My friend Don Shedd told me the experience of grief is solitary, and it is universal. Perhaps that is why so many grieving people do the Camino, which is at the same time both intensely solitary and intensely social.
Walking by oneself for hours or days, through a beautiful landscape, without the distraction of the radio or the television or the Internet, the dross begins to fall away. Walking with others, for hours or days, sharing this great adventure, can create deep connection with strange rapidity. I have told my life story, and have heard theirs. I have told my secrets to people who were strangers yesterday, and I have heard their secrets.
On Tuesday I walked alone. On Wednesday I walked with Ulf from Sweden, on Thursday with Peter from Australia. On Friday and Saturday I walked with Marianne from Canada and Lena from Germany. Today I chose again to walk alone.
I’ve identified three kinds of people on the Camino: those who have trouble going uphill, those who have trouble going down, and damned young people.
Peter from Australia turned up again tonight, and also Elizabeth from Ireland. Peter and Elizabeth are the only two I’ve met who are my age.
The Albergue
My room for tonight cost 5 Euros. I have 11 roommates. Evidently I am the only one who doesn’t snore. Loudly. The bathrooms are unisex, which probably bothers the ladies more than it bothers me. The peregrinos are also bound together in common misery by their blisters, some of which appear near fatal. Strangely, I’m also the only one who doesn’t have blisters. I’d like to tell that to Toni, who always teased me for having tender feet.
My Camino with Toni 
Thanks again, still with you and the spirit of Toni
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My wise Uncle Nat said about grief is you talk and you cry, then again you talk and cry. What a wonderful thing to actually move through your grief.
The beds don’t look too comfortable to me but I bet after a long hike they must look very inviting.
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Chris,
I feel privileged to be able to follow along via this blog. I was one of Toni’s SEM students (1977-1981) and later, a colleague (2009-10). (I also knew Don Shedd’s wife, Charlotte; she and my mother performed classical music recitals in the 1970s, and her youngest daughter was one of my childhood friends.)
Thank you for sharing your journey.
Sincerely,
Gwen
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Hi there, great to read of your progress – have been wondering how you’ve been doing since seeing you the day before you left. Actually dug out our DVD of ‘The Way’ movie over the weekend to refresh myself about where you are walking. Very glad to hear no blisters, and hopefully you packed earplugs to help deal with snoring roommates!
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Chris,
It’s interesting that already it seems to be a profound undertaking. Perhaps that reflects the frequent shallowness of modern tech-filled life. In any case, happy trails to you.
Chuck
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Good Morning Chris,
I’ve been reading your posts…
I too, have often found walking alone, reflecting on what is happening in my head and heart …. A soothing and heartwarming experience….
And at the same time …. It opens the door, allowing me to get out of my head… to be in the moment and to really feel life happening around me.
What a wonderful journey you are taking….
Helga Gregory
Senior Project Controls | Project Manager
Arup
77 Water Street New York NY 10005 USA
t: +1 212 896 3000 d: +1 212 896 3223
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http://www.arup.com
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Wonderful writing Chris. It seems you have us watching a video perched on your shoulder and listening to your thoughts. Thanks for sharing.
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Chris, are you sure you don’t snore? How can you tell?
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Impossible! I’ve never heard myself snore even a little bit!
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