How I Learned to Hike - Final

 

 

 

HOW I LEARNED TO HIKE                                                                                         by Patricia Riley

 

How did I learn to hike?  The hard way. The painful way.  The fun way.

This past summer I went on a pilgrimage to Spain.  I hiked 357 miles of the 590 mile Camino de Santiago – The Camino Frances.  

Let me tell you a bit about the Camino de Santiago.  The Camino or The Way of the Stars is a medieval pilgrimage. Traditionally ones pilgrimage would start at their front door but many people chose to start at the beginning of one of several established routes.  The goal is always the same – the cathedral city of Santiago de Compostela, Spain.   Santiago means St. James.   St. James was martyred in 44 CE when Herod had him beheaded.  His tomb is in the beautiful cathedral in Santiago de Compostela.  There are a few legends surrounding St. James and how his body arrived in Spain after his death.  One of the more famous is that when his body was being taken to Spain from Jerusalem, the boat encountered heavy seas and the body was washed overboard.  Some time later it came ashore, unharmed, but covered in scallop shells.   Pilgrims attach a scallop shell to their backpacks to identify them as such.   

 

 

                                                                                                 

I decided to research the pilgrimage after watching the Emilio Estevez movie “The Way”. I read several books and scoured websites about the Camino. I talked to people who had done the walk.  I talked to and emailed my seventy-seven year old uncle who had completed the Camino twice, once on a bike and the second time with his adult sons.  It was time to go!

I decided that 2013 was my year.  I would be turning fifty and my youngest son was to graduate high school.  I felt it would be a great start to the second half of my life. My husband was my support and a great cheerleader.  He knew I could do the pilgrimage even when I was doubting myself.

My hiking partner was my friend, Jean.  She is a teacher and the total opposite of me.  She is very outgoing and has such a positive outlook on life. I was not very outgoing but that was soon to change.  Jean is also a bit taller than I am so she was a much faster hiker. That did not change.  She was an awesome travel companion.  We each had our own private reason for undertaking this very ambitious project.  We also have a very solid relationship in that we could be honest about wanting alone time without the other getting upset.  Jean would often hike well ahead of me and we would meet in the next village for a Coke and a much needed rest.

 

 

 

 

When I made the decision to do this hike I knew it would be a challenge.  But really I had no idea.  I felt that as I was in good health and liked to walk than I should be okay.  I had spent many hours hiking the area around my home and did a great hike up to the top of Mount Walker near Quilcene with my oldest son.  I was properly outfitted with sturdy boots, an ultralight sleeping bag and new backpack.  I did my research. I read the books.  I quizzed people that I met who had walked the trail.  I wanted to be fully prepared for my challenge.  My confidence, maybe overconfidence, blinded me to one very important thing.  That was the strain my backpack was going to put on my feet.  No, I did not train with a fully loaded backpack.  I did not think that an eighteen pound pack would stress my body very much.  It was only 18lbs, right?

Wrong.  What happens when you strap on an eighteen pound backpack and go for a 17 mile hike that goes up a steady incline on trail that alternates between paved roads, dirt path, rocky animal tracks and then descends along the same? And do that every day for 26 days straight?  You get protesting feet, aching calf muscles and blisters under your toenails.  That was just the first three days.  After that I developed a sharp pain just below my right knee that was so bad on the decline that I had to walk sideways.  The interesting thing about it is that I had no problems with any other part of my body above my knees, except for the sunburn on the back of my neck and calves from always walking with my back to the sun.

So I have established that I was in pain most of the time.  No problem.  I was focused.  Every day I got up, brushed my teeth and strapped on my 18lb backpack and put blinders on.  My goal was to finish the plan for the day, not to get to Santiago.  That I had to put in the back of my mind and just put one aching foot in front of the other.  A funny thing happened every day just after I started walking.  I forgot about my feet, shin, blisters and shooting knee pain. Almost.   It became not so important when I looked out over the beautiful landscape that is Spain and when I would talk to the other pilgrims on the trail who were going thru the same thing I was.   One of my favorite encounters was with a South Korean man who now lives in the US.  He claimed to be an acupuncturist as well as a teacher.  We were talking one night and he found out about the pain I was experiencing with my knee.  He offered to do acupuncture on me to help alleviate the discomfort.  So that is how I ended up sitting on my bunk, surrounded by four very handsome young men from various European countries with 15 needles sticking out of my leg.  That was the fun way I learned to hike.  Ooh la la..

So that leads me to the lesson I learned about hiking.  It is not just about figuring out what kind of equipment to buy, what type of footwear is best for the terrain or even how long or steep the trail is.  It is also about getting out and experiencing life.  It is about facing your fears.  It is about figuring out what your mental and physical limitations are.  It is about reaching a goal and being brave enough to set another, even bigger target for your next adventure.

 

 

 

Machu Piccu anyone