July 28: Here we go again

When I came back from church today, Carey had pulled our suitcases, backpacks out of storage. They make a dusty, scratched-up pile right now. They will be gradually surrounded by kit, clothes, electronics, day-saving hacks in various permutations up to 15kg each. Each time we do this (this is the third), we pack less, but still too much. We’re still building in contingencies and working on trusting the journey, another reason why this won’t be our last camino. We organise portage and carry only our daypacks, but it still feels important to travel light.

For the next few weeks, we will step round changing multicoloured piles of performance wear, chargers, emergency supplies, until we call “time” and fill the cases. Mine will be half full, topped up with Carey’s pillow, which has done as many caminos as we have. Sleep is important.

We also have the “Bonus Bag”, which we lodge with our friend Gareth in London, so that we have things like jeans, sweaters, smart shoes – normal stuff for our city days. This trip, our London bookends are full of theatre, exhibitions and friends, so we want to be city-comfortable.

A lot of people have asked us why we are doing the camino again, let alone, why we are doing two in one year. It’s simple: we share a love of walking, experiencing a place in human terms, at a human pace. In a couple, when you share a love of something, you lean in. The “place” in question, (the camino), is full of history, characters, diversity (of people and terrain); of layers and stories. Every walk is different, in the way that Heraclites meant when he said that you cannot cross the same river twice.

Moreover, we both relish the simplification of being on camino. Each day, all you have to do is get from A to B. It is purpose enough. It is entirely up to you. It is a promise between us and to ourselves (and, in my case, also with/to God). What matters is your feet, the weather, water, food, sleep, the people you meet along the way: a reconnection with the “staff of life”, with with gratitude. Walking camino makes concrete the metaphor of life as journey (or, perhaps, makes cinder path, rocky trail, dirt track, pavement, towpath, goat track, scramble… of life as journey). It is a privilege: blisters, aches, slip-slides, bruises, storms, floods, and all. We are thrilled to get to do it again.

The answer to “why two this year?” is simple. Next year, we will make a transatlantic crossing on the last remaining liner (the Queen Mary 2), celebrating Carey’s 60th. That requires jackets for dinner, proper shoes, swimsuits, trimmed hair... It’s just not compatible with camino travel. We also know we won’t be able to walk hundreds of kilometres forever. So, we have seized the (forty) day(s) to gift ourselves at least one more camino, knowing just how blessed, privileged, lucky we are to have that chance.