A Camino Prayer

See you in 3 minutes... Or 3 days ... Or 3 months - whichever applies

"See you in three minutes," they would say as they passed us on the narrow trails of the Camino.  Sure enough, in three minutes they would be sitting in the shade.  A cheery wave would welcome us to their new place of refuge from the sun, and as we strolled on by one would be sure to say, "see you in three minutes."  "They" were two teenaged boys walking the first part of el Camino with their parents.  While it was a obvious they were a close family, they chose to spend this day playing  "see you in three minutes" with us. Toward the end of a long day, they had been separated from their parents for over four hours, and it was obvious they were becoming a little nervous.  We helped them regain contact, and the last time I saw them was sitting outside the albergue where I was staying.  "See you in three minutes," I joked ... And just like that they were gone out of my life.

A long time ago I read a Readers Digest article written by a family member of a Canadian soldier.  The gist of the story was that the author was bemoaning the  the fact that because she was an "army brat" her life was a continuous series of saying hello and goodbye.  No sooner would she make a friend than she would have to tell her friend she was moving, and say goodbye. She felt sorry for herself until one day she realized that that was what life is: a series of hellos and goodbyes.  

In SJPDP the other day, we met people whom we may never see again, and we met people we may see again in three days.  Some I hope I do: 72 yr old from San Fransisco - "see you in three days". Mystery man from Russel, ON - "see you in three days."

On the way up the mountain on day one, very near the top but with one major hill left to climb, we passed two ladies from Finland.  They looked distressed - the younger one stopping often, so often that I asked her is she was OK.  Did she need food or water?  We were 8 hours in to a gruelling day, and there's no way to know how many it may have taken them to get that far. She assured me she was all right, so we passed them by.  They were near the top, but at that point there was no way of knowing how near.  

An hour later, during a long descent there another lady was under a tree.  It was beginning to get dark on this wooded decline, and she said, "I'm waiting for my friends". She also was from Finland, and we told her we had passed an hour ago, assured her they were still coming but were moving very slow.  As of yet, we have not seen any of them again.  Lorraine said if they made it to Ronscevalles at least two of them would have bought an immediate flight back to Finland.  I don't know ... But to them I say a hopeful, "See you in three days." 

As I write this, a man whom I can hardly understand (and I know he can't understand my Grand Manan Englisjh) have just had a ten minute talk.  He's shutting up the albergue for the night and I'm writing in the enclosed courtyard.  We struggle to communicate well, but as he walked away he turned back and said, "Buen Camino, Bon Chemin", to which I simply replied, "Gracias. See you in three minutes."

Strength to climb - Day 1

An old gospel song says:

Lord here I am again down in my knees in prayer

And Lord you promised me that you would always meet me there

Now there's a mountain up ahead that I can't seem to climb

But I'm asking for the strength to try it one more time

Lord don't move that mountain

Just give me strength to climb

For if you should move each mountain 

I'd grow weaker every time

So just as your Son Jesus

Took that cross up Calvary's hill

Oh Lord don't move that mountain 

So I may better do your will.

Lorraine and I sang that song as we walked hill after hill after hill on Sunday.  The Napoleonic route from Saint Jean Pied de Port was as demanding as everyone said it would be.  It was a beautiful day, and not too hot (mid 20's) so in that way we were blessed. There is only one stopping place on the 27 km route, and unfortunately is is only about 6 km in, but it has a 770 meter elevation so took us three hours to do it with several stops to exclaim over the beauty of the Pyrenees vistas, (and exclaim over the aches and pains that were becoming evident so soon!)

Many people stopped at Orisson, but many were still going on so at 12:30 we started back up.  The rest of the ascent would not be so dramatic, but by that do not read that it was any less easy.  Any day you carry your back pack up hill for 8 solid hours, and then find a steep two hour descent is not going to be an easy day.  If we had not done the Fundy Footpath two years ago, we would have easily describe this as the most difficult day of our lives.  But because we had done the Footpath, near the end of the day I surprisingly heard Lorraine say, "This is a piece of cake!." I know that was just a pep talk she was giving herself, but although we were exhausted, at no time did we ever feel overwhelmed.

We passed some people who were overwhelmed, and for whom we feared for their safety. During the last part of the day, we (along with most other climbers) assumed that we were at the top of the ascent, and the only thing left was the 1700 meters down.  We were wrong! We rounded a corner and saw another significant ascent (200 meters).  When your mind is thinking all it has left to do is go down, it does not take kindly to being forced back up! I don't know the name of this hill, but I affectionately dubbed it the "Dirty Rotten Trick of the Spanish".  I was only that generous because I am a preacher and don't make a habit of using stronger language! 

On that last ascent two ladies from Finland were obviously struggling. We offered to help them with food and water but they insisted they were OK.  I pray they were. We never saw them again (which is not unusual) and at the speed they were walking it woud be well after dark before they reached the days end.  Buen Camino, ladies from Finlnad.  Buen Camino.

The Eve of our 40th ... the Eve of our 1st!

Three editorial notes before I start the blog

1 - I'm writing this on Saturday night, but we have no internet today so who knows when it will get posted 

2 - When I write offline, I have no access to pictures, so won't be able to dress up the blog page like I'd prefer.

3.  There will always be more pictures on my Face Book page than there will be in this blog.  So feel free to follow me over there as well.

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So here we are on the Eve of our 40th Anniversary, sleeping in a hostel with 8 people we have never met, seven of whom speak only French, and the other hasn't spoken so far, though he entered the room in his undies, so I guess that's speaking something!

So how did we get here, and where is here?

We got to Saint Jean Pied de Port (henceforth known as SJDPD) on Friday, Aug. 22, after a long trip from Paris.  We had a little bit of a scare shortly after our 7:30 pm arrival, when we realized we didn't know how to go about finding a room.  All of the obvious hotels were full, and SJPDP is confusing enough at first glance that we didn't know how to find the non-obvious ones.  Everything official was closed, and we don't operate well in French so help was not easy to find.  We finally found a busy bar, that had a sign that I think said "Addresses for Bed and Breakfasts" and asked them. He gave us an address, and directions, but the gruff woman who opened the door said simply "No reservation, no bed".  We were at least now on the old section of town that really caters to the pilgrims, and after tentatively knocking and opening a few doors, a nice younger lady welcomed us into her home.  She has 2 rooms, one with 8 beds and one with 4.  She took one look at Lorriane and said, "Eight beds not for you.  You can have room with four beds, and tonight it's just you two." 

And that's how we ended up with a good nights sleep on the pre-Camino weekend.

Saturday - today - we carried our bags around town most of the day, and got ourselves acclimated somewhat.  Breakfast was 14.00 Euro for bread and jam and a thimble of coffee.  Normally I wouldn't pay a penny over 13.50 for this, but we were really hungry, and there were no options. By dinner time we had scouted out the town enough that we thought we knew our top three choices of albergues (which we could start to try to access at 3:00 pm), had found the bank machine, the tourist office, a couple of grocery stores, the Camino Office to register and as a bonus met several people.

Speaking of close to home, one man who starts the Camino tomorrow (meaning we will probably cross paths several times in the next few days) that grew up in Russel, ON, and went to school at NDDHS. That's the school my kids attended. Small world!  Any of my friends know someone from Russel who is walking his second Camino? 

Other people we met today:

- Martin - from Conneticut has been very helpful both yesterday and today.

- a woman from Maine - will probably see her again.  Even with my limited (and I do mean limited French) I was able to help her through the Registration process.

- two ladies from Sheet Harbour, NS. 

- Lorraine met a happy conversationalist from Ireland on thhe bus.

So here we are on the Eve of our 40th Anniversary, sleeping in a hostel with 8 people we have never met, seven of whom speak only French, and the other hasn't spoken so far, though he entered the room in his undies, so I guess that's speaking something!

So here we are on the Eve of our 1st Camino, sleeping in a hostel with 8 people we have never met, seven of whom .... Yes, I know you've heard all that.  So I'll sign off but first let me say:

I live you baby.  You stuck with me through 40 years of life.  Hopefully we can abide 1 Camino together as well.

An Island Awash With Grief

They say, "your Camino starts the moment you walk out your door."  They may be right.  While waiting for the plane in Ottawa, we spied a man and woman with back packs, and I thought it would be funny if they were peregrinos.  We sat across the aisle from them on the 45 minute flight to Montreal, found out they were returning pilgrims, and they gave us some good hints.  The Camino ... it starts outside your door.

It works for the Camino of the Soul as well.  I guess the best way to describe what I mean by Camino of the Soul is to compare it to the physical.  If in a physical pilgrimage your feet hurt, and your muscles cry for relief, then in a Soul Camino one should expect some measure of spiritual discomfort.

So, that's why I say my Soul Camino started before my actual walk on the Way of Saint James.  Today my soul aches.  In my last post I mentioned the people of Grand Manan.  Most of my readers will know that is the island which I call home.  A small island in the Bay of Fundy on Canada's east coast.  It consists of several small hamlets with a total population of 2500.  Though it is 43 years since I lived there, it is still home. 

And this week my home Is awash in grief.   Literally awash. 

Four weeks ago, the lovely and talented high school valedictorian was killed in a car accident.  Every Grand Mananer, no matter where they lived in the world felt as if a piece of them had died with Danielle.  It mattered not that many of us never met her - we grieved deeply with the family, our family.

Four weeks later life was beginning to feel normal, or at least it felt like the fog might someday lift. But when the people awoke last Saturday, they heard the terrible news of the early morning crash of the local medivac plane.  Klaus, the owner and pilot, an island resident since 1982, lost his life as did Billy, a paramedic and life long resident of "home". "Enough God", the island cried. "How much grief can we take?" But then all too soon it was Sunday, and the news of Nick, another graduate of 2014.  Gone far too soon.

So as I leave Canada for my Camino, my Island is literally awash with grief.  And with them, my Soul struggles in Camino.  

So dear friends of home, I may never breathe your name in verbal prayer, but my feet will ache with you, and pray for you every day.  I wish I could do more, but then so does everyone else ...

"Praying with your feet"

That's how Nathan Green, a friend of mine, defines a pilgrimage: 'Praying with your feet!"

I resonate mightily with that description.  On my 60th birthday, I felt compelled to do a 60km walk - a prayer walk around and around our small town.  The 17 km before breakfast was a snap, and praying was easy.  But around the 22 km mark, my feet began to blister and I could tell this was going to be a long, long day.  8 km later I learned that 30 is not anywhere near half of 60.  (Walk sixty km some day and you'll learn what I mean.)  I can take you to the spot in the road where I told God, "I have no strength left to formulate thoughts and words, so you are going to have to accept that for the rest of this day, every step is a prayer."

Today at the airport, while waiting for our first flight someone I had just met asked me the purpose of my Camino. I replied that it was a celebration of 40 years of marriage, and we had an interesting talk. (He was in town to celebrate his 50th, which made me fee like just a child or a newly wed)

It's true - the official reason for our Camino is to celebrate our 40th Anniversary, but we've read and researched enough to know that there is something more. Part of the "more" is to pray ... and mostly without words.  On any given day if you ask,"What did you pray about?", I think I'll have to say, "I don't know".  But I know I prayed. My "feet" prayed

I haven't started walking yet, in fact as I write this I'm somewhere over the Atlantic (I always wanted to say that) but I feel that my feet have started praying.  And maybe, just maybe, they are praying for you. 

If you are a resident of Grand Manan, I know they are praying for you.  But more about that in the next posting.  Look for it under the title "Camino of the Soul".

From the local paper

The Winchester Press, (our local weekly paper - click picture to go to their site) did an article previewing our fast-approaching trek.  I'm not sure how long their articles stay on line, so will put it here for my friends to read.

Through the steps of history, Browns prep for 800-km trek

by Matthew Uhrig
Press staff

WINCHESTER – “Right now, it has gotten to the point where I don’t sleep at night because I am so excited, wishing I was already there.” 

Thurland Brown’s anticipation is almost palpable as he discusses one of the biggest adventures of his life.

“I just hope I don’t wish I was home when I get there,” he said with a laugh.

If there is apprehension, however, it is unnoticeable, as the day of the pilgrimage draws near.

Brown, pastor at Winchester Wesleyan Church, and his wife, Lorraine, will soon be setting out on the Way of St. James, which is most commonly known by its Spanish name, El Camino de Santiago.  

The many routes meander through the French countryside as walkers make their way to the shrine of the apostle St. James the Great, located at the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostella in Galicia in northwestern Spain. Local lore has it that the remains of the saint are buried there, with many taking up the route as a way of retreating from the burdens of daily life and in order to achieve spiritual growth.

“I don’t think anyone can walk it and be unchanged,” Brown said.

Today, tens of thousands of mainly Christian travellers and many others set forth from doorsteps or various popular starting points throughout Europe to make their way to the cathedral. Most, as is the case with the
Browns, travel by foot, and some by bicycle, while others take a page from their medieval counterparts and circumnavigate a route on horseback.

“What is amazing to us is how many people from Canada [or North America] do this walk,” Lorraine said. “We thought we’d be something by doing this, but we’re just two in a bunch.”

Pilgrims will walk for weeks or months to visit the Spanish city, as the routes available total more than 800 kilometres and feature some treacherous conditions, including sweltering heat and rough terrain.

“It is both a spiritual and physical thing for us,” Brown said.

His journey to this point is similar to many his age, as from birth to his 40s, Brown admits he was able to keep in decent shape naturally, with little to no effort.

But then things changed, and he fell into a pattern typical of many – lazy eating and exercise habits.

In 2010, his doctor said the word he had been dreading to hear – diabetes.

“But I told him, if you can handle this with diet and exercise, you’ll never give me medication,” Brown said. “For me, it was a matter of turning back the biological clock because 95 per cent of North American diseases are exercise and diet related.”

And so it goes that a health scare led Brown to examine his physical state, and commit to making an improvement. By the spring of 2011, both a diabetes nurse and nutritionist were steadfast that Brown should be walking at least 10,000 steps a day, a fact the good pastor initially scoffed at.

Eventually he came around, however, and took up bicycling as a form of exercise. But it was not a hobby Lorraine was enthusiastic about, and soon the bicycles were ditched in favour of walking.

By the fall of that year, the couple took to walking and found they had a common bond, and enjoyed the physicality of the quest.

The walking soon graduated from casual strolls through the streets of town to daunting treks through the area’s countryside or daily trips down Gypsy Lane and back home again.

Two summers ago, the couple challenged themselves and took on the Fundy Footpath in New Brunswick. The strenuous 42-kilometre linear hike cuts along the shore of the Bay of Fundy, and consists of steep cable steps, jagged cliffs, mixed forests, and tidal rivers to cross.

By 2013, the couple began logging their distances travelled, with Brown boasting a total 3,200 kilometres walked that year. Throughout the winter, their plans for the El Camino de Santiago shifted into a higher gear, with both feeling compelled enough to go through with it.

“The mantra is ‘everyone walks their own Camino,’” Brown said. “That is what we’re abiding by. We’re not planning anything after we hit our destination, and this is no race.”

Late next month, on their 40th wedding anniversary no less, the Browns will set out, with their backpacks strapped tight and their walking sticks at the ready, from the community of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port in southwestern France, head over the Pyrenees mountains, and continue on across Spain. Along the way, the couple will be staying at various hostels located throughout the route for use by travellers of the walk.
Brown has taken a four-month sabbatical from the village church, as the couple will not return home until November. 

“As it gets closer, the nerves will probably start to kick in, but for now I’m more excited than anything,” Lorraine said. 

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