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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.

Video: Camino Aragonés Pt 2

January 26, 2021

If you missed part one, click here to watch the first part of my journey on the Camino Aragonés.

After those first 5-days (beginning in France, walking up a mountain in the rain, crossing into Spain and descending into a completely different landscape), I’m now in the small village of Santa Cilia and on my way to Arrés, where a famed albergue awaits me.

The theme of this second half of the Aragonés was definitely the heat. Much of Europe was experiencing a heat wave in late June 2019, and I walked some of my hottest days to date. The temperature reached 40ºC/105ºF on several days, and much of the time the path ran through an open, treeless landscape. This made for some early starts to beat the heat, even some pre-sunrise walking.

The end of the Aragonés- in Puente La Reina- was only the end of that particular path, and not the end of my walking that summer. I finished the Aragonés and caught a bus heading north, where I hoped the air would be cooler.

Here are the stages and links to places I stayed for the five days this video covered:

Day 6: Santa Cilia to Arrés, 10.2km
Albergue de peregrinos de Arrés (*this is a must-stay albergue!)

Day 7: Arrés to Ruesta, 28.4km
Albergue de Ruesta. (*very good albergue)

Day 8: Ruesta to Sangüesa, 22km
Albergue de peregrinos de Sangüesa

Day 9: Sangüesa to Monreal, 27.2km
Albergue de peregrinos de Monreal

Day 10: Monreal to Puente La Reina, 30.6km
Albergue de los Padres Reparadores

And here’s the video! I hope you enjoy the adventure.

Becoming a YouTuber?

January 21, 2021

January tends to be a really creative time for me. It was the month when I first created this blog. The month when I hatched the idea for my e-book. The month I started a Patreon, the month I explored posting photographs on Shutterstock (that one never really took off, but it was fun to experiment with.)

This year, and this month, I’ve thrown myself into yet another new thing, and it’s been fun. I started making videos!

I know very little about YouTubing, I don’t even spend all that much time on YouTube. But recently- and probably due to really missing the Camino- I’ve started watching hiking videos. It started with my friend Alan’s videos of his trek across Japan, then I discovered Sara’s Camino journeys. And then another YouTube channel, and another.

I thought back to an idea I’d had after my 2019 walks on the Aragonés and the Norte. I’d taken short videos every day on those walks and posted them to Instagram stories. I’d had a lot of fun with it and had thought about stringing the videos together into something a little larger, more continuous. Not all of my friends and family were or are on Instagram (and I’d imagine some blog followers aren’t, either!), and many missed those videos. I thought it would be a fun thing to create and share.

So, 2020 turned to 2021, and the pandemic is still here, and the days are cold, the nights are long, and I decided to work on making an Aragonés video. I know I keep saying that making the video was fun, but I can’t think of a better word. It’s fun! I’ve made a few videos before- not really knowing anything about the process and figuring out iMovie by trial and error- but I’ve always really enjoyed the process. And this time was no different.

There’s so much still to learn, and a lot about the videos that I wish could be different. For starters, all of the vertical clips! (Instagram uses a vertical format for their stories, and so on that platform it made sense to use a vertical orientation. But for YouTube? Not so great!) And because I never really intended to make a video like this, I wish I had shot a lot more, I wish my narration was a little different, a little fuller.

But I can only work with what I have, and I loved sorting through the clips and stringing them together and finding music and choosing photographs and just… reliving it all. Watching my own progress, seeing how I grow more confident throughout the month, hearing the certainty in my voice, the joy.

I have one video completed and posted up on YouTube. Here it is! It’s the Part 1 of my walk on the Camino Aragonés, and Part 2 will be done soon. I’m also planning to put together some videos from the Norte as well. After that… well, I’ll have to go on another walk. I think- maybe?- this will be a new project for my next Camino, another way to capture and share the stories of my walks. I’m still going to take lots of photographs and write blog posts, but the videos feel like a very natural evolution. A different kind of picture, a different way to show you my pilgrimage.

I hope you enjoy this new little venture. If you like the first video, please subscribe to the YouTube channel! I’m certainly no expert on this, but it’s a way to be notified when more videos are posted, and it gives me a good sense of how many people are engaged and watching.

That’s the small update for now; more soon!

December Recap: Winter is Coming

December 31, 2020

It feels as though I was just writing my November recap post, and here I am again, at the end of another month, another year. At the time of writing, New Year’s Eve is tomorrow, and it’s going to be a quiet one. Fitting, of course, to have a quiet end to a very quiet year.

A few weeks ago I was trying to write a different blog post, one that could recap the year, but I struggled with it. I couldn’t quite seem to muster up enough enthusiasm to write about travel highlights, or the lessons from the failures and mishaps, or even just general highlights. Maybe I’ll manage to string some words together if the inspiration strikes, but for now, I’ll stick with recapping this past month and then wipe my hands of this year. Even if the first half of 2021 is more of the same, I’m eager to move into a time when at least the promise of brighter things are ahead. And it feels as though 2021 might just offer up that promise.

So, December! As we entered the month I couldn’t help but think back to 2019, when December was an all-around solid month and gave me a great deal of momentum to head into the new year. I visited my sister in Cleveland where we went to a rollicking live Christmas band and a festive house party, I drove up to Maine for a lightening fast visit to surprise a friend for her 40th birthday (and during the weekend managed to see another friend as well as the former owners of La Muse… and, maybe most importantly, my beloved Homer the dog). I ended the year in Maryland celebrating New Year’s with friends, and in-between managed to get out and about for other festive activities.

This year? You guessed it: no running off to any new places, no visiting friends afar, no leaving the state, no live bands, no holiday house tours, etc. Despite all the extra time at home this year, I’m still- on the whole- enjoying the extra peace and quiet. In the best of times I like to hunker down in the winter and stay in more than go out, and so on the whole it was a good month. But I do worry a little about the weeks/months ahead, looking down the long, dark stretch of winter, wondering if there will be a point when I’ll go stir crazy.

But for now? I’ll end this month and this year in the same way I spent most of it: at home. Writing at the kitchen table, with a glass of red wine (well, maybe champagne for the holiday), a book at my side, long walks through the neighborhood, greetings to my neighbors.

Those were all highlights of the past month, here are a few more:

Hiking

The two notable hikes of the month were at Stroud Preserve in Chester County, and the Mt Gretna loop trail in Lebanon County. I went to Stroud with my Camino friend/neighbor; we’ve vowed to continue to meet and hike all through the winter, regardless of how cold it might get. Our morning hike at Stroud was chilly but I was reminded of how quickly you can warm up once you get moving. It had been several years since I’d hiked the trails here, and was reminded of a steep hill that could be good Camino training. I’ll definitely go back.

And while I was home to see my parents for Christmas, I drove out to find some hiking trails and wound up doing nearly 6-miles through the forested trails of Mt Gretna. At the end of the hike I climbed up to the top of an observation tower (steel ladders all the way up!!), and I had 360 degree views. It felt good to explore something new, and it’s certainly a spot that would make for beautiful hiking in the spring and fall.

Zooming with friends

I’m tired of Zoom, and at the same time, greatly appreciate Zoom (or, any video-conferencing app). This month, a few of my traditional holiday hangouts with friends had to shift to virtual meet ups, and for as fatiguing as it can sometimes be to spend hours on a screen, I was so appreciative for each call. From a fondue/wine night to toasting to nearly 20-years of “Christmas dinners” with my high school pals, I am so grateful for strong and enduring friendships and the traditions they carry.

Snow!

It’s been awhile since my area has seen a good snowstorm (at least a couple of years), so to get a decent snowfall in December was something to celebrate. What I love more than fresh snow is fresh snow against a blue sky, and so I ran out with my camera to try to capture the magic. Here’s hoping for more snow this winter!

Reading/Watching

I read three novels this month: Writers and Lovers by Lily King, Transcendent Kingdom by Yaa Gyasi, and Rodham by Curtis Sittenfeld. Each was released in 2020, and I loved both Writers and Lovers and Rodham (each took me just a little bit to get into, but by the second half of both I was hooked), and liked Transcendent Kingdom.

And speaking of being hooked, I started watching Game of Thrones with my family over Christmas and now I can’t stop. I’m certainly late to the party on this one, and for the longest time just thought that the show wouldn’t be for me, but I was wrong. Now I know what I’ll be doing in January!

I also couldn’t stop watching Camino YouTube videos (here, and here); I keep adding more and more routes to my list!

Writing

This wasn’t my greatest month for writing; despite not being out and about nearly as much this December, there was still more to do and more distraction because of the holidays. It was hard to settle into a good writing routine (but I’m hopeful for January!). In addition to some work here and there on my book, I posted another essay up on Patreon (a site where you can support my writing/walking, with a new essay every month, just for my patrons! Subscribing starts at as little as $1/month). This one was about the early days of quarantine, childhood memories and the joy of naming things.

***

For as hard as this year has been, there’s so much I have to be grateful for. I was thinking about this as I spent Christmas with my family: a roof over our heads, plenty of (good!) food, board games and books and lots of warmth. I’m safe and healthy and even though it feels as though life is on pause, I trust that it will restart again, and I’m lucky to be able to sit here and make plans for when it does. And in the meantime, grateful for all of the connections with family and friends, for the ability to write my stories, to walk my path, to keep going despite it all.

A Happy New Year to all, may the days ahead be joyful and bright!

November Recap: Ringing bells and blazing sunsets and writing the book!

December 1, 2020

I’ve spent a lot of time in the past 8 months thinking about windows (though maybe not in the most traditional sense). Rather, I’ve been thinking about windows of time and how to ride the waves of this pandemic.

I was so fixated on this in the summer, trying to find the best window of time when it might be possible to travel. When restrictions would lift and case numbers would fall and when it might feel safe enough to venture out and take a trip, or when it might be okay to see family, and friends.

The fall has been like this too, and I think it’s why, in October, I took a few weekend trips and made an effort to get together with friends/family for hiking and coffee as much as possible (well, for me, an introvert through and through, “as much as possible” really means “on the weekends”, but I digress).

November started off strong, fall was still chugging along at full steam, the colors were never more vibrant, the sun was still shining, the air was warm enough for outdoor get togethers.

But all at once (or so it seems), we’ve reversed course. The fall/winter pandemic wave has descended, and even though I expected it, that doesn’t lessen the jolt of its arrival.

I canceled plans, work goes virtual in December (I work in a school and right now it’s only for a week but that could stretch into something much longer), the Thanksgiving table was small.

And yet, despite it all, November held a lot of good moments. I used to think that October was the most beautiful month of fall in the northeast (at least where I live), but in the past few years I’ve found November to be almost as good. And this year it felt as though fall stretched longer than ever- with crisp and sunny days, and the trees displaying a slow and long unfolding of color (are the Japanese maples always this spectacular in November? The reds never seemed so red!)

Here’s my roundup from November, maybe not as full as October’s, but nearly just as satisfying.

Hiking

Bryn Coed Preserve, Chester Springs, PA: My local Camino chapter gathered in early November (well, actually, it was the last day of October but it didn’t make it into last month’s roundup, so I’m including it here), to hike the trails in the Bryn Coed Preserve (which means “wooded hill” in Welsh). This preserve is part of the “Natural Lands”, a nonprofit organization in PA and southern New Jersey that aims to save outdoor spaces in order to connect people to the great outdoors. There are 16 preserves in the greater Philadelphia area and I’ve been to four of them so far; one of my winter hiking projects is to visit all 16! This was my last meet up for the foreseeable future with my Camino group; due to the rise in COVID cases, all of our scheduled group events have been canceled. Our group only started up again with organized hikes in early October, and I’m grateful I got to several of them while it lasted. Here’s hoping that late winter/spring will bring a return to the Philadelphia-area Camino group hikes!

This was the only notable hike of the month; I was scheduled to hike with my Camino group in Havre de Grace, MD, to see the bald eagles at the Conowingo Dam. I did this hike 2 or 3 years ago and it was spectacular, we saw dozens of bald eagles fishing in the Susquehanna and nesting in the trees; the hike was canceled this year but if travel restrictions are eased I might try to make it there sometime this season; eagle spotting is good between November and February.

Otherwise, it was a month full of my local walks. I zipped out to the Harvey Run Trail in the Brandywine valley several times (this is a small network of trails totaling about 5-miles that I discovered in the spring; there are wide open spaces, fields of wild flowers, hardly any people, and the trails wind past the studios of N.C. Wyeth and Andrew Wyeth. One of the bright spots of the pandemic was finding these paths!)

I also made an effort to hike down to my local wildlife preserve, the place I frequented in the spring when I was working from home (a quick ten-minute walk from where I live).

When visiting my parents for Thanksgiving, in Lancaster County, I walked in loops around the park at the top of the neighborhood. I’ve walked in that park so many times that it doesn’t feel notable, but then the light hits the fields just right and I raise my camera to take a photo and realize just how beautiful the landscape in this area of the state is.

Watching and Making and Listening

The best show I watched this month was The Queen’s Gambit, on Netflix. It was so wonderful! My initial thought was that a series about chess would be slow and a little dull, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. The fashion, the music, the characters, the drama… I highly recommend it!

Listening: this song.

The best thing I made this month was my annual Thanksgiving cheeseboard; no cooking or baking involved, just a bunch of cheese, meats, crackers and some fruit, throw it all together on a big tray, and voila! I love putting this together for my family every year, and even though our Thanksgiving was small, the food was plentiful and the company was good.

Writing

This month I did something to try to jump-start my writing: I attended a writing conference! It was an all-virtual event out of Philadelphia, two days of lectures and talks. A lot of it was geared towards writers who were in the final stages of their book writing, and ready to pitch an agent or go after a book deal. Even though I’m not quite there yet, I took a lot of notes and it was so helpful to visualize what the book publishing process would be like. It made it feel like, when I’m ready, I’ll know the steps to take to try to find an agent, what that relationship would be like, the steps to getting published, etc. It also helped me realize that I’m solidly in the “re-write” phase of my book, and that I need to stop hemming and hawing and just get working. I’ve already rewritten chunks of the book but the beginning and first half need a ton of work. But I’m encouraged, and- for the moment- more focused. It feels good!

My essay this month on Patreon is about a Camino date with an Italian man who gave me a necklace (it wasn’t really a date, but then again, on the Camino, it’s so easy to pull up a chair, sit with a stranger, have a drink, and drop into a deep and interesting conversation. It happens all the time, and I wish it were the sort of thing that could happen more in my real life!)

I also wrote a blog post about my summer road trip through the US, here it is in case you missed it.

Other highlights

Around 11am on November 7th, I heard a bell ringing bright and clear, it sounded like it was coming from the house next door. I thought for a moment, then leapt up and grabbed the bell that sits on my mantle. I raced outside and rang and rang, adding to the chorus going up through my neighborhood, all to announce the news: Joe Biden will be the next President of the United States! I knew that it could be (and I’m sure will be) a long two months until he is inaugurated, but in the moment I only felt joy and hope.

I’ve said it before and I’ll probably say it every year: are there any skies more beautiful than November skies? It can be frustrating to contend with the dwindling daylight hours, to race against the sun to get a post-work walk in, but so often I’m treated to the most stunning sunsets as I round the corner and head towards home:

When I think back on this month, more than anything it feels quiet and calm and still. I think that feeling is going to continue all winter as the pandemic forces me to retreat even more, to hunker down, to be cautious and safe. There will be hikes, bundled-up rendez-vous for coffee, hopefully some Christmas spirit sprinkled in, maybe another backyard fire with my parents, some freshly baked bread, a stack of good books, a few bottles of wine. It might not be an easy winter, but as ever, I’m going to keep my eyes opened to the beauty and the joy.

Hoping everyone is safe and healthy and finding your own moments of joy. More soon.