Sue, Barb, and Laurel taking a mini-rest on the Cope Hollow Trail in the Deam Wilderness (part of Hoosier National Forest)

The good? It jumps right out at you: three friends who said “yes” to a 10.5-mile stroll in the woods. That’s more than “good.” That’s “great”!  As if that weren’t enough, consider this: it’s mid-October (perfect time of year!), it is not rainy or misty or even mostly cloudy, we seem to have the entire forest to ourselves, there are tiny wildflowers along the path, sections with a soft carpet of pine needles, and though we are all wearing some blaze orange gear, “just in case,” we have not heard even the hint of a rifle shot (nor do we look in the least like squirrels, thank you very much, so you hunters, kindly leave us be). The fallen leaves don’t have that deep musty smell yet nor that fun fall crunchiness, but there are some colorful ones on the ground to get us in the mood for what is to come in the next few weeks. Good! All so very good!

Oh, but what do we have here? And there? And almost everywhere? Evidence, plain and simple, undeniable evidence that we share this trail with horses and the horse hooves have done extreme damage all along the trail. We straddle the mucky parts, or jump them, or maneuver around them as best we can. Not all the hoof falls left holes as deep as the ones in the photo above, but take my word for it, the trail is in pretty bad shape. The signage leaves a lot to be desired, but this is a designated wilderness area so maybe the paucity of blazes, markings, and posts can be forgiven. I had the AllTrails app to consult–another “good” aspect of the hike–so we felt pretty confident about our location.

And the ugly? I’ll spare you a picture. Let’s just say that those horses left behind more than their hoof prints. Much more! Picture piles. Picture mounds. Days old and fresh out of the…. Well, I won’t go there either; I’ll jump over that just as I jumped over those droppings I managed to see as I plodded along. And believe me, I stayed alert, eyes wide open!

Good practice, I suppose. I understand that pilgrims walking the Camino often share the trail with cattle and with the occasional donkey. It’s not unheard of to see the animals being herded through the cobblestone streets of small villages. That somehow seems more quaint and culturally interesting than coming upon the horse droppings in the forest, but who am I to judge?

When you come right down to it, don’t most of our days include a bit of the good, the bad, and the ugly? The key is to keep the proportions acceptable. I’d settle for 99% good, .75 bad, and .25 ugly.

And then there’s this thought: if at the end of the day I had the choice of looking at a pile of horse manure or at some puss-filled blisters on the bottoms of my feet, I just might choose the former!

For weeks our washing machine had been giving hints that all was not well.  Call it denial or wishful thinking or playing dumb, but I’ve perfected the art of ignoring hints until forced to do otherwise.  They say “don’t fix what isn’t broken,” right?  So the machine attempts to walk across the floor?  It’s got restless leg syndrome. Happens to the best of us on rare occasions.  It doesn’t spin the clothes as thoroughly as you expected?  Maybe just a fluke or maybe it’s a particular fabric.  But when the racket it makes during the spin cycle is enough to wake a hibernating bear AND the washer is walking AND the clothes are sopping wet, you’ve got my attention.  And when the repairman talks about a worn-out transmission, it’s time to go shopping.

In the meantime, however, a visit to the local laundromat is in order.  Thus the other afternoon I made not one, not two, but three trips to such an establishment, my front pouch filled with quarters, my backpack carrying detergent and a couple of books—don’t leave home without ‘em—and my cart filled to the brim with bags of dirty clothes.

(Cart?  Backpack?  Yes, of course I was walking to and from the laundromat.  Good way to get my daily “steps” in and my chores done.  Doesn’t walking make everything more interesting?)

So while load #1 was washing, I zipped over to the library; while load #2 was going through its cycles, I brought load #1 home to the dryer.  Then back to rescue load #2, and to begin #3.  You get the picture.

In the end, I didn’t have a spare minute to even crack the spine of the books I was carrying.  No time, in fact, to check my cell for texts or emails.  But as I loaded the wet clothes into my rolling cart, brought them home, carried them down the basement, repeating the process three times, I had plenty of time to think.  More time to think as I folded 22 t-shirts and as many pairs of underwear and socks.  More time still as I placed the clean clothes in drawers….

My thoughts ran along these lines: so for Spain, Katy, you are planning on taking the clothes you are wearing and one clean set?  (Ok, so you know you are going to cheat a wee bit in that regard, but still: it’s gotta fit in your backpack and you’ve got to carry it.). You are thinking you’re some kind of a “hero” for negotiating the laundromat, but in Spain are you going to be prepared to wash your clothes in a sink each night?  After you’ve found a place to rest your weary bones?  After you’ve found an ATM machine, a grocery store, a pilgrim-priced dinner?  After you’ve figured out how to connect to wifi?  After you’ve checked in with home, looked over the routes for the next day, stood in line for a shower?  After you’ve written in your journal and/or posted on WordPress?…  Oh….

If simplicity were an easy thing to achieve, there wouldn’t be so many books and blogs explaining how to achieve it.  I have a lot to learn, I’ll grant you that, before I am able to say with total conviction that “less is more.”  It sounds good until you look for a clean pair of underwear only to realize that the two pair you brought are both dirty….

My laundry preparations for the Camino, to date, consist of a 10’ length of thin rope to serve as an emergency clothesline and 6 light-weight plastic clothespins.  And a sink stopper.  All of which, in my search for simplicity and less weight, may remain at home.  I hear that body odor in the hostels can get a bit out of hand.  I’m beginning to understand.  I just might fit right in!

PS: About those 22 t-shirts and all the socks?  Keep in mind that I was washing clothes for three people and our machine had been on the blitz for over a week.

So, yep, that’s me!   Covered in fuchsia.   Ready for the elements! Hoping that if I have rain gear at my disposal while on the Camino, it will turn out to be totally unnecessary.  You know, like carrying an umbrella to keep the rain at bay.

Mostly, though, what I place in my backpack will be only the essentials, the bare minimum.  Now anyone who has seen me load or unload our van for a camping trip knows that a “minimalist” I am not.  I may never have been a Boy Scout, but the scout motto “be prepared” fits me.  I always have extras, “just in case.”  Why bring only one book—for a week-end getaway, mind you—when I might bring five?  Such thinking applies not only to books but to food, drink, and outerwear.  My go-to philosophy?  Always carry a layer or two more than you expect to wear so you have something in reserve.  And never—not ever, not even in summer—leave home without fleece.

Fast forward to April 2019.  Picture me with my open backpack on my right, a digital scale on my left, and many items awaiting the verdict of Judge Scale (“yes, bring it” “absolutely not,” “maybe, if you remove something else”), the reality of the spacial limitations of my pack and the weight-bearing limitations of my back being a very hard pill for yours truly to swallow.

No doubt I’ll have plenty more to say about “the packing list” dilemma as travel time draws near.  There’s little doubt, however, that the fuchsia rain jacket, providing it passes muster with this autumn’s rain and this winter’s inevitable snowflakes, will be accompanying me to Spain.   The wide-brimmed “plum” hat, too, because when the rain in Spain is not falling on the plane-Jane pilgrim, then the country’s brilliant sun will be doing so.  Either way, I’ll be covered.

Or I might have titled this post: EXPERIMENTING. Yep, I’m checking out what it might be like to blog from Spain using the WordPress app on my phone connected via Bluetooth to the portable keyboard.

Well, there’s one paragraph. Easy enough. If Kevin asks when he comes in tonight: “Did you try it?” I can respond in the affirmative. Hmmm…. I wonder where I would find accents should I need them in reporting what towns I walked to or through on my day’s route. But that’s seven months from now, so why worry, right?

Oh, but then I think how quickly the last seven months have gone. Seven months ago we were getting ready to head to White Springs, Florida, to escape a couple of weeks of Midwest winter.* The months since then have passed quickly, no question about it. The next seven will be no different….

Still…. I’m more concerned with getting my body in shape, with toughening my feet, with practicing the art of letting go and learning how to embrace simplicity. The accents can wait, even forever if it comes right down to it. (See, I’m already getting better at that letting go thing!)

Conclusion: this little keyboard does the job! And the tiny phone screen onto which the keyboard is projecting my words? It’s fine! More than fine! App, keyboard, screen, they have all passed the test. One less excuse for not blogging….

*Can’t help but mention that the winter we wanted to evade…. it awaited our return and dumped snow on us several times in April. Wondering if the Camino will “bless” us with snow in April of 2019. Stay tuned!

Yes!  That is the question.  I want to somehow keep track of this journey I am embarking on, if only for my own sake, if only to prod my leaky memory in years to come.  And I want to share some of my experiences with those who might be interested.  Some will care only about the very basics (“How many miles has she managed to travel?”  “How are the feet holding out?”  “And the knees, the hips, the back, what about them?”  “And Katy’s spirits?  Is she still holding on to them, keeping them tethered so they don’t take off with her… or did her bubble of enthusiasm pop with the first blister?”).  Others might only want to glance at an occasional photo.  Close family members might think they’ll hang on every word, forgetting–until reality reminds them–that I can be a very wordy person….

Or can I?  For sure I’ll have my phone with me, but my one-fingered pecking away on a tiny screen will get old very quickly, and I can say upfront that I’d only record the most noteworthy experiences.  For about a day!  A week at most!  But there’s a chance I’ll bring along the portable keyboard Kevin found for me (if my pack will permit its bulk and its 9 ounces, something I won’t be deciding until I’m closer to departure).  Ah, give me a keyboard and I’m off and running.

Except, of course, when the only thing running is that of Ol’ Man Time doing his escape thing.  Or when, faced with a blank screen, Writers’ Block rears his ugly face.  After all, Kevin set up this site for me a good five or six days ago and I’ve been dragging my feet about writing a first post even though we have it designed at this point as a totally private site to which absolutely no one can gain access.

I have to ask again: do I really want to do this?  (Uh… yes… no… maybe… but darn it all, I would love to record details, and I do want to share experiences and photos without feeling obliged to send large numbers of emails.  Facebook?  I just can’t wrap my mind around it; I lurk there on occasion, “like” people’s photos from time to time, send the occasional birthday wish, but I seem to never post anything to my own page.  Too public!  Just… “not me.”  So I’m really resisting the FB thing).  Then there’s this: will anyone read a blog if I do one?  (Easy one to answer, because frankly, my dear, I don’t give a…fig.  Not my problem.)  But most importantly: will I follow through or will this be just one more of my brainstorms that loses steam?  And that, I’m afraid, is the $34,000 question.

To which I respond: So, maybe this site will peter out, maybe it won’t.  But here it is, my first post!