Learning Lessons

The physical challenge of walking the Camino always carried rewards that seemed to pick me up the next morning and carry my backpack once again to my shoulders. Walking brought me intimately close to my surroundings--and there was such history around me that I never lacked for stimulation. Few of us take the time to move as slowly through our lives as I did for five weeks. I'm sure that everyone is occasionally amazed at the rudeness of drivers on the highway. Wrapped in the protective anonymity of their cars, some people will tailgate, cut in front of other cars, cross lanes, and generally endanger themselves and others. I've often tried to imagine them outside of their cars acting in the same manner--do they shoulder their way to the front of the movie ticket line, or swerve back and forth with their shopping carts in the grocery? Walking reveals you to your fellow travelers, exposes you to the elements, and places you within easy contact of the beauty of nature. Yes, I was rained on. But I photographed a rainbow arching miraculously above the church of Santiago in Villafranca del Bierzo. Yes, I got hot. But I saw tiny blue flowers that broke the sandy soil outside of Hontanas. How often do you hear the expression, "I've got to run"? How about "I'm going to run to the store." It's an old fashioned lament to claim that there's too much "running" going on. Many years ago, I memorized a sonnet by Wordsworth that expressed these thoughts best; the first stanza is greatness:

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

That moving slowly is a gift and a luxury was one lesson that I learned on the Camino. Here, have a few other, random lessons.

Limitations--in the month prior to leaving for my trip, I began to walk around my neighborhood. I started at one mile, and within two weeks, I could comfortably cover six miles in a morning. I pushed myself as far as almost nine miles, but that's where I stopped. Somehow, I always turned for home with the thought that I had gone as far as I could go before I had exceeded nine miles. So, how did I average almost 15 miles per day? I don't know. I didn't plan on it. In fact, twice the going was so difficult that I thought about just dropping my pack on the trail. On the first day, while trying to cover not only distance but also the long climb up 3,000 feet to Orrison, I remember collapsing on the path, rolling over onto my pack, and thinking, "I'm going to have to crawl the rest of the way." But I didn't. Somehow, and despite what sense would have told me back in Dallas, I always went on. As long as the road was before me, I would walk. In fact, some of the places I visited couldn't be reached any other way.

Distance--when I first told my wife that I'd like to walk this pilgrimage--that it was 500 miles--she thought I was crazy. Heck, I thought I was crazy. I couldn't conceive of walking that far. While driving down to Austin to visit my daughter one Friday, I imagined walking the 200 miles between my house and hers in 20, 10-mile stages. 500 miles seemed utterly out of reach. Yet, there I was in Compostella--one step at a time.

On Being Alone--Days walking with company--Mike, Neils, Derby--were nice. Other days I was alone--never lonely.

On My Needs--after a couple of weeks, these were pretty spare. Good socks. Dry clothes. Fresh fruit in my pack. It's illuminating how little I really needed to be happy. Spain provided all my entertainment needs.

A Definition Learned on the Trip: "Dry"--1. can't wring any more water out of it. 2. not so wet I won't wear it.

On the Process of Walking--Almost every trail we used was also used by goats, sheep, cattle, dogs, and wild animals--some of them people. I learned that there is nothing you step in that doesn't come off your boot eventually. I learned that everyone's feet blister, but that calluses don't begin to form until the flesh is stimulated to do so by use.

On Greeting the Unexpected--I expected to see the Valley of Roland, a piano that Hemingway played, a Roman road, and a cathedral or two. I did not expect to play like a kid on a Templar castle, touch the sublime at Santa Maria la Blanca, or get run over by a hurricane. Travel is fun.

On Burdens--I carried too much weight. This is a common fault of almost all novice walkers. I mailed stuff home twice until the walking became easier and my need to inventory my stuff each morning became non-existent. Even lightened, somehow the pack becomes heavier as the afternoon wears on. It is sweet to loosen your straps, to unclip your belt, and to lay your burdens down in the evening when the walk is over.

Lastly, I learned that for every journey, there is a time to go home.