Author: Kathy Dansky
“Remember that I have commanded you to be determined and confident! Do not be afraid or discouraged, for I, the Lord your God, am with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9)
For my 70th birthday, I decided to hike the Camino de Santiago. Why? I don’t really have a good answer. I wouldn’t describe myself as “adventurous” but I really wanted to do this. Deep down inside, I felt like I was being called to test myself on the Camino. I found a group based at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church in Fort Collins that was planning a trip in May, 2017, and signed up with them. After several months of meetings and hiking together as part of our training, I was ready!
Santiago de Compostela is the capital of northwest Spain’s Galicia region and is the alleged burial site of the Biblical apostle St. James. For centuries, the Camino has been a pilgrimage for a variety of reasons, primarily spiritual. Many paths lead to Santiago.Our journey began in St. Jean Pied dePort, a small town on the France side of the Pyrenees.
After a dinner of fresh river trout and a good night’s sleep, all 22 of us convened at the center of the little town. The minister of St. Luke’s led us in a prayer and our guide handed out rough sketches for the first day’s journey, across the Pyrenees. There were two routes across the mountains – the Orrison route, which was the shorter of the two, but very steep, and the Valcarlos route, which was longer (27 KM) and still very mountainous, but not as steep as the traditional Orrison route. A friend had hiked the Camino the previous year and stressed that the Orrison route was very hard on the knees. He recommended the Valcarlos route, so I listened to him.
Debbie, our guide, asked each person to indicate which route he or she would take, so she would know what time to expect us in Roncavalles (on the other side of the mountains). I said “Valcarlos.” Every single one of my companions chose “Orrison.” Then Debbie pointed in two different directions and told us it was time to start. My stomach plummeted as I realized I would be completely on my own for the entire day.
I was in good spirits as I started out. The first few hours were in a forested area with gently rolling hills and valleys of farmland. I made good progress, and found the first stop (for coffee and bathroom) without any problem. After 4 hours, I reached Valcarlos. I was in Spain! I stopped for lunch and ordered “tortilla” (an egg pancake) in my limited Spanish. There were a few hikers in the café but otherwise, the village was deserted.
Finding the trail out of Valcarlos was easy, and the route was well-marked with the yellow Camino arrow. It quickly led into the forest and I was suddenly plunged into dense groves of tall trees that blocked out the sunlight. Not a person in sight. No sweat, I thought, just follow the trail. But the trail got narrower, and narrower, with a steep ravine on my right side and a river at the bottom. The water was moving along quite rapidly. Up until this point, I was using my poles, but the path was so narrow I could barely fit my two big feet on them. So I carried the poles, which made the footing even more tenuous. It was muddy and rocky. I looked down at the river and realized that I could easily slip and fall into it, and nobody would find me for days or weeks! That’s when I started praying. I went through all of the prayers that I knew from memory, even the rosary. Since I was all alone, I prayed out loud. When that got tiresome, I sang all of the hymns I could remember, going back to my Catholic school days, with songs about Mary. After an hour or two, I was emotionally and physically exhausted. I didn’t have the strength to keep going. I knew I had to let go of the fear and trust God. This was the turning point for me.
I was called to trust God and I listened. Being a “1” on the Enneagram, I typically felt like I needed to be in control. That was simply not possible today. Letting go and trusting God gave me the courage to breathe calmly and continue. The next few hours were hard, physically, but I felt determined and confident. I made it over the Pyrenees, with swollen feet and aching muscles, and the realization that this was, truly, one of my most important life lessons.
