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Nadine Walks

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15 Photos that will make you fall in love with the Camino del Norte

August 13, 2019

I’ve returned home from my European summer adventures, and have so much to share. I’d had good intentions of blogging while I was away, but it seems that in the last few years, “live” blogging from my Camino has become quite difficult. I love capturing the photos and notes and details while I’m in the moment, but I’ve moved away from doing that on the blog (if you aren’t following on Instagram, you can go over there and scroll back a bit to see some photos from my walk!).

But I do have a slew of post ideas now that I’m back. I also have thousands of photos that I’m not entirely sure what to do with (well, I suppose in this digital age we ALL have thousands of photos that we’re not quite sure what to do with). My new camera was a great success; before my trip I bought myself a Fujifilm X-T20  Mirrorless digital camera with a 35mm lens, and while I still have a lot to learn, the Camino was an excellent training ground. I wore the camera around my shoulder every day as I walked, and alternated between using that and my iPhone to capture and record my Camino.

So with all of these photos in mind, I thought I would start with a post that captures some of my favorite images from the Camino del Norte. This was the second time I walked a section of the Norte (this year I walked from Irun to Oviedo, a total of 19 days), and the coastal scenery reminded me again why I love this Camino. It’s the coastal walking, yes, but as I’ve begun to go through my photos, I realize that there’s so much other beauty, too. I had a lot of gray and rainy weather, but I also had beautiful, soft mornings when the mist created magical blankets and the sun filtered through the clouds and created golden rays of light. I look through my photos and I’m reminded again that the Norte provides lots of animal encounters: cows and horses and goats and sheep and cats and dogs (and this year, lots of puppies!). There are rolling hills and the outline of mountains and vibrant cities and sleepy towns.

And there’s the coast, the blue and wild and often empty coast, rocky and jagged and windswept.

I doubt I’ll write detailed daily recap posts from this year’s walk on the Norte (you can start here to read about my past walk, in 2015); but I do want to share parts of this trek. So for now, I’ll begin with 15 photos that will make you fall in love with the Camino del Norte. These are 15 photos that I look at and I find myself in love all over again, already wanting to return, to walk a third time, to just walk it again and again and again. I’m not sure if and when I’d ever return- there are just too many other walks out there and my feet are itching for new terrain- but in the meantime I have these memories.

Here they are, 15 photos that will make you fall in love with the Camino del Norte!

1. Horse on a hill outside of Zumaia (Day 3); in the far right corner of this photo you might be able to see the sea; the views were incredible here even under gray skies, but it was this horse, grazing on the slanted hillside, that caught my eye.

15 photos that will make you fall in love with the Camino del Norte; horse on hillside

 

2. Archway in the Monastery de Zenarruza, Ziortza (Day 4). There is an Albergue at this monastery, where I stayed in 2015. Because it was one of my favorite places to stay on the Norte I made sure to stop here again, and it did not disappoint. The location is stunning: set up high in the hills, isolated and quiet, with a long terrace and a peaceful cloister, a communal meal and artisanal beer brewed by the monks.

Monastery de Zennaruza, Camino del Norte

 

3. Strutting rooster and pilgrim laundry (Day 5). Just a typical late afternoon albergue scene on the Camino! This was Caserio Pozueta, an albergue 5.3km past Gernika. Not only were there chickens and roosters roaming around, but there were four 5-week old puppies! This was a private albergue where the family lived in one part of the building and ran an albergue in the other. Their young boys helped show pilgrims to their bunkrooms, and the communal evening meal was one of the best on my Camino.

Strutting rooster at Caserió Pozueta, Camino del Norte

 

4. Walking out of Bilbao (Day 7). I often find large cities on the Camino to be overwhelming, and sometimes I find myself passing through rather than staying the night. But my favorite thing about staying in cities might be leaving the next morning: the streets are quiet, people are still sleeping, the air is soft and the city is yours. There are several Camino route options when leaving Bilbao, and having taken two of them, I’d highly recommend walking with the river to your left. This photo was taken looking back on Bilbao as I walked away; further ahead I would pass the stunning building of the Guggenheim, and later would get to take a transporter bridge across the river to Portugalete.

Walk out of Bilbao on the Camino del Norte

 

5. Goat on coast (Day 8). Another animal photo, but I couldn’t help it, I’d just be walking along, another heavy cloud day on the coast, and then I’d see a goat, and then another, and they’d just be set so perfectly against that great blue water that I had to take photo after photo.

15 photos that will make you fall in love with the Camino del Norte; goat on coast

 

6. My favorite stretch of coast, before the descent into Laredo (Day 9).

Coastal views on Camino del Norte, before descent to Laredo

 

7. Pilgrim still-life on beach (Day 10). This rock with the big yellow arrow is on the beach that leads to Noja, just after you descend the steep Colina de El Brusco. Beach walking on the Camino del Norte is the best! And that includes getting sand in your shoes (although what’s also best is taking off your shoes and socks, feeling the sand between your toes, and walking in the water for a bit).

Yellow arrow on beach in Noja, Camino del Norte

 

8. Soft morning light, countryside after Guemes (Day 11).

Sunlight through trees, Camino del Norte

 

9. Sunrise leaving Santander (Day 12). Another beautiful and quiet morning as I left a big city; I took a coastal alternative out of Santander and while this wasn’t an official Camino route and the added kilometers set me a stage back from many of the pilgrims I’d gotten to know, most of the day was full of the stunning views and so much beauty.

Sunrise in Santander, Camino del Norte

 

10. Sunrise cobwebs (Day 15). I think the mornings were my very favorite time on the Camino; on this day, leaving Serdio, I had the most beautiful, soft light and a hovering fog that burned away once the sun fully rose.

Morning cobwebs on fence, Camino del Norte

 

11. Coastal alternative to Pendueles (Day 15). This was also the Camino of alternate routes; I took as many as I could if it meant that I could walk along the coast.

Alternate coastal path to Pendueles, Camino del Norte

 

12. The bougainvillea on the church wall in Llanes (Day 16). I love this landscaping, I love the contrast of the purple against the white, I love the twisting roots and the old stone wall.

Bougainvillea on church in Llanes, Camino del Norte

 

13. Another photo of a horse, because there hasn’t been an animal photo in awhile (Day 17).

A friendly horse; 15 photos that will make you fall in love with the Camino del Norte

 

14. And another shot of the coast, because it’s the Camino del Norte and many believe that the coastal walks make this the most beautiful Camino of them all! (Day 17)

Coastal path before La Isla; 15 photos that will make you fall in love with the Camino del Norte

 

15. Early morning in Oviedo, with cathedral enveloped in fog (Day 19). I ended this year’s Camino in Oviedo, which is quickly becoming my favorite city in Spain.

Oviedo cathedral in morning fog, Camino del Norte, Camino Primitivo

So those are 15 of my favorite photos from this year’s Camino del Norte; there are many more to share and hopefully I’ll weave them into more blog posts soon. In the meantime, if these photos did encourage you to start planning a Camino, you can check out these past posts:

Which is better? The Camino Frances or the Camino del Norte?

Favorite Albergues on the Camino del Norte Part One

Favorite Albergues on the Camino del Norte Part Two

Like a Rolling Stone: Day One on the Camino del Norte, Irun to San Sebastian

 

(Note: Nadine Walks contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase through these links, I will earn a commission at no extra cost to you)

15 Comments / Filed In: Camino de Santiago, Camino del Norte, hiking, Photography, solo-female travel, Travel, walking
Tagged: albergues, Bilbao, Camino de Santiago, camino del norte, hiking, Oviedo, photography, pilgrim, pilgrimage, Santander, solo female travel, travel, walking

Capturing Time

June 11, 2019

What will this year’s Camino be about?

A quick recap, for those who may not have read my last post: I’ll be setting off from France and crossing into Spain on the Camino Aragones, followed by a stretch on the Camino del Norte. The trip begins in just under a week. I should have about 28 or 29 days of walking, and though I won’t make it all the way to Santiago, I am going to be able to sink into a nice long walk across Spain.

So it’s another long walk, and another long walk in Spain. This will be my sixth summer of walking, and I can’t imagine that I’ll grow tired of this any time soon. 

Pilgrim shadow, Camino de Santiago

But there’s something about this year’s trip that feels a little different. I’ll be walking a new Camino- the Aragonés– and that will be about 10 days of the trip. But the other nearly three weeks will be a repeat; I’m going to return to the Camino del Norte, and walk a portion of what I did in 2015. 

I’ve been wanting to return to the Norte, and yet I worry that repeating an experience while there are still so many other walks out there will make me feel restless. I can’t know what I’m going to be feeling until I’m out there, walking, and mostly I think I’m going to love my summer. I knew I wanted at least another return to Europe, and I wanted another taste of Spain. The Camino del Norte was where I felt like I really settled into walking, where I really owned my Camino, and that was a powerful experience. 

But still, I think: what will this year’s Camino be about?

Every other year had something. Something new or something different, a challenge, an experiment. The 2014 Camino Frances started it all, and as I set off from St Jean I didn’t know if I would be able to make it to Santiago. Everything was new: my pack and my shoes and my clothing and all my gear and I’d never done anything remotely like this before.

Marker 0.00, Finisterre, Spain

At the end

The 2015 Camino was on the Norte, along with the Primitivo and a super fast walk from Santiago to Muxia. In many ways, this Camino felt like a continuation of the year before, it’s where I asked myself if I really loved this walking thing, where I asked myself how I wanted to walk, where I challenged myself to walk how I needed to walk.

View of the coast on the Camino del Norte

2016 was on the Camino de San Salvador, followed by the last 9 days on the Norte, followed by 5 days on the West Highland Way in Scotland. This was a year of solo walking, where I learned that I could walk alone and stay alone and that it was okay. It was more than okay: it was thrilling, it gave me such a powerful sense of freedom and agency over my life. I finished the West Highland Way and felt like I might just be able to walk around the whole world if I wanted to.

Me walking the West Highland Way in Scotland

Then there was the Chemin du Puy in France, in 2017. Speaking French was the challenge here. It was a Camino in another country, but it was also the language and the culture and figuring out how to belong. I was conversational in French, but speaking had always intimidated me a bit. But I’d also spent years working hard to understand the language, and spending a few weeks walking through France forced me to remember words I’d thought I’d long forgotten. I remembered what it was like to sometimes sit on the outside, not understanding what was going on. In some ways, I felt more out of my comfort zone on the Chemin du Puy than I have on any other walk, but it was good for me. In the end, I wasn’t on the outside at all.

Last summer, in 2018, I walked for 15-days on the Pennine Way. It was a mostly solo, very challenging walk. I carried a much heavier pack than previous trips, and camped for a couple of nights. There was beauty and that glorious feeling of freedom, but this walk was very physical. I proved to myself just how strong I could be, but a lot of the walk was tough. That’s not a bad thing, not necessarily, but it was different than the experience of a long Camino when I can often let my mind wander and fly, where my feet find a rhythm, where the walking feels automatic. 

All smiles in my tent; Pennine Way

So this year, what is this year about? What will it be like to return? What will it be like to remember? To slip back into memories from 4 years ago, to a time when it all still felt so new and unknown? Will it rain on the walk from Irun to San Sebastian? Will another huge blister spread across the bottom of my foot? Will I curse the hills out of Deba, will I grumble my exhaustion to the cows? Will I stretch my arms as wide as the sea as I spin down the trail? Will I meet new friends, friends as kind and generous and bright as the friends from years before?

There are all of those questions. But there’s also this: a new camera! I seem to have this need to introduce at least one new element into each year’s walk, so this year, I’m finally bringing along a camera other than my iPhone. It will add weight to my pack, but I figure after last year’s trek on the Pennine Way, I’m up to the challenge. I’m still not sure how I’m going to walk with the camera, if it will be tedious to carry in my hands, if it will bounce annoyingly against my chest as I walk, but I’m sure I’ll figure something out. 

I like the feel of a camera in my hands again. When I was a teenager and into my early 20s, I had a Pentax SLR that I carried around with me nearly everywhere. I shot rolls and rolls of film, and probably a lot of it wasn’t very good, but I loved it. I loved looking through the viewfinder and shutting out the rest of the world, it was nothing but me and that image and it was like time stopped. And it did, for a split second, I could stop time and capture something and I really loved it. 

Selfie in an iPhone with new camera

Ideally, I would have had more time to experiment with this camera first, to figure out all the settings and to practice and practice. But it seems as though my practice will be on the Camino, and I’m looking forward to that. I’ll share some photos here, though I can’t imagine I’ll be able to get any substantial posts out until after the walking is done. My plan is still to post a photo with a little caption on the blog most days, but it’s going to be nothing like these 1,000+ word posts I’ve been putting up lately.

But if you think you might want more photos in “real time”, I’m planning to post a bunch over on Patreon, in somewhat ‘exclusive’ posts that only my patrons have access to. But to be clear, I’ll eventually be sharing those photos here, too, just not quite in real time. So if you’ve been thinking about supporting me (pledges start at just $1.00 a month!), or want to read a little more about why I set up a Patreon, you can follow this link and check it out. And thanks again to all of my current subscribers, your support fills my heart. 

Detail of leaves on Ridley Creek hike

But thank you to all who continue to come here, who keep on reading, who are following along on my journey. Your support fills my heart, too, it always has. And I’m so excited to share this next leg of the journey with you. Stay tuned.

 

1 Comment / Filed In: Camino Aragones, Camino del Norte, Travel, walking
Tagged: Camino Aragones, Camino de Santiago, camino del norte, camino primitivo, Chemin du puy, hiking, long distance walking, pennine way, photography, solo female travel, travel, walking, West Highland Way, writing

If Not Now, When? Part Two

December 4, 2018

Earlier today, when I was on a hike, the phrase “If not now, when?” went through my head.

I’d been thinking about how and when to take the next steps in life, and about barriers and fears and uncertainties. And then I remembered that the phrase “If not now, when?” was something I wrote on this blog, in one of my first posts. Actually, that was the title of the post, and I wrote it on January 14, 2014, nearly 5 years ago. I’d been learning all about the Camino de Santiago and thinking that I might want to walk across Spain, but I hadn’t fully decided that I’d do it. Or, maybe I had, I just needed to push myself through the questions and into decision.

And a big part of making that decision was asking myself, “If not now, when?”

path through the fog

I’m thinking about this again because I’m feeling ready to take another step. Lately, over these past nearly 5 years, my walking/writing adventures have followed a similar pattern. I plan some big trip in the summer, spend at least part of that trip walking a great distance, and then spend a lot of the following months writing about it. Though the rest of the year, I work on writing my book (about that first trip on the Camino Frances), and I research other walks and start thinking about the next journey.

It’s been a great pattern, and it fits nicely into the rest of my life. My work counseling teenagers gives me two months off in the summer, so it hasn’t been hard to take a long trip every year. I’m careful with my money and sacrifice certain things so that I can afford to travel (the top sacrifice might be fixing the air conditioning in my car, eek).

And the writing fits in, too. Sometimes I blog while I’m on my trips, lately I’ve been blogging about these trips in the fall and winter. I work on my book during the week, in a small pocket of time that I guard as my ‘writing time’, often in the early evening twilight hours. I published an e-book last year, and also started sharing photos from my walks on an Instagram account, but otherwise I just keep plugging away at the blog and my book and it all still feels very quiet, and slow, and nice.

late fall hike in Ridley Creek State Park

But I’ve always wanted something a little more. I keep saying that my book might only ever be for me, but if I’m being really honest, I would love to publish it and work hard to connect it to its audience (many of whom are you, you who are reading this blog). I still have work to do, but I’m getting closer to needing to figure out next steps: to have some friends start reading pieces of it, to search for an editor, to work on a book proposal.

And when I think about moving this book from just this thing that I’ve been slowly working on at my kitchen table… to a real thing that others might see… it both terrifies me and thrills me.

It also ignites my dreams. Because writing a book has been a dream of mine for a long time, and when I think that I’m actually doing it, that it just might happen, it seems like all of my other dreams flood in and I can’t ignore them.

I want to travel all over the world and walk in places other than Europe. I want to try to climb Kilimanjaro and trek the Annapurna Circuit and lately I’ve been reading about the Shikoku Pilgrimage in Japan. And there’s this little trek in Guatemala that I researched a few years ago, and the Lycian Way in Turkey, and the list goes on and on.

I want to walk and walk and write about it all. I want to take beautiful photographs and sometimes I wonder if I can create a  book where I can put it all together: the walks and the stories and the photographs. Or, if there are more of these longer stories in me, if the story of the Camino de Santiago is just the first one, the first one in the series of my walking years.

morning sunlight, late fall

I’ve realized a few things in these last few years, because these ideas and dreams aren’t exactly new. I wanted to quit my job and go off and walk around the world and write my stories ever since that first Camino in 2014. But I also knew that it would take a lot to get to a place where I could do this for a year or two, and that maybe I’d never be able to get myself to that place.

So I’ve worked hard to accept where I am and what I’m doing with my life, and all of the beautiful little pieces of it. There are still so many things that I love about the way my life is arranged: the work with my students and my little apartment and my clunky car without AC, and the summers of European travel and long walks and my writer’s community at La Muse, and the writing at the kitchen table in the twilight.

My way is to move slowly. It’s just my nature and that’s something else that I’ve learned to accept and embrace. I’ve learned how to be patient with myself, patient with my dreams and my motivations and my desires. So I’m still here, still moving slowly towards my dreams, but trying to take steps when I can. Begin with that first, single step. And then take another, and another.

late fall colors, PA

I’m not sure where, exactly, these small steps are leading, but right now I feel like I have to take another. I mentioned, in a post a few weeks ago, that I was considering setting up a Patreon account, and asking for your sponsorship and patronage. I’ve hesitated, I’ve thought and thought about it, I’ve read a lot and looked at other accounts- at other writers and bloggers to see what they were doing- and I’ve sat with this idea for little while.

The idea behind Patreon is that it’s a way for artists to get paid for things they’re already creating. Fans, or followers, or patrons (I love saying patrons! I reminds me of all the art history classes I used to take) pay a few dollars every month for the work you’re creating. It’s a way to show support for the art you love, and it helps artists to continue to create their work. In some cases, it enables artists to do and share even more.

I’ve set up a page and you can go there and check it out; I explain more about my work and how and why I’m using Patreon. I’ve even made a little video so if nothing else, you should go watch it! (It’s only a minute long and one of the few videos I’ve ever put together, so don’t expect much!).

The idea of putting out a call for support makes me really nervous. It’s not even a product that I’m putting a price tag on, not here anyway. It’s something looser, it’s like a call for encouragement. It’s a dollar a month or three dollars a month but it’s something more than that too. I’m starting to recognize that all of this work that I’m putting in IS worth something. It always was, but over the years it’s become part of my art; my writing here on the blog is intentional and the stories of these walks- while always true- are also shaped and formed. My photographs are, too. I work to create something beautiful to share with whatever audience I happen to have. It’s something I value highly, it’s something I’ve set out to do with my life.

Brandywine battlefield in fog

So I’m going to keep blogging and taking photographs and sharing them in the ways I always have, regardless of what happens with this Patreon. I’m going to keep going on long walks, too. But I’m curious to see what might happen with a Patreon, if it could help support some of these ventures, if it might lead to other opportunities or possibilities. And the thought of that is really exciting.

And really, if not now, when? It’s been tempting to continue to think that I need more time, that I need more practice and skill and that what I create should be kept small, and easy, and quiet.

It might be that way for a little while longer, but I can feel things stirring. I want to see what I can make, where I can go.

Thanks for being here, or on Instagram, or wherever you happen to be. It continues to be such a pleasure to have this small audience. I’ll be back to the regular program soon- I’m determined to keep these Pennine Way recaps coming! Its been fun to dig back into the walk and relive those glorious summer days, so stay tuned.

3 Comments / Filed In: Photography, walking, Writing
Tagged: author, Camino de Santiago, patreon, photography, pilgrim, solo female travel, travel, writer, writing

Day Two on the Pennine Way: Torside to Standedge, 12 miles

August 17, 2018

My second day on the Pennine Way, compared to the first, was glorious. And oh man, did I need it!

Landscape on the Pennine Way

The sun was shining brightly and the report at breakfast was that the weather should be clear for the next week, at least. And breakfast, for the record, was also glorious: my first full English of the trip. A bowl of cereal, two sausage links, scrambled eggs, a thick slice of ham, tomatoes and mushrooms and baked beans and toast and juice and coffee. It was delicious and also too much but I ate as much as I could and then ordered a packed lunch to carry with me.

Sitting at the next table was Margaret, also from California, and she told me how she had also gotten lost the day before, by walking along Kinder River. “Those footprints you saw were probably mine!” she said. It never occurred to me that I might have been following someone who had also gotten lost.

Margaret was staying two nights in The Old House B&B, and taking advantage of their transport service, so she had already walked the second day and would be driven to a point about 15 miles further on. She told me and David about a shortcut around one of the reservoirs, and our B&B host confirmed it, and I was careful to make a note in my guidebook. We were directed to the best way to get back to the path from the B&B, and so I hoisted my pack and set off across the neighboring field.

Within just five minutes, I was walking back to the B&B to ask for clarification. I’d been wandering around the field rather aimlessly and feeling kind of silly and honestly, I think I had lost a little confidence the day before, when I’d made several big navigational mistakes. My B&B host once again pointed me in the right direction, and finally I was on my way.

Green tunnel on the Pennine Way

The day’s walk was just beautiful. There were some challenging sections, mostly in the first four miles which climbed and climbed up to Black Hill, but even that part wasn’t so bad. The sky was clear blue with huge fluffy clouds and for awhile there were sheep at every turn. I hadn’t yet grown used to the sheep (spoiler: I would pass hundreds and hundreds of sheep nearly every day of the walk), and it was so amusing to approach and see how close I could get before they would spook and run a few feet away.

Sheep and clouds, Pennine Way

And as I climbed up towards Laddow Rocks I was totally alone, and the views stretched out behind me, wide and vast. My legs, despite the strain of the day before, felt good, and I was happy and energized and excited for what was ahead.

One of the most beautiful moments of the day (and maybe of the entire trip) was when I turned off the road towards Wessenden Head Reservoir. There was a great slope of green hill that stretched down from the top of the path, and sitting at the top of the hill was an older woman on a wooden kitchen chair. Darting and racing all around the field in front of her were at least a dozen dogs, maybe more. They were all shapes and sizes and colors, and there were two women amongst them, who seemed to be their handlers. I still haven’t figure out what, exactly, they were doing or where they were from: one of the women would occasionally throw a ball and the dogs were run after it, or sometimes when one might begin to stray too far the other woman would call him back. I watched the dogs for a few minutes and then the woman in the chair began to talk to me. She told me that she had very recently found out that she had cancer, and by some coincidence she had discovered these women with the dogs on Facebook, and they invited her out to this hillside.

She sat there, with a blanket wrapped tightly around her legs, the sun on her face and a dozen dogs racing at her feet. “I think this must be some version of heaven,” she said.

Dogs at Wessenden Head Reservoir, Pennine Way

A little further down the path- after I ate my sandwich on a rock in the sunshine- I attempted the shortcut that our B&B hosts and Margaret had told me about. I studied my map, I made a left at the end of a reservoir, I followed the path and I had no idea what went wrong! I reached what I thought was the end of the path and I couldn’t figure out a way to go forward, so I gave up and retraced my steps (it was around this point that I began wondering just how many miles I was adding on to this whole Pennine Way thing). Just when I got back to where I had attempted the shortcut, I ran into Nigel and Judy, the friendly couple who had shared a taxi with me on the way to Edale.

Shortcut on the Pennine Way, Wessenden Reservoir

Shortcut gone wrong!

We ended up walking together or close to each other for the last few miles of the day, and despite my failure with the first shortcut, we ended up taking another when a very friendly local man explained the best way to get to our lodgings in Standedge. This time- finally- I figured out the right path.

Stile on the Pennine Way

My lodging for the night was a campsite around the back of The Carriage House in Standedge. I’d brought my tent and some camping supplies with me because there were a couple nights along the way where I couldn’t find a bed in a B&B or a hostel or bunkhouse. I also figured that if my plans needed to change or I ran into any trouble, having a tent with me would allow for some extra insurance.

But camping is still a relatively new thing for me; I’ve been car camping only a couple of times, and really, the only thing that gave me any sort of confidence to attempt camping along the Pennine Way was the three nights I spent in my tent on Cumberland Island several years before.

Before I left for my trip, I meant to practice setting up my tent- and I did, just one time. But when I unfurled everything from my pack on the grassy lawn of The Carriage House, the material looked alien and the color coded tabs indecipherable. I flipped the tent and the footprint and the rain cover around a few times and weaved the poles together and clipped things here and there and, eventually, I had something that looked like a standing tent. I realized that I could have used one more stake, and I wasn’t sure if I’d used the stakes that I did have in the correct way; with the first strong gust of wind, I worried that the tent was going to be flapping around too much.

Camping at The Carriage House, Pennine Way

I stood back, with my hands on my hips, and surveyed my work. Good enough. I walked around the side of The Carriage House to find the shower blocks so I could clean up, and then I went inside for a glass of wine. Later, I met up with David and we ate dinner together, and then around 9pm I somewhat reluctantly went outside to see about sleeping in the tent. Once the sun went down the temperatures dropped and I put on every layer of clothing I had in my pack and tucked myself deep in my sleeping bag. But I was cold, and stayed cold all through the night- tossing and turning and trying my hardest to sleep. I think I finally got comfortable around 5am once the sun started to rise and the tent began to warm back up. A little late for a good night’s sleep, but it was enough. Mostly, I was relieved that my first night of camping was over, and I let my tent out in the sun so the dew could dry while I went inside and had another full English breakfast.

Ready for Day 3!!

All smiles in my tent; Pennine Way

 

Previous Post: Day 1 on the Pennine Way

Next Post: Day 3 on the Pennine Way

7 Comments / Filed In: Pennine Way, Writing
Tagged: adventure, challenge, England, friendship, hiking, journey, life, mountains, nature, outdoors, pennine way, photography, solo-female travel, summer, travel, trekking, walking, writing

First Snow and Life These Days

December 12, 2017

Hello my friends! It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? At least a month since I’ve posted something here, and since so many of my recent posts have been about my summer journey on the Chemin du Puy, it feels like ages since we’ve actually caught up.

So here I am, with a little post to say hi. What have all of you been up to since I last checked in? I hope there’s been a lot of walking and maybe some traveling and adventures. Some of you have been out on a Camino, some of you are doing your best to discover new local walks. And some of you are continuing to just get outside everyday, walking the same old roads. I like all of these options.

My corner of the east coast had its first snow of the season on Saturday, and I have to say, I wasn’t quite prepared. Mild weather has stretched long into the fall this year, and so even though we’re well into December, I’m not quite ready for winter. But on Saturday, it was unmistakable: winter is here.

First snow of the year

I always slow down at this time of the year, and I’m sure that this year will be no different. Already I think I’ve gotten back into a good writing routine, and I’ve returned to my big project, ‘The Book’. This is my memoir about my Camino Frances, interspersed with some other life tidbits (though this ‘interspersing’ is proving to be a difficult task). I’d written the bulk of a very rough draft nearly two years ago, and in the meantime have worked in fits and starts, getting little accomplished before becoming completely overwhelmed and confused about what I was trying to write.

Writing this book has felt, at times, so overwhelming and I’ve felt so far from having anything good, that it’s been easy to just walk away. I always intend to come back, but beginning the process again is difficult and I never get very far. But about a month ago I had this feeling that was hard to ignore- a bit of a tug, a persistent nudge, something echoing and bouncing around my mind: the book. The book. The book.

So I’ve come back to it and it’s been slow going but man, it feels good to be in it again. So that’s probably where you’ll find me this winter- sitting at my kitchen table, maybe with a glass of red wine and some mellow music playing on Spotify, muscling through the language and structure of my story. It’s where I always try to be in this season, sometimes more successfully than not. This year, I hope for great consistency and steady forward progress. Wish me luck!

And, beyond the writing, I’ve been continuing to walk. There have been a few new places: hikes in the Catskill Mountains of New York, a towpath along the Susquehanna River in Maryland, a new walking path a few miles away from where I live. But otherwise I’m in my familiar park, looping through my neighborhood, sometimes pacing back and forth in my apartment when my legs are feeling itchy (ahh, these cold and short winter days!).

Catskills Mountains, NY

On the horizon, well, there’s just more of the same. In an effort to save money for a desperately-needed new(ish) car, it’s doubtful that I’ll be taking off for any long-distance walking adventures in the springtime (but my memories of the Hadrian’s Wall trip last spring are such happy ones, and I’ve already done a good deal of research on hikes in Ireland for the springtime. For now this is just wishful thinking, and Ireland in the spring will probably have to wait at least another year).

But even as I’m staying put for the immediate future, there’s always the summer to dream about. Ahh, these have been such fun dreams. It’s all but certain that I’ll be returning for a 4th (!!) trip to La Muse, my writer’s retreat in a small French mountain village. If I hadn’t made such good connections in these past two years I don’t know if I would have returned again so soon, but more and more I realize that I’ve been craving community. And I’ve had this incredible fortune of finding an artistic community of people I adore, and we have this really special and beautiful place we can return to and reunite in. Several of my friends are returning this summer, and I can’t resist the pull to return with them.  And even though I seem to do more hiking and sitting-on-the-terrace-talking-and-wine-drinking than I do writing on these retreats, I think it is good that I’m giving myself the space and time to work on my projects. If I can continue to move forward with my book in these next months, then I just might be able to have a workable draft ready to send out by the end of the summer. Maybe.

A friend from the retreat has suggested a quick trip to the Italian Dolomites after our stay at La Muse, full of hiking and good food, and this is very, very appealing. (Do any of you know anything about the Dolomites? This would be a new area for me and I’m curious to hear of your experiences!).

And then, of course, I want to do some long-distance walking. Maybe some part of a Camino, maybe a trek through England (there are several I have my eye on). There’s still a lot to be figured out, but this is the fun part, when everything is a possibility, and I can research and look through photos and try to figure out what I most want to do. I’m lucky, very lucky, to be in this position.

Autumn walk

Other updates:

-I’m still loving my Nadine Walks Instagram account. I try to post a photo every day, all of my favorites from my past-treks and Camino’s. Right now I’m still posting about my walk on the Camino del Norte, from 2015 & 2016. If you have Instagram and haven’t followed this account, please come over!

-The e-book I published two months ago, ‘After the Camino’, is still around. It was such a fun experience to put together a book and share it with people, and I hope that more travelers and pilgrims will continue to find it.

-Have you heard about #walk1000miles? It’s a free challenge that was created by Country Walking, a top-selling magazine in the UK. I think it’s been around for at least a few years, and it encourages walkers to sign up and join a larger community of people who are all trying to walk 1,000 miles in a year. It’s easy to join and is all honesty-based, so all you have to do is track your miles. There’s a very interactive and supportive Facebook group and check-ins throughout the year, which all helps with motivation and encouragement. Even though I’m not in the UK, I signed up and thought it would be a lot of fun to track my miles for 2018. I know a lot of you reading this could be interested in the challenge, so here’s the link… we can do this together!

-Finally, I decided to try to use some affiliate links on this blog. I’m not sure that it’s really something that will be worthwhile for me and for what I do here, but occasionally I talk about the gear that I use on my walks and I love to recommend stuff that has worked for me (like, for instance, my Keen shoes. I will probably never stop talking about how much I love them). So if I use an affiliate link (like I did above with the Keens), and if you click through and end up purchasing that product (or, since this is the Amazon affiliate program, any product you purchase after following my link), a very small percentage of the cost will come to me (and at absolutely no cost to you!). If I make $10.00 I think I will be lucky, and I promise you that I will use that money to buy a coffee and sit somewhere nice and work on a blog post. Any more than $10.00 and I will use it to support this site and my walks. Look for a holiday pilgrim/walker gift guide coming soon! And then I’ll probably forget that I ever signed up for this affiliate thing.

Thanks for staying with me and continuing to read, and if you have a minute, leave a comment and let me know what you’ve been up to in the past few months. Happy holidays, happy winter, and all my best. I’ll be back soon.

Sunset late-autumn walk

11 Comments / Filed In: Writing
Tagged: blogging, France, hiking, Instagram, photography, solo female travel, travel, walking, winter, writing

Paris of My Dreams

August 4, 2017

I arrived in Paris in my hiking clothes: long green pants that zip off at the knee, a t-shirt over a tank top, my good socks, my sturdy and quite worn in shoes. I wore my pack, too, and over my right shoulder was a small duffel bag, all the extra clothes and items I’d needed for the writer’s retreat I’d just left.

I felt just a little strange, and nervous. My walking stick, which I’d carried for the last 34 days, had been left behind at La Muse; tucked away in the corner of a basement room where, hopefully, I might be able to find it again. My loaded pack felt heavy, though it was a weight that I had gotten used to just weeks before, as I hiked through the Chemin du Puy. Already, I was out of practice.

But I wasn’t in Paris to be a hiker or a walker, was I? I thought that maybe I was here to continue my writer’s retreat but I wasn’t sure about that, either.

All I knew were, well, three things:

1. I missed those full days of walking, and part of me wished that instead of a week in Paris, I had organized a week long trek somewhere new and exciting.

2. I missed La Muse. I missed Homer and the way he would bound up to me and then bound away, dancing in a circle when he knew we were going for a hike. I missed, already, my room with the big window and the view of the mountains, I missed the friends that I’d made, the little writer’s community we’d formed.

3. I love Paris. I really, really love Paris.

But why was I spending a week in the city, alone? What was I going to accomplish here? I already know Paris, at least I know the things that tourists know: where to get a hot crêpe and what the view from the top of Notre Dame looks like, how to find the room with the Van Gogh’s in the Musée d’Orsay and how to open the door of a car on the metro.

I’d spent time in Paris at least a half dozen times during the year I studied abroad in Toulouse, and in the last 4 years, have spent between 1-4 days in Paris every summer. It’s become a regular thing, a mandatory swing through Paris when I’m in Europe. Sometimes all I have to do is buy a baguette and walk down the streets of the Île de St Louis and come upon Notre Dame and stare up in wonder.

Now I was in Paris and I had an entire week and I wondered: am I going to continue to be in love with this city? Am I going to become restless? Will I wish I were somewhere else?

Here are the answers: Yes. No. No.

My days in Paris didn’t exactly have a routine, though I suppose in some ways, little ways, they did. I’d wake up between 7 and 8am, though sometimes if I was awake in the 6 o’clock hour I’d roll out of bed and walk onto my balcony to see if there was a good sunrise. Several times, there was.

Once I was up for good I’d spoon some coffee into the little stove top expresso maker and then take a shower, toweling off just as the coffee was ready. There was a small fridge in the “kitchen” of my place and on my first day I’d stocked it with some essentials: yogurt, fruit, cheese, meat. I’d have a small bowl of yogurt with my coffee and flip through a guidebook and come up with ideas for the day.

Around 9, sometimes earlier, I would set out. The city is quiet in the morning, even at 9 many places are just beginning to think about opening, the tables start to go out in front of the cafes, brooms sweep leaves and trash off the pavement and sometimes I’d pass men or women hosing off the sidewalk in front of their shops. Trash trucks drove up and down the streets, bottles would crash and shatter as recycling bins were emptied.

Usually, the first thing I’d do was stop for another coffee, or a croissant. I found a few cafés that weren’t traditionally French but featured pretty decent coffee, and a few cafés with mediocre coffee and a lot of French charm.


After coffee I would always head off somewhere, walking through the streets, never using the metro (not in the morning, anyway). I went to art museums: the Musée d’Orsay, Espace Dali, the Musée de l’Orangerie, the Musée Rodin. I explored the arrondissements, the neighborhoods: the 5th, the 3rd, the 14th, the 17th, the 6th and 7th, the 3rd and 4th, the 20th. The Latin Quarter, St-Germain, Montparnasse, the Marais, Montmartre.




And more. I walked everywhere. I almost don’t want to write this because it seems absurd, but on two separate days I walked 20km through the city. 20km! Around and around and around.


But I used the metro, too, I love the metro. Even in the summer when it is hot down there in those winding corridors, when the smell is so distinct, it’s a smell that screams to me: “This is Paris. THIS is Paris.” But the metro can take you anywhere, and on the streets you will always find one, there seems to be one at every other turn.

I went to bookshops, and I bought books. I read books, too, in back rooms of the cafés, with a noisette or a flat white (the coffee that is taking over Paris, apparently), and I’d sit and arrange myself on a wooden stool and I would open my book and read.


A few times, I met up with friends: for dinner in a bistrot, for a picnic by the Seine, for a glass of champagne to celebrate my birthday. We shopped for picnic supplies in La Grande Epicerie, a place I’d never been to before and I went back two days later to pick up food for lunches or dinners on my balcony: double crème brie, eggplant and yogurt dip, octopus and prawns and mussels marinated in olive oil, crispy baguettes, fresh raspberries.


I discovered new places: a covered market where I bought hot fries in a newspaper cone, a street market that I walked up and down three times, just to watch the vendors and listen to the sounds. I bought a bottle of wine from a little shop, a chunk of cheese from another.

Parks and cemeteries and canals and squares: I spent a lot of time in outdoor spaces. Jardin du Luxembourg (twice, because it was a 15 minute walk from my apartment), Père Lachaise (twice, because the first time I got turned around and had to leave to meet a friend before I could find Oscar Wilde’s grave. I’ve seen it before- two or three times at least- but it’s like a visit I have to make whenever I’m in Paris. I’m not even sure why, because I’m not a particular fan of Oscar Wilde… I just know that I have to do it). And what else? The Canal Saint-Martin and the Promenade Plantée, the Place des Vosges and the Place de la Contrescarpe. Parc de Belleville.




So many things, all of this and more. But I also spent time in that little apartment of mine- for afternoon catnaps and a glass of wine in the evening, sitting on my balcony and looking out over the rooftops. At 10pm, and again at 11 and again at midnight, thousands of lights on the Eiffel Tower flash and blink, the tower sparkles for 5 minutes and I could see it from my balcony and every night I was home I would stand outside and watch.


Home. That apartment and even Paris, a little bit, began to feel like home. My friend Alex, an Australian writer I’d met at La Muse last summer, moved to Paris in March. She signed a 6-month lease but always intended to stay for at least a year, and when I talked with her about it, her eyes started to shine. “If  I can swing it, I want to stay for at least 2 years, maybe 3.”

I asked her a lot of questions about what it had been like to move to Paris, to live in Paris, if the language barrier was a problem, if the cultural barrier was a problem. She told me about a French course she took, how she connected with other expats, her favorite things to do, the site she used to find her apartment.

And I began to dream. What if I could do this? I have an entire life somewhere else but the thing is, I’ve been dreaming about Paris ever since I was 20, from the moment I first laid eyes on the city. And Paris, after all this time, is still a beautiful dream. It’s the city of my dreams.

7 different people asked me for directions during my week in Paris; some of them were tourists but some were French, one- an old lady- might even have been a Parisian. I could only give an answer to one of them, a French guy, and I answered with a smile and with an assurance. I’d understood his question, I knew where we were and where he wanted to go, and I could give a response, in French.

After a week in the city I was beginning to feel like I knew where I was, where I was going. Could I ever have more time like this? More than just a few days, more than a week? Could I live here for a few months, half a year? An entire year?

In my dreams, yes. And if I continue to write and work and aim high and big, if I take chances and with a little (or a lot) of luck, I might just be able to live out my dreams.

But, that’s one of my castles in the air and it’s a beautiful one but for now I’ll be grateful for what is right in front of me: the magical week I just spent in a city that I love, the work it took to get myself there, the chances that I’ve already taken in life, the persistance of my dreams for where they’ve already taken me.

And Paris will always be there. Whether for a few days or a week or a month, a year or a lifetime; it will always be there.

4 Comments / Filed In: France, Inspiration, solo-female travel, Travel, Writing
Tagged: adventure, art, artists, beauty, food, France, goals, inspiration, journey, life, Paris, photography, solo-female travel, summer, travel, writing

Taking Pictures in Spain: How I Capture my #VantagePoint

January 14, 2017

This is going to be a post entirely about photography. I suppose it’s been a long time coming; even though the whole idea behind this blog was to write, I have always considered the photographs I include here to be a big part of the stories I tell.

I walk, a lot. I also take a lot of photos. And this blog gets all the best photographs. Well, it gets a few of the not-so-great ones as well, but I’m careful to pick my favorites to showcase here. And picking the favorites means sorting through dozens and dozens of not-so-great photos. For every one great photo, there are probably 50 mediocre ones behind it. And this is how I take photos as I travel, as I walk across Spain:  dozens of okay shots, and then one that’s a cut above the rest.

Tree against water, Camino del Norte

But I love taking the photos, the good ones and the bad ones. Pictures are so much a part of the routine of my travels, and a lot of the time, they are such a big part of the routine of my life. I’ve been holding a camera in my hands for a steady 20 years now, and somewhere along the way, I developed a photographer’s eye. This can mean a lot of things to a lot of different people but here’s what it means to me: dozens of times a day (every single day), I will pause for a fraction of a second and say to myself- “Snap.” I take mental pictures all day long, as if I were holding a camera up to my eye. I sit in an office and talk to teenagers and sometimes I notice the way they are leaning on the arm of a couch and how a gray light is coming in through the window and touching the sleeve of their shirt and the tips of their ears and I think, “Oh, this would be a beautiful photograph.”

I do this all the time. My eyes have become trained to see photographs in the world around me, I see these photographs automatically. I notice light and shade and lines and perspective and shadow and color.

Fall in Ridley Creek State Park

So on all these travels I’ve been doing lately, I have the freedom to whip out a camera whenever I see one of these “mental” pictures. The photos move out of my mind and onto the lens of my camera and I can capture them, just about whenever I want. And how lucky to be walking through some very beautiful places, too! If a day’s walk has taken me longer than it normally does, it is probably not because of a blister or tired legs; more than not, it is because I’ve stopped to take so many photographs.

Walking a Camino in Spain or trekking through Scotland on the West Highland Way means, of course, that I’m carrying all of my things on my back. As I was planning for my first Camino, I seriously considered lugging along my old Pentax SLR and taking dozens of rolls of black and white shots along the way. I love that camera, I’ve had it since I was 15 and it was probably the most difficult packing decision I had to make, to decide to leave it behind.

That’s me, taking photos in France!

What did I bring instead? My iPhone. On the Camino Frances and the Camino del Norte, I also brought along a small digital point-and-shoot that a friend let me borrow, but I rarely used it. The iPhone was just too convenient; it sat in my pocket all day long, and I could easily pull it out, swipe the screen and snap a photo all with one hand. Sometimes I didn’t even need to break my stride!

So the majority of the photos you’ve seen on this blog have been taken with an iPhone, and so far, it’s worked really well for me. But every year as I plan a new trip, I dream about the camera equipment that could be part of my pack. What if I did bring along that old SLR? What if I bought myself a brand new DSLR? What if I researched one of the mirrorless cameras I’ve been hearing so much about? And then, there’s this: cutting-edge technology that’s creating DSLR-like images from a camera the size of a small point-and-shoot. The very best of both worlds!

The camera I’m talking about comes from a company called Light, and if you’re at all interested in photography it’s worth checking out their site. This post I’m writing now, in fact, is part of their #VantagePoint project, where bloggers talk about their favorite locations to shoot and the steps they take to create their best photographs from those locations.

I have to say, I jumped at the chance to write about how I take photographs, and more than bringing awareness to the L16 camera that Light is developing (though I’m always a fan of spreading information that I care about), I’m excited to share some tips with you guys, my readers.

I thought about my favorite places to take photographs and of course my summer treks through Spain were the first things to come to mind. And more specifically, I thought about how I’ve tried to capture shots of ‘the path’. Here is one of my very favorite photos:

Sunrise and tree on Camino Primitivo

I adore this photo. And I never would have captured it if I didn’t take the time to stop walking, turn around, and look behind me. So this is one of my best tips, actually, when taking photographs: don’t forget to look behind you. Don’t forget to look up or down, either, swing to your right and to your left, turn in circles and keep your eyes opened.

On this particular morning, I was walking through the mountains on the Camino Primitivo, a route that runs through the north of Spain. The morning was a little misty and foggy, a thin layer of dew coated the grass. The air was soft and cool but I could feel the rising sun warming my back and I think it was when I could feel the sun’s warmth that I decided to turn around. The sun was like a fireball in the sky, a giant orb that glowed and burned. I’m sure this was the effect of the clouds and the fog, maybe how the sun was rising over the top of a mountain in the distance. But whatever was happening seemed magical.

I didn’t know if I would be able to get a good photo of it all, however. You know how sometimes you see a beautiful moon in the sky, or a rainbow, or an incredible sunset and you know that no matter what you do, the photo won’t be as good as what you’re seeing with your eye? I worried that this was the case.

I took a string of photographs anyway, to see what I could do. It’s tricky, shooting into the sun, but in this case the fog and the tree were obscuring the sunlight enough that it worked. And lets talk about that tree. I moved down the path, away from the tree, until it was positioned just right in my frame. I took a few steps to the side and then I crouched down until the tree was in the distance, the lines of the fence glinted in the light and I had just enough blue sky for balance. I didn’t want the tree in the exact center of the frame although I suppose that could have worked; but instead, I used both the tree and the glowing sun as my center point.

This was my #VantagePoint. The steps to getting this photograph were, all in all, fairly simple. Keep your eyes open. Turn around and look behind you. Try out different angles and positions. Take several photographs until you get one that works.

I can’t wait to keep traveling and to keep taking photographs. On one of these trips, I may add a new camera and see if I can get even better shots (I have so much to learn) or maybe I’ll just keep using an iPhone but in either case, I know that I’ll continue to take pictures. Lots and lots of pictures.

What kind of camera do you use on your travels? Would you add the L16 to your wishlist? Do you have a favorite place to take photographs?

 

12 Comments / Filed In: Inspiration, Photography, Travel
Tagged: #vantagepoint, camera, Camino de Santiago, hiking, L16, photography, Spain, technology, walking

Memorable Moments of 2016

December 30, 2016

I always get reflective at this time of the year. For years I would journal on the very last day of the calendar year, looking back and reminding myself of all that I’d done (or hadn’t done), what went well in the year, what hadn’t. And then I’d set my sights forward, making lists of goals and resolutions and plans. A new year has always had a touch of magic to it: I still love the idea that I’m starting from a blank slate, that I hold the pen that writes in the story of my next 12 months.

But before we can get to the future, lets look back at the past! I’ve never written a ‘best of’ post, have I? In any case, I’ve been thinking about all that I’ve done this year, and I thought it could be fun to do a round-up here on this blog, going month to month. There were some things that went wrong, maybe some months where it felt like I didn’t do too much, but I’m going to keep this post happy and positive. These are my memorable moments of 2016, along with some of my favorite photos. (And, in case you don’t make it to the end of this post: a great big thank you to all of you. I’m still astounded that there is anyone at all who reads this blog, much less people who have been coming back for years now. My blogging slowed down this year, but I don’t see myself stopping anytime soon. If anything, I want to make blogging a more regular part of my routine for 2017, so I hope you’ll stick around).

January

Desert Rose Winery, VirginiaBilly Goat Trail, Montgomery County, MD

I kicked off the year in Washington DC, a place I visited multiple times in 2016. I have several very good friends who live in or around the city and so I find myself there a lot: for art museums, baseball games, concerts. And I ended the month in Fort Royal, Virginia, where I met up with a friend for a winter weekend of wine tasting. But aside from these trips, the month was cold, and quiet. I made a few trips into Philly to hunt down the city’s best coffee shops, but otherwise I was tucked into my apartment and doing the tough, but gratifying work of writing my memoir.

February

Baking breadWinter walk on the Delaware & Raritan Canal Towpath

Another cold, winter month and the few photos I took reveal simple activities: I wrote, I hit more coffee shops, I baked bread, I went on a few long walks when the sun came out.

March

Wall of art at the Barnes Foundation, PhiladelphiaCampsite on Cumberland Island, Georgia

More walks! More coffee! Art museums in Philly are pay what you wish on the first Sunday of the month, and at least once I year I get into the city to see my favorite works at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. This year I waited in a long line to get free tickets into the Barnes Foundation, a museum that holds an extensive collection of post-impressionist and early modern paintings. It’s an outstanding collection, and I can’t think of a better way to spend a winter Sunday than in the gallery of an art museum.

This month also held my first big trip of the year: a four-day camping excursion on Cumberland Island in the state of Georgia. It was an adventure, to be sure: I’d never been camping on my own before, and never for more than one night. I bought myself a new sleeping bag, a little camp stove, and loaded up my car and drove 12 hours down to Georgia. I took a ferry out to the island and crossed my fingers that this camping thing would work out. And it did. The weather was stunning, I explored all over the island, saw wild horses and armadillos and the ruins of old mansions.

April

Hiking with friends, MarylandWalk along the Delware & Raritan Canal

The weather began to get nicer this month, so I took advantage and was outside as much as possible. I went on a far-too-long walk along the Delaware & Raritan Canal (I think it was about 18 miles? My feet were throbbing at the end and I had a small blister forming on the ball of my foot but it was a good to get back outside), spent a weekend in Frederick, MD with good friends, spent time with my family and kept chipping away at my writing.

May

Spring blossomsMemorial Day in Ohio

I usually love the month of May but this year it seemed like it rained constantly. Did the sun come out at all? My pictures show beautiful days only at the end of the month, when I drove out to Cleveland over Memorial Day weekend to visit my sister. When it wasn’t raining I spent as much time as I could at my local park, hiking on the trails and getting ready for my summer adventures.

June

Wedding shower detailsMe and Jane at the Jane Austen Centre in Bath, England

The end of work, baseball games, beach trips, hiking, a bridal shower for a good friend. And at the very end of the month, I set off for my 7-week summer in Europe, which I kicked off in Bath, England. I spent a day wandering through the city, finding my travel legs, and hanging out with Jane Austen.

July

Me and Homer at La Muse, FranceCamino way-marking on the San Salvador

It’s hard to pick the highlights from the month of July: on the 1st of the month I was at Stonehenge, on the 31st of the month I was dragging myself into Oviedo to finish the Camino de San Salvador. In between I had three mostly glorious weeks at La Muse, the writer’s and artist’s retreat in the south of France. If I had to pick a favorite moment from the month it would probably be sitting up at Le Roc with Homer, looking out over the mountains surrounding Labastide.

August

Picnic lunch on the Camino del Norte

Look how dirty my leg is!!

Glencoe, West Highland Way, Scotland

Lots more walking to do this month! I started things off with 9 days on the Camino del Norte, then spent a week in Scotland, hiking the West Highland Way. Both trips were incredible, but by the end I felt ready to come home and spend the last month of summer with family and friends.

September

Sunset at Nationals Park, Washington DCOfficating a wedding

I checked an item off my bucket list this month: I officiated the wedding of two good friends! Afterwards I joked that I might make this officiating-weddings-thing a side-gig (anyone need someone to marry them?), but all joking aside, it was an incredible experience. The rest of the month was about transitioning back into work and enjoying the fading days of summer with long hikes and a couple trips to DC.

October

Louisa May Alcott's desk, Concord MAWalden Pond, Concord MA

My mom and I took a little trip up to Concord, Massachusetts to see Walden Pond and (most importantly) Orchard House, which is the long-time home of Louisa May Alcott. I wasn’t supposed to take any photos inside but when no one was looking I snapped a photo of the desk where Alcott wrote Little Women. It’s my favorite book of all time, and after the trip I felt re-energized and excited about getting back into my own writing.

November

Jefferson's Rock, Harper's Ferry, WVALa Muse reunion in Bryant Park, NYC

November had a couple weekend trips: one down to Maryland and Virginia and West Virginia- with a quick hike in Shenandoah National Park and a visit to Harper’s Ferry, and a day trip up to NYC to reunite with a couple friends from my summer at La Muse. There was election day madness and a relaxing trip home for Thanksgiving, and lots of walks and hiking as I took advantage of some mild fall weather.

December

Winter walkRecipe book and apples

This has been a quiet month. I’ve seen friends, baked lots of cookies, and spent the holidays with my family. Since my summer travels I’ve really struggled to get back into my writing, but I think I’ve set myself up with a good plan for the next few months. I’m ready to get into a new year, and I’m ready to see what I can accomplish in 2017. 2016 was, overall, a fine year, but now it’s time for something even bigger and greater.

Happy New Year, my friends, and I will see you all soon!

Leave a Comment / Filed In: Inspiration, Photography, Travel, Writing
Tagged: 2016, art, baseball, blogging, France, goals, hiking, life, photography, Scotland, Spain, travel, walking, writing

A Rather Unrealistic Wish-List for my Second Camino

June 1, 2015

I’m just over two weeks away from leaving for my second pilgrimage, this time on the Camino del Norte/Camino Primitivo. Two weeks!! Sometime before I leave I’ll post a map of my route(s); I always meant to do it last year and it was probably one of the most asked questions by my family and friends: “Where in Spain will you be walking?” My guidebook should be arriving any day now, and then I’ll have a better sense of where I’ll be walking. Someone, it might have been my mom, seemed a little surprised that I would be bringing a guidebook. “Didn’t you have a great experience after you lost your guidebook last time?” And I did- I practiced letting go of planning, I learned to fully embrace the openness and possibility of my days in a way that I wasn’t quite able to when following a guide.

But at times, I missed the Brierley guide that directed me along the Camino Frances. I missed learning about the detours (which I loved taking), I missed being able to read up on albergues, I missed learning some of the history of the places I was walking through. So for this walk I’m going to use a guide, and I’m going to do my best to make sure I don’t accidentally leave it in the folds of a blanket on my bunk bed. I’d still like to follow the same approach that I learned on last year’s Camino: walk until I’m tired or, walk until I stumble upon a beautiful place. There are some things I’d like to plan (already I have a couple albergues that I’d like to check out), but more than anything I want to leave my days open to chance and possibility.

Along those lines, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what else I’d like from this year’s Camino. It’s a big topic, and I’m still processing last year’s pilgrimage: the things I wanted, the things I received, the things that surprised me, the things I was learning. I think that more than anything, I want to be very open to this experience, and to whatever it brings. That’s the third time I’ve used this word- open- in this post. Maybe because this second pilgrimage feels so wide open. I already know what a Camino is like, there aren’t quite as many question marks, not the same kind of fears and anxieties. But I’m also not clear on what I want, which leaves the possibilities open: Do I want to form deep bonds and find a Camino family that I stick with until the end? Or do I want to be totally free and unattached, able to walk as much or as little as I want on any given day? I wanted both of these things, often simultaneously, on last year’s Camino. I still didn’t quite have it figured out when I arrived in Santiago, and I felt like I needed at least another 500 miles to find my answers.

Putting the bigger questions aside for a moment, lets talk about some of the things I’m dreaming about for this second Camino. I already have some guarantees: I know that I’m going to meet some incredible people. I know I’m going to savor those mugs of café con leche and glasses of vino tinto. I know I’m going to love waking up every day and putting on my shoes and walking. But now lets talk about the dreams, the fantasies, the things that could happen but probably won’t but (who knows) maybe will…

1. Making it to Muxia

Emma, the Canadian-born, London-based friend we made on the way to Finisterre last year, said it best: “Five years ago, walking to Santiago was the end. And Finisterre was like this little secret that not everyone knew about. Now, walking to Finisterre is the end. And adding on a day to get to Muxia is the secret that not everyone knows about.” Muxia is a small coastal town about 30km from Finisterre and today, indeed, many pilgrims walk here, in addition to Finisterre, after arriving in Santiago. Muxia is part of the ‘Costa de la Muerte’ (Coast of Death), named after the many shipwrecks resulting from its rocky coastline, and it is beautiful. At least, that’s what I heard from friends who made the trek last year. Because of timing, I could only walk to Finisterre, but I wished I had extra time to make it to Muxia as well.

And this year? Getting to Muxia is a pipe dream. I have exactly 31 days to walk, and that’s not exactly a long time for the roughly 840km between my starting point of Irun and my ending point of Santiago. At best, I might be able to make the journey in 30 days, giving me a day to bus over to Muxia, but I’m not sure that’s how I’d want to do it. I really think I’d like to walk to Muxia, and that’s a minimum 3-day journey from Santiago.

But who knows- maybe if I’m totally going at my own speed, not attaching myself to anyone and feeling really strong, I’ll walk some long days, and get to Santiago way ahead of schedule. Maybe.

2. Taking black and white photographs along the way

I considered this before last year’s Camino: should I lug my old and heavy SLR camera and a dozen rolls of film over 500 miles in order to take some nice photographs? Ultimately I decided not to, and it was a good decision. But this time? Oh man, I’d LOVE to have that old camera with me. I’d love to have several rolls of film from this trip, to one day be able to make a few beautiful black and white prints that I could frame and hang on my wall. Or print enough to have a small exhibit somewhere… (I’ve been so focused on writing lately, but the photography dreams are always lurking just beneath the surface).

And speaking of writing…

3. Blogging every day

Blogging on last year’s Camino gave me so much joy, and continues to give me joy when I go back and read through my posts. But I just couldn’t do it all: couldn’t walk the long days AND spend time with the people I’d met AND explore the towns AND blog every day. But this Camino is a different Camino, and I just might have more time on my hands. Unless #4 happens…

4. Meeting a Javier Bardem look-alike in Oveido

Ha! Last night I watched Woody Allen’s Vicky Cristina Barcelona (a movie that I never seem to tire of), and I paid close attention to the scenes in Oviedo, a city that I will be walking through/staying in if I detour from the Norte to the Primitivo. Maybe the Camino will offer up some good-looking Spanish/European men again this year…

So that’s my wish-list for now. Along with perfect weather, lots of opportunities to lounge on the beach, and perfectly placed café con leche stops.

I think the reality is going to be just a bit different… but only two and a half more weeks until I find out!

Hiking in Ridley Creek State Park

Only time for a few more training hikes…

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Tagged: Camino de Santiago, camino del norte, dreams, hiking, Javier Bardem, Muxia, photography, pilgrimage, possibilities, Spain, travel, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, walking, Woody Allen, writing

Bread and the Beatles- Photo(s) of the Week #8 and #9

April 20, 2015

How many ‘photos of the week’ have I missed? I’m thinking back to these past weeks and wondering where the days have gone. This is what always happens in the spring; the days grow a little longer and a little warmer and suddenly time disappears. I feel like I’m in catch-up mode right now, trying to get myself back on track with all of the things that have fallen a bit behind: practicing Spanish, hiking, preparing for the next Camino, writing.

I was keeping up, until all of a sudden I wasn’t. But this always seems to happen- just when everything comes together, life hits, and the routines vanish. But I’m lucky to be able to say that the things that have derailed me are all good: small trips and holidays and time with family and friends (and, well, a too-tight hiking shoe that caused my right foot to ache and resulted in a break from Camino training. Just when I thought I would have absolutely no trouble with footwear for this Camino!).

So here are a few photos. The first is all about bread: I help my mom bake her traditional paska recipe for Easter, and this year I did 95% of the kneading. My memories of paska making go back to childhood: my mom working her hands through the mound of sticky dough, the all-day process, the tall, golden brown loaves. I’ve done a lot of the kneading these past few years, and it always feels so satisfying: picking up the dough as it spills over the edges of my hands, folding it, throwing it, molding it. But this year was different, there was nothing satisfying about it. The dough was sticky. It was sticky like the heavy paska dough of my memories, the kind of dough that causes stress.

“It needs more flour!” I kept saying to my mom.

“No,” she shook her head. “Just keep working it.”

I should have trusted her, she’s been making this bread for over 30 years. But I kept asking, kept saying that I thought something was wrong. I also kept kneading the sticky mass, the dough coating my hands like an extra layer of skin. My face was red, my hair was falling into my face, at one point I was short of breath.

But in the end, she was right. The bread didn’t need more flour. It was perfect.

Easter paska

And the next photo is all about music. When I was 16, my mom, sister and I went to see Ringo and his All-Starr Band. At the time, I was at the height of my Beatles obsession, and Ringo was my favorite. We got to the venue early and as soon as I saw others carrying signs and banners, I instantly wished that I’d made one myself. So we rooted around in the car and found a manilla folder and I wrote RINGO in large block letters with a blue sharpie.

Later, during the concert, I stood and held up the sign. Ringo looked out in my direction, smiled, and pointed at me. “You’re 16,” he sang, “you’re beautiful, and you’re mine.” This still goes down as my very top concert/music moment.

This past weekend I was in Cleveland to see the Rock Hall Induction Ceremony. I was there, once again, with my mom and my sister, and I was there to see Ringo.

And despite more engaging speeches and more dynamic performances from other artists, the highlight was still Ringo. My grin stretched from ear to ear as I watched him, sitting at his drum kit, banging away with his head bobbing from side to side. Paul McCartney was there, too, playing his guitar and supplying background vocals- it’s as close to the Beatles as I’ll ever get.

The music felt timeless, I felt like I was 16 again.

2015 Rock Hall Induction Ceremony

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Tagged: baking, Beatles, concert, Easter, family, music, paska, photography, Ringo, Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

Photo of the Week #7: A Return to Hiking!

April 5, 2015

A few weeks ago I drove out to my trusty state park to check out the conditions of the trails, and found that they were still covered in snow. And because I’m not a fan of walking over snow and ice, I’ve been sticking to a 4-mile paved trail that runs in a loop around the park. It’s a nice option for outdoor walking, but it’s just not the same as a wooded trail. I was anxious to get back into the woods, so to speak.

And this week felt like a turning point. It helped that I spent the first part of the week in western Virginia, where the weather was a little warmer and there were mountains almost at my doorstep. I took advantage of this beautiful area of the country and went on a few hikes: the first, an 8+ miler to a decent overlook, and the second, a 3+ miler straight up a mountain to a 360 panoramic view of the countryside (this is the hike that tortured my legs).

This part of the state is home to a section of the Appalachian Trail. Hiking the AT isn’t something that I think I’ll be doing any time soon, if at all, and yet… every time I’m on the trail or near the trail, I think about what it would be like to spend 6 months walking through the woods. There’s something immensely appealing about it- to spend all of that time almost entirely in nature. Moving slowly up a country (not unlike what I’ve done on the Camino, just a much greater distance), carrying not only my possessions on my back but also my food and my home… and doing nothing but walking. The Camino was such a great accomplishment, and I can’t even imagine what it must feel like to walk the entirety of the Appalachian Trail.

But for all of the trail’s appeal, there’s a lot about it that doesn’t appeal to me. Namely, wildlife. Specifically, bears. And snakes. And anything that moves during the night. And the fact that I can’t routinely pass through towns and indulge in cups of coffee and glasses of wine. So for now, I’ll stick with the Camino.

In any case, my 8-mile hike this week found me on the Appalachian Trail, but just for a mile or two. I was hiking the John’s Creek Mountain Trail- or at least, I was trying to. Supposedly, I would be on the trail for about 3.5 miles and then link up to the AT, where I would hike for another mile over to Kelly’s Knob, a ridge offering a decent view of the New River Valley. Except I couldn’t find the trailhead for the John’s Creek Mountain Trail. I drove up and down the mountain roads until I finally pulled over in a clearing that led to a wide, flat, dirt covered track. The track meandered up the mountainside at a very slight incline, and a sign indicated that no motorized vehicles were allowed through, but that foot travel was welcome.

After a few miles I came across an orange blazed trail, and for once my navigational instincts were correct: I turned right on the trail (which was indeed John Creek’s Mountain Trail), and after a mile hit the Appalachian Trail. I’m not sure where I went wrong and missed the trailhead, but I’m glad that I did. The mountain track was an easy way to start the hike, and as it wound around the mountain, I was frequently treated to beautiful views and blue skies.

So here’s the photo of the week, from what felt like my first real hike of the year:

Somewhere near John's Creek Mountain Hike

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Tagged: Appalachian Trail, hiking, John's Creek Mountain Trail, Kelly's Knob, photography, spring, travel, Viriginia, walking

Photo of the Week #6: Steak-frites!

March 28, 2015

Today finds me in a warm Panera Bread cafe, on a cold day in western Virginia. I’m here for a mini spring-break trip to visit my best friend, and last year around this time I was treated to sunny skies and 60-70 degree days. Just now, at 11am, it is 25 degrees. I’m not amused. No one is.

Last Saturday, however, was pretty beautiful. I was in DC visiting another friend, and at one point we sat on a bench with a view of the Capitol to our left, the Washington Monument to our right, and the warm sun on our faces. My photo(s) this week come from that trip- a weekend of good food, good coffee, good wine and good bread. And some art.

steak frites, le diplomate, washington dc

Steak-frites at Le Diplomate, a French restaurant in DC. As I took my first bite, I realized that this is a meal I’ve never actually had in France, and I promised myself that I would change that this summer, during the day I have in Paris at the end of my trip.

Union Market, Washington DC

A “gourmet” food hall with a stall selling some of the best bread I’ve had outside of France (there seemed to be an unintentional French theme to the weekend…)

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Tagged: food, France, photography, steak frites, travel, Washington DC

Photo of the Week #5: Snow Walks and Green Bagels

March 22, 2015

Another photo of the week! This goes back to last Sunday (so… I guess that was the start of my ‘photo of the week’ week? I’m not really sure how I’m measuring these weeks, but I suppose it doesn’t matter too much).

I joined the Philadelphia Chapter of APOC (American Pilgrims on the Camino); I’ll write more about this in a future post, but for now I wanted to share a photo from the hike I joined them on last Sunday. It was the longest day of walking I’ve done since the Camino- 14 miles in about 6 hours, with a few stops and breaks in between. The first few miles were the most difficult, and required us to navigate through snow and over ice; not my ideal walking/hiking conditions…

APOC walk, snow

And, for a bonus photo… the best way I can think of to celebrate St Patrick’s Day (how did you celebrate?):

Green bagel!

Green bagel!

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Tagged: APOC, bagels, Camino de Santiago, food, hiking, photography, snow, st patrick's day, walking, winter

Photo of the Week #4: ¡Hola!

March 15, 2015

Lately, my days have been filled with working, walking, writing, and when I have a few extra minutes, reciting basic Spanish phrases. I started a beginner’s Spanish class a few weeks ago; it’s an adult evening class held at the local high school, and man, it’s a bit surreal to be back in a classroom trying to learn a language. It takes me back to those awful, early days of learning French (while I love being able to speak French, I did not love the years of struggle as I tried to learn it).

But this is a bit different. Last year, on the Camino, I told myself that if I ever returned to Spain for an extended period of time, I wanted to know a little Spanish. I’m not expecting that I’ll be able to carry a conversation or even understand much of what people say to me (in fact, I know I won’t be able to accomplish this in a few months), but I am hoping that I can learn some phrases and words that will help me out on the Camino. I knew next to no Spanish while walking the Camino Frances, and resorted mostly to gesturing and smiling. And while I got by without much trouble, there were so many times that I wished I knew just a bit more. Or enough to show that I was making an effort trying to communicate in Spanish, rather than naturally resorting to English and hoping people would understand me.

So here’s my desk, my workbook, my notes. I should probably go do my homework now…

Spanish class

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Tagged: Camino de Santiago, challenges, class, language, learning, photography, Spanish, travel

Photo of the Week #3: Blue skies and dragons

March 7, 2015

My week started with blue sky and ended with blue sky, but everything in between was gray and ice and rain and snow and cold. Sunshine makes all the difference, however, and I savored my time outside this week.

Once again, I have two photos to share: the first is from a Chinese New Year’s parade through the streets of my town, and the second is from a walk around my neighborhood. One photo is all about color and movement and noise; the other is stark contrast and stillness and quiet.

A note about the second photo: I’m amazed that this was taken with my iPhone, with no enhancements, no filters, no editing. I looked up at the trees and the sky and held my phone out and snapped a photo and this is what you get. Sometimes, the world is indescribably majestic.

Chinese New Year ParadeWinter walk through my neighborhood

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Tagged: blue sky, chinese new year, landscape, photography, snow, walking, winter

Photo of the Week #1: Snowy walk

February 20, 2015

I’ve been toying with the idea of doing a ‘Photo of the Week’ on this blog, and today I’m giving it a whirl. I’ve always been interested in 365 projects: doing something every single day for a year. There was an ill-fated attempt at my own 365 photo project, and I think I only lasted three days. A photo a week might be more my speed, and will encourage me to remember to pick up my camera (or, as is increasingly the case, my iPhone) and snap a few pictures.

This week’s photo comes from one of the trails that runs through the woods behind my apartment. We finally got a little snow this week, and despite the temperatures being below freezing, I bundled up and went out for a walk. Tramping through the snow I passed kids with sleds, and an elderly neighbor on his cross-country skis. The air was brisk, the sky was a robin’s egg blue, and it felt good to move my legs after days of being cooped up inside.

A few weeks ago I found a blog called A Winter Camino and saw some incredible photos of the Camino Francés covered in snow. You won’t be finding me doing a winter Camino any time soon (or, ever), but there is so much beauty in walking through freshly fallen snow.

So here’s my favorite photo from my winter-y walk. Has anyone else ever tried a photo project? Or done something every single day for a year? Anyone else out walking in the snow these days?

Photo of Week #1: Snowy Walk

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Tagged: exercise, hiking, photo of the week, photography, snow, walking, winter

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