The Tunnel

I have now arrived in the town of O Cebreiro. This town (anywhere else it would be a village) holds an amount of mystique for Camino travellers, the approach to it being built up as being very difficult. It wasn’t easy but I don’t think it was any worse than any other uphill days, and especially day 1. It also marks the beginning of Galicia, the final province I walk through on the way to Santiago. People in this town speak Gallego, a dialect of indigenous Galicians. On every menu there seems to be the ubiquitous Pulpo en Gallego (boiled Octopus with potatoes, all sprinkled liberally with spicy paprika).

Over the last week I have settled into a daily rhythm, walking with 2 fellow pilgrims as the core of an extended group that contracts and expands each day. I have already talked about Bernhard, a 60 year old German man. The third member of the group is Brett, a 46 year old Australian with South African origins. I deliberately mention their ages, because Bernhard is the new father, whilst Brett is already a grandfather. On the Camino this means nothing!

Brett suffered a brain haemorrhage almost eighteen months ago which left him unable to carry on with his successful career. The Camino is a therapy for him both physically and mentally. It is an opportunity for him to test his body to see what he is capable of each day. It is also an opportunity to think about his future life and what it will involve and how he will contribute to his family.

Whilst he was with us, Jon was also a member of the group and we would walk in loose pairs, changing over every so often and often walking in companionable silence, each of us knowing that one of the others is there emotional or physical support is required.

Around this core group, we walk with and meet with others, because we have all met other pelegrinos during the journey. However at the end of each day, it is invariably the three of us arriving at our destination. This is as much as our new friendship as others staying in different towns, walking further or less. Invariably, we will meet these people again as we progress on our journey to Santiago.

During one of our more philosophical conversations, someone likened the Camino journey to progressing through a tunnel. The world is outside the tunnel, days and places blend together as each of us concentrate on the act of walking. People join and leave the tunnel at regular intervals, sometimes for sad reasons. Rudi, a Belgian I’ve known since Pamplona had to leave on Sunday because he received a call from home explaining that his father was dying. For me, and the other two, a key objective is making the transition from the tunnel to our lives and responsibilities, whilst taking with us the lessons and insights the journey is bringing.

Buen Camino