We walked several miles and climbed 150 stairs (Abi counted) yesterday, in the cold and mist, just so I could show you this view. Okay, yes, we wanted to see it for ourselves but you get the benefit without the hike. You’re welcome!
There’s a well-known saying among experienced pilgrims. The Camino will provide. But, how does one pack for a long trek such as walking the Camino de Santiago? I suppose when anyone takes on an adventure that most consider a bit out-of-the ordinary, the inevitable questions arise, such as how does one even begin to figure out the logistics and what’s in the pack, Jack?
“Plans are nothing; planning is everything.” ~ Dwight D. Eisenhower
I wonder if there’s a 12-step program for planning addiction. Hi, my name is Patti. I’m a planner. Always have been, always will be. I like the challenge of planning, stretching my organizational skills to the max and putting together all the pieces of the puzzle.
I don’t know why walking the Camino de Santiago has such a hold on me, but it surely does. I learned of the Camino through my blogging community and then Abi and I had the opportunity to see the documentary, “Walking the Camino, Six Ways to Santiago” and I left the theater completely inspired and fully committed to walking. I mean, if a young woman can push her 3-year-old son in a stroller across the country of Spain, then surely, I can make the walk.
One of my most favorite things to see when we travel across the vast prairies of this country is the mile-long freight trains that often run alongside the highway. I start out trying to count the number of cars but soon give up because I simply can’t keep up. But if I’m really lucky I’ll hear that long drone – somewhat lonely – call of a train whistle. There’s just something about it that tugs at my soul; almost makes me want to bum a ride in an empty freight car headed for parts unknown. Almost.
The Road East – Day 7
For the past 9 years I’ve been driving my little ’05 Honda Civic Hybrid (a.k.a Hazel) and I could zip, zip, zip around town and easily access any parking space. I loved that car and was sad to say good-bye to her when we left Ashland. Driving Big Betty is a bit different than driving my little Hazel. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve attempted to look in the rear view mirror that doesn’t exist, or look over my left shoulder before changing lanes, only to see a wall of yellow truck over my shoulder.