Getting Real

It is a time of milestones, rain a some serious guts. In the little and the big of my life's journeys thus far, the past couple of days have sung out with significance. Firstly, my time in the Navy has come to an end. Although I have not put on a uniform for over a month, my official last day on active duty was on October 1st. Walking for hours a day, often alone, I have had the idle time to fully experience and appreciation a wide range of thoughts. I have reflected deeply on what the last 10 years have meant to me, what the Navy has meant to me, what it has constituted in my life, and what does life look like now. I can say simply, that I am overwhelming grateful to the Navy. It is somewhat cliche, but for all of the obvious reasons, I cannot look back at the whole of my experience with any regret. I have the deepest of friendships, I have learned life lessons in the span of a few years, I have fallen in love, lived in paradise, embraced days to the fullest and been given the honest gift of perspective and wonder. All this has been with the backdrop of the Navy, and who is to say it could have been any better or worst with a different path. I am proud of the last 10 years, and everyday that I am on this year of exploration, I will acknowledge that it is the Navy that has given me the time and resources to discover myself and my world. Onwards with what life has in store, but so far so wonderful. 

Standing on the edge.

On a smaller scale, Kelsey and I have walked 415.5 km (258 mi), and have now crossed the half way point of the Camino Frances to Santiago. Whew. And what a Way it has been. The bliss, the peace, the laughter, and now the hardship. It is the story of my life that I always enter every situation with only the most idealistic of views of how it is all going to go. There was no way I could foresee any real challenge to my love of the experience. Okay, I suffered physical pain, but I lightened the weight, took some ibuprofen, voila, easy enough. I wasn't expecting the mental suffering, but two days ago it hit me like a hundred gallons of water, which is approximately how much rain fell on my head over the course of the day. 

Field of vision.

For the first time, I started to question why I was out here. It is truly for will alone. This isn't a job, no one was punching my timecard to make sure I showed up. On Monday, I walked for love of the game, and it was arduous. Interestingly enough, it was also the two week mark, which according to Edward from St. Jean, the real powers of the Camino started to exact their magic. Maybe my real mental work was starting, as the novelty and romanticism of the Camino started to rub off. Undoubtedly the weather played a HUGE factor in all of this. It was gray, rainy, and everything felt so absurdly damp and uncomfortable. I went through all three pairs of my socks in an effort to protect my feet, which left me practically in tears when I had no dry ones left. Kelsey and I, in trying to avoid the "soulless senda," a 15 kilometer stretch of the Camino along a busy highway, opted to take the alternative route paralleling the road through farmland. 

The senda.

We and the five other pilgrims with the same idea were treated to 15 kilometers of mudslide trail, soggy animal poop, drowning worms, and enough muddy puddles to last a lifetime. And the rain just would not let up. 

A precarious flooded bridge crossing where I wisely decided to take a picture.

Kelsey and I, in keeping with much of our synchronized experience, are both realizing the little and compounded realities of the Camino. Although it may seem petty, and not in keeping with the grander beauty of El Camino, there are annoyances and belabored irritations which we are continually encountering. Firstly, the quality of your albergue can make or break your happiness. After a long (sometimes wet) day of walking, it is unbelievably demoralizing to stay at a sub par albergue. After our day of walking in the rain, we stayed at an albergue which Kelsey considers the worst of our walk (I think Hornillos takes the cake). But in an effort to describe the little things that add up: the bathroom smelled like a Port-o-Potty turned over in an alley, our room had dozens of amorous flies intent on chasing and mating with each other all over our beds, the room was so damp our wet clothes literally did not dry at all (including our quick dry towels), and the kitchen smelled so much like mold I imagined spores traveling into my lungs. Most albergues don't fit this kind of a description, but it makes for a wholly uncomfortable and unclean night. 

This is how we feel about flies.

And then, dramatically, as many things seem to feel on the Camino, I encountered the biggest milestone of my journey. Simultaneously, my physical, mental and spiritual person was challenged. It started when I didn't accurately plan for a 17.1 km stretch along an ancient Roman road that is devoid of any food or water. Reaching the first town, and in a heightened state of irritation due to hunger (which should be no surprise to all those who know me) I demanded an entire 1.5 foot long baguette and proceeded to eat the whole thing. Huge mistake. I started feeling out of sorts for the remainder of the 10 km day, but was feeling in happy spirits due to the seemingly nice albergue. I decided on the pilgrim menu of the day for dinner, reasoning that I needed "real" food to set me right. Again, huge mistake. Within 10 minutes, I felt an unusual rumble in my stomach which could mean only one thing: it was going to be a long night. 

This is how I feel about bread.

After my first wave of sickness within 15 minutes of dinner, Kelsey pulled out her supplies, and we went in search of hot water for peppermint tea. Upon asking the albergue hostess for a cup of hot water, she responded with, "that'll be .50 euro." It was then that I had my biggest spiritual challenge of the Camino, standing before this woman sick, pale and trembling. She, who had already charged me 19.50 euro for a simple bed and awful dinner, saw me not as a pilgrim, but as a dollar sign. For her, and her private (not municipally run) albergue, the Camino was an excellent source of tourist industry revenue. I was momentarily heartbroken when thinking if a true pilgrim, someone who wholly depends on the kindness of strangers, would even be able to walk the Camino Frances. I was seeing myself in a new light. Was I a pilgrim? What did that even mean? What expectations had I walked into this experience with?

My kindred spirit on the Camino.

I had plenty of time to think on all of this as I was up all night, lying down for thirty minutes at a time before running again to the bathroom as a rampage ran through my body. Finally around 4:45, I was able to fall asleep for two hours. Thus began the most physically challenging day, maybe of my life (the marathon can't even hold a candle). Entirely depleted of all nutrition and liquids in my system, I managed to drink a glass of orange juice before shouldering my pack, and walking the 13 km to our destination. It may have only been 13 km, but it was only with the greatest of struggle, sheer guts alone that had me putting one foot in front of the other. Slowly I shuffled through each kilometer, Kelsey, my constant companion, picking up all the slack and providing invaluable words of encouragement. I was so dehydrated, that my heart felt like it was in a vice, scaring me with how hard I seemed to be working just to walk. Taking an obscene number of breaks, which usually meant me suddenly stopping, taking off my pack and sitting right on the road, we finally walked into the big city of Sahagun. Unable to stomach being ill in another albergue, we wisely opted for a hostel, where I promptly passed out for 4 hours. Waking up, Kelsey presented me with fresh squeezed orange juice, and peaches with strawberry yogurt. Thank God for her.

Amazingly enough, I ate yogurt. That's definitely conquering something.

I am still in love with this experience. With the walking, the friendships, the challenge and the beauty of this country. I believe that this is all part of the El Camino experience. The challenging soul searching, the letting go of expectations, the toil, and simply being rather than always trying to be. From hardship, there is a greater light of overcoming. We are conquering fears (injury for Kelsey, germs for me - Kelsey has clearly overcome the fear of germs as evidenced by the "Street Banana" incident in which she dropped her freshly peeled banana on the dirty, wet streets of Formista, promptly picked it up, wiped it off on her dirty, wet rain pants, and ate it in 3 bites), overcoming discomfort, and I have loved so much of myself, other pilgrims, and the Way itself over the past 17 days. I hold tightly to all the happiness I have experienced thus far, and step by step, we are walking away from negativity, and towards a finer version of ourselves. Hopefully I will feel my strength return tomorrow, and once again walk lightly down the Camino towards Santiago. 

El Camino beauty.