Meghan is another brave soul who has taken up the opportunity to write a guest blog.

She lives in Northern New Mexico with her husband. She is a keen cyclist and walker. Here is an excerpt from her blog – Life at Pedal Speed.com.

I love being outside hiking, rafting, skiing, biking, watching sunsets and exploring with Andrew and the dog girls. I love being in my kitchen cooking delicious homemade treats, trying new recipes and spontaneously dancing with Andrew. I love being in the middle of nowhere. New Mexico is a good place for that. I love being at home and spending quiet evenings listening to Miles Davis and planning our next adventures.

The First Step of My Camino

They say that your Camino starts when you decide to do it, and I know mine has already begun.

My Camino began one morning in May as I was lying in bed listening to the daily news on the radio, trying to motivate myself to get ready for work. I had been feeling very lost after some discouraging and what felt like crushing professional experiences.

That morning, tornado victims in Oklahoma were being interviewed on the radio and talking about losing their homes and everything in their lives. As much as I’m not proud to admit it, I lay there thinking about how lucky those people are to get start all over. It only lasted for a moment before shame and guilt flooded me.

I felt terrible for wishing that a tornado would sweep everything away, but it was also an awakening because I realized that I was desperate for a change. I didn’t really want a natural disaster to make it for me though.

I want to make my own decisions despite the comfort of not choosing and not taking action. There is real power in choosing, and losing that power is a lot scarier than making my own decisions. That was the moment I took the first step of my Camino.

I’ve been dreaming about the Camino lately. It’s almost every night. In my dreams, I’m never walking. I’m always in Santiago at the church, and I’ve never finished yet. I’m there knowing that I will be walking soon.

Last night I dreamed that I was inside the church, and I walked over to where the pilgrims receive their compostelas. It was a small room with a counter inside the church. It’s windows were decorated with cement filigree. The pilgrims waited in line patiently.

I looked through the window and saw them standing there and felt overcome with emotion. I was overtaken by the enormity of what they had accomplished, and my heart was filled with emotions. I knew that I would be walking soon too and standing in that line to receive my compostela.

It was a catharsis. I was letting go of years of anger and disappointment and resentment and unhappiness. Years of doing what I’m “supposed to do” and working at at a desk job that isn’t fulfilling. Years of feeling tired and worn out from willing myself to make it through another hour, another day, another week just to make it to the weekend only to do it again on Monday morning.

All of these negative emotions came bubbling up to the surface and I broke down in tears. I woke up crying with tears streaming down my face onto my pillow.

I think often about what it will be like to arrive in Santiago and stand in front of the church. Every time I think about it, dream about it or read about another pilgrim’s account of their arrival, I’m overcome with these same emotions and tears.

It truly feels like I’m letting go of a small piece of what I need to let go each time, and I’m hoping that will clear up some more space for me to accept and learn what I need to as my Camino continues.

Yes, my Camino has already begun, and I look forward to seeing how I change and grow over the next year. I wonder how I will really react and feel after this year of journey. Will arriving in Santiago feel like the end of a journey? I suspect it will feel like a stop along the way. It will have some finality, but really it will just be a major milestone.

Travelling sometimes delivers you disappointments of a monumental nature.

Today was just such an occasion.

The Wobbly Boot Hotel at Boggabilla no longer has rooms for the night. Nor does it do dinners or lunch. It was a devastating blow.

So we had two choices – drive through to Goondiwindi and stay in a fancy motel – Goondiwindi being a beautiful and large town by a gorgeous river – or we could tough it out in the Boggabilla Motel, which makes an illegal immigrant detention centre look a five star.

We chose the Boggabilla Motel, because it would be an experience we’d not had before – and the little town looked fascinating. Boggabilla is very close to a large aboriginal mission – and the only white faces in the town (other than Jen and myself) were the publican and the cops, who seemed very busy.

We checked into the motel, then walked back up to the Wobbly Boot Hotel and had a drink. The publican was a lovely lady named Paula, who was constantly selling packets of chips and icecreams to the aboriginal children.

She was very sweet to them – and when one girl was short twenty cents on a purchase, she let her have the packet of chips anyway. (I gave the publican the twenty cents after the girl left.)

We then went outside and two cops quickly wandered up, and told us to be careful. They warned us that the aboriginal population would have quickly sized us up, would have known we were at the motel and what room we were staying in – and so we better make sure the room, and the car were both secure.

(I had my big Nikon, and I guess Jen and I both definitely looked like “blow-ins.”)

But what nonsense. Why were the cops immediately trying to instil fear in us? To encourage us to see the aboriginal people as a threat? We subsequently spoke to several aboriginal people and they were delightful – shy, sweet, and definitely not threatening!

(In the course of making movies I’ve spent a lot of time in aboriginal communities and working with aboriginal people – even sleeping on a crocodile infested beach once with some tribal elders up in Arnhem Land.)

Boggabilla is a crossroads for trucks shifting freight from all over the state. There is a constant procession of huge eighteen-wheelers that just never stops. Except to eat. And they all eat at the Shell Roadhouse. So that’s where Jen and I decided to eat, too.

We were invited into the Truck Drivers Only lounge – which consisted of lounge chairs and large screen tvs and dozens of framed photos of trucks on the walls. Dinner for me was a mixed grill – $22. I was asked: What do you want with your mixed grill? Veggies and chips, eggs and chips, or salad and chips? 

You can’t have a mixed grill without eggs, so of course I asked for eggs with chips. This is what the meal looked like…

I’m still feeling sick. But it was an experience.

I wandered around town and took some shots – spoke to some aboriginal girls, Aimee and Tessa, who were really sweet. I gave them my email address and told them to contact me if they wanted the shots, and I’d send them to them.

Jen and I then drove out of town a ways then down a dirt road to a bridge, where some people were fishing. Had a good chat with them – found out that yella-belly was the best eating fish to catch, and the cod were delicious too but they were in breeding season, and if you were caught by an inspector with cod this time of the year, you’d be in strife.

People pass through Boggabilla all the time, in a rush to get to Goondiwindi, which is a much more civilised town. We could have done that too, as we’ve done in past years, but post Camino, I wanted to break old habits and dig a little deeper into the life in a small country town.

Dinner at the Shell roadhouse with all the truckers was fabulous, even though the meal itself was way too much, and way too fatty. And chatting to Paula at the Wobbly Boot Hotel was fascinating.

She and her husband have been there for eighteen years, and they stay because they genuinely like the local population – and I have to say just in the short amount of time I was there observing the way she dealt with the aboriginal people, adults and children, I can see why she is popular in town.

I figured that having walked the Camino, why not take what I’ve learnt and apply that to my life here in Australia?

Susan S has taken up the offer / challenge / opportunity! to post a guest blog.

Susan lives in Washington State, in the US, and she's a very keen photographer.

She is also famous on this blog, and the PGS forum, for coordinating the KIT THE NUN program. Already she's been instrumental in sourcing a huge amount of gear for Sister Clare, for the Camino Portuguese Tour next year.

As well, she has liaised with all those other very kind people who have donated gear and clothing etc, and in some instances cash, so that Sister has all she needs next April.

Susan just told me that a very generous man, Tom Turtle, has just donated a sports watch, and an iPod Touch so that Sister can be connected to the Internet during her walk! And Susan herself has donated an iPod Nano!

I am bowled over by their kindness.

So here is Susan's guest post –

Playing Peregrina

I won’t be walking my Camino until either spring or fall of 2014. It will be 1/3 to ½ the Camino Frances. Meanwhile I walk vicariously with the PGS family as you walk your 2013 Caminos.

I’m currently training by working down a list of local walks that as I go down the list, grow in length and/or in elevation gain. Eventually I’d like to work up to walking to our favorite taco truck 25km away, followed the next day by a 22km round trip from my house trip up Badger Mountain with its elevation gain carrying my full pack.​

A few years back I felt “constipated” with my photography. I was not happy with any of my photos, not happy with the subject matter, suffering from photo cabin fever.

I mentioned it to a Boston friend of mine who said try being a tourist in your own town. It will open your eyes to what I have been missing and taking for granted. (easy for him to say living in Boston) So I tried it and it worked!

Now I play peregrina with my camera on my training walks and imagine I’m in northern Spain rather than south central Washington. Which is easy since I live in a high steppe channeled scabland area with few towns and hills rising out of ancient riverbeds.

I walk and stop by little latte stands and sit a few minutes with a small cup of coffee.

I notice decorative ironwork on farm fences that I’ve driven by for 28 years unseen. I notice that the bridge over the Yakima is over 20 years old and think has it been that long that the road into town has been 4 lane instead of 2?? I see that one of the farms has both alpaca and llama!

On a clear day I stand at the edge of my yard and I can see the Blue Mountains 100km away and calculate that the hour drive would be a 4-5 day walk following the route that Lewis and Clark traveled over 200 years ago.

When you slowed down to smell the roses and train for your Camino by walking your locale, what things did you notice that you otherwise passed by unnoticed?

Today I drive to Boggabilla – about 650 kms.

I'm looking forward to the drive – up through central New South Wales. The route the truckers use when they're moving freight from state to state.

On trips like this I always take my camera – my Nikon, plus kit – but since the Camino I've developed a real antipathy towards the big heavy thing.

I used to love my camera with an unhealthy ardour, but now the sparkle has faded from our relationship. I'm starting to hanker for something a little more… svelte.

The university where I'm an Adjunct Professor wants me to hold a Master Class on Tuesday, for their 2nd and 3rd year film school students. How to have a career in the Film Industry. It should be interesting. I usually learn a lot doing these Master Classes.

Then I have several days of “pitching” sessions – where I have to judge students pitches – the process of trying to convince me, and a couple of other film professionals on the panel, to finance the short film they want to make.

Again I learn a hell of a lot from these kids during these sessions. I find that teaching keeps me in touch with the way young people are thinking – and what's important to them. Teaching keeps me young.

I'm taking my pilgrim principles on this trip – traveling light, and eschewing fancy digs for something a little more “earthy.” So it's dinner tonight at the Wobbly Boot Hotel, Boggabilla. I'm looking forward to it!

So, anyone want to do a guest blog? If so, please send it to me on: billpgsblog@gmail.com.

It would be great to get some fresh new perspectives up here. No specific topic. You know the kind of stuff we discuss here…

Really, when you think about it, it makes no sense.

You might have met the person only once or twice, and briefly at that – yet months later with each of you now at other ends of the world, you're still swapping emails.

And you know that should you ever lob into that country, that town or city where that person lives, you'll be greeted like a life-long friend – perhaps given a bed and told you can stay for however long you wish.

I'm not talking romantic attachments here. This is not as simple or as primitive as sexual attraction. This is genuine friendship. Yet you might hardly know that person.

What is it about the Camino that engenders this depth of feeling?

I can name half a dozen people from my pilgrimage that I would now regard as dear friends. And I largely kept to myself. I was by no means gregarious,

If I put a clock to it, if I calculated the actual time I spent with them, it might only be a few hours. But that brief time forged an immutable bond that I know will last years – in some instances perhaps even our lifetimes.

What's at work here?

Why?

In my book, I make a couple of references to the bonds of mateship that are formed during wartime. Soldiers in a trench about to go over the top, not knowing if in the next few minutes they'll be alive or dead.

The intensity of a shared experience. A life altering experience. Something that others who haven't been through what you've been through, will never fully comprehend.

But with the Camino, I think there's something more. Again in my book I talk about soul contracts between pilgrims. I'm talking about relationships that go back lifetimes.

There are people you meet who you have an immediate affinity with – who you feel you've known for ages.

Perhaps you have!

The Camino is a spiritual path. A life journey. A place where you are stripped back and reassembled again. A place where people come into your life for a purpose.

Are there people you've met only briefly on the Camino who are now dear friends? If so, why?

Once again Steve McCurry leaves me humbled…

Six months on now from walking the Camino, there are various changes which have become permanent. Some small, some major.

Small ones:

1. I still can’t handle the sound of my phone ringing. I kept it on silent all through the Camino, and I still keep it on silent.
2. I don’t put the alarm on at night. If someone’s going to break into the house and steal something, then they probably need it. (I do however lock the doors – and I am yet to put up a neon sign out front saying Steal here! )
3. I don’t buy things. Unnecessary things. I used to. The house is full of it.
4. At the end of November Jennifer and I are having a huge garage sale – first time ever. We’re unburdening ourselves. We don’t need so much stuff. 
5. I’m frugal.

Big ones:

1. I have more patience.
2. I’m more accepting.
3. I’m more grateful – and thankful.
4. My sister and I have become genuine friends. (This is MASSIVE)
5. I’m gentler.

What made me think about this right now is: I’m making travel plans for this trip Jennifer and I will be doing in a few weeks. We’re going to London for business, then we’re flying down to Porto to do a full “scout” of the Portuguese Camino tour I’ll be leading next April.

We’ll follow the Camino all the way through to Santiago – by car, but with a bit of walking. I want to lock in hotels, find some nice restaurants, and familiarise myself with the route.

Just now I went to book accommodation in London. When I go to London on business I usually stay in a place in Soho called Hazlits. It’s a cool little boutique hotel, but it’s expensive. I didn’t want to stay there this time. So I’ve found a cute pub in Wandsworth, out of Central London, and it’s about a quarter the cost of Hazlits. It’s perfect.

I’ll get the train in for the business meetings – and Jennifer and I can have pub food of an evening. I would never have considered doing this prior to the Camino.

This Sunday we drive up to Queensland for a week. (over 1,000kms) I have work to do for my university. Overnight we’ll stay at the Wobbly Boot Hotel, Boggabilla.

In previous years when we’ve done this drive to Brisbane, we’ve stayed in decent motels in major towns, not pubs in tiny little places like Boggabilla. But post Camino, everything is different. My attitude to these things has completely changed.

These may not sound like monumental changes, but they are indicators of a major shift in my thinking. I look at the world differently now.

I’m going to use the blog shamelessly today for self promotion!

So what’s different, you might ask??  😀

Britta – a regular on this blog – just posted a fantastic review on both Kindle and iBooks for my book, The Way, My Way.

For those of you who got a free copy and haven’t posted a review yet, can I gently give you a nudge? All these reviews are really helpful.

Here’s Britta’s fantastic review:

At the moment I’m writing a treatment for a movie on the sex trade of young children in South East Asia.

I’ve optioned a book on the subject, and I have interest from a financier out of Paris whom I’ve worked with before. I’d pitched him the story last year at Cannes, and he responded positively.

The film will be in the Jason Bourne movie tradition… an action thriller, but underneath it all it’s a very powerful statement about the evil of this horrendous trade in young lives.

So the financier wants an 8 page outline.

Writing an 8 page outline though is incredibly hard, because you have to work out the entire movie, structure it in three acts, and then condense it down into 8 pages.

Not only that but you have to create the main characters, work out their dramatic and narrative objectives and obstacles – in other words, you literally have to see the finished movie in your head, with all the major characters.

Even though it’s only 8 pages, a good outline can take months.

So I’ve been toiling away on this, and yesterday I hit a blockage. I was into the third act, and I didn’t know how to finish the movie.

There is an elemental truth in movies – it doesn’t matter how you start; the audience will only remember the ending. They will judge the film by its ending.

Anyway, I was stuck. Big time. I’d written my characters into a situation which was impossible to get out of – and I needed to wrap everything up. But I didn’t know how.

So I did what I’ve done in the past – a method that’s worked for me successfully before.

Just as I was about to go to sleep last night, I did a little meditation in which I laid out all the issues that needed to be resolved. I gave my PGS a bedtime shopping list of the things in the outline that I needed to work out.

And this morning, when I woke up, it was all there. I knew exactly how to end the movie. MY PGS overnight had figured it all out for me, and it was clear as a bell as soon as I opened my eyes.

I went straight downstairs to my computer and finished the outline in half an hour. I’d let the night, and my PGS, do its work…