Monday, 23 November 2015

Chapter 1 - May 1st - Day 1


May 1st - Day 1
I woke up this morning, May 1st, in St. Jean Pier de Port, France, eager to start up the Pyrenees.  I have no idea what this journey entails but I think I am ready.  Within the first few steps of this pilgrimage my mind set off, on its own journey.  Instantly the stories of my life with Robin began to circulate, as I begin this path, I remember how my life with Robin first began.
In 1995 I was working in a furniture store in downtown Vancouver.  For entertainment, my co-workers and I would watch the construction workers as they laboured on the high rise building next door.  There was one tall good looking man with long hair that we kept a closer eye on.  His enthusiasm and energy was palpable and his good looks and big smile kept us entertained.
A moment forever etched in my mind occured when this man and I each crossed the road from opposite directions.  As we passed each other in the middle of the road on Cambie and Nelson in Vancouver, his deep brown eyes pulled me in and I knew somehow our futures were interlinked.  That day was over 20 years ago but in this very moment it feels like it happened a moment ago.

A few days after this memerable moment, I again passed him as he was working on the building and our eyes met again. He said in what I thought was an Australian accent, "A news paper has gone awry in front of your store, if you get a bag I will clean it up for you".  I got him a plastic bag and thanked him.  He said, "Anything for you" and quickly left.  I and the other saleswomen giggled and went about our business.
Later that day we saw him approaching the entrance with a rose in hand.  He handed me the rose and said, "In case I never see you again, can I have a hug?"  I gave him a small hug while looking over his shoulder at my co-workers who were smirking.  I learned his name was Robin and I told him my name was Charlene and he was gone in a flash.  Of course I was teased for the rest of the day by my friends.  
I could barely breathe and felt like I was walking on a cloud.  I could not believe the storybook scene that had just transpired in my life. 

St. Jean to Roncesvalles - 24 km

I stayed in an albergue, a hostel for pilgrims, last night so I could get up this morning and start walking. My girlfriend, Laura met me in Marseille a few days earlier, then we took the train and bus to St. Jean, one of the many access points of the Camino.  Laura is taking the bus around the Pyrenees while I walk over them. We were issued our passports yesterday so all I have to do is get up, have breakfast and go. I have done lots of hiking and training so I am not too worried about the walking, what worries me is being away from home for so long.  I am in France and donʼt know any French and will be in Spain tonight and donʼt know any Spanish.  I now wish I would have practiced the languages at least a little.  I have never been to Europe before, actually, I have never been away from home longer than 10 days. I came with my friend Laura, but as she is retired, she can take her time, so I think I will be doing most of this walk on my own. 




The journey ahead is 800 km long. I have a small guide book but no idea where I will stay each night, I have no idea where I am going, and I have no idea how everything will work out, my future is a complete mystery. 
All those worries start to fade as I take my first steps up this very steep grade. Joining me are many other pilgrims on the same journey, I am delighted to be joined with a Canadian family from Vancouver and an American recovering from lung cancer, who speak English.  I realize right away that I am a very slow walker and everyone else has a much faster pace then I do. The passing pilgrims chat briefly with me, then say “Buen Camino” and are on their way.
I feel like I am in a dream as I walk past the vibrant green pastures dotted with cows, horses and sheep, with the sounds of the cow bells chiming at random intervals. I feel elated!  I am actually doing this!  I have started something that I said I would do, I didnʼt just plan an adventure and forget, I am here walking this very minute.



I don't know if I am going to walk the full 24 km over the Pyrenees today or stop at the 9km mark where there is an albergue.  Arriving at the 9 km mark it starts to sprinkle, the cool rain feels refreshing as it hits my hot sweating body, proof of a hard steep climb.  We have already climbed to an elevation of 650 mts in 9 km; we started at 170 m above sea level.  With this accomplishment behind me I feel I am able to get to the next albergue in a monastery in Roncesvalles, no problem. So I continue to climb upwards.
Unfortunatily a storm has begun to hit us hard.  The wind is causing the rain to pelt our faces at a 45 degree angle, prompting everyone to put their tarps on to cover themselves and their backpacks, which have now became kites in the wind, more of a hinderance then a help.  It is cold and in patches there is still snow on the path.  I can see the other pilgrims in the distance transversing up the mountain; the only thought that passes through my mind is, ‘there is no way I will be able to make it to where they are’.  
I reach that exact spot I thought unattainable, I feel a twinge of accomplishment, until I stop and look up to reassess my location.  I thought I must be close to the top of the mountain range. But no!  I see my fellow pilgrims way in the distance, they are continuing to transverse their way further and further into what seems like heaven.  I tell myself if I got here one step at a time, I can get there one step at a time. I feel the pull forward. There is no way I am going to walk back to St. Jean, if I want a bed to sleep in tonight I need to make it to Rosensvallious. 
I notice in the guide book there is a safety shelter, coming up soon, where I can get a break from the weather for a bit and have some of the food I have tucked away in my backpack.  This pulls me forward.  As I see it approaching I can feel the relief in my legs already.  Visualizing taking off my pack and sitting down sounds so lovely.  Relieved to finally get here I open the door to find it so jam packed with pilgrims standing together like sardines, sheltered from the rain, that I can't even fit in the door; so I carry on in the rain and wind.
I have never experienced such a hard hike in my whole...entire... life and I am from Canada, we have some pretty hard hikes.  This is beyond any experience I have ever endured.  My camera has stopped working so I can’t take any pictures to share this personal experience. I stand here looking at my limited view due to the fog, and it hits me. I am here again. Feeling it all over with each breath. I am reliving the hardest day of my life. I am back in the storm. I wanted out then and I want out now, but I know it will take me one step at a time to get me to where I need to go, just as it did when Robin died. 
The pain of everything is hitting me hard. I am in a strange land and territory, I am completely alone, yet surrounded by so many people.  This is uniquely my experience because of what is going on inside of me, not for what was happening outside of me. Every feeling I left home to escape is rushing back. I am on this mountain in the middle of a storm, feeling all the same feelings I left home to escape.
Everything feels hopeless, I don't think I can make it through. There are emergency numbers on posts every 50m or so and I wonder if I am going to be one of the people that needs to phone the emergency number. The only problem is I didnʼt bring any technology with me so how am I going to call if I need help. I am going to have to ask someone to call for me but what if I can’t communicate to them because I don’t know their language?
Why am I doing this to myself!?  Do I like to torture myself?  I did this to heal my pain, not to make it worse. This was a mistake. The only difference about being on this mountain struggling forward is that I have no one else to think about but me. I am on this mountain feeling only my pain.  I thought this would have been easier but it is even harder and I have never felt so heavy.  Every step I take feels impossible with this pack on my back and the storm pushing against my every step.  Every thought that goes through my head weighs me down even further.  I read the guide book, nothing prepared me for the difficulty of this walk. As I continue to trudge on, I make it to the top and my direction heads downwards. There is no celebration, no truimph.  It is very anticlimactic as the downward journey feels harder then the uphill climb, now all the pressure goes to my feet and my knees.    
I can't even tell you how good it feels to see the monastery in the distance but again my pain is not eased on arrival; as I have to wait in line for over an hour, soaking wet.  Upon being assigned a room, they informe me the monestary is full and I am sent to some portables in the woods.  Exhausted I wash my clothes, have a shower in a flooded portable, go to the pilgrims mass, eat dinner, find my bed and instantly fell asleep.

Just breath
The parallel of my two experiences is eerie. I came to see where my life was headed and what I should do next and I have ended up exactly where I started, grieving again. Why? 
At home my job is palliative care, I work with people who are dying and not one of those experiences prepared me for how difficult Robinʼs death would be.  The day he died was absolutely the worst day of my life!  I couldnʼt have been more shocked, in pain, helpless or alone feeling. I was alone even though I was surrounded by so many people.  There were loving supportive people everywhere and I still can not remember who was there doing what, everything was a fog.
Remembering the first moment I looked into Robin's eyes until the moment I heard the news about his death, every memory blended into one big blur that I could not make sense of.  There have been highs and lows within the 18 years that we have been together, each moment now a treasure.  With the shock of Robin's death looming over me, I had no idea how I was going to get through a single moment, let alone a day, or a week, I wondered how I would ever get through this experience.  
The only way I got through, those first days, after Robin’s death, was exactly the way I got through today;  I kept breathing, taking one step at a time, through the mystery of what was becoming.  





1 comment:

  1. Beautifully written! What a beautiful parallel between two time periods!

    ReplyDelete