me, that after two weeks of muscling my way through French conversation that I might have improved. In fact, I knew that my French was better than when I’d started. I could understand conversations more easily, and I wasn’t quite as timid when speaking. Eden even asked me to translate a bit throughout the night for a German pilgrim, a woman in her 20’s who I was sharing a room with.

It was a good evening. It was the kind of evening that redeems a pretty challenging day. Before dinner I wandered through the city; the sky had cleared to a perfect shade of blue, there were bustling markets and narrow roads and quiet corners.

And then dinner was one of the best meals of the trip: a salad with chunks of blood-red tomato and cucumber and thick slices of brie, a vegetable puréed soup, two different homemade tartes, boiled potatoes, a local wine, bread, and surely something wonderful for dessert that I’ve since forgotten.

And the conversation was good. There were 8 women at the table: a group of 4, a group of 2, the German girl, and me. The other women were French but they were friendly and jolly and make an effort to try to translate or speak slowly and there was so much laughter and happiness. As we were finishing our last bites of food and lingering over wine, Eden told us a few of his favorite pilgrim “lessons”, stories like parables, examples of Chemin magic, of long-lost friends and finding what you need.

Finding what you need, yes. I’d found what I needed in that gîte: community and laughter and the spirit of the Chemin. My pilgrimage hadn’t ended on the side of a dusty road with tears in my eyes. After all of these years, how could I have thought that my Chemin ended when the walking did? No, a Camino or a Chemin is about more than the walking, it’s always been about more than the walking.

It’s the journey, the villages I pass through and the cities I explore, the people by my side, the voices joining together in laughter, in song. This was the blaze of glory. This was what it was all about, all of it together, all of these pieces. It’s the walking, but more than that, it’s the spirit of everyone who is walking and everyone who has walked for hundreds and hundreds of years.

Will I walk again? Surely. There are so many paths to discover, there are more routes to Santiago, there may even be some footsteps to retrace. I will certainly walk again, and the only question that remains is- ‘where to next?’.

*****

Previous Post: Days 11, 12, 13 on the Chemin du Puy

Have you walked a Camino/Chemin, returned home and wondered ‘what comes next?’ If so, check out my e-book, ‘After the Camino’!

Revealing my latest Project: ‘After the Camino’ e-book!

October 18, 2017

Hi everyone, I’ve written an E-book! It’s called ‘After the Camino’!

Here it is, for your viewing/reading pleasure (click this link, or any of the links in this post). I’ve been calling it a ‘small’ and ‘simple’ thing, though when all was said and done it clocked in at a little over 50 pages. Some of those pages are photos and there’s much less text per page than what I’m used to, so 50 pages feels much bigger than it actually is.

Despite this, ‘After the Camino’ is a book, and I’d love for you to take a look. The chapters read like blog posts, so in a way it feels a bit like a collection of blog posts, with a focus on tips for dealing with the ‘post Camino blues’. Its ideal audience is anyone who has walked a Camino and has returned home and felt a bit lost, or felt like they weren’t sure what to do next.

But in some ways, I think it can be for anyone who has had a big experience and is transitioning back to regular life, and feeling like something is now missing. Most of the content is framed around a Camino experience, but the concepts can be applied to nearly anything. In any case, the book is free, so I think you should all take a look, pilgrim or not! (And if you’re in the planning stages of a pilgrimage, then bookmark this page and come back when you’ve returned from your Camino. This book might help).

Writing this and putting it together was a good experience for me. It never felt overwhelming, and maybe that’s because I worked in stages, and with small steps (like I usually do). I wrote most of it back in the spring, added a few chapters this summer, and have spent the last couple of months tinkering away at putting it together in an e-book format. There was a lot to learn there, and still more to go, I’m sure.

I could have toyed with this for another two months but have you ever heard the expression ‘begin before you’re ready?’. Hmm, well, I’m not sure that this was the expression I was looking for… but in any case the idea was that I may have never felt ready to hit publish and send it out into the great unknown. I needed to finally say to myself ‘good enough’ and then just take the next step.

Here are a couple technical details: if you want to download the book, you’re going to have to submit your email to essentially ‘subscribe’ to the book. There are a couple emails involved here; you’ll have to enter your email and name, then confirm, wait a few minutes (this is key… just wait for it, the email will eventually arrive), and THEN you’ll get the email with the link to the book.

I wish this process could be smoother and less complicated, but it’s what I’ve got for now. Doing it in this way is important to me because it gives me a sense of how many of you are interested in taking a look at the book. As I’ve mentioned before, I have other ideas for projects around this ‘After the Camino’ idea, and am thinking about developing an e-course. But in order to invest a lot of time into that, I want to have a sense of the level of interest.

So, happy reading, and the next time you’ll hear from me here will hopefully be soon, with my final blog post from the Chemin du Puy.

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