Ok, here’s the deal. People have been walking the Camino for over a thousand years. And there is a hierarchy of pilgrims along the way. Those held in highest awe are the ones who begin in a village in Britain or in Paris or somewhere in Northern Germany. Lower down the hierarchy are the ones who start where I did in St. Jean but who carry their pack every step of the way and refuse to book ahead to the next hostel because that would be cheating.
Then there is me. Walking and walking and walking and walking is wonderful. But sometimes one (read me, here) needs to shake it up a bit. I fell to the lowest ring of the hierarchy today because I rented a bicycle and had my pack shipped ahead (again). Last week I was rolling my eyes at the bicyclists charging down the paths. Today I was slowing way down if I passed a pilgrim so as not to startle them but really so they wouldn’t judge me…haha
For eight hours I rode with abandon. I love being on a bicycle. For the last three hours I was totally alone with my head phones blaring. When did I learn every lyric to every song by the Animals? Their two album set of greatest hits starting with “House of the Rising Sun” lasted for over 90 minutes. Anyone with a five mile radius of me could concur that I did know every lyric (luckily for everyone no one was within a five mile radius).
I arrived in Fromista at 7:20 p.m. totally wiped out. The sun took whatever was left out of me that hadn’t already been taken out of me by a killer hill I met at 4:15 p.m.I know I’m doing the Camino all wrong according to the rules of the real pilgrim. But the route I’m taking is my camino and it is offering me peace each stop of the way.
Today’s post is dedicated to Janet who graduated from law school this past October and from what I know of her drive, she is willing to break a few rules along the way to reach the destination best suited for her.
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