I woke up on Monday morning knowing that I would finally be visiting a part of the world that sparked so many thoughts and dreams inside my mind. Over one year ago, I remember sitting in that cafe with my good friend Rebecca very clearly. Traveling had been but a teeny, tiny thought in the back of my mind at this stage. There were still things to consider, choices to make, a conscience to follow. We reached the topic of Ireland and I expressed how much I dreamed to experience their culture one day. Rebecca had taken a recent trip to Scotland and almost instantly brought up this mystical destination. With excitement in her eyes she told me, “If you’re going to be near Scotland, you must go see The Fairy Pools.” We pulled up a photo on my phone and as they appeared, I was struck with amazement. The atmosphere seemed to sparkle with true magic and called out to me as a place I needed to be and absolutely could be. Looking at this photograph had me thinking of the many other almost unbelievable places the world holds. You read about them in the top ten books, watch them as backdrops in famous films and then wonder how you’ll ever be able to reach them yourself one day. They tend to seem so surreal. As I studied that photograph closer and closer, it hit me. For the first time in a long time, I realized that nothing was holding me back from immersing myself in these places that ignited such a passion and inspiring flame within me. I wanted to see them, didn’t I? Then why couldn’t I make the leap? I didn’t have permanent ties or commitments that had me stapled to the ground. In fact, nobody in this world really does. We choose our priorities and in that moment I was so sure of what mine were. My bucket list wasn’t going to sit in a corner and become torn as time passed me by. I needed to travel and The Fairy Pools would be seeing me very, very soon.

 

Finally, I found someone walking toward me on the trail and we stopped to photograph the same pond reflecting the peaks. He confirmed that I was in fact heading in the right direction and the pools were waiting for me at the end of the path. I continued on and had been wishing several times for a tripod. The lighting cast a shadow over almost everything and my photos weren’t having any of it. It was as if someone had heard my thoughts. I suddenly approached a beautiful waterfall and knew that I had arrived. A man sat crouched in front of it, balancing a tripod on a jagged rock. “Would you like to have a go with it?”, he asked me. I kid you not, this man proceeded to connect my camera to his tripod and let me use it for as long as I needed to get a clear and bright shot of the beautiful sanctuary in front of us. As Santiago in Paul Coelho’s The Alchemist always says, 

For the first time in hours I decided to check the time. Sure enough, I had been so lax about my pace that it had already reached 3:30 and the bus from Sligachan left at 5pm. Not only that, but the sun was going to start heading down soon and I wasn’t about to be hiking through this with no light. Still, I took my time walking. Regardless of what happened with the bus, I would get home. I wasn’t about to rush the one thing I had come here to see. But as the sky began to dim and the beautiful red sunset that I couldn’t stop admiring faded away, slight panic set in. I had to take my time so I wouldn’t fall into a ditch from running, but I sped up my pace as much as possible and prayed I would make it on time. I arrived in town at 5:10 and at this point it was so dark I was sure no one would be picking me up if I hitched my way back. The hotel that had given me directions to the path was locked up and every light was out. The bus had clearly left. There was no one around for miles and I was literally in the middle of nowhere. The lesson of “everything works out” that I learned with the sunflowers in Pisa has done me well every single time but this was one of the first moments where I was almost certain I would be stuck out here all night long. I even began brainstorming how I would keep myself warm overnight. Drama queen, I know. I was shocked at how down I suddenly became. I felt so helpless standing in the dark and the rain, entirely lost and with little hope for a rescue. Before things escalated too quickly, I snapped myself back into reality. Things do always come together if I believe they will. Why did I need any more proof?

 

It was my very first day on the Camino and the spiteful Pyrenees had introduced me to a downhill slope. My legs strained to keep their strength. The sound of steps followed behind me for quite a while before I turned around and noticed a father and daughter duo, arm in arm, walking my pace. Jess and Tomas had to have been the sweetest pair I had encountered yet. You could feel the care they had for each other and it was so special seeing it between a teenage daughter and her father, someone who a lot of eighteen year olds wouldn’t dare be seen with. I related immediately to their connection. I couldn’t stop thinking about how wonderful this trail would be if I was able to experienced it with my own father some day. We talked the whole way down and all the way up into Roncesvalles and I learned that Jess was planning to study Irish in school, a language I wasn’t at all familiar with. They taught me a few phrases on the way down and the usual conversation topics flowed. After we were assigned rooms, the fates placed us together again in the same little nook made of four beds. Jess and I were roomies for the night and after meeting the two of them that day, I continued to run into Jess and Tomas several times throughout the Camino. They unfortunately were only walking for a week and I had hoped to spend more time with them, especially as their departure date neared and I knew they wouldn’t be around the trail much longer. I remember the very last morning before they planned to head to the airport and back to Ireland. It so happened that we stopped for coffee in the same cafe at the same time and said a teary goodbye. “If you ever need a place to stay, our house is open”, Jess told me. “You can sleep in our treehouse”, piped Tomas. He was kidding of course but I seriously would have taken him up on that offer! For the record: the treehouse is awesome (and I slept in a bed…just to keep things straight). 

Jess and I became really close over the few days I was visiting. The family let me know I could stay as long as I needed which I was eternally grateful for. Every night I would look forward to what we called “half two chats” by the fire which lasted until at least 2:30am and sometimes later. Jess has such a kind heart and is a thoughtful and beautiful person inside and out. She’s dedicated and loving towards her family and friends. It was a joy getting to know her and I am sure that we’ll be in each others lives for many years to come. We laughed our hearts out and shared stories about the past, trying to grasp the layers of who we’ve been and who we are. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect in so many ways. Not only was this weekend the celebration of Canadian Thanksgiving but Jess had recently made a huge decision that I could relate to more than anyone she knew. She wasn’t really happy studying Irish in school. Although she has a passion for the language, she was forced to take classes she wasn’t interested in alongside her major and it wasn’t how she wanted to pursue it nor was that her number one dream. What she really wanted to do was become a P.E Teacher due to her love of the athletics. So, after many nights of deliberation, she decided to de-register from the program and is now working out her next steps. I’m so proud that she chose to listen to herself and create goals in order to achieve what she truly wants to do with her life. We had some great discussion about it and I assured her that everything was going to be better than okay. It was going to be great. She’s got some perfect goals ahead of her and is taking on just the right attitude to make her dreams come true. I’m thankful that we were able to be together just days before she walked into that office and made it official. I know that I would have loved just the same kind of example during my times of uncertainty. Go at it with all your heart my girl. I know you’ll make it happen. 

The next day was spent driving around the County and seeing what it had to offer. Tomas, Jess and I piled into the car and set off for a little tour of their homeland. On our first stop, we wandered into a field called Bohermeen Bog where you could find something called turf. It’s a very common substance used as kindle for the fire and is exactly what has kept me warm over the past few nights. As a fun fact that you’d probably rather not hear…occasionally a dead body is found in a bog dating hundreds of years back. They call them bog bodies and some are displayed at the National Museum in Dublin. An interesting thought but if you saw the photos I’m certain you would be disgusted. Sorry I don’t have any of those to show you…

 

The Spire of Lloyd is a mock lighthouse created in memory of the first Earl of Bective Sir Thomas Taylor and was my first real taste of the Ireland scenery I had imagined all this time. As we walked up the hill and looked out over the fields, I could feel that spirit Ireland often holds sweep over me. The tower stood with its spiral staircase and wooden door proudly beside me and a few dogs ran up and down the green slope. I was anxious to continue through the back roads and see more history and landscape like the sights that stood before me. It always amazes me how these castles and landmarks were once built by hand long before the release of technology, machinery and architectural advancements. What a story they all seem to hold. 

 On the way to my favourite stop, we pulled over to look at the High Cross of Kells and Slane Castle which holds an event known as Slane Concert featuring artists such as David Bowie, Bob Dylan, Queen and The Rolling Stones. The Conyngham family have lived there for centuries but it’s still frequently used to host concerts and events. On this particular day, they were holding an auction (hence the cars obstructing the view) and we had to hoist ourselves onto a ledge and peak over the fence in order to see it. All very secretive and completely worth it. These castles never cease to amaze and capture me. 

 

 

The Hill of Tara was our next destination, a place I had been highly recommended by several locals and had heard plenty about through talk of Ireland’s greatest attractions. I didn’t realize quite how large this was going to be. I guess I just expected a single hill instead of a whole field. I couldn’t believe this was an open and free space that the public could take advantage of whenever they pleased. We arrived just as the sun was setting slightly over the town. Jess told me that her friends like to have picnics around here in the summer. There were kids and their families with dogs and others who were just out for a stroll and some thought. I could imagine myself lying with a good book in hand, sitting in a space like this. You could see for miles in every direction and there was no way you could miss a very special tree that stood on the hill proudly. This tree was covered in memories and special keepsakes from thousands of visitors. It was yet another place for offering and release to go along with the many I’d come across already. A lot of children leave their childhood soothers there to symbolize a new step. I didn’t have anything to leave which was fine by me. I had done what I needed in that department. I just enjoyed looking at what everyone else had thought special enough to tie to the tree’s branches. It was really something else from afar. A real sight to see and full of stories. I wanted more than anything to bring certain people back to this hill so we could sit and talk and enjoy the open space together. I know so many who would love it just as much as I did. Before driving back, we made a surprise stop at Bective Abbey, an old but charismatic Cistercian Abbey that held scenes from the movie Braveheart. The three of us ran from the car and spent a quick time exploring the inside that was open freely to anyone that wanted to spend time there. That being said, there wasn’t much of an inside at all. The walls were crumbled in several places and the staircases had deteriorated. I personally felt like that was what gave the Abbey its charm. We hopped up on the various levels and poked our heads through the windows until it was time to head back to the humble abode. 

 When we arrived home, Judy had a huge dinner all prepared and ready for us as we walked in. I was overwhelmed with how generous they had been already and this was more than I could ever ask for. In honour of Canadian Thanksgiving, we had on our table mashed potatoes, croquettes, yorkshire pudding, chicken, homemade stuffing that was truly to die for, vegetables and gravy. A beautiful meal with all the fixings. It was absolutely delicious and even more enjoyable sharing it with such a remarkable family. I had been wondering how I would be spending that day and had hoped I could find a place where I felt surrounded by love and good company. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be sitting at a table in an Irish home with all that and more.

 

 

Saying goodbye to this bunch was difficult. They welcomed me in like I had been a part of their family for years. The only thing that helped me walk away without aching deeply was my certainty of returning here very, very soon. I know that their doors are open for me and I will always have family in Ireland. Thank you for being angels on Earth and I’m so lucky we crossed paths. 

Dublin didn’t even need to try to win me over. When I stepped off the bus at Trinity College the connection with this city hit me like a speeding freight train. I noticed right away what made it appealing and different from any other city I had been in. There is a very distinct culture that lingers in every shop, street corner and little cafe. It seems so deeply rooted in the art of being comfortable, healthy, down to earth and happy. I stayed in a hostel right beside the famous Temple Bar. This area is flocked to by not just young travellers looking to drink Guinness but the locals as well. When the sun goes down, this part of the city is given breath and life. Every second shop is vintage and you can be sure to find “Whisky in the Jar” being played on a different instrument in each classic pub. I felt at home walking these streets, almost like I already lived there to be honest. After a long day of travel, I took it easy and decided to explore the town. The smiling lady at the tourist office greeted me with a “what can I do for yeah love” and I nearly jumped over the counter to give her a huge hug. These were my people.  Just like I knew they would be. The friendly Irish stereotype was entirely real. She kindly circled all the key squares and streets on my map and I was off.

It was strange being alone to tell you the truth. I had just spent such a long time being surrounded by people and almost forgot what it felt like to navigate my way around a new country by myself. I’ve been getting pretty good at using these big maps (which are usually mangled and ripped in half by the time I’m done with them). Luckily, Dame street ran right through the centre as a clear landmark. Most of my evening was spent peeking into shops and drinking tea in Temple Bar. I was so content on those cobblestone roads. The sound of live music and passion filled the streets with warmth. Warmth was something I needed…did I mention a whole season had come and gone? I know, I barely noticed it myself. Dressedin my sandals, kapri’s and a tank top, I clearly wasn’t prepared for the bone cold Autumn weather that had thrown itself on the Earth.  I ignored it as long as I could until I ducked into a little fish and chip shop to eat. Man did they ever know how to make a mean meal. As I waddled out (yes, waddled), I noticed a cute little coffee shop down the street that read “Brick Cafe”. The man working at the counter was the happiest barista I had ever seen and taught me how to mix Turkish Apple and Peppermint tea to create the perfect combination of cozy with a refreshing twist. I’ve since been in eight times. Leave it to me to become a regular in a Dublin cafe after only four days in the city. I was up bright and early Tuesday morning with many plans. There’s so much you can do in Dublin but only select attractions really interested me. The best thing about this city is there is plenty you can see and experience without a tour. There are a ton of famous streets, buildings and homes of iconic writers. Just walking down Grafton street made me feel like I was a part of something important. I think Ireland is a country that needs to be experienced in a local way. I didn’t feel like I needed to visit every museum to get a true impression. Actually, I was the most excited to visit the famous Grafton stretch. A movie that speaks to me in such an exceptional way is called Once. I’ve talked about it and shared it millions of times so if you know me, you’re aware of my deep love for this film. This entire musical film takes place in Dublin and a lot of the main busking scenes are performed on Grafton. Walking down this street had me smiling like a love sick puppy with my tongue hanging out and it wasn’t just my inner fangirl freaking, I was in awe of this entire atmosphere. The vibe of that street was out of this world. The most amazing musicians played every two steps you took and all the sounds they made mixed together into an addictive melody themselves. Everyone seemed happy to be there. I certainly was. I stood where Glen Hansard poured out his soul singing “Say it to me Now” at the top of his lungs. I ate a berry tart from Brewleys and took a stroll through Stephens Green. All very simple things but oh so pleasurable. I ended up taking my own Once walking tour since I’m shocked they don’t have an official one in place. I wandered around inside Walton’s Music Store where the two actors played Falling Slowly and sipped a hot tea in Simon’s Cafe in the exact window seat they sat. Maybe it doesn’t seem as grand to anyone else but for me, it was a dream come true. 

The opening scene of Once with Glen HansardGrafton Street, Dublin

St. Stephens Green 

The Guinness Storehouse couldn’t be missed. I took a local bus down to the famous Thomas street, one of the oldest in Dublin and explored the unique people and markets before heading in for a tour. Each person is lead through a mock brewery and shown through photos, videos and big white phrases written on the walls how the beer is created and the story of Arthur Guinness. They treat “the black stuff” like God and don’t let you forget its significance in Irish culture. It was a really cool experience seeing how this beer I had in my hand 90 per cent of my time there was made and produced. I met a great girl  named Sarah there from Vancouver who kept me company through the walk. Towards the end, we were able to pour our own pint and received a certificate when we achieved the perfect pour. I keep saying I’m going to place it right next to the certificate saying I walked across a country…which one I’m more proud of, I couldn’t tell ya.

There’s a beautiful one woman show I’ve been blessed to see called Myra’s Story by Brian Foster. The plot features a witty and eccentric homeless woman from Dublin, Ireland as she so soulfully tells the story of how she found herself on the street, bottle in hand. The role of Myra was originated by Carmel McCafferty. I had the pleasure of seeing this role performed to its fullest so beautifully by Jennifer Cornish and this production has taken off successfully, winning awards and traveling from my community of K-W to the London Fringe and beyond. I remember sitting front row during one of the early performances and even sitting in a rehearsal where Jen began mastering Myra. I was moved by the way it dug beneath the surface view of somebody living on the street and showed in such a raw and real way that they all have a story to tell and a wicked journey behind and ahead of them. A lot of the time, they need love more than anything else. There’s often a stigma behind the homeless. We’re so quick to judge a book by its cover. I was so inspired by Jen’s flawless interpretation of the role and the ride that it took me on that I wanted to dig behind the surface too. The story had touched me. I wanted to open up the minds of others to a new point of view with my writing and photography. 

I wished the same for him and made sure he had what he needed for bus fare. Just keep him in your thoughts. He’ll most definitely be in mine. I plan to continue to uncover the stories behind people like Keith more and more as I travel through this country. 

 The people of Ireland didn’t stop showing themselves in the most unexpected ways. Neil was sitting at his tiny desk in the George’s Street Arcade concentrating on a very detailed drawing of a tree. He was surrounded by sketches and photographs. I told him that his drawing was phenomenal and he said to me, “Oh this? Just a doodle. Something to keep my brain going on a Tuesday.” If you had seen this drawing you would have gawked at his modesty. I looked over at the framed sketches. “Oh those aren’t mine”, he said. “I take the photographs over there.” His photos expressed the exact style I have been striving for. He captured the candid moments of human interaction so perfectly and put such a unique spin on what the city had to offer. Even with his photographs he was still a modest man and shrugged off most of my praise as I flipped through each of the matted prints. I was shocked to hear that all of these were taken with an old film camera. He was very much against the modern digital world and refused to even create a website for his work. He thought that the images on a digital camera were too crisp and had him focusing on the wrinkles in a ladies dress rather than the picture as a whole. “If you’re on a photographers website and you see one image that you don’t like, what do you do? You click away. You don’t really get a chance to know their work that way.” Neil then pulled out his well loved camera and showed me a special, rubber device that he created in order to produce a unique blur technique in some of his photos. You could tell that he really saw people through a different light than the rest of us and captured moments in time that were so full of life and colour. I was inspired by his work. He so kindly told me I could pick out my favourite print to take home free of charge and he even wrote a few key must-see’s in Ireland on the back of it. I was so lucky that he took the time out of his day for a chat about something we both love.

I spent one of my days taking a tour of Trinity College which is a classic landmark in Dublin and holds the Book of Kells as well as a monumental library. The Library is what I went to see but the tour (which was only a euro extra) taught me some interesting facts about its growth and development over the years. Plus, the tour guide was hot and you can’t get enough of those Irish accents, am I right ladies? I payed a visit to the New York Library last April and was blown away by its size, elegance and grandeur. I was sure that would be the most stunning library I would ever lay eyes on. This one took the cake. My favourite part was the smell of old and musty books that blew toward me as I entered the doorway. The gorgeous wood kept the tattered books safe within their shelves and created a curved ceiling way up above. Original music scores from composers and copies of novels from late authors sat in little glass cases lining the walkway. I stayed in there for as long as I could just studying every inch of the place and going wild with my camera. There was nothing like it. How lucky these students were to have such a piece of history right in the middle of an even bigger piece of history beyond that.

Each morning I awoke and tried out a new pub’s Irish Breakfast. The full Irish is where it’s at! I couldn’t even tell you which one was better because they all had their flare. Pair that with a Bailey’s coffee and my mornings were sweet. On Wednesday I got a chance to see Olivia who is a friend of mine from home. We met through Theatre and ended up attending Windsor together. She’s now Aupairing for a family in Leixlip and took a train to see me in Dublin. It was so nice seeing a familiar face and meeting these adorable little boys she had the pleasure of looking after. We all shared coffee and dessert while Finn, the older of the two, was eagerly wanting to snap pictures of his own with my camera. I loved hearing about her Irish experience and sharing a bit about mine. A friend from home was just what I needed as the three month mark slipped on by. 

 

Thanksgiving has always been one of my favourite celebrations of the year. I get a tingle in my heart being surrounded by family on any occasion but there’s something special about gathering together in the spirit of thankfulness for all that you have and gratefulness for one another. Every moment I experience in life, I know I am privileged to be a part of. There are countless moments where I close my eyes and say to myself, “Remember this. You are so lucky to be here.” It’s moments like those where I smile and know that I live a life that I have every reason to feel exceptionally blessed about. As I sit here and write this post at Simon’s Cafe in the George’s Street Arcade in Dublin, Ireland, those words are on repeat.

The thought of my anticipated last moment walking the Camino has been lingering in my mind since day one. Naturally, we all looked ahead now and again when we realized what we were traveling towards. Or better put, what we thought we were traveling towards. In the beginning, it was just a cathedral in our minds. A historic building that has been walked upon by pilgrims for centuries. As we developed friendships and experienced breakthroughs, it became a new beginning. The end of the Camino de Santiago began representing a lot more than any of us believed from the start. Still, the questions circled. Who would we be linking arms with as we took those final steps? What thoughts would be repeating in our brains? Would the moment live up to all we had dreamed? None of these could truly be answered nor should they. I wanted to keep all those doors wide open for possibility. Having expectations never seemed like the way to go.

 The evening before the last 15km was just as exciting as the night before Christmas has ever been. I found myself lying awake far longer than I should with the early morning rise ahead. It all seemed to have sped up over the last few days. I can’t explain how time works when you’re walking for weeks on end. The moments are savoured with more depth and you don’t have the real world to distract you. Things seem to pass by slower in a beautiful way, in a way life should be lived. Every week had me feeling like I had been walking for years.  Looking back on it now, I couldn’t tell you where the time went. Didn’t I take my first steps only yesterday? My very first early morning steps of this incredible Way

Always follow your own path.It’s easy to get caught up in the desires of others. When you’ve spent so long around a group of people, you begin to sway yourself in the direction of what they want to do and forget that this is your journey and no one else’s. Thinking back to my very first day, I remembered somebody telling me, “it’s not your Camino if you follow somebody else’s rules.” Up until then, it hadn’t hindered me. I walked at my own pace and we all happened to match up. Suddenly I was placed at a crossroad and the tables had turned. The mass honouring the pilgrims, the swinging of the Botafumeiro…those were all important to me and I was so close to sacrificing my final moments to do what I was comfortable with and lead out the ending I counted on. I don’t know where the initial instinct came from but I was glad that the attitude I know I normally embody took over. This was going to be a special moment no matter who I was walking it with. These three girls were just as excited as I was to be reaching the end. The moment was going to be mine regardless of the circumstances. Looking back years, days or weeks from now, I knew I would feel wonderful about making that decision. Camino, you never fail to provide insight at just the right moment.

 

For some reason, I was gung-ho on getting a photo of me jumping outside of the cathedral. I don’t know how I mustered up enough energy to jump several times in order to get the shot but as I took the first leap, something really amazing happened. Nicola had given me a bracelet during one of my down days. It was a series of amethyst stones that were said to represent a cleansing of the aura and become a bringer of new energy. As I jumped high, the bracelet flew off my wrist and sailed across the square, shattering into a million pieces. Perhaps I’m digging into it too deeply but it was as if I didn’t need them anymore. My energy had been restored, my spirits lifted and my aura cleansed. I felt free and completely at peace. It was unforgettable and almost indescribable, that feeling. It will sit with me as a constant reminder for years to come.

 

 

We each took our time alone and headed as far to the edge of the cliff as possible. I discovered an empty patch at the bottom of a very rocky hill and made my way down with careful steps. Buried amongst the rocks I could see the articles of clothing, shoes and sentimental items that others had left here over the years. Some of them had letters attached in small, plastic bags and a few had burnt to charcoal following the symbolic tradition. It reminded me of Cruce de Ferro in so many ways as a place of love and release at the true end of the journey.  I noticed a man standing at the edge of the cliff, his hair blowing in the wind and deep in thought. I wondered what he was thinking just then and if he had found what he was looking for. When I reached the edge, I too stared out onto the horizon that was barely visible in the distance. It looked like someone had smudged the skies line into the pale ocean.

My Camino adventure was over but the real journey…that’s just beginning.

I stand atop of a hill full of burdens, the wind gently grazing across my cheek and the whole world silent. The rocks that surround my feet symbolize many things. They stand for freedom, peace, bravery, new beginnings, a loved one who sits in the heart of the person who’s placed it there. Traditionally, the stones that are set upon Cruce de Ferro are ones which a pilgrim has carried from the very beginning of their journey. They’re being carried for those who aren’t able to be there themselves and when placed on the hill they are told to send alms to those that you care about. They send the energy of a healthy well being. Others are used to let go of a burden and clear the mind. I clutched onto both of my stones with the utmost care. One of them was absolutely covered in letters. I spent a great deal of time thinking about the people in my life who are extra special to me and those who have shaped who I am today. I carefully wrote the first letter of their name on the stone and thankfulness swept over me as I realized that it was now covered from front to back. I couldn’t have felt more loved. 

I looked around me and studied how each stone was different and unique. Some were hand painted while others sat bare but still full of thoughts and memories. The iron cross stood proudly in the middle and was covered in notes, letters and photographs from top to bottom. One was an envelope titled Please drop this letter closest to God. Some were titled simply Mom. I suddenly became a lot more emotional than I anticipated but knowing myself, I guess it was expected. What brought the tears rolling down my cheeks was the fact that through everything that goes on in this world, through all the chaos and disaster, things like this exist. Places like this that are dedicated to so much beauty, love and release stand in the middle of nowhere and never move.

 

It felt like hours had passed as I held my stone tightly between my fingers. When I finally felt like I was able to let it go, I placed it carefully amongst the others and released a breath as I walked down to meet my friends. I felt that feeling of freedom again. It traveled through my entire body in waves. Kate and I decided to take one more trip to the top and let out a howl to celebrate. The moment was everything I imagined it to be and more. 

 

The last of the Meseta trickled off gradually last week and the gang and I found ourselves in a small little town just before our halfway point. When we walked into the albergue, a glowing woman welcomed us with a sense of calmness very similar to Mau from the Hospital for the Soul. She told us to head to the back, take off our shoes and relax. She knew first hand what it felt like walking this stretch because she had traveled the Camino three times! As soon as she told us she offered foot massages for donation, I knew we had found heaven. Her name is Judit and what I was surprised to discover was she seemed to know a great deal about joints and muscles. She was able to tell me exactly what I should be changing about my walking habits in order to fix my problems. Not only was she knowledgable in the health of the body but she was also incredibly in touch with the mind. Everything that came out of her mouth was spoken with peace, grace and wisdom. I relaxed just being around her as she told me what she did back home in Germany. I knew she reminded me of Mau for a reason. Judit runs a space from her home where she provides help to others in all different forms. She provides psychological advice, physiotherapy for injured pilgrims walking through the country, a place to sleep and cook and a shoulder to cry on. During the summer months, she works here in this village giving back to the path that shaped her life. Without having said a word she told me, “you must stop worrying about keeping the pace of others. I know you want to stay with the people you love but go your own speed and you’ll find them again. The Camino will bring them back to you.” A moment or two passed by before she added, “I know that you’re meant to do something that allows you to be creative. You aren’t meant to live a 9-5 life. This life is too short to do anything that doesn’t make you happy.” I’ve known this for quite some time but the fact that she was able to read that after we’d hardly spoken blew me away.  That was the moment I told her about my photography and asked if I could capture her. It’s funny because even the calmest people seem to become flustered at the though of being photographed. Her essence was difficult to get across but she relaxed after I engaged her in conversation. She performed some wildly effective reiki energy on my ankle before we parted and I got the feeling that she held a gift of truly seeing people that not a lot of us have. I felt very lucky to have met her. I know now that if I ever need a place to stay in Germany, her door is always open.

 

It’s as if Judit knew deep down that I would be faced with a new challenge. Recently, I’ve been separated from the group that I’ve become so close to since the third day walking. I’m not sure what drove me to walk 40km one morning but my legs continued to take me through every little town because none of them seemed to feel right. I was hoping to branch out and meet some new people who I may have been missing out on while walking with others. I wanted to take a bit of a leap outside of my comfort zone and see what it brought me. I would never, ever suggest walking 40km in 32 degree heat to anyone! I was thankful that the scenery was enough to keep me sane because I had hardly seen a soul while walking that day. Nicola had decided to stay in a bigger town called Villafranca and to be honest, the fact that I knew there was a familiar face waiting there helped to keep me going. As I dragged my legs up to the city about 8km from my final destination, I spotted two girls named Tara and Tara-Lynn who I had met close to the beginning of my journey and hadn’t seen since. I couldn’t have been more grateful to see people I knew! I practically fell into their arms the second I walked over to them. They happened to be going to the same place and we agreed to walk together and boost each others spirits. 

 A lot of this trail took us through a vineyard and as we approached it, something magical happened. We heard music. At first it was faint and low but as we walked up the hill, it became louder and louder and we had no idea where the sound was coming from. I didn’t realize quite how much music lifts a spirit and brightens a mindset. I found my tired self skipping, yes, skipping down the hill to The Cure. We were blessed by a gift and without it, I wouldn’t have made that last 5km. Thank you, thank you to the soul who gave us the vineyard soundtrack. 

 The vibe of the Camino seemed to change after Nicola and I were just a pair. I was thankful for her company. The time alone was pleasant but lonely. I had spent far too much time focusing on how different things were instead of the beauty that the change brought me. Little moments presented themselves throughout my days. While walking through the middle of absolute nowhere, I came across a cantina that was formed from a run down, old brick building. The walls were covered in writing and quotations from pilgrims who had sat down to rest over the years. I stopped to lounge in an inviting hammock and paused dead in my tracks as I noticed a piece of paper pinned up on the wall. I recognized the names on the torn out page right away. Pages 56 and 57 of Waiting for Godot hung by a pink paper clip. As I read the passage, I noticed how perfectly it fit the spirit of the Camino and how it described the exact situation that had just occurred in my own life. It was a sense of magic and oasis in the desert. I was beginning to think I had a guardian angel on my side. 

 

Vladimir: Your boots, what are you doing with your boots?

 

Estragon: I’m leaving them there. Another will come, just as…as me, but with smaller feet, and they’ll make him happy. 

 

Just steps away from there, a man strummed his guitar to a catchy Spanish tune and added in words that worked with each passerby. He sang to me, “the pilgrim is walking to Santiago with her camera!” It was fitting and a much needed giggle! A town away from that, a woman handed Nicola and I a whole bag full of churro’s (deep fried sticks of dough) free of charge because the shop was closing in a few minutes. The cafe was called Sonrisas which means Smiles in Spanish and you better believe we had big grins on our faces after that one! 

 A week or two into my walk, I met a radiant woman named Michelle. I had heard plenty about her from Nicola who had spent time with her toward the beginning and she was someone I was hoping we’d catch up to. Michelle is from Vancouver so we immediately had something to bond over. That and the Dan Mangan blasting from her iPhone. I knew her as the stunt woman before I truly got a chance to know who she was. She has performed some incredible stunts in films and has been in that industry for years and years of her life. It fascinated me at first, thinking about the thrill of a career like that. I didn’t really get to know Michelle until we met for a third time in Astorga and I asked to take her photo. I learned that from a young age she practiced baton twirling and was up to become the best in the world. The hours she practiced and perfected became the center of her life through her teenage years. The baton lead into dancing which lead her to the circus. There she discovered a natural ability to handle knives which had her thinking about stunt work more and more. The stunts took her body through a turbulence and there was a moment where she decided she didn’t want to put herself through the pain and fear any longer. She knew that her path was meant to head elsewhere and the destination was to be determined. That is how the Camino came into her life and while we deluged deeper into conversation I could hear the direction she had already found. It was in her voice and in her eyes. She’s discovered that she’s a teacher at heart with all the qualities to guide others in the right direction. She wants to be a creator of her own success in the artistic world. Recently her knee has caused her some troubles and Her Camino has involved a few bus rides. A part of her wondered if this would seem like a moment of failure to her friends and family back home. Being an athlete puts that imagine in the mind of others that something like a walking trail would be a piece of cake to complete. What I loved the most was her approach to the obstacles. Yes, she was injured but it taught her that your body is not invincible. It has limits and maybe, just maybe Her Camino was meant to involve a bus or two. Perhaps that’s guiding her to the right place and teaching her again that her path needs to head in a different direction. The fact is, she’s getting to Santiago one way or another and I am inspired by her determination and strength through it all. It’s a gift to be able to take even the most difficult moments and accept that the world wants to show you something far different than you planned. Michelle, I know you’ll find your way because you’re keeping your head held high and moving forward. She has one of the best grips on her experience that I’ve seen so far and it’s only going to lead her to beautiful things. You’ve already taught me lessons I’ll hold on to. 

 It took one final moment to realize that things had blessed me all the same despite this new Camino feel. There was a fairly steep mountain ahead a few days ago and I prepared myself to walk up the entire thing on foot. Nicola and I passed by signs advertising a way to reach the top by horseback. We didn’t hesitate to call and book two spots for the next morning! I hadn’t ridden a horse since I was a little kid and unfortunately none of the skills came back to me. The good news is, I felt like I really bonded with my beauty Viagita (translating into Old Fashioned) and after a terrifying first trot I adjusted pretty quickly to her ways. She was a slow one and we often trailed behind but she did her best to keep up and together we rode up and through the stunning mountains. The view was incredible. A man yelled out to me, “the Camino sure is different from up here!” He was absolutely right. It was an entirely different experience and I wouldn’t have done it any other way. I sat there awestruck by the rolling hills that seemed to stretch forever into the mist and the dinging of sheep bells in the distance. I thought back right then to the morning I left the path alone and was invited to sit at a campfire with two pilgrims and enjoy a tea with the sunrise. I remembered watching the sunset in a grassy patch that night and feeling entirely clear after my day laying down my stone. Moments of magic had shown themselves in my time of need and a man in Villafranca had cleared my worried mind by making me a special bed to sleep in when there was “no room at the inn.” Judit was right, the Camino will bring my friends back to me. We’ll all walk to Santiago hand in hand in the end.  Until then, special moments and acts of kindness appear again and again. I’ve spent so much time missing the vibe from the beginning of my journey when what I should be looking at is how it’s continued to show itself in new and different ways.

 

I sit now about 100km from my final destination in a city called Sarria. I have some big days ahead of me but I’m determined to keep open for each and every one of them. After all, I’ve found the mountains again and they continue to surround me every step of the way. There’s always a silver lining and the spirit of the Camino, well, it hasn’t gone anywhere. 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I  have promises to keep

And miles to go before I sleep, 

 It’s been said that the Camino consists of three separate stages. The first stage focuses on the physical aspect of the walk. It breaks you down and shows your body that it’s capable of far more than the standards you’ve set for yourself. The next stage is mental and although I beg to differ that it only begins on the 12th day, once your body accepts its fate your mind begins to do the same. While faced with walks alone and the meditative sound of your own footsteps, it runs wild and free and thoughts come out of the woodwork. Growth always follows and the moment you think you’ve already found exactly what you’re looking for, it throws you a curve ball. The last stage is spiritual. Whatever you feel spirituality is for you, it will fill your mind through until your last steps into Santiago and onto Finisterre. Having walked halfway across the country now, I should be into the mental stage of the game but like I said before, it strikes you from the moment you walk through the Pyrenees. Just keep following those yellow arrows.

 Our days following consisted of gorgeous landscapes just the same and sleepy little towns that hardly seemed real. My body has reached that point where it’s accepted that this is how it’s going to be until October hits. It’s finally seemed to surrender. Apart from the fact that I’ve rolled over my ankle about seven times and the arches of my feet are close to collapsing, I feel thankful. I am lucky that this is the extent of my injured body. Not a blister in sight and my knees are still in working condition! It could be heaps worse. It’s funny because our days have become longer and longer and the distances that seemed daunting are now considered easy. They’re baby days. After two days back to back of 36km each, 20km is a piece of cake to any of us. Doesn’t that seem hard to believe? Our sleep in mornings consist of a 6:45am wake up and 20km is a short and simple morning stroll. Who knew I would ever catch myself saying that! It’s true though. Like a lovely friend wrote to me the other day, I guess we can get used to anything. 

While heading through a town called Viana, we had no choice but to leave our friend Gustavo behind. I knew we would eventually begin to walk at different paces and the moment would come. A common phrase we like to use as encouragement during the low moments is: “the camino will provide.” It always does. Somehow the Camino has a way of giving us and showing us everything we need. It proved itself once again only a short day after we left Gustavo behind. Nicola became a huge presence very quickly and her wisdom and light has followed us all the days since. I became enthralled by her love for meditation and have vowed since to make it a huge part of my day to day life. The more we walk together, the more I seemed to learn about myself. Her experience and advice act as my guide toward a new perspective and has been the driving force toward happy and exhilarating breakthroughs. I am blessed that she sauntered up to Jale and I that afternoon only last week…

Every day we get up and walk. It’s the only goal we have in mind. Our time is measured in kilometres, towns and the nearest bar. At this point, it’s a pleasant surprise when we run into a group that has been behind or ahead for a few days. We’ve all discovered what our legs are capable of and walk only what we can handle. The nights finish with drinking and a three course meal. You would think that we would tire from the routine but as much as every day is the same, it’s also drastically different. The actions are all similar but the way we experience each home stretch or meal always changes. They’re filled with different thoughts and sources of laughter each time. If we’re lucky, some of the albergues have a kitchen and we’re able to cook which is a slice of heaven when it seems like ages since I’ve created something out of food! A friend Matt and I deemed ourselves chefs and made a gorgeous meal for the lot of us one night. It doesn’t take much to make us happy, really. A home cooked meal and good company is the definition of content. Running barefoot through the streets of Spain in the pouring rain will stay in my memory forever. Those moments where I’m lying with friends writing in my journal, drinking wine from the bottle and giggling on my back as the sun goes down…they are the simple things that keep becoming more and more satisfying each day. For once, you’re only focused on what you truly need for your body, your health and most importantly for your well being. There’s no excuse letting either of those go unnoticed. New friends. Beautiful people
I’ve found the sunflowers again. Fields and fields of them every day. I think the Universe has decided to apologize for making me walk so far to find them in Florence.

 

I couldn’t stop thanking him for providing this space. I know in my heart that it’s affected people in the exact way it affected me and the world certainly needs more people like Mau and Nia. 

In a fast pace universe amidst the rocks and trees of North Western Spain, I walk in a peaceful and untouched part of the world. I walk with a community that never fails to protect, guide and support me with every step taken. I walk with grace and an extra bounce during those golden hours and broken arches during those moments where it feels almost impossible to continue up that last hill. I hear the words of encouragement behind me,

 “we are strong, we are brave and we are healthy”

 It makes me feel grateful to hear it coming from new friends but most of all, it brings me to a grand realization. As I look out over the vineyards and rolling hills, I think to myself:

There is so much more in this world to appreciate than to complain about. 

 

To go through each and every person that has given me direction and wisdom on this journey would be near impossible. I knew going into this that everyone would have a story. I was sure that I would be walking alone but never really feel alone at all. All of these things proved to be true. What I didn’t expect was the overwhelming sense of selflessness from each and every pilgrim I’ve encountered. Their generosity baffles me. There could be an injury or a hungry traveler and seven people would hand out bandaids and granola bars. It’s happened to me and I’ve seen it happen to everyone else too. We all look out for each other. It’s the people you start with that you tend to stick with through each albergue and trail but it always surprises me who seems to come out of the woodwork when you’ve been walking on the same path for days.

Our first day was known to be the worst and as stated in the hundreds of books about the Camino, it was the most strenuous of them all. This 27km day took us up and over the Pyrenees. It felt like 34km if you calculated the steep incline. The funniest part is, this wasn’t my hardest day. In fact, I’ve almost wished to be hiking over the Pyrenees again through a few days recently. I was more than ready to walk on that first day and take on everything it threw at me.

I arrived in St. Jean Pied de Port last Thursday and was exhausted by the time the bus stopped in the parking lot. The clan of us coming from Pamplona, backpacks and all huddled together and shuffled along trying to locate the pilgrim office as best as possible.  This town was absolutely adorable and looked like something pulled straight from a fairy tale. Upon arriving at the office I was greeted by a smiling blonde lady sitting on the other side of a table. The table and the lady looked exactly like what I had imagined I would start with which was comforting. I took a seat and my special pilgrim passport was handed over along with a map and some general rules to follow while walking. I could barely sit still and was already thinking of getting started. Of course, no walking would be done that night but even the words 27km, uphill and no food for miles didn’t discourage me from our start tomorrow. With that same grin, the stamp came down with a thump and marked my clean passport with a beautiful symbol saying I had begun. It was monumental almost. My first stamp of the many I would be collecting over a 500 mile journey to Santiago.

It was the beginning of September and later in the evening which meant most albergues were full with no space to sleep. Every trip to a new city seems to get to me emotionally. It takes over without warning and before I know it, I realize I’ve left behind a place I was just beginning to get comfortable with. Mix that with the start of a spiritual journey where I’m supposed to be finding myself and you’ve got yourself a breakdown. The words “I don’t think I have enough space” after hearing it plenty of times before had finally hit me. Poor Sabine. The tears came out of nowhere and it certainly wasn’t her fault but she seemed to look guilty. Taking me under her wing, this empathetic owner gave me a bed in a room for two after some rearranging.  Bless her heart. My first taste of the people to come. It had been a lot to take in after a long day of travel and just as I was contemplating hitting the hay far earlier than expected, a young girl came walking into my room to take the empty bed beside mine. Sarah was the very first person I met on the Camino. She made me feel safe right away and my tears dried as soon as we started talking. She’s from Denmark and studying medicine. Neither of us had the clearest idea of why we were walking this pilgrimage. We both agreed that the question would be better asked when we reached the end.

The two of us took a long walk through this cute little village to find a super market but learned that things close quite early in a town that size. Lucky for us, we settled in at a restaurant that sold Moules de Frites. After all, we would only be in France until we crossed the boarder the next day so this one French meal was crucial. It was delicious and I couldn’t thank Sarah enough for the honest conversation we shared over the night. It was just what I needed to bring back that excitement for the big day ahead!

 

The mornings from then on each started around 5:30am. It’s impossible to sleep any later because everyone is raring to go bright and early. I was surprised at my ability to rise out of bed and feel incredibly rested and coherent! Imagine that. Mornings are now my favourite time of day. Who have I become?! It’s the goal of a new destination and determination that drives you to feel right as rain each and every days beginning. The thought of watching the sun rise over the hills always diminishes any unhappy feeling that the morning could bring. The air was cool and the sky dark as I took my very first steps in my trusty Keens. The golden sun rose quickly behind us and I stopped to look out over the scenery. It was even more breathtaking than I dreamed it to be. The rolling hills and farmers fields created a stunning landscape of colour and depth. We walked past fields of sheep, shepherds and majestic horses roaming about in the tall grass and planes. To this day we still pass by stunning views and it never gets tiring. It’s the one thing that can always keep us going without fail. A soft mist was flowing across the path and into the fields. You could see it travel along in a slow and mystical way. Some people were disappointed of the obstructed view because of it. I thought it was magical and different. It added such an amazing atmosphere. One of my stand out memories from this walk will be the sound of the sheep’s bells as they ding with each bite of grass. They echo through the trees and paired with the sound of our footsteps on the rocky path, nothing could be more simple. It’s a meditative sound that I know I’ll try with everything I have to bring back in my memory. 

 We lucked out big time with the weather. There was a perfect early morning breeze blowing through the trees as we walked and it stayed late into the day. At one point I was bundled up in all the warm clothing I had brought because the temperature toward the top of the hill was freezing for an hour or two. Let’s be honest though, those were the things you needed to focus on while climbing up, up, up this steep mountain. I’m talking a solid 80 degree angle at times I’m sure. They didn’t lie about it being difficult but thankfully I had enough new energy to last me the entire day.

It became obvious very quickly that I would always be able to find conversation and company. Moments alone are very important on a walk like this but it’s amazing how accessible a new connection can be on the Camino. I ran into couples, solo travellers, someone who grew up in Kitchener, mother and daughter duos and people well beyond my years passing me with big strides. Just because I’m young doesn’t mean the 60 year olds don’t wiz by me from time to time! We all come from very different parts of the world yet we’ve created this diverse and beautiful community as time has gone on. Each passing pilgrim greets you with a hello in their native language and a happy “bon Camino” or “buen Camino” as they bid you farewell. What’s even more beautiful is the buen Camino’s that come from the locals. People who aren’t even walking this trail themselves provide support and it makes you feel like you’re a part of something that is so deeply appreciated and important.

I was worried about getting lost but the trail is clearly marked with the scallop shell and those darn yellow arrows that tend to hide when you need them the most. Some towns even have shells on plaques in the ground or on the fence creating a guide to the next fork in the road. It’s such a supported adventure in these communities because in a way, we are such a huge supporter of them and their local businesses. 

 Sarah had long gone after about an hour of walking which was something I needed to get used to. The trick to getting as far as I’ve traveled is this: Go at your own pace. Know that this is not a race. Everyone you meet will come back into your Camino experience on their own time, it’s a given. Don’t worry about losing anyone, they’ll find their way to you. She mentioned something I had never thought of before I left. Can your mind even go for that long alone? How much could you possibly think about without human interaction for miles? The answer is a lot. More than you know. It’s been a challenge to turn it off at times and just think of nothing for a few minutes. It opens your mind to a whole bunch of new ideas and thoughts when you walk alone. You become entranced by the sound of your steps and develop such a rhythm that by the time you reach the next town, you think only minutes have past. Time is not a concept we have here. I don’t have any reason to know the date, month or time of day on this trek. It’s a very simple life we all lead and it will take a great amount of getting used to when I enter the big city again. 

Freshly picked blueberries from my day! Amazing!  

About three days in, an amazing group of five was formed. I met Kate and Michael on the second day and wanted to get to know them right away because of how interesting they both seemed to me. Kate is from New Zealand and Michael is from England. The two of them met in Greece at a dive shop and decided to do this hike together after just barely knowing each other. She is such a character and booming with personality. Michael is calm and happy which makes me feel the same when I’m with him. Gustavo is from Brazil and is such a generous and kind soul. Someone you just feel happy being around. Jale joined us on day four and is a definite soul sister. “Jolly. As in happy”, she told me. She lived up to her name. Jale was told by four different pilgrims that the two of us needed to meet because I was bound to be a perfect version of her younger self. The second we started talking I could already see our similarities. We shared an energy and a zest for life that clicked perfectly on every gruelling hill and long conversation into the hot sun. I’m fascinated by every single one of these people. Each of us brings something vital to the group and together our dynamic is the perfect blend to travel on such a walk. We know when alone time is needed. We respect the fact that sometimes we get separated but will always meet for a beer in the next town. It’s all smiles and laughs because what could we possibly be upset about? Every night we gather around for a pilgrim dinner. Each town offers a special that is normally three courses and no more than 11 Euros at most. The group of us and occasionally other pilgrim friends join and we drink red wine and enjoy a celebration toast for our days accomplishments. It’s become one of my favourite parts of each evening. I love sitting down with my temporary family and feeling completely happy and blessed that we’ve all crossed paths and can continue to travel on them together.

 The life changing moments that are such an outlined part of this experience happen slowly and carefully. You don’t notice them right away. It’s only when I’m writing down my thoughts or thinking back to the days events that I see the change in my mindset. It’s those moments when my brain goes wild walking alone that I can hear myself growing even more. When you walk up a hill titled “The Peak of Forgiveness”, it gives you a lot to think about. More than you expect pours out of you and traveling that length solo was cathartic release at its best. I’ve liked that although I’m traveling with a group of younger people, there are a lot of older adults on this trail that seem to have such a grand sense of wisdom about them. It’s those conversations that start with, “if I could go back and do it all again I would…” that I cherish the most and take to heart with all that I have. It’s amazing how much I’ve been directed with the way I want to approach my future career, my views on love and life and greeting the day. In areas where I didn’t think it was necessary to look, my mind would go and people would help me get there. It’s been refreshing to get all this advice from people who have been where I am and genuinely want to help guide me. Some of them have a very specific reason for walking and others tell me that’s what they’re looking for. I look forward to seeing them all every night. You begin to specify each person by their country and everyone looks out of place and different without a backpack on. Those things become a part of you. I loved photographing just a portion of who I’ve met so far because while clicking away, I got to know them on the level I love most. It was my goal to capture what it was about each person that made them unique to me which is so important when you’re meeting loads upon loads of them per day. Meet my pilgrim family! 

  Someone that stood out very brightly was a lady named Michele, her brother Michael and niece Brittany. Michele is a contemporary artist, photography being a strand of her work. When I saw she was carrying a video camera, I was curious about her project. Brittany is twenty three years old and autistic. She is non-verbal and is traveling this pilgrimage with her father and then later assistant while Michele creates a documentary every step of the way. Faith, Hope and Love, Brittany. This film will be used to raise awareness about Autism, give hope for Autism and focus on faith and breaking barriers. I was touched by this brilliant family and the realness that flooded out of their steps and spirit. They inspired me. Brittany inspired me and I am very excited to be a part of their journey. It has been a joy to get to know them all and I’m praying that our paths will cross for a longer period of time so I can continue to learn about their incredible story. Please follow along and support Brittany at http://www.faithhopelovebrittany.com 

 See, it’s people like that who you meet. Those who inspire. It’s the little things that you cherish and hope you will never take for granted again. A fellow Canadian made me a walking stick that has become a part of me. I was given half a sandwich by Carol when I didn’t pack enough food. A lady studying Chinese medicine sat me down on the side of the path and worked out the kinks in my back. Taking my shoes off is euphoric. I can’t even begin to describe the sense of love I feel. It surrounds me, engulfs me even and to think this will be reality until the end of the month. I never want to let go. 

Standing on top of The Peak of Forgiveness 

Nothing worth doing doesn’t come with a bit of struggle here and there. To make up for the lack of blisters I’ve received, I sprained the same ankle twice yesterday. I could hear the crack as I rolled over it while stepping into a nice pothole in town. We have a priest traveling in our pack. He’s very silent about it and is always smiling more than anyone I’ve seen. I heard he had been doing a few hand healings on injuries lately but I didn’t expect he would approach me. After one of “those days”, hot and endless, he saw me struggling and approached me to introduce himself. With little said he sat me down and placed his hand on my ankle where it hurt the most. I could feel him breathe in deeply and a current rushed through my foot. It was very distinct, I could feel it clearly. It was as if he was sucking the negative energy out and replacing it with what is pure and positive. It was over within seconds and he walked away smiling peacefully. You don’t need to believe me when I say I could move my ankle perfectly afterward. It was as if it had never been sprained in the first place. Call it what you will but all I know is that I walked perfectly today as if nothing had happened. A true Camino moment.

We’ve travelled close to 200km now and still have many more days to go. There are many ups and there have been several downs but with a bit of singing and solid company, each day is exciting and challenging. I wake up wanting to walk every morning.

Santiago de Compostela isn’t technically the end of our route. A lot of us are planning to head to what is known as the end of the world. Finisterre. It’s three more days of walking added onto the original path and takes you to the sea. There, you burn your walking clothes, take a dive into the sea and your journey is complete.It’s all or nothing!

One step at a time we’re all walk to the same place together.