Hey Jack!
We are kindred souls. Thank you for helping me write a little about some of my recent experience on the
Camino Frances. You could not have given me a better writing prompt!
“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
Frank Herbert, Dune
On 10 Sept 2022 I walked up to this mojon just outside of Belorado, and it struck real fear in my heart! Real FEAR. I know. False Emotions Appearing Real. Blisters. Arthritis. Swollen ankle. We were not even yet on the Meseta and the physicality of my fully-completely-planned Camino was beating me down. The Way was playing with my mind junk as a cat plays with a mouse.
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I saw this mojon, stopped, and took this picture to remember my first encounter will real fear and doubt on the Camino. I am a 59-year-old male, with years of a sedentary lifestyle due to breaking my ankle, who had given up on camino-like adventures. I was carrying a 20-pound backpack, committed to making the journey all the way to Santiago de Compostela, on foot, never shipping my pack forward, never taking a taxi or bus. I came on this pilgrimage to walk it, to live it.
I came expecting to figure a few things out about myself and think about how I would live the rest of my life. If suffering was to be my lot, then suffering I was ready to endure. I came on this pilgrimage to have a transformational experience. I like to say, I made a "Pilgrim's Wager." I thought I had no illusions. I recognized that it would be hard at times. I've done many "hard" things in my life. Many scary things. Night diving. Sleeping alone overnight in bear country. The Air Force Survival School. And etc.,
I had read Shannon Wallis' wonderful book titled, “
WE The Change.” I highlighted the following passage where Shannon describes resting midway in a hotel and her husband visits her, pours her a bath, and listens to all her complaining about aches, pains, and the travails of the Camino. Here is what he said to her.
I come from a philosophical approach to life that says you can never over-prepare. I was a boy scout. What can I say? I've learned over the years that it is not so much about the preparation but rather how you deal with the setbacks. At some point it's, "Ready or not, here we go!" And there really is a cold place for timid souls...
But there I was, fearing. The blasted milestones or as they should be called, kilometer-stones are called mojones. The evil language lords gave multiple meanings to their Spanish words... Mojon always meant something very different to me, brings up images of large floaties in outhouses. Not in Spain. They love these signposts. They put stones on them like cairns. Most of the mojones in Castillo y Leon have the Castillo crossed out. The Camino is a living and breathing romp through history and culture.
I recognized in my fear that 554,6 Kilometers was not how far we had walked. None of these kilometer-stones tell you how much you have accomplished. They don't mark the distance traveled. They tell you how far you have left to go. So, I learned quickly to do a little mental math at each mojon. 800-554 = 246. Ok, super, Lance, now you need to celebrate what you've accomplished already, so far! Don't let yourself get caught up in the massive gap between where you are and where you're going. Easier said than done.
That sign in front of me outside of Belorado indicated we had walked more than twice as far as necessary to get from Sarria to Santiago.... which is all that is needed for the Compostela. This means, if we had started in Sarria we would have already walked there and back again. But, we were going from Saint Jean to Santiago. In reality, we were doing well. My fears were irrational, right? I'm sorry, but 554K is still a long way to go, and that day it really scared me!
What do you do? Take another step. Walk on. I continued my thought experiment... because, on the Camino, you have all the time you want for as much thought experimentation as you desire.
1. What's my worst-case scenario? I'll have to catch a couple of buses or taxis? It will take me longer? Maybe I'll have to jump forward to Sarria and give all of our aloted time to walk just the last 100K, maybe 5-10k per day? With all those fresh, clean partying pilgrims? Should I bike across the Meseta or skip it altogether, like many were already planning to do? Could I live with that? What was MY Camino supposed to be like? Blah! Mind junk!
2. What's THE most likely scenario? Couldn't I take better care of my blisters? How about using ice packs every night on my ankle? I know I'm not supposed to be taking ibuprofen, but what if popped a Spanish 400mg pill at breakfast and lunch? So what if it takes me an extra rest day or two to get to Santiago?
3. What's the best-case scenario? What do I need to do to make that happen? One step at a time, brother. One setback at a time. One workaround after another. Ok, where's my next cafe...and a tortilla so I can take that bloody, horse-pill-sized, ibuprofen.
A lot of people will say to not plan too much. I say plan all you want. Tell God your plans, I've heard others say that if you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans. Well, something like that. Do you think God likes it when we tease him?
I'll say this, no plan survives first contact with the Camino. So plan all you want. Plan as much as you need to, whatever it takes to get you to step across that threshold and go do it. Make a Pilgirm's Wager. Because in the end, you can't plan a Camino, you can only live a Camino. Viva!
Viva La Meseta! Viva getting that "Buen Camino," from the old man walking with his blind man's cane in the middle of the road, between Mansilla de las Mulas and Reliegos. Viva that old man walking in the wrong direction! Viva the hippy Albergue in Reliegos with the best homegrown tomatoes... ever. Viva Sor Theresa, in that little Ermita leaving Rabe de las Calzadas, who grabs your hands so hard that you can still feel her bony fingers as she will not let you go until she gives you her pilgrim's blessing. Viva! Viva the timing and location of these blessings. Maybe its what gets you to Santiago. Likely. Viva las 2nd breakfasts, and 3rd cafes-con-leches. Viva? Why? Because you can. Because you are alive. Viva your Camino amigos buying rounds of 1906s! Viva la lluvia, y navigando rivers of cow-mierda up and over O'Cebreiro and down through Samos. Viva how the only two days of rain on your whole darn Camino became the most peaceful, magical part of the journey. Viva placing your hands on the ancient fig trees, oaks, olive, pecan, and chestnuts that have witnessed thousands, if not millions of weary peregrinos making their way to the end of the world. Viva the one-person bar and Albergue operators. Viva the rude pilgrims who showed you how to give hospitality to receive hospitality. Viva, the hospitalero, who advises you to never forget to look back to where you've come from. Viva breathing in the most beautiful sunrises and then turning around and walking because you have 21k left to go that day. Viva the crunch, crunch, metronomic crunch of step after step on the rock path of the Meseta. Viva La Meseta! Viva the slow, agonizing descent for kilometers and kilometers into Molinaseca, needing to stop in Molinaseca, but not wanting to stop because you have a reservation in Ponferrada. Viva, writing in your journal that next time you will stay in Molinaseca. There will be a next time? Viva the candle-lit "menus del dia" and getting to dine with a couple of retired Spanish brothers living their dream of walking through Galicia together. Viva when one of the brothers exclaims, "Pero, que bajo de mierda en Galicia!" Viva the multiple times you will hug Camino friends again and again believing you'll never see them again. Viva the sound of bagpipes walking into the plaza. Viva still not knowing what you want to do with the rest of your life. But Viva, understanding, a little better, how you will live whatever it is.
Viva!
If fear is the mind-killer, let me suggest a little faith.
If it's any consolation, there are millions of us who have lived it.
Viva La Meseta!
Viva! Your Camino.
Viva.
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