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Nadine Walks

stories of trekking and travel

December Recap: Winter is Coming

December 31, 2020

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

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

Dusky December evening, streetlight and sunset

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

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

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

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

Hiking

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

Stroud Preserve, Chester County, PA

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

View from observation tower at Mt. Gretna, Lebanon County, PA

Zooming with friends

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

  • Zooming with friends, Christmas Dinner

Snow!

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

December snow in the northeast

Reading/Watching

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


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

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

Writing

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

***

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

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

Path through the snow

3 Comments / Filed In: Writing
Tagged: game of thrones, hiking, long-distance walking, pandemic, quarantine, walking, winter, zoom

Walking in Circles

May 25, 2020

I was reading a post the other day, from my Camino buddy-in-blogging, Beth. As I read I realized how nice it was to hear her voice. I knew she wasn’t out walking in France or in Spain, but that wasn’t why I opened up the post. I just kind of wanted to hear how she was doing, if she was thinking about the Camino, if she missed walking, if she was restless or energized, in despair or filled with hope.

And then I started to wonder if maybe I should l find my way back to my own blog, and post an update of my own. ‘Update’ feels like the wrong word, because not much has been happening. I was on a family FaceTime call today, and I opened my mouth to give some news, but realized I didn’t have much to say. What has changed day-to-day? It starts to feel tedious to say that I went on another walk, I baked another cake, I read on my porch.

Quarantined porch sitting

So maybe this isn’t an update, but I’ve used this blog to write about my thoughts and feelings too, so here we are. Have I blogged at all since being under stay at home orders? I don’t think so. In fact, I think in my last post I wrote about travel considerations in the time of coronavirus, which feels a bit ridiculous now because a few weeks after I published that post, all travel shut down, just about completely.

It feels a little hard to write about travel. I didn’t go to Japan- a trip that was scheduled for the beginning of April- and I’m not going to Europe this summer, either. Well, despite my June flight having been canceled, I’m still harboring some wild hope that there could be a chance that I could sneak away to La Muse for a week in late July, or August (I know that the odds are less than slim, but I’m letting myself have this hope, because I think I need it).

cherry blossoms over Ridley Creek

I was supposed to walk in Portugal this summer, on the Camino Portuguese, but also on the Fisherman’s route, and then I would still have some time to do more walking in Spain, at least from Santiago to Finisterre, but maybe even the Camino Invierno if the timing was right. I’d given myself 40-days to walk, the most I’ve ever walked in one go, and it felt right. There have been a few years- last year in particular- when I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to do, where I wanted to travel, which route I wanted to walk. But plans seemed to fall together so easily this year. Once the idea of the Kumano Kodo in Japan lodged itself in my mind, I couldn’t shake it, and it seemed to work perfectly: an inexpensive flight, rooms booked despite the late planning, a chance to see the cherry blossoms.

I’ve always had a vague sort of sense that I’d travel to Japan ‘one day’, but it always felt so far, so difficult, so out of my league. But after I did a little research and started to see how a trip might come together, I realized that I was more than ready to tackle Japan. Again, it felt right. I was doing something new, something so exciting. And it made a decision about my summer feel easy, too: by going somewhere new in the spring, I felt free to go back to Europe to do my favorite things: walk a Camino and spend time at my writer’s retreat, La Muse. I found a perfect flight for the summer too: an unbelievable price that took me into Lisbon, and the return out of Paris. It couldn’t have been more perfect!

Bamboo curtain

To have travel canceled any year would have been a blow, but for some reason it felt particularly cruel this year (although- and I’ve thought about this a lot- does it feel worse only now that I can’t have it? I’ve always appreciated my ability to travel and the time that I have in the summers, but I wonder if it feels even sweeter, in hindsight, now that it is (temporarily) lost). But I do wonder if it feels harder this year because I felt so settled. For the last seven years, ever since I walked my first Camino, I’ve continued to return to Europe, searching for something: to push myself further, a new adventure/experience, a community. Some years, I’ve wondered if I should skip a summer of walking, and see some new countries, instead.

But I didn’t have those questions this year. I felt so confident in knowing what I wanted, confident in the life I’ve built for myself, in the things I’ve grown to love, in the community that I have built from my summers in Europe.

There are other things about these last few months that have been hard, but if I’m going to talk about anything here, it will probably be about travel. But I can’t publish this post without acknowledging that I still have a job, that my family is healthy (even my two grandmothers: 89 and 101 years old! I still worry, so if you have a moment, send a good and warm thought out for my Babas). I live alone, so I’ve been particularly isolated during this long stay-at-home order, but I can’t even really complain about that. For better or for worse, I like being alone, and video-chatting (plus a job where I spend many hours a day conferencing with teenagers) makes it not too difficult to hunker down and not see anyone. And, as I mentioned at the top of this post, I’ve been spending my days walking and reading on my porch and baking bread and cake and scones. I’ve made pesto from scavenged wild garlic mustard, and syrup from the violet petals I picked in my yard. I’ve done a few puzzles and turned myself into a Vermeer painting (this was early on in the quarantine; I thought I’d do a series, but I’ve lost some of that initial energy). I’ve also been writing every day; not in a big way, just small, daily diaries that I post to Facebook. I’m not sure how Facebook became the place where I shared my musings, but so be it. I’ve been taking photos every day and sharing those, too, and I think that small daily habit of writing and taking photographs has been really good for me. I won’t continue forever- in fact, I think I only have another week or two in me- because then I want to turn to other writing.

Art in Quarantine: Vermeer

Garden focaccia in quarantine!

What’s a summer of my life without travel, without a long walk, without the view from my window at La Muse? I’m not sure, and it’s hard to face, but I’ll need to come up with something. I’m going to have a few months at my disposal. The obvious answer, the one that is trying to knock me over the head, is the one that says: “Nadine, finish your book!!”

It feels inevitable, doesn’t it? I can’t spend 40-days walking through Portugal and Spain, so maybe I should finish writing about that first time that I walked through Spain. Face the difficult parts of the book, do a little research, a lot of editing, find a few people who might be willing to read a few chapters, and see what happens.

So that’s one part of my summer. And the rest? It’s hard to know what this country is going to look like in a few weeks or a month, but I’ve been tentatively putting together notes for a little backpacking trip, and a road trip to the mid-west (I know that Nebraska is not Europe, but I’ve always had some strange fascination with Nebraska, and this could be the summer that I finally make it out there). It might be impossible to do any traveling like this at all, even a road trip or a backpacking trip, but I’m going to remain hopeful.

Yesterday, over on Facebook, I wrote about a cake I tried to bake. I followed a recipe for a Berry Buttermilk Cake, though I didn’t have buttermilk. In the end, it turned out that I didn’t have berries either (where did those frozen blueberries get to??), and all I could do was laugh at my buttermilk-less and berry-less Berry Buttermilk cake. It felt like an analogy for my life, for maybe all of our lives: trying to bake cakes without the key ingredients. But someone commented on my Facebook post, saying it’s what we do with those ‘berry-less’ cakes that matter.

Which is the truest thing I know at the moment. This virus isn’t personal, we’re all affected, every single one of us. I can get caught in feeling frustrated about a plain cake sort of life, a life that’s supposed to have the berries in it, but I can’t let myself get stuck there for too long. I’ve got to make the best I can with the ingredients I have.

 

I’ll try to write more here in the next few months, to keep you updated on the different kinds of adventures I’m having this year. I hope you’re all well, finding hope and peace and creativity and energy where you can, making the most of your berry-less cake days. More (hopefully) soon.

Redbud with raindrop

6 Comments / Filed In: Writing
Tagged: Camino de Santiago, long distance walking, quarantine, solo female travel, travel, writing

COVID-19 Update #1

March 29, 2020

Greetings to all of my quarantined friends! I can imagine that most of us- if not all of us- are hunkered down at the moment, staying in one place and doing our best to keep physically distanced from others. For the last two weeks I’ve thought about writing a blog post every day, and then inevitably, don’t write a thing. I’m about two weeks into a quarantine (16 days, to be exact), and one of the biggest things I’ve noticed is that it’s been hard to focus. Hard to sit down and get the coronavirus and all of its implications out of my head and focus on something that takes any sort of mental power. In other words, it’s been hard to write.

But here I am, I’m feeling just a bit more settled today (or at least, at the moment!), and I’m going to seize that energy and post an update.

First, a little glimpse into my part of the world. I live outside of Philadelphia, and we had identified coronavirus cases somewhat early on (in terms of identified cases in the US). It’s hard to remember dates, but the county where I live and the county that borders the school I work for had a few cases in early March, and from there things moved quickly. By March 13th my school closed for the day so that teachers could get some online learning training; the intention was that we’d be back in school on Monday, March 16th, but I think we all knew that wouldn’t happen. That next week there seemed to be a new restriction or new cancellation nearly every hour: school were closed for two weeks, parks and libraries and businesses closed, then my county (and surrounding counties) were issued “stay at home” orders. 

staying at home during quarantine

The stay at home order isn’t quite a lockdown (though maybe that’s a synonymous term? I’m not sure). We’re allowed out for groceries and medicine, and to go to work if it’s deemed an essential service. We’re also allowed outside to exercise, take the dog on a walk, get fresh air. The “rules” here get a little hazy. I know that in other places, there are more restrictions on outside time. I could certainly be misinformed, but I read that in France, people can go outside but need to stay within 1 kilometer of where they live. And in the UK, I believe the rules state that you only get one allotted walk or exercise session a day.

Here, it’s generally understood that you shouldn’t stray too far from where you live, but there don’t seem to be restrictions on what, exactly, that means. Initially, the nearby state park where I always hike had closed, then the trails reopened. But other parks that had remained opened are now closed, because too many people flocked there. It’s being left largely up to us, as individuals, to sort of ‘self-police’, and use good judgment. So, don’t walk or hike in an area where there are too many people. If you go to a trailhead and the parking lot is full, go somewhere else. 

Quarantined hiking

I’ve been mostly staying at home, and walking around the neighborhood where I live. I’ve made a few exceptions and have driven out to my park, and for the most part the trails are actually more quiet than walking around my neighborhood is! I’m grateful that I can still get in my car and go somewhere, but I also want to be careful about this. I worry that if everyone gets in their car to go somewhere, areas will become overrun. So for now (and as long as it’s allowed), I’m going to limit the park visits, and if I go, get there early in the morning when it’s guaranteed to be quiet. Otherwise, it’s walks around home for the time being. 

And walking, as ever, has kept my spirits up. These have certainly been a difficult few weeks, and for me, one of the most challenging aspects is not knowing how long this will last. Plans are cancelled, travel is completely upended, none of us know how long we will be sitting inside of our homes. There are the larger questions, too: if and when we’ll get a handle on this virus? What the cost will be in the meantime: who will get sick, how many lives will be lost, what will the economic landscape be when we’re gotten to the other side? 

Spring detail; grass growing on tree bark

It’s easy to get overwhelmed, and when I find my thoughts moving in this direction, I get up and I move. I lace up my shoes and go outside and sometimes it’s just 15 minutes around the block. Sometimes I walk for an hour. Sometimes- if it’s raining- I just walk inside my apartment. Back and forth and back and forth. I put earbuds in and listen to music and move. It helps. It’s the best thing I know to do in times like these. 

Many have commented that at least the weather is getting nicer, that spring is arriving and trees and flowers are beginning to bloom. It’s true, and the walking will become more beautiful, but I can’t help but be heartbroken, too. I walk in all seasons- winter doesn’t really slow me down too much- and while I’ll certainly enjoy nicer weather, it’s also a reminder of what I’ve lost. Nice weather had always been an indication that my adventures would soon be starting- and indeed, in less than a week, I was supposed to be on a flight to Japan, walking through the mountains of the Kii Peninsula, hopefully catching the last of the cherry blossoms. Needless to say, I’m no longer going to Japan. I hope it’s a trip that I can one day reschedule, maybe for next year’s spring break, but it feels too far away for me to even be hopeful. Right now, I’m just sad and disappointed. I’m also keeping perspective, knowing that there are much harder losses for so many to bear, but allowing myself to mourn the loss of this particular adventure.

March cherry blossoms

In fact, I’m not sure that I’ll be able to go on any long walks this year, and I’m having a difficult time sitting with that. I’d just bought a new pair of hiking shoes earlier this month, and after a couple weeks of hiking and walking, they felt good and broken in. But a few days ago, I went back to wearing last year’s pair, reasoning that maybe I should save these new shoes for a time when I know I’ll be going on a really long walk. 

Keen hiking shoes

It feels like I’m putting those new shoes up on a shelf forever, and I have to remind myself that it’s not the case. They won’t be put away forever. This ordeal might feel as though it has no end, and indeed, it’s hard to see a light when we don’t even know how long the tunnel is. But it will end, we’ll all emerge, we’ll dust off those new shoes and dance down a trail in the summer sunshine again. 

In the meantime, be well, send news, stay safe and dream of brighter days ahead.

Blue sky after the rain

 

1 Comment / Filed In: walking, Writing
Tagged: COVID-19, hiking, physical distancing, quarantine, stay at home, walking, writing

Welcome! I’m Nadine: a traveler, a pilgrim, a walker, a writer, a coffee drinker. This is where I share my stories, my thoughts and my walks. I hope you enjoy the site!
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