I’ve now walked nearly 250 kms and I’m nearly 30% of the way to Santiago. It’s a good time for me to stop, rest, and reflect on the past 9 days.

I started off this blog with the opening line: “In April I will attempt to walk the Camino.” I didn’t say I would definitely walk it, or complete it, because I figured that was the wrong way to approach this. It would have shown an arrogance and lack of respect for The Way, as they call it. I had no idea, setting out, what obstacles would confront me. That’s why I said I’d attempt it.

I’d prepared meticulously. I’d done my research, I’d trained sufficiently, but I hadn’t over-trained. I’d walked with my backpack loaded, and my boots and socks, trying to simulate as much as possible what I would experience on the Camino. I had good aerobic fitness, I had good core strength, my boots were properly worn in, I had my backpack down to 8.8kgs. I thought I was prepared.

The fact is, nothing can properly prepare you for the Camino.

The Camino is many different things to many people. I’ve now met a lot of folk – some are doing it as a goal oriented exercise. They’ve done the Pacific Crest, or the Appalachain Trail, now they’re doing the Camino. Some seem fixated on getting to the end, and they rush by some extraordinary towns or villages. They don’t stop and visit the churches. Instead they get to the albergue early in the afternoon and they take pride in being the first to do their laundry, get the best bunk, and then they have a beer and watch the other pilgrims stumble in, while they plan the next day’s onslaught.

Others saunter along, have picnics, canoodle with their sweetheart or simply sit in the shade and take a breather, and you sense that they’re not really sure why they’re doing the walk.

Others have obviously very deep personal needs. Perhaps a loved one has died, or they are very sick, and whilst they engage with others on a superficial level, you sense that there is something much deeper going on underneath. I visit churches and I see one or two pilgrims sitting in the front pews, either contemplating or praying.

I am not a Catholic, and I’m not religious as such. On the last census I put down as my religion Buddhist, more because I figured they’ve had a hard time in Tibet and they needed statistical support.

However, I’m conscious that this is a pilgrimage. This isn’t the Appalachian Trail, or the Coast to Coast walk in Britain. This is an ancient pilgrimage route to a Cathedral where the bones of a Saint are supposedly buried. Each day, we walk along a route that Charlemagne and other great men and women of history have walked. We pass by monuments and churches that are over a thousand years old. Literally, millions of pilgrims have done this walk over the last 1400 years.

I believe there is a soul imprint along this route that is the sum residue of all those who have been before. You can feel the energy coming up from the ground. And that soul imprint asks you questions, every step of the way.

Who am I?

What am I doing here?

What matters?

The Camino is ruthlessly and sublimly reductive. It reduces everything down to elemental needs. Each day you walk. You walk sometimes on even steady paths, sometimes up impossibly steep hills, sometimes down rock strewn tracks that a goat would find difficult. You carry on your back everything you need to live. You walk long distances in the heat, the cold, the rain, and sometimes the snow.

This reduces down to: You need to eat and drink. At night you need shelter. You need to stay fit and healthy. And the next day, you need to walk again. And sometimes, the next day you need to rest.

What this reductive process does is it forces you to ask those soul imprint questions. At some point, you can’t avoid it. And it might be months later, after you’ve returned home, that these questions bubble up.

For me, I had a very strong need to do this Camino, and only now am I starting to understand why. But first, let me explain some of my beliefs: I believe we are comprised of three entities; our physical body, our emotional body, and our spiritual body.

It was my spiritual body that compelled me to do this Camino.

It’s been my emotional body that has caused me such pain.

And that pain has manifested in my physical body.

Okay – when I really asked myself what did I want from the Camino, before I left home, the answer came back: humility. I wanted to be humbled. And to learn what humility really is.

Believe me, I’m learning that.

You have to understand that I am intensely competitive, I am dogged and unrelenting in the pursuit of a goal, and I try to be a perfectionist. In saying that I try to be a perfectionist, that means that of course every day I’m disappointed, because perfection is both elusive and illusory. And also, sadly, I’m not a genius. I blame my parents for that.

That aside, every day, I’ve been in pain. Pain from my knee, then pain from my shin, now pain from my blister. And I have to ask myself, why have I brought this on? Why have I made this section of the Camino all about pain? Because I have brought it on myself. I’ve done this to learn some lessons about myself.

I am the kind of person who can push through pain. It becomes meaningless if there is a greater goal to be achieved. But on this Camino, I’ve come to realise that I have 570 kms to go if I want to get to Santiago, and pushing through pain just ain’t gonna work. I’ve got to be smarter than just using my willforce.

In other words, I have to change.

Yesterday I did 35kms. About 20kms in I passed through a small village, and there was a Farmacia open. Under other circumstances, I would have walked right past, doggedly determined to get to Santo Domingo. But yesterday I stopped. And I had to wait for about 20 minutes while an old bloke in front of me had 10 prescriptions filled. Again, under other circustances, I would have harrumphed and impatiently stormed out. But I waited. And finally I was served, and the two chemists treated my shin soreness. The last 15 kms were relatively pain free.

Now, that for me represented change. I know it sounds dumb – that of course I should have sought treatment – but normally I wouldn’t have.

Another thing happened yesterday. I got lost. It was dark, I missed a way marker, and I got well and truly lost in the dark. I finally made my way back, found what I thought was the right track, and headed off. But again, a few kms along and not having seen any of the arrows, I began to believe I was lost again. I’d seen a couple of the blokes from the previous night’s albergue heading down this path, but they’d disappeared. Then I saw them on another track, running parallel to mine.

I yelled out to them and they said that yes, they were on the right track. So I managed to cross over. They were now about a km ahead of me, and because of my injuries, I was going slow. But then they stopped for a break, and I began to approach. These were the blokes I’d been hanging out with, loosely, for the past couple of days.

As I got closer, within about 100m or so, they put their backpacks on and headed off. They didn’t wait for me.

I was upset. Why wouldn’t they wait, just for a minute or two? Even just to say hello? Did they think that because I was going slowly, that they might feel obligated to go at my pace? That I might slow them down?

I felt rejected. Which is stupid really because I didn’t need their companionship. I’ve been walking alone the whole time, and I love walking alone. But even so, I felt this was a personal snub.

So then of course I started to think about all the times I’ve been rejected in my life. I work in an industry where rejection is the norm. After 30 years in the film industry, believe me you know how to emotionally deal with rejection. Those that don’t become teachers.

But with the exhaustion, and the pain, I started to wonder – had I offended them in some way? Had I been too assertive, or not assertive enough? Did they simply not like me? And if so, then why?

And then I checked myself. My emotional body was controlling me. It was manipulating me. It was taking me into dark places. Unnecessary places. It was messing with me. The simple fact is that these blokes were the goal oriented type, and they wanted to get to Santo Domingo fast, and they didn’t want to wait a couple of minutes for a spurious conversation with someone they hardly knew.

It had nothing to do with a personal snub, or whether they liked me or not. It had nothing to do with rejection. That was where my emotional body took me. And that’s what the Camino does – sometimes in the most subtle of ways. It makes you ask questions of yourself.

I’ve always had a hard time dealing with rejection. What I do is personal – making films – and so a lack of critical or box office response can be deemed a personal rejection. You have to put in place very strong psychological scaffolding to prop yourself up sometimes. That’s ok. That’s the life I’ve chosen to live. But yesterday’s little episode brought it all back. The Camino had asked me a question – my emotional body had responded. I then had to put my emotional body back in its box. Or skin.

The other big question the Camino has put to me is this:

Why do I believe that anything worth achieving has to be a struggle?

I’ve brought on this daily pain to make the Camino a hardship. Why? I do truly believe that anything worth achieving has to be hard. I don’t believe that success comes easy. I’m suspicious of easy achievements. So this is what I’ve created for myself on the Camino. I’ve made it hurtful and hard for myself! Well done, Bill! Good work. When you limp into Santiago with permanent physical damage, won’t you feel great! Won’t ypu feel like you’ve actually achieved something!

What total crap.

This is a habit, and a way of thinking, that I have to change. And maybe that’s why I’m doing the Camino. To break that mindset that in fact has been limiting me all my life.

Why can’t worthwhile things come easy? Why can’t I have a pain free Camino? Why can’t this be a magnificent joyful experience?

You know what I did yesterday? I brought a big block of chocolate. I put it in my jacket pocket, and as I walked, whenever I felt miserable or sore, I had some. It was great. And today, having a rest day, I feel my energies recharging, the soreness leaving my body, and soon I’ll wander around this ancient town and tonight I’ll have a good meal, and I won’t in any way feel guilty for not continuing on today, or feel as though I’ve under-achieved.

Having a rest day isn’t only about giving your body a break. It’s also about reflecting on what you’ve learnt, or the questions the Camino has asked of you. That to me is the real benefit of taking time out. Because this is more than just a walk through Spain. This really is a spiritual journey. This is a journey that asks you to change your fundamental thought patterning. To break old well worn habits.

So tomorrow I’ll walk The Way again, and I’ll try and make it easy. Because why should it be hard?

Bill