Day 12: Pontevedra to Armenteira (15 miles, 2300 ft elevation gain)

Walking the Camino

Pontevedra, where we stayed last night, has a large, beautiful historic area with winding streets filled with cafes, restaurants and shops. And people. So many people out and about. And so many pilgrims.

Pontevedra is where all the Camino Portugues paths converge. Also, it's close to where the 100-kilometer pilgrims start their journey. To get the Camino certificate in Santiago de Compostela, pilgrims need to have walked at least 100 km.

Before we knew it, we were in a traffic jam of pilgrim walkers. But then the paths diverged. We took the left turn for the "Variente Espirituale" an alternative route that loops around a wild and beautiful area closer to the coast than the more direct regular route. Also more hilly. Just about everyone else in the growing group of pilgrims took the straight path up towards Santiago. I was relieved to break from the pack and restore some of the peace and quiet we had earlier in the way.

Our route took us through a nice coastal town before sending us on a persistent and sometimes steep climb. Up, up, up. While taking a break on the backside coming toward Armenteira, a middle-aged Hispanic couple walked by. She, the wife, was all sunshine, chatter and giggles. The husband dragged behind, paused when he came to us, and said with a smirk, "It never ends.'"

For me, this was a reference to all the walking, walking, walking. Jessica heard it as a nod to his bubbly wife and all the talking, talking, talking. Either way it was a fun little moment.

We came down the last hill and emerged from the woods to see a lovely old cafe at the bottom. It sits right by the 12th century monastery that is the spiritual and historic center for this place.

Here we saw a familiar face, Tracy from South Africa. We had walked some of the climb together. We talked, among other things, about the idea of a walking vacation. Apparently, there are good, supported routes in England, Scotland, Italy, etc. She mentioned the Pacific Crest Trail in the US. But then she added, "None of those are like this one. Whether you're religious or not, here you're walking on a trail that has been travelled for a thousand years. There's something about that."

As Tracy came out off the path into the square, applause broke out from the cafe. The two Kiwi trekkers led the cheers. They had walked with Tracy earlier in the day. We came out right behind her and the applause continued... "Dad and daughter!" Other pilgrims at the cafe joined the cheers. I couldn't help but break out a huge grin. We celebrated our arrival with drinks and patatas bravas.

We ended the day with a Pilgrim's Blessing service at the monastery. The nuns sang hymns to celebrate God and invite His blessings on our journey, intermingled with long periods of silence. At the end, several of the nuns and the priest stood up, turned to face us, and read the "Blessing for the pilgrim" in several languages. We were deeply touched.

God bless, fellow pilgrims.

Bonus pic

Our full route with overnights pinned

Day 13: Armenteira to Vilanova de Arousa (18 miles)

Walking the Camino

Today's walk from the monastery was just magical. The path is all stones and water. The stones are in the landscape and in the dozens of old water mill remains. The water is the creek and it's many waterfalls, then the river.

The stones, the trees, everything are blanketed with a rich, brilliant green moss. The peaceful spirit of the monastery, of the village, of the Camino itself rested with us.

We arrived in Vilanova de Arousa at 4:30 to the quiet of the Spanish siesta. The city at rest.

We crossed over the 200-mile mark today. We're close to the end of our journey. Tomorrow we cross the wide Ria de Arousa by boat, and begin to make our way to Santiago de Compostela.

“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Philippians 4:7

Day 14: Vilanova de Arousa to Padron (7.5 miles)

Walking the Camino

Less activity today, more reflection. What was to be a short brief become not that :) Read if/when you have some time and energy.

We took the ferry up the Rio Ulla to Padron this morning, thus closing the "Variente Espirituel" portion of our journey. Here we rejoined all the other pilgrims traveling north by the various Camino Portugues routes. Today was more like a rest day than a travel day, with only a few kilometers walking.

The ferry ride provided a nice opportunity to lay our packs down and spend time with new friends. The New Zealand ladies were on the boat, as was "Chicago" and his sister and her friend, a lovely couple from the UK we've chatted with the last couple of days, Tracy from South Africa, a group from Italy we've seen a lot of recently, and several others we've encountered along the way.

It felt a bit like a reunion. But with different people we've had different experiences with in different places. Some of them connected to each other, and some connected to others we hadn't met.

I pause here to recall others we encountered earlier in the way. Atlanta and her son back on Day 0, the couple from South Africa we almost joined on an inland detour, Houston and his very patient wife, Christina of the woods, sweet, spunky Natalie and her mom, Dutchie and Israel, "Baby Family' with the stroller, Mike the banker and his daughter Kelly, and others.

We enjoyed sharing the way with you.

When we got off the ferry, Jess and I found a cafe in Padron with six or so of the new lot, sharing family photos and more about our lives. Chicago (John) and I have both done disaster relief work. His sister and her husband were missionaries in Africa. So much common ground.

Wouldn't we find more of that in each other if we created more time and space to connect? That's one thing the Camino does. Different people, different backgrounds, different "why's" walking the same path. Sharing the challenge, sharing resources, and sharing stories. A Brazilian pilgrim we met said, "The Camino connects the world."

I imagine some will have just this moment of connection, while others will stay connected and perhaps even create new stories together.

Personally, this was never about making new friends, though I've thoroughly enjoyed meeting new people. My life and my work have connected me to many people, places, languages and cultures.In a way, this journey has felt familiar, an extension of my normal life. In other ways it has felt completely new. The pace, the long stretches of silence, the disconnection from technology, the distance at times from other people, from all the busyness and all the noise.

The simplicity.

UK guy talked about it on the ferry. "You don't really get many chances like this, to break the routine and to move at a different pace." That's the thing for me. Breaking the routine, taking a fresh look at what really matters and what doesn't. And who really matters.

It's been such a blessing to walk with Jessica. She's good company and a great travel companion. I can only think of a couple of times we crossed wires. I won't remember those. What I will remember are the many, many conversations, from silly to sound to profound. And this shared experience full of stories we'll relish for many years to come.

Jessica and I talked a few days ago about how each of us is still discovering our why. Some come with that already fixed. Remember "Forgiveness" and "Whenever there's a change needed?" Others, like us, believe the journey itself is worth taking. Beyond that, we've opened a space now. Let's see what comes in.

And what, perhaps, goes out.

I am drawn to the simplicity. Not through distancing and detachment. Just the opposite, in fact. Simplicity to create more space for more important things. I know what those are for me--faith, family, friends. Also new experiences, learning new things. And creating. What could that look like?

Perhaps I'm moving towards my why. In any case, today we explore a monastery and tomorrow we take the road to Santiago.

Day 15: Padron to Santiago de Compostela (20 miles; 1,800 elev. gain)

Walking the Camino

After a long walk with long moments of beauty and moments of rain, blisters, and a sudden lack of cafes and food, we arrived at our destination.

At first sight Santiago is a busy, noisy city. Once we broke through that, however, we came into the old city of stone buildings carved by narrow, winding streets filled with shops and street life. The cathedral itself is massive and stunning. Pilgrims who travelled from Portugal, Spain and France gathered in the huge square and hugged, cheered and took pictures.

We arrived in the rain, which is said to be a blessing. We went to the office to have our credentials validated and receive our official Camino certificates. As per tradition, they are written in Latin, including our names. Mine is Brennum. Jessica's is Joannam.

After a short rest we attended the evening service. Hundreds of pilgrims, locals and other visitors filled the cathedral beyond capacity. And this was just one of four services today. And every day. We saw several familiar faces at the service.

Afterwards, we ran into the UK couple we had met earlier and chatted with on the ferry. We ended up together at a tapas bar recommended by Tracy, whom we had see earlier in the afternoon. Jeremy and Lucy are good people. They've invited us to do a house swap with them. They showed us pictures of their spacious 350-year old Tudor house in Cambridge, England, with a beautiful garden and a barn. Lucy was a fashion and interior designer, so I imagine it's just lovely inside.

So yes, new friends. What a pleasant way to complete our Camino.

No need to go anywhere tomorrow, which is just fine. One more day in Santiago.

There will be more to reflect on and process after this 230+ mile journey. For now, Buen Camino!

Bonus video: hello, friend

Day 0 Santiago de Compostela

Walking the Camino

We achieved our first objective today, coffee and breakfast, at around 11am. Strong start to our post-arrival rest. We decided to make today our Spain day.

For the past two weeks we have been working against the grain of Spanish and Portuguese Iberian rhythms. We often left before coffee shops were open and arrived when cafes and restaurants were closed for the afternoon. Today was our day to go with the fiesta siesta flow. We had a slow lunch at 2:00, then a long rest at 4:00. We lingered over a glass of wine at 7:00, what we call "pre-tapas" hour. When we went for tapas at 8:00, we were told that we could have a table but would need to be out by 10:00 for a reservation.

Apparently two hours is not enough for tapas in Spanish time. We realized at that moment that, despite our best efforts, we'd never be able to fully live out a Spanish night out. We did our best.

In the afternoon, we visited the Museo das Peregrinacions de Santiago (Pilgrim's Museum). There we took in the history of the Camino and the city, as well as the curious mix of history, myth and legend, combined with religious and political forces, that formed the mystique of St. James and the pilgrimage that follows him.

The fascination with religious relics and the deification of human characters of the Bible narrative are not for me. It makes the divine something magical and unapproachable. Jesus and those like James who followed him did just the opposite. They brought God near.

None of the apostles sought to be worshipped. In fact, they fiercely and publicly resisted that tendency.

‭"As Peter entered the house, Cornelius met him and fell at his feet in reverence. But Peter made him get up. 'Stand up,' he said, 'I am only a man myself.'" Acts 10:25-26‬‬‬

Biblically, all Christians are saints. I love that about Jesus and the New Testament message. It's so simple, relational, accessible. Holiness through our human-ness. We don't need to build elevated places and mythologies.

Buen Caminio simply means "Good Way." It's a journey of life, of faith lived in everyday moments. I relate to the dirt path of the pilgrimage, not the adornments of the cathedral.

What stood out to me at the Pilgrim Museum wasn't the religious story. It was the chronicle of people taking this same journey for 1,000 years. We saw 16th C paintings and statues that depict pilgrims carrying or wearing a scallop shell, just as we and others did. We shared the path with all of them.

Today again is Day 0, just as it was in Lisbon. That means there's a new Day 1 before us. I like that.

The Sound of Silence

Travelog Oct. 14 6:20pm Istanbul, bridge to the world, one city that spans two continents

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. 1 Kings 19:11b-12

Yes, in the story, the Lord was in the whisper. I’ve been thinking lately about silence.

Early one crisp fall Saturday morning several years ago, I spontaneously decided to go on a 30-mile walk. I packed a small knapsack with water and a few snack bars. Then I posted a message on Facebook inviting my wife (who had no idea what I was up to) to meet me for dinner at a tavern at the end of the walk. With high hopes for the day and for her seeing the message (I had no Plan B to get home), I set out.

When my daughter later heard about this, she asked me, “What did you do?” At first I didn’t understand the question. But then she added, “Did you listen to podcasts? Or an audiobook?” She wanted to know what I did while I walked the 30 miles.

My answer… “I walked. I observed. I prayed. I reflected. That’s it.”

This brings me to the topic for today, the sound of silence. There’s just so much noise, noise, noise (Grinch quote) in the world today. Not the happy Hoos in Hooville kind of happy noise (although, thankfully, there is some of that). But all the noise coming at us from a world that can be demanding, confused, hostile, combative, self-interested, needy, and, thanks to the wonders of the internet, personal devices and social media, constantly streaming all of the above.

When I first used social media, I enjoyed checking in every few days to see what people I know and care about were up to. A friend on a trip. A second cousin is pregnant. My old classmate got a new job. Nice.

Then I got my first notification. I thought, hmmm, OK, I suppose this must be something important or relevant to me. Then another notification popped up. And another. I felt interrupted and bothered. I thought, that’s it, you’re done. Social media apps, you do not get to decide what is important in my life and when. Time and space are too precious to me. I turned off notifications. They’ve been off ever since.

If we want peace, we need to block the noise.

Thomas Jefferson once said, “Walking is the best possible exercise. Habituate yourself to walk very far.” I have been taking daily long walks for the last five or so years. It started as a Fitbit 10,000 steps a day thing. And now it’s just my thing. When I can I go 4-5 miles. As I get into the woods near my house, it begins to grow quiet. The sounds of the city slowly yield to the sounds of the stream, of calling birds, of the wind in the leaves, of the distant bullfrog.

And sometimes, almost nothing at all, the sound of silence.

In this space my brain rests. I pray, I reflect. I begin to visualize activities to come, preparing for important moments. I imagine new worlds to inhabit. The reason I am in Europe now is to do work that I love with my favorite partner (my wife, Caryn) in places and with people we both love dearly. This is a world that formed over time in thoughts and images while on my long walks over the last several years.

I am, among other things, a coach and workshop facilitator in the art of public speaking. In that space we talk a lot about the power of the pause. Often in speaking people go fast. Sometimes because they’re nervous. Sometimes because they try to cram in way too much information. We coaches ask our speakers to … slow … down…

And to add pauses.

Pauses are like deep breaths. They create space to process. Pauses serve as an invitation to the audience to join the story. They are like stops on the metro, giving time for people to get on board before heading to the destination. Those precious moments of silence add a sense of importance to whatever comes next.

It works in public speaking and it works in life. The power of the pause. The sound of silence. What a gift in a noisy world. What can you do to offer this gift to your weary soul?

100 Miles of Solitude

It’s 12:37am in Bucharest, Romania and who knows what time according to my body clock. I am not sleeping after the long flight here from Washington, DC—Northern Virginia (NOVA) actually, but that doesn’t matter to anyone outside of NOVA. Sleep has been less reliable these days. Maybe something to do with being 60.

I’ve been thinking about the 100-mile century bicycle ride I did just a few days ago. I had fun posting a few pictures of the journey in real time on Facebook. Many friends and family posted encouraging messages—“You can do it!... Way to go, Brian!... You got this!...” A few asked the key question. Why? Was this an organized ride? Was this for a cause? Is this typical for me? The answer to all these questions is “no,” which leaves the question, why?

On one level I can say it’s been sitting on my bucket list for years.

When we moved to NOVA from Amsterdam in 2008, I was excited to learn there are numerous bike paths in the area. I’ve always loved biking. In my own way. I’m not a road warrior racing guy. I’m not a Saturday morning group ride guy. But I’ve done a lot of biking. In Amsterdam, of course, a city built for bicycle transportation. But it didn’t start there for me.

When I lived in Southern California in my early 20s, I biked to work, to the YMCA, to town, to just about everything. I enjoyed that so much I signed up for a bike trek from San Francisco to San Diego, panniers (little bike suitcases) strapped to my ride with clothes, camping gear, food, etc. Words cannot express the rush, the purity, the sheer delight of flying through the downhill bends, the wind of accelerating speeds whipping across my sun-soaked skin, ocean shore a hundred feet below, the mountains of Big Sur rising above, hugging the cliffs of the Pacific Coast Highway.

I liked that so much I continued with one of the other riders to Tecate, Mexico. Why that wasn’t a good idea, why we had to ditch our bikes at a bus depot, how we ended up in a make-shift bullfight ring that collapsed on us, how we had to run through the border to get back to our bikes… well, that’s another story for another day.

But I liked that so much I trained to be a bicyle tour leader and led a group on a ride from Seattle to San Francisco the following year. How I was almost killed by a falling tree on the first day, how the experience led me to serious introspection and, among the majestic redwoods of Northern California one early morning, a turning to God… well again, another story for another day.

I guess the point of sharing those moments here is to say that cycling has played a special role in my life, in different times in different ways. It was perhaps inevitable, then, that I would want to complete what I came to call “the W&OD Century”—100 miles out and back between the trailhead in Purcellville, VA and Washington, DC.

I don’t know if that fully answers the question, why? Why would a 60-year-old with a cranky shoulder on one side, tendinitis on the other side, calves, ankles and knees that send regular messages that they are not alright, why do it? All I can say is it’s in me and it was time to come out.

Which leads to how. How did it go? How did it feel?

No one word could capture the full experience. So let me try and break it down. I certainly feel the satisfaction of a thing completed, something I planned for, prepared for, dreamed of doing one day. Done. And that feels good.

But there are other words, other feelings. One word that comes to mind… it was lonely.

I had hoped to ride with guys like Alex, Will and Paul. Every once in a while we come together for a special ride. Some of us completed the 184.5 miles of the C&O Canal tow path a ways back. A couple of years ago we rode 60 hilly miles to celebrate Alex turning 60. And we did an even hillier version of that ride when I turned 60 this year. None of them were able to join, however, so I would have to take this one on solo.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind being by myself or doing things on my own. There’s a good dose of introvert in me. I like being able to do what I like when I like the way I like.

But that comes at a cost. I experienced that deeply when I was in my 20s and doing all the things. Colorado, California, the bike adventures, a 30-day trek in the Bighorn Mountains of Wyoming, New Hampshire, Spain. All on my clock. All on my own. With others, different people each time, no continuity, no enduring relationships, so on my own.

I prefer company. In our church community we call it fellowship. It’s not casual, it’s intentional. It’s not temporary, it’s enduring. It comes from a decision that life is better when lived with others. I made the decision in my mid-20s (remember the Redwoods?) to make relationships—with God, with family, with spiritual community, with friends old and new—the priority in my life. My best life is lived when adventure, challenge, meaningful work, relationships and growth all connect. Life is better together.

Maybe that’s why I posted the ride on Facebook. In a way I was able to experience community through the engagement. I suppose that’s the good side of social media, this opportunity to connect and share meaningful experiences when we can’t be together physically. If only that’s how people were using it. Some do, I’m sure. But I’ve seen too many people on my daily walks glued to their phones—ignoring the quiet call of nature, blocking out their kids and anyone else or anything else in the real time real world. Maybe that’s another story for another time.

In the end I feel like I stretched, pushed, tested, moved, reflected... and because of all that, I learned and grew just a little bit. In the end maybe that’s the why. It’s about exploration, discovery, about becoming more. I like that. Every answer leads to new questions. Every adventure leads to new paths. I look forward to the next one. And to sleeping.