My Next “Camino”

[RobertS26]

When I walked my first Camino, I set out with a change of clothes, some rain gear, a jacket, and toiletries in my backpack. I had a cell phone, but no Euroean chip. Communication would be strictly WiFi. Like most, my emotions bounced back and forth from “how cool is is?” to “this is without question the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

But as each day passed I knew I had made the right decision. Going minimalist and carrying my own backpack was teaching me a valuable lesson. I was happy. In fact, very happy. Yet I had few material possessions around me. And being disconnected from the internet was such a blessing.

Sadly, returning to work caused many of those Camino lessons to fade. So I did two more Caminos as “booster shots.” But again the effects wore off as the dailey grind of life took its toll.

Now, as I approach retirement, I’m giving a lot of thought to what is next. Specifically, what can I do in retirement that will give me the same feeling of joy and happiness that I have found on the Camino.

Well, I just booked tickets to Zimbabwe where I am going to volunteer in an orphanage for three weeks to determine if that sort of thing is going to be my retirement. And I am convinced that I never would have taken the step of volunteering in a place without amenities normally associated with life here in the United States without my Camino experiences.

So my Camino through life starts a new three week path in June.

 

[Deleted member 67185]

This was a wonderful post, Robert. I will be very interested in hearing about the outcome of your stint as a volunteer. I have my suspicions that you will be drawn to this volunteer pathway as you experience working at the orphanage.

There were a few times when I was assigned to temporary duty (TDY) with my helicopter and crew mates to areas of Africa. We were supporting Green Beret special forces advisers. Although there was a military purpose, I spent a lot of time working with the Team's medic in providing immunizations and treatment for villagers and others who walked miles just for the help we could provide.

We also located a well site to access supplies of fresh water, and I spent a lot of time digging and laying pipe for a new waste disposal system to help keep the water free from contamination.

Around the second day I noticed I had a shadow. The shadow was a 6 year old orphaned girl for whom the local villagers cared. She was well nourished, although thin, and relatively healthy. I eventually started calling her 'Velcro' because she stuck with me just about everywhere I went.

Usually when I broke for lunch, I would walk back to the Huey and sit in the opening of the cargo doors. Most of our food was C-Rations, which I could tolerate, but didn't care for. . . at least the main meal can. The crackers, candy, powdered cocoa, etc was OK.

Sure enough, Velcro would be right there with me. For the first couple of days, she kept me at length; she would follow me around, but never too close. When I sat in the Huey's doorway, she would squat down about 6 feet away. On the fourth day, without a word, after I sat down she hopped up and sat beside me. Nor real eye contact, but she would just sort of stare out at her village, swing her little legs back and forth.

My aircraft brought far more cases of C-Rats than we would actually need. . . it was sort of a 'One is none, two is one' type of deal. Better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it. Anyways, I would always break apart a C-Rat and open the cans of stuff for her. Even now I smile at how she acted like those bland tasting meals were manna from heaven. The first time she tasted a fruit cocktail, her eyes got sooo big I thought they would pop out of her head.

I knew I had to be careful about what and how much she ate of our food. But there was enough selection for her and I to enjoy quite lunches together.

After our 6 week TDY was over, we were packing up the Huey to fly out to the exfil airport where we would park our Huey into a C-5 Galaxy for transport back to Germany. Since we were flying that day, I was wearing my Nomex, and my top was just soaking in sweat. I had just finished securing some supplies and turned around to grab something else when I saw Velcro and a village elder standing nearby.

The elder approached and started talking to me. At first I didn't understand the broken English. Then I got that she was asking if I wanted to take Velcro with me. When I understood what was being asked, tears started welling up. I had grown extremely fond of Velcro and I would miss seeing her. But aside of the fact that I was just barely 20 years old, there was no conceivable way on earth that the military or state department or embassy or political reality would ever allow that to happen.

What gave me peace was knowing she was being cared for right where she was. During my time in Vietnam, orphans were rampant. . . street kids living off of scraps and struggling to survive. Velcro was in no danger of being in a similar situation.

I am telling you this story, Robert, because after my time in the Army was over, I was drawn back to Africa time and time again. When I was assigned the TDY mission, I hated the idea of going and if I had a choice I would have opted out. After I got there, something really changed and I grew to love it. The insects and climate and lack of all the modern American conveniences kinda sucked, but I loved working with the people there.

Don't say you weren't warned

 

[Aunt Pitty Pat]

This was a wonderful post, Robert. I will be very interested in hearing about the outcome of your stint as a volunteer. I have my suspicions that you will be drawn to this volunteer pathway as you experience working at the orphanage.

There were a few times when I was assigned to temporary duty (TDY) with my helicopter and crew mates to areas of Africa. We were supporting Green Beret special forces advisers. Although there was a military purpose, I spent a lot of time working with the Team's medic in providing immunizations and treatment for villagers and others who walked miles just for the help we could provide.

We also located a well site to access supplies of fresh water, and I spent a lot of time digging and laying pipe for a new waste disposal system to help keep the water free from contamination.

Around the second day I noticed I had a shadow. The shadow was a 6 year old orphaned girl for whom the local villagers cared. She was well nourished, although thin, and relatively healthy. I eventually started calling her 'Velcro' because she stuck with me just about everywhere I went.

Usually when I broke for lunch, I would walk back to the Huey and sit in the opening of the cargo doors. Most of our food was C-Rations, which I could tolerate, but didn't care for. . . at least the main meal can. The crackers, candy, powdered cocoa, etc was OK.

Sure enough, Velcro would be right there with me. For the first couple of days, she kept me at length; she would follow me around, but never too close. When I sat in the Huey's doorway, she would squat down about 6 feet away. On the fourth day, without a word, after I sat down she hopped up and sat beside me. Nor real eye contact, but she would just sort of stare out at her village, swing her little legs back and forth.

My aircraft brought far more cases of C-Rats than we would actually need. . . it was sort of a 'One is none, two is one' type of deal. Better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it. Anyways, I would always break apart a C-Rat and open the cans of stuff for her. Even now I smile at how she acted like those bland tasting meals were manna from heaven. The first time she tasted a fruit cocktail, her eyes got sooo big I thought they would pop out of her head.

I knew I had to be careful about what and how much she ate of our food. But there was enough selection for her and I to enjoy quite lunches together.

After our 6 week TDY was over, we were packing up the Huey to fly out to the exfil airport where we would park our Huey into a C-5 Galaxy for transport back to Germany. Since we were flying that day, I was wearing my Nomex, and my top was just soaking in sweat. I had just finished securing some supplies and turned around to grab something else when I saw Velcro and a village elder standing nearby.

The elder approached and started talking to me. At first I didn't understand the broken English. Then I got that she was asking if I wanted to take Velcro with me. When I understood what was being asked, tears started welling up. I had grown extremely fond of Velcro and I would miss seeing her. But aside of the fact that I was just barely 20 years old, there was no conceivable way on earth that the military or state department or embassy or political reality would ever allow that to happen.

What gave me peace was knowing she was being cared for right where she was. During my time in Vietnam, orphans were rampant. . . street kids living off of scraps and struggling to survive. Velcro was in no danger of being in a similar situation.

I am telling you this story, Robert, because after my time in the Army was over, I was drawn back to Africa time and time again. When I was assigned the TDY mission, I hated the idea of going and if I had a choice I would have opted out. After I got there, something really changed and I grew to love it. The insects and climate and lack of all the modern American conveniences kinda sucked, but I loved working with the people there.

Don't say you weren't warned

Great story Davebugg! Made my day!

 

[Gail Dickson]

This was a wonderful post, Robert. I will be very interested in hearing about the outcome of your stint as a volunteer. I have my suspicions that you will be drawn to this volunteer pathway as you experience working at the orphanage.

There were a few times when I was assigned to temporary duty (TDY) with my helicopter and crew mates to areas of Africa. We were supporting Green Beret special forces advisers. Although there was a military purpose, I spent a lot of time working with the Team's medic in providing immunizations and treatment for villagers and others who walked miles just for the help we could provide.

We also located a well site to access supplies of fresh water, and I spent a lot of time digging and laying pipe for a new waste disposal system to help keep the water free from contamination.

Around the second day I noticed I had a shadow. The shadow was a 6 year old orphaned girl for whom the local villagers cared. She was well nourished, although thin, and relatively healthy. I eventually started calling her 'Velcro' because she stuck with me just about everywhere I went.

Usually when I broke for lunch, I would walk back to the Huey and sit in the opening of the cargo doors. Most of our food was C-Rations, which I could tolerate, but didn't care for. . . at least the main meal can. The crackers, candy, powdered cocoa, etc was OK.

Sure enough, Velcro would be right there with me. For the first couple of days, she kept me at length; she would follow me around, but never too close. When I sat in the Huey's doorway, she would squat down about 6 feet away. On the fourth day, without a word, after I sat down she hopped up and sat beside me. Nor real eye contact, but she would just sort of stare out at her village, swing her little legs back and forth.

My aircraft brought far more cases of C-Rats than we would actually need. . . it was sort of a 'One is none, two is one' type of deal. Better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it. Anyways, I would always break apart a C-Rat and open the cans of stuff for her. Even now I smile at how she acted like those bland tasting meals were manna from heaven. The first time she tasted a fruit cocktail, her eyes got sooo big I thought they would pop out of her head.

I knew I had to be careful about what and how much she ate of our food. But there was enough selection for her and I to enjoy quite lunches together.

After our 6 week TDY was over, we were packing up the Huey to fly out to the exfil airport where we would park our Huey into a C-5 Galaxy for transport back to Germany. Since we were flying that day, I was wearing my Nomex, and my top was just soaking in sweat. I had just finished securing some supplies and turned around to grab something else when I saw Velcro and a village elder standing nearby.

The elder approached and started talking to me. At first I didn't understand the broken English. Then I got that she was asking if I wanted to take Velcro with me. When I understood what was being asked, tears started welling up. I had grown extremely fond of Velcro and I would miss seeing her. But aside of the fact that I was just barely 20 years old, there was no conceivable way on earth that the military or state department or embassy or political reality would ever allow that to happen.

What gave me peace was knowing she was being cared for right where she was. During my time in Vietnam, orphans were rampant. . . street kids living off of scraps and struggling to survive. Velcro was in no danger of being in a similar situation.

I am telling you this story, Robert, because after my time in the Army was over, I was drawn back to Africa time and time again. When I was assigned the TDY mission, I hated the idea of going and if I had a choice I would have opted out. After I got there, something really changed and I grew to love it. The insects and climate and lack of all the modern American conveniences kinda sucked, but I loved working with the people there.

Don't say you weren't warned

I adore your stories. Beautiful read first thing in the morning.

 

[Deleted member 67185]

I adore your stories. Beautiful read first thing in the morning.

I appreciate the kind words. Just wanting to prep Robert for the possibility that he just might very well experience the same feelings and make this a frequent volunteer experience.

 

[Jami Gray]

When I walked my first Camino, I set out with a change of clothes, some rain gear, a jacket, and toiletries in my backpack. I had a cell phone, but no Euroean chip. Communication would be strictly WiFi. Like most, my emotions bounced back and forth from “how cool is is?” to “this is without question the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

But as each day passed I knew I had made the right decision. Going minimalist and carrying my own backpack was teaching me a valuable lesson. I was happy. In fact, very happy. Yet I had few material possessions around me. And being disconnected from the internet was such a blessing.

Sadly, returning to work caused many of those Camino lessons to fade. So I did two more Caminos as “booster shots.” But again the effects wore off as the dailey grind of life took its toll.

Now, as I approach retirement, I’m giving a lot of thought to what is next. Specifically, what can I do in retirement that will give me the same feeling of joy and happiness that I have found on the Camino.

Well, I just booked tickets to Zimbabwe where I am going to volunteer in an orphanage for three weeks to determine if that sort of thing is going to be my retirement. And I am convinced that I never would have taken the step of volunteering in a place without amenities normally associated with life here in the United States without my Camino experiences.

So my Camino through life starts a new three week path in June.

That is so cool! I too, retired recently, and am trying to decide whether to do my 3rd Camino? or find another adventure to figure things out! Hope to hear how your Zimbabwe trip turns out!!

 

[Celi Anatrella]

When I walked my first Camino, I set out with a change of clothes, some rain gear, a jacket, and toiletries in my backpack. I had a cell phone, but no Euroean chip. Communication would be strictly WiFi. Like most, my emotions bounced back and forth from “how cool is is?” to “this is without question the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

But as each day passed I knew I had made the right decision. Going minimalist and carrying my own backpack was teaching me a valuable lesson. I was happy. In fact, very happy. Yet I had few material possessions around me. And being disconnected from the internet was such a blessing.

Sadly, returning to work caused many of those Camino lessons to fade. So I did two more Caminos as “booster shots.” But again the effects wore off as the dailey grind of life took its toll.

Now, as I approach retirement, I’m giving a lot of thought to what is next. Specifically, what can I do in retirement that will give me the same feeling of joy and happiness that I have found on the Camino.

Well, I just booked tickets to Zimbabwe where I am going to volunteer in an orphanage for three weeks to determine if that sort of thing is going to be my retirement. And I am convinced that I never would have taken the step of volunteering in a place without amenities normally associated with life here in the United States without my Camino experiences.

So my Camino through life starts a new three week path in June.

Buen camino in Africa to you! My hat is off to you!

 

[Celi Anatrella]

This was a wonderful post, Robert. I will be very interested in hearing about the outcome of your stint as a volunteer. I have my suspicions that you will be drawn to this volunteer pathway as you experience working at the orphanage.

There were a few times when I was assigned to temporary duty (TDY) with my helicopter and crew mates to areas of Africa. We were supporting Green Beret special forces advisers. Although there was a military purpose, I spent a lot of time working with the Team's medic in providing immunizations and treatment for villagers and others who walked miles just for the help we could provide.

We also located a well site to access supplies of fresh water, and I spent a lot of time digging and laying pipe for a new waste disposal system to help keep the water free from contamination.

Around the second day I noticed I had a shadow. The shadow was a 6 year old orphaned girl for whom the local villagers cared. She was well nourished, although thin, and relatively healthy. I eventually started calling her 'Velcro' because she stuck with me just about everywhere I went.

Usually when I broke for lunch, I would walk back to the Huey and sit in the opening of the cargo doors. Most of our food was C-Rations, which I could tolerate, but didn't care for. . . at least the main meal can. The crackers, candy, powdered cocoa, etc was OK.

Sure enough, Velcro would be right there with me. For the first couple of days, she kept me at length; she would follow me around, but never too close. When I sat in the Huey's doorway, she would squat down about 6 feet away. On the fourth day, without a word, after I sat down she hopped up and sat beside me. Nor real eye contact, but she would just sort of stare out at her village, swing her little legs back and forth.

My aircraft brought far more cases of C-Rats than we would actually need. . . it was sort of a 'One is none, two is one' type of deal. Better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it. Anyways, I would always break apart a C-Rat and open the cans of stuff for her. Even now I smile at how she acted like those bland tasting meals were manna from heaven. The first time she tasted a fruit cocktail, her eyes got sooo big I thought they would pop out of her head.

I knew I had to be careful about what and how much she ate of our food. But there was enough selection for her and I to enjoy quite lunches together.

After our 6 week TDY was over, we were packing up the Huey to fly out to the exfil airport where we would park our Huey into a C-5 Galaxy for transport back to Germany. Since we were flying that day, I was wearing my Nomex, and my top was just soaking in sweat. I had just finished securing some supplies and turned around to grab something else when I saw Velcro and a village elder standing nearby.

The elder approached and started talking to me. At first I didn't understand the broken English. Then I got that she was asking if I wanted to take Velcro with me. When I understood what was being asked, tears started welling up. I had grown extremely fond of Velcro and I would miss seeing her. But aside of the fact that I was just barely 20 years old, there was no conceivable way on earth that the military or state department or embassy or political reality would ever allow that to happen.

What gave me peace was knowing she was being cared for right where she was. During my time in Vietnam, orphans were rampant. . . street kids living off of scraps and struggling to survive. Velcro was in no danger of being in a similar situation.

I am telling you this story, Robert, because after my time in the Army was over, I was drawn back to Africa time and time again. When I was assigned the TDY mission, I hated the idea of going and if I had a choice I would have opted out. After I got there, something really changed and I grew to love it. The insects and climate and lack of all the modern American conveniences kinda sucked, but I loved working with the people there.

Don't say you weren't warned

What a great story. Thank you for sharing it. It warmed my heart and gave me hope today. Buen camino to you!

 

[longwalker60]

This was a wonderful post, Robert. I will be very interested in hearing about the outcome of your stint as a volunteer. I have my suspicions that you will be drawn to this volunteer pathway as you experience working at the orphanage.

There were a few times when I was assigned to temporary duty (TDY) with my helicopter and crew mates to areas of Africa. We were supporting Green Beret special forces advisers. Although there was a military purpose, I spent a lot of time working with the Team's medic in providing immunizations and treatment for villagers and others who walked miles just for the help we could provide.

We also located a well site to access supplies of fresh water, and I spent a lot of time digging and laying pipe for a new waste disposal system to help keep the water free from contamination.

Around the second day I noticed I had a shadow. The shadow was a 6 year old orphaned girl for whom the local villagers cared. She was well nourished, although thin, and relatively healthy. I eventually started calling her 'Velcro' because she stuck with me just about everywhere I went.

Usually when I broke for lunch, I would walk back to the Huey and sit in the opening of the cargo doors. Most of our food was C-Rations, which I could tolerate, but didn't care for. . . at least the main meal can. The crackers, candy, powdered cocoa, etc was OK.

Sure enough, Velcro would be right there with me. For the first couple of days, she kept me at length; she would follow me around, but never too close. When I sat in the Huey's doorway, she would squat down about 6 feet away. On the fourth day, without a word, after I sat down she hopped up and sat beside me. Nor real eye contact, but she would just sort of stare out at her village, swing her little legs back and forth.

My aircraft brought far more cases of C-Rats than we would actually need. . . it was sort of a 'One is none, two is one' type of deal. Better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it. Anyways, I would always break apart a C-Rat and open the cans of stuff for her. Even now I smile at how she acted like those bland tasting meals were manna from heaven. The first time she tasted a fruit cocktail, her eyes got sooo big I thought they would pop out of her head.

I knew I had to be careful about what and how much she ate of our food. But there was enough selection for her and I to enjoy quite lunches together.

After our 6 week TDY was over, we were packing up the Huey to fly out to the exfil airport where we would park our Huey into a C-5 Galaxy for transport back to Germany. Since we were flying that day, I was wearing my Nomex, and my top was just soaking in sweat. I had just finished securing some supplies and turned around to grab something else when I saw Velcro and a village elder standing nearby.

The elder approached and started talking to me. At first I didn't understand the broken English. Then I got that she was asking if I wanted to take Velcro with me. When I understood what was being asked, tears started welling up. I had grown extremely fond of Velcro and I would miss seeing her. But aside of the fact that I was just barely 20 years old, there was no conceivable way on earth that the military or state department or embassy or political reality would ever allow that to happen.

What gave me peace was knowing she was being cared for right where she was. During my time in Vietnam, orphans were rampant. . . street kids living off of scraps and struggling to survive. Velcro was in no danger of being in a similar situation.

I am telling you this story, Robert, because after my time in the Army was over, I was drawn back to Africa time and time again. When I was assigned the TDY mission, I hated the idea of going and if I had a choice I would have opted out. After I got there, something really changed and I grew to love it. The insects and climate and lack of all the modern American conveniences kinda sucked, but I loved working with the people there.

Don't say you weren't warned

Great story...you are an inspiration. God Bless!

 

[Rhun Leeding]

Hi Robert,

It sounds like a wonderful volunteering opportunity, although I'm not fully sure about the political situation there after Mugabe. I hope the opportunity you receive fills your heart as much as it can do.
Dave - Absolutely love your story, amazing how you can feel like what you offer is nothing to you, but it has a huge impact on others.

xxx

 

[Doug Delfeld]

Hi Robert and Davebugg ;
Robert, some times we try to plan too far into the future. Going to Africa and volunteering is one experience. It may not be forever but it my open a new door for what God has instore for you.
And Davebugg, you gave Velcro a love that she will remember forever. She may even grow up and build on her time with you and do something she would never have done if not for the time you two spent together.
Life is a series of experiences and choices and the camino gave me plenty of time to reflect on mine.

Ultriea

 

[Gretel Schuck]

When I walked my first Camino, I set out with a change of clothes, some rain gear, a jacket, and toiletries in my backpack. I had a cell phone, but no Euroean chip. Communication would be strictly WiFi. Like most, my emotions bounced back and forth from “how cool is is?” to “this is without question the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

But as each day passed I knew I had made the right decision. Going minimalist and carrying my own backpack was teaching me a valuable lesson. I was happy. In fact, very happy. Yet I had few material possessions around me. And being disconnected from the internet was such a blessing.

Sadly, returning to work caused many of those Camino lessons to fade. So I did two more Caminos as “booster shots.” But again the effects wore off as the dailey grind of life took its toll.

Now, as I approach retirement, I’m giving a lot of thought to what is next. Specifically, what can I do in retirement that will give me the same feeling of joy and happiness that I have found on the Camino.

Well, I just booked tickets to Zimbabwe where I am going to volunteer in an orphanage for three weeks to determine if that sort of thing is going to be my retirement. And I am convinced that I never would have taken the step of volunteering in a place without amenities normally associated with life here in the United States without my Camino experiences.

So my Camino through life starts a new three week path in June.

Very interestinng
I just finished Via Francigena in Dec. and am signing up to do volunteer work in Germany.
I have sold my house and am living I. A vey sweet little nucamp trailer.
Life is too short.
Gretel- Vermont USA

 

[Gretel Schuck]

Very interestinng
I just finished Via Francigena in Dec. and am signing up to do volunteer work in Germany.
I have sold my house and am living I. A vey sweet little nucamp trailer.
Life is too short.
Gretel- Vermont USA

Sb: “in a very sweet...”

 

[Marbe2]

Very interestinng
I just finished Via Francigena in Dec. and am signing up to do volunteer work in Germany.
I have sold my house and am living I. A vey sweet little nucamp trailer.
Life is too short.
Gretel- Vermont USA

Blessngs on your new volunteer service! When we first retired we spent two years volunteering in a poor area of Mexico! Unfortunately the area became so unstable and violent that we were afraid we might be kidnapped or caught in Crossfire. I still miss those children!