Today is day 8 out of 34 days that we will walk the Camino. I haven’t really studied the itinerary but I know we don’t have any 100% rest days. Jorge, our guide, did say that we have a really short day when we get close to Leon but that’s a ways out. The last few days have been REALLY hard on me so this is the first time in days that I’ve had the time and the energy to write much of anything. Sorry about that but even the young Pilgrims are showing the wear & tear. I think I might have mentioned; this is fucking hard.
The weather has been surprisingly kind. I have to say that with a grain of salt because we started out with so much snow on the trail we had to walk the highway and we have had rain more days than not but it’s all been manageable. Before Marji & I left for the Camino I was watching the weather and where we are now was consistently getting an inch of rain per day. We have, so far, just been getting a light sprinkle here and there but it is cold. We might have some snow flurries tomorrow but I don’t think we have any full blown blizzards in our future. God I hope not.
So, today Marji said something that I thought was funny; I hope you do to.
When I decided to do the Camino a second time I really wanted to share this experience with someone. I didn’t sugarcoat it in any way. In fact, my exact words were “It’s fucking hard”. But Marji had done some 2 and 3 day Breast Cancer Walks so she knew what it was like to walk long days. What I didn’t realize was that she had no idea we were going to be on trails, not roads.
Today as we were slogging through the mud she admitted to me that she hadn’t understood me when I had offered to drive up to Santa Barbara and go for a “Hike” with her. She just didn’t understand why I would give a shit about hiking when we were going to walk across Spain, not “hike”. At one point I was laughing so hard I thought I might fall over then we rounded a corner and there was a gigantic mud puddle stretching at least 100 feet long and the entire width of the trail. I believe her words were “I hate you Joe Jeter”. We got a good laugh out of it but I think she was being honest; had she known that we were actually going to be on dirt trails going through forests and vineyards she might not have elected to come along. That aside, I am confident that when it’s all said and done we are both going to be grateful we made the choices we did.
I still find myself wondering why I decided to do this again so quickly. The last two days have SUCKED for me. I’m so exhausted at the end of the day I have to set an alarm and nap for an hour. Then my whole body hurts while I try to navigate where to get food before 9pm and before I know it my alarm is going off at 7am and it starts all over again; and this is only day fucking 8. OMG, what have I done and WHY?
Then we have several hours of pure solitude. Absolute silence, arctic fresh, cold breezes, panoramic landscape views that stretch on and on seemingly forever and then you round a corner and a completely different scene pops up and follows you for another hour or two. But that’s not even the best part. Our fellow “Pilgrims” are even more of a treasure.
I mentioned Barbara, the Hungarian girl I walked with yesterday. Tonight at dinner her name came up and everybody at both tables had met her and some of the group had even tried to set up her with Jorge, our Guide. There is an American girl from Rhode Island that came down with Bells Palsy the other day and even when her face was still sagging she didn’t let it slow her down. We have been seeing her and the people she walks with quite often on the trail and she is one of the most positive and joyous human beings you could ever hope to meet. Even when she’s talking about a horrible night they had in a noisy Alburgue she talks about it with joy and excitement in her voice.
As much as I hurt and as tired as I am (It’s 10:30pm right now and I really could go to sleep) being part of this ragtag community out here sharing this somewhat bizarre ritual with over a thousand years of history behind it and our days dotted with ancient towns and buildings and monuments, I can’t think of anything else I could do that is this enriching. The Camino, with all its faults, is truly a magical beast.
My eyes are starting to blink and I’m not even sure I’m making sense anymore so I should probably go to bed. I am sorry I don’t have more photos but until the rain clears up I’m not going to take a chance on ruining a brand new camera. I’ll get photos from Marji in the next week or so if I can’t use my own camera (she uses her iPhone) and I can post some of them. For now just close your eyes and imagine the most serene and picturesque place you have ever been and we can all pretend that you are seeing the Camino. I’m sure it’s close enough.
March 22, 2015
Joe Jeter
4 Comments
JoeLUNA
Well done Joe Jeter. Glad to read these. Thanks for posting. They may mean even more to you once youre back home among us.
True
Joe I often read your letters first thing in the morning, over coffee. Our day has not yet started and you are pulling yours together, often exhausted and sometimes exhilarated. Your reflections have often caused me to reflect on the nature of pilgrimage. I now think that is what my art has become for me.
At the end of a day in the studio I’m usually exhausted and sometimes exhilarated. Hospice work left me that way, but this is different. It is much more solitary, often uncertain. Sometimes it’s like dreaming out loud, as images and compositions insinuate themselves onto the canvas. I lean into them, squinting, long-looking, questioning. “Hah, I thought this painting was going to go in a different direction.” There are days when it’s just an uncomfortable slog, no glittering hilltop views, but as I’ve become a better technical painter, I feel like at least I have the right hiking boots on. Unlike you however, my body is unfortunately not shedding pounds, though my bed is, fortunately, predictable. Jim is also always waiting at the end of each day’s journey and we return to the comfort of our evening rituals…so it’s been a seven year pilgrimage with benefits.
But at night, once we’ve gone to bed, I generally return in my mind to the day’s trail, wondering about the surprises, the 100 foot puddles I’ve encountered or made, the relationships that were revealed….and what’s coming down tomorrow’s road.
There are things we are compelled to do: things that make little sense in context with the rest of our life, things that are departures from the world as we’ve known it, things that started with a simple tap on the shoulder or “coincidental” radio show, things that in the end surprise us with a sense of deep peace and accomplishment. Are they all pilgrimages? Sometimes, if we’re lucky. But walking 500 miles in Spain TWICE, and joining centuries of brother and sister artists in their solitude certainly seem to qualify. Buon Camino!
Linda
Our dear Marji will remember this trip for all of her days!!! I really enjoyed reading this post,it seems like you are starting to get into the Zen of it. I can’t even imagine how exhausting it must be. I do know what you looked liked when you came home from the first walk. Not only were you in excellent shape, you also had a peacefulness about you. Love you tons!!!
russjeter
I seem to recall Marji saying the same thing to me over 32 years ago!! She had been in labor for over 24 hours and it was hard work, tough and very painful.. but at the end ( 32 hours total ) Jennifer was born, and what a joy she has been… very proud daddy of my oldest daughter.. then of course there was the time I backed her up inadvertently, as she was naked from a shower into a wood stove which branded her but “Ashley”…. so Bro.. don’t worry, Marji forgives.. just might take her a few years… love you guys!! R