Part 1 El Camino: Be Prepared - Bigfoot, Bed Bugs & the Boy Scout
Expect the Unexpected
El Camino de Santiago captured my sense of intrigue and adventure the instant I heard about it. Without hesitation, I decided I would go to Spain and walk the Camino. My mind was made up.
Every year pilgrims from all over the world converge upon the Camino to walk the ancient path, a medieval roadway that spans almost 800 kilometers from the French side of the Pyrenees across northern Spain to Santiago de Compostela. Recognized as one of the top three pilgrimages in the world, the Camino de Santiago has attracted millions of pilgrims for multitudes of physical, emotional, and spiritual purposes.
I determined my purpose was to enjoy the sense of peace and serenity that comes with being in nature - to be still in my mind and quiet in my spirit while challenging myself physically. I was open to enjoying a time of connection with God.
Hey, those sound like virtuous reasons to grab my backpack and head to Europe so I could skip-de-do down an antiquated cobblestone road somewhere in the backcountry of northern Spain.
That was my story and I planned to stick to it.
I set my sights on a May pilgrimage, which gave me seven months to prepare.
There were a few matters I had to tend to before I went to Spain. One was on my right foot, the other was on my left foot. For years, I fought a losing battle against ingrown toenails that gouged into the flesh of my big toes.
The obvious question is why had I tolerated this painful infliction stabbing my feet? Because I was a certifiable CHICKEN about getting my toes jabbed with a huge honkin’ syringe.
My feet were terrified to go to the appointment with Dr. Bigfoot, the podiatrist, and so was I. But we couldn’t walk the Camino if we didn’t bite the bullet, grit our teeth, and let Dr. Bigfoot dig out the invasive chunks of nail. When it came time for the appointment I marched myself, along with my kicking and screaming feet into Dr. Bigfoot’s office for the procedure.
Oh no! It was beyond my worst nightmare!
A few fancy flips and twirls of his hatchet and Dr. Bigfoot made history of my ingrown toenails.
Holding the nail chunks up to the light for closer scrutiny, he exclaimed, “Will you look at these? They’re huge!” He admired the prize specimens from every angle, obviously pleased with the results of his hatchet job.
Brandishing the offending nail globs in a pair of tweezers, Bigfoot headed straight out of the procedure room, eager to show them to his staff. “Take a look at these! Can you believe it? I just got these out of her toes!”
Word spread like wildfire through the office grapevine - Bigfoot has a colossal pair of ingrowns that he just whacked out.
The staff members gathered to gawk at the grotesque clumps and marvel at Bigfoot’s exceptional nail-hacking skill. Standing amidst his staff sporting a goofy grin on his face, Bigfoot chuckled and reveled in the accolades.
Meantime, back in the procedure room, my feet and I waited for Dr. Bigfoot to return from his Atta Boy Celebration. We weren’t as enamored with the whole spiel.
I admit, Dr. Bigfoot is an odd duck, but he did an excellent job of fixing my big toes.
As a woman of a certain age, I was willing to go galivanting through the Galicia region of Spain, but I drew the line when it came to the prospect of spending the night on a lumpy mattress in a huge dormitory with a hundred other pilgrims. However, most pilgrims of the Camino stay in Spanish hostels, commonly called albergues.
Call me weird, but communal accommodation is NOT high on my list of priorities at this stage of my life. Been there, done that when I was 17 years old. Somewhere in that time gap, I developed an aversion to bed bugs and an extremely strong disdain for stinky body odor (even if it is on MY own body).
I like to crawl into a clean, bug-free bed in a quiet room after having a nice shower. Regular HOTELS were scarce and most were booked a YEAR in advance.
Houston, we have a problem!
Meanwhile, back on the home front, Hubs caught the Camino bug as well No! I Do Not mean he caught a BED BUG. He decided to join me.
Where there’s a will, there’s a way. With a bit more research I found the perfect solution: A company that handled EVERY detail for the walk, including hotel reservations, meals, and daily transportation of luggage between hotels. As pilgrims, all we had to do was suit up, show up, and start walking.
I contacted them immediately. We squeaked in just under the wire, securing their last reservation for May. It was very reasonably priced too. After all, our feet would be our primary mode of transportation. I booked our trip.
Like most novice pilgrims, I researched what to pack for my trip. Suggestions were plentiful, some being more up my alley than others. Ms. Trés Pilgrim appeared to be the super Camino information guru because she had walked The Way three times. If anyone knew her stuff, surely it was Ms. Trés. She had my attention.
Ms. Trés urged me to cut the belt loops off my pants, and throw my bra away so “my girls could go free.”
Her reasoning?
First, the belt loops would weigh me down. Trust her, after a few loop-free days I would be very thankful I wasn’t lugging the loops around with me.
Second, according to Ms. Trés my “girls” had to dangle au naturel because the weight of my itty-bitty bra was going to drive me to my knees and hammer me into the ground before I even got off the Camino starting block.
Trés demonstrates how to let the “girls go free.”
Okay, I get it Trés, I can take a joke as well as the next person. What comes next? The section where you advise all pilgrims to go commando because undies add nothing but dead weight to any pilgrim crazy enough to wear them?
Trés, I bet you blast through the albergues every morning at 5:30 with a megaphone hollering, “FREE THE GIRLS, BURN YOUR BOXERS! FREE THE GIRLS, BURN YOUR BOXERS!”
I scrapped Ms. Trés Pilgrim’s suggestions. It was a risky venture, but I opted to keep my belt loops intact and my girls behaving like ladies, not hooligans.
Note: In case you are considering walking the Camino de Santiago, I want to clarify some information.
First, there is a wealth of information about the Camino on the Internet including:
Guidelines about the different types of albergues and levels of service available.
Excellent guidebooks and packing lists.
Information about the network of alternative Camino routes.
History and legends about the Camino.
Second, pilgrims have several options for traveling the Camino. Honoring the tradition established 1500 years ago, walking still remains the option preferred by the majority of pilgrims. However, thousands of modern pilgrims opt to cycle the distance, while others choose to cover the route by horseback. Finally, concierge travel services now offer creative customized options for pilgrims to combine walking and leisure time.
Third, bed bugs really are a problem in some of the albergues. Not all, but some. Heads up. Check the Internet blogs and comments carefully before making any reservations at an albergue. Unless, of course, you don’t mind sharing your bed with bugs. In that case, I’m sure the bed bugs will be very happy to dine on you.
I dare say having Hubs as my sidekick simplified everything.
For many years his idea of a good time was to hike deep into the heart of the Canadian Rockies, shouldering a seventy-pound backpack filled with all his food, clothing, shelter, and supplies. I doubt it even crossed Hubs’ mind to read a packing list for the Camino, let alone Ms. Trés Pilgrim’s sage advice.
Imagine his reaction if I told Hubs he could lighten his load on the Camino by throwing away his boxers, letting the “boys” go free, and cutting the belt loops off his pants.
When it comes to hiking, Hubs takes the Boy Scout motto Be Prepared to heart. Having been married since the dinosaur age, I just knew Hubs the Boy Scout would automatically Be Prepared for me too. All I had to do was empty a few odds and ends from my backpack and repack it with the essential items I needed in a daypack. Everything else was packed in our luggage and the travel service would handle its daily transportation.
When my backpack was empty I turned it upside down and gave it a good shake to make sure I had everything out of it. CLUNK!
What the…??? How did a stone get in my backpack?
Oh, I remember… I picked up on the shore of the lake at the base of Mt. Denali in Alaska. (See my posting “Here’s to You, Dad!” for the story about this special rock).
There are no accidents. While it was hidden in my backpack, the stone traveled with me to twenty different countries.
According to ancient tradition, as a pilgrim of the Camino, I needed to carry a symbolic stone from my homeland in my backpack. Traditionally, the stone is left along the Camino, as a symbol of something the pilgrim desires to leave in the past.
It was almost down to the zero hour, and I had my stone. Everything was packed and ready to go.
El Camino de Santiago here we come!
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I've always wanted to do El Camino. Sounds like an adventure.
Cheers