Raven River Writing

I WALKED OUT WITH THE MOON AT 4.30 am. 

St Jean Pied de Port to Roncesvalles. Over the high pass – took the wrong bloody one…! But views were lovely. Mist and hills and hills and hills, layering one after each other to eternity. Came down into Roncesvalles through beech woods. So lovely.

That night I stayed in a Pilgrim place. Had a pilgrim meal. Waiter was awful. Two guys were “dick waving” at the table- I did not expect this on a holy trek – but now I know it happens everywhere! A wee French man wanted to get to Mass and was being held up timewise by the “dickwavers”… ! Later, I met Pissed-Heidi, and Hilary the American girl.

Set out the next morning following an Irish boy and three girls. Got lost! I learned early – Do Not Follow Anyone! Met Dutch guys who were cycling and eventually I got to Larrasoaña.

All I remember of Pamplona was wide streets – of course, makes easier Running of the Bulls.

Walked to Los Acros. Loved Estella. Walked alone but met with Flo and Caleb for the last stage. Stayed in an orange adobe albergue – cool and down in the earth. Got my legs and feet massaged in curtained off area in sitting room. It was a basic beginners massage – but still helped my “shin splints”.

I liked Belorado, stayed in church accommodation. They ask for donation only. Had Pilgrim meal dinner.

Such safety in constriction in the cathedral in Leon. A wedding was taking place that day. The weight of constriction in the lives of the bride and groom was stultifying. The images of babies and cherubs carved in plaster and wood writhing like innards on the walls were all the stuff of the human ego – lacking awareness of any other nature beings entirely. Such self focus creates constriction and is like the Devil in the Tarot cards. Such constriction permits excitement in the heat. It creates energy when energy has dissapated in the heat. Such constriction is as harsh as the burning sun. There are so many railings and jails set up inside the cathedral, movement is constricted and controlled. The wooden carvings of the inner place of the “choir” were suffocating. The only thing I sort of liked was the statue of the Virgin of Guadelope.

Walked from Leon to Villadangos del Páramo. On the walk out of Villadangos I was hit by a mini dust twister. It passed over my right side. I was told I would be hit by something, but it would pass by and I would be fine. THREE times I saw a dust warning that day. I walked from Villadangos to Astorga and got sun stroke!

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I was told by the cards, on the day I left Islay that my journey would be “disastrous” – yet still I persevered… SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED SINCE I LEFT HOME. I took the bus to Glasgow and stayed in a strange air bnb – all brown and black paint. I didn’t acknowledge the * in the door code, so thought I was locked out!

Train to London. Went to board train to Paris, had to show clear covid test. Ran upstairs at St. Pancras to get tested. Returned as positive! OMG – not permitted to travel. Had to stay in expensive shit hotel in London. Then booked a guesthouse for two more nights. Then back to St. Pancras for test – then joy, of joy! – on the train to Paris. Stayed in cool place in Montmartre, up high spiral staircase. Then train to Bayonne – held up for HOURS! Stayed in a dj’s house but got lost on the way there. A young girl helped me find the door in the dark. Next day took train to St Jean Pied de Port to begin walking. Stayed in nice place, met Salvatorè – and the journey proper had begun!

Lovely walk from Sarria to Portomarin through dappled oak woods. Past stone dykes drapped with moss. The air has the sea in it. I can feel it. It is not so dry and round. It is more flowing and ever so slightly gentler – like the molecules it contains are bigger, more open, not so oppressed with the burning heat.

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Portomarin – municipal alberque, no doors on showers. Shoved eight into a room that should only hold six. No plates, or anything in kitchen cupboards. TERRIBLE snoring from lazy, drunk indulgent fat bastard at night. I know the snoring bastards. I can pick them out a crowd, snuffling like truffle pigs through life. Keeping everyone else awake in the dorm.

What have I learned? Life is bigger than me. There ARE limitations. People shape the doorway to the Divine according to their own designs and concepts. Christianity and Islam and etc are men’s doorway – they exclude women. Cailleach Oidhche / Owl is the symbol of the Goddess. When I see her on this walk, I know I am on the right path: literally, metaphorically, mythically, spiritually. I lead a privileged life. I choose when to deal with the crush of humanity and when not. Without my work or looks I don’t know who I am. From now on I will just focus on the beauty of the land. I am not a PILGRIM. I am a WALKER. It is too hot for me to think. I am not dressed for this heat. I need to recalibrate myself. I look like a day shopper and at night I look like Susan Boyle!

I am lost without my intellect. In the heat I find it difficult to focus and arrange myself. Organising accommodation and my pack are an effort. This is a solo adventure for the young. I am only relaxed when walking, and even then harassesd by thinking ‘where will I pee?’ – keeping hydrated means constantly peeing! And one feels obliged to buy something at each place – it costs more than a penny to spend a penny… I left my Hoka trainers in the youth hostel. I hate them. Wide flat bottomed trainers for lazy people and lazy walking. They are a symbol of all the disorganisation of this trip!

People are walking the Camino de Santiago for themselves. The new thing is searching for Goddess/God inside, and finding ourselves. Well, it’s a start! We don’t let ourselves exist in nature reality – we seem to exist in some wifi space, connecting with friends and others via mobiles and tablets. While we eat, sit, walk, stand, even run – we are not actually in the place where our body is doing this, we are in a non physical reality – our attention and consciousness is somewhere else, a place that is operating in tandem to our sensory being reality. We have become a computer programme. And like a programme we are defined by “not” somewhere, or not something. No wonder people are lonely.

Buen Camino fellow Walkers in Life! This was an amazing journey. I recommend it to all. XX