Nadine, Author at Nadine Walks

A Spring Camino!

March 31, 2022

I was thinking, today, that my blog has its seasons.

There’s a “cold season” and a “warm season”, and right now we’re emerging from the cold months into a warmer time and- like the grass and the petals and the buds all coming slowly back to life- so, too, will this blog.

Not a lot seems to happen around here in the winter months, nothing worth writing about on a walking blog, anyway. Or maybe it’s more that I’ve been trying to focus on other projects, and after years of writing posts about the Camino and walking, I don’t feel like I have a ton of new stuff to say, outside of the more travelogue style posts when I’m actually out on a long walk.

In any case, this blog has gone through quiet periods, but I’m back today because the air is warm and April is around the corner and so is a little break from work, and all of this means that I’ll be heading back out for another long walk!

Well, longish. I only have a week to walk but I decided to go big and fly over to Europe and walk some part of a Camino route. Months ago I researched route after route, trying to figure out where I might want to walk: what would be do-able in a week, a place that wouldn’t be too cold, a place that would have enough open and not be too expensive, a place I hadn’t walked before, etc, etc.

It seemed to hit me all at once: I could walk in Portugal!

I don’t think I’d initially considered Portugal for a short spring-break walk because I’d always planned on something much longer. I was set to fly to Portugal in June 2020, and walk from Lisbon up to Santiago. I had my flight and my guidebook and I was excited to explore a new country and a new Camino path, but, of course, COVID derailed those plans.

So I think I’ve always kept Portugal in my mind as a longer Camino that I’d just have to replan someday. But then I realized that I could walk the Coastal Portuguese from Porto and suddenly it all made so much sense! From Porto, there are two routes to Santiago: the coastal and the central. I’ve heard great things about both, and when I was originally planning my 2020 walk, I wasn’t sure what I’d decide to do when I reached Porto. But, with just a week to walk, it’s actually the perfect amount of time to do the entire coastal section of the Portuguese. I’ll start in Porto and I won’t reach Santiago, but it’s okay for this time around. When I have more time at my disposal, I can start down in Lisbon and try to walk all the way to Santiago. This time, with just a week, I’ll spend those days walking along the coast.

And so, it was decided! A spring Camino, my first one ever! Five years ago I did Hadrian’s Wall over my spring break, and while I suppose it’s a big trip for a short amount of time, I remember thinking as I walked that first day out of Newcastle that I’d made the best decision ever. That making the effort to get myself to a beautiful place where I could follow some way-markers and simplify my days into the soothing routine of walk-eat-sleep-repeat was worth it, every time.

So that’s what I’ll do again, I’ll fly to Porto and my plan is to start walking immediately (will I regret this? Probably. But I always want to just start as quickly as possible), and I’ll find my first yellow arrow and then just keep following them and walk for as far as I can. I’ve planned some big stages- of course I have!- but the route is fairly flat and I’ve been walking all winter and at this stage, I think I’ll be able to handle the big stages. I’ve reserved most of my beds, too, because I’m just not sure how crowded things will be around the Easter holidays, or just how many albergues will be re-opened after/during this COVID time, or just how many pilgrims will be on the path.

The plans are made, as well as I can make them, and I’m still not totally convinced that this trip will go off without a hitch (I need a negative COVID test to enter Portugal, and I’ve been working in a school where masks are now optional and hardly anyone wears one anymore, and germs are flying around, and, well, COVID has made travel feel a lot different, a lot more uncertain). But I hope that all will go well and smoothly, and that- soon- I can be walking again.

And even though this is a short trip, I’m starting to get all of my pre-Camino jitters, the same as ever, even though at this point I should know better. But yet, I worry anyway. My new shoes don’t feel quite broken in, they don’t feel as comfortable as my last pair- are they rubbing against my toes? Will they cause blisters? Will there be rain in the forecast, should I pack my rain pants? (I ask myself this every single time.) I’m walking in the spring, do I need to bring an extra layer? I just bought myself a fanny pack/waist pack but I haven’t yet hiked wearing it AND my pack and will I like it or be annoyed by wearing something extra around my waist? Do I bring my nice camera?

On and on the questions go but there’s a joy in asking myself these pre-journey questions, the same ones every time, it means that I’m heading off across an ocean and following a path, I’m heading off on a journey. This is something I love, something that makes me feel so solid and good, something that makes me feel alive. Alive! It’s spring and I can feel myself emerging from my winter cocoon, ready to take my first steps down a new path.

Stay tuned.

Yellow arrow and cobblestone in Porto, Camino Portuguese

(Photo from 2019, when I spent a few days in Porto following my Camino del Norte)

Day 11 on the Camino Primitivo, Lavacolla to Santiago, 10km

October 31, 2021

Day 11 on the Camino Primitivo YouTube Video

I started the morning early, with a vending machine café con leche from the albergue kitchen (Camino rule: never pass up an opportunity for coffee first thing in the morning!). I headed out in the dark, leaving before sunrise, though the sky began to lighten soon after I started walking. This last stage was quick- just 10km- and easy, too. Other pilgrims were on the way but not too many, and despite the short distance, I could feel myself wanting to move faster and faster, wanting to speed up my arrival to the city and to the cathedral. Arriving in Santiago is always exciting!

And then there I was, navigating through the city, walking under the arch and into the plaza and standing beneath the great cathedral. Santiago de Compostela, I’d arrived once more! My next order of business was to find another cup of coffee and why does it seem to be so difficult to find an open bar in Santiago in the morning hours? I went to a place not far from the cathedral after wandering around for 20 minutes, one of the only open places I could find. I ordered- you guessed it!- a café con leche and some breakfast and while I was standing at the bar, waiting to order, a pilgrim who’d just walked from Tui on the Camino Portugués struck up a conversation with me. He joined me at my table, and before long a friend of his arrived as well. We only sat together for about 20 minutes but even in that short amount of time, I felt as though I had several more pilgrim friends. We exchanged contact info, Anne said- “If you’re ever in Porto, please let me know!”

I walked back to the square and settled down, my back against a stone column, my face turned up towards the sun, my feet pointing to the cathedral, and a pilgrim from Lithuania walked by. I caught his eye and we smiled and he raised his fist in the air, in victory. He took a seat near me and we both sat there in the sun, letting Santiago sink in.

Later I saw a Spanish pilgrim. “Team Primitivo!” he exclaimed, after saying how happy he was to see me in the city. There were others I didn’t see, but even these few encounters warmed my heart, reminded me that even as I go my own way and often stay alone, I’m truly never alone out here. And then, onto my hotel, a little place in this city that I know, the place where I always stay (if I can get a bed!), and I love that I have a place here, a tiny room with a single bed and wooden desk and shared bathrooms on the half-floors with maybe some of the best views in the city.

And then lunch down the street, this central but quiet street in Santiago, and I arrive just as a table is clearing and the owner is so kind- really, everyone has been so kind here- and I sit back with a glass of Ribeiro and watch as the pigeons peck at crumbs on the ground, and listen to the voices in the streets and feel so grateful, so content, so happy to be back here.

Day 10 on the Camino Primitivo, Boente to Lavacolla, 38km

October 10, 2021

Day 10 on the Camino Primitivo YouTube Video

Sometimes birthdays on the road are wonderful and magical, and sometimes they’re a little tough. My day 10 on the Camino Primitivo was an all-around not super great Camino day, and I suppose if it hadn’t been my birthday I wouldn’t have thought much of it, just chalking it up to the so-so days you have sometimes. But a birthday adds a certain kind of pressure, and today just didn’t give me the ingredients for a magical day.

For starters, I’m now on the Francés, and it is the weekend, and it is August. And let me tell you, it was the pilgrim superhighway! I know to expect a lot of pilgrims in the final stretch leading up to Santiago, and in some ways I think it’s kind of magical: here are hundreds and hundreds of people, all of us with our packs and our sticks and we’re marching along in a line, moving in the same direction, all of us from all over the world, heading to Santiago. It’s pretty cool. But for someone who likes to walk alone and loves having an open path all to myself, this influx of pilgrims was a lot! I’d never seen anything like it, and while it’s been awhile since I’ve walked this path into Santiago, I can’t quite believe how many more pilgrims there were on the way. From the quiet Primitivo to this: groups of friends, and students, and families, and just… people- it was overwhelming.

But I had a nice and quiet morning, I suppose the day started almost perfectly. Up and walking in the dark blue before dawn, one kilometer and then two and then an open bar. I was the only one there, with a huge cup of coffee and and a croissant, and just as I was finishing, Claudia and Jean Paul walked up, two pilgrims I’d met several days before. And, a few minutes later, the two Spanish pilgrims from my albergue last night. We all smiled and waved and chatted, and then I continued on, and for awhile the path was still quiet.

Then, the circus of the late morning and early afternoon, but I made the best of it: stopping again for a tortilla and a cortado, and then, again, for a beer and a small bowl of chips. There was a point when the path of the Camino veered off to the right, but the mass of pilgrims all continued straight: they were walking into O Pedrouzo, I was continuing on for another 10 kilometers to Lavacolla. And just like that, most of the pilgrims were gone, and I was walking under the trees with the path to myself.

And then it rained, light at first, and then harder, and it wasn’t ideal but when it rains on the Camino there’s nothing to really do except keep on walking. And so I did.

I arrived, wet and a little cold, to the albergue in Lavacolla. It was a fine enough place: a big bunk room but with decent space between the bunks, and a beautiful and well-equipped kitchen. Right as I entered I saw a pilgrim I’d met in Ferreira, and she was fine but not quite my cup of tea. She told me how the only shops in town were closed because it was Sunday, but then raved about the great lunch she’d just eaten at the restaurant down the road, and even how the owners had given her a ride back because it was raining. I could feel my stomach start to rumble: it was nearly 4pm, I’d walked nearly 40 kilometers, and while I’d stopped several times throughout the day, I’d never had a proper lunch. It would be too late for lunch now, but I figured I would shower and then maybe set off to explore and see if I could find a place that might be serving food.

I headed back out around 6, after a quick search on my phone revealed that the restaurant down the road would serve food at all hours. A pilgrim miracle! It wasn’t raining when I set out but it was gray and chilly. I walked and walked and when I arrived at the restaurant, I was greeted with a frown, a hostess pointing to a large sign. I needed to prove I was vaccinated in order to enter the restaurant, and of course, I’d left my vaccination card back at the albergue! (This was one of the two times I needed to prove vaccination to enter an establishment; I was walking through Galicia at a time this summer when it was required, but those regulations changed shortly after.) The hostess shrugged, pointed to a table under a canvas tent, and told me that the kitchen couldn’t serve me food until 8pm.

So I sat at a table outside and zipped my fleece up, tucking my hands into the sleeves to warm my fingers, and ordered a glass of wine. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do- two hours would be a long time to wait outside- but I figured I’d have a glass of wine, then walk back to the albergue, pick up my vaccination card, and then walk back to the restaurant for dinner. But just as my wine was delivered to my table, the skies opened up and it began to pour.

I sat, huddled and alone at a table outside because I was the pilgrim who didn’t have proof of vaccination, and wondered what I was going to do. It was then that I started to feel a little sorry for myself, to feel sorry that it was my birthday, and that I was close to Santiago but all alone, tired and hungry, staring out at the rain.

And then the hostess brought me a menu, and told me I could order food. Someone inside that restaurant must have looked out and taken pity on me, or maybe it’s just that the Camino provides, because I was able to order food and I was able to eat, and it was what I needed.

I still had to walk back to my albergue in the rain, but it didn’t matter: once I got back I changed into the only clean and dry clothes I had left, I managed to find the hospitalera so I could ask for a blanket, I chatted with a few French pilgrims, and crawled into bed, warm and dry, with a full stomach.

Some Camino days are “off” Camino days, but at the end of it I tried to remember how grateful I was to be able to be walking at all. Plus, I was just 10km away from Santiago! Bright days ahead.

Next Post: Day 11 on the Camino Primitivo

Day 9 on the Camino Primitivo, Ferreira to Boente, 25km

October 3, 2021

Day 9 on the Camino Primitivo YouTube Video

25km today, and now, of course, my body feels strong and maybe those Camino legs have really kicked in because the kilometers were easy and so of course I felt like I could have walked longer. I did my thing of walking fast and stopping a lot: for coffee, for an Aquarius, for photos, for peering into churches.

There was a stretch with a long, stony path, bordered by green pine trees and tufts of purple heather and what remained of a gray stone wall and this path seemed to go on and on, under a big sky, with Melide in the distance, clouds and sun and no one there but me. I loved it! I’d walked it before- I must have, back in 2015- but I couldn’t remember it at all. As I walked, I thought about how beautiful it was, how I felt as though I would never forget it, and wondered what I’d been thinking about when I walked it 6 years before. Why hadn’t it stuck in my memory? What had been my mood that day? Were my eyes focused on the ground, was the sky dark and stormy, was I walking with someone else? I might not have remembered this part of the Camino the first time I walked but this time, it made an impression. In Melide the Primitivo would merge with the Frances, and so these were the very last kilometers on the Primitive Way. I tried to soak them up, I tried to imprint the path onto my memories. Maybe I did.

And then I arrived in Melide and I was surrounded by new and unknown pilgrims. This happens every time! I should be used to it!! But we’re all pilgrims and I told myself I only have a few days left until I reach Santiago, I can deal with a few more pilgrims on the path. But it makes me think of just how special the Primitivo is- every year and especially this year. What a special, special walk.

I passed through Melide, pausing for a glass of wine with a pilgrim I’d met that morning, then I continued on. I intended to get something to eat but I was flustered by the city so I just started walking, and then another 5km flashed by and I was at my albergue (Albergue El Alemán, Boente). I’d made a reservation just two days before; I’d been nervous about all the pilgrims on the last 100km of the Frances and reports that finding beds in this stretch was really difficult (especially considering I was now walking in the height of the summer), but luckily I had no trouble finding places to sleep. I think it helped that I was staying “off stage” (off of the typical Brierley guidebook stages, anyway), but in any case, I was pleased to not have to stress about where I would sleep.

And this albergue was great! It had been recommended to me by my lovely host back in Vilar de Cas, and everything was just as promised: a beer garden with outdoor picnic tables under a large awning, a tiny restaurant/bar area with some basic pilgrim supplies, even a small pool to dip tired feet into! As I arrived, two pilgrims I’d met the night before were finishing lunch, and they invited me to their table and I ordered my own meal: a big salad, fish and roasted potatoes, cold melon for dessert. Those friends both continued on, and in the end there were only 5 pilgrims- including myself- in the albergue, and incredibly, four of us had been on the Primitivo! Even though I was technically now on the Francés, it felt as though I’d extended the Camino Primitivo by a few more kilometers.

Somehow I managed to eat more food for dinner just a short while later, after giving my feet a long soak in the pool. After eating every last bite of my big bowl of pasta (not only have my Camino legs kicked in, it appears that the Camino hunger has kicked in as well!), I finished the day with a stroll through the quiet streets of the village.

But the real ending was a small commotion I made in the bunk room of the albergue as I was preparing to go to bed. While trying to close the blinds of the window across from my bunk, I accidentally pulled the entire thing down and it fell with a crash. A Spanish pilgrim came over to see what the noise was and together we managed to get the blinds back in place, but there were little plastic pieces, broken, on the floor. I gathered them up in my hand and the pilgrim said- “Destroy the evidence!” and the hospitaleros had already turned in for the night and I couldn’t tell them about the window. So if you stay at the Albergue in Boente and the window shade falls down in the night, it is not a ghost!! It was just me.

Next Post: Day 10 on the Camino Primitivo

Day 8 on the Camino Primitivo, Lugo to Ferreira, 26.5km (+3km detour)

September 29, 2021

Day 8 on the Camino Primitivo YouTube Video

My day started in what is- for me- the best possible way: a large and creamy mug of coffee and some sort of bready and slightly sweet pastry in an charming old café in the main square of a Spanish city. The sun hadn’t yet risen but the sky was beginning to lighten, the streets were quiet, the espresso machine whirled and there was one other woman in the café, tucked away in the corner. My pack propped against the wall, my shoes laced tight, the hot coffee and a day of walking ahead.

The highlight of today’s walk was detouring to see the Roman Temple in Santa Eulalia de Bóveda, just a couple kilometers off the path of the Camino. I’d only given a cursory glance at what I was going to see, and on the way there I sort of thought I was going to see an old church (I’m going to blame it on the Camino and being in a new place everyday and never quite remembering where you’ve been or where you’re going). I arrived, figured out how to find the tourist office (this makes the place seem like some bustling city… it’s not. It’s a super tiny, deserted village with some houses and a church, and this little room that acts as the tourist information center). Luckily I arrived during their open hours, and I knocked on the door and a woman appeared and said something and of course I was confused and I went to try to find the temple (you’d think it would be obvious- but really, this was a very small, nondescript Spanish village, much like so many others I had seen before. The fact that an ancient temple was tucked away somewhere here was pretty amazing!) and finally I realized it was behind a locked door and I had to wait for the woman with the key.

She opened a door, led me down some steps, and I walked into a dark space and was blown away. This 3rd century Roman temple was only discovered in the 1940’s, and it’s so tucked away (underneath the church!) it’s incredible that it’s there at all, and that I somehow managed to find my way there. And I felt lucky to get to see it- I needed to have known about it, I needed to walk a few kilometers off the Camino, the tourism office needed to be open and staffed, all of it seemed to need to come together to get to be in this pretty special spot.

The rest of the walk felt good, the time passed quickly. It was an overcast day, and cool. There were no services for most of the walk, not until a bar about 7km before the end of the stage, and while I was taking a break there I saw several pilgrims I knew- Kinka was eating a sandwich, Andre walked by with his friends. An American and an Italian came up after I’d arrived and we started talking and just like that, it felt as though I had new friends! The Primitivo has felt really special, and I’m not sure if it’s just a particularly nice batch of pilgrims, or if it’s the unique nature of walking this year. Maybe both. I’ve said this before but the connections happen fast- you can chat with a pilgrim for 15 minutes at a rest stop, see them again in your albergue, and be laughing like you’re old friends.

And that’s exactly what happened: Simone, the Italian, was staying in the same albergue as I was, and we checked in at the same time, got settled into our bunks, took turns taking a shower, and then whiled away the rest of the afternoon in the lounge of the albergue. It had grown cold outside, and stormy, and I was wearing every layer I’d brought with me, but it was warm in the albergue and once again, I’d found another great place: the Albergue Ponte Ferreira, owned by a wonderful Dutch couple, who greeted pilgrims with small mugs of mint tea and an incredible homemade dinner. We all filed into the large dining room when it was dinner time- there were 6 of us- and were treated to a crisp salad with avocado, big slices of cheesy quiche, pasta with a hearty meat sauce, bowls of vanilla ice cream with slivers of banana and a dollop of whipped cream. And wine and bread (of course!). Simone and I laughed and joked and it was like we were old friends, though we had just met earlier in the day, and once again I was with a new group but we were all, mostly, new to each other and it seemed like I was able to fit in easily.

I fell asleep quickly, in my bunk in the corner of the room, under a freshly washed blanket (not all albergues were providing blankets during COVID, but this one was- you just had to request it!). A satisfying walk, a nourishing meal, the easy connection of fellow pilgrims, the knowledge that my Primitivo was nearing its finish, wrapped up and warm in my bed, safe and sound.

Next Post: Day 9 on the Camino Primitivo

Day 7 on the Camino Primitivo, Vilar de Cas to Lugo, 15km

September 21, 2021

Day 7 on the Camino Primitivo YouTube Video

By Day 7 on the Primitivo, I knew I needed a break. Those first 6 days that I’d walked were not easy stages, and each day had seemed to hold some significant ups and downs. I love walking big days, but I could feel how tired my body was. So instead of another big stage, I decided to walk a straightforward 15km into Lugo, where I could rest and explore the city and- try- to take it easy.

I’d had a great night’s sleep in the beautiful albergue in Vilar de Cas, and because I knew I was walking a short day, I took my time in the morning. I lingered over breakfast- toast and coffee and fresh orange juice and a big slice of cake (there’s a name for this- the slightly sweet cake that’s often served at breakfast- but I can’t remember it!) and I sat again at a table outside, and the German girls joined me and then left, and once again, I lingered. I finished breakfast, I packed up the rest of my things, I took pictures and videos of the albergue, I wandered back to the bar area to pay my bill, and Mer was there! She’d already walked 5km that morning, and as she drank down her coffee and ate her cake, she told me that she was in a hurry to get to Lugo so she could make it in time for a city tour.

She left before me, for some reason I was still lingering. Eventually I grabbed my walking stick, said goodbye to my hosts and waved to the villagers and walked out of the village. It was such a wonderful place, and I thought about it as I walked: how safe and taken care of I’d felt there. I was a pilgrim and just passing through, I couldn’t speak the language of my hosts or the villagers, and yet, I felt included. I felt like I was part of something there, that I was seen, that I had a place at the table.

The 15km passed quickly; I tried to slow my pace but I was energized and I walked strong all the way into Lugo. I’d been through here before, on my first Primitivo in 2015, but I never really saw the city back then. I’d moved through it quickly, not wanting to be in a crowded place, wanting to be somewhere quiet. This time, I was arriving at 11am and I had the entire day in front of me. I stopped for a coffee and sat in the shadows of the city walls, and then I walked up onto those Roman walls, a 2km+ path that circles the city. It was incredible, and over and over I asked myself- “how could I have missed this the first time I was here?”

I checked into my hotel room and it was perfect. I’d gotten a recommendation from my hospitalero for a place called Hotel España, a small room with a single bed and a private bathroom with a view of the city walls for only 25 euros! Pilgrim luxury. I’d been walking for a week at this point, staying in albergues, and even though I’d had some rooms all to myself, it was a treat to have a very private space and my own bathroom. I emptied my pack and reorganized my things, took a shower with the hotel’s shampoo and soap (and towel!), washed my clothes and found wire hangers in the wardrobe and hung the clothes from the window so they could dry in the breeze.

Once the chores were done I went back out into the city for lunch. I found a narrow cobblestoned street in the old city with a cluster of restaurants lining the sidewalk, with tables under umbrellas, and settled in at one of them. I ordered a menu del dia: ham croquetas, salmon with salad, quince and cheese, a basket of bread and a glass of white wine. While I ate, a small bird landed on the chair across from me, chirping as I sipped my wine. The German girls walked past, and we smiled and waved at each other.

It was 3pm and I had the rest of the afternoon and evening and a beautiful city to explore, but I decided to head back to hotel for a little siesta. I stretched out on the bed, thinking I might relax for an hour or so, but one hour turned to two, to three, and I knew that what I needed more than anything was rest.

I’d walked a lot in this first week on the Camino. Possibly too much, although in many ways, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. I’d reserved most of my lodging before I left for Spain which is something I typically wouldn’t do, but with the uncertainty of a COVID year and reduced capacity in albergues, I wanted to be safe and assure myself of a place to sleep at night. And when I was planning, I told myself that the long days would be fine, and good. And they were fine, and good, and I loved the people I met and I loved the challenge of the hard days, but there on that bed in Lugo, with the breeze blowing back the curtains and spinning my t-shirt on its hanger, the thick stone of those Roman walls so close I could almost touch them, I decided to slow down. My original plan had me walking several more long days, and I’d already shortened the day’s stage by stopping in Lugo, but I decided to tack on an extra stage, and stretch out my Primitivo by one more day. I suppose that I did it all backwards: walking long days on the most difficult stages, shorter days on the easier days into Santiago. But it felt right, so I didn’t question it. I mapped out a new plan in my journal, sent a couple of emails to see about reserving beds in albergues, and felt settled about the decision.

And I gave myself a quiet night: a quick walk to the nearest grocery store, a packaged salad and a hunk of bread and a cold beer, cookies for dessert. The Olympics on TV, the open window, my laundry and soft white towels and my little nest in the shadows of an ancient city wall. Resting after a week on the Camino, ready for whatever the next week might hold.

Next Post: Day 8 on the Camino Primitivo

Day 6 on the Primitivo, A Fonsagrada to Vilar de Cas, 38km

September 16, 2021

Day 6 on the Primitivo YouTube Video

Another big day, 38 kilometers, and as ever I climbed and climbed and for some reason I thought that there was a point where the Primitivo gets easier. Maybe it’s tomorrow, when I finally have a short stage. Probably. Hopefully. Maybe.

But today felt good, even if my feet hurt a little and I can feel that my legs are tired. So I’ll walk my short and easier stage tomorrow and take a rest. But as for today, I pushed on, walking with the fog as it lifted to reveal blue skies. I stood in line with the locals in the dim blue morning to wait for the town bar to open so I could buy a fresh croissant to eat as I walked, and it was the freshest, most delicious croissant I could ever remember eating. I wonder, is there anything much better than this? To be biting into the soft and warm center of a croissant and brushing the crumbs from my lips as I walk with my stick tucked under my arm, my arms and legs cool in the morning air, light bleeding out from the horizon with the promise of a clear day?

I passed by my favorite tree- I have a favorite tree on the Primitivo! I took a photo of it 6 years ago and it’s one of my favorite photos from any Camino, and I got a huge black and white print of it to hang on my living room wall and so every single morning I sit on my couch and drink coffee and look at that tree. And now, walking down the same path, I come to the tree again, and I know it instantly, and the morning has that same atmosphere and I want to stay there for a long, long time, staring at my tree. Eventually I moved on, up to a ridge under the huge windmills, their blades slicing the air, and passed by an old pilgrim’s hostel and an ancient dolmen and I thought maybe I heard voices up there, whispering.

I found a donativo rest stop with fresh coffee and big slices of watermelon, and I sipped my coffee on a cushioned seat overlooking the mountains, and met some new pilgrims. And then, coming down the path and sailing along was Mer, the pilgrim I cooked dinner with at the haunted monastery in Cornellana back on Day 1. It had been 5 days since I’d seen her but it felt like weeks, and she paused at the donativo spot and I said her name and she stared at me as though she couldn’t quite believe her eyes. “What are you doing here!?” she cried, and I laughed, because I think we both thought we’d never see each other again.

More walking, a sandwich in a deserted square in O Cadavo, and a late afternoon beer in Castroverde to help power me through the last kilometers to Vilar de Cas.

My albergue here- Albergue A Pociña de Muñiz– is the nicest albergue I’ve ever stayed in, almost too nice for the pilgrim life. I wish I had arrived earlier so I could enjoy the garden or rest in a hammock, but instead I buy another beer and an old man in a red sweater rides up on an electric bike and says- “You’re the American! You will be my English teacher.” He must have heard of my arrival in this small, small village, a place where surely, news travels fast. So I sit and talk, and the village abuela comes by and frowns when she sees that I’m not eating anything, and then the only other pilgrim staying in this place comes over, too. Eric, from France, and he tells me he has quit his corporate job and is starting a business as a fengshui consultant, and asks me what I would do if I could do anything. After I answer (“walk, and write, and take pictures” I tell him), he asks why I’m not doing this. His questions are maybe just the right kind, the kind that make me squirm because I know they are getting to the heart of the matter, the things I grapple with, the questions I ask myself but am often afraid to answer.

And then, dinner. Eric returns to the albergue to cook in the kitchen but I’ve taken advantage of the meal that my hosts will cook, and it is the best dinner yet, all homemade with local and fresh ingredients and my hosts bring out more and more, the food never ends: a smooth vegetable soup and two pieces of empanada and then a burger and fries and eggs (a plate so big and full that I think I can’t possibly eat it all but then I proceed to finish nearly every last bite), and wine and bread and then quince jelly and cheese (my new favorite!). In the middle of this feast two new pilgrims arrive, hobbling in, exhausted, asking with a hint of desperation if they can still eat dinner. They sit at my table and are brought out dishes of food and we talk, and they are polite, but they are focused on the food, and a shower, and a bed.

And so I stay with them and then continue to sit at the table after they leave, long after, lingering and watching the sun sink to the horizon, and then bottles of difestifs and little shot glasses are placed down in front of me and my host and the villagers who have gathered at the bar are all laughing as I drink the strong shots, the liquid burning past my tongue and down my throat and spreading warmth through my body. It is good, all so good, the whole day and the whole night, every step.

Next Post: Day 7 on the Camino Primitivo

Release of ‘A Single Step’ Ebook!

September 12, 2021

Taking a quick break from Primitivo posts (more coming this week, so stay tuned!) to share a little book of essays that I’ve just released!

The collection is called ‘A Single Step; Stories of Walking and Wandering’ and it’s available as a PDF Digital Download. 73 pages of walking and travel stories (and photos, too)! Lots of good Camino stuff, but there are also reflections on the pandemic, a glimpse into my study abroad year in Toulouse when I was 20, a road trip adventure, and more.

I’d been working on these essays over the last year, and sharing one a month over on Patreon (a site where you can support my writing/travel stories). Patrons have already had access to many of these essays, and received a free digital copy of the book. But I wanted to make it available more widely as well, and I’m pleased to be able to share it with you today!

I started out just writing somewhat randomly about my travels and my long walks, but I noticed that certain themes were emerging: coming of age and growing older and growing up. Finding confidence, comfort in my own skin. Searching for a place in the world.

If you’ve been a longtime follower (or even recent follower), if you’ve enjoyed my posts and stories about my long walks, then I think you will enjoy these essays. I’ve set a suggested price of $8.00 for the book, but it was important to me to make these essays financially accessible, so there’s a ‘pay what you wish’ option, which lets you choose any price $1.00 or up. And any price is okay! The goal is for these essays to find their way to the readers who might enjoy them, and I think some of you here are part of that audience.

Writing these essays was (mostly) fun. A year ago I was heading into a school year filled with so many unknowns, so much tension and anxiety, so many challenges and I knew that it could be really easy to lose focus and to lose the discipline of a writing practice. I set a very modest goal of writing one essay a month and mostly stuck to it, and I’m happy with some of the words I put together in that time. I look through these essays and am so grateful for the traveling and adventures I’ve been able to have, and I can see how there is still so much room to continue to challenge myself, so many places to explore, more paths to walk, more growing up to do.

Here’s the link for access to the book, if this seems like something you’re interested in, I hope you’ll take a look!

Day 5 on the Camino Primitivo, La Mesa to A Fonsagrada, 40km

September 8, 2021

Day 5 on the Primitivo YouTube Video

I walked far today, from La Mesa to A Fonsagrada, just over 40km. It had all been part of my initial plan and I really like walking long days but I kind of forgot that the Primitivo is not an easy route. I was so focused on Hospitales that I told myself the rest of the way would be easier and, well, there are still ups and downs! Lots of them!

But the beginning of the day, especially from La Mesa to the reservoir about 5km before Grandas de Salime, was nothing short of magical. After breakfast in the restaurant at the albergue I started walking, with the sun rising at my back. André- the young pilgrim from Portugal- was the only other walker out on the road and for awhile I could keep my eye on him, far ahead on the hillside. He was keeping pace with a group of bicyclers who were having trouble with the steep hill and I had to laugh, wondering if André would eventually outpace them.

Then they all crested the hill and I lost sight of them and it was just me and my long shadow and I walked. The air was cool and the light was soft and the Camino moved off of the road and onto a path through the fields. I felt high above everything- maybe not quite the heights of Hospitales the day before, but still surrounded by mountains and rolling valleys. My favorite spot of the day was just before the path begins its descent down towards the reservoir- I turned a corner and arrived at a little stone chapel (Chapel of Santa Marina de Buspol). There was a field of cows, their bells ringing and clanging, a wildflower-strewn path, streaking clouds and patches of sunlight on the mountains in the distance.

The path of the Camino descends for quite awhile and then skirts around the reservoir before it climbs back up on the other side. Right at the start of the long (and paved) climb is a little hotel/bar that I remembered stopping at back in 2015. It was open and the terrace views were just as good as they were 6 years ago, and the café cortado and tortilla (my first of the trip!) even better.

But then I entered into the part of the day that felt hard. It wasn’t just the walking- though that was at times tough and I could feel that I was dragging- it was the mental aspect, too. I regretted, just a little, doubling a stage and moving away from all of my friends. I know this is what happens on a Camino when you walk a short day or a long day, and I tried to remind myself that I always run into people unexpectedly here (that a Camino goodbye isn’t always a true goodbye), but I felt wistful as I walked past the albergue in Castro where many of the others would be staying. I’d walked 20km at this point, and there wasn’t another lodging option until A Fonsagrada, another 20km away (which was where I was headed). The albergue in Castro was a nice-looking stone building overlooking a field of cows, at the corner of a very small and quiet village and it all seemed so peaceful, so relaxing. I could picture it: showering and doing my pilgrim chores and then grabbing a beer at the attached bar and settling in at a table for the rest of the afternoon, greeting my friends one by one as they walked up.

I could picture it, and yet, it wasn’t even noon. I thought about sitting around for the rest of the afternoon and I could feel myself grow restless, my feet itching to keep moving. Did I make the right choice by walking an additional 20km to A Fonsagrada and losing the friends I’d made over the first four days? Is there ever a right Camino decision? All I know is that I paused at the albergue, and then I kept walking.

I took a long break on a bench at the church in Penafuente, pulling out all of my snacks and eating as much as I could to give myself some energy. I was only 5km past Castro and still had 15km to go and for the next 10km I really had to push myself, but- as ever- one foot in front of the other. Over and over.

In Barbeitos I found an open bar and ordered a beer and peeled off my shoes and socks and then André walked up. I’d last seen him back in Castro, sitting at the bar attached to the albergue, and assumed he would be staying there for the night. He sat at my table and told me that the night before he’d had a dream, urging him to walk a long day, and so here he was!

We had such a good, long, ‘Camino-esque’ conversation; Andre has walked the Camino before, too, and we talked about what brings us back, what feelings we hope to find, how to find those feelings at home. I lost track of time, realizing with a jolt that it was nearly 6pm and I still had 5km to walk- maybe one of my latest Camino days yet! I said goodbye to André but as I walked realized that it didn’t matter so much that I would be arriving in town so late in the evening. I had a bed reserved, I didn’t need to do much more than shower and find some food, and so I settled into those last kilometers, gliding through (until that cruel, cruel uphill into town).

André had caught up with me and we walked to the albergue together, and it was another nice place: Albergue-Pensión Cantábrico, where I had my own little bunk room plus a fresh towel! Such pilgrim luxury. And then, to continue with the luxury, I went out in search of dinner and found a place where I was tempted by the amazing menu and ordered the “special” pilgrim’s menu which had four courses- caldo gallego soup and a round dish of pulpo and some sort of succulent-melt-in-your-mouth meat and fries and of course bread and a bottle of wine. I ate as much as I could and when I was asked what I wanted for dessert all I could manage was a little cup of espresso but it was perfect.

In walking such a long stage it felt as though I had launched myself into another Camino, with a different group of people, leaving behind nearly everyone else I had met. But the unexpected conversation with André reminded me that we never know what we will find on the Camino, and that one goodbye may lead to a new hello, that new experiences are also waiting to be discovered.

Next Post: Day 6 on the Camino Primitivo

Day 4 on the Camino Primitivo, Samblismo to La Mesa, 28km

September 6, 2021

YouTube Video Day 4 on the Camino Primitivo

Hospitales Day!

We woke up to a breakfast of toast and yogurt and coffee and one by one left the albergue to head into the mountains. I walked this route six years ago, but it felt like such a different Camino then, for so many reasons. And the day I walked Hospitales back then, the weather had been bad: foggy and misty the whole way up the mountain, we couldn’t see anything. But today? Today was glorious. You could argue that I could have had nicer weather; the morning was mostly overcast, so I didn’t get blue sky and sunshine (not until the afternoon). But I had the views, and it was incredible what was up there all along.

This is when the memories really came flooding back, too, from that first walk on the Primitivo in 2015. It was on the Hospitales day that year that I made my three Camino friends, the little family I stuck with for a few days. That time with them- “the kids”, I call them, because they were all in their early 20s- was really special. And it was at the top of the Hospitales route, when I was huffing and puffing up the final big hill, that Nicolas emerged through the fog, sitting on a rock and eating an orange.

This year, as I made that same climb, I could see more clearly to the top, and I could see Nicolas’ rock. I was stronger this time, still a little out of breath as I climbed the hill but my legs felt solid. I’d moved just ahead of Giuseppe and Rudolph and Antonio during the climb and so it was just me at the top, in the wind and the clouds, next to the Nicolas rock and I looked down and I convinced myself that the curl of an orange rind would be here, half hidden in the grass. I looked for it, I looked for the evidence that I had been here before but I suppose the evidence, if we’re lucky, is all in our heads. It’s in the remembering, the recognition of a rock, the whiff of an orange rind on the wind.

My sentimental notions didn’t last long; Rudolf was close behind and he joined me at this little summit and we cheered and laughed because it was so beautiful there. “Most of the climbing is done?” Rudolph asked. “Really? That wasn’t as bad as I feared.” He paused, and reached down deep into a pocket of his bag and pulled out a beer, still a little cold. “You don’t happen to have a cup with you, do you?”

Why yes, in fact, I did! He cracked open the beer and poured some into my camping cup and we toasted, clinking the can and my cup together, a little beer sloshing over the sides, and we cheered and drank deeply and then stood in silence, looking out over the mountains, the clouds rolling below us, the vista stretching and stretching. Soon Giuseppe was here, and then Antonio, and for those moments it was me with my three new friends, triumphant and happy.

One by one we left our celebratory spot, I was the last to leave. I lingered behind, and then- mostly keeping Rudolph in sight- followed more slowly behind. I took my time that day. Sometimes it feels like I’m racing through my days on the Camino and I never actually am… I’m just walking fast, because that’s my pace, and when I’m feeling strong I just naturally settle into a quick and steady rhythm. But walking the Hospitales route, I deliberately slowed myself down, because I needed more time to take in all that was around me, and to just absorb being back here. Rudolph and I flip-flopped as we made our way across the ridge, pausing to take photos and videos and comment on the cows, the little purple flowers.

Just before the path begins it’s somewhat treacherous rocky descent, we all joined up again at a little rest spot with picnic tables, and that’s where we met Kelsey, a young American woman. She’d started her Camino in Oviedo but a few days before I had; she’d recently had trouble with tendinitis and hadn’t taken the Hospitales route because of it (our rest stop was about where the Hospitales and Allende paths meet up).

I could tell that Kelsey was excited to meet another solo American woman, and I suspected that she wanted to walk with me, but I hesitated. Readers of the blog will know that I’m rather intent and protective of my solo walking time, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to spend some of this beautiful stage walking and talking with someone new, getting to know them. I let Kelsey go on ahead with the others, but eventually I caught up, and I think there’s a Camino lesson in here for me. Kelsey and I walked together for the next hour or two, and while I didn’t get to quietly take in my beautiful surroundings as much as I wished, or sink deep into my own thoughts and memories, the time with Kelsey was good. She was still figuring out the Camino, figuring out who she was on the Camino, and it was kind of beautiful to witness this. She’d spent some time with other pilgrims who hadn’t been very encouraging, who’d passed judgment on the way she was walking, and I realized that I had the opportunity to be the very opposite. I could be positive, and open and welcoming. I could walk with her for a few hours, and in those few hours, could be her friend.

And then we arrived in Berducedo and we stopped to have a drink and it turned into the most beautiful afternoon of pilgrim community. I have to say, after my experience on this stage in 2015 and again this time six years later, I think there must be some sort of magic in these hills. Giuseppe and Antonio and Rudolph were already at the bar, and one by one, other pilgrims that I’d met in the last few days walked up. Karl from La Espina, and André from Cornellana, and then Kinka from Cornellana and then we were this big group, and I was introducing people and we were all smiling and drinking beer and wine and sitting back in our chairs, feet stretched out in the sun, a long and beautiful stage completed, nothing left to be done but eat and drink and be with new friends.

Next Post: Day 5 on the Camino Primitivo

Day 3 on the Camino Primitivo, La Espina to Samblismo, 29km

September 2, 2021

YouTube Video: Day 3 on the Primitivo

I’m settling in, I think. I walked about 28km today and felt good, though I’m tired now (almost 7pm and waiting for dinner) The weather today was almost cool, and I needed to put on my fleece every time I stopped for a break. But I’ve moved into the countryside, full of rolling hills and green forest tunnels and cows and horses and wildflowers. There was road walking, too, there almost always is, but as long as it’s not all day I really don’t mind. I think of this stage as the one where the Primitivo starts to get really, really beautiful. Particularly on the stretch just outside of Tineo, as you move slowly up to a ridge that overlooks a green valley, with views that stretch on and on. It’s just a taste of what is to come! Plus, somewhere in this section, I found a suitable walking stick, which is always a cause for celebration. A Camino is not complete until I’ve found a walking stick!

I also found another monastery. This one was just a slight diversion from the path, in Obona (Monasterio Santa María La Real de Obona), and even more abandoned than the last one (pilgrims can’t sleep here, and that’s probably a good thing, though this time there were no ghost encounters). But as luck would have it, just as I arrived, there was a small group of people who’d pulled up in a car, and one of the men had keys to get inside! He gestured to me to come in to have a look around, and so of course I did. I’m not sure how active the monastery is, if at all, because while there were pews set up in the church, everything was dusty and full of cobwebs. But how incredible to get a chance to see inside!

About 4km before my evening destination I stopped in Campiello for a snack, which ended up being a beer and an empanada. Giuseppe- the man that I met on my first day of walking- was at a table with an Italian woman, and I pulled up a chair to join them and it felt so good to have these sort of Camino encounters again. Easy, welcome, relaxed. The beer and the food went down easy, too, and I sat for longer than I needed to, just soaking it all in, enjoying exactly where I was. Storm clouds were gathering in the distance and moving closer by the minute so I packed back up for the final kilometers, feeling revived and strong.

Really strong. My pace was fast and I must have looked awfully determined because I was stopped twice by locals making sure I knew where I was going and that I wasn’t about to attempt to walk the Hospitals route. I wasn’t- the rugged and wild and isolated Hospitales route would be for the next day, a 24km stretch without any towns or services. I assured both of the men that I was stopping in Samblismo and they relaxed and nodded but I thought to myself- ‘it’s 4pm! Of course I’m not heading off into the hills!’ But maybe I looked so determined, so sure, marching so solidly towards those green mountains that they needed to make sure that I knew where I was going, that I was going to be okay.

Before I knew it I was at the Albergue de Samblismo. Most pilgrims stay back in Campiello (where I had my beer/empanada break), or 3km further in Borres. There are albergues in both villages, but I’d read about a great albergue just 1km past Borres, and right at the Hospitales/Allende split. When I walked the Camino Primitivo back in 2015 I stayed in Campiello and it was fine; there’s a good bar/restaurant and a couple shops there, so it’s easy to stock up for the Hospitales route the next day. This time, I picked up what I needed for the next day when I passed through and continued to Samblismo. The albergue here isn’t part of a village, it’s just a building up in the hills, with incredible views and such a peaceful and quiet vibe. The hospitalero, Javi, is kind and gentle and prepares a communal meal for all the pilgrims. The COVID measures were great here- the albergue has five dorm rooms, most of them with just one or two bunk beds, but unless you were traveling as a pair or in a group, he only puts one pilgrim per room. So I had my own little room, and we all wore our masks inside and we spaced out at the dining room table for our meal.

And what a meal! Vegetable soup and a huge tray of paella and creamy pudding with poached peaches, wine and bread. The air was cool outside and we were bundled up at the table eating hot soup and once again I was with some new pilgrims, just three others: Giuseppe was there, but also Rudolph from Slovakia, and Antonio from Spain. Except for the pair of Spanish friends in the albergue in La Espina the night before, every pilgrim I’d met and shared albergue space with was traveling alone and this felt a little unusual. I always meet other solo pilgrims, but never this many, and there were several who had walked the Camino before, too.

Most of our dinner conversation centered around the route the next day, and almost an obsession over what the weather was going to do. “We’re going to get some sun,” I said, “I know it.” The forecast in the early morning wasn’t great, but Javi thought that the clouds would clear by late morning, and I hoped he was right. When I last walked Hospitales, I was in the fog and clouds for most of the way. It was an incredible atmosphere but there were no views, and I could only just make out the path in front of me. The Hospitales stages is considered one of the most beautiful stages of any Camino, and back in 2015 I told myself that one day, I would come back to walk the Camino again, to try for better weather for this stage. I kept my promise, and now I was back, hoping against hope for good weather the next day.

Next Post: Day 4 on the Primitivo

Day 2 on the Camino Primitivo, Cornellana to La Espina, 20km

August 31, 2021

I think there was a ghost in the monastery last night- and I don’t say that lightly. Really, I’m wondering. I was sleeping in what is basically an abandoned 11th century monastery (Albergue del monasterio de San Salvador)- there are rooms for pilgrims but the hospitaleros leave for the night to sleep somewhere else. There are no monks, no one- just the pilgrims who happened to walk there that day. I fell asleep quickly- there was one other pilgrim in my room and she was tending to her blistered feet and I thought I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep until she was done and the lights were off but as soon as my head hit the pillow I was out. Out, until hours later when a really loud noise woke me up. It was like crashing or banging, there was one sound, then another… a little later another. So loud, so jolting.

The sound wasn’t in my room but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Not the room behind me, where Mer was sleeping, but maybe the room further down the corridor, where André was? But it sounded like it was coming from somewhere above, which made me wonder- what, exactly, was up there making that sound?

I was spooked. Like- I wasn’t going to get out of bed for anything. And it was then, wide awake in the middle of the night that I remembered reading about a possible ghost encounter here, so the next day, in the middle of my walk when I couldn’t shake the strange feeling I’d had the night before, I searched on the Camino forum and found the post and it was indeed a ghost experience at the albergue in Cornellana. Here’s the excerpt of the post (and here’s the link to the thread in the forum):

“CORNELLANA: well, this is one of its kind. We went there upon the recommendation of a fellow pilgrim. Also, I like monasteries, so I stay there whenever I can. The building has character, dorms are beautiful and clean, there is a nice historical feel to the place, the kitchen is big and very well equipped… the only catch is that the monastery is actually derelict and abandoned. Not even the hospitalero sleeps there. It just happened that that night my partner and I were the only two pilgrims to check in. Initially we thought that was great news: a little peace at last! No snoring As time passed, our mood changed from excited to uneasy… to uncomfortable… to get me out of here! We were woken up by unusual noises during the night coming from upstairs, where the monks used to live. Several times. The next day, I shared my experience with the hospitalera at the next albergue where we stopped, and she told me this is not the first time she’s heard of unusual things happening in Cornellana. She told me a few stories that sent chills to my spine. Bottom line: if you are a solo pilgrim, please consider staying somewhere else, unless you are seeking a paranormal experience (which, by the way, is not guaranteed. Many people stayed in Cornellana and felt/heard nothing, so I was told). If you are with friends, know that you may have a peaceful night or an unusual night, and make your choice. The albergue itself is very well kept, with a beautiful courtyard where you can chill and dry your clothes.”

This description from a past pilgrim matched pretty well with what I experienced, plus, when I asked the three other pilgrims staying with me about it, they all said that they hadn’t heard a thing! Hmm… my first Camino ghost, trying to tell me not to walk so far, and to take care of my feet??

So day two started off with spooky thoughts but settled into a pleasant day: 20 kilometers to La Espina, through a mostly forested path. I stopped for a coffee in Salas but everything seemed closed; I met an elderly man who wanted to talk about my pilgrimage but I couldn’t understand him, finally he said- “Can you speak French?” Why yes, yes I can! He was so happy and gave me the name of a place for the best coffee in town and I’d like to believe that it was. I sat there for a long time, savoring the coffee and the bocadillo, listening to the locals at the tables around me. Everyone seemed to know each other, coming and going, throwing back their coffee, gossiping (I like to imagine) about the happenings around town.

My pack still feels heavy but a little less heavy by the afternoon so maybe I’m starting to adjust? I’m staying in a great little albergue run by an Italian couple who took over right as COVID started (Albergue El Texu). But they’re navigating it all with the best attitude, and also the best food: a three course homemade dinner with ingredients from their garden (plus really, really good bread). We started with a vegetable soup that was followed by tuna steak and risotto, finished with big slices of chocolate cake and cups of espresso.

I met more pilgrims, different pilgrims, just four of us again tonight (and I get my own room!). Two friends from Spain- Bryan and Edgar, and a solo pilgrim from Austria- Karl, and we talked through dinner and into dessert and I mostly listened, but all the while continue to just marvel over how quickly connections can be made here. I’d arrived at the albergue before anyone else, and had been tucked away in my room when the others arrived and for some reason I felt a little nervous and shy to go downstairs to introduce myself. But all it takes is a few hours around the dinner table, a shared bottle of wine, stories from the day and glimpses into each others’ lives and how we got here and suddenly it was as though I had three new friends. We stayed up late- far too late for pilgrims- but I didn’t mind. I wanted to soak it all in: the walking, the clouds and the trees and the wind, the coffee stops and the locals in the villages and the new friends in the albergues. Soak it all in so I could carry it with me.

YouTube Video for Day 2 on the Camino Primitivo

Next Post: Day 3 on the Primitivo

Arriving in Oviedo and Day 1 on the Camino Primitivo

August 30, 2021

I’m back home from my 2021 Camino adventure! In some ways it all felt like a whirlwind- how can I be home already??- but in other ways my time on the Camino felt just right. Like just what I needed.

I thought I might be able to blog while I was on the walk, but it was about all I could do to post smaller updates to social media, try to go through the dozens and dozens of photos to select a few to share, and attempt to stay on top of the video I was taking. I fell behind on it all, but maybe that wasn’t a bad thing; enjoying the walk was the most important thing, and I think I did a good job of that.

Some of you may follow me on Instagram or on YouTube, so maybe have already seen these updates, but I wanted to transfer what I shared there over here to this blog. I thought I would attempt to do a day-to-day post of my walk this year, and share the photos and ‘travel log’ that I wrote each day, plus the corresponding video. And hopefully add in some extra details too! So, here we go!

July 21st: Travel to Oviedo, for the Camino Primitivo

It all felt a little jarring, to be on public transportation again, the first time since early 2020. I was sitting in the 30th Street station in Philadelphia, waiting for my train to Newark, thinking that already I’d traveled so far when I hadn’t even really left my city! But it felt adventurous in a different sort of way than ever before. A little more nerve-wracking too. I didn’t know how COVID would affect the travel OR the walk on the Camino, I didn’t even trust that I would be able to stay in Spain for as long as I planned. I told myself that I needed to head into this trip with flexibility and take things day by day. Have a plan, but be willing to change the plan if necessary.

But oh, even with the pre-trip nerves and the extra layer of uncertainty that a pandemic added to this trip, I was so excited. Excited to be on a train, excited to arrive super early to the airport and wait around for hours, excited to board the plane and to take off and be flying across the ocean again.

The travel went well; all I really needed to enter Spain- other than my passport- was a QR code that Spain required. I’d downloaded the app on my phone the day before I left for Spain, filled out the necessary info, and got my code. The app worked fine and they just scanned it when I got off the plane, and that was it! I was in Spain again!

But arrival is always overwhelming for me. I don’t sleep well on planes, and to suddenly be in another country, hearing an unfamiliar language, trying to navigate where to go… it truly DID feel like I’d forgotten how to do it all! I was flustered. I found a café and got a coffee and a sandwich for the bus ride, but I somehow ended up ordering a super expensive sandwich and I couldn’t remember the words for anything and I was tired but also just really happy to be there, with my first café con leche and the fancy ham and the jet lag. Then, after a lot of confusion, I figured out where I needed to go to get the airport shuttle to the bus station at the airport. From there I took a 6-hour bus ride to Oviedo (didn’t eat the sandwich on the bus because no one was eating anything and we were all masked and I wondered if maybe it was a new COVID rule). It was a lot of travel, hours and hours and hours, and it would have been easier to have spent a night in Madrid, but I just wanted to get to the Camino and start walking, just get there as fast as I could.

The evening in Oviedo was a whirlwind too, but a whirlwind in a good way. I got to the city and found an Orange store where I could buy a SIM card for my phone, and the woman who helped me was so kind and I walked away with a deal that got me a 28-day plan with a good amount of data that cost only a tad more than my airport sandwich (which I was STILL carrying around because I hadn’t gotten the chance to eat it yet). Then to my albergue- a new and private one just around the corner from the cathedral (La Hospederia Oviedo)- and I checked in and the women working there showed me around and told me that there was a vespers service with a pilgrim blessing starting in 30 minutes. I desperately needed a shower so I rushed through it, briefly met another pilgrim in the albergue and then raced outside, my hair still dripping, to try to find the chapel. I settled into a pew and listened to the nuns singing and despite being exhausted, despite being hungry, despite being overwhelmed with it all- the trains and planes and buses and shuttles and being back in Spain- I felt settled, I felt comforted. I felt like I belonged.

Travel log:

It will never cease to amaze me, that in one moment I can be home, and the next… just like that (in this case it took over 24 hours but time when you’re traveling always feels strange), just like that you can be in a totally different place. One day ago, or two, I was running around home and buying a new rain jacket and my mom was packing me a sandwich and my dad gave me coffee money, and then, a train here and a plane there, I’m in Spain. I forget how to do this. Do I remember how to do this? How to navigate a place, a language? How to recognize a street, how to spot the first scallop shell marker on the ground and nearly cry for joy. Then, truly, shed a tear or two in a church, a little chapel that I made it to just in time for a vespers service, my hair dripping from my shower, the instructions the hospitaleras gave me still ringing in my ears. I’d been traveling non stop and I needed to eat, and arrange my pack, and just get my bearings but this- being in a church and hearings the nuns singing, followed by a pilgrim’s blessing- this I could remember how to do. And this, sitting in a wooden pew, voices echoing off the thick stone walls, the smell of candles and incense, in a large city in northern Spain: this feels like belonging. And I haven’t even started the walking yet.

(PS: It might have been the last thing I did that day, but I finally ate my airport sandwich. And it was really good.)

July 23rd: Day One, Oviedo to Cornellana, 38km

I might have felt overwhelmed the evening before, but in the morning, those familiar Camino routines came back to me quickly: creep out of bed as silently as possible to not wake the other pilgrims in the room, change into my hiking clothes, brush my teeth, splash water on my face. There was a small kitchen in the albergue with instant coffee and toast, so I made myself a quick breakfast before I left for the day. While I was eating, one of the pilgrims in my room had gotten up and sat down at the table to have some coffee. He’d been walking on the Norte but had taken a train to Oviedo to switch to the Primitivo, because finding beds in albergues had been difficult. He asked me about my plan for the day, and had some opinions when I told him that I was planning to walk to Cornellana, 38ish kilometers away. “It seems like you’re doing this for some athletic reason,” he said. “You should be flexible with your plan,” he said. “38km is too long for a first day,” he said.

I’d been excited about my plan; I knew it would, indeed, be a lot for a first day, but then again, this wasn’t my first Camino. And I’d come into this Camino pretty fit, having recently traveled around the American Southwest where I’d done a lot of hiking. AND, there was a monastery I really wanted to stay in.

And, well, I just really wanted to walk. To walk and walk and walk.

I finished my toast, the last sip of coffee, and stood up from the table. I stuffed my things into my pack and laced up my shoes and said goodbye to the pilgrim and pushed his words from my head. Maybe 38km was too far to walk for a first day, but the only who gets to decide that is me.

It was raining, a little, when I left Oviedo, and normally I don’t like walking in the rain but this time I barely noticed because I was just so happy to be walking again. It all felt so familiar, but also as though it had been a long, long time since I’d been on a Camino. Much longer than just two years. As I moved away from the city I could feel myself starting to settle in, to remember what it was like to be on a Camino: to always be on the lookout for the yellow arrows, to get used to the weight of my pack against my back, to greet the cows in the fields, to hope to find an open bar for a late morning café con leche. To put one foot in front of the other, over and over and over, and know that I was moving myself a little closer- with each step- to Santiago.

Travel log:

It’s probably too soon to tell, but this Camino feels like “classic Camino.” Classic like… it’s quiet, with not many pilgrims on the way, but when you DO see another pilgrim you really notice them, and take the time to say hello. Classic in that you make a friend on the first day, someone to walk with for an hour or two, to stop with at a big outdoor terrace with a little hidden door that leads down to the river where you can cool your feet, and then a few steps up back to your table where there’s a fresh tortilla pincho on really great bread, and a small of cana of beer, the perfect size.

Classic in that you walk for a really long time, farther than you should for a first stage (39km!!), but arrive to an 11th century monastery where it’s just you and one other pilgrim who also walked the whole way from Oviedo. You’ve never spoken a word to each other but there you are, high-fiving in the courtyard, beneath the ancient stone. Classic in that you walk to a store together, and buy pasta and a few veggies and take it back to the albergue kitchen (which is open, not many are) and cook a meal and talk about the Camino and about how you got here. Classic in that two more pilgrims stumble in, and you share your food, and the hospitalera brings you small bottles of cider. Classic in that, somehow, you have a small blister from your too long but also just right day, in a place where you’ve never had one before. Classic that it rained on day one, but also that the sun shone, and the hydrangeas were beautiful and you met a nice cat and the villagers said ‘Buen Camino!’ and tried to help when you got turned around in Grado. Classic Camino, let’s hope there are more days like this ahead!

flowers in rain on day one of Camino Primitivo

YouTube video: Primitivo, Day One

Next Post: Day 2 on the Primitivo

It’s as if I’ve never done this before

July 20, 2021

The countdown is on and I’m heading back to Spain and I sit here in my apartment, with a glass of wine and a to-do list that is mostly checked off, and I wonder: was there ever a time that I could head off on a Camino and feel totally at ease?

Maybe. But maybe not. I always get nervous before these trips but this year it feels bigger. Because it is bigger, because I’m traveling internationally during a pandemic. But, also, there are all the regular pre-Camino worries and I suspect those will never go away, no matter how many times I do this, no matter if it’s been 2 years since I’ve been on a plane to cross the ocean, or 10 years, or 5 months.

In this case it’s been 2 years but it might as well have been 10 because I seem to forget how to do it all. The pile of things for my Camino pack- right now sitting on my desk, as a few freshly washed clothing items still need to dry- seems large. Really large. I keep adding more and more, and you’d think I’d know better, but it all feels essential! Or, it feels like I can handle it, like I can handle the extra weight: the neck pillow for the plane, the electric coil for morning coffee when there are no other options (this one I’m excited about. I feel like I’ve entered a new level of pilgrimage.) The face masks- essential. The rain pants- I never know whether to take these or not but they’ve been so wonderful in the past and the forecast for where I want to walk is calling for rain so into the pack they go!

Speaking of rain gear, I ran around today to buy a new rain jacket, because I discovered that my trusty white coat that I bought before my first Camino in 2014 is officially no longer waterproof. It took a downhill turn sometime in the last year (or two?) but I bought fancy detergent and rewaterproofing stuff from REI in an attempt to save the jacket, but of course I never actually used the jacket in this last month to see if it worked. A few YouTube searches later and I did an “immersion” test, followed by a “spray test” yesterday and the jacket failed spectacularly, both times. Water gets in and gets me wet, and this will not do for a projected 90% chance of rain for my first day’s walk in Spain. My old jacket was white, the new one is a rather bright blue. But I bought it in a hurry because what else is there to do? Lets see if it keeps me dry.

Walking in the rain on the Pennine Way, England

Goodbye, raincoat, you served me well

Have I trained enough? Will I remember how to order a tortilla? Will my feet swell, will I get blisters, will I find my way? Did I forget some essential item, like my towel, or my water bottle? Will I find a suitable walking stick once I start my walk? Will my knees hurt, even though they haven’t bothered me for several years? Am I going to be all alone?

That, maybe, is a big question, and a big unknown. I don’t know what the Camino is going to be like during COVID, even as I’ve been scouring the forum and the fb groups, even as I watch YouTube videos of pilgrims who are out there right now (here, and here, and here). I’m trying to go in with an open mind and a flexible attitude, with a Plan A and B and C, but even this is different. Usually, I go with an idea of which route I’m going to walk, and then I just… go. I probably have some notes of albergues I want to sleep in, or towns I want to stop in, but otherwise the plan is loose. I know my timeframe, I know approximately how long it will take to walk my chosen route, but then I just figure it out when I’m there.

This year, anything could happen. I’m reserving ahead. Part of me wanted to make every single reservation before I left for Spain (which would have been fine, but a lot!) but instead I’ve settled on the first 4 or 5 nights, along with a document outlining my likely stages and lodging options. I’m going to try private albergues for the first few nights, and see how it feels, with hopes that the reduced capacity of the lodgings (50% or 30% depending on the place) will make it feel less precarious and not crowded. After all of these months of COVID, I shudder a bit at those big, crowded albergues, the bunks close together (sometimes side by side, eek!) and the shut windows and the close air. While never ideal, I also never really minded it all that much, but this year is different.

And if I’m feeling uncomfortable with albergue life, I’m resolving to book private rooms, and most certainly will for part of the time anyway. But all of this thinking and researching and planning has taken time, and while it’s been sort of fun and has added to the anticipation, I’m now overthinking everything. Do you want to know how many times I’ve checked the weather app on my phone to see what the forecast is going to be like for Oviedo? No, I don’t think you want to know. It’s a little ridiculous.

I’ve been alone a lot during COVID, I recently took a long road trip to the southwest and it was wonderful and amazing but I was alone for that, too. I don’t mind being alone (readers of the blog know that I all but insist on walking alone!), but some of my happiest memories from the Camino are the days and the moments when I’m with someone, when I make a strong connection. I worry about how to do that, this time around. Have I completely lost practice, will I be too nervous, and if I stay in private rooms will I ever have anyone to eat dinner with?

All of this, and yet, a very solo pilgrimage appeals too. Honestly, just being out there and walking is the thing I want to do the most, it’s the thing I’ve dreamt about since March 2020, when I wasn’t sure when I would be able to get back to Europe. The fact that I can go at all this year feels like nothing short of a miracle, and I’m so very grateful.

What else do I need to do? Call my bank, make sure all the windows to my apartment are shut, find those leftover Euros from two years ago, maybe make a walking playlist, if I have time. But, really, I just need to take a deep breath, and remember the biggest lesson that the Camino has taught me: begin with a single step.

And so, very soon, I’ll take that first step, and I’ll be on my way. The Camino is calling, and I’m going back!

Emerging from Winter

March 15, 2021

What a winter this was! It’s not even technically spring yet, but I’m calling it anyway. We’ve been in the thick of the pandemic for a year and here in the US we’ve turned our clocks forward and daylight stretches past 7pm and the other day I sat on my porch in a patch of sunlight and I felt like I’d made it. Made it through this bleak winter.

And the winter was bleak. I started strong in January: with daily yoga and a break from wine and the creative energy from learning to make Camino videos and I felt really good. “A pandemic winter isn’t so bad!” I think I might have even told myself.

But then the days were cold and the daylight short and the weather bad. Work got tough, many days held more than I could carry. I continued to walk in circles, but all of those walks were local. I didn’t go anywhere- where was there to go? I hunkered down- which isn’t unusual for me, especially in the winter- but this time I kept my head down, too. I think of it a bit like a bad day on the Camino: when your legs are heavy and there’s a blister spreading across the bottom of your foot and every step hurts but it’s even more painful if you stop and so you just keep going. There’s no choice anyway, because you need to reach your destination and so you put your head down, start with a single step, and just keep moving.

That seems to be a bit how I moved my way through this winter: head down, carry on. Look up when the end is near.

There’s light ahead now, at least it feels that way. I’ve looked up, and the view looks a lot nicer ahead than behind. I’d like to think that this pandemic is retreating, that we’ve turned the tide and that- soon- life will feel open and safe again. Soon, soon.

I’m dreaming of future travel and long walks but, of course, nothing is certain. My hope is that I can eek out a few weeks in France towards the end of summer: a week at my writer’s retreat, a week or two walking in France (I could finally finish Le Chemin du Puy!) I would love to do more walking but so much is up in the air, and it’s hard to imagine being able to get on a plane by mid-June and fly to another country and walk without much of a plan. It almost feels hard to imagine that there was ever a time when I could do that! But I do think there’s a chance that things could shift quickly, and if France lets me in, I will likely go.

But what’s more realistic is that I will be able to safely travel around my own country. Considering I did a big road trip last summer, I think it’s going to feel even easier and a bit safer this summer, and so I’m tentatively looking at the southwest. I know, I know, a road trip through the southwest in the summer is probably not the wisest idea, but I have always wanted to see the Grand Canyon.

And, actually, a year or two ago I read about someone who hiked across the Grand Canyon, North Rim to South Rim, 24 miles… and I saw that some people even do it in a day and did I mention that the winter was bleak and I needed something to dream about? I wondered if a rim-to-rim day hike could be something to set my sights on. A challenge. Something to plan, something to train for. I missed that so much last year, not feeling the strength of my body like I do every summer on my long walks, and I knew I wanted to push myself somehow this year.

Stay tuned. I’ve made some reservations so that if I don’t fly off to Europe in June and I train properly and enough comes together, I just might attempt a Grand Canyon rim to rim hike. Just the thought of it feels adventurous, and that’s enough for now: the possibility of an adventure.

In other news, I’ve continued to post videos from my 2019 Caminos on YouTube; I just posted the last one and so now I’ve exhausted all of my footage. They were so much fun to make, and I can’t wait to see what I put together when I actually intend to create a longer video. If you haven’t watched them yet, please check them out! Here’s the link to my YouTube channel, and if you don’t want to miss out on future videos, make sure to subscribe AND click the ‘bell’ to be notified of new posts. I filmed a packing video a few weeks ago- it was only meant to be about 15 minutes but then of course was three times as long! I’m trying to edit it down but I guess I had a lot to say about packing for a Camino. Hopefully I’ll have that up in a week or two, and maybe more Camino-related videos as well. I don’t want these new-found video “skills” to get rusty!

In writing news, I’m still working on some shorter essays. I’ve been posting one a month on my Patreon page, my patrons there get exclusive access. These essays are also so much fun to write and to share, and I was thinking that I wished they had a larger audience. So I’ve been toying with putting together an e-book, a collection of these essays so that if you don’t want to sign on as a patron, you can do a one-time purchase of the book. I envision it as including many of the essays that having been going up on Patreon, but with a few more thrown in. My loose goal is to have a book like this pulled together in May… so stay tuned for this as well. (Saying it aloud also makes it real, so I guess I really have to get myself into gear and keep writing!)

That’s about all the news from my corner of the world. Made it through the winter, waiting for those first true signs of spring, walking and writing and dreaming of travel near and far. What’s the news where you are?

More soon.

January Recap: A Long Winter, In My Nest

January 31, 2021

Last month I read Curtis Sittenfeld’s Rodham (a fictional account of what might have happened to Hillary Clinton had she not married Bill), and in it the author describes how Hillary would create her ‘nest’ each night: burrowed into her bed, robe and tea, surrounded by blankets and pillows and a tower of books and notebooks. She would study here, read here, research here, plan here. I’m not sure whether this is actually true or not, but I like to think that it is, as I sit here in my own nest, my winter nest.

I’ve often talked of how I like to write in my kitchen, next to a little heater, my toes hooked around the rungs of an opposite chair. But sometimes, especially in the winter, I’ll retreat back to my bedroom as soon as the sun goes down. I spread out layers of blankets and prop myself up against a stack of pillows, make a mug of tea or hot chocolate or pour myself an icy glass of seltzer water, and settle in with my computer.

It feels warms here, hidden away in the back of my apartment, across from a window that faces nothing but trees. It’s where I am right now- a winter afternoon at the very end of January, where outside the snow has started falling (this could be a big storm!) and I’m here tucked away, with nowhere I need to go, nowhere I need to be.

Outside of my working and walking hours, this is probably where you could have found me this month, buried in my winter nest: tinkering away on my Camino videos, watching episodes of Game of Thrones and eating dark chocolate caramels. There are worse ways to spend a Pandemic January, for sure. In fact, in many ways, this month wasn’t all that bad. Certainly better than I’d expected it to be.

I could probably end this post right here, having already mentioned the main highlights of the month: making Camino videos, watching Game of Thrones. But here are a few more things!

Movement

I walked a lot this month. Maybe because it was the start of a new year and I felt recommitted to moving and walking and hiking. I squeezed in the walks where I could, nearly always a short one in the morning before work, a longer one after work, always walking with the sunrise and the sunset. These were the usual, neighborhood loops, and lately I’ve started to wonder what my neighbors must think of me. “There she goes again,” they might say. “The lady who walks.” But by now I’ve met a lot of these neighbors, and the small interactions always add a perk to my step. There’s Bill who walks in the sanctuary, who proudly told me that he recently celebrated his 90th birthday. And Steve, who was driving by and rolled down his window so we could chat about the vaccine, and the attack on the Capitol. And a new (to me) neighbor, who was heading down the street to check out a fallen tree (this is a somewhat common thing in my neighborhood), and who urged me to join the tennis club this summer. Mary, and Sue, and the man who jogs in a Santa hat, and all of the dogs who run over to greet me.

I met up with a few friends for quick walks and small hikes this month; the temperatures were cold, but it’s the only way I feel comfortable seeing anyone these days. And honestly? On a sunny day and with a brisk pace, the cold doesn’t bother me too much (and wearing a face mask helps!). I walked around Potts Meadow and past the Wyeth Studios on the Harvey Run Trail, and explored a quiet trail in Green Lane Park. Not adventurous stuff, but my local winter landscapes are full of such quiet, soft beauty.

I also started doing yoga again this month! I’ve never consistently practiced yoga, but there was a year or two (a rather long time ago, now) that I took some classes and practiced just a bit on my own. A friend has been doing Yoga With Adriene during the pandemic, and encouraged me to check out her month-long January ‘journey’, so I did. I made it halfway through the month and then stopped, but even just those two weeks were great. It reminded me that I have an awful lot of muscles that I don’t use much, that my body could really benefit from the stretching, that it’s a nice way to slow down in the evenings. I’d like to try to incorporate a bit of yoga into my days again, even just once or twice a week.

Creating

I didn’t do a ton of writing this month- my focus was on creating YouTube videos, more on that below- but I did manage to continue my habit of posting one personal-essay a month to my Patreon site (these are essays available only to my patrons, who pledge a dollar-amount per month). This month’s was about what it was like to walk through a heatwave on the Camino Aragonés. It was good timing for that essay, too, because it went along nicely with some of the footage in Pt 2 of my Camino Aragonés series on YouTube.

Ahh, the YouTube videos. I wrote about it here, and I know I said it in that post but I can’t help but say it again: making these videos has been a lot of fun. There’s something really energizing about learning a new skill, practicing, getting better, making something. I posted two videos that cover my walk on the Aragonés, and now I’ve moved on to working on footage from the Norte. I wish- so much- that I had taken more videos while I walked. But learning the process has been great, and it’s filling my head with ideas of the kinds of videos I might be able to make in the future. Now, I just have to be allowed back into Spain to actually go on another walk, and at this point who knows when that will be…

The Small Stuff, the Big Stuff

Game of Thrones is getting me through the winter. So is freshly baked bread, and London Fogs from a local coffee shop. Thick, warm, polar bear socks that I put on immediately after I come in from my walk. On so many days I wish I could be working from the safety of my home, but getting to work with some students in-person is revitalizing.

And then, the even bigger stuff: my grandmother turning 102. A new president. My first vaccine shot.

***

Some days feel hard, the cold is endless, the clouds are thick, summer seems a lifetime away and what will it be like then, anyway? Will it be another summer in the US, without a long walk, without a Camino, dreaming and dreaming of an open, safe world? Maybe. In the meantime, I’ll walk, and write, and edit videos, and eat caramels and sink into the world of Westeros, and carry on with my work, and drink hot tea, and hold onto moments of beauty wherever I can find them.