Nadine Walks

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Is it just me or is this ‘easy’ section actually quite difficult? Day 1 on the Chemin Le Puy, Le Puy en Velay to Combriaux, 25.5km

I wrote about half of this four days ago, and am just now getting around to finishing and publishing. So these posts are going to be delayed and maybe not quite in real time, but I still hope to write as much as I can!

It’s nearly 10:00pm and I’m just now attempting a blog post; I don’t think much is going to get written tonight. Hilary (that’s my cousin, who’s walking the first 3 days of the Chemin Le Puy with me) and I didn’t do a super long day- just 25km- but it was the first day and it was oh so hot and maybe there was still some jet lag and last night I couldn’t sleep so all of this adds up to a lot of fatigue. 

I meant to get a blog post written this afternoon but, as you can probably guess, that didn’t even come close to happening. Because what happened instead was the Camino. 

Can we even call it a Camino? We’re in France, so the ‘way’ is ‘Le Chemin’ and not ‘Le Camino’ but to me, I can’t call this anything other than a Camino. (So I wrote that a few days ago and already I’m getting used to saying ‘Le Chemin’- how quickly we adapt!).

So this is the recap, for anyone who may not have caught up with my previous post: I’m in France (got here on Sunday morning), and I started walking the Chemin Le Puy today (Tuesday). Hilary is with me until Friday morning and then I’ll continue on for another week and a half. 

There’s a lot I could talk about from the past few days, just the whole process of getting down to Le Puy en Velay and being back in France, in Europe. It feels really great to be here, almost like I never left (which is maybe what starts to happen when you travel to the same places a lot?). We spent a night in Paris, staying in my favorite hostel, the MIJE. I was showing Hilary around all my favorites spots and I had to really smile at how I knew my way around the streets: this is where I buy groceries, this is a good cafe, that’s the best boulangerie. I can only do this in one small corner of Paris but to be able to do it at all? It felt pretty special. 


There were some initial bumps, the small bits of culture shock that still happen. How do I set up a SIM card? Why is my phone ringing? How do I answer in French? Why does my pack feel so heavy? (this is a question that gets asked every single year). 

But after settling in a bit, strolling though Paris and eating ice cream in the shade along the Seine, and getting good and solid sleep, I felt more ready to tackle this French adventure. 

We took a train, then another train, then a bus and finally arrived in Le Puy en Velay. I figured out what to do with my extra luggage, I confirmed a shuttle reservation for Hilary. We walked through the town, up the winding, cobblestones streets, and into the cathedral where we bought our credentials. The cathedral is amazing, it sits at nearly the top of the town and you have to walk up dozens and dozens of stairs in order to enter through the arched portal. But it’s really when you turn back and look out onto the town you’ve walked up from that you can feel how majestic the position really is. You almost feel on top of the world. 


We ate a communal dinner with other pilgrims (nearly all conversation was in French, something I’m going to have to get used to), then headed back to the cathedral to watch a light show. This meant we were up well past a pilgrim bedtime, not getting into bed until nearly midnight. 


But despite the lack of sleep, today was a solid first day. Full. Tough. Hot. Beautiful. At times hilarious. We attended a 7am mass in the cathedral which was followed by a benediction for all the pilgrims starting that day and wow, it was quite a group. It was a special way to start a pilgrimage: we were all given a small medallion and a prayer, rosary beads if we wanted them, and many well wishes and ‘Bon Chemins’. 

At first I struggled to remember what it was like to be on a pilgrimage. Hilary and I made our way down the steep street and at the bottom, paused. What, exactly, were we looking for? Oh yeah, didn’t we see a scallop shell on the pavement the day before? So we were off, following the shells, heading west, heading straight up a hill. We were breathing heavily in no time and my pack felt heavy but this is how a Camino begins. This is how it always begins.

9am and suddenly it was very, very hot. And only going to get hotter: we started our Camino in a heat wave. But despite the heat it was a really beautiful first day, and quickly signs of the Camino returned: winding dirt roads. Small chapels. Pilgrim rest stops on the side of the trail. 



Most people end the first day in Saint-Privat but I’d chosen a gîte in Combriaux, a hamlet just another kilometer or two further along the trail. We made the wise decision to stop in Saint-Privat for an ice cream, and then continued on for a short section that our guidebook promised would be easy, and yet was deceptively difficult (but maybe that’s just ‘end of the first day on the Camino’ type stuff? Who knows, but a hill at the end of any day is never very welcome). 

The gîte experience is a new one for me: gîtes are like albergues but are generally privately run, with smaller, shared rooms that hold 4-6 people (or so). Some gîtes are private homes, with a section of the house open to pilgrims. Nearly all gîtes offer a demi-pension, which provides a bed for the night, a communal dinner, and the typical breakfast of coffee, bread and jam before you leave for the day (I’m finding costs for demi-pensions to be between 30-35 euros; more expensive than Spain but overall a great bargain).

Our first gîte was quite an experience. We stayed in the home of a Welsh man and his wife (and daughter too, possibly?). Elfed offered us a drink then showed us upstairs to our room, which was basically up in an attic (all the rooms were up here, partitioned off with plywood and curtains). There were three beds in our room but Hilary and I had it to ourselves, in the space next to us was Mario (who, despite his name, was French), and at the end of the space were Marc and Veronique. 

Just as we finished taking showers and washing our clothing a storm rolled through (this would be a theme of the first few days of the trip), so we were all ushered inside. Elfed kept the wine flowing and later served us a feast: vegetable soup, tomatoes and cheese and capers and olives (it sounds simple but oh, those French ingredients!), lentils de Le Puy (a regional classic) with pork, bread pudding and ice cream for dessert. There was bread, too (mais oui!). 

Mario spoke perfect English, and jumped back and forth between conversations with Hilary and I, and then with Marc and Veronique, and would translate and somehow kept the conversation going steadily. Just as dessert began there was an incident with a cat and a dead bird, but otherwise the meal was pretty perfect. It was a good first day on the Chemin.

Coming up next: the heat wave continues, we climb and climb and climb, we eat the best sandwiches ever.

The Next Summer Adventure: France! Walking and Writing and Drinking Coffee

I sat down to write a blog post but then realized that I wasn’t sure, exactly, what I wanted to write about.

I’ve finished recapping my Hadrian’s Wall walk, I don’t believe I have much to say about training or packing or preparing for a Camino that I haven’t already said before (well, that’s probably not quite true, but now doesn’t feel like the best time to come up with a new or original post on that topic).

There are still things to be said about my past Camino treks, and general thoughts about these pilgrimages and traveling solo and why I keep walking, but those, too, will have to wait.

And there’s still a lot left to be done with this ‘new’ blog format; kinks to work out, images to resize, figuring out how to add a ‘previous post’ and ‘next post’ button or link at the end of my posts (that’s a big one, and I’ve spent several frustrating hours accomplishing absolutely nothing on that end).

There are my projects, too! My book, which has sort of stalled out but is by no means forgotten or given-up-on. It’s more like… it’s in waiting. I think I needed a little break from the writing, in order to figure out what kind of story I want to be telling. Also, it’s just so hard to write a book and tell a big story and there’s been a lot of stumbling around in the dark over here. So I’m working towards more clarity with it all.

Tree and building in Ridley Creek State Park

Hike in Ridley Creek State Park (all images in this post are from walks/hikes/excursions that I’ve been on in the last month or so)

But other projects are (sort of) in the works, too. An e-book, much of which was written this spring. It’s not actually all that much but I liked creating the content: it’s all about ways to deal with the struggles of the sometimes unsettling post-Camino period. It’s about missing the Camino, and how we can hold onto our memories. It’s about how to begin to take a close look at a life that was most likely shaken up and rearranged out on the Camino, and what to do next. Unless I do a lot more with it this summer, it’s going to be a quick read with short chapters and simple tips. But it’s part of a larger idea that’s been percolating up there in my head for months now… and it’s too soon to talk much about it, but I want to deliver something more about this post-Camino time. There are so many resources and conversations about how to prepare for a Camino, but what happens when the Camino ends? Where are these conversations?

All of this is good and exciting: the blog, the book, the e-book and future projects and ideas… but there’s something else on the horizon, something more immediately on the horizon.

And that’s another walk.

Lancaster County walking trail

Lancaster County

It came up quickly, didn’t it? Wasn’t I just walking in England? (I was certainly just writing about it, but even the actual walk doesn’t feel like all too long ago). But in exactly two weeks (and by the grace of God), I’ll be finished walking my first day on the Camino Le Puy.

This means that I leave for my big summer trip in a little less than two weeks, and oh man, how did this happen? A month ago I thought I was in pretty good shape, but inevitably, it happens: time slips away and it’s the end of my school year and I go to Phillies games and take weekend trips and suddenly my summer trip looms, large, before me. Am I ready? I ask this every single time. Have I been walking and hiking enough? (I’m so afraid that the answer, this year, is ‘no’. Maybe my Hadrian’s Wall walk could be considered good training but that was two months ago and other than the 4-mile walks around my neighborhood that I do pretty consistently, I’ve only had a couple good, long training hikes).

Delaware and Raritan Canal Towpath

Delaware & Raritan Canal Towpath

And as always, there’s the mental/emotional/personal part of these travels. I’m returning for yet another Camino, my fourth in as many years. This will only be a partial Camino, two weeks on a route in France, but it’s still a Camino. I’ll be sharing the very beginning of the walk with my cousin, so, like the Hadrian’s Wall trip, this walk won’t be totally solo. But we’ll only be walking together for the first 3 days and afterwards I’ll be on my own, so I already know that the walk is going to have several different components for me. Some of it will be shared and some of it will be solo, but will I crave more time in the company of other pilgrims? Will I want to carry on by myself? Will I only meet French pilgrims and therefore be forced to speak in French?? (a thought that sort of terrifies me, even though part of the appeal of a walk in France was that I would be able to have an easier time with communication. Plus I love France).

After my walk is a return to La Muse, my writer’s retreat. In many ways it feels like I was just there. I know that there’s been a solid 10 months since I returned from my last trip to Europe, and life happened in the meantime, but I also feel like I’m continuing the retreat I started last year. Some of the same Musers will be returning with me: I have four sort of ‘built in’ friends this time around, and I’m hoping that this sense of continuity will help me jump right in and get down to work. That, and also go out and roam around the mountains; relax, recharge, and become re-inspired.

Walk in my neighborhood, Rose Valley

Springtime walk around my neighborhood

A week in Paris rounds out the summer, and there’s the possibility of reconnecting there with a few friends I’ve made on these summer adventures, as well as more time to follow my whims: wander and write and drink coffee.

So this year, it feels like there might be a good and welcome balance to my travels. In the past, these have been very solo trips: I take off totally on my own, and the only connections I find are the ones that I have to make. But this time around, each piece of my trip includes some kind of already-established connection, and this feels good to me. I’ll certainly be doing my own thing and having my own adventures, but sharing this part of my life feels appealing, too.

The next time I check in will most likely be from France. As ever, I hope to blog while I walk (and we’ll see how well I keep up with the posts ‘in real time’).

So here’s to summer: to long warm days, to freedom in all shapes and forms, to adventure. Let’s all go out and have an adventure.

Lake Erie, Geneva, OH

Lake Erie, Geneva, OH

A Race to the End; Day 5 on Hadrian’s Wall, Carlisle to Bowness-on-Solway (15-miles, 23km)

I wouldn’t recommend anyone do what Heather and I did for Day 5 of our Hadrian’s Wall walk.

The actual mileage of the day’s walk wasn’t that bad- a solid 15 miles- and the terrain was fairly (mostly? completely?) flat, with a mix of pavement and soft grass walking.

But if you read my last post, you’ll remember that I ended it with a bit of a conundrum. Due to time restraints, we only had five days to complete the 84-mile route, but the worst part about this plan was that we’d need to do the final 15-miles AND return to London all in the same day.

I knew it was going to be exhausting. We’d have to walk really fast, and then we’d have to take a bus, then a train, then the Underground, then a shuttle in order to get to our hotel by the airport.

Would it have made more sense to sleep in and enjoy a leisurely breakfast and explore the city of Carlisle before catching our train back to London?

Probably.

Breakfast at Howard Lodge, Hadrian's Wall Path

But I bet you can guess what Heather and I did… we walked. We walked really fast.

I can’t say that I enjoyed our last day of walking in the same way that I enjoyed the other days of our Hadrian’s Wall journey; there just wasn’t time to think, or slow down, or hesitate or pause. I took some photos, but I never lingered. And there was a lot to linger over.

Bridge in Carlisle, Hadrian's Wall Path

The walk weaved through the same park that led us into Carlisle the day before, but due to a diversion we were rerouted out of the park and through the city. I actually enjoyed this diversion quite a bit (aside from the stress of wondering whether it was adding more mileage and time to our day’s walk); we got to pass by Carlisle’s castle, and in general got a much better sense of the city. There was a lot of countryside walking on this route, and that is wonderful, but something I’ve grown to love about these treks is that they’re not wilderness trails. We get to see it all: open countryside and wild moorland and busy towns and cities too.

Walking through a park, Hadrian's Wall Path
Park, Carlisle, England
Carlisle Castle, Hadrian's Wall Path

We had good weather for the entire day: a mostly sunny morning, followed by a cloudy early afternoon. After Carlisle the path returns to the countryside, and passes through several small villages.

House, Hadrian's Wall Path
Church and cemetery, Hadrian's Wall Path
Countryside on Hadrian's Wall Path

We took only one real break, 15 or 20 minutes sitting on a concrete slab in the Solway Estuary (tide was low, thankfully. You’ve got to check tide-times before walking this section, otherwise you may get stuck waiting until the tide recedes- the road is virtually impassable when the tide is high). We scarfed down food and just when I could begin to feel myself relaxing and enjoying the strange beauty of our resting spot, we needed to pack up and continue on.

Check the tides, Hadrian's Wall Path
Solway Estuary, Hadrian's Wall Path

The path here is all on tarmac, totally straight and it’s like that scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail (have I referenced this before? When I walk I feel like I think about it all the time…): Sir Lancelot is running through a field, ready to attack, but he keeps running and running and never gets any closer. Well, in any case, this is what the walk along the marsh felt like: walking and walking and nothing in the distance seems to be getting any closer and you think you might be walking down this road forever (maybe a bit like the Meseta on the Camino?).

This part was a little tough on the feet, as well, and even after we moved away from the marsh, the path seemed to continue on the road for a long time. So long that eventually Heather and I wondered if we’d done something wrong.

Day 5 on Hadrian's Wall

And this was the first time that both of us missed a turn and went off route. It ended up okay- we just followed the road rather than a dirt path, so we didn’t really veer off course- but I think we may have added a little distance. Plus, I’m sure our detour wasn’t nearly as beautiful and was certainly tougher on the feet.

But we powered on and I think we were both anxious to arrive in Bowness-on-Solway. As we got down to our last couple of miles, we knew we’d make it with plenty of time to spare (we had a 1:39 bus to catch out of the village), but we still kept up our fast pace because at that point we just wanted to arrive at the end with enough time to sit down, take off our shoes, and have a bite to eat.

About a mile before Bowness-on-Solway the route passes through Port of Carlisle and it was here that we ran into Roger. At first we only noticed an old man in a floppy hat, propped up on a bicycle. Then we saw a large signpost behind him, with an arrow pointing towards Bowness-on-Solway, but also one pointing back to Wallsend.

Roger and his signpost, Hadrian's Wall

The man introduced himself to us, and we soon learned that Roger stations himself in this spot nearly every day of the Hadrian’s Wall walking season. He learns where walkers hail from, and adjusts the signpost accordingly. He changes the cities and mileage with every walker who passes by, and offers to take a photo (he also points out a small donation box, and we were happy to put in a few coins).

Roger's Signpost, Hadrian's Wall

I thought Roger and his sign was an excellent way to mark the end of a long walk: what a souvenir, to have a photo of us at the end, with a sign of how far we’d walk and how far we’d traveled to get there!

One mile from the end, Hadrian's Wall

Another mile to Bowness-on-Solway and then we were done! We found the official ‘end’ of the route, took a few photos, and then settled into a table at King’s Arm, the main pub in town.

We may not have had time to stop and smell the roses for this day’s walk, but I do have to say that there’s something satisfying and even exciting at attempting a physical challenge. At this point I know that I can walk long distances, but walking that fast for that long was something a bit new. When we set off we weren’t totally convinced that we could do it (which was a little nerve-wracking but worst case scenario was that we could have taken a taxi back to Carlisle if we missed the bus). But when we finished, it felt like a real victory.

We didn’t stroll up to the end- we marched there, we sailed there (some might even say that we were carried by the wind).

So that’s another walk in the books; time to set my sights on the next one!

The end of Hadrian's Wall Path

(Did you miss the other daily recaps? Here they are: Day One, Day Two, Day Three, Day Four)

Adventures in the rain; Day 4 on Hadrian’s Wall, Gilsland to Carlisle (20 miles, 31km)

It’s a cool and rainy day here in Philadelphia, the sort of day for organizing and baking a cake and writing a blog post. I want to get these last recaps of the Hadrian’s Wall trek out, because before I know it I’ll be headed off on my summer adventure! (Still a month to go, but I have a feeling that this time is going to go by in the blink of an eye).

So speaking of a rainy day, let’s talk about Day 4 on Hadrian’s Wall. When I woke up in the morning from my cozy bed at Slackhouse Organic Farm, I heard a pitter-patter on the window. Uh-oh.

I got dressed and shoved my things in my pack and then peered out the window for a closer look. The sky seemed to be spitting rain but it didn’t look too bad. Sort of like a mist. And a mist isn’t too bad to walk in, right?

a rainy day at Slackhouse Organic Farm, Hadrian's Wall

Heather and I headed to the lounge and kitchen area, where we settled into the breakfasts that we had ordered the night before: I had a large french press full of good strong coffee, and fried eggs over toast. In addition to this, I’d also ordered toast and jam. The toast was all I was going to eat initially- bread and butter and coffee being my preferred breakfast on any given day- but Diane, our hostess, talked me into something heartier and so I added some eggs. And the eggs were good but the warm loaf of bread that was wrapped in a tea towel and served with homemade marmalade? I must have eaten half the loaf.

Lounge at Slackhouse Organic Farm, Hadrian's Wall

Diane gave us some advice about the weather, as she squinted into the gray morning. “Rain before 7, fine by 11.”

I liked how promising these words were, and so Heather and I suited up and headed out. Neither of us wore any of our rain gear because it seemed like the rain had mostly stopped, but what were we thinking? About five minutes into our walk I had to stop to put on my rain jacket, and a bit further on Heather did the same.

We separated once we got back to the route (Slackhouse Organic Farm was about a 10 minute walk off the path). I wanted to hunt for an inscription on a stone that was supposedly somewhere on the Wall close to Birdoswald (the remains of another fort), so Heather continued west while I backtracked a bit. I found myself wandering around an open field, staring at stones in the Wall hoping I would see something, while the rain started to come down harder.

I soon realized that it was like looking for a needle in a haystack, so I gave up and started walking. As I passed by Birdoswald- too early to be open- I considered finding a dry, tucked away spot under an awning to change into my rain pants. I hesitated, but then kept walking, convinced that the rain wasn’t actually that bad (once again- what was I thinking??).

But I didn’t really consider the effect of the wind. I suppose the rain was never really that bad, but the fact that the wind was blowing it straight into me as I walked meant that my clothes were becoming very wet. Most concerning were my pants. I’ve walked in a bit of rain on the Camino before, and my pants got wet, but because I walked in the summer it was never really a big deal. My legs would feel wet but once the rain stopped it was always warm enough that the pants would dry and it would all work out fine.

But I never thought about what wet legs might feel like in 40-something degree weather (which is what we started walking in that morning). Very quickly my legs got very cold. By this point I’d moved away from Birdoswald and was walking through fields and countryside, with a street running parallel to the track. There was no cover, no dry areas, nothing but grass and sheep for as far as the eye could see.

I continued to walk but as soon as I saw a cluster of trees tucked against a stone wall (not the wall, I don’t think), I ducked beneath it, took off my pack, and dug around. I couldn’t just put my rain pants on over my hiking pants because the hiking pants would still be wet and I’d still have cold legs. So I did the only thing I could think to do, after looking far down the road and assuring myself that there were no cars coming.

One foot and one leg at a time, I took off my shoes and then my pants and put on my long underwear layer and then my rain pants. This took some balance and there was a lot of hopping around a field in my underwear involved, but eventually I got myself redressed (oh what a show for all the sheep and lambs!).

changing room, Hadrian's Wall

My changing room on Hadrian’s Wall

This was my first time using rain pants and I have to sing their praises. My layering system was perfect for walking in the rain in cool springtime temperatures. My legs were dry and warm and the rain pants continued to keep everything dry and warm. Between those and my rain jacket (with a buff over my forehead to keep wet hair out of my eyes), I actually felt really comfortable walking in the rain, which is the first time that’s ever happened.

I think I could have kept walking in the rain for a few hours without too much complaint, but after only about 30 minutes the rain stopped (of course).

Path through the countryside, Day 4 on Hadrian's Wall
Hadrian's Wall Path
Signpost on Hadrian's Wall

The skies stayed gray for another hour or two, but then they suddenly cleared and we were treated to sharp blue skies and fluffy white clouds for the rest of the day. And despite it being another long day, the walking felt good, with mostly flat terrain.

Blue skies on Hadrian's Wall Route
Blue skies and white clouds, Hadrian's Wall
Field of sheep with a tree, Hadrian's Wall

Aside from the rain, we had just a bit of more bad luck on this day. Both of the places where we planned to take breaks were closed! The first was a small tea shop in the village of Walton (this is also the last spot where the remains of the Wall are visible). Despite our guidebook advertising opening hours Tues-Sat, we arrived on a Wednesday to find it not open until Thursday. Grr. We hit the post office just before they shut their doors for the day (around noon), and a kind woman inside let us use their bathroom. We ate a snack at a picnic table in a park nearby, but then kept moving; in another 7-miles there would be an Inn where we could stop for a late lunch.

But when we arrived at the Stag Inn we discovered that this, too, was all closed up. Peering through the windows only led us to believe that- despite how pleasant the place looked from the outside- that maybe they had shuttered for good. (But later we found out that the place wouldn’t be open until sometime in the summer. We were mislead by our guidebooks once again, which promised opening hours all-year long).

The Stag Inn, Hadrian's Wall

I didn’t have much food left on me, and I suppose I could have made it all the way to Carlisle but we made a short detour about 3-miles before the end of our day for what felt like the first true break. There was a pub in a hotel just off route, and after refueling we continued on for the last leg of the day.

The walk into Carlisle was so pleasant: a sunny stroll through a big park, full of dog walkers and joggers and bikers.

Bridge into Carlisle, England, Hadrian's Wall

And when we arrived at our B&B it felt like a little paradise: a spacious room with three beds, a tea tray with biscuits, a shower with hot water, a window with a view over the neighboring rooftops. We could have stayed in our room for hours, but after showering and washing our socks, we headed into the city for some dinner and some wandering.

Howard Lodge, Carlisle, England, Hadrian's Wall
View over rooftops of Carlisle, England

Carlisle is a place I definitely could have spent more time in, and I was strongly considering axing our plan to walk the next day. Our final day of walking was going to be a difficult feat (hehe): we needed to walk 15 miles to Bowness-on-Solway in enough time to catch a 1:39pm bus back to Carlisle (where we would catch a 3pm train back to London). This basically meant that we would have to walk at a fast pace with very minimal break time for the entire 15-miles, and then turn around and go right back to where we started that morning. No time to stop and smell the roses, no coffee breaks, no lingering over photos.

This isn’t my preferred way to walk, but it was either end our trek short and enjoy the sights in Carlisle (which was so tempting), or attempt to do the entire Hadrian’s Wall route, from the very beginning to the very end.

Can you guess which one we picked? Stay tuned.

Hadrian's Wall Path, Carlisle
(If you missed them, here are recaps from Day 1, Day 2, Day 3)

Hold Onto Your Hat!; Day 3 on Hadrian’s Wall, Grindon to Gilsland (15 miles/24km)

My favorite part of Day 3 on Hadrian’s Wall was the wind.

That might seem a little strange, considering the wind was wild and since we were walking east to west, it was blowing strongly against us and made the walking 10 times more difficult than it should have been. All of this and yet- the wind was powerful, and dramatic. And considering that the bulk of our walk was on vast and open moorland, isolated and remote, our only company an ancient and crumbling wall… well, the wind felt like it was supposed to be part of the scene.

Hadrian's Wall, Grindon to Gilsland

There were a couple times that I just laughed. I was standing up on a hilltop, my arms outstretched, leaning forward but propped up by that powerful wind, and laughing was about the only thing that I could do. I laughed out loud- thrilled and a little crazed- my voice  grabbed up by that wind and carried swiftly away. Could Heather- just 10 paces ahead- hear me? Could the newborn lamb hear me? I could barely hear myself.

The wind knocked us around, sometimes throwing me several steps off the course of the path. It pushed my stick around, my hair flew in all directions.

It was great.

Blown by the wind on Hadrian's Wall

Excuse the expression on my face; I must have been reacting to the wind!

When we set off in the morning, I assumed that we’d have a somewhat easy day- only 15 miles, from Grindon into Gilsland. It was 8 miles less than the day before and yet, we didn’t arrive at our destination until nearly 7pm. Our start was slow and we lingered over ruins and forts and milecastles and turrets, but still, I blame the wind. I didn’t account for that wind.

There was no sun, either, but there was also no rain, and that was key. And like the wind, I thought the gray and cloudy skies added to the drama of the day. Because for nearly the entire stretch of our walk, we were just alongside the Wall. It stretched and curved, up and down a series of endless dips and crests.

Hadrian's Wall Path

We were in some wild country, indeed. Shortly after setting off we passed through Sewingshields Crags, the land of King Arthur and his knights. Next came Housesteads, the most preserved and intact fort on the Wall (there is a visitor’s center and a fee to enter the “grounds” of Housesteads; Heather and I lingered in the shop and read a few plaques but decided not to spend the money or take more time from our day. If you’re walking a short day I think the fort is well worth the visit, and there’s a nice selection of postcards and ice cream, as well as a small museum, inside the shop).

Further along, after we passed a couple of very newborn baby lambs (what a fun part of walking in the springtime!), we came upon Sycamore Gap. This is a rather famous spot, as there’s a large and imposing tree that appeared in the film Robin Hood. I’d read this in my guidebook before setting off that morning (and I just have to quote what the book has to say about the tree and Kevin Costner: “where, despite the distinct disadvantage of being a tree, it still managed to appear less wooden than its co-star”).

We made it to the hill just above Sycamore Gap, and as we’re descending, Heather said- “Here’s your tree!”

Sycamore Gap, The Robin Hood Tree, Hadrian's Wall

Confession time. Here’s something that happens to me when I walk: I get really into the actual walking part- the journey, the movement- and I just sort of glide through wherever I am and sometimes miss out on the details. And I wasn’t even gliding at this part of the day (there were too many hills for that), but I think that as I walk a long trek, I sort of begin to simplify things around me. I see things, but I don’t always fully process what I’m seeing. I just sort of take everything in, and the ground is the ground, a tree is a tree, a flower is a flower.

This happened a lot on the Camino; at the end of the day, people would say to me, “Did you see the plaque that marked the crossing between Spain and France? Did you see that castle over there? Did you see the ‘Santiago’ sign, just before entering the city? Did you see the first glimpses of the Atlantic Ocean?” These were big things that I just sort of missed, and I’m sure that I did, in fact, see them all, but they didn’t really register.

This happened at Sycamore Gap. We were clearly at the Robin Hood tree; it was this huge and solitary tree, and there were dozens of people all around this part of the route (because it’s the most scenic part of Hadrian’s Wall, many tourists and locals come here for a day-trip). When we got to the bottom of the hill we stood around awhile at the base of the tree, so Heather could take a photo. I started ahead of her, having had enough of the tree and the crowds, and it wasn’t until later in the day that I sort of said, “Oh, I must have missed the Robin Hood tree.” (not realizing that the tree at Sycamore Gap WAS the Robin Hood tree).

Sycamore Gap, The Robin Hood Tree, Hadrian's Wall

Heather, quite understandably, looked at me as though I was a little mad. (Maybe I am. Does this sort of thing happen to anyone else??). She’d even said- “That’s your tree!” and it all just went over my head.

Oh well. I actually sort of like that when I walk or hike, I can get into a zone where I can block things out and just focus on the essential. In any case, we had a good laugh about it over a late lunch, where we’d stopped at a pub called Twice Brewed Inn in the little hamlet of Once Brewed.

Lunch at Twice Brewed Inn, Hadrian's Wall

The rest of the day’s walk was full of more up and down, more wall, more sheep and lambs.

Climbing over stiles, Hadrian's Wall

Sheep in the springtime, Hadrian's Wall
Day 3 of Hadrian's Wall

Our destination- Slack House Organic Farm- took a bit longer to get to than we expected, and we were a little unsure what the dinner situation would be like when we arrived (I realized, too late, that I was supposed to have called ahead to reserve dinner). But when we arrived, everything worked out: we were the only people staying there that night, so Diane- one of the owners- set us up in the large 3-bed ‘family room’. She whipped us up a hearty vegetable stew with pasta (there must have been a dozen different vegetables in the stew, and it was warm and so delicious). I’d definitely advise reserving dinner ahead (Heather and I were prepared to eat whatever scraps we had in our packs), but Diane was gracious and kind, and took care to make sure that we were well fed.

Dinner at Slackhouse Organic Farm, Hadrian's Wall

That night I got my best sleep of the entire journey. Between the hills, the wind, the miles and the satisfying stew, I slept deeply. Good thing, too, because we had another 20 mile day ahead!

Beware of Shortcuts; Day Two on Hadrian’s Wall (Heddon-on-the-Wall to Grindon, 23-miles/35km)

I had two main worries about the Hadrian’s Wall Trip.

Worry #1: Rain.

And Worry #2 was that I was fitting too many miles into too short of a time frame. Was 5 days going to feel too rushed? Would some of the days be too long to be enjoyable?

The border agent at Heathrow certainly thought so.

“Why are you here?” was her first question.

I explained my walking trip, and how I had loved my experience on the West Highland Way so much that I immediately started looking into Hadrian’s Wall.

“When are you starting your walk?” was her next question.

“Uh,” I hesitated for just a moment. “Tomorrow morning.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “So you’re catching a train today? From Kings Cross?”

I nodded, and she continued. “What about jet lag?”

I no longer felt as though she was assessing my intentions for being in the country, but rather critiquing my travel plans.

“I might be a little tired?” I offered, unsure of what else to say.

She then went on to ask when I was leaving, and how long I had to walk. Finally, she stamped my passport and as she handed it back to me, offered a quick smile (though her eyes betrayed her doubt). “Good luck,” she said.

Honestly, I didn’t think it was luck that I needed (other than some luck with the weather forecast). It was more determination, and persistence, and stamina. No, I didn’t need luck to do this walk in 5 days. I just needed to believe that I could do it.

Feet and stones, walking Hadrian's Wall

I say all of this because Day 2 was a big one. On these long walks, I don’t normally plan a 23-mile/35km day at the very start of my journey, but for this particular trip, I didn’t have much of a choice. Our really long day was going to have be either our second or third day of walking, and I knew that the elevation and hills were going to be tougher on Day 3.

So Day 2 was our big day. My guess is that we set out around 8:30, following a cooked breakfast in the kitchen of our bunkhouse. Because most of the places where we stayed offered breakfast, we were a bit tied into whatever time all the guests agreed upon. This is one area where I’m still very much in the Camino mode- when the sun comes up, that’s when I want to be walking. On my very biggest Camino days, it was pretty easy to be up and walking by 6:00am (this is in the summertime, and just as the sun was rising). But along Hadrian’s Wall, the earliest I ever saw breakfast offered was 7:30, and I think 8:00 is an even more typical hour.

And I don’t want to skip out on the breakfasts! Houghton North Farm offered a great spread. It was mostly simple stuff: toast and cereal and juice and fruit. But our hostess stood at the griddle and cooked us up fried egg sandwiches with thick slices of bacon and oh man, was that a good sandwich. It was the perfect thing to fill my belly and give me energy to start my day, and almost enough to make up for the fact that there was no coffee. (This was alarming. There was a dusty coffee pot in the corner and when no one was making a move to brew some beans, I asked if I could make a pot. The answer I got was: “You don’t want to drink the coffee I have here. Seriously.”). I made myself a cup of black tea instead, and it was enough to keep away the caffeine headaches but I would probably say that the lack of coffee was the biggest drawback to our stay at Houghton North Farm.

The resident dogs gave us a warm and friendly send off and then we were back on the road, our long day of walking had begun.

dog at Houghton North Farm, Heddon-on-the-Wall, Hadrian's Wall

For the first couple of hours I walked separately from Heather. I kept stopping to take photos and then finally waved her on ahead, and I was content to spend a little time walking alone. It was a different experience- a long trek with a friend- and already I was missing my solo time. And I got it back that morning, as I moved through the soft and quiet countryside. Despite the sunshine, the air was cool and chilly, and I pulled out my buff to wear around my neck for added warmth. As I walked through farmland, I passed groups of sheep who seemed utterly unconcerned about my presence.

Sheep, walking Hadrian's Wall
Path through countryside, walking Hadrian's Wall
Field of rapeseed, walking Hadrian's Wall

Heather and I rejoined at a pub called The Robin Hood, where I finally got my cup of coffee. When we set off again we walked separately for awhile, and this seemed to be the rhythm for the day: walk apart, rejoin, walk together, take a break, walk apart, etc.

In fact, the entire day- despite its length- had a nice rhythm. Our breaks were spaced nicely: we found a beautiful spot in a little cut out on a hillside, where we stopped for some snacks. Later we hit a tea shop for some scones and pastries. And in between was a gorgeous day of walking. I had energy, for nearly the entire walk. In fact, I felt like I was coming alive after our snack break on the hillside, despite having just walked 12 miles. I never felt stronger! Maybe it was the return to that particular way of life: of spending all day in the fresh air, moving your body and eating well. The wind and the sun against my skin made me feel alive, and I felt mostly strong as I moved through all the miles of the day.

Lunch break on Hadrian's Wall
Countryside, walking Hadrian's Wall
Climbing over stiles, walking Hadrian's Wall
Tea and scones break, walking Hadrian's Wall

I was also energized because the Wall made its first real appearance! This would have been a beautiful walk in its own right, but knowing that the Wall was going to be sprouting up periodically throughout our days (not so much the first or last day, but the three days in the middle) made the trek extra thrilling. I kept pulling out my guidebook and looking for traces of the wall: “Those with eagle eyes may be able to make out the platform outline of Milecastle 13,” I read to myself, on the morning of Day 2. I searched and I searched but couldn’t find anything- only realizing later that there really hadn’t been much need, because there were much better and more distinct milecastle remains to come. (A milecastle is basically a mini-castle to house troops, and these were spaced 1000 paces apart (a Roman mile) for the length of the wall. By the end of the walk I could come upon a pile of ruins, and before reading the marker would exclaim: “Milecastle!” or “Turrett!”).

Ruins of Hadrian's Wall
Stile, walking Hadrian's Wall
Selfie at the Wall, Hadrian's Wall

I was enthusiastic, yes, but it was also a long day of walking, and I was slowing down a bit by the end. For the last few hours of the walk Heather was up ahead of me, and usually I could spot her in the distance, her bright pink jacket an easy target to pick out on the route. But then, suddenly, she disappeared, and I assumed that she had powered on ahead.

Path through rolling hills, walking Hadrian's Wall

I was trying to walk at a fast clip myself, because the place we were staying in that night- Old Repeater Station- was pretty much in the middle of nowhere and the owner would be serving us dinner. We’d called that morning before setting off, and when he asked what time we thought we might arrive, I hesitated. “Hmm, maybe 6:00?”

It was 6:30 by the time I made it to our lodging, and it wasn’t without a small mishap. My guidebook shows a shortcut to the B&B, one that cuts off some potentially dangerous road walking. I overshot my mark- where I was supposed to cut down through a field- and had to backtrack a bit. I couldn’t actually find a path or anything that looked like a marked shortcut, but I made my way down the hill well enough, cutting a diagonal line towards the only building in sight. I did have to slosh through a swampy area- causing both of my feet to sink completely into wet, cold mud- but luckily I was at the end of the day and wouldn’t have to spend much time walking in wet socks.

Old Repeater Station, Grindon, Hadrian's Wall

The door of the B&B was ajar and after knocking and waiting around for a minute, I pushed through.

“Hello?” I called out.

I couldn’t hear a thing. I wandered around the first floor, through a sitting room and into a kitchen area and then a dining room. The place was cozy- there was a small room with a woodstove and big leather couches and shelves filled with books. I kept looking around but there was no one in sight- no proprietor, and no Heather, either.

Finally I heard a door open somewhere above me and a man walked down the stairs. It was Les, the owner of the place, and after introductions I asked if anyone else had arrived.

“No,” he replied. “You’re the first one here.”

Heather, somehow, had gotten off track. I wasn’t too worried- she’s an experienced hiker with a good sense about distance, and I knew that even if she had gotten turned around, she’d be able to find her way here eventually. Les was a little more concerned, but I tried to wave it off. He showed me up to our room and it was perfect: two small beds with cozy comforters, a tray filled with coffee and tea and hot chocolate and biscuits, and the most beautiful bathroom with tiled floor and bottles of water and fluffy white towels.

Room in Old Repeater Station, Grindon, Hadrian's Wall

“You can see the route from the window in here,” Les told me, and I peered out, looking into the now gray light of the evening. I squinted, and then smiled. Up on the ridge, walking at a fast pace, was someone wearing a pink jacket. It was Heather.

I went ahead and took a shower, figuring it would be perfect timing and that Heather would be here and could clean up as soon as I was finished. But when I came out of the bathroom the room was empty, and it was quiet downstairs.

I peered out the window again and saw two figures approaching on the road, and recognized the girls that Heather and I had met the night before. We’d been at Houghton North Farm together, and had learned that the girls would also be walking the really long day and staying at Old Repeater Station. I went downstairs to greet them, but also to ask if they’d seen Heather.

“No, we haven’t,” one of them said, looking a bit worried. “But there’s about an hour of light left to walk in, hopefully she’ll find her way here?”

I went outside then, unsure of what else to do, and after a few minutes saw a figure in a pink jacket coming down the hill. I was relieved, and Heather was laughing as she came up to me. She’d climbed over a stile not meant to be on the route, and had veered off track. Eventually she righted herself and it had been her I’d seen on the ridge, before I took my shower. Like me, she’d overshot the “shortcut”, but had a considerably harder time coming down the hill than I did (“There were locked gates,” she said, “and barbed wire!”).

We feasted that night, on fish pie with mashed potato, and salad with avocado and prawns, and a loaf of fresh bread, then tea and cookies up in our room. With a full belly and tired feet, curled up under my blanket, I was content. I was in a large stone house in the middle of an empty field, on a vast and open landscape. The sky was dark and the wind howled and the remains of a 2,000 year old wall sat just above me on a long ridge, stretching on for miles and miles ahead. I couldn’t wait to follow it.

Curve of Hadrian's Wall

A Walking Stick and a Loaf of Bread; Day One of walking Hadrian’s Wall (Newcastle-upon-Tyne to Heddon-on-the-Wall, 15 miles)

We’d arrived in Newcastle-upon-Tyne the day before, on a train from London. Newcastle wouldn’t be the start of our walk- not exactly- as the official beginning (or ending) of Hadrian’s Wall path is in Wallsend, a 15-minute metro ride east of the city. But it’s a great place to begin a long walk, with plenty of amenities, entertainment and transportation options.

I was exhausted when our train pulled into the station. I’d managed only 30-minutes of sleep on my overnight flight, along with just a bit of shut-eye on the train journey. But despite this fatigue, I managed to rebound after we dropped our packs in our hostel and set off to explore the city. I’d originally thought that maybe Heather and I could knock off the first 5-miles of our trek that Saturday afternoon; from Wallsend, the route passes directly back through Newcastle, and I thought this could be a nice introduction to the walk.

sunny day in Newcastle-upon-Tyne

But I quickly realized that there was no way I could do a walk on so little sleep, so we meandered through the city instead, moving slowly and soaking up unexpected warm air and sunshine (Northern England was experiencing a bit of a heat wave at the beginning of our trip!). We wandered up to The Great North Museum: Hancock, a free museum with a large room dedicated to Hadrian’s Wall. There was an interactive model of the wall that snaked through the room, as well as lots of wall artifacts on display.

This would have been a great introduction to the walk IF the museum hadn’t decided to close an hour early that day. We only had about 10-minutes to look at the displays but maybe it was just as well: there’s something I like about a journey where I’m heading into the unknown. I didn’t want to see too much of the wall before I actually saw the wall itself.

We walked along the Quayside and ate an excellent dinner at a place called Red House. The only thing on the menu were their homemade butcher pies, mash and peas, and thank goodness for that. It was one of the best meals of the trip!

Homemade butcher pies in Newcastle-upon-Tyne

Sunday morning rolled around and we both agreed that staying in a hostel might not have been the best way to start a trek. The hostel itself was fine, but we were there on a Saturday night and most of the others staying in our room and down the hall weren’t trying to get a full night’s sleep before a long walk. So it was a long night of people coming and going, drunk bunk mates arriving back to the room at 4am, and generally just a lot of noise.

Albatross hostel, Newcastle-upon-Tyne

But, that’s nothing that a good cup of coffee can’t fix! We left the hostel early and grabbed drinks and pastries from the only open shop in sight, then jumped on the metro for the quick ride out to Wallsend.

Now, a note about the direction of this walk. Heather and I were walking east to west, starting in Wallsend and ending in Bowness-on-Solway. People do walk in this direction, but the more I learned about the path (and the more we heard as we encountered people on our journey), the preferred direction seems to be west to east. Supposedly, views of the wall are better in this direction, plus the wind will be at your back, pushing you forward as you walk. (Oh, just wait until I write about Day 3 of our journey… the wind was mighty. Really mighty).

And I’d read all of this while I was planning the trip, but something made me choose to go east to west. Honestly, I think some of this has to do with the Camino. Or my long-held dreams about my east-to-west road trip across the United States. “Go west, young man.” Somehow, walking east just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

So beginning in the east it was. Despite studying two different guide books, we had some trouble finding the start of the walk, but eventually we found ourselves on a path, snapped a photo of the first Hadrian’s Wall sign we saw, and began walking.

Day One of walking Hadrian's Wall Path
Bowness-on-Solway: only 84 miles away!

The day was glorious. Soon, our layers were peeled off and we were walking in t-shirts. Within an hour I found a suitable walking stick, and before long the path wound down to Walker Riverside Park, where we were able to walk along the Tyne for several miles as it lead us back into Newcastle.

Hadrian's Way, along the River Tyne
Entering Newcastle on Hadrian's Wall Path

And once we were in Newcastle- still walking along the Tyne- we passed through a large, bustling outdoor market. It was like a slice of heaven for a walker! The sun was shining, families were out and about, and there were what seemed like hundreds of stalls filled with crafts and mementos and food and treats. There was ice cream and crepes and baked goods and tacos and pulled-pork sandwiches and coffee. We saw several little carts or trucks that were converted into moveable cafes, an espresso machine fitted into the trunk space.

Heather and I lamented the fact that we were passing through around 10am, too early for lunch. But we lingered there anyway, and I bought a little package of coffee beans to bring home, as well as a large loaf of artisan bread. (It was a really, really large loaf of bread. I struggled a bit to fit it into my pack, and once I started walking I began to wonder why I would buy such a large thing… but it turns out that the bread came in handy over the course of my walk. Lesson #1: Never pass up the opportunity to buy a loaf of fresh bread).

coffee beans at an outdoor market in Newcastle

The walk carried us out of Newcastle, continuing along the River Tyne but eventually meandering off. It continues for a stretch through the Tyne Riverside Country Park, which was crowded on such a warm and sunny day. I could only find two drawbacks to this first day of walking. For starters, there’s very little evidence of Hadrian’s Wall along this stretch (aside from a bit of wall at the very beginning of the route in Wallsend, but Heather and I didn’t exactly know what we were looking for so it’s anyone’s guess as to whether we actually saw the Wall here or not). And the second is that the entire day- all 15 miles- was on pavement. This is a tough way to begin a walk, and my feet were aching by the end of the day.

Cat guarding the gate on Hadrian's Wall Path

But overall, what a beautiful start! Riverside paths and parks, sunshine and outdoor markets, coffee and bread, a classic Sunday roast for lunch, and a wonderful spot to rest our heads at the end of the day. We stayed at Houghton North Farm in Heddon-on-the-Wall; some of the farm’s buildings were made with stone from Hadrian’s Wall! (This is typical in the villages and towns close to the route of the wall; once the Romans left, much of the wall was dismantled and the stone was used for other purposes by local landowners). I suppose that our lodging at Houghton North Farm could be considered a hostel or a bunkhouse, but with a twin room and only a few other people staying there, it felt both spacious and cozy.

Proper Sunday roast on Hadrian's Wall Path
Twin room at Houghton North Farm, Heddon-on-the-Wall
Houghton North Farm, Heddon-on-the-Wall

Overall, it was a very satisfying and great start to the journey. By the end of the day, I could feel that I was back in the walking groove, and it was a good thing, too. Because the next day, we’d be tackling a 23-mile/35km stage!

Countryside of Heddon-on-the-Wall, Hadrian's Wall Path

5-days, 84-miles, Millions of Stones: A Walk along Hadrian’s Wall

A few days ago I returned from a week in Northern England, where I walked coast to coast: from Wallsend in the east to Bowness-on-Solway in the west. My route followed the length of Hadrian’s Wall, an 84-mile path that stretches across the most northern regions of England; at some parts of the trail and on clear days, you can see over to Scotland.

There was wind, there was rain, there was abundant sunshine and there were sheep. So many sheep.

sheep, Hadrian's Wall Path

All in all, the walk was a resounding success.

I thought, and hoped, to blog while I was there, but managing a blog post after a full day of walking on a solo-trip is hard enough, but it proved to be next-to impossible while traveling with a friend. I suppose I could have crept off to a quiet corner and dashed off some words, but given that the biggest draw of doing a walking adventure with a friend was to have some companionship in the evenings, I decided that the blogging would have to wait until I returned.

I’ll write in more detail about each day of the walk, but for now, I want to start with more general thoughts.

I can’t remember the first time I heard about this route, but I’m fairly certain it was from someone in my Philadelphia Camino group. That group is full of avid walkers (did I even need to say that?), and their jaunts aren’t confined to just Camino routes. Lately, members have been talking about the Via Francigena (pilgrimage trail from Canterbury to Rome), and Hadrian’s Wall Path, raving about each route. Then, when I was in Scotland last year for the West Highland Way, I heard more about Hadrian’s Wall. “It was stunning,” said a girl in my Glasgow hostel. “The wall was incredible.”

Walking Hadrian's Wall

What is the Wall, exactly? Built by Emperor Hadrian in the 2nd century, it’s northern Europe’s largest surviving Roman monument, a fortification that stretches for 84-miles in the border country between England and Scotland. It is punctuated by the remains of milecastles and turrets and forts, and while only about 10 miles of the actual wall remain (and what is left doesn’t rise to even half of its original height), the remains are stunning and the path of this trail was so well designed that walkers rarely stray from the course of the wall.

The trail opened in 2003 and the waymarking is good (look for acorns), with plenty of lodging options along the route. The scenery is diverse; the walk passes through the cities of Newcastle and Carlisle, through moorland and dale, and over undulating countryside. While one of the stages has a lot of ups and downs, overall the path isn’t considered too difficult (and, in fact, is the easiest of the UK National Trails).

Acorn signpost for Hadrian's Wall

My spring break is just a week long, but I knew I wanted to squeeze in some sort of trip. I have ample time to travel in the summer and I haven’t stopped appreciating that for a second, but the 10-months in-between my travels can be long ones, especially those cold winter days. I needed something to look forward to, I needed a new adventure.

With just a week, would I be able to complete a walk across England? Would early April be too cold, too wet, too muddy? A friend contacted me after she heard that I was planning this trip, and asked if she could come along. I agreed, excited to spend time with a friend that I don’t get to see enough, but also just a bit worried. What would it be like to walk and plan with someone else? Would I miss my solo adventuring?

I found a few itineraries for 5-days along Hadrian’s Wall, and I began to research hostels and bunkhouses and B&B’s. Despite being early in the season (the “real” Hadrian’s Wall season runs from the 1st of May until October), I decided to book lodging in advance. I worried that because we were early, some places might not be open, and with little flexibility in our tight time-frame, I didn’t want to have to scramble or skip sections of the route because we couldn’t find a place to stay.

Howard Lodge, Carlisle, Hadrian's Wall

I began tracking the weather a month before we left, and was heartened to see that the weeks preceding our walk weren’t getting much rain. Maybe this means there won’t be much mud! I wrote to my travel companion, Heather.

Walking in the cooler spring temperatures meant a couple of new additions to my “Camino” pack: a pair of rain pants, Crocs, a long-sleeved Merino wool shirt, a base-layer for my legs. I swapped my sleeping bag for a sleeping bag liner, since we’d be staying in bunkhouses and B&B’s that provided bedding.

Packing for my walk on Hadrian's Wall

With two weeks to go, I began to hike in earnest, managing all the miles that I could. My longest training hike was 12-miles but without a full pack, and I worried that I was a bit out of shape.

Do you think I’ll ever head into a trip without a head full of worries? Probably not. I’ve done this walking thing several times now, and while I am more confident, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to shake the nerves that come before one of these journeys. And maybe that’s best, because if these trips ever become too normal, too second-nature, then I’m afraid they’ll have lost some of their appeal. No, I hope that I always hold onto a bit of those pre-trip nerves: the questions about my gear and my pack, the panic about whether I’ve trained enough, the uneasy dreams (nightmares?) about blisters and rain. It adds to the adventure of it all.

And this was, indeed, another adventure, even if it might have felt a little different because it wasn’t a solo trek. I could feel my excitement mounting as I boarded my flight, as I touched down in London, as I dug an old Oyster card from my bag, as I traveled the length of the Piccadilly line, as I met my friend at Kings Cross (by Platform 9 3/4, because where else would you meet a friend before a journey?).

I chugged a coffee and we boarded our train, and as we left London to head north, I stared out the window and thought, “It’s good to be on the road again.”

Countryside; Walking Hadrian's Wall

Things that surprised me about the Camino de Santiago

Before my first Camino I spent a lot of time reading blogs and books and articles about my upcoming journey. This is my approach to anything that makes me nervous: I prepare, and then I prepare some more. I liked knowing what was in store for me, I liked having the information. After weeks of training and frustrating hours spent in REI searching for the right pair of shoes, after reserving my first two nights on the trail and debating whether I needed special, quick-drying underwear or not (verdict: not needed, but it’s an awfully nice splurge), I set off for Spain.

In some ways I was really prepared for this trip. All of my diligent training walks meant that I felt mostly strong on the very first days of the Camino, and my meticulous packing meant that I wasn’t carrying more than what I needed.

I had a decent idea of the terrain, I’d made note of a few special albergues along the way.

But then, there were the other things. A whole bunch of things that I hadn’t considered, hadn’t expected, or just completely surprised me. Here are a few of them:

The Camino Shuffle

I’ve heard people refer to the ‘Camino Shuffle’ as the kind of walking you do when you have blisters on your feet but you need to carry on walking, so you just have to go off and hobble down the trail as best as you can.

To me, the Camino Shuffle means something totally different. This is the shuffle I do when I really, really have to go to the bathroom.

It hits you out of nowhere. This is what happens after a week or two of walking the Camino, at least in my experience, and no one warned me about it. I’d be walking along, fine as day, and suddenly I’m hit with an overwhelming need to pee. It’s not some slow thing that comes on gradually, oh no. All of a sudden it’s there, and it’s urgent. And man, it’s annoying. I drink a lot of water on the Camino but I drink a lot of water in my real life, too, and it’s just different on the Camino. There were too many times that I was shuffling along as fast as I could, hoping and praying that a cluster of trees or bushes would appear so that I could duck behind them and relieve myself. Or that a car wouldn’t zip by at an inopportune moment. Sometimes I couldn’t go more than 30 minutes without needing to use the bathroom yet again.

There’s all this talk about ample bars and restaurants along the Camino so when the need arises, you can always duck in and buy a coffee or a bottle of water and use their restroom. But in my experience, if you’re really drinking as much water as you should be (which is a lot), then you’re going to get the call of nature a whole lot more than you ever expected.

Or, you know, maybe this is just me.

(There is nearly always a cluster of trees or a bush you can duck behind. You can always find some tucked away place, if you’re able to keep walking. But I have to tell you, I had a couple pretty close calls…)

Needing to Tell Someone I Want to Walk Alone; Needing to Tell Someone I Want to Walk With Them

Camino talk often includes this notion of how you’re never really alone, but at the same time how you can go off and do your own thing. And this is totally true! I’ve always said that I’m never really alone on my Camino’s (unless I’m on the San Salvador but that’s a different Camino altogether), and I have ample time to be on my own as well.

Usually, this all works out nicely. It’s sort of amazing how friends pop up just when you need them, and how I get a quiet and uninterrupted morning just when I’m feeling like I need to be alone.

But sometimes, you have to ask for what you need, or tell someone what you need. This might not be difficult for others but man, this is one of the biggest lessons that the Camino has taught me.

I love making people happy, and it’s easy for me to be accommodating. But I was on the Camino for me, and (even though I’ve been three times now), it’s this rare opportunity: time and space to do exactly what you want to do. My walks on the Camino have always been about spending time with myself- that deep and introspective and beautiful time that I adore. It’s certainly about my connections with others as well, and I’m excited about some upcoming trips and opportunities to practice walking with others, and not totally alone. But my past Camino’s have been about me, and my freedom.

I kind of learned my lesson the hard way on my first Camino, when a handsome Irish man didn’t want to let me out of his sight. I stood my ground and asked for my own time, but then I relented. It went back and forth like this for awhile and after the Camino ended I wished I had spent my last 10 days in a different way: totally free.

At other times people have wanted to walk with me when I was craving a day alone, and eventually, I learned how to tell them what I needed. Sometimes that was hard. And the opposite of needing to be alone is true, too: sometimes you have to know when you don’t want to be alone, and sometimes you have to practice asking for companionship. And this isn’t always easy, either.

Pilgrim on Camino de Santiago

Sometimes You’re Sick and Tired and There’s Absolutely No Camino Magic

I spent 65 days on a Camino route over my first two trips to Spain. Of these 65 days, I can honestly say I only had one day (and not even the entire day) that I felt unhappy and frustrated and wishing that I could just take a break from all of the walking. I had other difficult moments (blisters, walking in rain, negotiating the social stuff), but overall my Camino Frances, Camino Norte (Part One), and Camino Primitivo were full of so much happiness and joy and, well, magic. Those feelings energized me and permeated so much of my experience.

But this past summer was a different story. I was on the Camino de San Salvador and the Norte (Part Two) and I got pretty sick on the last day of the San Salvador. I took a rest day in Oviedo, and then I started walking on the Norte and it just wasn’t pretty. I was in bad shape: coughing and sneezing and so fatigued. I’d lost my appetite and I didn’t want to talk to anyone or even share an albergue with anyone because I was afraid my coughing would keep others up (not to mention that I could pass on whatever bug I’d caught).

I was pretty miserable. Being sick is never fun, but being sick while traveling? While you’re in a country where you don’t speak the language and you’re all alone and you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere? I was on a Camino, doing something I absolutely love and it was the last thing I wanted to be doing. And that made me feel even worse, because my precious and beautiful days were becoming a blur of orange juice and tissue packs and being alone in hotel rooms.

Where was the Camino magic in that? How was the “Camino providing”? Was this the Camino I was “supposed to” have?

Believe me, I think the Camino is a powerful experience and I’ve had moments that were so incredible that I truly think there must have been something greater at hand, something pretty special going on. I’ve learned so many lessons, and I’ve learned lessons in the hard parts too… but being that sick? That was just bad luck. Sometimes you get sick. Sometimes you’re miserable, even on a trip of a lifetime. Sometimes you just have to power through to get to the day when you begin to feel better, because that’s how the magic comes back in.

Hotel room on the Camino del Norte

Hotel room in the middle of nowhere

 

They Really Do Give You An Entire Bottle of Wine

It’s true what you’ve heard: the wine in Spain is good. Really good. And it’s cheap- really cheap. And you get a lot. I’d heard all of this before leaving for the Camino but to be honest, I thought it was a bit of a myth. Wine cheaper than water? How is that possible?

But it is.

Usually if you’ve sat down to dinner with a friend and both of you order a pilgrim’s menu, you’ll be given one bottle of wine to share. This is pretty amazing: pilgrim’s menus are usually between 8-12 euros and include two courses, plus dessert, plus bread, and your choice of a bottle of wine or a bottle of water.

On the Frances I was always eating dinner with other people, but on the Norte, there were several times- lunch and dinner- when I was all alone. And when I ordered the pilgrim’s menu, or a menu del dia, an entire bottle of wine was delivered to my table. Sometimes it was an excellent Rioja (a Tempranillo-based red wine from one of the best wine regions in Spain) and these were the times when I wanted to drink the entire bottle (I never could, which is probably not a bad thing).

Be careful, though, if you sit down to a leisurely lunch in some sun-soaked seaside town, drink a good portion of that bottle of wine, and then decide to keep on walking. It could make for quite a different sort of adventure than the kind you’d been used to.

Wine on the Camino de Santiago

I Got to Santiago and Felt Underwhelmed

The morning I walked into Santiago I was excited and full of this amazing, jittery energy. I was so distracted as I was walking through the city towards the cathedral, I even stopped paying attention to the arrows and had to slow down and get my bearings, take a deep breath. There was so much anticipation because I was moments away from arriving to the place that I had walked over 500 miles to get to.

And then I walked into the square in front of the cathedral and it’s not like I was let down or underwhelmed, exactly… but nothing really happened. I walked right to the center of the square and then I stopped walking and I looked up and I wasn’t sure what to do because that was where the walking ends. It was really early in the morning and hardly anyone was around- I liked the peace and quiet but I also just wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen, what I was supposed to do.

Later (and in subsequent years), I’ve seen pilgrims burst into tears. I’ve seen pilgrims lay out flat on the ground with their eyes closed, I’ve seen them in groups- jumping in the air and screaming in happiness and laughing and singing and cheering and hugging and crying.

This was not my experience at all. This is also not the experience for many pilgrims. Sometimes, it’s disconcerting to arrive at the end of something really big, because we haven’t really considered what is supposed to happen next. Or maybe we were expecting something big to happen even if we didn’t know what it would be, and we were disappointed to not feel it or experience it. And in my case, I felt deep in my heart that I wasn’t done walking. Santiago was my destination, but it wasn’t my final destination (which I didn’t realize until I arrived in Santiago). I’m still not sure what my final destination is, or if I even have one.

I love the city of Santiago, I love it more each time that I’m there. And each time, there is something so special about arriving in front of the cathedral… but for me, it’s not a momentous and joyous occasion. It’s something more quiet, something softer, something deeper, sometimes it’s something almost a little bittersweet and sad. And that’s okay.

Empty square in Santiago, Spain

I Thought the Route Was Beautiful

Before I walked the Camino Frances, I stumbled across an article listing 10 reasons why the author believes the Camino de Santiago ‘sucks’. It was jarring. He talked about how often you need to walk on paved road, that you can hear traffic 95% of the time, that the scenery is monotonous (and several other negative points).

After reading this article, I worried that I wouldn’t find the Camino to be beautiful. That I was going to wish I were on a more isolated, rugged path through some wild areas. I knew that the first day through the Pyrenees would be stunning, but would I wish that I could continue walking through the mountains? Would my feet hurt from all of the pavement walking, would I find the parts of Spain that I walked through to be boring and uninspiring?

Turns out, I needn’t have worried. I was in awe for so much of my walk through Spain, and I found the route to be absolutely beautiful. Part of what I loved was how varied the scenery was: mountains and hills and countryside and all of that flat Meseta. I wandered through fields of sunflowers and rows of grapevines. I saw stone ruins and lines of cows and bright wildflowers and bustling city streets and sleepy village squares. I also saw cars and traffic and industrial areas and trash and graffiti and growling dogs on chains. But all of that stuff? It wasn’t what stayed with me, and it didn’t detract from the overall beauty of the impressions of my Camino.

Things that surprised me about the Camino de Santiago

I’m sure those of you who have walked the Camino had some surprises too. Please share, I’d love to hear them!

What to Wear on the Camino de Santiago: A Packing List Explained

It’s the first day of spring and the Camino is in the air.

Finally, we’ve moved out of winter and can now start to think about hitting the trails again. We will purchase flights and train tickets, we will start to get our packing lists together.

I’ve written before about my packing list for the Camino de Santiago, but I’ve never gone into much detail. I had to do a lot of research before I walked the Camino Frances, because I had absolutely no idea what I would need for a walk like this. And the truth was, I didn’t really have anything, so I had to buy everything.

I had some hits and some misses on that first Camino trip, but over the past few years I’ve replaced and added items and I think I finally have a pack that works for me.

Because I relied so much on other blogs when I was planning for my first Camino, I thought that I could expand a bit on my own packing list, and talk about some of the items that have worked for me. Who knows, they might work for you, too!

This post is going to focus exclusively on clothing: what to wear on the Camino de Santiago. It’s a basic summer wardrobe for the female pilgrim, though I think it could (mostly) work for men, too. And I’m keeping this very basic: add whatever you want or need (but always be mindful of weight!).

what to wear on the Camino de Santiago

Let’s start from the bottom, up:

Shoes

An entire post could be devoted to the topic of footwear on the Camino, and I’ll attempt to keep my thoughts brief.

I think you really have two good options when deciding what kind of shoes to wear while walking: hiking boots or some type of sneaker/trainer. That being said, I’m somewhere in between; I wear a hiking shoe. It’s sturdier and generally more supportive than a sneaker, but not as heavy and heat-trapping as a boot. If you’re walking the Camino in the summer or in the warmer spring or fall months, then the worry about wearing a boot is that your foot is going to get really hot, which could potentially cause blisters. Its weight is going to get uncomfortable and I would say that unless you need extra support for your ankles (which some people do and then it’s absolutely wise to wear a hiking boot), then a lighter shoe will more than suffice on the trail.

It’s clear that I think a hiking shoe or sneaker is the best choice for the Camino, but some might not agree. And the most important thing is that you’re wearing a shoe that fits well and doesn’t cause blisters. If you have a pair of hiking boots that you love and are well broken-in then they may be your best option for the Camino.

I had to buy several pair of shoes before I settled on the winner, but since finding my “glass slipper” of shoes, I’ve never gone back. I just bought my fourth pair of Keen Voyageurs, and I think I’ll probably continue to buy this shoe as long as the company continues to make them. I have a pretty wide foot so it can be a frustrating process to find a shoe that fits, but my Keens do the job beautifully. Plus, the shoe looks like it’s meant for a long hike, which I like.

Break on the Norte, Camino de Santiago

One last note: you might need to consider whether you want a waterproof shoe, or rather one that is just water-resistant (which mine are). My experience- so far- is that I haven’t had to walk in many days of steady rain, so I haven’t missed having a waterproof shoe. There was only one day when my shoes/socks/feet were utterly soaked from the day’s walk, and I suspect that even a waterproof shoe might not have kept my feet totally dry in that much rain. A waterproof shoe will take much longer to dry out if it does get very wet, and it will also trap more heat than a water-resistant shoe (again, the potential for blisters). That being said, I’ll soon be walking for a week in the north of England, which has the potential for lots of rain, so I might have an update after that trip.

You’ll also need a second pair of shoes, for the afternoons and evenings after you’ve finished walking. Because my trips have always been in the summertime, I just squeeze a light and thin pair of flip flops in my pack. I wear them in the shower and then around the albergue and they’ve been fine. Others opt to bring a pair of Crocs: also lightweight, but bulkier. The benefit of these is that on chilly evenings you can wear them with a pair of socks and your feet won’t get cold.

Socks

I bring three pairs of either Smartwool or Darn Tough socks. Three pairs is a good number; you don’t need anymore as long as you keep up with the wash, and any less gets a bit risky if you’ve had a day or two of rain and don’t have enough time for the socks to dry out.

Some people like to wear sock liners (a thin layer that goes under the hiking sock); they add some warmth and also can protect your feet from blisters. I’ve worn them on training hikes and didn’t really like how they felt, so I’ve always opted to not bring them on my Camino. (They may indeed help prevent blisters, but I’ve found that coating my feet in a thin layer of Vaseline works just as well).

socks drying, camino de santiago

Pants

This is my magic combo for a summer Camino: one pair of long, zip-off pants. One pair of shorts. One pair of lightweight, loungy pants to wear in the evening and to sleep in. I like hiking pants/shorts with pockets (useful for carrying tissues/cell phone/spare change), but I’ve also worn a pair of athletic shorts without pockets, and those have worked out fine.

Some people bring rain pants, though I’ve always been fine without them. (Note: I do have a pair that I’m bringing for my upcoming Hadrian’s Wall walk, so I think it’s wise to have this extra piece of rain gear if you’re walking in a particularly wet time of the year).

And if you’re walking in the colder months, you might want to think about bringing a base layer (basically a pair of long underwear), to layer for warmth.

Relaxing on the Camino de Santiago

Camino lounge style

Underwear

Three pairs. Honestly, any kind will be fine; I didn’t get ‘fancy’ until my second Camino, when I bought myself a few pairs of Ex Officio underwear. It dries extremely quickly so I’m a big fan, but I also did just fine with my regular ol’ underwear on my first Camino. Buying all of this gear starts to add up, so I decided that underwear was a splurge that I would hold off on.

Shirts

On every Camino I’ve brought two short-sleeved, quick-drying t-shirts. I usually refresh these each year (they’re pretty cheap and sometimes I’m not convinced that I can completely get the smell out after a trek across Spain), so I like to have fresh shirts. REI and EMS have lots of options, but I’ve also worn t-shirts that I’ve found in Target. If you have a little extra to spend, you could consider a Smartwool shirt: odor resistant, doesn’t itch, comfortable, keeps you warm, keeps you cool… they sound great. They’re also $$ but I think it could be a nice investment. I actually just bought a long-sleeved Smartwool shirt for my England trip, and already I like it a lot.

And speaking of long-sleeved shirts, you should bring one (even in the summer!). On my first Camino I didn’t wear the long-sleeved shirt much, but I was glad I had it. On other Camino’s I’ve worn it much more.

I also bring a lightweight, soft cotton t-shirt to wear in the evenings and to sleep in.

Sports Bra

I bring two, and any kind will do.

Outerwear

For the summer it’s ideal to bring a lightweight fleece; I found a good one on sale from Patagonia a few years ago. There are lots of options out there, but know that you don’t have to get something bulky. For a summer Camino, look for a fleece with a rating of 100-weight (this will be lightweight, highly breathable, and works great as a layering piece). The higher this number gets, the heavier and warmer the fleece will be; 200-weight is probably also a nice option, certainly for a spring or fall Camino.

You will need to bring either a rain jacket or a poncho; I’ve always opted for a rain jacket, but this is one of those Camino debates that will probably never be settled. A rain jacket will do the trick and keep most of the rain off of your arms and upper body, but the waterproof material traps heat and at times my arms have been so sweaty inside the jacket that I wondered if it was worth wearing it at all. A poncho sort of gets around this problem, plus the poncho can drape over your pack, as well. I’m going to stick with my Marmot Precip jacket because I really like it, but I think a poncho is a fine option.

Pilgrims on Dragonte route, Camino de Santiago

Poncho-wearing pilgrims

rain jacket, Camino de Santiago

Extras

I always carry a buff with me (which is basically a lightweight, stretchy tube of fabric). I don’t use it a ton, but it comes in handy to wear around my neck on really hot and sunny days (dipped in cold water makes it even better!). It can be a headband and provide extra warmth, too, or worn to keep sweat out of my eyes and the hair out of my face on windy days.

I always bring a ball-cap with me, also to keep the sun off of my face. Many people bring sunglasses too.

Pilgrim, Camino del Norte

Recap:

-hiking shoes
-flip flops
-3 pairs socks
-1 pair long, zip-off pant
-1 pair hiking shorts
-loungy pants
-3 pairs underwear
-2 sports bras
-2 quick-dry t-shirts
-1 cotton t-shirt
-1 long-sleeved shirt
-lightweight fleece
-rain jacket
-buff
-ball-cap

That’s it! There are always other options and some people bring more, some even bring less. If you’re walking in colder months then it’s wise to bring a warm hat, gloves, a coat. Some people use gaiters for the rain. Some bring a bathing suit. Some women bring hiking skirts, or a casual skirt/dress for evenings or to wear to church.

For me, one of the best parts of the Camino is that I never have to think about what I’m going to wear. I don’t have to make decisions, I don’t have to worry if I’m going to be over or under dressed, and as long as I’ve made wise packing decisions, I have just enough but not more than enough.

Now it’s time to celebrate spring and get out on a walk. I’ve just bought myself yet another pair of Camino/hiking/trekking shoes, and I need to start breaking them in.

packing list for the Camino de Santiago, Keens hiking shoes

My fourth pair of Camino shoes!

What’s your packing list for the Camino de Santiago like? Is there a must-have item that I’m missing? A “luxury” item you manage to squeeze in? Something on this list that you’d leave behind? Please share, I always love knowing what other pilgrims have in their packs!

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