AS LOCKDOWN restrictions begin to ease, many have half an eye on a foreign holiday – some have even taken a chance, and have their post-lockdown escape booked. Up until last week, the only escape I coveted was to the west coast of Ireland, to the Atlantic. I just want to experience its might and majesty again.
On St Patrick’s night, I found myself drawn to the documentary The Camino Voyage, shown on TG4. I was extremely moved by this film when I first watched it, just over two years ago. This time, I found myself absorbing the stories and the characters in a completely different way.
I walked a leg of the Camino a few years ago. It was my wobble ahead of my 40th birthday. Milestones affect us in strange ways but my decision to embark on this journey was an extremely good one for me, and a definite turning point in life.
The simplicity I saw on screen prompted me to think of my own experience. These men took on a sea voyage from Ireland to the north coast of Spain in a naomhóg – a currach – surviving on the simple things in life – food, drink, a change of clothes, hospitality, friendship and kindness.
The simple things are all we have had for the past 12 months, aren’t they? For this very reason, I have often cast my mind back to the Camino experience during the past year.
As I approached 40, I decided that I wanted to do something, to achieve something. I considered Machu Picchu, or a similar trek. I looked into it and decided that I was much too lazy to take on such a challenge. Then I saw a poster for the Camino, a 100k walk over five days.
The trip further appealed to me as it was a fundraiser, organised by The Southern Area Hospice. If I did this for myself, I could perhaps help others at the same time.
In hindsight, I didn’t prepare as I should have. I underestimated the challenge. I was very unfit, and didn’t properly research what I was taking on. I over packed my bag, and off I went.
We flew to Santiago de Compostela and then travelled 113.4k west to Sarria – just so we could walk back to Santiago. All 113.4km.
We were up and away every morning around 6.30. We walked for between 15 and 25k each day. We walked on dirt paths, main roads, through villages and towns, through back yards, forests, on riverbanks. All I had to do was follow the Camino Way, denoted by a yellow arrow.
As I walked along, I would weave in and out of company – the hospice group, complete strangers and, most importantly, my own company. Through that time spent walking on my own, I had time to really think. I found so much peace in these moments.
I didn’t need much each day. I had a small backpack, a rain cape, my pilgrim passport, and some money to buy food. There were many small cafés dotted along the way. There were also honesty stalls, stocked with fresh fruit and local produce.
At the end of each day, a veritable feast of local food and wine awaited us. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten as well – or maybe the food tasted so good just because I had earned it with all the walking done on any particular day.
I was sharing a room with a complete stranger, I was out of my comfort zone. We ended up getting on really well, and we helped each other during the week – especially with the aches and pains.
In groups like this, there is always one very wise person. Our mother hen was Gertie. Gertie was in her 70s, and bumping into her along the way was always a great treat. She doesn’t know this, but if I was having a tough day on the Camino, she was the one who spurred me on, often without saying a word.
It’s only now when I look back on my Camino walk, that I realise that I needed to do it at that time. The trip taught me the importance of the simple things in life. Their importance has been highlighted again during this pandemic. I would love to walk a different part of the Camino in the future. In the meantime, I hope that I continue to prioritise what I learned on my first trip. The simple things in life are all that matter.
