Lessons from the Camino

(An abriged version of the story was originally published in October edition of The Valley Catholic newspaper.)

By Brenda Nettles Riojas

The Valley Catholic

SANTIAGO DE COMPOSTELA, Spain – Nearly in tears I finished my first 14.5 miles on the Camino de Santiago from Sarria to Portomarin. We had five more days ahead of us, 55.5 miles more and who knows how many more uphill climbs, downhill stone tracks and steep descents.

Sarria in Galicia is the traditional start location, the 112-110 kilometer marker, for pilgrims who want to walk at least the last 100 kilometers of the Camino de Santiago and earn the Compostela.

My husband and I hope to walk the full Camino someday, the Way of St. James, which is one of the three most ancient pilgrimages. Each year thousands walk toward Santiago de Compostela, where the apostle St. James is believed to be buried. There are different starting points; the most ancient begins in France.

Air miles and some vacation days facilitated a shorter walk of six days on the Camino in late August. However, I soon discovered I had not factored in the training required for this particular pilgrimage and that I carried more than I needed.

Even before we arrived in Sarria I realized as we maneuvered through airports and train stations my backpack would be a challenge on the Camino.

With our pilgrim's passport ready to be stamped along the way, we started before sunrise and walked for nearly nine hours the first day. Yellow arrows and scallop shells along the path pointed the direction. I carried my backpack, which weighed at least 35 pounds, the entire day. An advocate for packing light, I had not followed my own advice. As the day progressed, my chivalrous husband lightened my pack slightly by adding a few of my items to his.

The weight of the backpack slowed my pace, and my hips, shoulders and back paid the price. I ended the day, not only with a bruised ego, but with my first ever foot blister from a hike, a sprained ankle and an Achilles tendon, not to mention the sore arms and calf muscles. I don’t remember Martin Sheen’s character in the movie the “The Way” complaining about his legs or the weight of his pack.

I lost count of how many people passed me on the trail. As someone who takes pride in staying fit and undertakes physical challenges such as hiking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu and climbing Mount Sinai in the dark or cycling 100-plus miles in one day from Brownsville to Roma, I felt added pain when a group of four grandmothers left me and my bruised ego behind on the trail. One woman I met from Dublin, Ireland is 72. Monica Gaynor started the Camino five years ago in France. She returns each year to do a section. This was her last 100 kilometers.

What was I thinking? Lack of exercise and the resulting extra pounds are not elements conducive to becoming what my husband calls “battle-ready.” The first day of the hike confirmed that I was in the worst shape of my life.

I was humbled, however, by the generous and caring spirit of the pilgrims, strangers on the Camino, who slowed their own pace out of concern to ask if I needed help.

I felt spiritually prepared for a pilgrimage having just completed St. Louis de Montfort’s 33-day Consecration to Jesus through Mary devotion, but I had neglected the physical aspect. Kilometer after kilometer I became painfully aware of the need to be a good steward of our health and body.

I found consolation from my aches and pains in the countryside, the hamlets and streams we passed where black berries grow wild along the trail lined at times by apple trees, pear trees and fig trees. The Camino offered a welcome peace and quiet. The weather in Galicia, averaging 70 degrees, added a welcome change from the South Texas temperatures we left back home peaking above 100.

Instead of dwelling on my weaknesses and feeling sorry for myself, I drew inspiration from the different people we met along the way, peregrinos from different countries, backgrounds, ages and faiths, each with their own reason for walking the Camino.

Catherine Masson, a woman from Paris, walked with me for six kilometers. Despite the pain in her own feet, not once did she consider ending her walk. Her friend walked ahead to reserve beds for them at the albergue and Catherine maintained her own pace. In no hurry to arrive, she continued forward certain of her goal and the destination.

She said each year she packs less and less. She started on the Camino seven years ago in La Puy, France, and each year she walks for two weeks. “You learn on the Camino how little you need," she said.

The long walk, highlighted by small villages along the route, provided me time to reflect about the weight I carried. Lesson learned: Pack light. Trust that God will provide. Keep in mind, the heavier our packs, the more difficult the trail – both literally and metaphorically. I obviously still held on to material offerings of the world and find it challenging to lighten my pack. We even packed a tent and camping stools, just in case all the beds were full at the albergues.

After the first grueling day, we found room at an emergency albergue in Portomarin, which opened after all the other albergues had filled with pilgrims. We paid 5 Euros each for a bed in a room with 24 bunk beds and community showers available.

In Portomarin we discovered I was not the only one who wanted to ditch a heavy backpack. Several signs pointed us to transport services. I did not waste a minute in arranging Mochilas David to transport our backpacks at 3 Euros a pack to the next stopping point on the route.

That night I did not know if I would be able to walk the next day. I did not maintain any illusions of rescuing my pride on this journey, but at the same time I didn’t want to give up the walk. It was too early to face defeat. I resolved to put my walk in God’s hands and walk as much as possible given my sprained ankle.

I did walk on day two. I managed 7 kilometers (4.3 miles) before asking a waiter in Gonzar to call a cab. Catherine, one of the pilgrims I walked with part of the Camino encouraged me to continue. She assured me it would be easier today without the heavy pack. But my ankles and heels forced me to acknowledge my limitations and insisted on a break.

I opted to sit day three out and rest my ankle. While my husband, who hardly complained, took to the road, I took a bus and caught up with him in the next town, Melide. By the end of our pilgrimage I managed to hike five of the six days, 86 km (53.4 miles). It was refreshing to be on the Camino and focus on the path in front of me, leave work, deadlines and bills behind in Texas. While I kept a slower pace, too slow by my husband’s standards, I relished the views.

At each town that served as our base for the night, the meals were especially memorable. Not only did each dish nourish us, the flavors served as a reward after a long walk. We savored the pulpo de Galicia (Octpus) drizzled with olive oil, sea salt and spicy paprika, the homemade churros dipped in a thick hot chocolate, and the Spanish empanadas stuffed with a tomato and tuna mixture, and of course the wine.

The last day we walked six hours in a constant drizzle and light rain. We arrived ten minutes late for the pilgrim’s Mass at St. James Cathedral.

Someday, should God will it, I hope to join the thousands who have walked the entire Camino.

I return from my pilgrimage humbled and with lessons learned. I was reminded on the Camino that the journey won’t always be easy; we will face challenges along the way, and sometimes we need to slow our pace. Without sacrifice the arrival may not hold as much meaning.

The Camino enlightened me on the need let go and not carry so much on the journey. It also reminded me that we need to maintain balance in our lives, both spiritually and physically.

At the pilgrims' Mass at St. James Cathedral, the priest reminded us that the pilgrimage continues.

We each walk at a different pace on the journey. We don’t always walk side by side, but we are there to offer each other help along the way and wish each other a “Buen Camino.”