Carrying Fears

14 Days and 201 Miles

“On the Camino, the baggage you carry is your fears.”

My Camino friend Monique quoted this to me when we were talking together on day five or six. It is from a documentary she watched on the Camino de Santiago. She watched the movie before she committed to this trek, and was reminded of his words several days in. She realized quickly that she was carrying too much, and the first chance she got, she sent her unnecessary items onto Santiago where they will be held for her at the post office.

“Kristine, your bag is so BIG!” Camino friend Ashlyn,  said to me a few days later, after walking a couple of hours together. She was right. I had noticed by then that people were carrying much smaller backpacks. Some peregrinos choose to walk with a daypack and have their belongings transported by car to their next destination. Of course, my pack would be bigger than theirs. But my pack seemed bulkier and bigger than many Pilgrims who were carrying all they needed with them.

“I know,” I said to Ashlyn. “But I use everything in my bag.”

Hmmmm…my defense was true, yet did I NEED to use everything in my bag? No. No, I did not.

Yesterday was rough. ROUGH! I walked 30.1 (Yes, I am counting the .1 because it hurt, and it counts.) kilometers on very tired legs. I wanted to have a shorter day yesterday, but the way the day played out and where beds and rooms were available dictated I walk farther than I wanted to. Also, we have entered la Meseta. This is the part of Spain that is flatter, with less shade, and with fewer towns and services. Many peregrinos skip this part. I have also heard that it is the section for “breakdowns and breakthroughs.”

Yesterday was somewhere in between for me. I found myself walking for over an hour without anyone else in sight on the trail. Wheat colored grass expanded in all directions for as far as I could see. It was hot. I was tired. And I was wrestling with myself and my backpack.

“I cannot keep carrying all this STUFF.” I was saying to myself with frustration bordering on desperation, taking inventory of what I had and what I really, really, really needed and what I was carrying out of fear. (I know I was also referring to those things that are not physical.) Turns out that quite a bit of stuff in my pack is there just in case, or out of comfort or habit or because I didn’t quite trust everything would be okay.

Trust. Yeah, sometimes that is a challenge for me.

When I arrived at the Albergue yesterday, Monique and Ashlyn were already there, showered and enjoying their post-walk beverages. I dropped my pack and sat down, needing to regroup before hauling my massive pack up to the second floor bunk room.

“I’d like to send some stuff to Santiago tomorrow,” I said to Monique. “Can you help me translate?”

“Yes,” Monique said. “I have some more stuff to send as well. I thought I had lightened my load enough, but it turns out, I have some more stuff I can get rid of.”

Don’t we all.

The three of us, Ashlyn, Monique, and me, took a much needed semi-rest day today. We walked less than 10 kilometers to Castrojeriz where we have all enjoyed the beautiful weather, hill top views, and long siestas.

The post office in Castrojeriz is open from 10:55-11:15 every day. Those are the real hours. I swear. We arrived at 11:25, and there was no sign of life. We were out of luck and need to hold on to our excess stuff and the fears they represent one more day. UGH!

Tomorrow, we walk to Fromista, and after securing a bed at the Albergue Municipal, we will head to the post office. Monique will lighten her load even more, and I will let go of a power block that is useless because I don’t have the right cord for my phone, clothes that I don’t really need, a book that I brought and haven’t read, hydration tabs that I don’t use because there is this magical drink called Aquarius that is way better and I don’t have to carry it because they sell it everywhere, and a journal that I have not written in once yet. My mood lightens as I think about carrying less the day after tomorrow. My feet, knees, and hips will thank me.

Two days ago, as we walked into Burgos, Camino friend Patrice said, referring to the rest of the day, “We’ll see,” with a shrug. “Providence,” he said, which is the same in French as it is in English.

Providence, trust, faith—it may seem silly to link these big themes with letting go of a few shirts and a power block, yet for me, shipping things I may need and trusting I will be okay is an exercise in trust. I can trust that it will be okay to wear the same two things for the next 20 days and that if my phone dies I won’t die and that an Aquarius is always the next town away.