Camino del Norte

While taking pause from the endless hiking trails of the Camino del Norte, I sat on a rock, feet burning, frustration mounting, impatience and 60 pounds of backpacked stuff digging into spine, and this is what came to mind:

What am I doing this for, if I’m just rushing it?

What clean underwear?

What dry clothes?

What almond milk?

What NYC?

Just trapped in between these mountains

Up

Down

Up down 

Worse than an Episcopal church service 

It wasn’t admiration nor awe, it was sarcasm and sassy annoyance. Like many things, I fall somewhere in between pagan child gathering raspberries in the yard or seaglass from the beach or ritualizing in the woods - to a wanna-be stylish city girl that writes about relationship and magically affords rent on Perry St like Carrie Bradshaw with the patience equivalent to a NYC subway during rush hour.  Stand clear of the closing doors. 

In what appeared to be a never ending trail of brown wrapping its way around billowing peaks of green, my purple and turquoise shoes plopped hopelessly in the middle, I lifted my head and saw the only other human approaching with a walking stick.

His name was Kerry.

A 73 year old FTC (that’s “Full time Christian folks” and that’s how he introduced himself) from Texas.  On day 3 of the Camino, we were the last ones of the group left, our conversation went something like this.  

A: Kerry, everything hurts, tell me I’m not the only one?

Kerry: Phewwww weeee, no you're not. Who knew this trail would be such an ass whoopin? No one told us. I did the Santiago 2x and that is a walk in the park compared to this. I don’t even have time or energy to pray and say my Hail Marys. This is bullshit.

A: (laughing out loud) Tell me about it Kerry, I mean great view and all but who can enjoy it when they can’t feel anything but pain. I mean I’m not giving gratitude nor nothing I’m just cursing every step of the way. I wasn’t prepared for this. I think I gotta get off it. Take a bus to Bilbao.

Kerry: Good for you, go for it gal. You ain’t got nothing to prove. See I told everyone back home I was gonna do this thing for over a year. But I’m an old man with pride.

A: Yeah as a woman I threw that out long ago and now I just need to write this thing you know?

Kerry: Yup, and with that heavy backpack, you can’t keep doing this. And if anyone asks if you ever did the Camino del Norte you say, ‘Damn Right I did. 2019.’

A: Damn right I did.  Now send me some prayers to write what I need to write and get it out.

Kerry: I’m adding you to my prayer book that I lay my hand on every night and rehearse 10 prayers.  Ima give you my address and you send me a copy of your book when it’s done ok?”

A: Absolutely Kerry. You’ll be one of the first one, and hopefully not the only one.

Kerry: Alright we can do this, we’re almost there Ali. Just 3 more clicks.

The shared humor lightened the load some 45 pounds. Blistered feet still stand.  When Kerry and I walked into Markina, another trail mate, Marcos, came into the center square, and opened his arms wide with a smiling hug. The embrace was better than hot chocolate on a cold day, better than water on a hot one. A kind of satisfaction you only get after working really hard.  Karin and other familiar faces from the trail clapped for us as we entered the restaurant.  Floating, I was lifted to the peaks of the mountains with their warmth and welcome. 

It wasn’t about who finished first. It was that we all did this really hard thing with different paces, carrying different loads and ending up at the same place, eating the same not so great food sharing our unique experiences. We all congratulated each other. My trail wasn’t worse or harder than your trail. 

The Camino is really just a metaphor for life. This complex journey we get to travel on along side each other.  Sometimes the view is stunning. Sometimes you wanna lay down and watch Sex and the City. Either day, imagine what it would be like if you came home and someone said, wow you made it, that’s incredible.  Hear let me take your backpack, take a seat, let me get you some food. Tell me about your experience and I’ll tell you about mine. And if you wanna just sit in silence that’s cool too. I’m here and I’m so glad we made it.

 Be it big mountains or big cities, the infrastructure doesn’t care that my back hurts, but intimate connection is an opiate that alleviates pain.  To me, the magic is not an assumed pure condition of the Natural world and us as tourist hikers, it’s that people plus place exist in an inextricable equation adding to the ingredients of who I am.

Photo: Kerry and I approaching the end of that day’s trail and beginning of town, Camino del Norte, Spain, 2019