Tag Archives: hills

Camiño light

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There are two kinds of Camino – a fact I discovered quite soon after we began our pilgrimage. There is Camino “heavy” and then there is Camino “light”.

When we set out we decided we’d attempt to do Camino heavy. This means walking the way and carrying everything you will need in your back pack. However little you pack, it’s still too much and by the end of the day your shoulders and basically everything aches!

But there is also Camino light. Pilgrims taking this option will have a company which takes their main luggage on to the next stop and they are then free to just carry their essentials like water, money, a hat and maybe a jumper. These ‘light’ pilgrims have skipped past me on numerous occasions, speeding by in the overtaking lane while I plodded under a bit of a burden. But, it is my Camino and I could have chosen to send my baggage on… I had chosen to tough it out and feel noble.

There are many ways to be humbled. Mine came two days ago when I suffered an injury going down a steep path. No matter how much ice and painkillers I took, I was barely going to be able to walk, let alone carry a heavy pack.

Have you heard the phrase – two are better than one? Actually, it’s a Bible verse from Ecclesiastes 4: “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labour: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.”

Thankfully I am walking the Camino with someone who seems to like me quite a lot and does a good job of holding me up when I fall down. I didn’t send my backpack on via taxi, but I was able to offload most of my heavy stuff into my husband’s rucksack.

Suddenly, here I was walking Camino light!

Yesterday we set off on one of the toughest parts of this Camino called the Spiritual Variant. It takes you over the hills to the coast, then you go by boat following the route St James’ body was supposed to have travelled in a miraculous journey in a stone boat, guided by angels, which ended up in the city of Padron. This became the original starting point for the pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.

As we left the town of Pontevedra there were dozens of pilgrims flowing out of the town in the early morning. I’d never expected it to be so crowded. But as soon as we came to the junction where we turned off on the Spiritual Variant, we were almost alone and we breathed a sigh of relief as we headed into the hills. We were now a bit unbalanced – one of us was on Camino light and the other was on Camino very heavy!

We got through the never ending ups of yesterday and arrived at the monastery of Armenteira, high up in the hills of Galatia. We had made it – injured Camino light and stalwart Camino heavy!

I was hoping for more of the same today, but sadly the pain in my leg worsened. The only option was for the pack to go altogether. I hobbled on “pack less”, (Camino air?) while my military trained husband wore two packs!

Twenty four km later and with about 37,000 steps behind us we arrived at the coast. A swim in the sea was a must and now we are both in Camino ‘rehab’ with a glass of red wine.

There are just two more days of walking left until we reach Santiago… I am hoping the beautiful partnership of light and heavy Camino can stay the course!

Follow that goat

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I think that maps are overrated. For one thing they can be misleading and often give a false sense of security. I’ve had maps which I have followed religiously and yet still found myself miles off route. And this has nothing to do with my map reading, but is entirely due to careless map drawing. So, yesterday on a little trek through the Troodos foothills, I was skeptical about the accuracy of the maps posted at the start of the trail.

After a shaky start when two of our band of three thought the right direction was on the opposite side of the road, we admitted our error and paced off down the tarmac to the correct path a few hundred yards in the other direction. Point of clarification: I didn’t have my glasses with me, so took myself off map reading duty for the day.

Error 1 seemed to occur when we turned right up hill on a promising track that eventually came to a dead end. But we ploughed on. I was convinced the track had just become overgrown and it would magically appear through the steep undergrowth. A lot of sheep tracks later and we were half way up a steep hillside, with no way to go but up and no path in sight. After a rather hairy and what seemed like bramble and rock filled route, we spotted the track we had been seeking half a valley away. Luckily it wasn’t long before we stumbled on our original path which had wound its way up the hillside sensibly. We let out a cheer for paths and thought how good they were. Even when it was hard going, two of us were saying gratefully, “well, at least it’s a path.” We didn’t know what lay ahead!

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A little while later at the top of a lot more hills, lunch was a sumptuous affair and there was even a bench to sit on with a panoramic view and a shack with a window (in case it was raining!). From our viewpoint we heard the tinkle of bells and in the distance what looked like a herd of sheep, running along a grassy ridge parallel to ours. That we decided would be our route back. There was a problem however, because there was no direct path connecting us. The map was consulted and it was decided we would follow a riverbed down a valley which, quite simply, would connect us with the path we were seeking and our ‘shortcut’ back.

The herd of white sheep, who turned out to be a species of giant goat, suddenly appeared ahead of us on the path. Veering off Kamikaze-like into the sheer hillside either side as soon as they spotted us. We wondered later which route they had taken and I thought it was a shame they hadn’t hung around a bit for us to take directions. But I’m afraid goats are like that…very hasty!

We headed off optimistically across some medium height undergrowth following our leader. The goats had made it somehow, so how difficult could it be? Ten minutes later he was beating back the Mediterranean jungle with his feet (where are walking sticks when you need them?). The trees and bushes were getting larger and more dense and there was no path in sight.

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Spring in Cyprus means the snakes are just waking up from their long winter sleep. So I did a bit of calling out to let them know we were coming, “Snakes! calling all snakes!” Because we didn’t want to step on their heads or anything. The mention of the ‘snake’ word added the extra adrenalin needed to pick up speed and find the path ahead as quickly as possible. So no matter how many fallen trees trunks had to be clambered over or under, there was no turning back.

The result of all this trekking through undergrowth was that my carefully epilated legs now offered a good base for a game of noughts and crosses with the pattern of scratches left from brambles. Eventually we found a dried up riverbed heading down an overgrown valley which we stumbled our way down. Between the sliding bed of rocks, the bramble strewn hillside and hidden holes and ditches, it was amazing we made it out at all. When we did eventually find a path, someone made a tentative suggestion about going in search of another path on the other side of the valley. But having found our way back no one was keen to return to the ‘jungle’ – let’s not push our luck, miraculously we had survived without twisted limbs or snakebites, despite our best efforts.

Along the track we discussed which route the goats might have taken and we noticed signs of them on the ground with hoof marks and other smellier offerings visible to the discerning tracker. They had definitely passed this way.

Next time I think taking a goat with us could be a lot more useful than a map!