Helen and Hunter have both written eloquently about our first week home and I will not repeat their observations other than to say that Helen's Henri Nouwen quote "that life's interruptions are the places where you are being molded into the person that you are called to be" has helped to change my perspective on expectations. I now know that my expectations have given me a very skewed view of life and I am much more open than previously to going with God's flow and being satisfied.
One of the questions that I have been asked repeatedly by many people since returning home is how I intend to live the lessons of the Camino going forward. In one of my earlier posts, I shared some lessons that God was teaching me. Over the kilometers of trail after that post, God confirmed to me that those lessons were indeed the ones He was impressing on my heart. I have been praying daily that God will not let me forget these lessons.
While walking, I found that life slowed down a lot and that I was able to really focus on the present and appreciate the people and things around me. Since returning home, I have felt like I have completely new eyes to see, but know that it is because God has changed my heart.
I hope that you who are reading this (if you are reading this you care about me and I am thankful for you) will keep me accountable for these lessons and remind me of them when you see me slipping back into unhealthy patterns of living. Most of you know me to be a very rigid, controlled kind of person; spontaneity has never been my middle name. No more! Going forward, as on the Camino, I cannot tell you where God will lead me, I only know that I will follow and obey what He tells me. I will care for and enjoy the people that He puts in my path. I will accept what comes as God's best for me and trust Him for His provision. I will no longer measure progress by how much I have accomplished or produced, but by how often I heard God's voice.
Thanks to all of you who prayed for us while we were gone. We could feel your prayers and they strengthened and encouraged us.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Returning Home
(By the way, clicking on these photos in our blog should enlarge them for you.)
My children have all told Wick and me that we have been super cheesy in our blogs. I say to them, “Thank you, I hope so.” They just laugh. I think they actually like us that way. I’m all about being cheesy if it means being authentic—telling people how much they mean to me, sharing “Aha” moments God has given me, and telling the story of a spiritual journey like the Camino.
We’ve been back from Spain a week now, are almost over our jetlag, and Wick and I are feeling much better after antibiotocs have crushed the intestinal bactieria wreaking havoc in our systems since we had some bad paella our last weekend in Santiago. It’s been great to see a lot of you and do familiar activities. I think this has been the longest time I have ever gone without driving a car, or cooking something, etc.
Of course that’s one of the ways God can use a pilgrimage experience in your life. This pilgrimage took me out of all of my routines and gave me the opportunity to see myself and others in a new frame. In that way God gave me new ‘self awareness.’
A pilgrimage also gives new ‘God awareness’ for similar reasons. At home I look at the basics of life as a given, but when I was on the Camino, whether walking or laid up with a hurt foot, I learned to trust God to provide even those basics—food, strength, shelter for the night, or shelter from a storm, a place to clean up, or enough bushes to screen my ‘bathroom break’ on the trail. Because I always needed at least one of these things all the time, I was forced to live and breathe from an ongoing, prayerful position with God. I talked to Him, either in my head or out loud when Wick, Hunter and I prayed together, all the time. This gave me a sense of God’s presence all the time, day after day.
Some of you have asked me, “Are you glad to be home?” And I have to pause to choose my words carefully. I am glad to see those of you, my friends and family, whom I love, glad to worship together, glad to rest and have God restore me physically. But I don’t want to lose that sense of God’s presence. By His grace I hope He will keep growing that awareness, even now that I’m home. As He began showing us even before we left for Spain, my life with God is a pilgrimage. He’s sovereign over every aspect of it, and allows what is best, even though what is best may not look best in my economy. It can be His way of shaking loose what He knows we don’t need and what is holding us back from knowing Him and His love in deeper ways.
Since I’ve been home I’ve had a great time going through the photos and video we brought back. (If you're interested, stay tuned for the video documentary I’ve begun. We'll get the word out somehow.) I’m so thankful for this record of our trip. As I look at these images and watch the video I’m struck by what an incredible feat this really was, and how much of God’s beauty we saw.
Before the trip I didn’t consider what an amazing physical accomplishment walking the Camino in 25 days would be. It was God’s grace that I did what I could do to condition myself, got the equipment we needed (many thanks to our friend Jody Hale, who gave us excellent counsel on every piece of equipment from our packs, to our boots, to our walking poles, to our socks and underwear, EVERYTHING), and set out to do it. By now you know that Hunter was the only one of us to actually do what we set out to do. But rather than be disappointed that I didn’t finish the walk, God gave me the grace to appreciate the buses and taxis I was able to use when I couldn’t walk. (I think I was in too much pain to be disappointed.)
In our packs we carried a New Testament and a small devotional with excerpts from the writings of Henri Nouwen. After my foot got bad and I had to stop walking, I “just happened” to read, “Your pain, seen in the light of a spiritual journey, can be interpreted…Interruptions are not disruptions of your way to holiness, but rather are places where you are being molded and formed into the person God calls you to be. You know you are living a grateful life when whatever happens is received as an invitation to deepen your heart, to strengthen your love, and to broaden your hope. You are living a grateful life when something is taken away from you that you thought was so important and you find yourself willing to say, “Maybe I’m being invited to a deeper way of living.” Author Ruth Myers says something like, ‘Don’t see interruptions as intruders. Welcome them as friends.’
I thank God for all of you who prayed for us. Godspeed you all along on your life journeys, and may God give you all a pilgrim’s perspective, whether He takes you on a pilgrimage or not.
God's Peace,
Helen
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Day 4 of Being Home: Santiago, Madrid, and Florida
It's so good to be home! There's no feeling like the strangeness of returning to the house after a month of sleeping in a different bed and eating out every night. Our living room is about the same square footage as a 20-bed (or more) room in an albergue. We can make our own meals and the computer works without putting a coin in first. My bed is actually long enough and much more comfortable than the bunks. It still takes some getting used to, though.
My walk from Arzua to Santiago was fairly uneventful, but no less enjoyable. Whether because I was tired or had a subconscious resistance to finishing the Camino, I didn't walk as fast as usual and took time to make a cross out of sticks and put it in a fence by the highway next to hundreds of others. The trail was surrounded by more and more roads and modern buildings and I finally was engulfed in the suburbs around Santiago. The way through the modern city was better marked than Dad/Wick had led me to believe, but I think that was because I was in a (very) little more aware state of mind coming in than he was. My entrance into the plaza by the famous west facade of the cathedral was documented (of course) before my reunion with Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick. I stayed a while to take in the enormous and ornate west facade before walking around inside for a cursory tour of the magnificent altar and other wonders. After that we went to the Pilgrims' office to get my Compostella, which was a pretty easy process (pay three Euros, write down your basic information on a sheet for the file, and roll the certificate up to put in the tube.) Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick led me to our hotel, where I got cleaned up and put on the shorts and tshirt and fresh underwear they'd bought me, then we went to dinner at an Italian place (shockingly enough, Italian food tastes exactly the same in Spain as it does in the U.S.)
I know earlier I said I was going to go to Finisterre the next day, but that night as I was getting ready for bed I felt a sense of completion. I was finished. Instead, I spent the extra day in Santiago. Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick were both "over" the city, having been there for a week already, but they showed me around to the countless cheesy tourist gift shops and the good places to get icecream (the icecream there is phenomenal.) Having had only my Bible and guidebook to read for over three weeks, I was starving for some literature, so we found a bookstore that had books in English (I've read almost four novels since then. So good to have something else to read again!) We also found a place to do our laundry, so the other people on our flight home would be able to breathe. Sometime that afternoon Dad/Wick began to feel the first symptoms of upset stomach and intestines, which also began to affect Mom/Helen the next day to the point that neither could bring themselves to eat much. That night, however, their plans to have dinner at the cool seafood place with me were foiled when for some reason it was closed.
The next day we spent pretty much as the first. We walked around a really pretty park near our hotel for a bit in the morning and had lunch at a Kurdish falafel/shawarma place in the old section of the city. It was really good and brought back memories from our trip in Israel, so we ate there for dinner too. By then both my companions were suffering from this mysterious stomach bug or whatever it was, though neither thought (as I did) that it was from the seafood place, since food stuff usually happens almost immediately. The only reason I figured it was the seafood place that caused it was that it was the most recent place they'd eaten that I hadn't, and it may have been Providence that kept us from eating there again, thus saving me from the same sickness (now that it's lasted so long, I think they agree.)
The next day of travel was gruelling, more so for Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick because they were already feeling so bad. It was once again a sleepless flight for me the whole trip. I was painfully tired by the time we landed in Jacksonville, but my excitement to be so close to being home gave me a second wind as we collected our luggage (all bags arrived smoothly and were among the first out at baggage claim.) As I said before, it was a strange feeling coming into the house, but I quickly dished out some soup my grandmother had left in the fridge, for the meals on the plane were hardly substantial.
Since then we've been adjusting to the time zone and catching up on all the sleep we lost. Mom/Helen got her foot X-rayed and it was officially diagnosed as a stress fracture, so she got a foot-splint thing. She and Dad/Wick suffered a few more days from their sickness, but got some prescription antibiotics, so they're finally feeling better. As for me, I've adjusted pretty well, except for Saturday afternoon when I felt an unexplainable restlessness. I couldn't set myself to any entertainment or task or excercise. I realized later that my brain was still functioning for a nomadic lifestyle. Now, however, I'm fully recovered and back to occasionally zoning out like normal.
Thanks to all of you who read this. I hope you enjoyed it, because we certainly enjoyed writing it (almost as much as doing the stuff we were writing about.) I hope we entertained you all and presented the lessons we learned well enough that you all might benefit as well. God bless you all!
In Him,
Hunter
P.S. Although this is the last entry in the log, keep checking back during the next couple weeks, because now we're adding pictures. Scroll through and you'll see we've already added a fair number to go along with our logs.
Stubble Update: Neck and chin are thick and dark. Chops are not dark, but are adequate. Mustache darkening and no longer embarassing, as long as the rest of the facial hair is there to keep it company. Not to the stage where it can stand alone, yet, though.
My walk from Arzua to Santiago was fairly uneventful, but no less enjoyable. Whether because I was tired or had a subconscious resistance to finishing the Camino, I didn't walk as fast as usual and took time to make a cross out of sticks and put it in a fence by the highway next to hundreds of others. The trail was surrounded by more and more roads and modern buildings and I finally was engulfed in the suburbs around Santiago. The way through the modern city was better marked than Dad/Wick had led me to believe, but I think that was because I was in a (very) little more aware state of mind coming in than he was. My entrance into the plaza by the famous west facade of the cathedral was documented (of course) before my reunion with Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick. I stayed a while to take in the enormous and ornate west facade before walking around inside for a cursory tour of the magnificent altar and other wonders. After that we went to the Pilgrims' office to get my Compostella, which was a pretty easy process (pay three Euros, write down your basic information on a sheet for the file, and roll the certificate up to put in the tube.) Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick led me to our hotel, where I got cleaned up and put on the shorts and tshirt and fresh underwear they'd bought me, then we went to dinner at an Italian place (shockingly enough, Italian food tastes exactly the same in Spain as it does in the U.S.)
I know earlier I said I was going to go to Finisterre the next day, but that night as I was getting ready for bed I felt a sense of completion. I was finished. Instead, I spent the extra day in Santiago. Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick were both "over" the city, having been there for a week already, but they showed me around to the countless cheesy tourist gift shops and the good places to get icecream (the icecream there is phenomenal.) Having had only my Bible and guidebook to read for over three weeks, I was starving for some literature, so we found a bookstore that had books in English (I've read almost four novels since then. So good to have something else to read again!) We also found a place to do our laundry, so the other people on our flight home would be able to breathe. Sometime that afternoon Dad/Wick began to feel the first symptoms of upset stomach and intestines, which also began to affect Mom/Helen the next day to the point that neither could bring themselves to eat much. That night, however, their plans to have dinner at the cool seafood place with me were foiled when for some reason it was closed.
The next day we spent pretty much as the first. We walked around a really pretty park near our hotel for a bit in the morning and had lunch at a Kurdish falafel/shawarma place in the old section of the city. It was really good and brought back memories from our trip in Israel, so we ate there for dinner too. By then both my companions were suffering from this mysterious stomach bug or whatever it was, though neither thought (as I did) that it was from the seafood place, since food stuff usually happens almost immediately. The only reason I figured it was the seafood place that caused it was that it was the most recent place they'd eaten that I hadn't, and it may have been Providence that kept us from eating there again, thus saving me from the same sickness (now that it's lasted so long, I think they agree.)
The next day of travel was gruelling, more so for Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick because they were already feeling so bad. It was once again a sleepless flight for me the whole trip. I was painfully tired by the time we landed in Jacksonville, but my excitement to be so close to being home gave me a second wind as we collected our luggage (all bags arrived smoothly and were among the first out at baggage claim.) As I said before, it was a strange feeling coming into the house, but I quickly dished out some soup my grandmother had left in the fridge, for the meals on the plane were hardly substantial.
Since then we've been adjusting to the time zone and catching up on all the sleep we lost. Mom/Helen got her foot X-rayed and it was officially diagnosed as a stress fracture, so she got a foot-splint thing. She and Dad/Wick suffered a few more days from their sickness, but got some prescription antibiotics, so they're finally feeling better. As for me, I've adjusted pretty well, except for Saturday afternoon when I felt an unexplainable restlessness. I couldn't set myself to any entertainment or task or excercise. I realized later that my brain was still functioning for a nomadic lifestyle. Now, however, I'm fully recovered and back to occasionally zoning out like normal.
Thanks to all of you who read this. I hope you enjoyed it, because we certainly enjoyed writing it (almost as much as doing the stuff we were writing about.) I hope we entertained you all and presented the lessons we learned well enough that you all might benefit as well. God bless you all!
In Him,
Hunter
P.S. Although this is the last entry in the log, keep checking back during the next couple weeks, because now we're adding pictures. Scroll through and you'll see we've already added a fair number to go along with our logs.
Stubble Update: Neck and chin are thick and dark. Chops are not dark, but are adequate. Mustache darkening and no longer embarassing, as long as the rest of the facial hair is there to keep it company. Not to the stage where it can stand alone, yet, though.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Together in Santiago
*Hi to everyone,
Hunter arrived yesterday evening around 7pm in the Santiago Cathedral square. We were there to greet him and document his arrival on film. After his 40+K that day, he was very tired, needless to say. Wick and I are thrilled to see him. It's been over two weeks since we have been together.
*We tried very hard not to pepper him with questions right away. He got cleaned up and into the fresh clothes we had bought him, then off to dinner we went for some Italian food. Hunter ate a huge quantity of the delicious ravioli, and after a good night's sleep, he's perking up to enjoy the touristy fun of Santiago. In many ways it reminds us of St. Augustine, but it's had hundreds of years' headstart to accumulate souvenir shops. There are wonderful shops and buildings, of course, but we were in the mood for the fun of shopping for silly items for family and friends.
*Hunter has just spent over 30 minutes trying to get some photos on the blog without success. So Wick and I don't feel as inadequate as we did. We'll just have to wait on that.*
We just happened to run into Claude (rhymes with Road) from Quebec as we were walking through the Plaza. We met him at a cafe a week or so ago and ate lunch together. We ended up running into Claude two other times over the course of two days and ate dinner together. A Camino friendship.*
Leoni and Sina from Germany happened to walk into the plaza while we were waiting for Hunter. We had met them two weeks ago. They were walking the Camino together after the death of Leoni's husband (Sina's father) just three weeks before starting their pilgrimage.*
It's been great fun for Hunter and us to run into the peregrinos he knows from the trail. That's one of the charms of actually walking--having mini reunions with your trail friends in the streets of Santiago.
I'm just about out of time.
Hasta luego,
Helen
*These photos and captions were added on Oct.20 at home.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Day 23 of Walking: One Day More
I had intended to post something last night, but I was so sleepy I kept getting my dates mixed up. Plus there was a dubbed version of Harry Meets the Hendersons on the TV in the bar, so I was rather distracted. Anyway, I´ve got my dates straight now, so here we go.
First of all, the weather has been great the past week or so. Galicia is usually unpredictable and wet, but my experience in the province so far has been one of chilly, foggy mornings and sunny warmth the rest of the day. I´ve been walking more slowly than before, too, so instead of meeting new people every single day I´m getting to stay with the same crowd. Still a bit homesick for the fam and friends, though, but it´s less than a week until I get to see you again!
After I finished writing my last post I gave the American the ten minutes left on the internet and intended to go back to my room to wait for the 7 o´clock supper at the bar next to my albergue. Once I got back to the hostel I felt a sense of curiousity about my fellow countryman (Leeroy from Detroit, though he looks like Mark Twain) and decided to go back and talk to him. He was grateful for the internet time and after a pilgrims´celebration at the local church I joined him and four women from Quebec and France for dinner. Had some pleasant enough conversation, though it turned rather tiresome when I ended up being the most sober one at the table (three bottles of wine for the six of us, of which I had only two or three glasses.) During the meal I tried to steer the conversation toward subjects that would help me find out more about this guy´s spiritual side. He gave a rather noncommital answer when I asked him about his reason for walking. Talked about the history and all that nonsense, then returned to his lambchops. He seemed a lot more like a tourist than a pilgrim, though.
The celebration was pretty cool, though I missed most of what the priest said due to the language barrier, his speed of talking, and the slight fuzziness of the microphone. I think the main point of his talk was that the Camino isn´t a tourist´s trip, but an interior journey, and it´s something that continues for our entire lives. Got to have Communion for the first time in a long time, and I enjoyed the peace offering, where I got kissed on both cheeks several times and greeted in three or four different languages.
The next day I ate breakfast on the trail (jam and toast I had bought the night before) and covered ground quite fast. The walking wasn´t as memorable as the people I met along the way (who I´ve had the pleasure of seeing several times.) I met a tall, skinny Englishman named John, who was bald and looked to be in his 50s. He´s quite a character, I have to say. He treated me to a drink at the next bar we came to, and last night treated me and a nice English woman I met in Triacastela to the story about renting a car in Orlando with his family and ending up with an "aircraft carrier." At the relatively luxurious albergue in Sarria, I shared a four-bed room with a 50-to-60-ish man from Belgium (Albert), whose company I quite enjoy. He´s already biked the Camino, but to him it wasn´t really a pilgrimage since it didn´t give him a slow pace to think at. He´s actually here in the albergue at Arzua in the bed across from me. As I finished dinner with a package of a dozen chocolate-covered Oreos, I ended up sharing them with a German-American from Portland, Oregon. He had some interesting insights on the Camino, though I was saddened when he told me that for him at that point it had basically become a weight-loss program. I was perhaps not as aggressive as I should have been, but I at least told him my reasons for walking, so perhaps there´s a seed planted there. The exchange did confirm for me that the Camino is indeed in desperate need of evanglists, though.
After Sarria, smelling foul in my third or fourth repeat of my clothes (and even second repeat on the socks), I walked the thirteen miles to Portomarin. About five miles into it God seemed to be telling me to take my boots off, so I ended up walking almost half the day barefoot, some on quite painful gravel, to the amazement of Albert, John, and Chris (that´s the Oregon guy, who I hope had another seen planted in him from my reason for walking barefoot.) I stayed the night in a nice hotel recommended to me by Dad/Wick and washed every artcle of clothing with me. Took a nap while they all dried and went to dinner slightly damp but smelling fresher than I had for days. Ate my first real breakfast in a while the next morning and got a bit of a late start to Palas de Rei.
Since yesterday was a holday, I brought lunch along with me and ate it on a boulder on a beautiful rocky hill overlooking the trail. The main attraction was that it was covered in yellow flowers, which ever since my adventure approaching Logroño I´ve taken to be a sign of God´s presence. It was a bit amusing seeing who on the Camino noticed I was up there and who just passed by (see if you can spot the metaphor there.) Stayed the night in a room some French people and Leeroy and Marie (one of the girls from Quebec) in a really expensive hostel (9 € for only decent facilities!) Put my blister kit to good use for the first time in a while to treat Leeroy´s and Marie´s feet (all my blisters have long ago healed and turned to hard skin.)
Today I had a bit of a longer hike (though not as long as the one tomorrow!) to Arzua, about 18 miles. I got an earlier start than usual, so I was able to see the stars disappear in a beautiful sunrise behind me. The terrain after lunch was pretty rough, with lots of ups and downs through river valleys, but the sound of running water´s always fun. Tomorrow I will make the great 40 km leap to Santiago!
Faced with the prospect of ending my journey, I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, I am extremely tired and I miss my family and friends and bed, but on the other, I really quite enjoy this adventurous day-to-day lifestyle of eating meals at cafes along the way and staying the night in a different place with the same people. I´ll be sad to see it end. See you all in Santiago!
In Him,
Hunter
Stubble Update: Chin and neck have nearly reached beard status. Perhaps the chops have as well, I just can´t see them. No comments on mustache.
I didn't take this, so I'm not sure if this is the field I ate lunch in that one day, but if it isn't it's very similar.
First of all, the weather has been great the past week or so. Galicia is usually unpredictable and wet, but my experience in the province so far has been one of chilly, foggy mornings and sunny warmth the rest of the day. I´ve been walking more slowly than before, too, so instead of meeting new people every single day I´m getting to stay with the same crowd. Still a bit homesick for the fam and friends, though, but it´s less than a week until I get to see you again!
After I finished writing my last post I gave the American the ten minutes left on the internet and intended to go back to my room to wait for the 7 o´clock supper at the bar next to my albergue. Once I got back to the hostel I felt a sense of curiousity about my fellow countryman (Leeroy from Detroit, though he looks like Mark Twain) and decided to go back and talk to him. He was grateful for the internet time and after a pilgrims´celebration at the local church I joined him and four women from Quebec and France for dinner. Had some pleasant enough conversation, though it turned rather tiresome when I ended up being the most sober one at the table (three bottles of wine for the six of us, of which I had only two or three glasses.) During the meal I tried to steer the conversation toward subjects that would help me find out more about this guy´s spiritual side. He gave a rather noncommital answer when I asked him about his reason for walking. Talked about the history and all that nonsense, then returned to his lambchops. He seemed a lot more like a tourist than a pilgrim, though.
The celebration was pretty cool, though I missed most of what the priest said due to the language barrier, his speed of talking, and the slight fuzziness of the microphone. I think the main point of his talk was that the Camino isn´t a tourist´s trip, but an interior journey, and it´s something that continues for our entire lives. Got to have Communion for the first time in a long time, and I enjoyed the peace offering, where I got kissed on both cheeks several times and greeted in three or four different languages.
The next day I ate breakfast on the trail (jam and toast I had bought the night before) and covered ground quite fast. The walking wasn´t as memorable as the people I met along the way (who I´ve had the pleasure of seeing several times.) I met a tall, skinny Englishman named John, who was bald and looked to be in his 50s. He´s quite a character, I have to say. He treated me to a drink at the next bar we came to, and last night treated me and a nice English woman I met in Triacastela to the story about renting a car in Orlando with his family and ending up with an "aircraft carrier." At the relatively luxurious albergue in Sarria, I shared a four-bed room with a 50-to-60-ish man from Belgium (Albert), whose company I quite enjoy. He´s already biked the Camino, but to him it wasn´t really a pilgrimage since it didn´t give him a slow pace to think at. He´s actually here in the albergue at Arzua in the bed across from me. As I finished dinner with a package of a dozen chocolate-covered Oreos, I ended up sharing them with a German-American from Portland, Oregon. He had some interesting insights on the Camino, though I was saddened when he told me that for him at that point it had basically become a weight-loss program. I was perhaps not as aggressive as I should have been, but I at least told him my reasons for walking, so perhaps there´s a seed planted there. The exchange did confirm for me that the Camino is indeed in desperate need of evanglists, though.
After Sarria, smelling foul in my third or fourth repeat of my clothes (and even second repeat on the socks), I walked the thirteen miles to Portomarin. About five miles into it God seemed to be telling me to take my boots off, so I ended up walking almost half the day barefoot, some on quite painful gravel, to the amazement of Albert, John, and Chris (that´s the Oregon guy, who I hope had another seen planted in him from my reason for walking barefoot.) I stayed the night in a nice hotel recommended to me by Dad/Wick and washed every artcle of clothing with me. Took a nap while they all dried and went to dinner slightly damp but smelling fresher than I had for days. Ate my first real breakfast in a while the next morning and got a bit of a late start to Palas de Rei.
Since yesterday was a holday, I brought lunch along with me and ate it on a boulder on a beautiful rocky hill overlooking the trail. The main attraction was that it was covered in yellow flowers, which ever since my adventure approaching Logroño I´ve taken to be a sign of God´s presence. It was a bit amusing seeing who on the Camino noticed I was up there and who just passed by (see if you can spot the metaphor there.) Stayed the night in a room some French people and Leeroy and Marie (one of the girls from Quebec) in a really expensive hostel (9 € for only decent facilities!) Put my blister kit to good use for the first time in a while to treat Leeroy´s and Marie´s feet (all my blisters have long ago healed and turned to hard skin.)
Today I had a bit of a longer hike (though not as long as the one tomorrow!) to Arzua, about 18 miles. I got an earlier start than usual, so I was able to see the stars disappear in a beautiful sunrise behind me. The terrain after lunch was pretty rough, with lots of ups and downs through river valleys, but the sound of running water´s always fun. Tomorrow I will make the great 40 km leap to Santiago!
Faced with the prospect of ending my journey, I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, I am extremely tired and I miss my family and friends and bed, but on the other, I really quite enjoy this adventurous day-to-day lifestyle of eating meals at cafes along the way and staying the night in a different place with the same people. I´ll be sad to see it end. See you all in Santiago!
In Him,
Hunter
Stubble Update: Chin and neck have nearly reached beard status. Perhaps the chops have as well, I just can´t see them. No comments on mustache.
I didn't take this, so I'm not sure if this is the field I ate lunch in that one day, but if it isn't it's very similar.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Galician Seascapes and Seafood
Helen and I rode the bus to Finisterra (Fisterra on some maps) yesterday. It was 3 hours each way from Santiago, but a beautiful ride. The route followed the inlets out to the sea for most of the trip. Going out, the tide was out and there were many mud flats with people digging for clams or mussels. Coming back, the tide had risen and everything was covered with water. Many areas had rocky mountains going down into deep blue/green water. It reminded us of Maine and other New England spots. The significance of Finisterra was that people literally thought it was the end of the earth until Columbus proved them wrong.
Last night we were both hungry for a good meal. We have not found the food here to be particularly good, however as we were wandering around wondering where to eat, God literally directed us to the door of a restaurant. We entered and enjoyed the best meal of the trip so far. We had grilled seafood for two. It started with small mussels in butter garlic sauce. They had a very delicate flavor. Next was a scallop each still on the shell. The way they were served is different from what we normally see, but delicious. Then came a lobster to split and 10 large prawns (shrimp). Everything was cooked perfectly. The meal was topped off with a special Galician liqueur that seemed like smooth moonshine with cream and a little coffee. I might learn to like coffee served this way. It was fun to see the seafood and how it was prepared and served. We intend to return when Hunter gets here and try the local delicacy of barnacles as well as the other items mentioned.
*
Today we walked around the old city with a self-guided tour on an MP3 machine. Santiago is loaded with old buildings of signficance. We also went into the cathedral. We are unable to figure out how to post a picture because all the instructions are in Spanish. Maybe when our best Spanish speaker and computer guru (Hunter) arrives we will be able to upload some.*
Wick
*These photos were added Oct.20 at home.
*photos uploaded Oct.20 at home
Last night we were both hungry for a good meal. We have not found the food here to be particularly good, however as we were wandering around wondering where to eat, God literally directed us to the door of a restaurant. We entered and enjoyed the best meal of the trip so far. We had grilled seafood for two. It started with small mussels in butter garlic sauce. They had a very delicate flavor. Next was a scallop each still on the shell. The way they were served is different from what we normally see, but delicious. Then came a lobster to split and 10 large prawns (shrimp). Everything was cooked perfectly. The meal was topped off with a special Galician liqueur that seemed like smooth moonshine with cream and a little coffee. I might learn to like coffee served this way. It was fun to see the seafood and how it was prepared and served. We intend to return when Hunter gets here and try the local delicacy of barnacles as well as the other items mentioned.
*Today we walked around the old city with a self-guided tour on an MP3 machine. Santiago is loaded with old buildings of signficance. We also went into the cathedral. We are unable to figure out how to post a picture because all the instructions are in Spanish. Maybe when our best Spanish speaker and computer guru (Hunter) arrives we will be able to upload some.*
Wick
*These photos were added Oct.20 at home.
*photos uploaded Oct.20 at home
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Wick in Santiago
*This past Saturday around noon, Helen's foot finally got too painful to continue walking and she decided to take a bus to Santiago from Palas de Rei. She encouraged me to continue walking alone and I believe that she was being quite kind in wanting me to have some time on the Camino alone as well as being able to complete the walk and receive my Compostela. I think she also was amused by the idea of unleashing me on the Camino alone with no interpreter. I can honestly say that now people on the last part of the Camino do understand "Hola y'all" and will be prepared for future southern Estados Unidos folks that come down the path.
Walking the Camino alone is very different from walking it together. Alone you have no one to talk to most of the time except yourself and God. For me, it was a great time as the words "grateful and thankful" kept coming to my mind. I had plenty of time to reflect on all of my many blessings including my walk with the Lord, my biological family, my community group, my church family, and my business family. I was also very thankful to be physically able to make a strenuous walk like this. The weather was also perfect. As you can see, God had set it all up for me. The obvious downside of being alone is that Helen was not beside me to share the sights, sounds, etc.
In 2-1/2 days I walked around 42 miles over sometimes rocky and challenging terrain. I have now found out that although I still feel very young at heart and in spirit, my body does get tired. My feet and legs particulary felt the stress toward the end.
I met some very nice folks along the way. Saturday night in Melide I ate dinner with a Canadian couple who were walking at a somewhat slower pace. They were 82 and 68 respectively. Yes, that is 82! I hope to be that spry. Sunday night in Arca do Pina I ate dinner with an Austrian couple, a Danish couple and a Danish woman. The Austrians were on their third Camino while the Danes were in their third year of walking portions of the Camino. They finished yesterday after me. It has been fun to see people from the trail in town today.
It was wonderful to walk into the square at the Cathedral yesterday and see Helen waiting for me. We had a joyful reunion and got caught up. I went to the pilgrim office and received my Compostela. Last night we ate dinner with an Australian. He was quite interesting as he owns managed health care company and contracts with Governments to provide better cheaper care than they can. He is a practicing Catholic who really appreciated the many churches, priests, etc. along the Camino.
Helen's foot is still hurting and we got some crutches for her today so she can keep some weight of it. Tomorrow we are going to ride a bus to Finis Terra, or Fisterra, which until Columbus discovered the new world was thought to be the end of the earth.
As you can see from Hunter´s entries, he continues to steam along.
--Wick
*These photos were added on Oct.19 at home.
Day 19 of Walking: God stole my blanket!
I´m in the mountains at the moment, which means lots of ups and downs. I´m also in Galicia, which means more Celtic-ness and crazy weather. Starting from my last post:
From Astorga I went up the Montes de Leon and halfway back down to a small village called Acebo. Although the uphill streches are more difficult, I think I like them better than downhills and even flat parts, because they really get the endorphins going, which puts me in a better mood. I pity the people nearby, though, because I also sweat more on the uphills, and I haven´t gotten around to washing my clothes since Carrion. The views on both sides of the mountain were beautiful and the trail was peaceful. On th trail I met an older man from Spain, and have met him several times along the road. He and I speak little, save for inquiries about sleep and weather and time and plans, but he has a paternal air about him and always lights up when he sees me. I stayed that night in a private albergue and joined two older chaps from Austria and Norway for supper. We had pleasant conversation over pretty good food. It was interesting to hear the two of them discussing Earopean politics and their views on the environmental issues. The Norwegian man took a bus from Ponferrada because he´d already done the rest and I´ve seen the Austrian guy every day since. Went to bed early and rose again wel rested for the rest of the downhill.
The next day I passed through the touristy city of Ponferrada, on the way discovering a way to make my boots feel more comfortable: take them off for a mile or so. Yes, I had a bothersome place on my left foot, so I checked with God and took my boots off for the entry into Ponferrada. It was quite painful, but after I washed my feet and put my boots back on, I felt like I was walking on a cloud. It was a very long day to Villafranca del Bierzo, but I finally made it to an albergue I was eager to stay at because of its description in the guidebook. It is run by a man and his family who have dedicated their lives to serving pilgrims and, though it was rustic and the showers were freezing, it was my favortite place to stay on the whole trip. The owner´s son was playing a very Spanish tune on his guitar while I got cleaned up, and I met a variety of people at the communal dinner. There was a cute couple from the Philipines, an African-American mother and daughter from Seattle, a couple cyclists from Brazil, and a woman from central Spain. After the delicious dinner, the son of the owner turned out the lights and the owner brought out a pastry with a candle in it for the Philipino man, who it turned out was turning 67 that day. Everyone was so nice and it was a very peaceful place to stay. That night I slept until about 3 in the morning, and woke very cold. I was already using my sleeping bag and my fleece was my pillow, and the blanket provided by the albergue was nowhere to be found. I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn´t. I thought perhaps God wanted me to go ahead and leave, and He seemed to confirm the idea, so I pakced as quietly as I could and when I finished I saw my blanket lying there on the floor. Follow God and He´ll do what´s best for you. Needless to say I went straight to sleep again.
The next morning I said goodbye to the people I met the night before and ate the toast and butter and jelly provided for breakfast and was on my way. It was a steep climb to O´Cebreiro, and a chilly morning, but I made it. I bought a bit of supper at the shop (bread, apples and salami) and visited the church. There was a very profound wooden crucifix behind the altar. I went to bed early after writing a bit in my journal.
Today was all downhill, but I only went about half my usual distance (13 rather than 25). The views were very nice all aroundm, so I took my time at lunch in a pretty little rest area. Now I´m in a place with pay-internet with a very impatient American guy waiting on me. He´s using rather bad language (some referring me) to the person on the phone he´s talking to. On Sunday I will get to Santiago!
One thing worth noting is that as I near the coast I will pass many resteraunts serving pulpa (octopus), a regular part of the Galician cuisine. I know I will probably be able to avoid it if I wish, but I feel rather as though there is a large, slimy octopus eying me beadily from my future and beckoning with its tentacles. Maybe pulpa isn´t so bad...
In Him,
Hunter
Stubble Update: Manlily (adverb form on "manly") bushy on the neck and chin. My chops are actually not too bad, I realized, they just don´t show up very well because the hair is the same color as my skin. Mustache there, but still disappointing.
From Astorga I went up the Montes de Leon and halfway back down to a small village called Acebo. Although the uphill streches are more difficult, I think I like them better than downhills and even flat parts, because they really get the endorphins going, which puts me in a better mood. I pity the people nearby, though, because I also sweat more on the uphills, and I haven´t gotten around to washing my clothes since Carrion. The views on both sides of the mountain were beautiful and the trail was peaceful. On th trail I met an older man from Spain, and have met him several times along the road. He and I speak little, save for inquiries about sleep and weather and time and plans, but he has a paternal air about him and always lights up when he sees me. I stayed that night in a private albergue and joined two older chaps from Austria and Norway for supper. We had pleasant conversation over pretty good food. It was interesting to hear the two of them discussing Earopean politics and their views on the environmental issues. The Norwegian man took a bus from Ponferrada because he´d already done the rest and I´ve seen the Austrian guy every day since. Went to bed early and rose again wel rested for the rest of the downhill.
The next day I passed through the touristy city of Ponferrada, on the way discovering a way to make my boots feel more comfortable: take them off for a mile or so. Yes, I had a bothersome place on my left foot, so I checked with God and took my boots off for the entry into Ponferrada. It was quite painful, but after I washed my feet and put my boots back on, I felt like I was walking on a cloud. It was a very long day to Villafranca del Bierzo, but I finally made it to an albergue I was eager to stay at because of its description in the guidebook. It is run by a man and his family who have dedicated their lives to serving pilgrims and, though it was rustic and the showers were freezing, it was my favortite place to stay on the whole trip. The owner´s son was playing a very Spanish tune on his guitar while I got cleaned up, and I met a variety of people at the communal dinner. There was a cute couple from the Philipines, an African-American mother and daughter from Seattle, a couple cyclists from Brazil, and a woman from central Spain. After the delicious dinner, the son of the owner turned out the lights and the owner brought out a pastry with a candle in it for the Philipino man, who it turned out was turning 67 that day. Everyone was so nice and it was a very peaceful place to stay. That night I slept until about 3 in the morning, and woke very cold. I was already using my sleeping bag and my fleece was my pillow, and the blanket provided by the albergue was nowhere to be found. I tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn´t. I thought perhaps God wanted me to go ahead and leave, and He seemed to confirm the idea, so I pakced as quietly as I could and when I finished I saw my blanket lying there on the floor. Follow God and He´ll do what´s best for you. Needless to say I went straight to sleep again.
The next morning I said goodbye to the people I met the night before and ate the toast and butter and jelly provided for breakfast and was on my way. It was a steep climb to O´Cebreiro, and a chilly morning, but I made it. I bought a bit of supper at the shop (bread, apples and salami) and visited the church. There was a very profound wooden crucifix behind the altar. I went to bed early after writing a bit in my journal.
Today was all downhill, but I only went about half my usual distance (13 rather than 25). The views were very nice all aroundm, so I took my time at lunch in a pretty little rest area. Now I´m in a place with pay-internet with a very impatient American guy waiting on me. He´s using rather bad language (some referring me) to the person on the phone he´s talking to. On Sunday I will get to Santiago!
One thing worth noting is that as I near the coast I will pass many resteraunts serving pulpa (octopus), a regular part of the Galician cuisine. I know I will probably be able to avoid it if I wish, but I feel rather as though there is a large, slimy octopus eying me beadily from my future and beckoning with its tentacles. Maybe pulpa isn´t so bad...
In Him,
Hunter
Stubble Update: Manlily (adverb form on "manly") bushy on the neck and chin. My chops are actually not too bad, I realized, they just don´t show up very well because the hair is the same color as my skin. Mustache there, but still disappointing.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Helen in Santiago
*Wick and I set out this morning from Portos, but it was slow going because my foot has been hurting again. We had to do over 20K yesterday to get to an alburgue that had beds for us. That was more than my foot could handle in its weakened condition. We decided it would be best for both of us, and allow Wick to continue walking, for me to go straight to Santiago. We walked to Palas de Rei,I caught a bus around noon, and arrived in Santiago in about an hour and a half.
Pilgrims (peregrinos) arrive in the Cathedral Plaza throughout the day.*
This scallop shell and inscription are set in the center of the Plaza in front of the Cathedral (Praza Obradoiro). It is considered the official endpoint of the pilgrim's journey on the Camino de Santiago.*
It has been difficult to find a place to stay here because of a big holiday coming up this week. It is Spain's National Day on October 12. After many phone calls and some trudging around the city, I have rooms at four different hotels on the various nights we will be here until we fly home.
Rua Franca*
So Wick and Hunter are out there somewhere on the Camino. Watch out España!
It is a very different experience being on my own in a new place. I hope to learn my way around tomorrow, go to the Cathedral, and generally poke around Santiago.
Shops and the big open air market offer up a variety of tastes.*
I would have thought my Camino experience would have been different. I really enjoyed the walking, even though it was very difficult. So to have to quit was disappointing. I guess it's God's best plan to have me here now by myself, and the guys out on the Camino walking separately by themselves. But then none of us are really by ourselves.
I think God wants us to realize that all of life is a pilgrimage whether you're on the Camino or not.
God's blessings,
Helen
*These entries were added Oct. 19 at home.
Friday, October 5, 2007
The Prayer of a Pilgrim
This is a prayer I came up with that I´ve been praying a lot over the past few days. I kind of like it, and I think God does too.
Lord, give me strength,
that I may walk the road You´ve set before me.
When my strength fails, give me Your passion,
that I may continue past endurance.
Lord, open my eyes,
that I may see Your signs.
When my sight fails, open my ears,
that I may hear Your guiding voice.
Lord, give me the heart,
that I may share Your love with those I meet long the way.
When my heart quails,
bring me home.
(A prayer cairn)
Lord, give me strength,
that I may walk the road You´ve set before me.
When my strength fails, give me Your passion,
that I may continue past endurance.
Lord, open my eyes,
that I may see Your signs.
When my sight fails, open my ears,
that I may hear Your guiding voice.
Lord, give me the heart,
that I may share Your love with those I meet long the way.
When my heart quails,
bring me home.
(A prayer cairn)
Day 15 of (sort of) Walking:
Well, first of all, I think a lot of you must be wondering whether I´m still alive after my long absence from the online scene. Let me assure you I am alive and well. I took a bus to Astorga today, which I know is a scandalous thing for me to do, but before you all set about condemning my weakness, listen to my reasons. A: I have been a little under the weather the past couple of days, so I figured a day of rest would help me recover better than a day of walking. B: I saved a day by skipping 71.8 km (about 43 miles, or two days´worth) which means, according to my plan, that I can get to Santiago on the 14th now, rather than the 15th, which will give me a day to possibly walk to Finisterre. C: Had I walked today, I would have had to go through Leon, the largest city I have come to yet. Given my track record for getting lost in every big city I come to (Pamplona, Logroño, Burgos) I thought it unlikely that I would be able to get in and out of Leon in less than three days. So, I think those are good enough reasons, and if you still don´t, then I think you will be convinced otherwise when I present you with a genuine scallop shell from the shores of Finisterre itself...
Anyway, to update you all on what I´ve been up to the past week, on the 30th I walked through Burgos on the mostly flat terrain. I noticed that as I got closer to the city, both the buildings and the people appeared more and more unfriendly. Once I got into the city I showed my incredible skills of navigations by immediately getting lost. Fortunately, the cathedral in Burgos is gigantic (and beautiful) so I was able to find my way to it by never letting the spires out of my sight (perhaps a lesson about the church is in that experience?) Once again on the Camino, I left the city, noticing that the people and buildings looked friendlier and friendlier as I went. I had planned that night to stay at the albergue in Rabe de las Calzados, at the foot of the Meseta, a series of barren plateus. Contrary to what the guidebook said, the albergue was closed (could have been because it was Sunday.) As I was wondering what to do, it started to rain. I decided to walk the five more miles to the next town, which was a miserable five miles indeed. I finally got there, however, and got a mattress and hot shower. The bar was so crowded I decided to eat my chocolate with nuts (which was enough for God to fill me) for dinner and wait until breakfast.
The next day the bar looked closed, so I left the town and came to a tiny little place in the next valley between plateus. It was run by a nice German girl who fixed me a delicious toast with cheese and a slice of tomato and a couple eggs. It was perhaps the best meal I´ve eaten on this trip. Fortified, I continued through the rain to Itero de la Vega, passing GTG#3 (German tour group number three), who were walking through the Meseta with umbrellas and without packs. I tried not to make my disapproval too evident as I passed their bus, but I couldn´t resist a little shake of the head. There were few people at the albergue, except for a few French and French Canadians (oh, and one Italian), who were all very nice. Dinner was provided, a delicious paella (with chicken, clams, mussels, shrimp, and calamari) and then a choice of fish, chicken, eggs, or pork. I chose the pork, which turned out to be delicious. I drank a lot of wine that night, which forced me to go to bed early. I woke the next morning very refreshed, had the offered breakfast of toast, cafe-con-leche, and jam, and was on my way.
It was about this time I realized I was running very low on cash. In the next town I arrived in, there were several ATMs, none of which worked with my card for my savings account (turning my relief to dread.) I had brief visions of juggling on the street in Carrion in order to get the cash I needed, but Dad/Wick told me that their credit card would work at ATMs as well. Whew! Despite my relief at not having to be a street performer, I was still feeling pretty wretched, for the rain had continued in the morning, and I had walked over 100 kilometers in the last three days. God provided a three star hotel that night (which was really cool because it used to be a monastery), effectively rebuking me for whining and rewarding me for my efforts through the hardship. After a luxurious bath, I explored the church (which, upon exiting, I found out I was not supposed to do after 8:00.) It was dark, which made the tombs of the counts a little creepy, but it was still a cool experience. That night for dinner I joined what appeared to be an American (cringe) tour group in the resteraunt. I slept sooo well that night and had a hearty breakfast and was on my way.
I had another long day to Sahagun, sometime along the way passing the halfway point to Santiago. I also developed a bit of a scratchy throat. It rained a bit more that afternoon, and I was on the verge of emotional and physical collapse when I came to another hotel on the outskirts of th city. It wasn´t the place I had planned to stay, but it was the closest, and thus the best choice. My approach to the city was a very spiritual experience, for every time my legs threatened to give way, God would answer my cry and give me a new strength. I was so tired I had to skip supper again and go straight to sleep. I ate a huge breakfast in the hotel´s cafeteria the next morning, though, and drank plenty of orange juice to aid my throat, which had worsened over the night.
That day I walked the flat (yet still gruelling) distance to Mansilla de las Mulas, buying a couple apples and some cough drops along the way, which have helped a lot. Along the way I met a German woman who was kind and seemed rather starved for some company. My pace was a little faster than hers, though, so I took what moments of solitude I could to think. The landscape was quite beautiful, with plains stretching in every direction and some very distant mountains ahead (Montes de Leon.) It reminded me of C.S. Lewis´ The Great Divorce, which provoked my thoughts even more. I arrived at the large and crowded albergue there and ate a small tuna pastry at the cafe and my other apple for dinner, then went straight to sleep. Before going to bed I decided to take the bus to Astorga for the reasons I listed above. I still do not regret my decision.
From my last post to Mansilla de las Mulas, I walked nearly a hundred miles, with little food some days. I bussed to Leon this morning, then bought a ticket to Astorga. I got a little confused when the time came for the bus to leave, because I wasn´t quite sure which bus to board. There was a bus that said it was going further than Astorga, so I had the idea that it would stop in Astorga along the way, but I wasn´t sure. Thus, I missed my bus, but as it left I helped a tiny old lady carry her heavy bag into the station, so God used my misunderstanding of the transit system to some good. I was able to rectify my mistake and board the next bus, though I had to wait another hour. I was glad to be skipping the appraoch into the city, for it was very busy and ugly, as was a fair amount of the distance between Leon and Astorga. When I got to Astorga I scoped out the hotel which, according to the guidebook, has an award-winning resteraunt and got a room. I left my stuff in there and took some time to be a tourist and visited some of the plazas and monuments. I then did a bit of shopping and returned to my room for a three-hour nap. That pretty much brings us up to the present.
Over the past week I have seen and experienced many things. For a few days, I walked through horrible weather on rough roads, but God revealed to me that He is with me throughout the way, from the kindness of the German girl in the Meseta to the luxurious stay in the monastery to the fact that I still have strength to walk the road ahead. I miss my family and friends at home (and in Spain. It´s been a long time since I´ve seen Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick), but despite my lonliness I am not alone.
In Him,
Hunter
P.S. I kind of wish I had the camera with me, because over the past few days I´ve been seeing what literally look like hobbit-holes. No joke, I have seen at least three grassy hills with doors and windows and chimneys (and radio antennae.) Some have artificial porches, but all appear to have the main house inside the hill. Perhaps my increasing resemblance to Aragorn will coax a hobbit or two out to meet me, which brings me to:
Stubble Update: Pleasingly bushy on the chin and neck. I find it hard not to play with, because it´s such a novel feeling. Mustache still leaves much to be desired, but it is there. Chops still a little patchy, but another week ought to fix that.
Anyway, to update you all on what I´ve been up to the past week, on the 30th I walked through Burgos on the mostly flat terrain. I noticed that as I got closer to the city, both the buildings and the people appeared more and more unfriendly. Once I got into the city I showed my incredible skills of navigations by immediately getting lost. Fortunately, the cathedral in Burgos is gigantic (and beautiful) so I was able to find my way to it by never letting the spires out of my sight (perhaps a lesson about the church is in that experience?) Once again on the Camino, I left the city, noticing that the people and buildings looked friendlier and friendlier as I went. I had planned that night to stay at the albergue in Rabe de las Calzados, at the foot of the Meseta, a series of barren plateus. Contrary to what the guidebook said, the albergue was closed (could have been because it was Sunday.) As I was wondering what to do, it started to rain. I decided to walk the five more miles to the next town, which was a miserable five miles indeed. I finally got there, however, and got a mattress and hot shower. The bar was so crowded I decided to eat my chocolate with nuts (which was enough for God to fill me) for dinner and wait until breakfast.
The next day the bar looked closed, so I left the town and came to a tiny little place in the next valley between plateus. It was run by a nice German girl who fixed me a delicious toast with cheese and a slice of tomato and a couple eggs. It was perhaps the best meal I´ve eaten on this trip. Fortified, I continued through the rain to Itero de la Vega, passing GTG#3 (German tour group number three), who were walking through the Meseta with umbrellas and without packs. I tried not to make my disapproval too evident as I passed their bus, but I couldn´t resist a little shake of the head. There were few people at the albergue, except for a few French and French Canadians (oh, and one Italian), who were all very nice. Dinner was provided, a delicious paella (with chicken, clams, mussels, shrimp, and calamari) and then a choice of fish, chicken, eggs, or pork. I chose the pork, which turned out to be delicious. I drank a lot of wine that night, which forced me to go to bed early. I woke the next morning very refreshed, had the offered breakfast of toast, cafe-con-leche, and jam, and was on my way.
It was about this time I realized I was running very low on cash. In the next town I arrived in, there were several ATMs, none of which worked with my card for my savings account (turning my relief to dread.) I had brief visions of juggling on the street in Carrion in order to get the cash I needed, but Dad/Wick told me that their credit card would work at ATMs as well. Whew! Despite my relief at not having to be a street performer, I was still feeling pretty wretched, for the rain had continued in the morning, and I had walked over 100 kilometers in the last three days. God provided a three star hotel that night (which was really cool because it used to be a monastery), effectively rebuking me for whining and rewarding me for my efforts through the hardship. After a luxurious bath, I explored the church (which, upon exiting, I found out I was not supposed to do after 8:00.) It was dark, which made the tombs of the counts a little creepy, but it was still a cool experience. That night for dinner I joined what appeared to be an American (cringe) tour group in the resteraunt. I slept sooo well that night and had a hearty breakfast and was on my way.
I had another long day to Sahagun, sometime along the way passing the halfway point to Santiago. I also developed a bit of a scratchy throat. It rained a bit more that afternoon, and I was on the verge of emotional and physical collapse when I came to another hotel on the outskirts of th city. It wasn´t the place I had planned to stay, but it was the closest, and thus the best choice. My approach to the city was a very spiritual experience, for every time my legs threatened to give way, God would answer my cry and give me a new strength. I was so tired I had to skip supper again and go straight to sleep. I ate a huge breakfast in the hotel´s cafeteria the next morning, though, and drank plenty of orange juice to aid my throat, which had worsened over the night.
That day I walked the flat (yet still gruelling) distance to Mansilla de las Mulas, buying a couple apples and some cough drops along the way, which have helped a lot. Along the way I met a German woman who was kind and seemed rather starved for some company. My pace was a little faster than hers, though, so I took what moments of solitude I could to think. The landscape was quite beautiful, with plains stretching in every direction and some very distant mountains ahead (Montes de Leon.) It reminded me of C.S. Lewis´ The Great Divorce, which provoked my thoughts even more. I arrived at the large and crowded albergue there and ate a small tuna pastry at the cafe and my other apple for dinner, then went straight to sleep. Before going to bed I decided to take the bus to Astorga for the reasons I listed above. I still do not regret my decision.
From my last post to Mansilla de las Mulas, I walked nearly a hundred miles, with little food some days. I bussed to Leon this morning, then bought a ticket to Astorga. I got a little confused when the time came for the bus to leave, because I wasn´t quite sure which bus to board. There was a bus that said it was going further than Astorga, so I had the idea that it would stop in Astorga along the way, but I wasn´t sure. Thus, I missed my bus, but as it left I helped a tiny old lady carry her heavy bag into the station, so God used my misunderstanding of the transit system to some good. I was able to rectify my mistake and board the next bus, though I had to wait another hour. I was glad to be skipping the appraoch into the city, for it was very busy and ugly, as was a fair amount of the distance between Leon and Astorga. When I got to Astorga I scoped out the hotel which, according to the guidebook, has an award-winning resteraunt and got a room. I left my stuff in there and took some time to be a tourist and visited some of the plazas and monuments. I then did a bit of shopping and returned to my room for a three-hour nap. That pretty much brings us up to the present.
Over the past week I have seen and experienced many things. For a few days, I walked through horrible weather on rough roads, but God revealed to me that He is with me throughout the way, from the kindness of the German girl in the Meseta to the luxurious stay in the monastery to the fact that I still have strength to walk the road ahead. I miss my family and friends at home (and in Spain. It´s been a long time since I´ve seen Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick), but despite my lonliness I am not alone.
In Him,
Hunter
P.S. I kind of wish I had the camera with me, because over the past few days I´ve been seeing what literally look like hobbit-holes. No joke, I have seen at least three grassy hills with doors and windows and chimneys (and radio antennae.) Some have artificial porches, but all appear to have the main house inside the hill. Perhaps my increasing resemblance to Aragorn will coax a hobbit or two out to meet me, which brings me to:
Stubble Update: Pleasingly bushy on the chin and neck. I find it hard not to play with, because it´s such a novel feeling. Mustache still leaves much to be desired, but it is there. Chops still a little patchy, but another week ought to fix that.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Wick´s Life Lessons from the Camino
*This past Sunday after walking in the rain for about four hours I came to what Henry Blackeby in Experiencing God calls a crisis of belief. Why in the world were we putting ourselves through this difficult pilgrimage? Every little thing seems difficult at times, i.e. getting enough good food, washing clothes, finding a place to stay, finding a restroom (or bush), just walking, etc. Fortunately, we came to a beautiful little private hostel/restaurant and were able to get a room. Helen and I then had the afternoon to reflect and rest. God knew exactly what I needed. In my time of reflection, I wrote the following. They are no in any particular order.
1. God is in both the highs and lows. (My spirits and the trail.)
2. God provides just what you need when you need it.
3. Even with God´s beautiful creation all around, too much of the time I am still focused on slogging through it and making "progress" rather than just enjoying it.
4. Pain is a real part of this fallen world, but God is with you in it. (Helen is a great example to me.)
5. I have an incredibly comfortable life compared to most of the world and need to appreciate it and be more thankful.
6. I can do with a lot less than I have now. There are very few real necessities.
7. Possessions are heavy to carry. Our need to have our stuff on this trip has made our packs (with water) weigh around 25 pounds. That is a lot to carry all day long. Unnecessary stuff should be given away to lighten the load.
8. We only think we know where we are, but most of the time do not. Only God really knows and can give us His perspective. (We were walking into Pamplona and thought we were in the city only to find out the next day we were just in the outskirts in a suburb.) Only by being in fellowship with God can we get our true bearings.
9. God´s provision is in all things both big and small. I need to acknowledge His provision of everything.
10. Just because things don´t go as expected does not mean they aren´t going well. Go with God´s flow. (An example of this is that I was disappointed in not being able to walk more of the camino. My usual "not acomplishing enough" attitude showing itself. However, by slowing down and not being in a hurry, I can enjoy the moment and particulary this time with Helen. Also, there is no big time pressure to get to Santiago. We have plenty of time and will get there when we get there.)
11. Each step on the trail is a gift to be enjoyed and appreciated. We ate dinner with a girl the other night who had stayed in an alburgue one night and a man died in his sleep from an apparant heart attack.
12. I really am a selfish slug who likes his creature comforts. Alburgue living is helping me to appreciate and value my comfortable life at home.
13. Blessings abound and it is just a matter of recognizing them.
From the trail,
Wick
This bank of hydrangeas was in front of a large residence on the Camino. The flower clusters were about 14" across. Gorgeous.*
*These were added Oct.19. at home.
October 3, Day 13 of Walking, Helen and Wick
Foggy Spanish morning*
Hi Everyone,
We haven´t had access to internet for a few days, so have not been able to post a new entry. Hilary and Haley are actually posting this one for us, because the computer available to us has a Windows 98 operating system that won´t cooperate with us.
*Today is Wick´s (and Lynn´s) birthday. We are celebrating by staying in a nice hotel rather than an alburgue with many other peregrinos in the same room like the last few nights. We are having our laundry washed and dried, also a treat, and have had a very relaxing afternoon here in Portomarin.
*Since we posted the last time, we rode the bus to Astorga, walked to Rabanel del Camino, caught a taxi to Ponferrada, bus to Lugo, changed buses and continued to Sarria.
Sarria is an entry point for many peregrinos wanting to earn their Compostela by walking at least the last 100 K to Santiago. Consequently, we have encountered an increased number of people walking, and staying in the alburgues. We have met a lot of nice, interesting people from all over. We have only met two other Americans--one from Kentucky, and one from New Orleans. There are many Germans, Canadians, French Canadians, and Spanish people. Communication is interesting at the big tables for dinner. We end up speaking a little French, a little English, a little Spanish. We all pool our language skills to figure out what´s on the menu and order. But no one seems to be able to understand the language of a certain Southern gentleman, who is my companion on this adventure. They struggle along as best they can with Wick´s accent for awhile, look at me to translate, or just give up and start eating their food. (No one seems to understand, "Hey, where are y'all from?") But he continues to be his friendly, smiley self when he´s trying to talk to them, so they know he´s being nice. Today when we met the man from New Orleans, they were both beaming, because they had the same thick Southern accents. Finally, someone who could truly understand!
*The Camino goes through some shaded woods, too. Here's an early foggy morning with dew still on the multitude of cobwebs near the path.
To update you on the saga of my foot...God continues to allow it to work--hurray--but it's painful. I'm so thankful for my good, supportive boots and comfy socks. I think it's probably some sort of tendon, or ligament deal on the top of my foot, but without my son-in-law nearby to diagnose me, I don't really know what it is. Once I get into a stride, God gives me the grace to keep it going. Thanks for your prayers on our behalf.
Sorry not to have another photo entry, but as soon as we can we will update with photos.
As you can imagine, we have many, and video to boot. But that will come later.
Hasta Luego,
Helen
*These were added on Oct.19 at home.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Day 9 of Walking: Planning Ahead
There´re a few errors in Mom/Helen´s entry below. Mainly date-wise, but they are of no huge consequence, and far be it from my authority to edit my own parent´s log. I can´t say I blame her since I can´t remember enough about any day before yesterday to correct her. On the the events of yesterday:
Yesterday I left Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick in Najera in order to go to a town called Castildelgado, which the guidebook did not say much about, save that there was a hotel there. I imagined a small pueblo with a family-run hotel. After a looong day of walking, however, I stepped into a truck stop with a Holiday Inn-ish hotel and a diner-type resteraunt. The room I was given was smaller, room and bathroom combined, than my bedroom alone. The bathroom was especially amusing, since while sitting at the toilet, my knees were under the sink, and the half-bathtub was just too small for me to sit Indian-style in. The bed was comfortable, though, and the dinner in the resteraunt served pretty good "home-cooking" food. In the morning I had a croissant and a cafe-con-leche and was on my way.
While I ate dinner last night I figured out my necessary average daily kilometer-age in order to reach Santiago on foot alone. I then plotted a day-by-day route. Today I had quite a trek planned, especially since some pretty steep mountains were involved. This morning was quite cold, so I was forced to wear my fleece. The clouds threatened rain all day, though they never carried out their threat. The sunrise through the cloudbreaks was quite beautiful, especially because of the distant mountains that surround this area of Spain. Most of the day I had a broad range of songs goings through my head, sometimes coming out of my mouth. I did a bit of serious thinking on the less scenic paths, though even those were pretty, with pine forest on each side. I passed yet another German tour group this afternoon who, fresh from their bus, were hard to get past. (I passed the first one several days ago at the famous wine-spicket in the Irache monastery. They were all fairly elderly but kind, and treated me, a true peregrino, like a celebrity.)
Tonight I am staying in a municipal Albergue, which is attached to a resteraunt with internet. There´s a TV on which is tuned to the SciFi channel, which was showing a dubbed episode of Star Trek but is now showing some sort of low-budget futuristic superhero movie. The facilities here are clean, if not particularly good. My shower was a warm one rather than a hot one, and the clothes dryer doesn´t work. They do, however, have sinks with built-in ceramic washboards (I think that´s pretty cool.) I washed some underwear and my fleece, which smelled pretty bad. I´m excited about the early dinner, because it means means I can go to bed earlier tonight. Until next time...
In Him,
Hunter
Stubble Update: Mustache visible (at last!) Chin and neck well-covered. For some strange reason all the hair is a blonde-ish color rather than dark brown like my head-hair.
Just tilt your head to the right...
Yesterday I left Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick in Najera in order to go to a town called Castildelgado, which the guidebook did not say much about, save that there was a hotel there. I imagined a small pueblo with a family-run hotel. After a looong day of walking, however, I stepped into a truck stop with a Holiday Inn-ish hotel and a diner-type resteraunt. The room I was given was smaller, room and bathroom combined, than my bedroom alone. The bathroom was especially amusing, since while sitting at the toilet, my knees were under the sink, and the half-bathtub was just too small for me to sit Indian-style in. The bed was comfortable, though, and the dinner in the resteraunt served pretty good "home-cooking" food. In the morning I had a croissant and a cafe-con-leche and was on my way.
While I ate dinner last night I figured out my necessary average daily kilometer-age in order to reach Santiago on foot alone. I then plotted a day-by-day route. Today I had quite a trek planned, especially since some pretty steep mountains were involved. This morning was quite cold, so I was forced to wear my fleece. The clouds threatened rain all day, though they never carried out their threat. The sunrise through the cloudbreaks was quite beautiful, especially because of the distant mountains that surround this area of Spain. Most of the day I had a broad range of songs goings through my head, sometimes coming out of my mouth. I did a bit of serious thinking on the less scenic paths, though even those were pretty, with pine forest on each side. I passed yet another German tour group this afternoon who, fresh from their bus, were hard to get past. (I passed the first one several days ago at the famous wine-spicket in the Irache monastery. They were all fairly elderly but kind, and treated me, a true peregrino, like a celebrity.)
Tonight I am staying in a municipal Albergue, which is attached to a resteraunt with internet. There´s a TV on which is tuned to the SciFi channel, which was showing a dubbed episode of Star Trek but is now showing some sort of low-budget futuristic superhero movie. The facilities here are clean, if not particularly good. My shower was a warm one rather than a hot one, and the clothes dryer doesn´t work. They do, however, have sinks with built-in ceramic washboards (I think that´s pretty cool.) I washed some underwear and my fleece, which smelled pretty bad. I´m excited about the early dinner, because it means means I can go to bed earlier tonight. Until next time...
In Him,
Hunter
Stubble Update: Mustache visible (at last!) Chin and neck well-covered. For some strange reason all the hair is a blonde-ish color rather than dark brown like my head-hair.
Just tilt your head to the right...
Friday, September 28, 2007
Day 8 of Walking--Helen and Wick
Hola, Amigos,
We are in Burgos, a large city in the region of Castilla and Leon. Wick and I walked from Navarette to Najera yesterday, 17K. Hunter walked twice that far (see his entry from last night). Wick and I decided to take a bus to Burgos and spend the day recovering, but Hunter is trooping on past Santo Domingo to a little village with an alburgue. The weather has been beautiful today, and for the first time we are wearing our fleece jackets. Ironic, since we thought we would be wearing our warm clothes in the altitude of the mountains at the beginning of the walk. We much prefer the small towns and countryside to the cities, but Burgos has a lot of green space, so it´s one of the prettier big cities we have entered. Wick and I are realizing that there´s no way we can keep up with Hunter, and the first days we were together we held him back, not that he complained. So we are planning to do our camino walking, riding on buses, whatever, and see him when we can. We need more recovery time than he does, and that can be when we do our reflection about our walking, scripture reading, and so on.
God is showing us a lot about ourselves. We are weaker than we thought in areas we thought strong, and stronger than we thought in areas we thought weak...all by God´s grace.
*
Yesterday we walked through miles and miles of vineyards, full of ripe grapes. Well-tended plants were loaded with fruit. And we noticed that the fruit was all located on the branches, but very close to the big, strong vine. God brought to mind John 15, and gave us this beautiful picture of the fruit developing best that is closest to The Source of nourishment.
Unfruitful vines are indeed pruned, thrown into a pile and burned, like these.*
This stunning object lesson of the vineyard is punctuated by the fact that Wick and I are reading through the book of John right now. God is amazing when He puts things like that together!
God´s Peace,
Helen
*These photos were added Oct.19 at home.
We are in Burgos, a large city in the region of Castilla and Leon. Wick and I walked from Navarette to Najera yesterday, 17K. Hunter walked twice that far (see his entry from last night). Wick and I decided to take a bus to Burgos and spend the day recovering, but Hunter is trooping on past Santo Domingo to a little village with an alburgue. The weather has been beautiful today, and for the first time we are wearing our fleece jackets. Ironic, since we thought we would be wearing our warm clothes in the altitude of the mountains at the beginning of the walk. We much prefer the small towns and countryside to the cities, but Burgos has a lot of green space, so it´s one of the prettier big cities we have entered. Wick and I are realizing that there´s no way we can keep up with Hunter, and the first days we were together we held him back, not that he complained. So we are planning to do our camino walking, riding on buses, whatever, and see him when we can. We need more recovery time than he does, and that can be when we do our reflection about our walking, scripture reading, and so on.
God is showing us a lot about ourselves. We are weaker than we thought in areas we thought strong, and stronger than we thought in areas we thought weak...all by God´s grace.
* Yesterday we walked through miles and miles of vineyards, full of ripe grapes. Well-tended plants were loaded with fruit. And we noticed that the fruit was all located on the branches, but very close to the big, strong vine. God brought to mind John 15, and gave us this beautiful picture of the fruit developing best that is closest to The Source of nourishment.
Unfruitful vines are indeed pruned, thrown into a pile and burned, like these.*
This stunning object lesson of the vineyard is punctuated by the fact that Wick and I are reading through the book of John right now. God is amazing when He puts things like that together!
God´s Peace,
Helen
*These photos were added Oct.19 at home.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Day 6 of Walking: Lead the way, God
Whew! What a day! I feel like I´ve been walking for 30 miles. Oh wait, I have! I got a bit "lost" today, and by lost I don´t mean I didn´t know where to go, I mean I had no idea where I was. More about that later, though. Let me tell you about yesterday after I left Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick behind. Had a rough time on the old Roman roads, since afer a couple thousand years they´re a bit uneven. I was pretty tired by the time a got up the mountain to a little town called Villamayor Monjardin. There was an Albergue run by a Dutch evangelical group I wanted to check out (mainly because it was the only place to stay for another few miles.) The man and woman running it both spoke English, so I checked in and found that the mattresses were along the same lines as gymnastics pads, only a little thicker. The facilities were good enough, though, so I took a quick shower and went to the pilgrims´ dinner at the town´s bar. I had ordered the non-vegetatian meal, which started with a bowl of chicken soup and ended in some suspicious beef. It was all well-prepared, though, and as long as i avoided the gross parts the meat was tasty. During dinner I sat next to a young man from Norway who spoke very good English and who happened to be another aspiring writer. We had a good conversation during dinner, which ended with some Disney yogurt. That night I spoke some with a French woman and the woman who ran the Albergue while I waited to use the bathroom. They were both very nice, though the woman from France had almost as hard a time following our English as I did their French. Though the mattresses were thin, I slept like a rock that night. It was a pleasant stay, for the people I met if not for the comfort.
I started a little bit before 8 o´clock this morning after a breakfast of fruit, bread, margarine, and jelly. Although I left after almost all the others, I passed them throughout the morning and spoke some more with the French woman. It was a beautiful morning, for the rainclouds to the west were letting loose a fine mist, which made rainows galore. Breathtakingly beautiful, they were, even the ones that were incomplete. I figured that was as good a sign as any to go far today. I decided then and there to walk the 40 kilometers (about 25 miles) to Logroño. I passed through a few pretty towns with large and very old-looking churches and ate lunch at the bar in a tiny village on the Rio de Torres. The husband and wife (neither of whom spoke a word of English) who ran it were very kind, even after I told them I was from the States. He encouraged me to have some wine with my ham and cheese, so I passed an enjoyable half-hour in their courtyard.
Not long after lunch I started on quite the adventure. The Camino intersected with a paved road and a gravel road. Since most of the Camino is gravel and dirt, I naturally decided to continue on that road. Oops! I was only slightly troubled by the lack of yellow arrows and that normally mark the Camino, but my suspicions weren´t confirmed until the gravel road disappeared into the grass. By then I had gone so far I didn´t feel like turning back, so I looked around and figured God would show me a way through with yellow and blue flowers rather than painted signs. As such, I spent the afternoon trying to keep in mind the rainbows this morning, and following the yellow and blue flowers west through empty fields and gravel roads (I´m pretty sure I was trespassing on private property for a lot of it, but fortunately I didn´t see another soul.) A couple times I had to climb up and down slopes by grabbing grass clumps and sliding down jagged rocks on my bottom. God eventually led me to a highway, where I saw a road sign for Logroño. It said 10 kilometers (6.2 miles), and I was already exhausted from my long detour. I walked along the highway, though, still keeping watch for flowers, should God decide to mercifully show me a quicker route. I ended up walking on the highway for the entire time, and wandered through the city for a while due to the infuriatingly lax details of the guidebook´s map. I was able to occassionally spot yellow objects, so I tried to follow them as long as they followed the road signs, but once I was in the town I had to ask for directions. I was literally about to break down emotionally when I found the cathedral and Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick walking by it. We ate dinner and I took a long bath.
Much as I´m thankful for God´s provision by showing my how to get un-lost, I still have to wonder why in the world He had to pick such a long route. Perhaps He is training me for the roads ahead. Until next time, much love and prayer to you all, and goodnight!
In Him,
Hunter
Stubble Update: Filling out quite nicely. Mustache still thin, but the chops are progressing very well. The chin and neck still have the lead, though.
It was about this point, outside Pamplona, that I became smitten with Spain.
I just think windmills are cool.
This it where, according to legend, a pilgrim dying of thirst was offered water by satan if he would renounce God. As soon as the pilgrim refused, St. James appeared to him and gave him water. The guidebook said it's usually dry, but I got a mouthful or two of water from it.
I started a little bit before 8 o´clock this morning after a breakfast of fruit, bread, margarine, and jelly. Although I left after almost all the others, I passed them throughout the morning and spoke some more with the French woman. It was a beautiful morning, for the rainclouds to the west were letting loose a fine mist, which made rainows galore. Breathtakingly beautiful, they were, even the ones that were incomplete. I figured that was as good a sign as any to go far today. I decided then and there to walk the 40 kilometers (about 25 miles) to Logroño. I passed through a few pretty towns with large and very old-looking churches and ate lunch at the bar in a tiny village on the Rio de Torres. The husband and wife (neither of whom spoke a word of English) who ran it were very kind, even after I told them I was from the States. He encouraged me to have some wine with my ham and cheese, so I passed an enjoyable half-hour in their courtyard.
Not long after lunch I started on quite the adventure. The Camino intersected with a paved road and a gravel road. Since most of the Camino is gravel and dirt, I naturally decided to continue on that road. Oops! I was only slightly troubled by the lack of yellow arrows and that normally mark the Camino, but my suspicions weren´t confirmed until the gravel road disappeared into the grass. By then I had gone so far I didn´t feel like turning back, so I looked around and figured God would show me a way through with yellow and blue flowers rather than painted signs. As such, I spent the afternoon trying to keep in mind the rainbows this morning, and following the yellow and blue flowers west through empty fields and gravel roads (I´m pretty sure I was trespassing on private property for a lot of it, but fortunately I didn´t see another soul.) A couple times I had to climb up and down slopes by grabbing grass clumps and sliding down jagged rocks on my bottom. God eventually led me to a highway, where I saw a road sign for Logroño. It said 10 kilometers (6.2 miles), and I was already exhausted from my long detour. I walked along the highway, though, still keeping watch for flowers, should God decide to mercifully show me a quicker route. I ended up walking on the highway for the entire time, and wandered through the city for a while due to the infuriatingly lax details of the guidebook´s map. I was able to occassionally spot yellow objects, so I tried to follow them as long as they followed the road signs, but once I was in the town I had to ask for directions. I was literally about to break down emotionally when I found the cathedral and Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick walking by it. We ate dinner and I took a long bath.
Much as I´m thankful for God´s provision by showing my how to get un-lost, I still have to wonder why in the world He had to pick such a long route. Perhaps He is training me for the roads ahead. Until next time, much love and prayer to you all, and goodnight!
In Him,
Hunter
Stubble Update: Filling out quite nicely. Mustache still thin, but the chops are progressing very well. The chin and neck still have the lead, though.
It was about this point, outside Pamplona, that I became smitten with Spain.
I just think windmills are cool.
This it where, according to legend, a pilgrim dying of thirst was offered water by satan if he would renounce God. As soon as the pilgrim refused, St. James appeared to him and gave him water. The guidebook said it's usually dry, but I got a mouthful or two of water from it.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Day 5 Walking - Helen and Wick
*We have now been walking for 5 days. Today we stopped in Lorca at a beautiful pension. Hunter left us after lunch and is moving on at a faster pace. We now have cell phones to keep in touch when there is service (which is spotty.) The actual trail is very steep and rocky in places and the maps we have do not fully describe the terrain (which is porbably a good thing.) We are finding as we walk that life really slows down and you start to actually see what is around you as well as to hear what your body is saying. We both agree that while the trail and walking have been very demanding physically, it has been wonderful in ways that are difficult to describe. Today we both felt like we were getting our real legs and the pack started to feel better on our backs. We have found that descending grades are tougher on us because there was no way to work those muscles prior to the trip.
*This afternooon we walked across a Roman bridge (2,000 years old) and on portions of a Roman road. We wonder how many of the modern bridges and roads will be here in 2,000 years.
We are learning to see God's hand in everything. Yesterday we were washing our clothes in Pamplona in the only laundromat in town and met Liliana Silva, one of the managers. When she heard we were going to take a cab to meet Hunter at Eunate, she insisted on taking us part way in her own car to save us costs. She is from Peru, married to a Spaniard that she met in Italy while visiting her sister. We also met her two cute daughters, ages 3 months and five years. Her car had the normal ´mom stuff,´ like disney dvds, and Puss-n-Boots action figure (Gato-n-Botas)from the movie Shrek, etc. She knew a lot of English, so between Helen´s little Spanish and Liliana´s English, we learned a lot about her and her family, the children´s schooling, and so on.
Ancient buildings, some in use, some in ruin, perch atop hills and along roadways in the middle of farmlands.*
On Saturday in Zubiri we had one hotel manager treat us like scum ("American and peregrino" seemed to be his attitude.) We walked up the road to the next lower rated hotel and were treated like royalty. On the trail we have met folks from England, Ireland, Philipines, Norway, France, Germany, and Canada, but no other Americans. One Canadian lady was an interior designer and her son was an architect working for Perkins and Will in Canada. (That's for you, Haley!) The countryside is just beautiful. This morning we walked through a vineyard and sampled the grapes. Very sweet! The wine has been good each evening. Each small town we pass through has a very old church. Clearly town life in past generations revolved around the church. We wish it were so today! The church bells toll on the quarter, half, three quarter, and hour except after 1:00 AM or at least they have not woken us after that. It is easy to visualize how men in the fields or shops and women at home would depend on that before modern clocks and watches. There is a peacefulness in the rhythm that is extremely comforting.
--Wick
*These photos were added on Oct.19 at home.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Photos from Day 1 of the Camino: St. Jean to Roncevalles
En route to Roncevalles, we took ten minute breaks every hour to put our feet up (thanks for the good advice from your Army days, Poppy.)
The Spanish air has gone to my head. (Suck in that gut.)
-Hunter
The Pyrenees are breathtakingly beautiful. We see views like this kilometer after kilometer.*
We walk over miles and miles of open land dotted with flocks of sheep, cows, and horses grazing on the lush grass of the mountains. The only sounds are from the ferocious wind buffeting us as we walk, and the tinkling and clanging bells around the animals' necks. *
Yes, this is gorgeous, but it's getting dark and we still have many kilometers to go to reach our alburgue in Roncevalles for the night.*
After walking for thirteen hours from St. Jean-Pied-de-Port, with the last hour or so in total darkness, we arrive at Roncevalles. It is 9:55PM. and the refugio would have been locked for the night at 10PM. We thank God for our headlamps, and for bringing us on in, sore knees and all.*
*These photos and captions were added Oct.19 at home
Saturday, September 22, 2007
God is a Show-off
Well, we´re in Spain now. Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick are in bed and I (Hunter) am in a really noisy bar sitting at a 24-minutes-for-a-Euro computer. I´ll give all you loyal fans a quick recap of the past couple days of flying and train-ing, then give more detail on the good stuff (a.k.a. the walking.)
All our flights were on time and went well. Although my hopes that American Airlines would up the awesome by showing Transformers on the flight to Paris were crushed, the trip overseas was all right, save for the lack of sleep. When we arrived in Paris we were somehow able to make our way to the train station and took the TGV to Bayonne (a restful five hours.) We then joined several other pilgrims on the smaller, regional train to St. Jean. We stayed the night at a pretty nice little hotel.
The first day through the Pyrenees was gruelling. It was about 80% up-hill, and fairly steep at that. Some whining went on, but I won´t say by whom. The scenery was breathtaking, though. The mountains here aren´t quite like the Appalachians or the Rockies because they´re covered not in trees but in grass, so they look really smooth. We got lots of good pictures (most taken by me, surprisingly enough), so hopefully we´ll be able to share them soon. We saw hundreds of sheep and some cattle and some pretty horses and ponies. Our pace was a bit below the signs´ and guidebook´s estimate, so we arrived very late at Roncevalles. The receptionist at the Albergue we slept in was nice enough to watch our packs while we got dinner, and then showed us to our dorm. The facilities were nice, but less private than a hotel.
Today, we descended from the Pyrenees, which was tough on our knees but a little easier than the ascent. We met an English couple in their sixties, Robin and Claire, and bumped in to them several times throughout the day, each encounter a very amusing one. Both of them are full of personality and fun to talk to. About half-way to Zubiri, Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick´s knees couldn´t handle the strain, so while we were taking a break at a sandwich shop, we tried to figure out a way to hire a taxi or some transportation. Providentially, the cute young couple (Oscar and Sandra, who were taking a week-long bike trip) who were sharing a table outside with us were glad to help and called a taxi agency for us. I walked the rest of the way, more fully able to entertain myself with my brain, pray, and consider some of the big decisions that await me at home. I must admit that I was wishing for a taxi near the end, because my feet were killing. I think God was trying to distract me from the pain, though, much like a parent making funny faces to get a baby to stop crying, because He really pulled out all the stops on the scenery (that´s the reason for the title of this blog, for those of you who were wondering.) Today was overcast, but the clouds on the mountains were beautiful.
When I got to Zubiri, Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick had already gotten a couple rooms in one of the hotels, so I took a bath while I waited for them to return from their exploration of the town. After that my memory´s a bit fuzzy, which makes me think I took a nap. We had a hearty supper at our hotel, which is run by a very helpful man, and that pretty much brings us up to the present. Tomorrow we make for Pamplona, and we have a few things to mail to Santiago when we get there!
We feel so blessed to be here. Although the walking has been tough, we´re having a great time. We´re thankful to God that just about everyone we´ve met has been really helpful, even in France. We´re especially thankful for those angels in disguise, Oscar and Sandra. We are keeping you all in our prayers, and we ask that you would do the same for us. Stay tuned for some life lessons from Dad/Wick!
In Him,
Hunter
Stubble Update: About the same as it usually is on Saturdays, when it´s been almost a week since the last shave. Slightly patchy with the promise of improvement. I think the itchy phase is about to begin, and I´m hoping it won´t last too long.
All our flights were on time and went well. Although my hopes that American Airlines would up the awesome by showing Transformers on the flight to Paris were crushed, the trip overseas was all right, save for the lack of sleep. When we arrived in Paris we were somehow able to make our way to the train station and took the TGV to Bayonne (a restful five hours.) We then joined several other pilgrims on the smaller, regional train to St. Jean. We stayed the night at a pretty nice little hotel.
The first day through the Pyrenees was gruelling. It was about 80% up-hill, and fairly steep at that. Some whining went on, but I won´t say by whom. The scenery was breathtaking, though. The mountains here aren´t quite like the Appalachians or the Rockies because they´re covered not in trees but in grass, so they look really smooth. We got lots of good pictures (most taken by me, surprisingly enough), so hopefully we´ll be able to share them soon. We saw hundreds of sheep and some cattle and some pretty horses and ponies. Our pace was a bit below the signs´ and guidebook´s estimate, so we arrived very late at Roncevalles. The receptionist at the Albergue we slept in was nice enough to watch our packs while we got dinner, and then showed us to our dorm. The facilities were nice, but less private than a hotel.
Today, we descended from the Pyrenees, which was tough on our knees but a little easier than the ascent. We met an English couple in their sixties, Robin and Claire, and bumped in to them several times throughout the day, each encounter a very amusing one. Both of them are full of personality and fun to talk to. About half-way to Zubiri, Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick´s knees couldn´t handle the strain, so while we were taking a break at a sandwich shop, we tried to figure out a way to hire a taxi or some transportation. Providentially, the cute young couple (Oscar and Sandra, who were taking a week-long bike trip) who were sharing a table outside with us were glad to help and called a taxi agency for us. I walked the rest of the way, more fully able to entertain myself with my brain, pray, and consider some of the big decisions that await me at home. I must admit that I was wishing for a taxi near the end, because my feet were killing. I think God was trying to distract me from the pain, though, much like a parent making funny faces to get a baby to stop crying, because He really pulled out all the stops on the scenery (that´s the reason for the title of this blog, for those of you who were wondering.) Today was overcast, but the clouds on the mountains were beautiful.
When I got to Zubiri, Mom/Helen and Dad/Wick had already gotten a couple rooms in one of the hotels, so I took a bath while I waited for them to return from their exploration of the town. After that my memory´s a bit fuzzy, which makes me think I took a nap. We had a hearty supper at our hotel, which is run by a very helpful man, and that pretty much brings us up to the present. Tomorrow we make for Pamplona, and we have a few things to mail to Santiago when we get there!
We feel so blessed to be here. Although the walking has been tough, we´re having a great time. We´re thankful to God that just about everyone we´ve met has been really helpful, even in France. We´re especially thankful for those angels in disguise, Oscar and Sandra. We are keeping you all in our prayers, and we ask that you would do the same for us. Stay tuned for some life lessons from Dad/Wick!
In Him,
Hunter
Stubble Update: About the same as it usually is on Saturdays, when it´s been almost a week since the last shave. Slightly patchy with the promise of improvement. I think the itchy phase is about to begin, and I´m hoping it won´t last too long.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Wick's Office Says Adios
This is a cake Dad/Wick's office gave to him the day before our departure. Pretty funny.
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