We walked in to Santiago on October 28th.

Morning sunrise to Santiago

It wasn't without its challenges, but we did it. 800 kilometers. 500 miles. We walked from France to Santiago. I can't wrap my head around the thought. If I hadn't documented it with photos and video, I probably wouldn't believe it.

There was a lot of camino magic that day. We woke up at 4:30 to walk the 20 kilometers to Santiago by 11am and make the noon pilgrim mass. Our group of 6 got split up, so it was really disheartening that we couldn't walk in together, but those feelings were replaced by excitement when we found out that the butafumiero would swing during mass. The butafumiero is a large 60-ish pound silver container that hangs from a rope in the center of the cathedral. Hot coals are put inside to burn incense. A group of men pull on ropes to swing it back and forth. The was done in early times to counter the smell of dirty pilgrims. At its peak, it swings so high that it looks like it will hit the high ceiling, and there is a story that this did happen once. It is truly a magnificent thing to witness. These days, they only swing it on rare occasions and when someone makes a large donation, so I really didn't expect to see it. It felt like camino magic that it happened.



It was a little sad walking in to Santiago that we didn't see any of the faces we had been walking with. Just before mass I was telling Linda who I wished to see. As soon as mass ended, we saw Mitch standing in the door. I had met him night 1. Mitch is a charming man, mayor of the camino. And then we saw a bunch of other faces we knew. We saw practically everyone we hoped to see, and it was unexpected. Camino magic. It brought tears to my eyes I was so moved by the gathering. And so - there was much excitement in the air and celebrating.   We had reached Santiago.

The high comes down quick though, and it is best to keep walking. The next morning was extremely emotional as we said goodbyes, the hardest to Taryn and her partner Kim. Kim joined us a week and a half ago, but Taryn I had met before day 1. I met her on the train from Bayonne to St. Jean. In St. Jean we stayed in different hostels and I thought I would never see her again. Day 1 she sped past me up the hill and I really thought I would never see her again. But she stayed at Orisson where I stayed, and we found ourselves walking in our camino family. I shed many tears saying goodbye.

Last night before Santiago with Taryn and Kim

And we started walking to Finisterre and then Muxia. Another 6 days of walking. It is very different, not to be headed to Santiago, but I'm so glad to be going to the ocean. I think it also would have been hard to leave after Santiago in having such an abrupt finish. Walking to the ocean allows us to ease out of it and walk through the emotions of beginning to let go of this way, this life, these people, this freedom.

But even when it is over, it will not truly be finished. The end - that is when they say the camino really starts.

At this point, we have walked about 300 miles. Some days I couldn't tell you what town we were in the night before. It all runs together. But I can tell you that two nights ago we were in Leon. A big city with a massive and impressive cathedral. We spent two nights there and took our first real rest day. We spoiled ourselves a bit and stayed in a hotel. What luxury we had with long hot showers and towels. Towels!  And to sleep in and not have to pack up and find another place to sleep for the night. I fell asleep those two nights with a beautiful view of one of the towers lit up at night.

Despite being there for nearly 48 hours, the 5 of us split among 3 rooms, not bound to make our decisions together, we found ourselves mostly together, eating meals together and hanging out in one of our rooms. It is so strange to me, someone who needs an almost exorbitant amount of alone time, that when time for that finally came, I wanted to know what everyone else was doing. I preferred the company of the camino family. I would gladly give up my alone time to be with them.

Colleen and Linda

The community aspect of the camino is what hits me most profoundly. Apart from the four I have been walking with from the start, there are many others that you may bump into from time to time that you have already met. We may walk with someone a day or two, lose them, and see them a week later. But someone that you have only met once before suddenly becomes an old friend the next time you see them. And you greet as old friends, so excited with huge smiles.

Recognizing that we who do the camino all do come from a certain amount of privilege, the nature of the walk allows for a certain amount of instant depth with others. We are all on a journey, have pain of some kind, sharing sleeping quarters and showers. You don't know who are the doctors or lawyers or shopkeepers or people who have quit their jobs. There is no need to be defined by where you rank in the real world and so walls between us are not erected. This openness allows for such special depth to happen among people.

Jousting bridge in Hospital

And I have been humbled by the generosity and support I have felt by this community. Whatever you need, it will find a way to you. I have felt extremely cared for and loved by people I have known for less than a month. I am trying to figure out how to bring these community aspects home. How to enact them at home and create spaces of openness that allow others to engage in this way as well.

One exciting piece of news is that I was able to change my flight back to the US. I now do not have to rush to Santiago and can finish 3 days past Santiago in Finisterre. I didn't feel ending at the foot of a gilded church would be sufficient for me. It wouldn't feel finished. But walking to the waves crashing on rocks, to a place that literally means "the end of the world," where the others I have walked with from day 1 will finish, that will be a sufficient end.

How they fix blisters in Mansilla :-)

So after 300 miles I continue on. They say there are 3 stages of struggle: physical, then mental, then spiritual. I am definitely on the mental part. After 4 or 5 days of straight and long roads, sometimes not reaching a village until after 10 miles, it becomes a little weary. Walking isn't always pleasant. It is a mental struggle to remind myself that I want to do this. Because sometimes it just feels crazy. But tomorrow the land gets hilly again, and hopefully we are not too bombarded by wind and rain. The camino holds much magic, and there are miles to go. Tomorrow's magic: a chocolate museum :-)

Sunrise on the camino

I didn't expect the camino to be easy. I just didn't think it would be this hard. [Fair warning: possible complaining ahead]. I tried to come with no expectations, but expectations are inevitable. And so I think I expected the first week or so to be hard, but then blisters would heal and my body would get with the program. Unfortunately that hasn't been the case. With boots that are too small (since feet flatten, swell, and double pairs of socks are worn), blisters have come, and come, and come. Some days my feet hurt so bad that I felt nauseous. I started to doubt that I would walk normal again. But as they say, the camino provides. Linda, one of my camino family, had a pair of hiking sandals that she was looking to get rid of. My feet are much happier and healing and recovering much faster after so much walking. I am starting to walk normal again :-)

Commiserating with weary pilgrims

But if it is not one thing, it is another. A nasty cold has set in. Pair it with rain and wicked winds and you have created the perfect conditions for miserable walking.

My walks are often haunted by my worries as well. I worry that I won't be able to finish the camino before my flight leaves and it will feel horrible to leave yet another thing unfinished.

Being a nomad like this also feels a bit like insanity. The same routine everyday.

I had idealistic notions of a life of simplicity, happily traipsing the land of Spain in deep introspective thought and getting clarity and epiphany after epiphany. The camino gives much, but not without working for it.

Halfway to Santiago!

It is hard, but wonderful. I may not finish the camino having the details of my life figured out, but I come home with many lessons. And clarity is coming. Walking, walking, walking, I am able to work through some big and important things. I feel like I will come home a more whole and authentic Jamie. And despite the hard things, life is pretty grand. Walking, I feel alive, and after walking, there are few chores to do before spending the rest of the evening socializing, catching up with "old friends" (people we have met along the way), drinking $2 wine that is better than any bottle I have tasted at home and eating delicious food (that will be walked off the next day). There are beautiful moments, beautiful souls, and beautiful images that I  am storing up to pull from for a lifetime. Fiery sunrises, a gentle squeeze of the foot for an alarm, a pink wig that causes much belly laughter, singing nuns, fresh tortilla, the relief of crashing on a bed off your feet after 27km of walking. The gratitude you get from clean laundry, a free electrical outlet, and a night without a storm of snoring.

A few photos for your pleasure:

Looking into Roncevaux

At a rest stop. Just follow the shell...

One of the many views on an early morning walk

A Czechoslovakian Truffle to make it to the top...

Day 1. St. Jean Pied de Port to Orisson. 8 kilometers that felt like 18 because of the steep 1000 meter ascent.  The hike up is no joke. Not for the faint of heart. But the thing about walking is that it's really not that hard. You just need to take one step. And then another.

I have big questions to ask. Big ideas to think about. But there are times while walking, perhaps particularly when the conditions make it hard, that your body demands some attention and respect.  Today was one such day. It was all body, and it did me well. And after a tough hike up, we were greatly rewarded with stunning views of the Pyrenees mountains. Rolling green terrain with loosely roaming white bovine and horses providing a background sound of bells.

I mostly walked alone today and the Quaker in me was so very content. I think I will prefer to mostly walk alone. Socializing comes later when there is downtime at the albergue, or hostel. This afternoon I had a glass of wine with a couple of Australian women in their 60's/70's. Even here where there are younger people I still find myself in the company of people twice my age  :-).

Walking on the camino, you find yourself in an instant community of people. And because it generally takes a certain type of person to want to walk 500 miles, I find myself around like-minded people. One of the things I look forward to most are those wonderful meetings with others that leave your soul a little lighter. Towards the end of the hike up, there was a wonderful flat grassy area that was perfect for taking a break. I took a rest as I took in the scenery. I'm sure I looked pretty rough, my face very red. A couple came over to me, younger and from where I am not sure, but the girl said, "for you" and handed me a candy. A Czechoslovakian truffle. The best chocolate I have ever tasted. And I know it made the rest of the trek up just a little easier, both for the sweet sustenance it provided and that it was a gift given from an unknown girl.

The way to St. Jean Pied de Port

How curious that my last blog's title was "I would walk 500 miles" not knowing that the next time I would write, it would be for the sake of truly walking 500 miles.

"Walking, I am listening to a deeper way. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands."

I came across these words by Native American author Linda Hogan about a year and a half ago. I have not been able to stop thinking about these words. They have taken on new meaning as I begin my walking. I had never been this excited about my travels before. One person told me they thought it was because it was the first thing I have really done for myself. I hope that's not the case. It sounds too selfish. I think it has to do with the quote above.

I feel like I have been carried to the camino. For me, it is a walk of gratitude, among other things that I am still defining. The past four years have been very difficult years. If I were a building, it feels as if four years ago, that building were completely destroyed and I have been working and rebuilding to have a livable home. I have been rebuilt, but I did not do it myself. Some wonderful parts have been added by some really lovely people. It is not just a livable home, but it is quite wonderful. So I walk in gratitude.

I will walk. A lot. I will listen in a deeper way. I will ask important questions. And there will be many behind me. Many of you. Reminding me "be still. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of many."