May 6, 2013

Today tested my will to do this.  I started the day really sick to my stomach.  I don't know if it's a stomach bug or nerves or something else.  Regardless, it was much more difficult than yesterday. More than twice the distance and a crazy climb over the top followed by a knee-jarring descent into Roncesvalles. But I made it. Along the way, so many lessons for which I am extremely grateful. I'm too tired to write them in any real order, so here are a few things that I experienced in snapshot form.

From the moment, I stepped out onto the path, it was a steady uphill climb.  It was painful.  My legs still hurt from yesterday, my lungs felt as if they'd never again fully receive oxygen.  As I stopped for what felt like the 1000th time, a thought came to my head, divinely inspired.  A message from above.  "Don't fight it, just feel it." I am supposed to feel this struggle.  If it weren't for the pain, I wouldn't feel the accomplishment as I pushed through it.

As I neared the top, I was still very sick to my stomach.  I was doing my best to keep it in, because I didn't want to lose the water I'd been drinking.  I came around a corner, to find myself face to face with a wild Spaninsh horse.  After my struggle a few years ago with my unexplainable fear of horses, I knew that it was another message.  Let go of the fear.  Everything would be fine. I sat down on a rock and spent some time with the herd that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.  It was magical.

When I finally reached the bottom of the hill after two excruciating and challenging days, I just wanted one more rest stop.  I meant to sit down on a flat rock sticking up out of the ground, but I missed. As I caught myself, my hand landed in a patch of stinging nettles. I had never heard of stinging nettles before, so I wasn't sure if I'd touched something poisonous. I immediately began to pour what little water I had left on my hand, praying it wouldn't begin to swell. Luckily, when I reached Roncesvalles, someone was able to tell me what had happened and to reassure me that the pain would subside in a day or two. I'm glad to say it only took a day, not two.  It was like the pain of 100 bee stings, in case you're wondering.

Finally, to end the day in the most unforgettable way possible, I went to retrieve my backpack which I had sent ahead by courier.  I looked through the pile.  It wasn't there.  Everything came down on me at once.  The fear, the illness, the exhaustion. I sat down in a chair in something of a catatonic state. That's when a woman I had met on the mountain, Nancy, noticed me sitting there,  she asked if I had found my backpack.  I told her no and began to sob uncontrollably.  She immediately took control of the situation, making phone calls and asking the questions that needed to be asked. Meanwhile one of her friends, Yasmin, bought me a glass of wine to calm me down.  In the end, it turned out, that I had been looking in the wrong place and that my backpack had been there all along. Once it was all solved, Nancy then carried my backpack to the albergue up the hill, checked me in, delivered my backpack to my bunk and returned with the details of where I would be sleeping.  It was an act of kindness that touched my very soul. I can't say enough how much it meant. But I can tell you where to find her if you ever decide that you want help beginning your Camino experience rather than struggling through it as I did.  She helps you with how to get to the start, what to buy, how to use your equipment, then walks with you for the most difficult leg from St. Jean to Pamplona. Her website is at Walk Your Way. Check it out! She's a class act!

Finally, after dinner we attended the Pilgrims' Mass. An incredible experience as the priests sang in Latin, their voices echoing throughout the medieval stone cathedral. Then they blessed us all, Catholic and non-Catholic alike. It really brought home the history of what I had undertaken.

Oh yeah. And remember when I told you all I was walking almost 500 miles, or 790 kilometers from St. Jean to Santiago? I lied. The 790 km mark doesn't start until I leave Roncesvalles. So add the distance from that "little" climb across the Pyrenees to my total as an extra bonus.