Camino of Love

By Alexandre Narciso and Anabela Narciso

In the spring of 2013, Alexandre and Anabela hoisted their backpacks and set foot on the thousand-year-old Camino de Santiago. However, treading the 500-mile pilgrimage route that stretches out between the French village of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port and Santiago de Compostela went way beyond their expectations. Above all it became an enlightening inner journey of self-discovery and self-awareness. Between the imposing mountains of the Pyrenees and the Galician capital, the Camino led them to an infinity of crossroads adorned with signs, colored by life stories, tinged with laughter and tears, sketched by dreams and fears, shaped by triumph and defeat, gilded by Love. Those were unparalleled, incomparable, and unrepeatable days. Their life-changing experience is now in your hands. Buen Camino!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alexandre Narciso
• Release date: Mar 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781507099599

Book preview

cover.jpg

Camino of Love

Journal of a couple on the Way to Santiago

Alexandre Narciso & Anabela Narciso

Translated by Ana Araújo

img1.jpg

Copyright

©2015 Alexandre Narciso & Anabela Narciso

All rights reserved.

Translated from the Portuguese by Ana Araújo

First published in 2014 as

Caminho do Amor: Diário de um Caminho a dois rumo a Santiago

Alexandre Narciso & Anabela Narciso

Cover: Angie Zambrano

Photos: © 2013 Alexandre Narciso

Map: © 2014 Anabela Narciso

By purchasing this eBook, you have been granted the non-exclusive, and non-transferable right to read this text. No part of this eBook may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the authors.

To our family

always walking at our side.

Table of Contents

Camino of Love

Copyright

Table of Contents

PROLOGUE

THE MOUNTAIN

HIGHS AND LOWS

THE FAMILY

ATTITUDE

THE STORM

THE CALM

DEATH

REBIRTH

CAMINO OF LOVE

SMALL STEPS, GREAT GOALS

FIELD OF STARS

About the Authors

Distances Covered

img2.jpg

PROLOGUE

From a certain point onward there is no longer any turning back. That is the point that must be reached.

FRANZ KAFKA

The train has just left the station.

As darkness slowly gives way to daylight, the train pulls out of the Saint Jean station in Bordeaux. We take our seats, torn between skeptical apprehension and childlike anticipation. A roughly three-hour ride on this iron horse stretches out between us and Saint-Jean-Pied-de Port, the starting point of our Camino de Santiago.

Bordeaux was the latest stopover on a journey that began many months ago in Lisbon. That day, we looked into each other’s eyes and our hearts decided in unison: we would walk the eight-hundred-kilometer route between the small French village of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port and Santiago de Compostela, the capital of Galicia. Eight hundred kilometers of climbing colossal mountains, trekking over vast plains on dirt and gravel trails flanked by tilled fields and thick woods.

Our hearts embraced the decision on the spot, before our minds had even considered it. We still don’t know the hows or whys. Not yet!

In between, we spent many months preparing both physically and mentally. Our minds were often haunted by doubts over our decision to tread this millennial route. Those were the days when everything seemed senseless and insurmountable. On rare occasions, we managed to simply turn a finely tuned deaf ear to logic’s tormenting voice and act as if the decision was final. We sought to lift our spirits with the testimony of other pilgrims who had been through the same. In spite of uncertainty, they had walked the Camino and reached Santiago. This shot of morale worked on some days. Not so much on others. But still, we continued to plan our days around physical training sessions.

Then the time came to tell our families about our decision to walk the Camino de Santiago. We were promptly told we would never make it. You don’t know what you’re getting into! Those menacing words, which hover like an ominous shadow of catastrophe over any who attempt great things, felt patronizing to us. Still, it was understandable. Our parents don’t want to stop us from walking the paths we choose to follow in this life, even if they do sense the danger in every rock that might trip us. All they want is to prevent the certain sadness and pain that comes with the fall. We knew those weren’t words of discouragement. It was only their fear speaking louder.

Now, as the train slowly slithers over the rails towards the south and away from Bordeaux, Kafka’s disquieting aphorism echoes in our thoughts: From a certain point onward there is no longer any turning back. That is the point that must be reached. We both felt that we had reached that point of no return, that there was no turning back.

We recall these last few months, the hesitations and doubts, and we ask ourselves: had it been the voice of wisdom we heard, warning us that failure was possible at any moment? Or had we just been making excuses?

Reason tells us that this is a crazy thing we set out to do. Eight hundred kilometers? On foot? We take one look at ourselves and think, we fit the role of pilgrims like a penguin fits a flight academy.

Tomorrow is the big day when we set foot on the Camino. We are aware that we carry much more than just gear in our backpacks. We also carry our dreams and fears, our angels and demons. We know they will be our constant companions on the road. And while some will encourage us, we will have to somehow find the weapons to defeat the others. We also bring questions, many questions that we hope to see answered. In other words, we set out in search for answers that we cannot be sure we will ever find. And the greatest question of all is ever-present in our minds: what is this force that drives us to walk the Camino?

We know we want to do it because we need to do it. We need to push ourselves beyond the limits of our comfort-zone: to exhaust ourselves, so our lives will not feel depleted; to know pain, so we don’t go through life feeling numb; to live on the bare essentials, so that we can appreciate the wealth in what we have. Not material wealth, but that of people and of caring... We set out in search of that humanity we have so often begun to question. Where did it go? What have they done with it? The modern world drains us of our spirituality, clouds our senses with bright lights and promises of fame, luxury and adventure. We lose much of what makes us human.

Still, we ask ourselves why our hearts have urged us to backpack over eight hundred kilometers. But we both know today is not a day for answers. It is a day for questions, fears and anxiety.

Most importantly, today is a day for dreams!

THE MOUNTAIN

Para llegar a Santiago como un joven, empieza el Camino como un viejo.{1}

POPULAR SAYING

Indecision had a firm grip on our minds as the morning came and we found ourselves facing the daunting cross of the Pyrenees.

We had known beforehand that we had two options to reach the Spanish hamlet of Roncesvalles. Either we took Route Napoléon, across the mountain, or the Valcarlos Route, which follows roughly along the highway connecting France to Spain. Route Napoléon is a little longer and less even than the Valcarlos Route, which certainly makes it more demanding and therefore scarier. But it is also where pilgrims can lose themselves in nature, enjoy the magic of Creation and let the mountain’s serenity envelop them, away from traffic noise and punishing asphalt roads.

But tranquility comes at a price, one that could prove too steep for us. Route Napoléon isn’t just demanding, it’s also notorious for being dangerous and is frequently closed-off. Many pilgrims lost their lives in this section of the Camino de Santiago. And even when the passage is open, pilgrims must bear in mind that the weather is highly unstable and that a summer’s day in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port can quickly turn to winter up on the mountain.

In spite of the danger and the greater difficulty, Route Napoléon presented the most appealing challenge. We made all the necessary preparations to ease the mountain crossing two months in advance. We would break the stage in two and spend the night in Orisson, a mere eight kilometers from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. We scheduled the Pyrenees crossing for early May, guessing that we would not experience any major weather-related issues: the snow would be mostly cleared away by then, and the cold would be bearable. An assumption that could have cost us a great deal!

Yesterday, as we arrived at the pilgrim welcome center in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, we were told that a heavy snowfall had covered the area over the previous week and that authorities had closed-off the route for several days.

The good news was the route had just been reopened.

The bad news was that, even though forecasts were improving, the weather was still unstable and we couldn’t be sure of an uneventful crossing. We could just see it now: we would be caught in a snowfall up on the mountain, and we weren’t the least prepared for it. Still, we were encouraged to take Route Napoléon. Piqued by the challenge, we were leaning towards taking our chances, especially as outside the sun was shining bright with the promise of a magnificent day.

We received our first stamp on our brand-new Pilgrim Credentials and the scallop shells that would mark us as pilgrims of Santiago, to hang on our backpacks.

The night was far from being a pacifying influence. All through the night we were haunted by doubts, and the dawn did not help dispel them. We hoisted our backpacks, grabbed our walking staffs and walked out the door, only to be greeted by thick fog.

The big day couldn’t have been off to a better start!

We took the first steps of our Camino across the cobbled medieval streets of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, with warnings of unpredictable weather up on the mountain ringing in our heads. The town seemed to echo our steps and the taps of our walking staffs. Even our thoughts seemed to be returned to us in those silent, empty streets.

The way out of town led us to that famous fork in the road, the culprit for the doubts that had afflicted us since the day before. We could still take the Valcarlos Route, but we decided against it. Something inside us had whispered: that was not our Camino.

We made our way up Route Napoléon.

In spite of the thick fog that kept us from seeing more than two meters ahead, we managed to follow the yellow arrow signs that will lead us all the way to the Apostle’s Tomb. In that moment, we yielded to the mountain’s call and put our fate in the hands of Santiago. A blessed moment that filled us to the brim with courage.

As we clambered up those first few slopes to a soundtrack of invisible cowbells and birdsong, the fog began to fade along with our doubts. The sun brought on a new day, casting away for good the blanket of fog which had clouded our sight, revealing at last bright green meadows speckled with flowers of exuberant colors outlining the sloping curves of valleys and hills. It was truly a landscape traced by the hand of the Creator, and we were a part of it, even if only for a short while.

The Camino has made us conquer steep, punishing slopes, but gave us heavenly sights in return. Were that life could always be this fair. It would be nice to see our efforts, our persistence and courage always so rewarded. Well, today they were! And for that we could be nothing if not grateful.

But why must people ever be unhappy with the rewards of their efforts? The problem may sometimes lie in our idea of reward. How often can we really see as rewards these unique opportunities to bask in all of nature’s splendor? To feel the hot sun embrace our skin? To taste the soft breeze that gently rocks the trees? Or enjoy a sunset with someone we love? Maybe the problem is in not giving the proper value to these small-big things and their inherent purity. We have lost focus. We have lost the ability to wonder. We have forgotten to give thanks. We have taken for granted so many things. Too many things...

In order to enjoy the sun we must first walk in the rain; to enjoy warmth we must first be cold; to appreciate water we must first be thirsty.

This train of thought had us thinking back on our shared lives. The last few years have been hard but, like a good, solid team, we remain together, and our Love grows stronger with each beaten obstacle, with each mountain climbed. Our Love is worth all the pain, sweat and tears.

So was our Camino today, worthy of all our aches and fears. The universe conspired in our favor and we winked back in gratitude.

We’ve been in Orisson since lunch time, and what a pleasure it was, enjoying a meal with the vastness of the Pyrenees spread out at our feet. We spent the afternoon talking with the other pilgrims. Their reasons for being on the Camino are still as shrouded in mist as the morning had been, but everyone’s spirits are high with the joy of having conquered day one.

Of the many people we met today, we felt a greater connection with three: two Canadians, Lauren and Ellen, both in their fifties, and an Englishwoman, Nancy, some ten years younger.

Lauren has a huge positive attitude and seems to be a veritable well of tolerance. She radiates serenity and her joy is contagious. She started adventure traveling very young, and we hit it off immediately. As passionate as we are for traveling, this was inevitable.

Ellen is a vivacious woman in her fifties who wants to live life to the fullest. Her head was shaved, so we imagined she had recently gone through chemotherapy. As it turned out, she had not. Ellen shaves her head to raise money for the fight against cancer. It is people like her, anonymous people, who helped save both our mothers.

As for Nancy, even though she was born in Cambridge, she has lived in Goa for the last five years, in a small coastal village on the outskirts of Palolem. She is walking the Camino alone and she has many misgivings. Her physical fitness is far from ideal, but the first section is done now and she is battling her fears (aren’t we all?) One day at a time! That’s the Camino... Just like life. If we only knew how to hold on to this serenity, how to drink from life each day as intensely as on the Camino de Santiago!

The day ahead will be a hard one! We have eighteen long kilometers to go before we get to Roncesvalles, without a single, solitary village in between. It will be just us, nature, and of course, the other pilgrims. Even though this is only the second stage, it will be one of the hardest in the entire Camino. We are a little scared, sure, but the day filled us with courage and we have faith that all will go well. Because in life we do indeed need faith.

* * *

Watching the sunrise high up in the Pyrenees felt like an invitation to God’s balcony. Slowly, light broke through the darkness. The moon withdrew as if she were ashamed, giving way to the sun quietly creeping up behind the mountains. The stillness that had ruled over the night gradually yielded to the sounds of waking nature. The early birds abandoned their trees. A herd of deer ran through the woods alongside the path and far away in the distance, the sound of cowbells rang. It was a grand display, orchestrated by a maestro who did not require applause. We bloomed like a flower! It was the solace we needed to conquer the first slopes of the day.

As we drew near to the Collado Lepoeder, the highest point of the Pyrenees passage, the landscape grew starker: the thick woods denied us their presence in favor of the naked, craggy prairie; their green hues often hid beneath the blinding white snow that had closed-off Route Napoléon only a few days earlier. Just as the landscape bared itself from the exuberant greenery of the forest, so did physical exhaustion bare our spirit of its morning cheer.

We were out of breath and dog-tired by the time we reached the top and stepped on Spanish soil. A worn Jacobite mark signaled the conquest and gave us a low-ball estimate of how many kilometers separated us from Roncesvalles. The smiles on our faces were both tentative and confident, but also every bit sincere. We took a deep