7.8 shake in Fiordland

Kiwi Nomad 2008 — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 03:56:00 -0700

Coming home again

Kiwi Nomad 2008 — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 08:34:00 -0700

Road trip to Tekapo

Kiwi Nomad 2008 — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 07:36:00 -0700

Christchurch and the seaside

Kiwi Nomad 2008 — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 02:25:00 -0700

United Breaks Guitars

Kiwi Nomad 2008 — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 01:27:00 -0700

Heading to the South Island

Kiwi Nomad 2008 — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 09:24:00 -0700

Blogs from those on the road

Kiwi Nomad 2008 — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 05:30:00 -0700

The shortest day

Kiwi Nomad 2008 — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 08:39:00 -0700

Ladies Rest Rooms

Kiwi Nomad 2008 — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 08:44:00 -0700

Kinship and compassion

Kiwi Nomad 2008 — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 14:34:00 -0700

It's the middle of May & I'm still without a passport

DG — Mon, 11 May 2009 03:51:00 -0700

Just one of the things that needs to get done asap if I plan to leave at the end of August. Wow, that's really coming up fast, isn't it? My plan is to fly into San Sebastian & take the bus or train over to Biarritz, then the train to SJP. I know most people go through Pamplona, but you have to take a bus or taxi to Roncesvalles & then another taxi to SJP. Plus the fare to San Sebastian from Madrid is less than that to Pamplona. Weird. I've revised my itinerary several times already, so who knows where I'm going to end up each night? Certainly not me! I'd like to stay in different places than I've stayed at before, though, so I might end up in places like Obanos & Lorca, as opposed to Puente La Reina & Estella. Once past Leon, however, all bets are off as I haven't covered that area yet.

A Brief Update

DG — Sat, 28 Mar 2009 12:46:00 -0700

I'm still planning to go to the Camino in September, but it might be pushed back to March 2010, during the Holy Year. If that happens, I'll deal with it. lol! Anyway, I'm back to walking almost every morning & today I completed a 5K walk. Doesn't seem like a whole lot, but considering I could barely walk a mile in October, it's quite an accomplishment.

I've got new boots & a new back pack (Osprey something or another). I might be having a friend join me for part of the trip. Who knows? I do know that at least 4 people have told me that they donated blood for this cause, so I need to figure out how to update my counter. Ah well.

And yes, I changed the template because the pink was getting to be too much for me.

Buen Camino!

Happy New Year!!

DG — Sat, 03 Jan 2009 11:20:00 -0800

Well, 2008 has come & gone. It was a momentous year all around for me (could you tell?), but now it's time to get serious about my upcoming Camino. Starting Monday, I'm hitting the streets again, building up my stamina & (hopefully) losing some weight while I'm at it. I'll need to order the new CSJ guide & as well as look into getting a new pack. And socks. Oh, and boots too. I like the New Balance ones I used before, but they're a little worn down now & the last thing I want to have happen is for my boots to die while I'm in the middle of the Camino.

For the Camino newbies browsing my blog, I walked parts of the Camino in 2007, in May & in September. If you're looking for info on the albergues, start looking in September-December 2007. The info might be a bit out of date now, but I did try to include a photo of the sleeping arrangements & comments on the state of the bathrooms, which IMO are the most important considerations.

And a new era in US History begins

DG — Thu, 06 Nov 2008 10:22:00 -0800

Us after President Obama's speech:

Dancin' in the Streets! Proud to be Americans again!

ELECTION DAY!!

DG — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 01:39:00 -0800

Les Misbarack!

YES WE CAN!!

DG — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 06:58:00 -0700

Things are getting crazy over here! Here are several videos of how folks are doing their part to get out the vote for OBAMA!!!

From Cajun Louisiana:

From Seattle, Washington:

From Texas:

Major news & new plan for my Camino

DG — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 16:29:00 -0700

For the past few weeks, I have been in the hospital battling hemilitic anemia. The doctors tried to control it by medication, but in the end, it turned out that my spleen was the culprit & had to be removed. Damned French ancestry! (just kidding, mes amies!) At one point, my hemoglobin count was down around 4.8. It was a miracle I could even walk at that point. I was finally released from the hospital this past Monday & slowly but surely getting my life back together again. It's a slow process, my docs say, & one cautioned it may be a year before I'm ready to walk the Camino. That's okay, because it's going to take a year to accumulate the amount of leave that I'm going to need to do it!

Were it not for about 14, maybe 15, anonymous people who donated the blood used for all the transfusions I got, I would not be here. What got me through were all the prayers & kind thoughts my friends & family & many others made for me during this time. And of course, my doctors & nurses. I don't want to leave them out because they had a heck of a time with me. I tried to be a good patient, but there were a couple of days that just wasn't possible (like right after surgery).

During all of this, I prayed constantly, asking to be healed so I could finish my Camino. This prayer evolved into a desire to walk the Camino again, this time from Roncesvalles, and attempt to raise one donation of blood for every kilometer I walk. This would be 749 pints, based on KMs given in the CSJ Guide. While it would be nice for all these donations to come from where I live, I know that would be impossible, so I've set no limits on where the donations come from. If you choose to participate, simply go to your local blood donation organization & donate blood, then let me know by posting on the blog. This will be on the honor system, as I will have no way of knowing if you actually did donate blood, but God will know & that's enough for me.

So, hopefully by next September, I'll have enough leave time saved up. And since I always start out with a plan of where I'll walk to each day, here's what I've come up with so far (and as we have seen, this is also subject to change, since I can never seem to stick with a plan once I've got it down):

Roncesvalles (because I'd like to start off with the Pilgrim Mass again)
Zubiri 22K
Cizur Menor 25K
Puente La Reina 19K
Ayegui 24K
Los Arcos 19K
Viana 19K
Navarette 22K
Azofra 22K
Granon 21K (play Quasimodo in the bell tower)
Belorado 15K (might possibly move on to Tosantos because 15K is too short)
Ages 28K (but maybe Atapuerca if I stay in Tosantos)
Burgos 23K (maybe Tarjados so I can stay in Hontanas)
San Bol 24K (because Sil likes it)
San Nicolas 25K (but if not open, Itero, 1K further on)
Carrion 35K (!!! But last time, I walked 6k from Boadilla to Fromista
in about an hour; it's all flat so this is possible)
Terradillos 26K (maybe press on to Moratinos?)
Bercianos 23K
Pte Villarente 23K
Mazarife 25K
Astorga 33K !!!!, but should be up to it by this point
Rabanal 22K Minkey, will you be there? :)
Molinaseca 26K
Villafranca 30K
La Faba 25K Oh I might decide to go all in & get to O'Cebreiro in one day.
Triacastela 26K
Barbadelo 22K (kms are off here, because this will be via Samos, so maybe 25K)
Ventas de Naron 31K
Ponte Campana 16K
Ribadiso 23K
Sta Irene 21K
Santiago!!!! 24K

If I need a rest day, I can take the bus to Burgos from Belorado. While I liked walking that area the last time, I won't miss it if I have to take a rest. At least I will keep moving forward.

If I could only make up my mind

DG — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 10:28:00 -0700

I've been planning my 3rd trip back to the Camino. Sounds easy, right? Just pick up where you left off the last time. Weeeelllll, not so much. So far, I've toyed with starting in Sarria, Pamplona, Leon (logical choice), and Burgos. Why? My best guess is that I have a Gemini moon (according to some New Age friend) & therefore have a hard time making a decision.

I'm seriously considering starting in Burgos so I can get some mileage under my belt before heading up into the mountains again. Besides, I want to see the meseta that I wasn't able to see because my sinuses decided to act up in Sahagun last year, making me take a train to Leon. Since I've already done the touristy stuff in those towns, I feel that I can breeze through & head for little towns a few kilometers away so I can stay at different albergues than I did before. San Bol, perhaps? Hontanas? I doubt, however, I'll be able to bypass the excellent private albergue in Boadilla, unless I'm there before noon. No sense in burning 6 hours of daylight just to dip my feet in the pool or sleep in the hayloft. If I get there anytime afterwards, however, I shall be sorely tempted to stop.

So, now I'm back to curling up with my guidebooks & spiral notebook, planning out my stages (like that's been successful for me!), and checking out airfares--looks like I'll be burning frequent flyer miles this go-round. As for the time, I'd love to go in the fall, but it's an election year in the US. I suppose I could try late April-early May again & pray that it doesn't rain. Hope springs eternal!

And seriously, folks, please check out Gareth's blog & donate to his chosen charity. He's almost to Santiago, but less than 1/2 of the way to his goal. :( Help the children & toss in a quid or two (or five thousand).

Camino Dreamin'

DG — Mon, 16 Jun 2008 00:21:00 -0700

Well, here I sit, one year after starting the Camino & I'm still not done! I'm reading Camino blogs with envy, wishing I was back on the road, walking walking walking at my slow pace 20K to the next town. I've been involved in a very hectic case for a few months now, but hopefully, things will settle down enough to let me go back & finish the route in late September or early October.

One Camino blog that I read every day (or at least every time he posts) is this one:
http://whizz-kidz-pilgrim.blogspot.com/

Gareth Thomas is walking from Winchester Cathedral to Santiago, & attempting to raise £10,000 for the Whizz Kidz Charity. Please read his blog & contribute what you can.

Day 1 Off the Camino - Resting

Sun, 01 Jun 2008 11:59:02 -0700

Today has been a languid day of rest -- no walking or destination. A short breakfast of leftover fruit in the albergue, then the pilgrim´s mass at Noon to see the swinging of the botofumeiro, check in and lunch at a budget hotel, rest in my room while watching Indiana Jones III dubbed in Spanish, now puttering around until dinner. Final leave taking tomorrow when I fly to London in the morning.

After a full thirty three days, the journey has come to an end. Even walking down the street in my fleece and cargo pants, I felt more like a tourist than a pilgrim as I saw a steady stream of backpacks and poles eagerly making their way to the cathedral. I´m in no hurry; I´m just killing time till I have a cheeseburger again and spend too much money in London.

Let me take this chance to say thanks to friends and family who not only supported and encouraged me before I left but were with me often along the way --

My Mom never failed to leave encouraging comments here, and as countless memories from childhood flooded my mind on the camino, her presence was strong.

My Dad, who is very unskilled in typing and email, followed my steps and checked in with me a lot. As I walked through mountains or past lakes, reminders of past vacations with him came to mind and heart often.

My friend Jason was the first person to congratulate me or reassure me when I needed it. That´s the great blessing of a friend who knows you well. Plus, he took me to the airport and drove me around to buy gear. Can´t beat that.

My grandparents came to mind a lot as I thought of trips with them to New Mexico and Colorado as a kid. My grandmother, a pro at email, also made sure I knew I was loved, loved, loved while on the way.

My college fraternity brother, Daniel, followed the blog and always kept in touch to let me know the journey was a gift to him as well as to me. It was like having him here.

My friends Dustin and Ryan threw a big going away party before I left, including a collection of money. The overwhelming generosity of that gesture touched me deeply and has stayed with me. I have also thought of Dustin every time I heard the roncadores (snorers) in the albergue. Trust me; Dustin is a pro.

My priests, Nancy Lee and John, gave hours of counsel, encouragement, and love before I left. And they prayed for me while away. Every Sunday morning around Noon (6am in Washington) I thought of them faithfully waking up to give of themselves to our church and community. We are very, very lucky. I also thought of them when my pack was too heavy (NLJ) and when it rained (JFD). :)

My spiritual director, Marc, was in mind often, but especially when I was at the lowest points and when I needed a presence to lean on, knowing it was sturdy and robust.

My sisters, Stephanie and Laura, who sent me encouraging emails and who gave me the knife which I used many times for opening oranges or cutting blister pads.

My friend, David, who took my mail while I was away. And, most importantly, who walked with me one day as I thought of how much I treasure his friendship -- especially vegan cupcakes and free places to stay in NY. :)

My friend, Marco, whose apartment is always free, whose car is always available, and whose heart is always open. Thanks for the hospitality, and many, many times, I´ve had visions of a visit to Texas for bbq, steak, and Mexican. Mmmmm.

My friend and former seminary companion, Michael, who walked this way six years ago and who gave great advice. He has also been very kind to pray for peace on my feet.

Friends and family and all those whose gracious presence surrounds and uplifts me, thank you, thank you, thank you. What you have done and still do for me is amazing. I am truly blessed. And on this first day off the camino, I rest in your love.

Day 33 on the Camino - Ending

Sat, 31 May 2008 13:30:49 -0700

Santiago may be the official destination of the camino, but my pilgrimage didn´t come to an end until today. By bus I made my way to Finisterre, what the Celts and Romans belived was the end of the world. This finger tip of rock juts out into the Atlantic, and the sea stretches to such a far horizon that it´s no wonder the ancient world thought ships would fall off the edge. Only a lighthouse sits where the ancient temple to the sun once perched, and past the faro (lighthouse) is nothing but giant stones, wildflowers, and scrub bush that tumble steeply down to the sea below.

Sitting there on the rocks, virtually alone, I watched turquoise and aquamarine water undulate quietly and then break violently over sun bleached rocks, turning into foamy white cream. I saw birds soaring effortlessly on the air. I saw the sun, a blazing fireball in an almost cloudless sky. I imagined (and felt?) the stream of ancient pilgrims making their way to worship at Ara Solis.

It was a profoudnly moving moment, especially as I broke out of silent revery to ask my neighbors if they had a lighter or match, not an easy request when you don´t speak the same language. After ten minutes of fruitless hand gestures and noises, I found an Italian man with a lighter, and I began to build a fire. Traditionally, profligate pilgrims burn their shoes as a symbol of completing their task. All over the rocky promentory are charred remains of past fires. I found the perfect cleft and began asking others if they had something to contribute. One by one, pilgrims began to smile and rummage through their sacks for shirts, towels, socks, or anything else that would burn, since boots nowadays are a tad expensive. Two of us broke our sticks used as pilgrim staffs into smaller pieces after kissing them and giving thanks for the countless steps they helped to stabilize. I brought so much paper for kindling that the fire produced a large flame quickly, and with several shirts and sticks, we made a good amount of smoke. It was magical, as I threw my hands up, shouted a big yalp, and surrendered all my expectations, excitement, and feelings of accomplishment to this one moment of sacrifice and thanksgiving. I think I would have made a good pagan.

As the fire died down, our group slowly dispersed one by one. I lept down the rocks further, wanting to be alone on the penninsula. I watched the waves for an hour maybe, keeping an eye on a Peruvian pilgrim even further below. Someone told me he traveled for 3 months, all the way from Nuremberg, Germany. He looked out to sea for hours, alone, and I wondered what he must now give up in order to end this journey. The camino is funny that way. I spent days anticipating the end, and now that it arrived, I wasn´t sure how to let it go.

A day in the sun, after countless days in rain, surrounded by ocean, mountains, and forrests is a bit intoxicating. But eventually I made my way back up the rocks, and past the lighthouse I felt tempted to turn around and soak it the scene again. Instead, thinking of Lot´s wife, I decided to commit myself to the way forward, back home. In a brief pause, I loved the day and held it in my heart and mind, but I decided not to hold it too tightly. So, past the lighthouse I embraced the eastward way, walking toward the sun for the first time in a month -- walking not toward a pilgrimage destination but taking my first steps toward a long, winding amble home.

My pace down the mountain to the village, a 30 minute walk, was slow, movingly slow. For the first time in thirty days, I did not have a destination or a sense of urgency or a sense of accompishment. I just walked as if I was savoring the entire journey, no longer headed somewhere but headed from somewhere, sinking peacefully into a rhythm of afterglow. Down the mountain. Retracing steps. Headed home.

The destination and goal reached, the pilgrimae is over, but the journey continues. Only now there is no clear end, no Santiago or cathedral or site of an ancient temple. At the end of the world, there is nowhere else to go but back. And while I know there is more life to be lived, it is strange to not have a path or map, a next step to take. No more buen camino, just an ever unfolding ultreia. Now this particular pilgrimage is wrapped up into the larger way of my own life.

The Christian story provides a conception of an eternal end, not just heaven as a geographic place, but the human journey toward greater and ultimate communion with God. But that´s a bit harder to incorporate into each day´s walk, compared to a specific town or albergue or signpost or church that defined the camino target. Yet, some kind of end is absolutely necessary, else I´m just wandering without purpose. I wonder how to find one, knowing I have one in my tradition, yet still pondering how to give that flesh and walk the path.

Day 32 on the Camino - Arrival

Fri, 30 May 2008 12:16:42 -0700

This morning at 10:30am, much earlier than I imagined, I wound my way through the suburbs of Santiago to the first pilgrim hostel I could find. After a quick stop and change into thick rain pants -- big drops were falling at this point -- I walked the final 2 kilometers (30 minutes) into the city center. Either because it was rainy or because I was distracted, I never saw the cathedral spires. After rounding many corners in the old quarter and veering through slowly ambling crowds, I turned a corner at the bottom of some stairs. There I found myself in a large plaza with big groups of school children, tourists, and grinning pilgrims flashing photos and giving hugs. I craned my neck to look upward and got my first glimpse of the cathedral. On the camino, I´ve seen countless photos and posters of the cathedral, but now, in concrete flesh, I saw the first view of the end of my journey.

The pilgirms' Mass would start in about 20 minutes, so I skipped the postcard view from across the plaza and rushed right up the grand staircase entrance, through the two porticos, and into the interior. Unlike many other cathedrals, once inside, the view of the high altar is a straight shot, and you get an eyefull of the gold and silver altar right away. It was anticlimactic actually. The Tree of Jesse pillar is sectioned off for renovation, so the traditional first pilgrim ritual was out of reach -- putting your fingers in the five-finger grooves worn over centuries into the marble pillar by pilgrims giving thanks for safe arrival. With the Mass starting soon and the seats filled up, I searched for a seat and finally found one between two people who didn´t want to move. With a deep breath and stretching of my legs, there I was, at the end of the journey. It felt, so, unexpectedly ordinary. :)

I don´t like cathedrals really. They´re large, impersonal, and cold. Baroque retablos don´t inspire me, and the figure of Santiago Matamoros ("the Moor slayer") striding atop the cupola, with a sword in hand to murder Muslims, is a weird, jarring image for prayer. So I leaned forward, put my face in my hands to rest, and gave thanks for arriving.

I made it through the Mass without nodding off since I was more tired than I thought, and as we made our way forward for communion, one of the priests led the congregation in singing a German hymn to the tune I know as "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty." This is a song which I have sung many, many times on the open camino road. I was struck still inside. The Mass thus far did little to inspire, but here was a tune which had accompanied me along the way, and now to the very end. It was like a faint, wisened smile from the universal Spirit, a reminder that a presence larger than my language or understanding can draw all things together, beginning and end. Afterward, a nun led the congregation in singing Ubi Caritas in a familiar melody because we sing it at the Taize service at home. A few tears welled up but didn´t fall, as I enjoyed a really nice reminder of the gracious way to Santiago.

There is much more to say, but this post is long enough. For now, I can say that the city is big, smoggy, and impersonal, and I don´t find it beautiful (yet?). It is exhilirating to see pilgrims I know, to shake hands, to hug, and to offer words of congratulations. It is sad to see pilgrim friends slowly fade away to their homes and other destinations. It is scary to think of moving on and changing lifestyles, again. It is thrilling to think of marching out tomorrow onto the penninsula in Finisterre to see the end of the ancient world. It is fascinating to wonder how this journey will continue to shape me and impress me as I take it all in over the next few days.

Mostly, it is humbling and moving to think of all my friends and family whose support, prayers, and even money made it possible for me to be here. And it is lovely and delightful -- a right and good and joyful thing, always and everywhere -- to give thanks to the One whose love called me here and calls me onward.

Day 31 on the Camino - Hope

Thu, 29 May 2008 09:46:56 -0700

Yesterday was picturesque. Today was a muddy slog. Yesterday was pastoral, bucolic, and tranquil. Today was busy, rainy, and frenetic. Yesterday I ached to think of the camino ending. Today I look forward to saying despedides to Santiago on my way to London on Monday. I´m still enjoying the pilgrimage, even when the way bends around murky parts like today, but it´s funny how my experiences swing from highs to lows, just like the Spring weather.

Today in the albergue after walking a short 20k, I finished several days of looking back through my journal as a way to remind myself of all that has happened on the way, and as a way to prepare for the end -- so that I don´t forget all that has transpired on the journey as I rush headlong into celebrating the destination. Each signpost I pass in Galicia announces the number of kilometers to Santiago, and pilgrims keep scratching our heads at how small the numbers get, as if the rain is melting them away. Around the 20 kilometer mark, a Madrileno asked me (as part of an hour long conversation in Spanish I might add!) how long my pilgrimage was because he only started a few days back. 776 kilometers I said proudly. 776! And now it´s less than 20. How can the end be here already, and how can the gravity of arriving be encapsulated in a cathedral or a compostela?

After finishing the rereading of my journal, and after rehearsing all those epiphany and ennui moments, I was sad and excited. I was sad with a kind of samsara sadness; samsara is sadness at the passing of beauty, appreciating and mourning the fleeting nature of all that is marvelous in life. I was excited to think of all that has happened and will continue to happen to me, in me, that is beyond my awareness. In other words, I think the entirety of this pilgrimage will form me in ways that I can´t capture in a journal or even fully realize until time has passed and I sense a change within like the change without. My feet and my body have been put to the camino and impressed by countless rocks, tracks, ascents, and downhill plunges, formed by the terrain in imperceptible ways until they take on a new shape. The same is true with my mind and heart. At times I can´t even remember the name of the town I slept in the previous night, and much of the beautiful scenery fades from memory; yet something has shifted inside which is due to the many days of walking and praying.

In th end, I hope there are deep and lasting ways in which my soul has been impressed by rocks, ascents, and plunges both physical and otherwise.

Day 30 on the Camino - Thoughts

Wed, 28 May 2008 08:41:01 -0700

Some thoughts and discoveries from the way --

Before the camino, I thought my biggest struggle would be loneliness since I am traveling by myself and that the physical challenge would be mild. In turns out that being alone is not the same as being lonely, and enduring the road has been a tremendous physical obstacle that could only be overcome through surrender.
The Germans have a word "straeber" which means a know-it-all who always has to be first and fastest. That word has been heard many times both as a joke and as a gentle judgment along the camino.
In America, at the end of a date, a man asks a woman if he can come in for a nightcap. In Germany, a woman asks a man if he´d like to come in for a coffee.
Pilgrim gossip is just that, gossip, and usually (though not always) turns out to be wrong. This is especially true when it comes to weather predictions.
Rain is not that bad. Really. Sometimes I´ve found a song in the rain, and one of the most lovely and tender moments of love happened to me in the worst rain of the camino. In good and bad weather, I have learned that I can´t just give thanks for what I like or enjoy, else I´m assuming that part of creation isn´t capable of being a sacrament.
Rain can really, really, really suck. Sometimes the camino is just annoyingly, frustratingly unenjoyable. Ennui, I think, is the French word that is most apropos.
Chocolate is an exquisite end to even the most mediocre meal. Never walk or hike without it.
Your spectrum of comfort is flexible! Yesterday´s discomfort may turn out to be today´s luxury.
The Spaniards do not share our North American approach to lines.
I do not have to plan as much as I think I do. All will be well.
Europeans really do not like Americans because of George Bush. I knew this beforehand, but it has surprised me how verbal people are about it. Regardless of what you think of the President, the last eight years have tarnished our reputation abroad, and many people treat us more poorly because of it. As one European put it, "We learned over many centuries that invading another country doesn´t work. We don´t understand why your country hasn´t learned from our mistakes."
I can be both a person of great faith and great doubt.
The word "sudoku" is a Japanese number game. The word "seduko", easily confused for sudoku, is an Italian word which means, "I want to make love to you." Interesting story how I came to learn this.

Days 28 and 29 on the Camino - Pondering

Wed, 28 May 2008 08:27:12 -0700

No posts for the last couple of days because I wanted to slow down, be silent more, and ponder all that is happening as I enter the final three day stretch to Santiago. I also realized that I get online as a distraction from boredom, which is really an avoidance of rest. That seems odd, but I´ve had to learn how to do nothing, how to relax in the rest, rather than always looking for something to fill my time.

On days when walking ends around 1 and lunch and laundry are finished by 3 or 4, that still leaves many hours before bed around 10. Without a book -- I ditched my one heavy book early on the camino when my tendons were killing me -- the internet is a perfect, sometimes costly, distraction from learning the Sabbath -- that life will go on without something to do, and that I can rely on a power greater than myself to accomplish all that needs to be done. Maybe that is why the commandment to observe the Sabbath is the centerpiece of the 10 Commandments, because it sums up the idea of learning to rely on God. Regardless, that´s a long winded way of saying that I´ve tried to ease up on the posts.

That said, Santiago is now less than 50 kilometers away, or two days of walking. I´ve been thinking a lot about what accomplishment will mean once I arrive -- not just reaching my destination safely, though that´s important, but trying to be conscious of all that is happening as the journey winds to an end. What prayers have been answered? What insights were gained? What friends were made along the way? What changes occured in my body? And, most importantly, how can I savor and live into all that has happened to me that I am not even aware of? Many questions to ponder, which has made me think a lot of Mary who "pondered these things in her heart." May is Mary´s month, and it is a good time to ponder with her who said yes to God. It´s also helped me live into a great parable, that of the man who found a treasure hidden in a field. At once he buried it again, sold all that he had, and in joy bought the field. I´m trying to find and to give myself to the treasures that have been discovered on the way.

Day 27 on the Camino - Fiesta de Corpus Christi

Sun, 25 May 2008 08:09:27 -0700

I ´m walking the main street of Sarria still smelling the pine and wildflowers recently scattered on the road for the Corpus Christi procession. Cloud cover guarantees shade, but it is not too cool. Pilgrims amble about the town as locals can scarecly be found, some sleeping away this hushed Sunday afternoon while others are crowded around TVs in bars and homes watching the auto race.

After walking around, finding little to look at, I duck into the bar with an Internet sign, telling myself I want to get online but knowing it´s because I want to see the cute Quebecois and to be around people. I don´t really feel like praying or reflecting today; I just feel like relaxing, laughing, and wiling away this sleepy sunny afternoon.

Today was a gorgeous walk out of Triacastela. The alternate path leads to Samos, site of a large and powerful medieval monastery, along the river which has cut a small gorge into the countryside over the past few million years. The sun is up because I didn´t leave until after 7:30, but a brilliant and clear half moon is also out, just above the top of the mountain which silently observes me padding out of town on foot. I am alone.

Bright yellow wildflowers cover the mountainside, as do trees which stagger upward to a tree line. Above the line brown scrub brush hugs the rock all the way to the top. The sun hits only the upper half of the mountain, so the valley is in tranquil shade, grown over by trees as thick as velvet. Below the growth, the unseen river hurries on its way, and its rush continually fills my ears since today it and the camino are inseparable friends.

Sometimes to the right of the road, huge slabs of rock jut up from the ground, pushed slowly upward over millions of years and, recently, quietly grown over by plants and moss. It has rained a lot in the past week, so water from an unknown source high up the mountain runs down the side of the cliff and off the rock onto the road, sometimes in charming tributary trickles, other times merging streams into waterfalls. A lone bird flutters across my gaze to the rock and perches delicately in a cleft, its own miniature waterfall providing a curtain of privacy as it drinks from a tiny pool in the chink.

I walk on, enamored with the silent riot of morning beauty, until I turn around to see what is behind me. The rising sun beams into my face and illuminates the entire scene from the back. Water leaps off the rock in a fine spray, lit from behind by the sun. Several yards further I turn around again to see a tiny pilgrim against the backdrop of the gigantic mountain, transfigured entirely into silouhette by the sun. All of it is too much. I can´t help but be charmed into happiness. Today I am walking to an ancient monastery hidden in a valley, and this is only the start of my journey.

At times like this I shut my eyes with joy because nothing can be more beautiful. I close my eyes not to shut out the world but to take it all in -- to savor it and not to lose it.

But, of course, I can´t keep it. Nothing stays the same. The sun rises and becomes too hot. Silouhettes lose their romance because they lose their shade. Rivers move on. Trees cast off their leaves. A picture, or even a painting, cannot contain it. It can only be seen and appreciated now. It is a gift which lasts for the present and whatever small feeling it impresses in my memory for the future.

Today the camino is magically kind. Clear skies, pastoral paths, friendly but not crowding company, lovely village for rest, and the feast of Corpus Christi. Jesus made flesh each and every day, just like he was 2,000 years ago -- in rivers and trees, sun and moon, monastery and hamlet, men and women on the way. All are eucharist today because all are gifts received, made into the great Amen because they are not owned or controlled, but loved, and accepted with hands thrown up in gratitude. Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.

Day 26 on the Camino - Down a Mountain

Sat, 24 May 2008 11:26:41 -0700

First, congratulations are in order for --

David Steib for graduating from law school, finding a great job for next year, and gearing up for the Bar!
Thomas Cluderay for finishing his first tough year of law school, and to Jason for seeing him through it.
Dustin Cole for making a change that wasn´t easy but the right thing to do.
Mom for walking in preparation for a holiday with me in London and Ireland, and for practice packing to make sure she´s disciplined. :)
Marco Mendoza who enters more fully into his 30s on Monday.
My sisters for (almost) finishing another year of school.
My grandfather for surviving a health scare and on his way to recovery!

Not much happened today, other than climbing down the mountain from O Cebreiro. The views were breathtaking, as was the cold morning air as we descended from 1500 meters. We passed village after village shrouded in mist, which makes the stone houses topped with broom roofs all the more intriguing and other worldly. While the scenery was not as exhilirating, the walk was lovely. And once again the weather turned out to prove all the pilgrim gossip wrong. We had sun or cloud cover, absent rain, the entire walking day.

Now in Triacastela I´m at a lovely private albergue with a washing machine, dryer, and a painfully slow internet connection. I also had a splendid dinner gratis courtesy of the Italians in our group, wine from the Kiwi, and good conversation from two Americans. In fact, one woman is from Florida, and her best friend is a kindergarten teacher at St. Mark´s in Fort Lauderdale, where I will teach next year. Small world.

One week to Santiago now. I´m hoping and praying for a healthy and safe walk, in addition to a good rhythm for prayer and reflection. It´s easy to get caught up in the excitement of reaching the destination. At the same time, today I woke from a nap and thought to myself, "Well, all I have to do is have a hot chocolate, walk around town, pray at the church, and eat dinner." So I´m not sure how I´ll feel about returning to regular life. Who wants to pass up what I get to experience each day?! In all truth, I´m a tad nervous about reaching Santiago, a big city where friends along the way will slowly disappear to go their own way home, and I will make the journey back to a life I so meticulously planned to leave behind.

However, now is now, and the future is then. For now, I will walk for today only, as much as possible.

Day 25 on the Camino - Up a Mountain

Fri, 23 May 2008 07:53:52 -0700

Today reminded me why I am here and why this trek is worthwhile. Today we climbed another mountain, and this particular one is the most beautiful I have ever experienced. Words can´t quite describe, but pictures would do even worse.

Walking up the first stretch of the pass to O Cebreiro, I found myself on an overgrown path. Wildflower bushes on either side grew so large that they tumbled onto the path like waves crashing on a beach, and shafts of wild green undergrowth shot up so high that they eventually arced gracefully over the path to create a natural cover. It was like walking into enchantment itself, especially as the sun shone to reveal patches of light and patches of shade along the way. Bursts of yellow and white brushed my cheek as I walked by, and in the meadow nearby was a literal carpet of purple and blue wildflowers. At some points I was hemmed in by moss covered stone walls and trees fully covered with bright green and yellow mold. The stone path wound steeply upward, and each turn showed me the meadow below and yet higher vistas above. A smile spread over my face automatically and didn´t stop until it hurt. This, I thought, is why I walked the camino in Spring.

I was also feeling my oats since walking upward is my strength. I actually walk faster going uphill, and even though I was breathing hard, I loved feeling my muscles strain. The work of the walk today was a riot, and I didn´t want to stop, that is until the final few kilometers when I was dog tired and wet. I´m not sure why I like the work so much. Maybe it´s the Protestant work ethic I was given growing up, or maybe it´s just me enjoying what I´m good at. Regardless, I was passing people right and left, even when it began to rain and we sank our feet deep into mud. I didn´t care. I just kept walking and climbing and couldn´t wait for the views at the top. As we peaked onto the final ridge into O Cebreiro, I turned to see a steep valley below, shrouded in mist and rain, but the yellow wildflower bushes still burned through the smoke, creating a deep and lasting image in my mind of the final mountain before Santiago.

I wonder why people are fascinated by mountains. They do feel ancient and infinite at the same time, past and future held together and offered to the person who scales the summit. On top of the world, you feel that mighty things happen, as William Blake said, when men and mountains meet.

On top of this particular pass is the village of O Cebreiro, a medieval-feeling village completely made of stone with thatched roofs made of broom. Mist and rain alternate with sun to make this a perfect end to a lovely day. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. But for now, for today, I am eager to see what mighty things happen on top of this mountain.

Day 24 on the Camino

Thu, 22 May 2008 12:46:39 -0700

Today we reached Villafranca del Bierzo, at the foothills of the final mountain of the camino. Tomorrow we cross to O Cebreiro and the beginning of Galicia, the Celtic region of northwest Spain. While there was enough sun today to burn me slightly, since about 4:30pm we have had nothing but rain. The forecast, so says pilgrim gossip, is for four days of rain. If that´s true, I will need slow and steady feet to navigate the steep and narrow stone paths the next two days as it takes one whole day to ascend and one whole day to descend.

Interestingly, I´m on track to reach Santiago early, so I will most likely slow down. The feeling of being within striking distance of the destination is now palpable among all of us, as we start to chat about Santiago more regularly. But it also causes me to rethink why I´m here and what I´m headed for, so that once I reach the final stop I can be thoughtful about what exactly I have achieved.

Most likely, that question is more appropriately asked, "What will be accomplished in me?" because what happens to me is far more powerful than what I plan or intend. The trite saying is true, "Life is what happens to you when you are making other plans." My prayer of late has been that the Spirit will pray in me, that the camino will walk me, that whatever I can learn will be accomplished in me. Because, most times, what I want or plan is far surpassed by what actually occurs. That, I think, is grace.

This blog is tricky. Some days I think to myself, "What insight will I share today?" That presupposes that I have an insight or that the result of insight is that it should be shared. For someone like me, it creates a disposition to try to have a revelation or some noteworthy thought. Instead, over the last four days, I have tried to write and blog less. I have also tried to follow the example of Mary, pondering things in my heart. I don´t always know what is happening or what I am learning, but I trust that something bigger than I can imagine is happening. Life is being walked into me on the camino. The shape of rocks and the contours of human existence are imprinted into my feet, on my face, and in my heart as I do the very basic, simple things of living -- moving, breathing, seeing, feeling.

Just walking. Day after day after day. I have plenty of time, lots of time. To walk, to think, to talk, to sing, to breathe in and out, with each of millions of steps over path after path that stretches, seemingly, endlessly toward a destination that can never be fully known until it is experienced. Life is in the moving, the continual step, that eludes philosophizing -- though that´s indeed what I´m doing now, right?! -- and always beckons the pilgrim toward more, into the eternal yawn and stretch of time that disciplines me down to the very simple way of step by step by step.

God forgive me for trading living for planning, accomplishment, and bragging. God give me grace to walk the way.

I'm taking a time out for the primary season

DG — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 08:20:00 -0800

I am putting my plans on hold so I can do as much as I can to make sure this guy gets elected the next President of the United States:

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