When 2.3 km really means +5 km day 5

Today was meant to be the shortest walk so far but for many it was the hardest physically. This was not helped by the misleading sign at the end of the hike which said 2.3 km to go when really it was 5 km. Leona, Liz and I have decided to give ourselves a treat tomorrow and send our bags on. We've also stocked up at the pharmacy (you've got to wonder when a town the size of la estella has 12 chemists... How much business the pilgrims are bringing in) so we are hoping for a better day tomorrow. Frankly today was purgatory until I got to the refugio and slept for an hour. Sleep is so healing.... Zzzz zzzz

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Puente de la reina - la estella

It's starting to get surreal: day 4

I thought we were leaving the madness behind when we left Pamplona- a city where they race bulls through the narrow cobbled streets for fun- but we are all starting to get a bit delirious with the heat, the task ahead, the pain. Today a girl who is having problems with her feet decided to strap sanitary towels to the soles of her new sandals because they were no less lacerating than the boots that she left behind in Pamplona. An Italian guy who began the pilgrimage earmarked as the group eye candy has, after injuring his knee on day one, destroyed his feet on day two and giving himself grade 1 sunburn (becausa heya I ama italiano I no needa di suncream!) is now walking round with a massive eye patch after scratching his eye with something during the night. It should be noted he also plans to do the whole pilgrimage in 20 days (it's a push at 32) to get back for a wedding... At this rate he'll be lucky if he's alive! Leona's feet are freaking me out now. She has no skin left on the ball of her left foot. I watch her thread an iodine soaked needle and and string through them and I feel light headed. My feet are starting to blister too but only slightly due to new shoes but my toes are singing with relief that they are no longer being sardined into the boots. If I had blisters like hers I'd be in a&e.
Tonight we met Michael, who did the whole camino last year and is doing it again this year with his father, George, of 70 odd. They are walking to raise money for prostrate cancer, which George survived. Michael lost 6 toenails last time he did it and he is happy if he only loses 4 this time. His argument is there is no celebration without sacrifice. I can't argue with him. On some level I feel 100 times more alive after a day of torturous walking.

Leona reckons we all have to have some kind of cross to bare. Pilgrim veterans say the first two weeks are physical torture and the second are emotional. Death or cake? Mmm I think I'll have death please!

We all have to have something driving us to keep going. I'm just not sure we know exactly what that is sometimes.

Today I did 25km in six hours including inclines and declines. A few of the competitive types in the group got a little irked that slow coach Tania got to the next stage before them. Tortoise and hare baby!
Whatever the speed or the cross we are carrying, one thing I would say is I feel protected... Blessed?? Like the big man upstairs is looking after us all. In my time of need someone is always their on the road...like today when I was thinking about eating the 'blueberries' that I found by the side of the sunflower fields. A Spanish couple arrived at the scene just in time to tell me they were potentially something a little more sinister. So the walking wounded brigade continue tomorrow, god willing to the next stage. I'm going to continue to chant and pray my way through the pain, heat and tiredness. It definitely worked for me this time.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Pamplona to puerta de la reina

Somos locos perdidos: day 3

Today was a day for getting lost. It happened an hour in at about 7 am. I was walking with Kati, a german girl and we missed a sign. It was a blessing in disguise because it meant we joined up with a bigger group and I got to meet Marianne and Jim a couple from the Rockies who were great company. It did mean we walked an extra half an hour and that means a lot in a 7hour walk. I noticed little of the camino today. I was busy talking, listening or focusing on getting to Pamplona so that I could dump my oppressive boots and buy trainers that would let my toes live. I've started to notice that most of the walkers are women. The men tend to be on bike or horse. The horse riders look like cowboys and sound like they smoke 80 marlboro reds a day. I've had two big realisations since I've been on the camino. 1) you are always alone and you are never alone. It is both simultaneously. I felt that right through to my bones. 2) whenever I do anything at someone else's pace; it doesn't work for me. I have to go at my pace; on the road and in life. Similarly listening to others advice when it conflicts with what I feel is fatal; the boots are a painful reminder of that.

Nearing Pamplona I got chatting to an Octogenarian local who decided to walk the last 30 minutes with me. He cried as we said good bye and asked me to pray for him. He's done the road many times himself and seemed to relish the excuse ti walk a part of it again. Unfortunately, when he ushered me across the Magdalena bridge he sent me in the wrong direction to the albergue Jesus y Maria and I wasted another 30 minutes finding it in the soaring heat of the city. When Leona came to find me I saw her blisters had grown to the size of a small country. They are actually shocking. When other pilgrims see them you see the colour drain from there faces. The refugio is great. It's amazing how grateful you become for the little things in life on this journey: somewhere to rest your head, the shade of a tree, a cool breeze, food, sleep and shelter. We bought Asics a size bigger than normal to accommodate our swollen feet and headed to a pinchos bar (Michelin starred and heaving with a ceiling of pata negra no less). This walk is making us both emotional. We ate, drank, cried and laughed in turns, hobbled back to the refugio and called it a day. The sound of people russling in there ruck sacks, whispering and climbing up ladders to the top bunk are becoming familiar now and strangely comforting and more and more things are becoming superfluous. Tomorrow we'll see how the feet are and decide from there.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Zubiri to Pamplona

Along came the blisters

It was a hard day today but I managed to keep to a good pace only a couple of hours behind Leona. In the morning the group i was in was jumped on by a group of young revellers who were still out partying as we set off. They were in good spirits and got us off to a good start. I spent the rest of the morning walking with a lovely couple john and teresa from Austria who retired last year and decided to take the opportunity to do the camino as soon as possible. I really admired that. John, was complaining about a stone in his shoe so when we stopped by a river he took his shoe off and produced a stone a size of a hazelnut. I was horrified and for ages he kept up the ruse until eventually he fessed up to the joke and produced the real offender: not much bigger than a grain of sand. By the end of today there was some serious blister action going on. Worst of all from Leona. The whole of the ball of both feet turned into giant blisters that popped on the way down. People are suffering but everyone is good humoured about there aches and pains and supportive of each other. A lovely south African woman, Liz produced some magic Chinese remedy to spray onto my bruised little toes in the hour of my need bless her. The day ended with another pilgrims dinner, this time including pimentones rellenas for me. This refugio is nowhere near as pristine as the last one and it's top bunk again tonight but I think I'll really sleep no matter how hard people snore.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Roncevalle to Zubiri

Baptism of fire day 1

Nervously leaving sant jean pied du port in darkness we stopped off at the church to say a little prayer, through the spanish gate and on upwards. After a euphoric 3 hour trek uphill with me feeling giddy with bliss we decided to continue from orrison to - 25 km in total mainly uphill with a steep decline to end. I can only really describe it like a baptism of fire for me. It was tough and I was slow but the scenery was breath-taking. We ascended through mists of confusion, over lush green mountain tops. We were followed by butterflies of transformation, passed dewy spiders' webs and descended through silent endless forest. Sometimes I talked to the animals and insects along the way, sometimes they answered me back like the horse that stood in my way and suggested an easier incline. I could almost feel my heart melting as i breathed in the nature all around me. And of course there were some wonderful people along the way. The French guy who runs a little tuck shop at the French / Spanish border in the middle of the pyrennes. 50 cents for a boiled egg (I swear that was the best egg of my life!) He lives in his tuck shop van for three months a year racking up a daily tally of pilgrim nationalities on the side of it (100 today alone). When I was all but spent on yet another sharp incline I found a biscuit wrapped in a see through bag and taped to a pilgrim post with a post it note saying love from Leona! Turns out it was from a Dutch couple that were walking up ahead and had got talking to Leona and left the biscuit for me. A biscuit has never made me cry before but that one did. I eventually reached roncevalles a few hours behind Leona. we went to the mass for the pilgrims with a blessing said in at least 9 languages. Had a pilgrims dinner and then hit the sack in the beautiful new and totally spotless refugios. Yes the snoring pilgrim reputation is true. This is one stamp in my pilgrims passport that was very well earned. here's hoping my very sad toes miraculously recover over night.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Sant Jean pies du port to roncevalles

Here we are

Today we arrived at St Jean pied de port via bus from biarritz (flying over the beautiful coast line it was tempting to stay) to Bayonne and then SNCF from Bayonne to SJPP. Stunning scenery from train window: lush green hills, azure skies and foamy rushing rivers. We managed to get spectacularly lost (my fault) on arrival (yes, i know, already) trying to find the pilgrims passport office and on finding it a lengthy conversation in 3 languages ensued. We've already met a bundle of pilgrims, men on bikes, women on foot, mainly Irish. Staying in the most gorgeous hotel of destiny; Itzalpea. Gold walls, oak beds lots of beautiful little touches. It will be a bit more simple from here on in. Had a generous pilgrims supper with the lovely Pat, Myra and Mary: super Irish ladies. This town has exceeded my expectations in it's gorgeousness. Its nice to be far away from the london rush hour, the baggage checks at Stansted airport, the yellow plastic fuselage of Ryan air planes. My soul has been thirsty for this for a long time. Looking forward to starting the road tomorrow.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:St Jean pied de port

Taking it slow...

Yesterday I walked from home, SE19 to Charring Cross. I did the 7.5miles in 2.5hours. Walking through London is a completely different experience to traveling through it on a bus/tube/train/motorbike/taxi. You get more of a sense of how its made up of a patchwork of vibrant and culturally diverse towns and communities. The energy, sounds, pace and smells change as you move from one street to the next.

There's something about walking that helps me work things out, or should I say 'walk things out'. I was talking about this with the lovely Antoinette and Robert this week. They've recently set up yoga sweet yoga at Harmony Harbour (where I'm currently teaching kundalini yoga) and its one of those precious corners of London where you can find a copy of Positive News. This quarter's issue contains an article by Adam Weymouth, a young man who walked through 12 countries, from the village of Whiteparish, near Salisbury, to Istanbul. That's 5000km and it took him 8 months. It makes the Camino seem like a shlep to the corner store for a pint of milk.

Adam refers to an idea from Rebecca Solnit's book, Wanderlust. Our minds work at 3 miles per hour - the speed we walk at - so our increasing obsession with speed is fracturing our minds and our connection to each other and the land. That rings true to me. Since reading In Praise of Slow by Carl Honore about 4 years ago I've struggled to justify the relentless pace of city life in the 21st century. It will be interesting to see what slowing down on the road does to my perspective.

While I welcome the chance to slow down and take stock I'm also daunted by the enormity of the pending journey. If I start to feel anxious I think about Adam Weymouth's 5000km hike, or Satish Kumar's 8000 mile peace walk and it gives me a sense of perspective. Or I think of the (much faster paced) marathon monks of Japan who cover 80km a day for 100 days. They hardly sleep, eat or stop to catch their breath and they do it all in agonizingly uncomfortable footwear.  How lucky I am to be able to take it slow, get some perspective and get back in touch with the land and the trees in the company of a good friend while wearing boots that were made for walking.