It is official!  My little cousin Ginny is joining our ranks!  I’ve seen her flight information and count on her arriving at JFK on April 2 in plenty of time to join me and Barb as we cue up to board our Iberia flight for Madrid.  How cool is that?

“Just out of the blue?” you ask?  “Just like that?  You send her your itinerary and all of a sudden she’s thinks “maybe I should do that too“?  No, it wasn’t like that at all.  Well, mostly not like that.

Yes, it is true that within days of learning of our departure date, she hustled to the internet to see what flight plans she could come up with.  (Get this: she did so just enough days later that she managed to secure the same Iberia flight for $135 less than what we paid.  But whose counting pennies?!)  Ginny, though, had had the Camino on her radar for years.  Back in January of 2017 she and I were together with our sisters and cousins (“sister cousins” we call ourselves), luxuriating in a week-long “gathering of the flock” in a quiet community near Naples, Florida.  Ginny and I were roommates.

That’s me on the right.  Bets and Pat behind Ginny.

So back to January, 2017, and that shared bedroom in Florida: it was then, exactly two years ago, that I learned of Ginny’s plan to walk the Camino francés in the fall of that year.  We were giddy as we talked about her plans and preparations and mine for more or less the same time period: first European trip my husband and I were taking together, but no where close to Spain.  “If your plans fall through,” Ginny told me, “you’d be more than welcome to join me for any stage of my Camino.”  As it turned out, my trip was a “go”; hers was interrupted by some cranky body parts, perhaps resulting from Ginny’s aggressive hiking in the fall of 2016.

Because a hiker she is!  (And a canoeist, a camper, a runner, and, in general, an “I can do this” kind of person.)  When the fates are on our side–determination, hard work, and following the doctor’s orders help as well–those stubborn body parts heal.  Fortunately that has been the case with Ginny.  (Don’t we all keep our fingers constantly crossed in that regard?  “Knock on wood” and all that….)  The long and the short of it is that by August of 2018 when Ken and I had the privilege of visiting Ginny and Tom in their cozy “cottage” north of Duluth, Ginny was ready to get back into the hiking.  Together we hit a beautiful and not-too-difficult section of the Superior Hiking Trail, one that Ginny had not completed before.  You see, back in 2016 she set the goal of hiking every one of the 310 miles of this challenging, gorgeous footpath.  The trail (mostly) overlooks Lake Superior, extending from somewhere just south of Duluth to the Canadian border.  Our trek on that hot-for-the-North-Shore day added about 6 miles to her log and brought her, if I recall correctly, to a total of 260 miles or so of the trail.

And a seed was planted.  No, I take that back.  It was planted, deep in a secret corner, when I alerted Ginny, back in late spring, that I was sure wanting to imitate my new friend Virginia and head to Spain.  How could I not direct cousin “Virginia” to the other Virginia’s Facebook page where fabulous pictures and some commentary were posted every day?  So yes, the seed had been planted earlier, but I think our August hike served as fertilizer for that seed.  It received further sunshine and encouragement a few months later when nine of us girl cousins (“sister cousins”) gathered for a reunion. It prodded and poked and “nagged” and germinated and, in spite of the North Shore’s cold December, it sprung from the earth in the form of a text from Ginny sent on December 4:

… could I be so bold as to ask if you’d consider a Cuz on the Camino at the same time [as you]?

After receiving my very positive and enthusiastic response, she texted the following:

… I’m overwhelmed with joy and you know how much I want to make this pilgrimage!  I’m not certain why or what this journey may have in store for me, but I am hoping for some insight about….  It is going on 7 yrs. since I first learned of the Camino de Santiago and it has been a burning passion that has been squelched by injuries and finance-but that makes me all the more passionate after wading through setbacks and hardships to reach this goal.  I feel like I have already been on my own pilgrimage to get this far.  That said, it is going to take some true, focused commitment to launch me on this journey.

It was not a “yes, I’m going” but a “wow, you’ll have me?  I gotta see if I can work this out” kind of response.  And hard as it was, I left Ginny alone to do that work.  And work she has!  In more ways than you can imagine.  Between that December 4th exchange and the purchase of our plane tickets, Ginny’s Camino seed grew and grew.  And bloomed.  Ginny will be a key player in our Camino bouquet.

So yes, my little cousin.  The youngest of the 19 first cousins that comprise the family tree descending from James and Agnes.  As the photos above will attest, at one time the five years of age separating us were pretty huge; now, however, they are totally insignificant.  Except for this: Ginny has a big birthday coming up.  Uncle Sam will be responsible for her health care for exactly one full day before he gets a six-week hiatus when she leaves the country.  Lucky guy!  But Ginny gets to celebrate that big birthday during her second week in Spain.  Lucky her!  Barb and I get to celebrate with her.  Luck all around!

Ginny taking a lunch break on the gorgeous Superior Hiking Trail, August 2018.  I ate, too, but at this moment I was busy snapping this photo of her.

Stay tuned for photos of us together on the Camino!

(Caveat: This post was designed as a labor of love and gratitude, in a spirit of “let’s try [this or that],” by yours truly, a very inexperienced designer!  For what it’s worth, the post “views” much better on a computer where, I promise, when there’s a reference to a “photo below” or “to the left” or “to the right,” that is truly where the photo is!  On your phone or tablet?  Maybe not….  Please be forgiving; I think you’ll figure out who is who, and know this: I’m writing about some amazing people!  Any misrepresentation of their advice should be blamed on my sometimes-selective memory and/or my poor hearing, and is deeply regretted.  )

Is there anyone left who hasn’t done the Camino?  Or doesn’t know someone who has just returned from completing it?  Or was planning on setting off for Roncevalles or St. Jean-Pied-de-Port before injuries reared their ugly heads or hiking mates backed out?  Talk about opening a Pandora’s box: just mention that you are going to do the Camino and former pilgrims will be coming out of the woodwork.  So, thinks I, why not collect their wisdom and advice to have at the ready?  There are online forums where every Tom, Dick, and Harry pipes up with an opinion to share with other Toms, Dicks, and Harrys, but I’ve been lucky enough to have people speaking (or writing) directly to me, for my benefit.  (Thus, if they mislead me, I know right where to find them to complain, right?  They won’t dare lead me astray or give me bum tips.  Not if they know what is good for them!)

Virginia

She walked the 500-mile Camino francés in spring of 2018

” T R U S T ! “

(And this advice from someone who, within hours of arriving in Spain, had her passport and all her money stolen!)

Mary Beth

Mary Beth advised that I not put too many expectations on my walk, that I not decide ahead of time what I would or “should” get out of the walk.  She said she just asked God to show her what she needed to see and understand on the walk.  In her own words, these are the lessons she learned:

• When I was walking up a very long hill, I kept thinking I could see the top, but I couldn’t.  It’s almost like a mirage…. The parellel in real life is that when we are going through dificult challenges, we have no idea how long or how difficult it will be, but trusting in God enables us to keep putting one foot in front of the other and not giving up.
• …it doesn’t matter if you are leading the pack or coming in last or even if you have to stop partway and get on the bus, you did what you could and that’s okay.  The journey is not a competition but an experience.
• Finally, I learnd a new appreciation for taking time to enjoy my surroundings as I walked, seeing God’s beautiful creation all around me in the countryside, in the towns we passed through, in the people we traveled with and met on the trail.

Oh, and she urged that I bring a second pair of shoes so I wouldn’t have to walk around in wet ones in the evenings.

Bonnie was a student in my sister Pat’s sociology (or was it religion?) class well over 50 years ago.  That a relationship has continued through the years seems nothing short of amazing.  Equally astounding is that on the basis of that relationship Bonnie took the time to send me a detailed (3 pages, typed!) packing list explaining what she carried in her pack and the rationale behind her choices.  Packing lists abound online, but Bonnie’s generous sharing was very welcome.  I expect to be pouring over it as I prepare my pack.  A few items grabbed my attention:

• bridal veil netting sprayed with permithran (bed-bug prevention)
• side-S hook to hang [the permithran-treated] backpack from bunk bed
• vaseline for lubing feet (validating what I have been doing for months)
• the importance of layers to accommodate the temperatures at all hours of the day

What she didn’t explain: how I’m going to fit everything I’ll want to have in my pack and keep the weight at 15 pounds or under….

Sheryl and I got in touch by phone at the suggestion of our mutual friend, Sheryl’s neighbor Liz.  She walked the traditional Camino francés in late May and June of 2013.  To say she loved the experience would be an understatement–“one of the best things I ever did,” she assured me–but unlike Virginia who said “trust,” and Antigone who assured me I wouldn’t have any trouble with the walk, that it wasn’t really that hard, Sheryl didn’t mince any words.  She warned me

• that the grade on some of the inclines was going to blow my mind
• that “everybody was in pain,” regardless of age or shape or physical condition
• that there are lots of germs to be caught in the hostels and that it would be wise to have some Emergen-c along
• that I should walk less at the beginning of the trek and also at the end, doing longest daily walks in the middle of the pilgrimage
• that I should read up on how to avoid or minimize lactic acid build-up in my legs (drink plenty of water & do extra stretching)

Father Joseph

He did a couple of weeks–and 222 miles–on the Camino in late summer of 2018

Onward!  Ultreia!

Maureen

“The physical preparation is important,” she said, “but the mental and spiritual preparation is just as important.  Don’t neglect it.”  She recommended the book The Art of Pilgrimage by Phil Cousineau.

You can tell from the photo to the left that Maureen had quiet moments for prayer and reflection.

I ran across a former colleague from the Spanish department while out hiking.  She was curious about my loaded pack and my hiking poles.  Upon learning of my upcoming trek, she asked if I knew Kelly (I did, though not well) and she told me that Kelly had done the Camino a couple of times.  I promptly sent Kelly an email and she generously shared these tips:

• go as light as possible
• get waterproof boots
• bring a cotton or silk sleeping bag liner
• consider silk underwear tops and bottoms
• start hiking at first light for best pick of overnight stays

Pat didn’t give advice as much as she just told me what she did and how she did it.  The advice can be read between the lines: find some great food, some spectacular wine, interesting places to stay, and let the culture just wash over you. 

“Look to your right, pilgrim! Stop & rest your weary feet and quench your thirst!”

Antigone

Pictured above–filling a thermos with (free) wine from a wine fountain outside a bodega along the Camino–is my cousin Kathy’s stepdaughter.  Though we’ve never met in person, we’ve texted, emailed, and spoken on the phone.   Antigone shared her Camino experiences with generosity and enthusiasm.

Read Joyce Rupp’s book: Walk in a Relaxed Manner: Life Lessons from the Camino

Check!  1st Camino book I read. 

Have a second pair of shoes

Agreed!  Won’t leave home without ’em!

but the most important piece of advice they could offer:

Celia

I had met Celia on numerous occasions, typically at birthday parties for the daughter of a mutual friend.  That’s going back 15 to 20 years or more.  When that friend mentioned that Celia had done the Camino and had traveled to Spain annually for month-long visits for over two decades, with students and independently, and offered to provide me with Celia’s address, I didn’t know what a tremendous favor she was doing me.  My first thought was: why not connect with her?  Exchange an email or two, perhaps even a phone call.  Another “trophy” for this blog post which was already being drafted.  What a surprise to have Celia respond to my first email with the suggestion that she could drive the hour or so to Bloomington so we could lunch and chat.

And so it came to pass.  What a delight to spend a couple of hours visiting with Celia over some yummy Thai food.  The surprises continued and my jaw nearly dropped when I learned that Celia had begun serious research on the Camino as early as 2000, that she has published scholarly articles, presented many talks, and hobnobbed with other Camino experts through the years!  All news to me!  I was totally taken in by her bright-eyed enthusiasm as she talked about finally walking the Camino–the 500-mile francés– in June of 2011 (not quite half of it) and June of 2013 (the rest).  Now her bucket list includes returning as a volunteer along the route.  Celia facilitated my reconnecting with a professor of mine from the early 1970s, who, she told me, was one of the “prime movers” in the reawakening of the Camino that slowly began by the mid-to-late 70s and early 80s.  Wow!  Thanks, Celia! (And thanks, Dave!)

And on and on!  My sister has a neighbor who completed the Camino with her husband and has gone back as a volunteer.  “I’d love to talk with your sister,” she told mine.  “Maybe we could meet her half way between here [Chicago] and Bloomington.”  I’ve learned that a former colleague did it with his wife and their 2- and 4-year-olds.  That a former neighbor, from just across the street, first walked and then, like my sister’s neighbor, returned to volunteer as a volunteer.  There’s Susie and Jen, daughters of my friend Sue’s neighbor…. Truly, I’m almost afraid to mention my plans as I then can’t resist the temptation to get in touch with all these people and hear their experiences.  Each pilgrim puts his or her own spin to the journey because, it’s obvious, each one walks his or her own Camino.  Though the words and the advice vary, all seem to love talking about and sharing their story.  The one universal statement I have heard is this:

I’m inclined to believe that!  For now, though, I feel the need to retreat a little bit, to quiet down, to pay more attention to my Camino.  I’ll be a more prepared pilgrim, and, I believe, a more giving one, thanks to the efforts to which others have gone in order to set me at ease and smooth my path.  It’s probably time–beyond time now!–to gently shut the door and seek within, to ask, of myself, the kinds of questions that only I can answer.  And also this: I want to leave room for the mystery and the unexpected gifts.  The surprises.  The messages.  The lessons.  Somehow I suspect that they will be present and plentiful.  Hopefully my interior soil will be sufficiently tilled and receptive to the seeds that fall my way.

I’ve had a bit of fun lately thinking of myself as a pilgrim-to-be and of my preparations for the pilgrimage as a sort of pregnancy.  Up until recently, I had an approximate “due date” (“D-date” or “do it date” or, if you must, “departure date”) of early-to-mid April, but now all evidence (as in the recent purchase of plane tickets) points to the specific date of April 2.  A scheduled “C” (for “Camino”) session.

And consider this: the thought of becoming a pilgrim had flitted through my head for years as I witnessed some of my friends chosing pilgrimhood.  I, however, didn’t think I had what it took.  Then, as my biological clock began ticking away, I was filled with the realization that it was a matter of “now or never,” and the thought did more than flit through my head but rather took up residence not only there but–ah!  essential!–in my heart as well.  By late June I was committed.  So, you do the math: from the start of July through the end of March: no cutting corners; this will be a full-term pregnancy.

FIRST TRIMESTER: July – August – September

This was a time for getting used to the idea of being a pilgrim-to-be.  A time for seeing myself in a bit of a different light.  I began reading about others who had done the Camino and the life lessons learned from the experience.  I had a million questions and pursued answers through reading online forums and talking with Virginia and Antigone who had both just completed the Camino in June.  These one-on-one conversations were very reassuring and personal, allowing for questions, answers, and follow-up questions and clarifications.  Everything pointed to: “Don’t worry!  You will love it!”  The online forums, on the other hand, were a bit unsettling.  There might easily be ten or twenty or even forty answers to each question posed by any number of pilgrims-to-be, many answers being totally contradictory.  Most boiled down to: “It depends”…. I learned not to read the forums near bedtime lest my mind should whirl and work overtime, cutting into precious sleep.

In fact, if there was any particular and disagreeable symptom of this first trimester it was “difficulty sleeping.”  That symptom, however, disappeared when I began serious hiking.  The heat, along with the exercise, and the realization that I was taking concrete steps (literally and figuratively) to ready myself for pilgrimhood allowed me to fall into a much better sleeping pattern.

During this first trimester I made some major decisions regarding purchases I would need as a pilgrim.  Some of those purchases were put to immediate use.  We’re talking shoes, boots, and backpack.  Oh, and a new-to-me refurbished phone, which, while still several “generations” old, is an improvement on the one I had; it should serve me well in Spain.

No morning sickness to speak of.

SECOND TRIMESTER: October – November – December

A time of great contentment.  My body began to feel much more prepared. Little wonder, as it truly was!  During the first trimester I averaged 57 miles/month; during this second trimester, the average was up to 90 miles/month.  The contentment was the result, no doubt, of the many hours spent surrounded by beauty and in the company of a variety of friendly, energetic, nature-loving women who, like me, felt blessed to be able to be out on the trails.  October in Indiana is often “to die for.”  This year did not disappoint, and the month was even more glorious because daughter Maura was home for a week-plus visit and was eager to spend most of her time “playing” in nature.  Fall’s beauty lingered long into November.  First colorful leaves delighted our eyes; then their crunchiness underfoot became natural music for our ears.  Late fall hiking meant: no extreme heat, no spider webs through which to walk, no fear of those dreaded ticks.  A small price to pay in exchange for the need to wear blaze orange hats or vests and wonder what game was legal for hunters in any given week.  So, yes, contentment.  A body getting stronger for the upcoming task of pilgrimhood.

Also, more contact with other pilgrims.  (I first wrote “former pilgrims,” but then decided that “once a pilgrim, always a pilgrim,” at least in most cases.  Pilgrims learn new ways of seeing things, new ways of thinking and interacting, and those ways, with a bit of effort, remain long after the pilgrimage has been completed.)  More reading.  Some videos about the Camino.  See fear and apprehension decrease while enthusiasm builds.

It was in October or early November when Barb, who had been wavering, came on board.  The Camino had been on her bucket list before it ended up on mine, though she envisioned doing it “some fall.”  My decision to tackle pilgrimhood on the cusp of my 70th birthday prompted her to do the same.  (I will, however, remain her elder by almost half a year.)  It’s great to have someone with whom to discuss and share ideas, concerns, books, videos, and logistics.  My Spanish and her travel savvy, common sense, and better memory will complement each other.  Peace of mind.

Possibly the best trimester.

THIRD and FINAL TRIMESTER: January – February – March

And here we are, a few weeks into the third and final trimester.  This is real!  It’s not just “fun and games” anymore, not just “talk.”  It’s going to happen.  That reality hits home even more now that the airfare has been purchased.  There is no stopping this process.  (No, do not remind me that nothing in life is certain or promised, that life can change on a dime, etc., etc.  I can’t go there!)

So maybe it’s understandable that the sense of contentment recedes a bit and gives way to, once again, some anxiety and apprehension.  There are a lot of nitty-gritty things to deal with, decisions that have been set aside in favor of training and which cannot be postponed forever.  Many of these details involve aspects of overseas travel that I don’t understand all that well, like figuring out: what kind of SIM card I’ll get once in Spain and what kind of a data plan I’ll need for my phone; the best way to carry and to obtain money on a trek where cash is going to be king; how I’m going to pare it all down so that my pack is both light and–I hope, I hope!–able to be compressed and thus qualify as a “carry on”… while still bringing all those little things (clothespins, headlamp, chargers, toiletries, and the many, many “nice-to-have” things that fellow pilgrims suggest one bring along).  Yes, a bit anxiety-producing.  Said anxiety can be counterbalanced with some of those long back-to-back hikes that the training guides recommend for this final trimester… but squeezing them in as sub-zero or even single-digit temperatures threaten is a challenging prospect. Snow and ice could make it harder to get to the trail heads and, once there, harder to stay on the trails and safely negotiate them.  Say hello to a bit of indoor walking and stair-stepping I suppose….

And then these haunting, daunting, thought-provoking questions:  Will I measure up?  Will I be a good pilgrim?  Or a “good enough” pilgrim?  Do I understand that there’s no need to be a super-pilgrim?  I’m growing physically, but am I mentally and spiritually as open to possible changes as I might be?  Do I really know what I’m getting into?

At this juncture, some deep breathing is probably called for.  Plus some letting go.  Let it happen, Katy.  Let nature take its course.  And remember: regular, ordinary people have managed to become pilgrims for centuries upon centuries.  Indeed, pilgrimhood is one of the most natural, time-tested conditions of both body and soul. Get ready to join the club.  When it comes right down to it, it’s a very inclusive one, with room for all kinds of folks.

No turning back!  Stay tuned for April 2 and beyond.

Yes!  We did it!  Selected “next” and “continue,” agreed that we had indeed–which of course we hadn’t!–read all the fine print, and provided our credit card numbers and… we’ve booked our flights to and from Madrid.  Yikes!

Ok, so it wasn’t as easy as I just made it sound.  I wish!  Barb–who joins me for the first half of my trek–arrived with her iPod in tow about 2:00 pm yesterday and we both got online, searching for flight bargains with the aid of Google flights.  Three hours later, after numerous false starts, lots of consternation, scribbles, statements like “oops, that won’t work” as we discounted long layovers, sleeping in a terminal at JFK, and flights which would preclude using the Bloomington-to-Indy shuttle, we gave each other high-fives and checked one very pressing thing off our list.

Those three hours were harder, and without a doubt more nerve-wracking, than any hikes I’ve done lately.  More expensive, too!  A typical hike of late has cost me $1.29, the price of a pair of air-activated heat packs to keep my hands warm.  Our airfare?  We’re pleased enough with the prices we got, but not shouting them from the rooftop.  I generally finish a hike waxing poetic about its beauty; we wrapped up our booking session yesterday thinking that our dinner might go down a lot better if accompanied by something alcoholic.

I wrote a post just over a week ago (7 x 7 = another goal met) in which I had some fun playing with the number 7.  Well, what do you know: 77 mornings from now, I’ll be heading for the airport!

So… why have I been awake since 1:30 am?  Why was I sitting in front of the computer by 3:30, counting sheep, counting blessings, praying for friends having failed to quiet my mind and let me sink back into slumber?  Purchasing my tickets, having a firm departure date, proving once and for all a complete commitment to the Camino….  I expected to sleep like a baby.  Instead, I find myself going over and over in my mind some of the finer details of the flights:

• what if I can’t compress my backpack enough for it to be considered a carry-on?
• what if that travel insurance I purchased with the tickets doesn’t really cover what I need it to?
• what if early April brings one of those big Northeastern snow dumps?
• what if, horror of horrors I forget my passport or drivers license…?  (Can’t you just hear me talking to myself and falling victim to the following logic?  “Katy, you won’t need that; you’re going to be walking, for crying out loud!!!”  Yeah, I’d be crying all right!…
• what if…?
• and so on…

I might have answered those questions with another set:

• what if you just relaxed?
• what if you practiced “trust” and realized that yours are truly 1st world problems?
• what if you remembered that “sufficient unto the day are the troubles therein?” and you focused on NOW instead of on 77 days from now? or if you told yourself not to sweat the “small stuff” (which is everything, right?)?  or repeated either of these mantras to ease into sleep: “it’s all good” or “all will be well and all will be well and all manner of things will be well”
• what if you had to pay to check your bag?   It wouldn’t be the end of the world.
• what if you take half a benadryl or even a whole one the next time your mind goes into overdrive?
• what if you tried listening to some harp music on your iPod?
• what if…?

So many solutions. Instead of implementing any of those great ideas, however, I got up to write this post.  And now?  Still kind of early for even an early breakfast.  What if I…?

And on the 7th day she rested.

Well… not exactly.  Everything is relative.  Today is the 7th day of January, but unless you call washing and folding three loads of laundry, chopping and roasting three kinds of veggies, cleaning up the kitchen after three meals eaten by three people, running an errand, taking a walk with a friend, writing some checks, and removing (almost) all evidence of the recent Christmas holiday from the first floor of the house… unless you call all that “resting,” then today was not exactly a day of R & R.  In comparison to the seven previous days, however, it was pretty tame.

You see, I got a bee in my bonnet a few weeks ago when the notion of walking at least 7 miles a day for 7 days in a row popped into my head.  It struck me as one of those S.M.A.R.T. goals, being specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, and time-bound.  Besides, it had a nice ring to it, like the musical Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.  And also, as far as the number 7 goes:

• it’s a sacred, symbolic number
• Catholics–at least those of my generation and before–learned of the 7 sacraments, the 7 gifts of the Holy Spirit, the 7 deadly sins and the 7 virtues to counteract those 7 deadly or cardinal sins
• it’s one full week
• it represents the month of my birth
• when multiplied by itself you get my birth year
• add a zero to it and–ta da!–that’s how old I’ll turn on my 2019 birthday
• put another 7 after the first and you have–another ta da!–Ken’s age
• there are three of them in my cell phone number (though only one in my SS #)
• if you wanted to break the 7th commandment and steal my identity, the above list gives you a pretty decent head start…. but please don’t lest you tumble into the 7th circle of Dante’s hell… and then you wouldn’t have a ghost of a chance to visit the 7 wonders of the world
• consider how many dwarfs Snow White befriended, how many samurai helped protect a Japanese village from bandits, and the number of storeys in Thomas Merton’s mountain (Merton’s autobiography, by the way, was on the best-seller list for almost all of 1949 [uh, another 7 X 7…]); and Ingmar Bergman’s classic film was not called The Sixth Seal nor The Eighth Seal now, was it?

Pretty lame, I know.  I tend to get carried away at times….

The point is, though: the Camino is going to be asking for significantly more than 7 miles/day of me, and it sounded like a good idea to test the waters–or the feet–to gauge my progress.  “7 for 7” was truly a SMART goal. Besides, when I looked at the 10-day forecast as 2018 was drawing to a close, I could see that the unseasonably warm weather was going to be with us for a bit. The window of opportunity was right there and I decided to open it and jump on through before winter realized it was supposed to be on duty.

The results?  A husband who wonders if I still live here, a house that has been given “a lick and a promise” for too many consecutive days, and a weekly report from Fitbit noting that I took 39,303 more steps during my “7 for 7” week but slept on average 27 minutes fewer per night.  Hmmm.  It felt like I’d missed considerably more sleep than that.  Considerably!  The good news?  My body seemed to handle things just fine.  I won’t say my feet weren’t a bit tender by the time I removed my hiking boots, but: no blisters, no Ibuprofen needed, no falls.

So how long does it take to walk 7 miles?  What’s the big deal?  You’re thinking: just cut out a few TV shows, stop texting, don’t check email more than twice a day….  Easier said than done.  During my challenge twice I walked the track at the local gym (BORING!  intolerable without an audiobook); I could manage the actual walking in less than two hours.  Then there’s the time spent driving to and from, changing clothes, etc.  Twice I walked city and neighborhood trails and paths, once alone and, on New Year’s Day, with a small group.  Fairly flat.  I’d guess 3 miles/hour, a bit more when walking alone.  The other three outings were adventures: one natural forest, one state park, one nature preserve.  Hills and valleys, ravines, creek crossings, switchbacks, reasons to stop to gawk and take the occasional photo….  Two of those three were group events at a more casual pace than I am used to.  In general, though, when stopping to wait for dawdlers doesn’t need to be factored into the equation, I’m walking in the woods at about a 2.25-2.5 mph pace.  So do the math–you’re probably better at it than I am–and don’t forget to add in the prep time at home, the drive to and from the forests, and the unloading and putting things away at the conclusion of the hike.  Plus the time spent deciding where to go, possibly organizing a group, arranging for car pools, etc., etc.  The hours add up.

At least on the Camino, walking will be the task of the day instead of the activity I try to squeeze into my normal routine without missing too many beats of that routine.  While in Spain I won’t be fitting in a walk in between memorial services, housework, lunches with friends, and volunteer gigs .  The main goal of each day will be to get from spot A to spot B.  Secondary goals, though also very important: to drink plenty of water, consume adequate carbs, establish a balance between being friendly and maintaining my own pace and space, find a bed to sleep in and a way to convert my fellow pilgrims’ snoring into lullabies.  And, ideally, write a few words about my day for the folks back home.

Here’s a sort of fun discovery I just made while writing this post.  That Fitbit report I mentioned?  It coincides exactly with my “7 for 7” week, beginning on Monday, December 31st and concluding on Sunday, January 6th.  My hiking log shows that my “intentional hikes”–the actual walking done in my hiking shoes, my feet smothered in Vaseline, my backpack weighing between 13 and 16 pounds–added up to 49.5 miles.  My Fitbit, however, recorded my TOTAL mileage for the week as 69.65, the additional 20 miles coming from errands to town, chores around the house, trips up and down the basement stairs, loops through the grocery store, and so forth.  Now round up that number and what do you get?  Yes!  Cool, no?  Don’t you just love it?

Let the magic continue

The weather forecast earlier this week called for back-to-back delicious December days: full sunshine with temperatures hitting a mid-afternoon high around 50 degrees.  Time to take action and put together a couple of substantial hikes.  On the Camino, every day will include a “substantial hike,” but for starters it seemed that two such days in a row were in order.  Way back in July I followed a 10-mile hike with a 7.5-mile one, but now it was time to up the ante.  With that in mind, I sent out an invitation to the WINNERS to see who might want to join me.

The WINNERS?  Yes, to the ever-growing ad hoc group of folks who had expressed an interest in taking on some hikes that were a bit–everything is relative, you understand…–on the “faster and the longer” side.  My initial “hiking list” included about 8 names; it’s now up to 26.  That’s a lot of folks wanting to get out in nature or at least hear about opportunities to do so.  For months we have limped along anonymously, loosely linked in my contacts under “hiking group.”  I decided it was time to come up with an acronym that might convey a bit about who we were, and I sent out a request for suggestions.

Sue, Liz, Eleanor, Barb, Gayle, Shari, pictured at our “lunch break” adjacent to the Hays Family Cemetery plot on the Grubb Ridge Trail (in the Deam Wilderness)

All smiles (and sun grins)!  We had a lot to smile about.  Like the way the sun gradually did both its warm-up magic as well as its enhancing magic when it made the creek down below us sparkle as it snaked its way through the valley.  Or the way the trail builders had created wonderful switchbacks so that, though the 13-milers among us climbed (and descended, right?) 147 “floors” in all, no ascents were steep enough to demand a catch-our-breath pause at the top.  Or the way there were almost enough strategically-placed stones to keep our feet mostly dry during the multiple creek crossings.  As ever, the patches of pine trees delighted the senses, as did the view from the ridge top of the white-boned sycamores lining a significant portion of the creek.  Conversation flowed.  Advice was given:  “come back in the spring to see the bluebells and the blue-eyed Susans”; “catch this trail when it snows”; “be sure to stretch to avoid muscle aches and cramps.”  Advice was sought, about hiking poles; about socks; about other good places to hike; about life.  The usual.  For all of us: a tremendous sense of gratitude for the blessing of being out in nature, “far from the madding crowd,” for blessings of health and energy which we recognize cannot ever be taken for granted.

You may be thinking: come on, Katy, it can’t ALL have been THAT good.  How about full disclosure?  Okay, so…  I’m thinking, I’m thinking…  There was mud, mud that even with the generous cushion of oak and beech leaves underfoot still oozed up in an attempt to envelope our shoes.  Um….  On the return trek, the sun was sometimes in our eyes making it hard to take in the surrounding beauty.  Let’s see….  I am already hearing-challenged, but to add insult to injury, one of my ears seems to be almost completely blocked with wax these days and so I missed some of the conversation and the bird songs (if, indeed, there were any…).  We didn’t see any soaring eagles or lolloping deer, no woodpeckers…; the wildlife pretty much gave us a wide berth.  And this: one of my little stumbles against a root had me on the ground ever so briefly, but I’m applying the three-second rule: if you are up within three seconds and your hiking mates didn’t even realize something was amiss, then it is not to be considered a fall.

I have a fun app (AllTrails) on which I can record hikes and then share trek statistics and photos.  Kind of fun for those who like that kind of thing.  So what the heck: if you are interested, check out either of the hikes at the links below.  The first is from December 17th (6 miles with Shari; 4 more on my own); the second from the 18th (10 miles with 6 others; the final three with 2 others)

https://www.alltrails.com/explore/recording/griffy-lower-and-upper?p=21821001

https://www.alltrails.com/explore/recording/13-miler-hays-grubb-to-peninsula-return

Assuming you don’t feel moved to check out the above links, below is my favorite photo of the “double-footer.”  Yes, I am really standing up straight!  Yes, plenty of room!.  I might easily have spread my lunch out inside and enjoyed a picnic there. With at least one other person!

Come on in! Plenty of room for company!

One set of sort-of-long back-to-back hikes does not tell me that I’m ready to do as many as twenty-four such duos, but each little challenge met is a step in the right direction.  As they say in Spanish:

Poco a poco se va haciendo

(roughly translated as) Step by step one gets things accomplished

And of course we all know how a journey of a thousand miles begins.  Let’s get going!