Santa Irene (Spain) | The Human Radio - Day 121

I included this photo from yesterday. Unfortunately, I could not capture it adequately due to the time of the day. There is a quaint little tractor and trailer parked under the tree. I tried from many angles but could not get anything more than just a dark shadow under the tree.

Day 36 takes me from Boimorto to Santa Irene. The stage is 26 km (16.3 mi) and joins the Camino Frances in Arzúa. Today we begin the descent toward Santiago de Compostela.

Around 8 am, I leave the Albergue with Céline. She is feeling better. The medication and ointment she received from the doctor yesterday are helping. About 200 m (650 ft) later, we part ways. I am taking the left fork, the official Camino. She is taking the right fork, which will save her 8 km (5 mi) and merge with the Camino Frances later than Arzua. I wish her the best and continue on my way.

Not often do managed forests catch my eye, but today this one does. I love the contrast of the white tree trunks against the green foliage and how the path disappears into the darkness.

This morning I am walking with Heather. I met Heather and her husband last night at the Albert. They are from Yellowknife, Canada. Heather is doing her second Camino. Her husband, Rob, joined her a few days ago. He walks with her for about an hour in the morning, then doubles back, picks up the car, and does the same thing at the end of the day. Heather is working on being less of a self-diagnosed control freak. The conversation starts quickly, but after about 20 minutes, we both feel it is time to move on. Sometimes, it just doesn't click with other Peregrinos. The sunrise, however, looks like a ball of fire this morning.

It's only 11 km (7 mi) this morning until the Camino Del Norte and Frances merge in Arzúa. I have heard this can be a difficult and emotional transition for people walking the Camino Del Norte. The volume of people on the Frances during the last 100 km (62 mi) increases dramatically. This is the minimum required distance to complete the Camino and receive the Compostela (certificate of completion). So, busloads of tourists are dropped off daily to start their "Camino."

I pass Phillipe and Françoise, and he tells me we have under 3 km before the circus starts. I laugh and sing the circus theme song. I have a sucker in my bag that I have been saving for a special moment. It is about time I pull it out. I savor the sucker and my last moments before the trails merge. Just as I arrive at the intersection below, I finish the sucker. Incredible how that worked out. 

The volume of voices and footsteps is something I have not witnessed on the Del Norte. I stop and watch a dozen Peregrinos all following each other pass by. Then small groups (i.e., < 5 people) steadily stream by. Finally, I see a lull and jump into the trough of the sound wave. To my right is a water fountain (picture left). I immediately stop to refill my water bottle and apply sunscreen. Peregrinos continue to pass by me.

I am trying to find my place, but I am finding that people have their own rhythm. Like lemmings on their way to the cliff's edge, they walk at the same speed as the group in front. Never gaining or losing ground. On the other hand, I am consciously trying to keep my rhythm. I am walking by group after group of Peregrinos this morning. Peregrinos are always visible this morning.

Every few kilometers, I pass one or two Albergues. Every 3 to 5 kilometers, there's a group of Pergegrinos eating at a restaurant. This is foreign to me. I finally decide to stop and grab a bocadillo (i.e., sandwich) at this little cafe right along the Camino.

The rest of the walk is relatively uneventful, and I arrive at my Albergue in Santa Irene around 2 pm. I stretch before entering the Albergue, which is right along the Camino. I am in awe of the steady stream of Peregrinos. In four and a half minutes, I count 25 Peregrinos that walk by me. That's 330 Pilgrims per hour! In a few hours since merging with the Frances, I've seen more Peregrinos than I did on the entire Del Norte. Céline arrives about 40 minutes later. She managed pretty well but is happy she took the shorter route.

Around 6 pm, José passes by the Albergue. We chat briefly. He and Petra have formed a surprising friendship and have walked most of the day together. This makes me happy. I had a feeling Petra was a good egg.

Just before dinner, I notice an older French man who is reasonably fit and standing alone. I make my way over to talk to him. I can tell he's close to breaking down. Jean-Marie is 72 years old and doing his 1st Camino. “Ce soir c'est difficile. J’ai beaucoup d'émotions qui font surface. [tonight is tough. I have lots of emotions surfacing.]," he says. He tells me he's struggling with the finality of the last night before reaching Santiago.

"I started in France, on the Chemin de Puy, and lost my best friend and walking partner. He got hurt before we reached Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port," he tells me. I listen closely. I can see how difficult the Camino has been on him. He's choked up, and his eyes are tearing up, but he's fighting the urge to cry.

He tells me that he almost quit when his best friend had to stop. But, instead, he continued and is now about to complete the Camino Frances tomorrow. "I was completely isolated and alone. I had a week where I sat at dinner every night, unable to talk to any of the Peregrinos because no one spoke French." he continues on.

I can feel he's hurting and missing his best friend. Men are not supposed to cry. "I don't understand why people suffer. I saw so much suffering on the Camino," conitnues Jean-Marie. His eyes are now full of water. He tells me of the husband who pushed a wheelchair with his wife. She was unable to walk on the Camino. When the path was too difficult, other pilgrims, including Jean-Marie, helped lift the wheelchair and often carried it short distances. This story resonates with me. I share with him stories I witnessed on my Camino and its impact on me. Tears gently stream down my face, letting Jean-Marie know it's ok to cry. We talk about how powerful the experience of the Camino is, then we sit for dinner.

I passed this sign earlier in the day. When I arrive at Santa Irene, I only have 22 km (13.5 mi) left to Santiago for the morning.

Later I reflect on my conversation with Jean-Marie. The Camino is like a giant amplified Human Radio because everyone walks in the same direction. Ignoring the suffering, love, determination, joy, and other emotions you see, and experience on the Camino is difficult. There are no distractions and no place to withdraw from the discomfort. This is why the volume of the Human Radio is so loud and has such a profound effect on people.

At home, Human Radio is drowned out by distractions. It is diluted because we only come in contact with the discomfort for a brief minute as paths criss-cross each other from all directions. By contrast, everything runs parallel on the Camino. It is both the individuals and the collective masses that create the resonance of the Human Radio. The Camino is a fantastic journey. People worldwide come together to experience it.

One of the last cafes I passed this afternoon before reaching my Albergue. There must have been close to 50 people sitting in this courtyard, and I didn't recognize a single one.

I reflect on the suffering Jean-Marie described and that I witnessed. The suffering is just the surface of the experience. Looking more closely beyond the hell people put themselves through, I find love, strength, and resiliency that is unmatched. Suffering happens because people find an unimaginable power that cannot be described. A force that keeps them going along the Camino. Each day Peregrinos are unwilling to yield to their suffering. This resiliency and strength can move mountains. There is also a great deal of compassion that follows the suffering. Peregrinos come together to help those who suffer. However, they cannot walk the Camino for them. So instead, they find other ways to help, like the man that Yosef (Germany) told me about, who gave his new trekking poles to a young kid carrying a rucksack nearly 30 kg (66 lbs) two days into the Camino Frances. All blistered up, with a bad knee, the young kid struggled to walk daily. When he arrived at the Albergue each night, he played music on his guitar for everyone to enjoy, and you never saw him in pain. 

Even with one day left, some Peregrinos are still nursing wounds on their feet.

I reflect on Jean-Marie's story during dinner. Ironically, he chose to experience deep isolation as part of his Camino. For him, losing his best friend forced him to be alone. Yet, when I listened to him tell me the story, I couldn't help but think of how he could have changed his reality. For example, he showed me a list of all the Albergues he and his best friend had pre-booked before reaching Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. I can't help but wonder why he was unwilling to deviate from this schedule. It appears he closed himself off to the possibility of meeting and finding another walking partner before he left. Was he afraid to betray his best friend? In the end, he got the experience he needed. The Human Radio (i.e., Camino) played his anthem at a frequency only he could hear.

Jean-Marie's experience has me reflecting on a conversation I had with my friend Derek back in the States. We discussed Bruce Lee's philosophy on martial arts and life. Bruce was a legendary martial artist. He tirelessly tried to find and implement the best martial arts technique. He even pioneered a new, highly advanced approach when he saw the others were lacking. In the end, Bruce concluded and adopted the philosophy of "No Way, As Way." He frequently said, "Be Like Water." No Way, As Way, meaning don't box yourself into a single philosophy. Remain fluid and strong like water which takes the shape of whatever container it is placed in.  

Jean-Marie boxed himself into a single way (i.e., the route he planned with his best friend). He was unwilling to mold himself into his experience's shape (i.e., deviating from his planned route). Bruce Lee once said, "When you pour water into a glass, it becomes the glass. You pour it into a kettle, and it becomes the kettle. Yet water hits with a lot of force." 

The path was beautiful today, and this was one of the few minutes I did not have Peregrinos in front of me. However, I could hear some behind me.

Even though Jean-Marie and I spent only a short time together, my experience with him resonated strongly on this last night before arriving in Santiago. I have said that people are like mirrors, and I think Jean-Marie reminds me of a time when I lost my ability to be like water. I was focused on a single way. I remember that I wasn't happy back then. This experience reminds me that my current philosophy is more closely aligned with Bruce Lee's - No Way, As Way. And it serves me well each and every day. Consequently, I am grateful that, unlike Jean-Marie, I have been able to leave that rigid and unhappy self behind.