Camino 6: Wednesday 30 October (Villafranca del Bierzo)

Song of the Open Road
BY WALT WHITMAN
1
Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.

The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)

I copied the opening lines of Whitman’s poem after a conversation with Beth about spirituality and poetry, so it is incredibly ironic that when the time came to publish this post, she and Wilma decided to go slow up the mountain to Villefranca. So I’m here with just Toby in the most unusual albergue I’ve yet come across, a bit cold, but the welcome to the ten pilgrims staying has been warm, the dinner amazing and the dedication to Santiago at Grace very moving, eight of us holding hands around a simple but delicious meal.

Now we are made up of Dianne, the Frenchwoman who is in her 70s and just indomitable; Tobias, whose army marching songs from the Bundeswehr got me through the last hour; Lena from Salzburg; Iiris from Finland who works in Belgium; and Patrick, Australian but living and working in Ireland as a barista, a very clever young man, I think, finding his way in life and using the Camino to make decisions about what comes next. There are others in the dorm,but we were the ones gathered around the table.

It has been a most beautiful day. The countryside is magnificent, the microclimate of Bierza, with the grapes for the famous red wine not trellised but growing naturally upon the red earth. Our trip would have been much easier had we not decided to have a long morning tea and then visit the Templar castle in Pontferrada.

Toby and I then compounded the error by having our usual radler at a bar on the way up the hill, but we still had five kilometres and it was 5.30. Iiris greeted us as we put on our packs, and so we walked through the gathering twilight, completely stuffed and wondering when the hell the trail would level out and the village appear. The orchards and grapevines were perhaps not completely appreciated as we wondered what our accommodation would be like. 7pm at the albergue is OK but it means no washing and not much in the way if time to reflect.

It is starting to get very cold and the night will involve blankets. I’m incredibly grateful for the generous presents that allowed me to make this trip, and on the eve of my birthday it seems good to celebrate them, as most of them were birthday presents. Liam game me my sleeping bag, and it has been perfect: the right weight and the right warmth, with only tonight in La Fenix presenting any challenges. The sticks are something that I would never be without on a walk again and I would heartily recommend them to anyone who carries a lack for more than ten kilometres, so thank you, Dominic: your old man thinks of you many times a day, particularly going uphill. Paula was more than generous with the boots, the fabulous Scarpas, and my misgivings about spending so much on footwear were completely wrong. I have no blisters and little foot pain, touch wood, and I am almost alone on the Camino in my luck. Good socks and good boots are the recipe for the simple happiness of the trail.

Tomorrow is the biggest challenge for me of the whole trip. There are two massive climbs, but the last one leads into Galicia and it is downhill to Santiago. I will be on the trail for at least six, if not seven, hours and I know that physically, it will be as demanding as it will be mentally. But my heart is very light. If I can overcome this, my journey with St James is going to be ultimately successful. Each step may not be a prayer — there are a few times when I ask God, why are you doing this to me, and I instantly realise that I am doing this to myself — but each is offered up as an act of faith in the life I have been given. It could end tomorrow, it could end soon, I could be, like Frost, telling this ages and ages past, 80 and more caminos achieved, but I am becoming aware that I have made my dent in the universe (to quote Steve Jobs) and it is a dent that has tended to bring happiness, rather than the alternative, to others. And the Camino’s gift to me? A recognition that I am person of the heart, at last (or perhaps at last I recognise it). I have never been alone on the trail unless I have chosen to be alone. Newman’s splendid phrase, heart speaks to heart, is never more true than on the Camino.

I am sitting here after dinner, drinking an electrolyte solution given to me by Beth, rubbing Voltaren into my sore muscles as suggested by Terry. I do some stretches like Wilma suggested. My valuables are always with me, like Kristen told me to do. None of them are here, but their generosity remains with me.