It was alright.
You expected more? Well stop doing that. That’s exactly why it was alright. My expectation going into it was that it was going to be this euphorically enlightening experience that I would come out of knowing exactly what I would do next. Who and what I was going to be would be decided because I’ll be walking all day every day with all the time to think about it. Why did I think that? Why did I believe that? Because I wanted to. Because I needed to. In comparison to what I thought it would be, and what I wanted it to be…it was alright.
Maybe it’s because I’ve come out of it feeling more lost and uncertain than ever before in my life, that my recollection of my days on the Camino is tainted? Maybe I don’t want to believe it included some of the best times I’ve ever had, as that makes the post Camino adaptation easier to transition into. I’m not sure it’s working.
My mind wants to tell me it wasn’t as good as I seem to remember it being, in a way of protection to ensure that the transition back into ‘normal/real’ life is a smooth and easy one, as opposed to the nightmare it really has been.
A part of me just wants to spend the rest of my life on the Camino and another part of me wants never to go back again. It’s given me a taste of simple life. The simple life that I think we are all so desperate for, but that society leads us to believe isn’t good enough. Isn’t ambitious or adventurous enough. A life with community away from capital. I was more present than I think I’ve ever been. A constant consideration of where I am now? What’s the weather doing? How do I feel? What have I eaten? Where will I sleep? Who will I meet?
Simple.
If I could, I think I would live on the Camino for the rest of my life, or at least in accordance to that lifestyle. With those refined values and concerns, getting up early, watching sunrises and sunsets, sharing moments and meals, walking across the land and pausing to take in its unreserved beauty. But I can’t, that’s not the world we live in, it’s there for us when we want it, but the painful reality of coming back home makes me think maybe it’s not such a surprise we’re in such a state of mental disillusionment and global confusion, when simplicity and contentment are scarcely now our greatest goals.
So, how was it?
Looking back on some diary entries from my trip (which I told myself I would do every day, like a new year’s resolution that will magically just happen because I’ll be a different person in the future, a more dedicated and disciplined person), and reflecting on my memories from those days, it was outstanding. Without a doubt some of the greatest days of my 26 years were had in those 5 weeks I spent walking across Spain. Some of the most incredibly generous and unforgettable people I’ve ever met are thanks to my decision do it. But I, perhaps like others, seem to write more when I’m excited, and less when the going gets tough as a way of avoiding the reality of my state of mind.
As much as I would tell myself to drop the expectation of what I was getting myself into, you want to believe it’s going to be awesome, so a part of you does believe it. Though there’s a significant gap of writings in the last two weeks of the walk because it wasn’t the romantic and soul finding experience I lead myself to believe it might be. It was hard. I got sick. It rained, a lot. It was cold. At times lonely. It was heavy. Tiring. Long. Painful. Tedious. But incredible all the same. And the best thing? The thing that stopped me from writing, ensured I kept going, and that has made it hard to settle back into this other life, normal life, is the other pilgrims. You become a pilgrim as soon as you set foot on the Camino, not a traveller or a tourist. A pilgrim, walking the way of Saint James, and so those other pilgrims I walked, camped, ate and shared with, are the ultimate highlight of this epic adventure.
The people who I shared these 850kms with; they inspired me and continue to do so, so much more than the landscapes, more than the villages and towns and more than I could have imagined. I would rather talk, share, cook and laugh with them than bury myself in a notebook I’m realistically unlikely to look back on.
As a photojournalist I to go places in the hopes of learning about them, the cultures, the lifestyles, the people and the traditions. I wanted to get an insight into what life was like in Spain across the north coast, but that didn’t grasp me as much as the people who walked beside me, shared the bunk beds with me, and clinked glasses with me. I couldn’t tell you much about Spain, I could tell you there were riots in Barcelona, protests for independence across the Basque Country and Cantabria, a sense of national pride as well as growing frustration. An overall lack of unity which appeared to be leading to increased individual identity. What I can tell you about is Spanish people, in my limited yet humbling experiences with those I walked with and those I had the pleasure of photographing along the way. It’s those people that I walked with, Spanish or otherwise, that were the highlight of this adventure.
Many things happened to me on this journey, interesting or otherwise that I could tell you about in the hopes to entertain you, to inspire and educate you about elements of Spain or components of the days I had. Perhaps that would also make you want to get out there, pack your bag and walk. But this isn’t just a travel story full of day to day occurrences; this day that happened and it was hard because then this happened too. More interesting than what happened to me were the people that I met, who would be different from the people you might meet on your journey.
I did this walk for charity. I was inspired to do something about the fires that ravaged across South America at the hands of corporate greed. For capital gain they set the land on fire to clear way to raise cattle and soy for that cattle to eat. This annoyed me so I went on a walk to try and draw attention to it and raise money against it (thanks for donating, we raised £2000). Strangely though I find myself realising that without those fires I never would have done this, and I never would have met these people. These people who did this walk without drawing so much attention to themselves. Without feeling the need to put themselves in the spotlight. People who walked because they were searching for something. Coming to terms with something. Perhaps just walking because it’s an outstanding thing to do.
This story is an ode to those people. A thank you for letting me meet you, for getting me through the times I wanted to sleep all day, getting me motivated, getting me smiling. The setting is Spain of course; a mixture of Basque Country, Asturias, Cantabria and Galicia, the 4 provinces that the Camino del Norte takes you through, and in turn a melodic collage of rugged and dramatic coastline, luscious forests of pine and eucalyptus, offensive mountains that don’t know when to quit, and quaint and classic towns and cities. All beautiful and engaging, but looking back on it, all that beauty was just a setting for some of the most highly valued friendships I now have.