It was where I was heading, as was everyone else on this pilgrimage across northern Spain. Each city was different, Leon is a pleasure, Burgos has a dreadful 9km walk through the industrial part of the city. Pamplona was too early to take much notice of, I was only walking a few days and my legs were sore, my feet had blisters, and my rucksack was far too heavy; something I changed fairly soon after leaving Pamplona.
I had no great expectation of Santiago. I had become used to not thinking much about the future, walking does that to the mind and soul. I came upon Santiago during the early afternoon, a simple sign at a bridge over a river saying only Santiago. Nothing else, no welcome to Santiago pilgrim, no brass band, no bells – what had I really expected?
I dumped my rucksack in an Albergue, I was staying here a few days and did not have enough money for a hotel; anyway I had been walking for over four weeks and had become quite used to them.
Then down into the city I walked the cobbled winding streets of the old town. A feeling of elation touched me for a while that day. I met other pilgrims and we ate together and talked about what was next. We met up that night and had some drinks with other pilgrims, then went home to bed, falling fast asleep very quickly as I had not been out so late for the last four weeks.
However the next morning was when the “what now?” set in. Yes, what do I do now, I did not get up at six and have my coffee out of the way while other people were getting ready to leave and walk, I was not going to walk anywhere. I felt a bit lost. I had to face the fact, that day, that I was finished.I had finished what I had come to Spain to do, and now I had to take it all home with me: in my mind, in my body, and take it all back to my “normal” life.
After that slight feeling of depression and then the acceptance of what was, I brightened again. I found out though that my normal life had changed, only a little. I have become quite used to walking and I now take pleasure in walking seeing nature anew, in a way that I had not noticed before, just a little bit more detail to the things that don’t move. I had a tiny bit more confidence in myself and my abilities; I had just walked 780km, not too bad.
Walking the Camino de Santiago
Related posts:
- El Acebo on the Camino Frances
- Camino blues
- Camino de Santiago – I have no idea what you hold for me.
- A Distant Dream
- Camino de Santiago – Hemit or not?
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
I find myself thinking and talking about my journey on the Camino de Santiago last year. I started walking in St Jean on Jun 30th and reached Santiago 26 days later. I know that the experience will never leave me and of course I’ve also thought about it now again but not as much as I have recently. Is it because I’ve moved away from home to Paris? Away from my friends and family and everything I know so well? Do I feel the same element of aloneness that I felt on my pilgrimage to Santiago? I mean anyone has walked the camino will agree that there are times that one feels very much separated from reality. It’s a very transcendental experience, particularly the section of the walk through the Mascetta. I consider some days of leaving la Sorbonne behind me, get a train to Bayonne, then to St Jean to start all over again.
I often have the same feelings, I consider myself lucky to have walked it twice. But also I get to write about it all the time – oh yeah that is what you were once going to do for me!
Take care