I did a walk.

I didn’t know why I wanted to do the walk, but I did it.

It hurt.

I still hurts.

Three months later it still hurts.

And I want to do it again.

And still I don’t know why.

Each day I write about it. Each day I think about it.

I got a ring. I’m writing a book. I’m taking a tour.

What is it about the Camino?

If I’ve been missing in action on the blog, it’s because I’ve been working non-stop, ten hours a day, including weekends, since June 1st on this book.

What I thought would be a relatively easy write has turned out to be very demanding. I should be finished the final manuscript though at the end of this week.

Jennifer, a skilled script editor, is rigorous during this final editing/polishing process. She is my safety net. Thanks to her, I won’t look so much an ass when this book is released.

It will be published on Kindle, iBook, Nook etc first week of September. It is 72,000 words approx, and it will have two photos per chapter.

It’s called The Way, My Way. 

Here’s another excerpt – it’s when, because my pain was verging on intolerable, I checked into the Parador at Santo Domino. (The only time I had flash digs during my pilgrimage!)

The following day it rained heavily – the first day of solid rain since leaving St. Jean. Perfect timing really, because I was nicely ensconced in my Parador with my fluffy towels.

I went down to breakfast – a large sumptuous buffet catering to every guest’s preference: cold cuts of meat and cheese, eggs, cereals, fruit, yoghurt, breads and pastries of all kinds.

Why did I feel compelled to pocket some of these goodies for when I resumed my Camino? I thought. A few small rounds of cheese would fit nicely into my backpack. Oh, and that pear. A pear would be delicious for breakfast in two days time.

I noticed a hotel server looking at me suspiciously, and when she came over to my table to ask if I wanted coffee, she looked carefully at my room key. She was making sure I was in fact a hotel guest and not some miserable pilgrim who’d just stumbled in off the Camino to help himself to the buffet.

I then realised I looked out of place in the breakfast room.

Everyone else was nicely attired, and they were wearing shoes, not boots. Clean shoes, not muddy boots. And they had on expensive clothes and they looked groomed. As though fluffy towels were their norm, not a thing of joy and wonder.

I on the other hand looked like I’d just walked nearly 300kms.

I had on my pilgrim clothing of course, because I’d forgotten to pack a separate outfit for breakfasts in Paradors. I was also unshaven, unkempt, and I limped. And when I looked across at the buffet table, I sensed that the look contained the hollow-eyed desperation of a shipwreck survivor.

As I hobbled over to get seconds – hmmm, that Iberian ham looks like it could be yummy in two days time – I saw an elderly couple sitting at a nearby table, going through the Camino Michelin Guide.

They didn’t look like pilgrims. They were like the other clipped and coiffured tourists in the room, scattered amongst a smattering of suited-and-neck-tied businessmen.

But as I limped back to my table, barely able to hold my plate because it was so full of breakfasts from various countries, they stopped me.

Are you walking the Camino? the elderly lady asked sweetly.

How can you tell? I thought. The muddy boots? The Nike track pants? The dirty Goretex jacket? Or the limp?

Yes I am, I said politely.

Much as they seemed like a lovely couple, I didn’t really want to stand and talk. I’d piled the food high on my plate, like little Leaning Towers of Pisa, and I was embarrassed enough just being in the breakfast room – I didn’t want everyone staring at me when my pile of four mini croissants toppled to the floor.

So are we, the woman said, beaming.

She had an English accent, and she was dressed like she was about to meet the Queen. Her husband looked like he should be out hunting foxes with a pack of baying hounds. He looked at my plate like a school master looking at a boy caught with a slingshot.

Knowing that it would be rude to just walk off after the nice woman’s obvious invitation for a chat, I asked where they were heading to next.

She explained that they were doing the Camino in stages, and that they were partway through a stage to Burgos, and from there they’d return home. She proudly showed me her Michelin Guide, where they had each overnight stop marked in pen, including the price of the accommodation.

€65 – €72 – €60 – €85. Wow. These pilgrims are doing it in style.

We only stay in the best places, she said, a little coyly.

Why not? the fox hunter chimed in, and winked at me conspiratorially, as though by my mere presence in the breakfast room of this luxury hotel, I was complicit in the flouting of basic pilgrim principles.

The nice woman explained that they had all their hotels pre-booked, and they had their luggage (luggage, not backpacks) shipped ahead to the hotel each day, where they were unpacked and laid out in readiness for when they arrived.

We manage about 10-12kms a day, she explained, and every now and then we take taxis.

More NOW than THEN, the fox hunter chortled, giving me another mischievous wink.

The nice lady then asked about my Camino. With one eye on my Leaning Towers of Croissants, and the other on my stack of sliced chorizo that constituted half a side of pork, I explained that I’d started in St. Jean Pied de Port, and apart from this little sojourn in a Parador, principally because of medical issues I was quick to add, I’d stayed in albergues most of the way. 

The woman asked pointedly if I’d walked the whole way.

I have, I said, and added: Do you want to see my blister?

She graciously declined, not realising how lucky she was, but said in hushed tones to her husband: There you are! He’s a true pilgrim. Then she turned to me, and a little shamefully, she said: We’re not. We’re not true pilgrims.

I thought about this later as I stepped outside in the rain, and made my way to the Cathedral. What is a true pilgrim? I wondered. 

There are some people I met only once on the Camino, and yet they had a profound affect on me. I wished I’d spent more time with them.

Some were literally ships passing on a sea channel that has always existed, and will always exist.

Like the bloke I met when I was about 5kms outside of Ponferrada. It was blazing hot that day, I’d got lost, it was after 2pm so there was no one else on the track, and then I heard this tap tap tap behind me.

I looked around and it was this bloke, and as he came alongside me we chatted. We only chatted for about 5 minutes, but I discovered that he had left St.Jean about 10 days after me – and he was averaging about 35km-40kms a day.

What impressed me was his calm. His sense of ease. His complete sense of self. He was dressed very plainly – nothing to indicate that he was athletic, or that his walk was ego based.

He just was. 

I said goodbye to him and he increased his pace back to what it had been before he slowed down to talk to me – and as he tap tap tapped his way off, I marvelled at the effortlessness of his gait, and his serenity.

I put my head down to concentrate on my footfall, and when I looked up again he was gone. He was like an apparition that had appeared to tell me that the walk could be easy. That life could be easy. If I let it. If I relaxed.

Then there was Ben, in the small restaurant / bar deep into the Meseta. Ben was an old bloke (and by that, I mean he was over 60… 🙂 ) and I had my sights set on walking 41kms that day, through to Sahagun.

I’d stopped at the bar for my two Coke Zeros, and something to eat, and I got talking to Ben. Immediately I sensed he was an old wise soul. He was a retired mechanical engineer, and we quickly began talking about the nature of the Universe.

If I have one great regret from my Camino, it’s that I didn’t stop at that village and spend the night there, and talk more to Ben. I could have learnt a lot. But my ego, and my drive, had me walk out and go through to Sahagun, where I had one of the worst and most uncomfortable nights of the entire walk.

My PGS had told me, urged me, to stay and talk more to Ben, but my willforce over-rode it.

These are just two of the amazing people I met briefly on my pilgrimage – and of course there were others too – people I wished I’d slowed down for, so I could learn from them.

Did any of you have similar experiences?

Arlene has been an active contributor to the blog for quite some time, and is a moderator on the PGS The Way Forum. She also heads up the Tucson Arizona Chapter of the American Pilgrims on the Camino.

She’s soon to be heading off on her second camino, and so I asked her to post a guest blog. Here’s what she’s posted:

Camino – High Anxieties   

I will be leaving the States to begin my second Camino Frances in less than a month.

Many of last year’s anxieties proved to be pure silliness on my part.  Worries like would I be all alone,   would I get lost, what about wild dogs, how would I find my way to and from the airport and a hundred more silly scenarios I dreamed up.  None of which became an issue while on Camino.

You would think I should have all the questions answered and not have any worries about my 2013 Camino.  After all I walked the Way last year, everything should be simple and just fall into place shouldn’t it?   That, however, is not the case.

Here are some of this year’s anxieties with my solutions in parenthesis below each worry:

Have I trained enough?

(It will have to be enough!  If I haven’t trained enough, the Camino will provide a proper training ground.)

Is my backpack a manageable weight?

(It weighs 6.34 kilograms or 13.9 pounds, last year it was a lot heavier.)

Will I regret eliminating many things from the pack?

I will be walking mid September through October, am I prepared for cooler weather?

(Spain is not a third world country, they do have stores.)

Now here are my High Anxiety items (still fretting over these) with my comments in parenthesis:

Should I carry-on my backpack or check it as baggage?  I have several plane changes before I arrive in Madrid. 

(I still haven’t decided on this yet – HELP!)

Should I risk the airline losing my backpack?

(Seriously, how often do they lose baggage?)

If I carry the backpack on-board, will I be able to have my trekking poles inside, or will they be confiscated?

(I suppose a simple solution would be to send the poles to the hotel I will be staying in the first evening I arrive in Spain.)

But what if they don’t arrive on time?

Now PGS family, share some of your concerns/anxieties of upcoming or past Caminos.  Oh, and offer suggestions for my High Anxiety concerns, PLEASE!

Obviously letting go of control and letting the Camino and my PGS show me the way, is a lesson I still need to learn.

Arlene

This post should get some discussion going!

😀

I thought it was worth starting up a new post on this subject, because I notice it’s being discussed on another page, and I think it deserves a page (or two!) on its own.

The argument being put is that you should listen to your body when you feel pain. Pain is the body’s alert mechanism that tells you something’s not right. That you should stop what you’re doing, attend to the pain and the underlying cause or causes.

If you don’t listen to your body, if you override pain’s warning, then you risk damage to your body – and perhaps serious permanent damage.

I believe that’s correct.

But I also believe there is pain and there is pain.

Everyone who walks the Camino experiences pain. If everyone who walked the Camino listened to their bodies, very few would finish. 

Dealing with pain I believe is part of the Camino experience.

For me, pain humbled me. Pain became an incredibly important part of my catharsis. Arguably, if I hadn’t experienced the pain I did, I would not have undergone the metaphysical changes that have subsequently had such a profound effect on my life.

Without pain, my Camino would not have been as much of a spiritual journey as it turned out to be, because at times the pain put me into a transcendent state.

I saw people give up the Camino because of pain. They would go to a nurse, or a doctor, and they would be told that they would have to rest up for two weeks, or stop. So they went home.

Of course a medical professional is going to advise you to stop. That’s their job. That’s what they’re trained to do. I felt that many pilgrims were relieved to have this professional advice, because it gave them legitimacy to stop.

Then there were those that had serious structural ailments and of course they had to stop. That’s just common sense. You can’t walk on a broken leg. You can’t walk if you’ve got life threatening asthma and there’s pollen in the air. You can’t walk if your knees are shot.

But there is pain and there is pain.

Blisters are painful. Bah! Unless you’re going to get gangrene and risk amputation, you can walk through blister pain. You treat the blister, you monitor it, but you keep walking. Tendonitis is painful. That’s more serious. But how many people have walked the Camino with tendonitis?

Let me state this very clearly and unambiguously –

• I am stupid.
• Don’t listen to me.
• Don’t do what I do, or did.

I’ve only ever written this blog from personal experience, to document those experiences so that some of you might get something from what I’ve done. But I’ve never tried to foist my point of view on anyone. Or tell anyone what to do.

If I’d given up in Pamplona, when my knee was the size of a balloon and my pain was immeasurable, I would have regretted that the rest of my life.

I rested for a day, I lightened my backpack, I iced my knee, I bought trekking poles, I took anti-inflammatories, then I continued on. And later during the walk I had more pain, and I continued on.

I got to Santo Domingo and the nurse there said I should take a week off. I took a day off, and kept walking. And I finished the Camino. And it will go down as one of my great achievements in life.

And it’s changed my life.

I don’t say this because I’m a tough guy, or macho, or that I’m better than someone who stopped. I hate pain. I’m a complete wuss. But, I had a particular need. That need was to finish the Camino. That’s all I wanted to do. And I was prepared to put that need ahead of anything else, including my own well being.

Is that achievement any greater because I walked through pain? No. I wished I hadn’t had the pain. But that’s what the Camino threw at me, to humble me, to literally bring me to my knees, to force me to look at my life from a new perspective.

There is pain and there is pain.

Listen to your body, then you decide what’s best to do.

Don’t do what I did. Necessarily…

My knee injury didn't happen on the Camino.

It happened over a period of nearly 35 years.

In 1978 I was a passenger in a horrific car crash in which my spine was broken, my right leg was smashed, my teeth were smashed, and I received internal injuries.

It was touch and go as to whether I'd ever be able to walk again.

I was in ICU for 10 days, and Sydney's Royal North Shore Hospital's Spinal Unit, in a full plaster body cast, for three months.

I had been a keen long distance runner, and shortly after my recovery I began running again. But because of the accident, I'd lost a bit of length off my right leg.

My biodynamics were all out, even with orthotics, and so with doing about 80-100kms per week, I gradually screwed up my knee, to the point where I could no longer run.

So the injury has been there a long time.

Yesterday I wondered – if I had gone to a doctor before my Camino, and if I'd had x rays done, then the doctor would have told me that a) it would not be possible to walk 800kms on my knee, and b) if I tried, I would do serious permanent damage.

So what would I have done?

It certainly would have affected my Camino, had I seen the doc beforehand. I would have been less confident, and it might have weakened my resolve – my determination.

I know for sure it wouldn't have stopped me doing the Camino. I was so fixated with doing it, nothing would have stopped me. But it would have dented my sense of entitlement of completing it, that's for sure!

That's why, when my knee gave me pain in training before I left Australia, I didn't seek medical advice.

I'm so glad I didn't!

Today this blog tipped over the 75,000 page view mark.

This since mid April.

Soon we’ll be at 100,000.

Each day it keeps on growing and growing.

And each day you continue to delight me, provoke me, instruct me, and humble me.

Thank you!

Bill

He said it was “a miracle” I walked 800km on my knee.

He couldn’t believe it.

I have bone on bone.

Officially, the specialist (one of the top in the country) calls it an osteoarthritic knee. Unofficially, he calls it rooted.

Knee replacement territory, longer term, he says. Major surgery.

Short term, he wants me to get a brace for the knee custom-made – at a cost of $1,000; and an anti-inflammatory injection, once yearly, at a cost of $500 each shot.

He also wants me to do stationary bike, and rowing machine.

For those of you interested, the x-ray below shows that on the left side of the knee joint (or the inside of the knee), there’s no gap between the bones. There should be a gap around about the same size as on the right side.

Bone is rubbing on bone. That’s what’s causing the pain, and the inflammation.

All of this is not going to stop me doing the tour next year, no way.

I can perform miracles again!!

I have had some figures back from my travel agent – and will post more details on the Camino Tour forum.

Essentially, the travel agent is suggesting a two tired price structure; US$2,950 for the PGS family for 14 nights, hotel accommodation, meals and private van support. This is close to cost price.

For others, it’s US$3,950.

He’s suggesting that we limit the PGS numbers to 6 with 15 on the tour in total.

I will lead the group, which will include Sister Clare, along with my wife Jennifer. Sister Clare will provide Centering prayer sessions, and counselling if requested, and I will do a daily photographic tutorial, and will give camera/photo advice during the walk.

Jennifer will be on hand to discuss PGS and other esoteric things!

The tour will go from Porto through to Santiago – approximately 240kms. It will most probably be 1st or 2nd week of April, 2014

Check the forum for more details –

http://pgsthewayforum.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=14&t=91

Bill

For the last couple of days I've walked around Hobart – a beautiful town – the capital of the state of Tasmania.

At least, I've tried to walk. My knee is still giving me problems – a residue of the Camino in April/May.

Tomorrow I see a knee specialist.

If I'm to do any serious walking in the future, I will have to get my knee fixed. It will probably require surgery.

The numbness in my left foot is slowly fading – as the Neurologist predicted. That's good news. But the knee over the past couple of days was so painful I limped everywhere.

I walked the Camino on Ibuprofen – for 28 days, 3 x 600mgs. That's how I got through it, by masking the pain.

Stupid, really.

But I wanted to finish the pilgrimage.

And I have absolutely no regrets, because that walk changed my life.