Two conflicting truths.

The real insights to my Camino Frances.

I enjoy my own company.

I also enjoy the company of others, a good lively conversation and social interaction if and as needed. It came as a surprise that on my most recent pilgrimage the Camino Frances, I had to face some very unexpected challenges.

Managing side effects of head and neck cancer treatment dictates my sensitivity to situational activity. Common day activity like dining with others, conversing in public- everyday things that require social etiquette alongside loud environments can be and often are, painful.

As happened to me in Burgos, the site of a world heritage listed cathedral and whilst I was there, an amazing medieval festival.

This was my third choice of Camino de Santiago - el Camino due in part because of the perceived difficulty in being able to eat on the “hoof”.

I was not wrong.

At times I would have been burning over 3000 calories a day consistently and I knew I was not taking in enough to fuel that kind of expenditure. That coupled with the sheer exhaustion of getting up everyday in rain, hail, electrical storms, hurricanes, shine, gale force winds - regardless, to walk the next section was challenging mentally and physically.

I’d reached Burgos with friends having just gotten over the pilgrim lurgy (severe head cold) when we organised to meet and dine with others at a “popular “ tapas bar.

Frankly, one of the worst experiences of my life & not for the reasons you may be thinking.

Here’s the story of my real Camino Frances.

The way of St James, starting in France and finishing in northern Spain.

I went to share an experience and I ended up with something quite different.

In essence two conflicting truths.

I chose to walk the 790kms of the Camino Frances solo.

What had me booking and paying for airfares was a couple from my home town who were my impetus to do it this year (2024). I thought it would be nice to share the experience given I was walking for all intensive purposes ‘solo’,  we were to meet another couple (old friends) from the UK and share part of ‘the way’ for five days. 

So it was that training started in earnest with my packing checklist whittled down to the bare minimum. You see I had experience, I’d walked the Portuguese coastal route on my own, meeting up with friends every few days and the more brutal Fisherman’s Trail in Portugal, a cliff and sand hike that hugged the Portuguese coastline the following year. I knew the drill, I knew the mental and physical strength required or so I thought. At the very least I knew what I was in for, I just had not fully appreciated the dynamics of a busier path.

I hill trained for the pending Pyrenees and upgraded wet weather gear to include a much loved Cortazu jacket with beacon location devices in the collar. Such was my commitment to ensuring I was least of a bother to others and was self sufficient with gear, fitness and my food checklist.

It was to be an intense and highly personal journey, one I could not have prepared for and it never occurred to me that the answers I was looking for, were to a question I wasn’t aware I had to ask.

Notwithstanding the emotional challenges it raised it was a remarkable achievement for me to complete as a solo hiker. A hiker with dysphagia as a result of head and neck cancer treatment side effects. My challenges of eating, breathing and speaking together or individually are a constant companion.

I chose to do the hike solo because I enjoy my own company, I enjoy the solitude and the time it affords to think, meditate and take in the scenery and activity without distraction. I like to take photos and stop regularly to do so, doing this solo means I keep to my schedule and no one else’s.

Gallinero de Rioja, Rioja, Spain

I also walk at a relatively fast pace compared to most and it feels unnatural to loiter, I like to get to where I have to be and then relax. That’s just me, I set a goal and get it done, it’s how I work and how I choose to live. So no surprises I tackled the daily average hike of 25kms with the same gusto as I tackle most things, it’s innate, researched and intentional.

What I had not done before was hike for that long a period of time, it was 37 continuous days with variations in terrain and unpredictable weather.

The daily routine soon became check the weather forecast, that established what went on my body, what was packed at the top of my day pack and check the distance to the next bed, that determined coffee breaks and what snacks (food) I had on hand or had to find en route.

When you have difficulty swallowing (dysphagia) and you are hiking central Spain you can expect lots of crusty bread, meat, pastry, ham and cheese. I struggled eating this diet because it takes so long for me to bite, chew and swallow. My tendency was to eat bananas, tubs of yoghurt and slices of tortilla de patatas, which soon became a chore. Eating just became a necessity for me to replace those 3000 or so calories I was burning a day.

It wasn’t a leisurely practice for me unfortunately, only 2 occasions did that happen and once was over some beautifully constructed lasagne I had just outside of Tricastela and the other, Iberian pork braised in onion sauce at an old establish family restaurant in Astorga-La Peseta restaurant, where I stayed the night after a long days hiking.

Regional food diversity also threw its own challenges,

as I started to learn what I could manage the food altered as I crossed regions. I discovered I could eat Chorizo if it wasn’t laden with chili or the skin was such that it dissolved or was removed. Galician soup – a traditional soup of pork, beans and cabbage was problematic because of the skin on the (lima/navy) beans. The same applied to chickpea soup – almost impossible for me to consume.

In Portomarin a kind and understanding woman blitzed my Galician Soup with a hand held blender and I drank that soup with wearied pleasure, shared with a new friend Dawn who was managing her own knee issues. Google translate was to become my Swiss Army Knife of menu negotiation and the more I used it, the better the outcome.

Pintxos – small moorish snacks on bread, first to be seen before ordered.

Strangely I managed anchovy, green olive and fresh chilli, sometimes the creamy egg and softer toppings were harder to chew and swallow.

It took 3 weeks of hiking for me to find my rhythm and by that, I mean I finally had my head, my heart and my body in alignment. It took some very uncomfortable episodes for me to get to that stage, I was doing it tough in the lead up and by tough, I mean emotionally challenging, emotionally confronting and on the “edge” for what seemed like a very long time. Day 21 was my break through day, the day I realised I was happy and everything was humming, including me.

What I had not counted on was the isolation and loneliness I felt on that hike.

I had never experienced it before, and it rightly or wrongly became the focal point of my daily existence.

It is important to understand that 8 months prior to this hike I had ceased communication with someone I truly love and who’s company I enjoy immensely. He had found me again after 23 years of no communication and unfortunately lives on the other side of the world. We had talked almost every day for 2 years and although we were not in the same country, it somehow provided me with a sense of belonging, that someone loved me and found value in my existence despite the geographical distance. This was my first long hike without him, although he was not there physically he was always at the end of the day or during a lunch break available to talk to, relay my daily story and discuss what was happening, there was no one there to share the experience.

It was starting to make me painfully aware of my isolation, not only on the hike but personally, workwise and romantically. I was on this pilgrimage to share the experience and what I ended up with was something very different.

It was challenging myself worth and I started to crumble under the weight of the realisation and the expectations I had put on myself.

I had two conflicting truths to unravel and that took dedicated thought and painful self realisation that I could not ignore. This was the reality of my camino journey.

It highlighted the futility of my current situation, hiking with other couples "The stark contrast between their companionship and my solitude was hard to ignore." I struggled to keep a positive outlook on not only the hike but also my personal situation.

At its worst a shared meal in a popular tapas bar in Burgos highlighted this for me.

I noticed I was mostly ignored by women serving in bars in Spain, no eye contact and no service. Doing this solo meant explaining (via google translate) what I needed food and drink wise. I didn’t want to be a burden to my fellow hikers, and I tried where possible to explain my situation in group eating situations to the staff prior to the table ordering.

I was painfully aware of the need to explain my food situation may not sit well with other hikers and I even started to bore myself with the relentless need to explain the situation.

This particular evening involved 3 couples and me, the third wheel.

The “men” ordered the food and drink for their respective partners and I tried without success to get served.

After a long day hiking, cold wet weather and little food you can imagine this was starting to become personal for me. I started to feel very defeated, It became very obvious I was in fact alone in this world and I better toughen up because there is no one here to save me. No one here to help, assist - smooth it, help take the rough and unpleasant edges off.

I felt like a failure.

I felt like I wasn’t seen and no one cared. Despite my suffering I was to accept defeat and relinquish any ideas of happy tapas munching and wine swilling.

The self-pity brigade had arrived.

I felt myself slipping and I had to ask for help.

There it was – asking for help, how it bemoaned me to do this, because If I was truly on my own I would have left, not eaten and gone without. Missed the experience, missed the friendship and kindness, I was so blind to just being in the moment, it was about the basics of life – food, water and shelter.

That was the lowest point of the hike for me, it should have been a highlight but there you have it.

At week 3 I started to get a handle on the situation, but it magnified my life to the point where I could not ignore it anymore. I commenced my Camino wondering what life lesson I was to learn and half way through I realised it was the one that was always the pea under my mattress.

23 years of ignorant bliss.

My mother’s passing 2 years previous – my friend and companion. I had some of my parents ashes with me for the journey and left them at the Cross and in various spots I thought they’d have enjoyed the view.

My adventurous spirit and desire for connection was something I had to address and I found it difficult to articulate as I journaled the daily activity. I found myself stumbling, or worst still ignoring my daily journaling as I couldn’t summon the strength to write. The strength to write honest words to paper and articulate the feelings I was processing. I was hurting, I was angry, scared and feeling very vulnerable. Then it happened, I realised I had to just get up and walk, nothing more nothing less.

Stop ruminating and walk. One damn foot in front of the other.

What insights about myself did I gain from the hike?

• I can rely on me when required, I never will again underestimate myself, and that often “silence” is the answer no matter the language.

• I am capable & love the quietness of being alone - self reflection is very important to me.

• I am mentally strong and resilient.

• I love who I am and I am ok just as I am.

• I am resourceful in times of crisis & difficulty.

• Others can rely on me.

• I enjoy a challenge.

• I am brave, committed and curious.

I am two weeks out from being back home in Australia and it has taken all that time to reconcile the hike (to the point I can write this), my feelings and what I am going to do next. Of course I knew there was going to be the inevitable “what now?” - the months of planning, research, budgeting and actual ‘doing’ now over.

So I sit in contemplative silence, I have very purposefully laid low and sifted through the experience. I finally cracked open my written journal that accompanied me, the journal in which I wrote private thoughts, sketches of images that captured my imagination and ticket stubs of places that inspired. The pages fluttered open with a familar scent, one that conjured memories of the entire journey.

It captured my attention and I was pleasantly surprised as to how proud I was I took the time to hand write the trip highlights and lowlights. I carried my mother’s coloured drawing pencils which to my delight turned out to be wet paint pencils. The weight of those pencils forced a focused and dedicated creativity that was new to me.

The names of the many people I met from around the globe, the conversations we had, noting the instant connections and the amazing things people were doing or dealing with. In the end I had to reconcile my intent, my ease with solo travel and now home, sit quietly with my resolve.

It was a hike like no other, it rises in me everyday in many ways, its affect will colour much that I do in the future but most importantly what I am doing in the present.

And yes I am writing a book - I mapped it out roughly today.

Part of me will always be that story and if I can give food hope to others that will be the best story ever.

Eat Well.