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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.

COVID Road-Tripping: what it was like to travel in the US during a pandemic

November 21, 2020

I was reading a post recently from a very successful travel blogger. I’ve never followed his blog but he gets mentioned a lot in the travel blogging industry, and I occasionally read a post or two of interest. Something led me to his site- I can’t even remember what- but the thing that caught my eye was a post on his experience traveling in the US during the pandemic.

He road-tripped this summer, mostly along the east coast, and his conclusion was that he probably wouldn’t do something like it again (not during a pandemic, anyway). There was some fear about catching the virus in places where cases were spiking, but overall, his assessment seemed to be based more on the closed attractions, not being able to be a last minute traveler, not getting the chance to interact with and meet people, feeling lonely.

These are all perfectly valid reasons to not have a great time on a trip, especially if the kind of travel you’re used to is flying by the seat of your pants, lots of interactions with locals, seeing the popular/major sites, etc.

But my initial reaction was to want to come to my own blog to write about my impressions of what it was like to travel the US during COVID-19, because so much of what I came away with was very different.

I wrote just one post about my road trip, and it was filled with imagery more than anything, and short on specific details. While my trip wasn’t perfect, while it wasn’t all I had once imagined it could be, while there are things I would have done differently… I had a really good time. And since I haven’t written much about this trip, I thought this would be a good time to talk about what it was like, and why I maybe had a much better time exploring the US this summer than this top travel blogger.

I think, in some part, it was about expectations. We’re in a pandemic, so just the decision to travel at all took a lot of time, and thought. I weighed it all: what was my risk, was it possible to travel and mitigate my risk based on my itinerary, my activities, my route? Should I travel alone, should I travel with others? Should I visit friends and family? When should I go?

Not everyone would make the same decisions that I did. Some wouldn’t have traveled at all, some would have done a smaller trip. Some would have done a bigger trip, or done things differently: hit the more famous National Parks, stopped in on friends.

But for me, it was about deciding what I was comfortable with, and then I let that guide how I was going to build my trip. I lowered my expectations. I let go of the idea that this (almost) cross-country trip would ever come close to what I had been imagining for so many years.

Because this trip has been a long time in the making. It goes back to when I was a kid, to when I read the Little House on the Prairie books and dreamed of what it would be like to cross the prairie in a covered wagon.

My image of this trip has grown larger and larger over the years, and it’s taken on many versions: the Little House pilgrimage, but also a tour of Major League ballparks, a tour of the National Parks, staying with friends and family as much as possible, hitting the most off-beat roadside attractions, eating a slice of pie in as many diners as possible.

There have been so many versions of the trip in my head that, even in non-pandemic times, I never would have been able to do it all.

But even in limited circumstances, I decided I wanted to give it a go, and see what I could see. I reduced it down to that: to a road trip, a chance to get in my car and drive for thousands of miles, and see where the road would take me. I would see what I could see.

I did some research, I planned out a route, I checked to see what might be open, I gave myself a theme. I might not be able to see a baseball game or visit friends on the West Coast or hike in the biggest National Parks, but I would do a Laura Ingalls Wilder pilgrimage, focusing on the mid-west.

This was a good plan. Aside from one small museum in De Smet, Little House stuff was open, the attractions were all there: the dugout on the banks of Plum Creek, the cluster of cottonwoods that Pa planted for the family, the surveyor’s house and schoolhouse in De Smet, Pa’s fiddle, Pa’s hand-dug well, Laura’s writing desk, a ride in a covered wagon. From Minnesota to South Dakota to Kansas to Missouri, I saw (almost) all.

My sister joined me for the first part of the trip, and most of the Little House stuff. I’d initially intended to do the trip alone, but having my sister with me for the beginning worked out perfectly. At the end of the trip, I stopped at the beach in North Carolina to spend a few more days with family, but otherwise, I stayed solo. I got so many messages and texts from friends as they saw my posts on social media, offering to meet up, offering me a place to stay. I was deeply touched by these invitations- some from friends that I’ve never even met before (a few a result of this blog!)- and if there wasn’t a pandemic raging I would have absolutely made the effort to visit people. But I made a rule for myself- only family- and this felt good.

It wasn’t an easy decision, but I think it made me feel more settled in doing a big road trip. COVID was always on my mind, but by staying mostly solo, I felt like I could keep my risk down (as well as not risk others!).

And despite being alone for a lot of the trip, I didn’t feel lonely. It helps that I like to travel solo, that I already have a lot of experience with it. And maybe, again, it was about expectations: I didn’t expect that I would meet people and make new friends (not that this couldn’t have happened, I just didn’t expect it), and so having a mostly solo trip didn’t disappoint me. I had some really nice interactions along my way, but it was no big deal to keep mostly to myself.

Baby bison in Wind Cave National Park — One of the “friends” I made along my journey!

Little House was the theme, but I incorporated other stuff, too: a couple of National Parks, Mount Rushmore and Devil’s Tower. The Field of Dreams movie site, Buddy Holly’s Crash site, a Frank Lloyd Wright house, hiking in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

There were a few things that were closed. The Surf Ballroom, for instance, the site of Buddy Holly’s last concert before his plane crash, was closed (despite the website saying it would be open). My sister and I would have loved to go in, but it was okay: we took pictures outside, had lunch on a bench with a view of Clear Lake, and then a beautiful drive through cornfields to find the crash site. The Frank Lloyd Wright house was closed, too, but this wasn’t even on our radar! We’d just been driving to our next destination and saw signs for Cedar Rock and decided to detour. We were still able to hike out to the property and stop by the visitor’s center and I think this was a highlight for both of us.

Maybe I had a really good time because I didn’t expect to be able to do it all. Maybe I had a really good time because the whole point was the road.

And oh, what a road!

Is the United States not the very best place in the world for a long road trip? You don’t need open attractions for a road trip. You just need a car that runs and eyes that are open to the wonder that’s all around. The pandemic doesn’t stop an eagle soaring through the sky, it doesn’t stop a sunrise from shining through the doorframe of an abandoned building. In my case, it didn’t stop me from drinking bad gas station coffee, or an ice-cold coke from a styrofoam cup, or a couple of beers on the porch of a little white cottage in Kansas. It didn’t stop me from hiking through the mountains or picking wildflowers or walking through tall prairie grass or seeing a field full of bison.

I wrote this reflection about one of my favorite moments of the trip, just after I’d say goodbye to my sister in Rapid City, SD, and continued on towards North Dakota:

“My sister heads home and I continue on, now just me in my little white car and the great stretch of open road. I’m in the very northwestern corner of the state and it seems like there is nothing up here, nothing but the subtly rolling land and I think that I can see forever. The window is down, the sun shines in through the passenger side and warms my right arm. Gas station coffee and Tom Petty’s ‘Wildflowers’ playing and there isn’t another car or person here but me. Then a fox in the field to my right, and five minutes later, soaring in the sky to my left, a bald eagle. I let out a great and loud cheer when I see the eagle and it feels incredible: there are eagles and foxes here? I see deer, maybe mule deer and one stands close to the road, with great big horns. A small one darts out in front of my car but passes to the other side unscathed. After miles and miles of nothing, a small building on the side of the road. A little country diner. I walk inside and the woman running the place asks what I want for breakfast. She goes in the back and fries up an egg, and some sausage, and toasts an English muffin and it might be the best sandwich I’ve ever had. I ask her about the fox and the eagle, still wondering if I’d imagined them, but she confirms that you can see them up here. “You can see a lot of things here,” she says, “if you look closely.” “

All told, I traveled a little over 6,000 miles in 21 days. My route: Pennsylvania -> Ohio -> Indiana -> Illinois -> Iowa -> Minnesota -> South Dakota -> North Dakota -> Montana -> Wyoming -> Nebraska -> Kansas -> Missouri -> Kentucky -> Tennessee -> North Carolina -> back home to Pennsylvania. A couple states- Illinois and Kentucky- I just passed through on the way to the next stop.

This map doesn’t show the exact route I took, but it’s pretty close.

With regards to COVID-19, overall, I felt relatively safe. I think the worst experience was towards the very beginning of the trip; after I picked up my sister in Cleveland, we did a big day of driving in order to move ourselves west. The plan was to drive through the rest of Ohio, then Indiana, Illinois, and well into Iowa before stopping for the night. I’d looked at the map and thought a nice place to stretch our legs would be Indiana Dunes National Park, which sits on stretch of shore along Lake Michigan. Our timing was bad: it was a Saturday and we arrived at the park around lunchtime. Everyone was out. It was a summer day during a pandemic and finding a green spot or, better yet, a little stretch of sand along a big lake was what everyone had in mind. Really, it was one of the only things to do! My sister and I headed towards the start of a small trail just as it started to rain, and it truly felt like there was a mass exodus of people leaving the beach. We weaved in and out of groups of people, dodging beach chairs and inflatables, trying out best to keep our distance. I would say the majority of people weren’t wearing masks. I remember that my sister and I looked at each other and wondered if this trip was a good idea.

It went uphill from there (quite literally, ha!). We found our trail and climbed up a long series of stairs and because the light rain had scared most people away, we had the trail mostly to ourselves. At the top we looked out over the lake to a hazy view of the Chicago skyline, then continued on the loop to get back to where we started. We had to walk for a short stretch on the beach, and this, too, felt harrowing: hundreds of people were crammed onto a tiny stretch of sand. Going from months of isolation to a scene like this was jolting.

This was the only time on my trip that I felt like I was around far too many people. A few other spots had a lot of people, but they never felt too bad. At Mount Rushmore, there was plenty of room for people to space out, and my sister and I quickly moved past where people were lingering and to the much more quiet and spacious Presidential Trail that loops around under the mountain sculpture. Wall Drug (in Wall, SD) is a huge general store/shopping/eating area, and while I don’t regret stopping, I think because of the pandemic I didn’t quite feel at ease. Too many people there for the free ice water and 5 cent coffee (myself included)!

But in general, I think the theme of my trip suited a pandemic: a pilgrimage to the prairie, walking and hiking in wide open spaces. It was difficult to not want to keep driving west, especially when I hit Montana/Wyoming, and I could feel- strongly- that I wanted to see the mountains. 5 more hours and I could have been in Yellowstone! But I decided to stick to smaller, lesser known parks, and it was a good decision.

A highlight of the trip was Theodore Roosevelt National Park. It’s a similar landscape to Badlands (maybe not quite as dramatic, but still so beautiful), but with far less people. At times I felt as though I had the park to myself!

I mostly stayed in hotels, along with a couple of Airbnbs (I’d planned to do some camping, but without a camp stove and after long days of driving, I often just wanted to find a cheap hotel and not have to worry about setting up a tent). I’d had a little worry over what it would be like to stay in hotels on this trip, but again, overall, it was fine. You could add an extra layer of caution by cleaning/wiping down surfaces in the hotel rooms yourself, but I never did. I’d say the biggest downside to staying in hotels during a pandemic is that most of the amenities weren’t available: namely, breakfast! It’s nice to be able to fuel up at the hotel before starting the day, saving both time and money. Some hotels that typically have breakfast available didn’t have anything to offer, most others handed out a brown bag with a piece of fruit, bottle of water, and a granola bar (Nature Valley, always Nature Valley!). It was something, but it certainly wasn’t a hot waffle.

Masks were another thing that were practically nonexistent. The further west I went, the less masks I saw. Most business owners wore them, but often I’d walk into a gas station being one of the only people wearing one. Even though this was back in July, it seems like not much has changed in some parts of the country with regards to mask-wearing. There are big stretches of the States where people don’t believe in the risk of COVID-19, or else don’t believe it will ever reach them.

Sometimes, I questioned whether I should be out there, traveling at all. Sitting here back at home, months later (and with the world still very much in the thick of this pandemic), I’m glad I decided to go. I tried to make smart decisions and stay careful and safe: washing hands, sanitizing, masks in public, takeout dinners back in my hotel rooms, solo hikes in the great outdoors.

I think about where we might be in summer 2021, and as much as I want to say that I’ll be in the middle of a Camino in Spain, followed up by a few weeks in the mountains of France… I’m not sure. I’m hopeful, but it’s too soon to say. What I do know, however, is that if I can’t travel to Europe or somewhere else further afield, there’s still so much more exploring to do in my own country.

I’m still dreaming of travel, but now- in addition to planning long walks in Europe- I’m adding more US road-tripping to my list: Rt 66 and the Southwest, the vineyards of Northern California, a rim-to-rim hike of the Grand Canyon.

But for the time being, I’m sitting tight. It’s time to ride out this next wave of the pandemic and stick to local explorations. But I do wonder what my next trip will be like, if it will be another masked and socially-distanced road trip, or if it might feel a little more like the summers I’m used to: walking down a long path in Europe. Is anyone else dreaming about trips in 2021? Where is the first place you’ll go when it feels safe enough to travel?

Sunrise hike in the Blue Ridge Mountains, NC

October Recap: Waterfalls and Scary Movies and Casting a Vote

October 30, 2020

There’s ragu simmering on the stovetop and I’m back to my regular spot at the kitchen table, beer in hand, the place where I sit to think and to write in the fall and winter months. Sometimes I think that I get my best writing done when the weather turns cool. Maybe it’s the shortening daylight (only 6:30 and already dark!), maybe it’s the desire to retreat, hunker down, put on my slippers and a long sweater and sink in.

And so, back to writing it is!

Despite not posting a ton of content here lately, I think about this blog a lot. I have dozens of ideas for posts, a whole bunch of drafts and half-written things, and dreams of a grand return to blogging. At one point I was tempted to challenge myself to write a post every day for a month (who knows, it could still happen!)

In the meantime, we’ll start here, with a monthly recap. It’s my intention to start doing this every month, to put out a post that rounds up all the little things that I want to share: weekend trips and my latest hikes, what I’m reading/watching/listening to, the things I’m writing and the photographs I’m taking.

It feels like I’m always saying something like- “I can’t believe it’s ** already!”. Wasn’t I just saying that about the end of summer, or the month of September? But now we’re at the end of October and in some ways it still feels like spring. I’ve said this before and I’m still feeling it: it’s as if COVID froze time, as though it were still spring or that it’s one long extension of a very strange season, and that life- real life- won’t begin again until this virus is somewhere behind us.

It feels this way, and yet, life goes on. Real life, as strange as it is, is right now. And October was full of some good things!

Travel

I went on a couple notable weekend trips this month: up to the Adirondacks of New York, and out to the Pine Creek Gorge (often called the “Grand Canyon of PA”) in north-central Pennsylvania. Both trips involved hiking and finding good food and lots of time outside. Plus a chance to soak up the beautiful fall foliage! I think each trip caught the tail end of peak foliage, but even under overcast skies, the landscape was stunning. I might not love cold weather, but I still really appreciate living in a place that has four, distinct seasons.

Hiking

Moxham Mountain (near North Creek, NY), a 5.5 mile hike featuring expansive lookouts over the Hudson Valley and the Adirondack mountains. There were so many scenic viewpoints and the climb up was gradual/steady, and never very steep. I loved it!

Mt. Joy & Mt. Misery, Valley Forge National Park, PA, 6.5 miles: my local Camino group met for the first time since February. The group limit was capped at 10 and we all wore masks throughout the hike (it was easier than I thought it would be! Sometimes when I was a bit out of breath on an uphill section I’d pull my mask down but for the majority of the hike kept it on). Our leader for the day took us on a great loop through the park, including a section on a ‘border trail’ that’s not marked on any of the official maps. Valley Forge can get busy, especially on weekends, but once we got into the woods the people thinned out and it seemed like we had the trees to ourselves. And it was so good to see some of my Camino buddies, and be in a small group again. I was a little nervous heading into the gathering but a hike in the woods- with masks and social distancing- felt safe and good.

Great Falls Loop, Ricketts Glen State Park, PA, 4 miles: On my way to north-central PA to meet my sister for the weekend, I stopped by Ricketts Glen State Park, known for it’s waterfalls. I’d heard of the park before but had never made the trip- now I’m wondering what’s taken me so long! (like so many others, it’s taken the pandemic to get me exploring more in my own backyard). The 4-mile loop wound past 17 waterfalls- 17!! Just when I thought it couldn’t get better, it did. With dappled sunlight and leaves fluttering down from the trees, it was truly a perfect fall hike. (There’s a longer waterfall loop hike- about 7 miles- but if you park in the Lake Rose lot it’s possible to do a shorter loop and still see all- or nearly all- of the waterfalls).

Reading/Watching/Listening

It’s taking me forever, but I’m loving Haruki Murakami’s ‘The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle‘. I was reading a ton in late spring/summer, but now that I’m back to work in a school, my energy is sapped at the end of the day. But I’m determined to finish and then start on some of my current library requests: on the docket is Elena Ferrante’s ‘The Lying Life of Adults‘ (still on a waiting list but I can’t wait to read this!), and Yaa Gyasi’s ‘Transcendent Kingdom‘.

I mentioned this in my last post, but I’m really enjoying David Smith’s new podcast– Clearskies Camino. His blog is a great place for all-things-Camino, and the podcast is proving to be more of the same. Each week he interviews a different pilgrim about their experience on the Camino, and it’s been so much fun to hear the voices of some people I’ve been “following” (blog/social media) for years now. I’m gathering up the courage to be one of his guests- I think I would love talking about my experience but of course these kinds of things always make me so nervous!

It’s October, and that means scary movies! I watched Netflix’s ‘The Haunting of Bly Manor’ and it was the perfect thing to get me in a spooky kind of mood. Along with my annual viewing of ‘The Shining’, of course. On a completely different note, I’m also watching the new season of The Great British Baking Show (I love, love, love this show).

Writing

This month’s essay on Patreon is a reflective piece, about how an encounter on the Pennine Way got me thinking about what my version of heaven might look like. I’m having a lot of fun working on Patreon essays, and love that I have a place for these writings to land. You’ve got to ‘subscribe’ and sign up as a patron to get access to these once-a-month essays, but levels start as low as $1 a month! The support I’m getting here means the world to me, and I love that a platform like this exists.

I blogged about what it’s like to walk the Camino as an introvert, and as ever, I’m continuing to make slow progress on my Camino book. (An early chapter is up on my Patreon site, and it’s a public piece so you don’t need to be a patron to read it. Check it out!)

Photos

Over on Instagram, I’m revisiting my first Camino- my 2014 journey on the Camino Francés- and it’s been fun to share some of those memories. Otherwise, my camera roll is full of tall trees and fall colors: oranges, reds, yellows. This is one of the most beautiful times of the year in my corner of the world, and I’m trying to get outside everyday for a walk, even if it’s often the same loop through my neighborhood. What a beautiful loop it is!

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Two additional, quick highlights:

1: My grandmother turned 90! Happy Birthday Baba!

2: I voted! Election Day isn’t until November 3rd but this year, millions of voters are getting their ballots in early. I dropped off my mail-in ballot at a local drop-box (I was able to walk down my driveway and onto a path through the woods to get there- what a way to vote!), and I got confirmation that it got to where it needed to go. Hoping, praying, for some good change to come to this country.

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