During my social media sharing of our adventure on the Camino Frances to Santiago de Compostela, some asked me what was my spiritual goal for becoming a pilgrim. I had a ready answer: to give thanks and praise to God for a life filled with blessings. After all, what can we give God: He needs nothing from us. He desires our love, and merits our praise and obedience. but how do you operationalize that, especially during retirement?
So I chose to go on a pilgrimage as a sign of respect and obedience and faith: God has given me so much, I should accept what He has in mind in this endeavor, too. I naively anticipated spending a lot of time in prayer at exquisite, ancient churches, long hikes on a smooth trail under a favorable sun, deep discussions with fellow pilgrims about the meaning of life.
What is that old saw? “If you want to make God smile, tell him your plans.”
What my wife and I got was something far more physically and emotionally challenging than we anticipated, despite many hours of training and over a 
hundred-and-fifty practice miles of hikes in the mountains of Mexico. The biggest challenges proved to be the keys to what God wanted me to learn, or at least that’s what I have discerned upon further reflection. Those challenges were: first, the overly positive view of the camino I absorbed from guidebooks and online sites, and second, the relentlessly, freakishly bad weather which seemed to follow us like Joe Btfsplk! (Lil’ Abner character if you don’t know; he always has a rain cloud over him)
(Blogger’s note: I covered this first learning point once previously here, so if you want to skip forward, please do. Go to the paragraph which begins “The second challenge was the weather.”)
Some who walk the camino have a remarkable spiritual experience that helps clarify the rest of life. They truly love the camino and want others to have the same type of experience. They often go back and do multiple routes or the same route multiple times, learning new things all the time. In their passion for what the camino has provided to them, they have a tendency to overlook how the camino might be experienced by other new pilgrims. They begin to describe steep hills as “gently rolling terrain,” forget about the dreadfully bad trail conditions going up and downhill, or just how truly dangerous the weather can get. I took such advice without the necessary grain of salt, and we (my wife and I) found ourselves in some very bad circumstances.
When we survived these situations, my relief quickly changed to anger, then rage. Neglecting to mention such challenges, or minimizing them, puts people at needless risk. This isn’t a question of “learning to overcome challenges”; as a former soldier, I know how that works, and it doesn’t involve exposing others to risk by failing to inform them. During my long camino hiking days, I wondered why God led us into such situations, and was I overreacting? Anger is a tricky emotion, as it can easily lead to all kinds of sin. I kept coming back to the notion of righteous anger: anger that is justified. Think Jesus with the money-changers in the Temple, Saints James (yes, Santiago himself) and John calling for vengeance, or “wipe the dirt from your feet” (Matthew 10:14).
Why would the Lord want me to experience such anger? What could it teach me? Prompted by the Holy Spirit, the thought occurred to me that I was tasting a small sample of God’s righteous anger at humanity as we fail him day after day after day. His justice would seem to necessitate severe punishment, and yet He relents, due to His Divine Mercy. My take was I was given this taste of divine anger to learn how to show divine mercy. Long way to go on that one, but at least I think I know what I am working toward.
The second challenge was the weather. If we had experienced even average weather for May in Spain, our camino would have been more enjoyable. I have to admit, the weather reminded me of the major military exercises I was involved with over 30 years ago in Germany (ReForGer, anyone?). It seemed like those exercises always occasioned long periods of gloom and rain. Bad weather is just one of those things that can affect any trip: so what?
This one was harder to understand. The poor weather interfered with my ability to pray as much as I intended: I had to focus on the slippery trail, the foggy route, or how hard the rain was falling. We had to spend more time on simple things like doing laundry, or finding something warm to drink, and less time visiting shrines or taking in the beauty of the countryside. So my initial reaction was that the bad weather was just bad luck.
When I returned home, one conversation I had on the walk up the mountain to O’Cebreiro kept coming back to me. The weather was cool that morning, and the fog dissipated. The clouds were thick but nonthreatening, permitting a little better view of the climb ahead of us and the valley behind us. For once, I was a little less obsessed with the weather, but still tired and not looking forward to the long uphill climb.
Another pilgrim approached me along the way; I recognized him as someone who had been staying in some of the same towns, someone we had passed or had passed us numerous times. As he passed by me, I gave him a lackluster “Buen camino” and he responded with a hearty “it sure is! What a lovely day.” “Really?” I intoned. He explained that this is one of his favorite parts of the camino, and the weather was perfect for it. He had walked the Camino Frances several times, the earliest being back in the 1980s, before it was so popular. He remembered when O’Cebreiro, our goal for the day, was little more than a church and a few barns on top of the mountain. Now it’s a quaint little purpose-built village of bars, albergues, shops, and that church.
I admitted that I wasn’t feeling that warm, fuzzy glow about the camino he clearly was. He took that as a challenge. “Where else can you get a view of beautiful mountains and lush green valleys like this?” he asked. He didn’t expect my retort: “From my house.” “But what about the weather?” he parried. I replied, “Clearly better at home. I would be in shorts and sunglasses at home.” “Fair enough,” he continued, “but here on the camino you can meet total strangers and make quick friends over a meal, or a walk. Can you do that where you live?” Why, yes, I thought, that is exactly like where I live! But I didn’t say it: I simply smiled and told him, “Ok, buen camino!”
That conversation eventually came back to me as a second spiritual growth point. Many people fall in love with the camino because it is so different from where or how they live. That wasn’t going to happen for me, because I already experience those advantages every day. I went on the camino in thanksgiving for blessings received: God was showing me that it need not necessarily have been that way. It is easy to accept blessings and become accustomed to them, especially when they seem so constant. I think the constant bad weather was a little reminder to enjoy what I already have, and to not take it for granted.
So I met my spiritual goals, even if it didn’t work out the way I anticipated. Pilgrims like to talk about finding “your way” on the camino. Sometime we have to remember what Jesus said: “Yo soy el Camino…”
You really know how to give the truth. I appreciate that. I didn’t make it all the way to Santiago. I did train but not enough. I have a bum hip and knee and the “gentle rolling hills” took a toll on me. I really had no idea that every single day there would be loads of hills to climb and descend in various kinds of trails. To include boulders and such. Breirley’s guide is pure bogus. I went home after I explored Burgos. I felt angry a lot on the trail and I cried a lot. I do , however, still think about it and plan to go back and do the last 100 KM. I was looking for something spiritual. I traveled many many places so “THE VIEWS” and scenery were beautiful but I’ve seen many equally, if not , more outstanding places. It was kind of a let down. I have reflected much and I am so grateful for the way I am and the way I live. I enjoyed all your posts from the Camino. Thanks.
Like you and Julie, Patrick and Judy, I have gained perspective on what my unique Camino has come to mean to me. My few blissful walking days plus my subsequent wounded-feet bus-Camino forced unmet expectations. However, I faced profound humility and the ability to meet God on the road with spiritually, physically, mentally, and emotionally “weary feet.” The metaphor also serves me to appreciate my preexisting blessings. I was able to walk into every moment of now, despite the false narratives reported in movies and books and blogs. Granted, other pilgrims experienced each mile with starry eyes and far more excellent weather than you faced. That my Camino was only two weeks in front of you speaks to the random quality — or not — of your miserable rain.
The available lessons must be exactly what we needed to learn as the difficulties continue to unfold. Pilgrims held up mirrors to me, whether in their international wonderfulness or through their complex faults. Certainly I experienced helpful soulmates. Others needed me as humble helpmates. Two months along my unusual Camino provided a stressful yet transformational balance of endurance and overcoming. As one wisdom teacher described my journey, it was through “the good and the bad that it became the accomplishment of a lifetime.”
So were all of yours.