Despite my lack of physical preparation for the Camino this time around, I still spent a good deal of time snooping around various social media sites and forums dedicated to the Camino.
One thing that came up repeatedly was the great amount of walkers beginning their Camino in Sarria . I had seen a number of photos of walkers moving along the path almost shoulder to shoulder, with little or no room to manouvre or find space to walk, never mind the opportunity to reflect.
This was my main fear as we settled into our basic yet comfortable appartment in Sarria the night before commencing. Not only was I missing out on the longer type of Camino I had been used to up until this point, but this over-crowded “rat run” into Santiago from Sarria would frustrate and “Madden” me even more. Hence the title of this post “Far from The Maddening Crowd”.
This title I have of course adapted from Thomas Hardy’s, “Far From The Madding Crowd “. I have of late become an avid fan of Hardy’s work. I have been intrigued by his tales of love, loss and “what might have beens”, as well as his “And it it all worked out fine in the end anyway” scenarios. I suppose in many ways, I’m catching up on much of the work I neglected as a youth when preparing for my school exams with Mr Hardy was on the sylabus.
So with nothing more in the legs, bar a few walks in and around the aisles of Tescos this past fortnight I was approaching this Camino filled with all sorts of doubts and reservations. These not only stemmed from my lack of appropriate physial preparation but also my ability to deal with all that might be going on around me.
0n previous Caminos I defended my personal space vehemently and had been determined no one would get close enough to gate crash my desire for solitude and peace.
Thinking I had found these rare treasures on my initial hike across the North of Spain, I returned seeking more of the same, an experiential “Top- up” consisting of that blend of physical, mental and spiritual challenge that only the Camino can bring.
Like an addict I longed for the next hit, only I yearned time and space alone. Often I found myself asking “What are they running away from? ” when I saw of others of a similar ilk. I coined my own special term “Clegg “, for those who managed to violate my boundaries or perhaps linger too long for their own good in my company.
This time however there world be no splendid isolation. My wife and two of her friends would he joining us. There would now present me with a considerable challenge in balancing my traditional Camino approach with the fact that this time there was a ready-made group to which I belonged.
They say that the greatest of journeys begin with a single step. This one would be no different despite my having little or no expectations of it. I was happy to assume the more humble position of follower as we set of for Portomarin. Within a minute or so of leaving our accomodation we encountered a long and steep set of steps that towards the top, left my legs screaming and lungs gasping for air. This dealt me something of a rebuke as I began to regret not spending more time preparing in the forest trails close to my home. My first Camino began with an ascent into the Pyrenees and here I was struggling to climb a set of steps. I questioned my recent lack of commitment, the ever increasing amount of calories that I had consumed over the past year or so and then most painfully the fact that I was now five years older from when I marched the Pyrenees.
I lost myself in these thought’s as we swapped the lights of Sarria for the dark winding lanes that would eventually lead to our destination. I allowed myself to be polite and courteous as around me people of all ages, shapes, sizes and skin tones filed past me. He I was surrounded by the “Maddening Crowd ” I had feared so much.
At times the path narrowed, widened, turned and rose before us, but I felt strangely as ease. The threat I had felt from others on past trips had reliquished somewhat and I felt much more able to allow myself to flow freely along in this great stream of people.
I recalled studying Rivers as a boy at school and how from their youthful stage high in the mountains, where they gushed and rushed they eventually settled and calmed as they made their way to the sea, in what I recalled as the mature stage.
The words of Garth Brooks “The River”, were never far form my mind as I sailed my vessel on towards another high set of steps leading the town of Portomanin and the end of Day one.
Why not take 3 minutes and treat yourself a quiet moment as you listen to the river…
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