Looking back

View Verdadero Camino in a larger map

This is a detailed map of the Way. In some places the path is highly detailed (like the Pyrinees), because I remember every step I made, and in some others it's not (like the last weeks, where my mind was somewhere else...)

It's all about Inspiration

In one CouchSurfing forum, called "Nomads", there is a user that asks the following question:

How did you justify your decision to live a nomad life to your family?

And there is another user, NOMAD POET, that answers this:

Dear Peter,

Breaking out of the mold the world has created for you is the hardest part of growth and evolution. And I won't lie to you, it gets easiER over time to walk your own path, but it never gets EASY. There will always be way more people who want you to just be normal, and do what everyone else does. Because misery loves company, and the happier you are being free, the more they notice the lack of freedom or happiness in their own lives. You're blowing the curve for them. You're making the things they have settled for more apparent. You are pushing the buttons for all of their fears and insecurities and making it very clear that SOME people live outside of what they perceive to be the only and safest way to live - and they survive just fine. In fact, they (we) are WAY more than fine. We are exuberant and vivacious and bubbling over with fits of perfect. And you know what? Making them face those fears is good for them.

I never convinced my parents of anything. I just stopped being what they expected me to be and started doing what I wanted. You need to be self-sufficient. You can't expect any money from them, and then they can't require anything of you. I left school in the middle and went and hiked the Appalachian Trail when I was 21, spending 6 months hiking through the woods. I did choose to go back to school, piece by piece, in between working in the fisheries in Alaska, and I did finish, because I was still partially under the spell of society's fears. But I am 39 now and I have never used my degree for anything. I don't regret my time in school, because I chose wisely and studied subjects I was interested in. I have definitely used my "learning" but never my "credentials."

I made sure that I never needed anything from my family and I come back and visit them at least once a year, sometime staying for a month or so if I have the time available to give them some time. If I am traveling I leave a blog with photos and stories so they can see what I am doing. They are endlessly amazed by all the adventures I have been on. I keep my communications to once a month or so - that way if I am in a remote area where I will be out of touch for a while (like in the Amazon jungle or out in the highlands of Tibet somewhere) then they won't get anxious if they don't hear from me in a while. usually I don't tell them when I am going to do something considered by most people to be "risky" or "dangerous" until after I have done it. Then I tell them all about it and how AWESOME it was. Living vicariously through my successful adventures helps them to become more brave and to see a bit of the world and its possibilities even if they don't have the courage themselves to go follow their dreams.

Not everyone will ever be like us. But if you can show them consistently over time that you are surviving just fine, don't need any money from them, and that you are having fun and enjoying your life, hopefully they will start to relax and stop feeling anxiety over whether you will ever be "successful" by their small perception of what that means. Maybe over time they will even be able to see that you ARE successful by any real standards. Maybe not - some people cling to their fearfulness like rats to a sinking ship without ever having the courage to let go and learn how to swim.

Most importantly is having the courage to love them despite their fears and anxieties, and gently but firmly continue to do what you need to do to be happy regardless of how they may try to make you feel guilty for how they think you are "making them feel." You are not responsible for how they feel.

My parents thought I was crazy when I told them I was moving to Tibet. I was thirty. I sold my business and all my belongings and moved to the farthest reaches of the world. I managed to pay off the last of my student loans while earning $300/month there. And became more free than most people I know in this country. It was one of the biggest adventures of my life. They missed me. But they had their own lives to think about. I sent them updates.

And when I returned 3 years later and went straight from the airport to a remote fishing village on an island in Alaska... but by then I had been like this for more than a decade and they were simply waiting for the next installment in their own personal adventure story. Then I started circling the globe on a migration route, sailing across oceans, sending them more professional looking blogs, coming back for visits in between. They had no idea how I survived or how I paid for anything and I told them that we were never going to talk about money. So it never became an issue for us again. They became clearer over time that I was happy with my life. And stopped harassing me about it.
But my grandmother is still waiting for me to finally settle down, get married, do the normal routine. Some of them will simply have to keep waiting. And that's okay. We are not responsible for how they feel.

It makes it easier to find other nomads and have people you can share with - and most importantly realize you are not alone. Stand firm in who you are. In my opinion it is the best , and ONLY way (for ME) to be. And it is invigorating and satisfying in ways no career has ever inspired me. And in the end, it is not what you leave behind, but how well you used your time, that really matters.

Good Journey, fellow Nomad!
with gratitude and enthusiasm,
Aokha Skyclad, the Nomad Poet

Advices

If I was an old man and could give an advice to young people, or to a younger version of me, the advice would be:

DO MISTAKES


Do mistakes. Do not fear to fail. Just fail. Probably we can only learn important things from failure, from being brave, and from love. And these three things are so closely related to each other, that none of them could possibly exist without the others.

So, young myself and whoever wants to hear it: Fail. Just do it. Play. Fly. Jump. Start impossible projects. Build impossible houses. Dream alive, drive into streets with no exit, dance with your favorite phantoms, say incorrect things, forget the keys, talk to strangers, invite danger to dinner, break your own rules, write down your most inner philosophy and then change it. Do mistakes. Live while you're alive (:

Small logistics report

I was amazed by how material-consuming the Camino has been. Here is a small report of what survived and what didn't.

Backpack: Survived

1st pair of shoes: Destroyed.

2st pair of shoes: Bought on the go. Slightly damaged and worn out

Long pants: Absolutely destroyed.

Short pants: Brutally Destroyed.

Anti-rain pants: Bought on the go. Survived.

Socks: Survived.

Underpants: Severely damaged.

Coats: Survived.

Gloves: Lost.

Warm Cap: Lost.

Scarf: Lost.

2nd Cap: Found on the go. It was fantastic. Lost.

3rd Cap: Found on the go. I'll throw it away. It's horribly ugly.

Photo camera: Stupidly destroyed.

Mobile phone & mp3: Survived.

1st walking stick: Found on the go. Severly damaged and thrown away.

2nd walking stick: Found on the go. Survived.

Books, maps, juggling balls: Sent home.

Pillow: Given away

Compeed and other health stuff: Given away

Towel: Cut in half.

1st Sleeping bag: Probably infested. Thrown away.

2nd sleeping bag: Bought on the go. Survived.

Mat: Damaged by killer brambles

Santiago's shell: Survived!

Tent: Found on the go. Sent "home"

Biwak-bag: Bought on the go. About to be sold. (Anyone needing a biwak-bag?)

Small diary: Lost and found(phew)!

Big diary: Full.

1st Rain cape: Destroyed

2nd rain cape: Bought on the go. Pretty useless.

The last pics

That was the first step.

Thanks

The 14th August in the afternoon I arrived at Santiago. The 15th I took the bus to Cádiz, and the 16th the boat home. Two days later, I saw a very very weak Tenerife growing in the horizont. Home. I spend three hours outside, watching my island become larger and clearer, letting memories of very old times literally shake my soul. My way ended in Tenerife much more than it did in Santiago.

Since then, I'm HOME! Doing NOTHING! Absolutely NOTHING! Some friends of mine are starting to get angry because whatever they propose me to do, my answer is no.

I am enjoying SO much doing nothing. Just lying in the bed, or at the sun, reading a book, opening the fridge's door and seeing it full of meals and cold water. And I will need I think at least a week of this inactivity. What a great word, inactivity :P!


Now I'm going to do one of the things that I wanted to do as soon as I finished this way. Saying thanks.

You know, it is impossible extremely hard to walk 4 1/2 months without the help of other people. This was not my case. I have been very very lucky, and I have met a lot of nice souls that aided me when I appeared in their own Ways. People that invited me to sleep at their houses, that gave me food, that helped me in any sense. And now, here, I want to name them and remember once again all the things they shared.

There is no other order than the order in which memories arrive to my head.

Just before arriving at Santiago, I met a group of inspiring and inspired americans that were on their way to Santiago and afterwards to the World Youth Days in Madrid. They were very religious, very spiritual, and thought I am not a Christian myself, I loved the Way they lived their spirituality and the peaceful thought powerful way they were making their own searches. They asked me a lot of questions about my journey, they told me a lot of nice things that were fantastic to hear. The day we arrived, they invited me to a delicious mariscada in the best restaurant in Santiago. Not only the food was delicious, their company was touching, and when we ordered the dessert, they secretly told the waiter to put a candle on mine and they sang happy birthday. It was such a nice, surprising, sweet ending of the Way. Thank you so much (: God bless you!

Two great persons, whose names I have forgotten but not their essence, stay very clear in my memory: The guardians of the pelgrim's refuge at Heitenried, Switzerland. That day I was alone in the refuge. We had a great, deep conversation about life, philosophy, neurosciences and other. They gave me a fantastic warm dinner and a breakfast for free, and they gave me a very warm feeling and a peace that stayed with me for the whole way.

Much before that, in Hohenpeissenberg, Germany, I stayed at a small wooden house that a pelgrim had built in her garden. Talking to this woman was also very special, and it was perhaps the end of the beginning and the starting of the walk with its true rythm, more peacefully, more in contact with nature.

A couple of days after that, I arrived at another private refuge in Haid. The owner, a woman that had also gone all the way from Munich to Santiago, had prepared a room in her house for pelgrims. She was not going to be there the day I arrived, but she allowed me by phone to go in. It was so cute. So many details, so much love was in that room and in that house. The walls were full of poems, of images of the Way, of the wise words of those that have walked. I was impressed by their warmth.

In Fribourg, the first town of the french-speaking Switzerland, I was looking for an internet cafe. I wanted to make the first stop of the Way and write a little bit in the blog. At some point a woman came to me in the street and asked me to buy her some local newspaper to help disabled people or so (my french was extremely primitive back then). I declined, and when I continued walking she saw my shell on the bachpack. She asked me if I was doing St. Jacques and then gave me one as a present.
I can't buy it - i said
-It doesn't matter. It's for you.
Perhaps you can imagine the electricity that invaded me when I received this present from a street seller whose main income, I guess, was selling these newspapers. I still have the four sheets with me.
Some ten minutes later I found an internet-cafe one managed by a chilean man. Fribourg is a very metropolitan town. The man, named Luis if I'm not mistaken, was really amused when he saw me coming in with a huge backpack and a wooden stick. We talked and he allowed me to use Internet for free that day and the next. He said that he was impressed by my idea of walking to Spain.
In the same place I met a nicaraguan woman that was also very amused when she saw me coming in. I was asking them for cheap places to sleep, and she offered me staying at her house. I of course agreed, and was delighted to know her and her daugther better. That were two very relaxing and nice days. Thanks :D!

In Antichan de Frontignes, I was looking for a roof to sleep and I asked two people (Jeannete and Jean-Jacques) if I could stay under the roof of their garage. They managed to find a closed room for me, they invited me to dinner and breakfast, and we had a great conversation about politics and the world. They were communists, and had lived quite some experiences in WW2 and later. They were very, very kind to me, and I hope I can see them again one day.

Someone I could never forget was a man called Arnaud I met in the vicinity of Lautignac, not far from Toulousse. I originally wanted to write a whole post about him, but I missed the chance. This guy was living in a house he had built around a huge tree with his very own hands. The house was made only of natural materials like wood, dirt, and so on. He was living from selling fruits and vegetables from a garden he had and working in the forest, cutting wood, and so on. He was one of the few people I have met in life that was actually in peace. In peace with his existence, in peace with his surroundings, in peace with himself. He invited me to sleep at his place - you couldn't imagine how NICE his tree house actually was -. Arnaud is someone you can learn so much, SO much from him...

When I was walking with Sabine between Oviedo and Lugo, one day there was no place left in the refuges or whatsoever. No wonder, since it was already August. That day I had one of my 'good feelings'. You should know that, whenever I have this sensation inside of me, someone good is going to happen. It's years I have it and it has never failed. Well, when I realized there was no place left I told Sabine "we're going to ask everyone and everywhere until we get something nice for tonight". The very first person we asked took us to a fairytale-like village (Aguanes de Valdedor), lost in the middle of an impressive valley. We arrived there shortly after sunset, and it was like arriving to a story of dragons and wizards. Only a pitty that I didnt stay longer. They were also living from the earth, had their animals and plants...

August was awful to walk. It was very hot and very very full of people. At 14h you had no chance to get a bed anywhere. In contrast to that, once I arrived at a place where the guardian was surprised because there were two pelgrims at the same time.
It was in Cordes-sur-Ciel, a magnific mediaeval french town built on the top of a mountain, and exceptionally well conserved and restaurated. There was a monastery (One Communauté des Beatitudes) where I was told that I could perhaps stay for the night. I was ringing for like half an hour and noone appeared. When I had nearly lost hope and was going to search for some cold and wet place to sleep -it was raining and it was going to rain even more-, the door opened. A monk called Pièrre invited me in. It was a pleasure to talk to him. I wanted to make a post dedicated only to monks (and nuns), because they have another life rythm, they are the anti-pelgrims in the sense of antisymmetry: Their pelgrimage is staying at a place and "walking" to their inside. It was very insipiring to hear Pièrre's story and to get a feeling of his existence philosophy. He invited me to dinner, to breakfast, he gave me a tent from some pelgrim that had left it behind and didn't even mention the word money. I'm extremely thankful to this man.

Another nun that helped me was sister Johana, in Kempten. She was a severe-looking yet wise and welcoming nun. She liked that I was going to go to the very end of the Way and let me stay for free.

The most uncredible experiences I have made while on the Way were actually outside of it, when I left after Conques because the hordes of semi-pelgrims were driving me mad. I met Arnaud, whom I mentioned already, I met Jeannete and Jean-Jacques, and also these people:

There was a place called La Tour -I think before Villefranche de Rouergue, north of Toulousse- that consisted only of three houses-farms. I arrived when it was darkening, and I asked a man I saw there if I could sleep under cover somewhere. He told me yes, with the goats. The goats' floor was full of goat's shit and pee, and I politely declined. It was a wonderful clear evening and there was an abandoned, dry garage in the vicinity where I could sleep better. I decided to sit down and see the bleeding sunset before going to sleep, and then a french guy in my age appeared, sat next to me, and asked me why I was there and what was I doing. He invited me to sleep at his place, gave me dinner and breakfast, sang for me, played Rachmaninoff... It was a great, great night. He was a musician wanting to go to Berlin to study music. Hopefully I can help him when he is there!

Some days after that I was very close to arriving at Toulousse. It was one of these days where you arrive too early at one place to stop, but the next place is really far away, and you don't know if it's a better idea to stop or to continue. I continued until I arrived at Saint Sulpice. There was absolutely nothing free. I asked some people if they know some covered places, but they didn't know anything. It was getting dark and I decided to continue a bit and plant my tent anywhere in the fields before it's too late. But my guard angel was always with me, and the way there passed in front of a priest's house called Xavier. The house and the church were empty, and I was knocking everywhere to see if someone would hear me. Just before giving up, Xavier appeared and I asked if I could please please please sleep in the garage or wherever. He invited me in, gave me a bed and dinner and breakfast, we talked about life, philosophy, god, everything. He was such a wonderful host!

The day I finally arrived at Toulousse, I was searching for a bus or a train to get to the centre. Toulousse is enormous, and it is no fun to walk for hours throught industrial-commercial zones to get to a place to sleep. I had had enough aspahlt and I knew I would get even more in North Spain, so I decided to skip that ugly part. To my surprise, the train lines were shut down, and noone had made a bus line instead. The first man that I asked told me that, and further told me that if I waited five minutes, he would take me with the car to the youth hostal. That night at the hostal was great. Great. There were so cool people around from everywhere: Australia, USA, Switzerland, Iran....

After quitting Toulousse and heading finally to the Pyrinees, the very first evening a man with a bike drove by, saw my shell and asked if I was doing St. Jacques and if I know where I was going to sleep that night. He invited me to his house with her charming little Carla, he gave me dinner, breakfast, and a lot of good energies for the way and for the Pyrenees...

The next evening the weather was terrible. Really terrible. And there were very few places you could sleep in. I arrived at a wonderful and expensive-looking Chambres d'hôte, absolutely wet and exhausted, and I asked the owner, Dominique Yon, how much it would cost to sleep one night. He told me the price, which was very expensive (but not too expensive for the place, that was really really nice). I tried to bargain a bit, and he accepted making a special price for me. That day I really really needed a bed, and it was very kind of him letting me in. Some days later some other owner of some other Chambres d'hôte didn't even let me sleep in the garage, paying half of the price of the room.

In Bagnères-de-Louchon, the place where I joined the GR10, the owner of an hotel also let me stay for a lower price. He was a very kind and polite man, and I hope he has a lot luck with his business and with his life.

At a place called Cauterets, in the Pyrenees, the owner of the Gîte de Etappe "Beau Soleil" was impressed by my journey and let me sleep for free. He, too, was a peaceful, wise, very kind man. I will have to return there.

The people of the Gîte "Les Violets Bleus" at Decazeville, were very friendly to me. I made a stop there, and that was the place whre I decided "tomorrow I'm leaving the Way and heading south. I cannot stand this anymore". They showed me maps and routes I could take to go to Toulousse and afterwards to the pyrinees, and let me stay the second night for free. They had built the Gîte with their very own hands and I left wanting to know even more from them. They agreed with me that the Way was not the same as in the beginning. It's getting more and more touristic. I hope they're doing fine over there.

My friend Marina and her mother let me stayed at their house in Galizano (near Santander) for the longest break I have made in the Way. I have no words to express my gratitude. They were really sweet, they treated me like a king, and our conversations still stay inside of me. Gracias, guapas (:

My people in Munich gave me such a warm welcome when I arrived. It was great to feel once again a bit like home when I arrived at the student residence. Seeing them was a great present for the beginning.

I said there was no order here, but I lied a little bit. At the end of this list I want to thank wholeheartly, from the deepest of my being, the people that donated money when I asked for it in the Pyrenees. It touched my innermost string. Thanks to them, I was able of finishing my way without any further financial trouble. I will always be thankful and in debt. Please come to me whenever I can do anything for you (: These people were:
Ana Maria T., an old family friend with whom we spent a lot of vacations together, when I was just a kid and she said I was an old soul, and someone I haven't seen now for a real long while.
Dominik T., great university friend from me and future nobel prize - no kidding here: remember this name!
Eva J., my last (and best) biology teacher at school, a woman that knows a lot about the world and someone that always believed in me (:
Giannis N. and Natasa T., great friends I made in the MPI for radio astronomy. Funny greeks, deep souls, unique people. I really want to go for a beer with them again (:
Katharina Z., a lovely girl that for a year shared floor with me in my last student house in Munich. She let me her room for the days before starting, and her husband will be a very happy man one day, because she can cook as heaven ;)
Juha K., the guy that lived in my munich's room after I left. A very deep soul, a pelgrim his way (:
Marion L., a woman with whom I have shared a lot of mystic experiences and who has an uncredible inner strength and willpower.
My very very good friend Sabine B., a PERSON in capital letters, that knows so much about the world and the people. An open heart, a great listener, a really brave and real woman that is fighting her way now to herself and to a lifestyle free from society's expectations on one. I have so much to thank her.

I want to say also a special thanks to all these people that have believed in me in the good and the bad times. Throught my life, I have met persons that told me that I was going to reach my dreams, that they deeply believed in me, that they wished me the best with their hearts. Persons of my family, of my friends, teachers of mine... I have had these people very present. And it's been a really nice present what they have given me (:

To all you...
Thank you so much (:


I'm sure that I am forgetting people. But it's not meant bad (: Right now, and nearly every day of my pelgrimage, I have been invaded by a feeling of gratitude towards everything, be it man or woman or stone or tree or water drop or star or sun or mountain or....

It's life. This is life. It's here, and it's now.



You see, a man is walking alone, but there are hundreds of invisible hands behind him, holding his back. To all of you, thank you the Infinite. You did my Way.

ZERO

I'm here.

FOUR

I've just arrived at Lugo. But in four days or less, I will be
there.





I have skipped sleeping in the refuges. There are a lot of small churches and chapels in the way that offer some shelter against the wind and against the rain. I'm a church-sleeper right now, trying to avoid the waves of pelgrims, that walk all together with a difference of some hours.

I have so much to write that I won't even try. It will take me weeks to write down all what is happening in me. But I'll let you something to make yourself an idea:








(But only the refrain :)







Oh, and after a chain of things that have happened, I'm going to try playing lottery. If I become a millonaire, I'm going to give all the people that helped me their money back, not once but five times. So you can start praying (: And counting.
FOUR
(or... THREE?)

Like someone commented, I'll be arriving at Santiago (or at the ship for Tenerife) the day of my birthday. Unbelievable.

The Countdown

I'm in a place called Grandas. It's less than 250 Km from Santiago.

250 Km is a week at good speed.

Ergo I'm less than a week away from Santiago.

Less than a week.





























































































This feels really strange. It really doesn't feel like the Way was coming to its end.

The landscapes right now are absolutely different as I had imagined. A lot of mountains without trees, they remind me of some parts of eastern France and the basque Pyrenees.

It's August, the Camino and specially the refuges are all full. It's race or die if you want to sleep on a bed (I always choose die), people stay up very early, walk very fast with little or no interruptions and take all available beds from the next refuges before 13h. Many people are really unpolite and stay up really early making as much noise as a drunk elephant would, and others arrive at midnight from the bar. I have chosen to do the "Camino primitivo", which is supposed to supply Santiago with less than 5% of the pelgrims (Check here, here you can see how many pelgrims have arrived today. Right now it says 771. I fear that numbers.) Still, you see, there is not the best pelgrim spirit around...

So, it doesn't really feel like this is coming to its end. But it does.

It does!!!!

In the last days/weeks I have been having an internal discussion with myself. Should I finish this or should I return home inmediatly? I have already found what I wanted to find, and the stories you hear here about the classic way, which I will have to join soon to arrive at Santiago, are really scary. It was my decission to come here by foot, and it could be my decision to leave now. I'm not walking for anyone else.

But... On the other hand... I'm so close now (: !!

So, I have had a lot of headaches in the last days because of that. My friend Sabine, that has walked with me these days, has had a loooot of patience, has heard all my complains, and knows now all and each of my arguments in favor and against ending the Way. Thank you, Sabine (:



However, it seems that it is Santiago who is walking towards me and not me towards it, since I'm still here and now that I now that it is only some FIVE days more I want to go more than ever! I'm nearly done!!

I'm going to enjoy arriving and then travelling with the bus SO much. SO much.


Now let me tell you some very nice things that have happened.
Yesterday when we arrived at our destination (we did an extremely hard day of 47 km) everything was full, even the floor of the church. No surprise, but when we talked to a local, she told us that she was living on a small village (take a look!!) and she could drive us with the car there. We accepted very happily, and we arrived at a place that was like a fairytale. We drove trought a dirt road, and walked even a while more throught the woods and next to giant stone walls. The village itself was nothing more than three stone houses, one of them half destroyed. But the sky was so dark and blue, the moon so white, and the small lights that you could see inside the house so inviting... It was really like being in a legend!

I feel like my inspiration is not at its full power today. So I'm continuing another day. I cannot upload more pics, since my camera is dead. And so will be my pants soon, I fear... At the end of this journey I will make a list with all the list that havn't survived the walk. You'll be surprised.

, , ,

Here I am! In Asturias! It's the last province of Spain before Galicia!

The last few days have turned out to be the motivationally hardest days since the very beginning. It's nearly 4 months now that I started. We're already in August, much more time has passed than I thought I would need to arrive (that's the price of taking a trip throught the Pyrenees!) and, to be honest, what I would love right now is to be at HOME and SLEEP continously for two or three years. To sit and read a grerat book, to don't give a sh** about the weather or the water or the food or whatever. To be able of going to bed at 11 without problem. To rest.

As always, the biggest problems are always inside of you.

Man, man.

There is another circumstance that I wasn't counting with here in north Spain. The Way follows the beaches, of course. And who is in the beaches of north Spain in the middle of the summer? A lot of wonderful surfers from all over the world. Trained and tanned bodies coming out from the wild waves, like some sort of rare sea angels (that fully ignore you). And after four months of walking alone and seeing only cows, rocks and sheeps, so many beautiful girls around turn out to be as great as cruel.


So, let's keep walking! It's only some 500 km now!!! I want to arrive!!!!!!!!!! :P

And now the good news:


My signature.


Good morning, world.


The sea is undeniable.
The cantabrian-asturian-vasque(-galician) coast is so breathtaking. I am constantly leaving the official Way of Saint James to continue just next to the sea. But you need two or three days for each 5 km. You see beaches and cliffs like this ALL the time.


You don't believe it, do you? (This place has the unspeakable name of San Juan de Gaztelugatxe, in the Vasque Country. You have to quit the Way to see this - Some of the nicest places of my Way have been actually not in the official path... Isn't it inspirational?)


This guy was living in San Juan de G. and deserves a full post. You can image just by looking at the pic, don't you ;)?


An average pelgrim shelter (refugio)


The Atlantic Ocean. The Wind. All the spirits of nature blowing so hard that you could lean against the wind and don't fall.


Yeah.
I'd love to jump from there into the water.


Y del trueno al son violento y del viento al rebramar, yo me duermo sosegado, arrullado por el mar.


Cantabria rocks. Do you see the eagle near the middle of the pic? I was standing there, shouting and singing and saying poetry, when that eagle flied by, really close. I was delighted. A second later, the next passed by. And the next. And the next. Four, five, six, ten, twenty eagles just ten meters from me, you could hear the wind in their wings, fffffffffff, flying over the sea.... It was like nature saying 'hello´(:




Good night, world. Sun is setting at about 22.30 - uncredibly late! In my first day in Munich, the sun was setting at 20h!






I'm not sure if they're fishing ships or the souls of ancient vikings remembering their arrival at this coast.


The camp where I was. Kids are so refreshing (for a short while, of course :)


Marina, in the middle, and her guitar.


Ernesto.


A soul made of fire.


Unmounting the camp. All those people are volunteers.




(...)




The vegetation, the stone, the mountains and their form, the smell of the air, everything is different!


This girl, Sabine, was living with me in Bonn. By chance we met here and we walked some days together. It's uncredible what happens on this Way...


Sabine walks.


Another day begins!


You gotta move, child, you gotta move!

Even further

Here I am! In Santander!

I have just made an untypically long stop of four days. And I was so close to giving up. So close to taking the bus and just stopping this. Because, people, I am really exhausted now. My energy is coming to its end. But the good news are that they will probably last for the last 3 weeks!! Perhaps this weakness is some kind of psychopathological effect. The goal comes closer... And the last kilometers turn out to be perhaps the hardest, at least motivationally speaking.

I stopped at the house of my great friend Marina. Since I was like 15, she was always telling me from a great refuge in Cantabria where she was volunteering sometimes. She told me so many good things about it, that I was expecting my arrival al this refuge (La Cabaña del abuelo Peuto, in Güemes) to be one of the highlights of the Way. And it was. Oh yes, it was.

I can count with the fingers of one hand how often I was welcomed so warmly in a refuge. It felt like arriving to a place where old friends were waiting for you. Uncredibly warm. There were a lot of people from nearby villages helping with everything: Cooking, cleaning, everything.

The man that started the refuge a lot of years ago (Ernesto) is an old priest that has travelled throught all South America, working in the gold and zinc mines and in the fields high in the Andian Mountains. He has such an inspiring aura.

The moment I crossed the door of the refuge I wrote an sms to Marina and told here I had arrived at her refuge. Imagine how my face did look like when a couple of hours later she arrives. I was thinking that she would be in Tenerife, but she arrived at Cantabria the very same day that I reached the Refuge. Come on. This things only happen in books and in the Camino.

We went to a camp that Ernesto and friends and collaborators organized for children. It was great to be there. It brought me back some forgotten childhood memories. And it made me remember that someone in my family has been missioneering in Brazil (in the Amazonas) for quite a long time, and perhaps it is about time to get back in contact with him. I've been thinking for a while about travelling to South America. Perhaps my next long trip will be to the Amazonas? A new form of pelgrimage, of discovery?

I'm going to bed. Someone please tell the God of the Rain to stop making vacations in north Spain!

The Big Ocean, The Solitude & The Big Thanks

Guys, Do you know where I am right now?
Yes. I am in SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


First of all:
I am amazed.
There are several reasons for being amazed, but there is one that I want to mention at the very beginning:

Thank you.

Thqnk you a lot.

Thank you from here to Santiago and back to Munich and up into deep space and

Thank you with each small piece of my soul.

Thanks, friends.

I have received a LOT of help from some extremely, extremely generous people since I asked for financial help some days (weeks?) ago. I am extremely touched, I have tears in my eyes right now. I hope I can give back the favor to all you when you need it and also when you don't need it, but I can do it for you.

I'd like to tell you something that makes these donations even more magical.

There are two feelings that in all languages I know are described by the same word:
Solitude.

In my eyes, this is a huge mistake. You don't need to be a master of Zen to recognize that there are two kinds of solitude, the good and the bad one.

The good one is what I came here to search for. You are alone, in the middle of nature or wherever, you are a part of something ancient, omnipresent, you don't need words to communicate with the World. You communicate with your only existence. Good solitude lies somewhere between peace and happiness.

But bad solitude is one of the worst things that can happen to you. As thinking and conscient beings, it is more important to us how we think that things are than how things really are. Some people cannot go into the sea because the big waves scare the hell out of them: And some other people don't only go into the waves, they actually take a Surf board with them and play with them. There are people that work several hours a day in a mine, and others that are claustrophobic. People that run scared when they see a spider and people who eat spiders. People rich as kings that seem to be always unhappy and poor people that walk smiling through life.

And there are people that are loney and people that feel lonely.

It doesn't matter how reality is, it depends only how it looks to you.

The other day at Saint-Jean-Pied de Port I met an american girl of my age. She had arrived with a friend the day before to start the Way, and after a chain of very bad coincidences she found herself alone, without bank card or money (it was national day in the US, so there was no chance of calling there and solving the problems), and without knowing the language of a foreign country. And without the person she had made the way there with. She was really scared and worse than that, she was feeling really, really lonely. No one around that could help her. That's the way she was feeling.

To my eyes, she was already saved:
The people of the refuge had offered her an extra free night and food, she had become money from me and some other people, some 55 € in total, more than enough for surviving good some days, calling home, getting money or a bank card or whatever and continue the Way. The people sourrounding her were willing to help her, the refuge's guardians would for sure allow her to stay some more nights or arrange some solution, there were not many but some people like me that could serve as translators, and well... In some days everything would have been OK. But she was terribly lonely.

At the beginning, since I have had quite often the feeling of "shit, nothing is working, I want to go home, I'm tired, I'm lost, please help", I tried to explain her my best self-boosting arguments, the ways that allow me to continue when there is no more energy left.

I wanted to help her to continue, which is what I needed. To continue to the very end.

You see, it is often difficult to hear what people really need and not to confuse the needs of other's with our own needs projected in them.

For I was telling her: "Look, you have money, you have food and a dry bed, you have friends, this is going to work out, just hold on some more time and then you will be able to continue to Santiago"

But all she wanted was to escape her bad solitude. She wanted to go home, she wanted to talk to someone that felt familiar. I tried everything, and you know what helped her, what made her collapse and cry and see the light at the end of the tunnel and say thank you thank you thank you?

It was going to a shop, buying a phone card and calling her family in the US. Talking to them. She started crying and let all her pain out at the very moment that she heard a known voice. That was all she needed to boost her hope.

You see, the bad solitude.


Well, the price of lots of good solitude is, at some point, the bad solitude. Everyone has different needs of good solitude, and even the fanatics like me that go into a 4-month long walk through the most desert roads they can find and climb up mad mountains just to sit at their top and feel their body full of electricity and energy come to a point where they feel lonely.

Remember I said the other day that I wanted to talk about the dark sides of the Way?

In the middle of the Way, at Cordes-sur-Ciel (Cordes over the sky, ain't that a wonderful name for a town?), a pelgrim gave me his tent because he didn't wanted to carry it anymore. I loved that. I was hoping for that moment! A tent!! Full freedom!!!

Well, to my surprise, the first night in my tent was really sad. I was feeling horribly lonely. I was exhausted, it was windy and going to rain, I didn't know if the tent wouls stand it, it was cold. My mind was full of memories of much much warmer nights that din't help much to feel better. I would have loved to talk for ten minutes to someone I knew. Ey man, how you're doing, everything is fine, let's go for a beer this weekend, see ya. That would have made it.


This is from my diary:

When it's cold in the tent and the floor is rocky you feel lonely.
When you never have the money to pay the dinner and at night you are always eating your two-days old bread with cheap cheese while everyone is having fun at their fine soup and their steak... You feel lonely
When beautiful girls pass by, accompained by some unknown guys... You feel lonely
When memories of much warmer nights in much more beautiful places hit you like an invisible wall... Hell, you're lonely.
When after 80 days of walking you still have no fucking idea of what to do with your life, you're really lonely.


You are in a different state of mind and soul than the "normal" person when you seek for solitude like I have done. Some days I was meeting less than 5 persons, and I talked more than five minutes with only one of them, the guardian of the refuge. You know how terrible it can be if the only person you have a conversation with in the whole day, maybe in two days, says you something that hurts you? Something like "You need a fork? Well, Mr. Autonomy is not as autonomous as he seems, is he?" - Or "80 days from Munich? That's pretty slow. You aren't in a hurry, are you?"
It can absolutely screw your day.


In the same manner, there are days that walking angels appear to be in your way. In two occassions I met farmers with their cars. The stopped as they passed by and they asked what I was doing and where I was going. They were amused and impressed by my story and they wished the best and drove on. After five minutes they returned with the car. They had cheese, cookies, milk, bread, they had brought it for me.

Can you imagine what that means to me? An unexpected plastic bag with cheese, cookies and bread? Can you feel the way my eyes open, the amazing size of that present they are making? Can you understand the message, the energy, the magic these persons can share with me with that simple things?

Let's recall: While in the pyrinees, I met few people. I met few civilization. It was not evident if I would find food or drinking water this day or even the next two or three. There were no villages nearby ( < 3,4h by foot) to search for help. Weather was not forgiving up there. It was pure nature, all the good, and all the bad things.

In short: It was hard. Very hard. And these people knew it. And when they saw me there, their reaction was to gave me something that would give me the confidence to make another day through the wonderful and wild mountains, something that would definetly aid to kill the bad solitude, the nights of being afraid in the tent when thunders were falling, the days where you had to climb 1500 m under the hell of a sun, the days were you were wishing so hard, SO HARD to receive a hug, a kiss, a caress, to be in the arms of someone that loved you and said it silently in your ears.

With their cheese and cookis these people were saying hold on, man. Punch that bad solitude in the face. Hold on. You're doing it. You really fucking came here from Munich, you will do that huge mountain over there, keep on fighting, I appreciate your walking, I want to help you, I believe in you and I walk with you in thougts, do it, man, walk, continue, do it, fight, you're winning, man, you are making your way to your dreams.

And THESE things are the biggest presents I have ever received in my life.

And the people that gave me some money when I asked for it were saying the very same things, holding my back against the wind, helping me with the logistics but much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much more with the soul. Each donation was saying: We trust you, Samuel, you're doing it, we're proud, do it your Way. You may be alone and cold tonight but your friends are out there and wish you the Best.

And it makes me cry. Thank you (:

And well, I wanted to talk a bit about the Ocean.. Seeing it was uncredibly. But I'll let the pic talk:

(After nearly 100 days.... The Ocean. Home.)




(Good morning, world)




(To me, this looked like a ship that was anti-wrecking


SPAAAAAAAAAAAAIN!!!!!!!!!!!! :D



Some phrases from songs or poems I have in my mind:
" Corazón solo por el planeta, sembrando flores en la tormenta "
" Pero el viajero que huye tarde o temprano detiene su andar "


Some songs that follow me



Mercedes Sosa - Milonga por él , Galopa Murrieta, Canción para Carito















And now, to finish with this slightly melodramatic post, to boost you all in your Way throught life and to reaffirm my will to arrive in less than one month to the very End of Europe, come what come, lonely or not, with heat or rain or thunder, please play the following song very,
very
loud.



'cause

(I)(You)(We) will always go the next step



(Thanks again, cool people of all colours, shapes and languages :D!)
(Oh, and some interesting news: I had to take some important decisions on the way here. I am leaving physics. I am landing in Madgeburg (southwest of Berlin), and I will give Neurosciences a big try. It was a hard decision between Tübingen and Madgeburg... That's it. Let's walk.)