hiking Archives - Page 11 of 11

52 days. 3 countries. Suddenly, this trip has become real.

April 2, 2014

I booked my flight last night. And just before I hit the ‘confirm booking’ button on my computer screen, I could feel my heart beating in my chest, sweat forming on my palms, my breathing becoming shallow.

Man, I was nervous. I’ve been preparing for this trip for three months now: reading everything I can, writing about all of my reasons for doing this long walk, training and hiking and learning how to take care of blisters. I’ve told everyone that I’m walking the Camino, I’ve told myself that I’m walking the Camino, and yet, until yesterday, it wasn’t actually real.

Without a flight, I could back out. I could have decided that I am indeed crazy for doing this, that I didn’t want to go alone, that walking for 5 weeks was not how I wanted to spend my vacation. I could be on a beach instead, I could be in Maine, I could go back to France and write.

And all of those thoughts have gone through my head. Am I crazy for wanting to do this? Do I want to be alone? Do I want to be on a beach in Maine instead?

I always knew that the answer was ‘no’, but it didn’t stop those questions from tip-toeing around my mind. And even though I have been so certain that I will walk the Camino this summer, until now, it’s all been words. Only words, and some hikes through a local park.

But now I have a plane ticket, and I’ll be away for 52 days. I look at that number and I have some disbelief. I just committed to a 52-day trip in Europe. 52 days. Right now, it feels a bit daunting. And… incredible.

There is still so much planning to do, but for now my trip looks kind of like this: fly into Paris. Get down to St. Jean-Pied-de-Port and start walking. Walk for about 5 weeks. Arrive in Santiago, possibly on my birthday. Meet up with a friend and (maybe) walk to Finisterre. Fly/train back over to France and spend time in Provence. Return to Paris.

And here’s the final twist. In Paris, get on a plane, and on my way home, stop in Iceland for 17 hours.

I couldn’t resist! I’ve been looking at flights for months, and trying different combinations of dates and airports and airlines. Flying in and out of New York, rather than Philadelphia, was $300 dollars cheaper on Icelandair, and when I saw that I could fairly easily roam around Reykjavik and experience the midnight sun, I was sold.

There are now so many parts to this trip that I feel overwhelmed, but it’s a very, very good kind of ‘overwhelm’. I’m just relieved that I still have several months to prepare.

So I just put a giant check mark next to ‘purchase flight’. Phew. Next up: a new pair of shoes.

A Perfect Camino.

March 22, 2014

I’ve been doing A LOT of reading/research about the Camino. I can’t get the Camino off my mind, and I don’t know if I want to: this summer is shaping up to potentially be one of the greatest of my life, and I’m feeling more excitement by the day.

But recently, I’ve wondered if I’m doing too much research. If I’m trying to over-prepare.

Right now, I’m a bit overwhelmed by everything I need to purchase for this trip. It’s not even that I need so much: a pair of pants, a pair of shorts, a few t-shirts, socks, a sleeping bag, a pack, shoes. A few extras, too: a lightweight fleece and a rain jacket, maybe a sarong because I hear those things can be used in dozens of different ways.

The thing is, I don’t really “know” anything about hiking/backpacking/travel gear. I’m learning about lightweight, moisture wicking clothing, about synthetic vs cotton, the importance of ounces and grams. I’m weeding through review after review, curious about what others have used on the Camino, what worked, what didn’t.

I’m finding myself wanting to get everything just right.

And it’s not just my gear, it’s everything else, too. What camera should I bring? Should I break up the monstrous first day with an overnight in Orrison? Which albergues should I stay in? Which ones should I avoid?

I haven’t fallen down the rabbit hole yet, but I’m dangerously close.

I’m beginning to fool myself into thinking that I can have the perfect Camino. The ideal pack, not an ounce too heavy. Bringing every essential item and leaving behind all the non-essentials. Walking 500 miles without a single blister. Seeing all the “must-sees” along the way, staying at the best albergues.

There is something that I must remind myself of repeatedly in the next three months, as I continue to prepare for my trip: There is no such thing as a perfect Camino. I will not get everything just right. There will be beauty in my mistakes. There will be discovery in the unknown.

I can’t fly off to Spain completely blind, with no idea what I’m getting myself into. If I took that approach, I’d probably never buy a plane ticket or walk a single step on ‘the way’. I’d be too scared. At times, I envy a “blind” approach: knowing little about the towns and cities I’ll be passing through, throwing a few things in a pack and figuring it out as I go along. Some people will approach their Camino in this way, and I think to do that would be an incredible thing.

But that’s not my way. Instead, I’m finding my balance, my own way to approach this Camino. I’ve given up on the idea of trying to do everything ‘just right’, and it’s taken the pressure off. I’m going to research the things I need to buy for this trip, but I’m not going to obsess: I’ll buy some pants and a light sleeping bag and if something is not right: if I’m too hot or too cold or uncomfortable with my gear, I’ll figure it out while I’m in Spain.

In the reading that I’ve already done, I’ve discovered a few things and places along the Camino that I’ve very curious about: my own ‘must-sees’. But I’m keeping that list small. I want to be able to set off on my Camino with a vague and flexible itinerary. I’ll stop walking when I want to stop walking, keep walking when I want to keep walking. Maybe I’ll stay in the “popular” places, maybe I’ll take detours, maybe I’ll walk with others, maybe I’ll walk alone.

There will be no perfect Camino. There will be only my Camino.

First training “hikes” and first blisters

March 14, 2014

Last weekend I hopped in my car and drove out to a nearby state park to do some hiking. The weather was mild and sunny- it was the first warm air I’d felt in what seemed like years (this has been such a long, cold winter). I was excited to be outside and to get on a trail, and to actually begin my training.

I’ve been to this park many times before, and I know its trails inside and out. There are four ‘wooded’ trails that provide about 13 miles of hiking, and a 5-mile paved “multi-use” trail that loops around in a circle. In the past I’d always hiked the trails that run through the woods: there are several hills, and few people hike them, which I like. I never really measure my distance when I hike (though this is about to change), but I’d guess that I typically hike 4-6 miles.

I got to the park and realized that the trails are almost completely covered with snow. Of course. If I were walking the Camino at a different time of the year, I might have considered hiking through the snow, but since I’ll be in Spain during June & July, there’s no need for me to attempt to snow-shoe it through the park.

I was bummed, at first, but then realized that I could walk the multi-use trail instead. It’s a paved trail, and that’s probably a good thing; a portion of the Camino (I’m not sure how much… 1/3 of it?) is on paved roads, and it’s probably good experience for my ‘training’ to include all types of surfaces.

So, I walked. I’ve been out to the park multiple times in the last week, walking 5 miles, 9 miles, 6 miles, 7 miles. My feet hurt, a bit, but by the next day they usually feel better.

And then there are the blisters.

I have a few, and they’re not bad. If anything, I was sort of glad to see them (probably the last time in my life that I will say something like that). I don’t have the shoes I’ll be taking on the Camino yet, so these blisters don’t tell me too much… and yet, it’s a good reality check. If I’m not careful with my feet, I will get blisters on the Camino. Once I get my Camino shoes, I’ll hopefully be able to figure out where the problem spots on my feet are going to be. In the meantime, I’m getting some practice treating blisters/practicing better prevention.

So as I sit here, early on a Friday morning, drinking some coffee before heading into work, I’ve got a couple small blisters on my toes and a dull ache in my legs. But I don’t mind. Signs of things to come.

Camino Planning: Time to Begin.

February 26, 2014

It’s nearly March, and it’s time to get serious about my Camino.

It’s not like I haven’t been serious; at this point, there’s not much that can stop me from going to Spain this summer to walk. My mind has been made up for awhile, I’ve done a ton of research, and most of my friends and family know about my plans.

But everything else? I feel like I haven’t even begun.

Let’s run down where I stand on training, supplies and equipment, and logistical stuff that needs to be planned:

Training hikes completed: Zero.

Equipment purchased: Zero. (As ever, all I currently have for this walk is a Spork. And a headlamp that either belongs to my ex-boyfriend, or my handyman. Either way, it’s mine now).

Spanish learned: Zero.

Flights/hotels/trains booked: Zero.

Aside from work, a major portion of my time is spent thinking about and focusing on the Camino, but I don’t have much to actually show for all of this. What, then, have I been doing?

For starters, I get lost in reading blogs and books about people who have walked the Camino or are preparing to walk (and on this note, I’m so excited that several bloggers I follow will be walking the Camino in the next month or two. It’s so great to be able to follow along in “real time”, and makes me even more excited about this crazy adventure).

What else have I done? I signed up for the Y, and I’ve been pretty consistent about driving out there, lacing up some sneakers, and walking/running on their indoor track. It’s not a training hike, but walking 4 miles is certainly better than nothing. It feels so easy and I feel like I’m walking so fast, but then I think about wearing a 12-15 pound pack, walking an additional 4-5 hours, and doing it every single day. Yikes.

And, finally, I watched ‘The Way’. Again.

So with approximately 4 months left until I leave for Europe, I know that it’s time to check some items off of my Camino to-do list. I’ve got a few goals for March; nothing too difficult, but all stuff that is going to push me into the reality of the Camino.

I’ve got a lot of time to purchase all of the items I need for this walk, but the two big things I want to have by the end of March are a backpack and shoes. This is the perfect time to try out different models and find a pack and shoes that really fit and are comfortable. Then, moving into April and better weather (hopefully), I’ll be ready to find some long trails and begin my practice hikes.

I’m also hoping to buy my plane ticket by the end of March. I’ve held off on this mostly because I need to wait and see how long the school year is going to last, and whether winter is going to hit us with any more snow days.

I also really need to pin down my plans for this trip: how many days to set aside for the walk, and what my post-walk plans will be. I’ve been considering a dozen different options, many of which involve spending some time in France. The latest plan is to have a friend meet me in Santiago, walk with her to Finisterre, and then travel over to France and spend time exploring Provence. Just typing this all out seems unreal. Walking across Spain, meeting a friend and walking to the coast, roaming around France, spending the last day of my trip in Paris… it’s just unreal.

My plans keep getting bigger and bigger: at first, I figured I’d spend 5-6 weeks in Europe. Now I know I’ll be there for at least 6 weeks, but I’m leaning towards 7. And then there’s this crazy part of me that thinks, “But Nadine, you have 8 weeks off in the summer! Why not spend that entire time in Europe?”

I may never come home.

But first, before any of this craziness and fun, I need to get some things done.

How do you say, “Let’s begin!” in Spanish?

Walking 500 Miles.

January 17, 2014

Why am I walking the Camino? Every day I think of new reasons, and at times I think that I must have 500: a reason for every mile I will walk.

I started this blog to share my story of walking the Camino, but in these early stages, I’m struggling to know what to share. It doesn’t feel very exciting to talk about all of my pre-planning and my thoughts and my fears. I’m sure I’ll get into it all, and I suspect that as the summer approaches I will have Camino fever and want to write every day. But today? It’s a cold day in the middle of January and the Camino is still a far-off dream. It doesn’t feel real.

I think about the days I will be spending, walking through a hot summer in Spain, and I can start to feel the heat of the sun and the burn in my legs, the weight on my back and the plates of food I’ll devour at night. I think about why I’ve decided to do this, why these images are in my head. And for the beginning of a blog, I can’t see a better place to start with than at why.

Reason #1 for walking this Camino is a big one: lots and lots of walking. I’m doing this Camino so I can walk. Walk every day, walk for hours, walk across a country. I love to walk and I love to hike. I don’t have a lot of hiking experience- I’m not a backpacker and don’t even have hiking boots. I don’t really know that much: nothing about elevation or gear or trail etiquette. But maybe that’s why I love hiking: you don’t need to know or have much to go for a walk in the woods.

It’s not just the woods, either. Most days, I throw on some sneakers and head out my door to take a 30 minute walk through my neighborhood. I walk the same streets, day after day. I pass the same houses and the same neighbors, the same dogs who bound through their yard as I approach. I wave to the same mailman and jump over the same small puddle on the days when it’s rained. I thought I would have gotten bored years ago, but I haven’t. There is something therapeutic about being able to walk through a place I know so well, to know what my exact steps will be, to know where my legs will carry me.

The Camino is going to be a different path every day, but I have a feeling there will be some consistency and routine in the walking. At the very least, there will be the routine of waking every morning, putting on my shoes, and stepping outside for a walk.

Walking clears my head and it clears my lungs. I think when I walk, and I zone out when I walk. I listen to music, I listen to nothing, sometimes I listen to my own voice as I talk out loud. I nearly always feel better after I’ve gone on a walk or a hike. I feel alive and invigorated, but also settled and calm. Good, good feelings.

If Not Now, When?

January 15, 2014

I’d been thinking of walking the Camino this summer for the past few months, but it’s only been in the last 3-4 weeks that I’ve been giving it “serious” thought. As soon as I said to myself, “I might be able to do it in the summer of 2014,” I began to read everything I could about the Camino. I started with blogs, for day-by-day accounts of pilgrims who have walked in the past year or two. Then I started checking books out from the library (as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t make it through Shirley MacLaine’s account of her Camino). Then I went on forums, studying the questions that people were asking: learning about equipment, foot care, budgeting. I’ve probably overwhelmed myself with information, but to me, this is a fun stage to be in: before anything is real, before I’ve told anyone (with any certainty) that I AM going to do this; before any training or booking a flight; before taking any footsteps. It’s all fun and exciting and ideal.

But when, exactly, do I move from the pre-planning stage to the actual planning stage? I think it’s as soon as I say the words, “I am going to walk the Camino this summer.” Whenever I talk about my plans, the words ‘maybe’ and ‘if’ and ‘I’m thinking about it’ always come out of my mouth.

What am I waiting for? Well, there are some questions. The first one being: is this how I want to spend my summer? I work in a school and have two months off, from mid June to mid August. Most years, I take short trips, visit family and friends, and otherwise relax and lounge around. Not a bad way to spend a summer, by any means. But last year, I spent an incredible three weeks in southern France, and it reawakened a strong desire for travel and experience. With so many places I want to see, not to mention wishing that I could repeatedly return to France, do I want to spend my summer walking through Spain?

And then there is the question of money, and it’s what has stopped me from big summer traveling in the past. I never thought that I had enough, and the practical side of me heard warning bells every time I thought about spending the money I saved up during the year on month(s) long European travel.

Money needs to be a consideration, but so does the question: “If not now, when?” I may never again have two months of my life when I have nothing tying me down, when I do not have to work, when I am healthy and able, when I have the desire and willingness. I may never have this time again. So if that means scrimping and saving throughout the year, sacrificing other things so I don’t have to sacrifice this, then I know that I can afford to travel. Besides, I’ll be traveling like a pilgrim: sleeping on mattresses or bunk beds with dozens or even hundreds of others in the same room, and cooking my own meals or eating off of the inexpensive Pilgrim’s menu.

My plans are still hazy, but as my desire to walk the Camino grows every day, my vision of this becomes clearer. I’d like to give myself about 6 weeks in Europe, which should be more than enough time to walk from St. Jean Pied-de-Port to Santiago. It allows for a few travel days and rest days, and maybe even a return to southern France for a week, or the chance to spend a few days in Paris or Barcelona.

And as these plans become clearer, the questions begin to be answered. I will have enough money to do this. I do want to spend 5-6 weeks walking through Spain. Slowly, I am moving into the planning stage of this journey. I have a lot I want to do: talk with people who have done this before, walk and walk and walk and then do some practice hikes, learn some basic Spanish, buy a backpack and shoes and everything else. I don’t really need to do any of this (except for acquiring the backpack and shoes), but I can only do anything remotely adventurous with a lot of preparation.

So. I am going to walk the Camino this summer. Let the planning begin.

All my bags are packed

August 8, 2013

On my last morning in Labastide, I headed up for one last trek to Le Roc, which had become “my spot”. As I hiked up the rocky trail past the church, I saw John coming down towards me (John and his wife Kerry are owners and hosts of La Muse). He slowed for only a few steps and said, simply, “It’s a perfect day.”

I got up to Le Roc and immediately understood what he meant: it was the clearest morning of my three weeks in Labastide. I could see far into the valley below me and beyond, to the clear outlines of the Pyrenees and their still snow capped peaks. For weeks, my eyes would strain and only make out hazy outlines of the Pyrenees; and now, suddenly, here they were. It felt like a message, but whether that message was “hello” or “goodbye” I’m not sure.

In any case, it was perfect. I had lots of perfect days in Labastide, and many in my last week. I intended to blog so much more while on my trip: funny and strange details about the people I interacted with, relearning and remembering how to speak French, my daily hiking adventures. And I still might tell those stories.

But for now, the end.

The day before I left, I woke up at 6am so I could hike to Le Roc to see the sunrise (even though the mountains blocked most of the view). I headed out of La Muse and Homer, John and Kerry’s dog, ran up to me. Normally, Homer would accompany residents on their hikes and walks, but at the beginning of our retreat Homer got sick, and his daily jaunts were restricted. For three weeks I would head out for a hike and Homer would stare at me with sad eyes, begging to come along.

I don’t know what he was doing outside so early, it was almost as if he was waiting for me. He bounded over, gave me a quick look, and then took off, sprinting, out of the village. He wasn’t missing this walk.

I headed towards Le Roc, with Homer leading the way. We made it up to my spot and sat together and watched the morning for awhile.

Homer at Le Roc

The rest of the day was a blur: lingering at lunch, a last hike, a pizza dinner with the entire group, starting a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle at 10pm. I woke up the next morning, not quite packed, not quite prepared to navigate Paris, not quite ready to leave. I sat on the terrace and ate my breakfast with Jean-Christophe and other residents filed in and out, everyone up earlier than normal that day.

I sat at Le Roc and stared at the Pyrenees for as long as I could, and then raced back to La Muse to throw things in my suitcase and write an entry in the guestbook and give away the extra food in my cupboard and say goodbye to La Muse and Labastide.

We drove away in the jeep, only Diane and I leaving that morning (Glenn and Julia came along for the ride and a trip to the grocery store; both had figured out a way to stay in Labastide for another week). As we drove away from the village, someone started singing, “All my bags are packed I’m ready to go, I’m standing here outside your door…” and we all joined in. It’s the slightly corny kind of thing you’d see in a movie, but for us, and in that moment, it worked. It was bittersweet and beautiful.

So many people who go to La Muse end up going back, and I understand why. Already, there was lots of talk about reuniting next summer. I think I knew, on my first day there, that I would want to go back, and that feeling only intensified throughout my stay.

But if I never make it back, it’s okay. It’s the kind of experience that stays with a person forever, and I got more out of it than I ever imagined I would.

Nadine at Le Roc, Labastide, France

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