El Camino de Santiago de Compostela: Day 5

Only 5 days on the Camino, but so much has happened already, it seems like an eternity!

The weather forecast is for 2 more days’ rain, hopefully with improvement following, so I decided to forego today’s 26km hike over the summit, the highest elevation in the entire Camino, and ride with the bag transport service rather than risk a serious injury. Word was that 2 elderly German ladies attempted too much each day, ended up in hospital and had to return home. I didn’t want that to happen.

So Michael started walking this morning on his own. But I was sure he’d find company along the way: more peregrinos are showing up as we get closer to our Santiago destination.

I spent the time waiting for my ride taking pictures around this town; everything’s made of stone: houses, churches, roads, walls! I also bought a walking stick with a carved shell + cross in its handle, believing I would again be walking tomorrow. And I bundled up in front of the fireplace to read: my Verse for the Day: Ps 84:6-7 continuing from Day 1’s:

 “As they pass through the Valley of Baca (Weeping), They make it a spring; The rain also covers it with pools.

  They go from strength to strength; Each one appears before God in Zion.’

Seemed appropriate! And did it ever rain: even sleet and snow! The 26 kms only took 40 minutes to drive through Asebo, Riego de Ambros, and other ancient stone grey villages. After we crossed the summit, the road wound down narrow mountain switchbacks, suddenly the valley opened wide before us and in a short time the driver dropped me with the bags in Molinaseca at… you guessed it: ‘The Way’ Hostal! It seemed a bit expensive, but the receptionist and an older man with a cane quite similar to the one I’d just bought, offered a good deal for a room all to ourselves, so I took it. That older man, Matthias, turned out to be the owner, had walked the Camino 15 times and insisted very emphatically, “You not walk more than 15 km/day. You do more you get hurt and then you no good to nobody!”

I didn’t argue with him.

I settled in our room, looked around town (didn’t take too long!) and decided to walk back uphill and meet Michael on his way downhill. I took my time for this more of a leisurely stroll. The rain stopped, the sun even came out and the mountain scenery was wonderful!

Soon I started to meet peregrinos coming down the mountain.

The crazy Italians ran by me in their flip-flops.

‘S from Seattle’ had pressed on ahead of everyone again, and I got to confront his cynicism in a very practical way. In his haste that morning, he’d forgotten his fancy wristwatch at the albergue, but the cleaning lady had found it and seeing I was going on ahead, gave it to me to in turn give to him if I should ever see him.

“See,’ I told him as I handed him his watch, ‘there is a Redeemer!’

Also met a couple South Africans. I asked if they’d seen Michael and described him.

‘Oh, you’re the dad in this Canadian father-son team! We heard about you, you’re the guy with the giant blister! He’s just a short ways behind.’

Seems news travels fast and we’re already known on the Camino!

So I kept going, taking more pictures. This side of the summit was much warmer; spring was already here: flowers blooming, trees turning greener; I continued to soak it in.

Finally I spotted Michael’s yellow pack cover coming down the mountain and soon he came around the corner with… our Irish friends again! Turned out they had pre-booked the same Way Hostal as I’d found, so after a rest,

we spent the evening together - even had supper.

Michael + I studied the next stages of our Camino and agreed that with just over a week left, it would be best to spend some time actually seeing the towns and sites rather than just pressing straight through.

So our strategy has changed: we’ll take a couple buses over the steepest sections during the next few days and then walk the last 120 kms into Santiago. Surely I should be able to do that?! 

El Camino de Santiago de Compostelo Day 4:

Dawn seemed to arrive earlier today - guess I was tired? A glorious sunrise, and we were up, packed and out the door by 8. Beautiful monastic music plus my verse for today renewed my spirit and, I hoped, my body too.

Isaiah 40:31 ‘Those who wait = serve patiently, walk together with, upon the Lord shall renew their strength;

they will mount up = not fall, but rise up above every obstacle and triumph through every test; with eagle’s wings = Word + Spirit, faith + grace, truth + love; They shall walk + not be weary.’ I especially claimed this last part!

So we walked through Astorga: its plazas, past the catedral, even a Gaudi landmark – his fantasies always stand out!

And just at the city edge, we found a café con leche abierto = coffee shop open, before heading out into the country.

Then the Irish couple we’d met on the train appeared and walked with us for the next 10 kms. We even took a slight detour to a unique Maragoto = a distinct ethnic group, village. Everything was built of stone: houses, walls, roofs, roads. Made to last!

But I noticed I was starting to lag behind again and when we stopped for breakfast, I wasn’t too steady on my feet. Michael noted that we’d taken 4 hours for only 11 kms:  only half way for the day. Perhaps I should try to get a bus?

I didn’t want to give up, but it started to rain, the rest of the way was uphill and now it was cold and wet and I really wasn’t feeling well, so… I phoned for a taxi.

Michael continued walking and as I drove by him a little later; the rain poured down and cars coming from the uphill direction even had snow covering them! My ride covered in 20 minutes what would have taken me 4 hours walking. I thought, ‘This isn’t much fun right now; and if I’m feeling like this on only my 3^rd day on the Camino, how can I finish the remaining 280 kms?

My taxi dropped me off in Rabanal del Camino right at Pilar Albergue, a rough and rustic stone wood hostel. Isabella, the hostess, greeted me warmly and led me into an even warmer room with a fireplace burning, but I was shivering, so I right away climbed into my bunk and slept for the next 3 hours! I guess I was tired!

When I awoke, Michael had arrived soaked but happy to find a warm place to dry himself and his wet clothes.

Nothing like a fire to draw peregrinos together on a cold, wet day and as each arrived, we got to meet them and get to know their motives for walking.

Most were young and adventurous.

‘S from Seattle’ had already walked for 3 weeks; his 1^st day in the Pyrenees he’d battled 3ft of snow! He wanted to prove he could break through personal limits: the Camino became his endurance test and he’d walked 50 km/day despite tendonitis and a couple toenails falling off. A cynic, he looked at my blister and warned, ‘Doesn’t look good; if that gets infected, you’re done for!’ Not very encouraging, I thought.

Some were trying to escape: walking away from issues back home, circumstances, conflicting relationships?

One was hoping to lose weight, another to overcome addictions.

2 Italians were running over 50km/day in flip-flops!... Why!?

Francesco, another Italian, was biking the whole route.

‘Ohio’ + her mom thought they should ‘just do it.’

Germans comprised the majority; wanderlust I guess?

 ‘B’, a young Polish computer games engineer, was taking his time, writing his thesis: Many who have affected Western society’s moral basis (eg Freud, Marx, Margaret Mead, Keynes, Wilhelm Reich) in the last century were themselves psychologically deranged, actually seeking to undermine family values + gender identity which liberals have tolerated and permitted to the extent they’ve become, as he described it, an oxymoron = oppressive tolerance!.

‘D from Toronto’ wanted to walk all day and party all night, but was really looking for healing in her identity.

Not many peregrinos admitted their motives were ‘spiritual’; most seemed to treat it as being out for a long walk, but few seemed to be here to walk with God?

I remarked how our modern values or lack of them were reflected by the Way, originally a very Roman Catholic route of penance and forgiveness, but now very secularized.

And it made me face my real motive for walking the Camino? especially now it seemed a real possibility I would not be able to continue all the way to Santiago.

When you come face-to-face with losing something, its true value becomes all the more precious and vital.

Later that evening we attended a Benedictine service in what was one of the oldest restored chapels on the Camino.  2 German monks prayed in Latin, Spanish and heavily accented English and I understood very little. I asked the Lord to make a Way where there didn’t seem to be one…. and it didn’t take long!

A group of us went for supper afterwards. Over a welcome bowl of hot soup, ‘K the German lady’ told us how she had her packsack shipped ahead daily to her next stop and asked, ‘Why don’t you do that also?

I remembered the Victoria father and daughter we’d met in the Madrid airport who’d said they were doing this right and now it seemed like a wonderful idea!

Back at the hostel, Isabella kindly phoned the Camino Service and arranged for them to not only drive my pack,

but me too, over the summit the next day.

I went to bed thinking, ‘Maybe it’s not such a bad idea for me to do this for the next couple of days?

After all, this Camino is not my endurance test. I have nothing to prove. Nor am I here to party.

I’m here to walk with my son.  Our family has been through much in these last 3 years and I want to make the most of this to continue walking through, through life, through whatever trial it takes, together, in the faith, hope and love that will open doors for my children, grandchildren and great-children, the next generations who will follow, walk, and fulfill their call.

I’m not here so much for my sake, but for Christ’s sake and them. So I prayed, ‘Let your Way be known, Lord.’

And it was!

El Camino de Santiago de Compostela: Day 3:

Up, packed and walking by 8 again, but rather than bright sunshine, this morning fog enveloped our Camino. Its fields were grey; stalks of unharvested corn stood like shadowed shrouds in the mist. But we both agreed: cool is better than hot when walking. And we were thankful we weren’t here during summer’s heat or crowds of 1000s. In fact, today the Way was quite empty. English Ben (only first names on the Camino), his 2 Koreans + a young Spanish student were our only fellow peregrinos for most of the day.

Gradually the mists gave way to sunshine and we looked for a mid-morning coffee break. Villavante wasn’t awake yet when we entered town. The sign on the restaurant door said abierto = open but when we knocked and even rattled the restaurant door, it was definitely cerrado = closed. No life anywhere, like a spaghetti Western when gunfighters take over and all the timid townsfolk flee behind drawn curtains. So we moved on, only to hear a voice and see a guy out in the street waving us to come back. So we did and found out that’s the Way to get an early café con leche on the Camino. 

We passed water towers with storks, church steeples with more storks (they seem to favour churches?)  and then a long distance  just walking through fields and pine forests. And we got to talk together: my son + I + other fellow peregrinos. Our discussions ran the full gamut of topics: experiences, ideas, culture, politics, faith, challenges, victories, even apparent defeats. Even if they can’t admit it, ever peregrino has a story, indeed is a story.

Pilgrimage is especially about life-story-telling, letting the miles unfold your story. Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, the 1^st book in recognizable English, is all about pilgrims passing their time telling stories as they walked.

Talking is good, but talking + walking is better.

That’s how Jesus taught His 12 disciples: He didn’t just sit them down in a classroom, but they walked through 3 ½ years of life together and He used their encountered as revelatory object lessons: the sower + his seed, the young ruler and his riches, the woman taken in adultery.

There is such an abundance of story in creation and redemption: our story and His-story.

And that’s when we happened on one of the great stories of the Camino: Don Suera de Quinones and the Puente = Bridge de Orbigo. Our guide book related how this noble 15^th  Century knight from Leon, spurned by his true love but, in proper romantic chivalry sought to recapture his honour by ‘defending’ this bridge. He challenged all who would cross it and knights from all over Europe responded. He broke 300 of their lances in jousting matches until he felt his honour restored sufficient to resume his pilgrimage. Annual tournaments continue to celebrate his romantic idealism here to this day!

Talking while walking also makes the time pass faster. As you focus on the story, you’re no longer so aware of how high the hills or how long the way are; time simply passes with the scenery. And that happened for us! We walked and talked and didn’t realize we’d gone over 20km and… then I was suddenly tired!

So how opportune that in the middle of nowhere a literal ‘Oasis’ appeared! That’s what a group of ‘hippies’ called this haven of refreshing they set up in one of the Camino’s most isolated parts and served drinks: cold + hot, snacks, fruit, even a couch to rest on – all for free! I dropped my pack, collapsed on the couch and ate strawberries!

God bless such kind and generous souls who refresh others at their point of exhaustion.

And the yellow arrow marked only 8kms = 5 miles to Astorga: our day’s destination … still a ways to go!

It took a lot of effort to get me going again, but I did. I was becoming more aware that I no longer had that 24-year old body that hitched across North Africa and the Sinai in what now seemed aeons ago!

‘Just another 8kms, Henry; another ¼ of the distance you’ve already covered today! You can do it!’

We stopped at the Cruce = Cross and Astorga spread out before us in the distance. It looked deceptively close.

But actually getting there took longer than ever; I think it’s the longest 5 miles I’ve ever walked… over 2 hours! And just when I thought I could see the finish I saw It: the Green Monster!  looming over the railways tracks, separating  us from the city,  its height intimidating,  both its tails switchbacking back and forth on either side.

Some mad architect’s scheme to totally dishearten exhausted pilgrims at the end of their long day’s trek: it was

a bridge crossing the tracks with 100-metre long ramps that wound back and forth 3 or 4 or 7 times on either side.

It was the talk of our albergue that evening: that torture-ramp designed to drain the last ounce of our stamina!

I looked at it + felt exactly that: drained!

And that’s when Sir Michael, like the brave knight, stepped up and took my packsack together with his and conquered the bridge for his dad! I first resisted his offer, but as my feet barely moved under my burden and the monster raised his head higher, I yielded. We walked the last 2 kms uphill into the city and stopped to overnight at the nearest albergue.

Fortunately, we got a room all to ourselves again. I took off my ‘Lamborghini’ hiking boots and no-sweat merino socks and let my tired feet breathe: incomparable relief, but also the biggest blister I’ve ever seen on my foot!

God-cidently, a nurse helping people with blisters, just outside our albergue, lanced and drained it, and after a shower and supper, I actually felt human again!

Our distance walked: 31.2 km and my verse for the day: Heb10:36 ‘you have need of endurance’.

As during the 88 Days Erica was missing, ‘endurance’ once again became my theme: 1day more than I thought I could yesterday! Our family story since she went missing has been a lot like this day’s walk.

Through the fog, a mystery that needed the sun to break through, dispel the unknowns and bring shadows to light. Doors seemingly closed, but suddenly open.

Bridges blocked, but then opening the way.

It had been good to talk and walk through these today together.

But now my feet ached and I was tired … and all I wanted was a good sleep!

El Camino de Santiago de Compostela: Day 2

Sunlight filled our medieval hotel room early so we got up, packed up our stuff and joined up with the  yellow arrows and seashells that marked the Camino’s route back at Cathedral square. An overnight frost quickly yielded to the sun’s warmth as we began our 1^st day walking: along the city streets, past a stork high in its nest atop a centuries-old Roman pillar, over our first medieval bridge. We turned a corner and entered another square with a cross and statue of one very tired-looking peregrino = pilgrim resting at its foot, outside what used to be a monastery, but is now a luxury hotel. At $200/night, no wonder he was resting outside!

We continued through a rather uninteresting industrial section of town and past a very modern-day church with bronze statues of what almost appeared to be more like the 12 Psychotics rather than 12 Apostles? As we left Leon, it was warm enough to start removing layers: my hoodie and vest came off and I was soon down to shirtsleeves. Even put on a hat and sunscreen: the weather was idea for walking!

Following the yellow arrows marking the Camino became a way of life over the next 2 weeks and made it quite easy to follow: a bit like Oz’s ‘Follow the Yellow Brick Road’: every 100 metres or so they appeared to point up to Santiago, on sidewalks, walls, poles, everywhere. You’d think it would be very hard to lose our way… but we did.  Our map warned of a difficult transition point, but after a half hour of walking past abandoned ‘hobbit-houses’ with no yellow arrows, we followed a farmer’s directions and found our way back onto the Camino path.

My verse for that day then became real: John 14:6. ‘I am the Way…’  The Way = The Camino is not merely a geographical route found on a map, nor a formula or series of signs you memorize to reach your destination. Rather, The Way is a Person, Jesus, and you learn to follow Him out of relationship because He’s the One who has called you. And that call does not grow weaker in time, but ever stronger as you learn to hear His voice, even in spite of your circumstances. There’s not just a right Way + a wrong Way: there is His Way and when He says, ‘Follow Me,’ He is well able to reveal His Way, open it up before us and equip us with what we need to follow in it. The end does not justify the means. In Christ, His end and our means come together. What we do plus the way we do it ultimately produce the end result. Even more, who we are  is of more intrinsic value than what we do. We find our Identity in Jesus the Way and perhaps we need to get lost to our everyday world once in a while to find out who we indeed are and what is His direction and destination in our life. Jesus did say, ‘he who loses his life (for my sake) will find it.’

We walked that day for 8 hours; of course we took breaks for café con leche, but couldn’t find any ice cream!

In fact, we couldn’t find many people! The villages were empty and I even punned in my dismal Spanish that one village name: Chozas de Abajo really meant Chosen but Abandoned!

No great mountains to climb, rivers to ford, or whethers to weather on this day. Our 1^st day proved wonderful on all counts! Sure, I was tired after 22.2 kms ; but our bunks felt good (even though many dorms’ beds were too short for Michael!) and the hot soup + tea warmed us up when the sun went down and the wind came up.

After all, the albergue we arrived at for our first night was appropriately named: Casa de Jesus = Jesus House! 

El Camino de Santiago de Compostela Day 1

Ps 84:5-7 ‘Blessed is the man whose strength is in You, Whose heart is set on pilgrimage’

I’d asked God for a verse from His Word for each day we walked the Camino and He gave me this for a starter.

Too often people are too busy to attend to God refining and retuning their lives; we are too set on our own agendas. Like Martha, we become distracted with too many things/stuff/baggage and lose sight of God as our central Focus to walk us through each day’s demands of multi-tasking complexities. We lose the Big Picture and get lost in the details: where and how we fit.

I was fit … between 2 stocky guys on an early morning flight to Dallas then connecting to Spain.

The one, quite a well-to-do Surrey businessman, had woken up that morning to discover that the suitcase of stuff he’d packed and locked in his car the night before had been stolen! The other, a young guy with a big smile, told me how he’d emigrated from Venezuela where President Chavez had destroyed ‘paradise’; but his loss of  stuff once dear had led him and many other young Venezuelans to begin following Jesus and His Way!

Pilgrimage has a way of clarifying life’s true priorities!

You soon discover you cannot walk in your own strength and carry all the baggage you once presumed necessary.

On arriving in Madrid, we met an elderly father + daughter from Victoria also starting out on the Camino. They’d planned to walk a shorter distance and arranged to have their packs transported daily so they wouldn’t have to carry their ‘stuff’. I thought to myself, ‘That’s great for them, but I’m not so old that I can’t carry my 20lb pack.

And relying on others to transport your bag was kind of like cheating, right?

Not the true spirit of a pilgrim, eh?’

I later found that such self-righteous opinions would be some of my first ‘excess baggage’ items I needed to jettison.

Baggage also figured in other ways in this 1^st stage of my journey. YVR Security had already lightened my load somewhat when they relieved me of my shampoo + a cherished Swiss army knife at the last minute by only allowing me 1 checked bag rather than the originally allotted 2 bags on an international flight. ‘But,’ they added, ‘you’re flying through the US!’ and that alone was supposed to explain the sudden changes?

Also, after our Camino, Michael was returning home to Canada, but I was traveling further to the UK and had to store a 2^nd suitcase for this 2^nd leg of my journey.  I knew I definitely couldn’t carry that on my back for 2 weeks! Fortunately, the hotel where we’d arranged to stay on our return to Madrid 2 weeks later had kindly offered to store this 2^nd bag for me, so after dropping  it off, we headed for the train station. We didn’t have time to walk the entire 800km Camino from its start in the Pyrenees Mountains, so we planned to start from Leon, a city about 340 kms from Santiago. We calculated that we had enough time to make that distance.

Our train literally flew across the Spanish countryside, attaining 300 km/h at peak speed, covering in just over 1 hour virtually that same distance we would cover on foot in 2½ weeks! Quite the difference!

Signs of spring green life were poking through the landscape as it shed its winter grey; lots of tunnels also poked their way through snow-covered mountain ranges. I had no idea there were so many mountains in this part of Spain, still covered in snow! I wondered: had I packed enough warm clothes for these unforeseen weather changes?

Perhaps there was more I didn’t know about this hike… adventure… this pilgrimage!

We arrived in Leon early. We’d met an Irish couple on the train who were tackling the Camino in annual sections and now completing their 4^th and final leg. They’d recommended a good pousada = B+B and, too tired to look any further, we settled in for a good rest so we could start our real journey refreshed the next morning.

We picked up our ‘credenciales’ = Camino ‘passports’ with spaces for stamps from albergues = cheap hostels, churches and stops we would encounter along the way. And we got lost in a maze of twisted, narrow streets, but found the city’s cathedral: a 13th Century Gothic-style edifice built in only 50 years by a mere 5000 people!

Its stained glass windows seemed like light hung from heaven, penetrating and warming an otherwise cold interior. Against much opposition, this community’s dreams ultimately found reality in a house of worship.

But, as our guide related, their stone roof ‘stuff’ proved too weighty and caved in upon its worshipers a few times through the next centuries!

I fell asleep, thankful to have safely arrived at our starting point, but also wondering how much of my plans were similarly of faith or excess stuff/baggage/stones that would weigh down my ‘pilgrim’s progress?

                                      

El Camino 2016 - Pilgrimage

We are all pilgrims: temporary resident aliens passing through this world; exiles on a homeward journey to the Father, hungry and thirsty for personal discovery, questing for eternal meaning and truth.  It’s life-long, sometimes it feels like merely aimless wandering, while at other times we tap into an evidently greater call and purpose beyond ourselves.

We’re all on this journey. Some just never realize it, but spend their lives trapped seeking personal gratification, fearful or just unmotivated to venture beyond their comfortable horizon and break through mystery into revelation. 

The answer lies somewhere out there … beyond… within.

I’ve journeyed to Jerusalem, Rome, and Auschwitz and other pilgrim destinations, even searched out family roots in Poland and Russia, but a couple years ago I saw The Way, a movie by Martin Sheen + his son Emilio Estevez, about The Way of St. James, a Medieval pilgrim route from various parts of Europe culminating in northern Spain:

El Camino de Santiago de Compostela. Its simplicity caught my attention; last year my son, Michael watched it also and this year we walked part of its 800 kilometers together over 14 days.

‘Change’ has been a constant for our family since Erica’s death almost 3 years ago, and The Way helped bring healing as we walked that same route where little has changed over the last 1200 years and countless others have found solace along its timeless paths.

So I invite you to join me on pilgrimage over the next 2 weeks: different places, people and events; pictures, stories and insights along the way. You can take a FB shortcut here or just click on my blog: henryschmidt.blogspot.com  for a more in-depth journey. And as peregrinos = pilgrims encourage each other along their way: ‘Buen Camino!’ 

In Burmington Church

I went looking for you dear,

On this your birthday…

Today.

I stepped outside this sheltered life

And the rain fell like tears,

Drenching both me and the countryside,

Driving me to that same chapel

Where only a few years past

I’d fled to find peace

And hear His voice

Amid the chatter.

Yet as I sat there

In His Presence

I’d realized I was Incomplete

Without you.

Then I heard footsteps approach…

Their sound ascended the stony path.

Their hand wrestled with the heavy door…

And in my heart I knew

It was you.  

Unknown to either of us,

We’d been led both

To that same refuge

In that same storm.

You found me

And I was no longer lost.

I’ve gone looking for you every day

Since that morning you went missing

In your pain.

Today again I waited there…

Listened for your footsteps,

Felt your hand once more

Touch and turn the latch

Upon my heart.

It opened

And I found you

Through His healing…

Complete.

And now you are no longer lost.