An Old Man & His Dog

On Monday, September 22^nd I met Sue and Pete at Milwaukee Mitchell International Airport to begin our adventure to Portugal and Spain. I learned quickly that flying standby can be challenging but luck was with us on the first day as we managed to catch a flight to Boston where we hoped to catch the evening flight to Lisbon. We waited patiently as the flight to Lisbon began to board, but soon grew nervous as the numbers looked like we would not make the flight. As we were formulating alternative plans, the gate agent ran over to let us know she would be able to get us onto the flight as two passengers were being removed due to their intoxication.

We were among the last passengers to board the plane as we counted our blessings. I, however, am not a good traveler. I am cursed with the inability to sleep on any moving vehicle. Fortunately, due to the Jetstream, the flight was completed in just about six hours. The next few days, we adjusted to the time change and leisurely explored both Lisbon and Porto. By chance we were in Porto at the same time as two of Pete and Sue’s friends and met up with them for a winery tour and lunch. On Friday, we obtained our credential stamp at the Porto Cathedral with a plan to start well before daylight the next morning. Our tentative plan was to tackle an average of 15 miles per day and stay at the local Albergue in each of the villages or cities we stopped in each night. An Albergue is a Spanish or Portuguese word for hostel or shelter. They typically consist of shared dormitories, communal kitchens and showers and are economical alternatives to hotels or private rentals.

When we awoke in the morning to begin our Camino, we were greeted by carolers as we readied our packs for our first day as pilgrims. We never found out the reason for the predawn carolers, but it set the tone for our quest. We arrived at the Porto Cathedral at 6:00 AM and after a short prayer for a safe journey and our private intentions, we began the Camino Portugues.

We descended from the Cathedral to the Duoro River and headed west along the river toward the Atlantic Ocean. We continued to snake our way along the river in the dark and made the Atlantic Ocean just after sunrise. In what became a familiar pattern, Pete led the way as our navigator and set the pace for the day. The weather forecast for the day called for the remnants of Tropical Storm Gabrielle to hit the Portugal coast sometime in the late afternoon so we were motivated to complete the approximately 17 miles to our first albergue in Vila Cha.

As I walked the first day, I noodled on why I had decided to walk the Camino Portugues. In the months leading up to the Camino I had begun to find a new rhythm to life without Amy. My daily battle with grief has slowly morphed into a realization that I need to savor each and every day I am given and to live life to its fullest. The question before me is “What does that look like?” I am proud of the fact that I have found a way to live with my grief by hiking and writing. They have become an integral part of my life, and they give me direction and purpose each day.

But I have struggled with envisioning a life alone for quite some time. Does my desire to perhaps share that journey mean my devotion to Amy is disingenuous? Is it wrong for me to seek happiness with another companion on my life journey? Whenever the topic comes up in conversation with friends and family, they assure me that Amy would want me to be happy in whatever form that takes. I know this to be true, I know it, but to date, I have felt more comfortable with leaving the possibility to fate.

As I pondered these questions, we made Vila Cha by two or three o’clock in the afternoon and settled into our albergue. There were two community rooms containing approximately 10 bunks per room. The albergue filled quickly as pilgrims raced to get settled in before the weather hit. The rain and wind hit later than expected overnight. Pete informed me (I slept through it) that it shook the walls a little and the rain was horizontal. By morning the rain was gone even if the wind was still a bit blustery making the ocean angry with large waves rolling ashore.

As the days passed, Pete, Sue and I fell into a familiar rhythm of walking, a break for a café con leche (expresso mixed with an equal amount of steamed milk), more walking, lunch, more walking, and reaching our destination. As we progressed toward our destination of the Cathedral Santiago De Compostela, we ate local fare, drank our share of beer and wine, and met some very wonderful people.

Foremost in my thoughts, however, was that burning question of companionship. Each day and evening, I was a witness to the most wonderful reminder of how special sharing a life with someone can be, Sue and Pete.

Their relationship is very different from my own experience, but every bit as wonderful and special. I was granted a rare opportunity to witness someone else’s relationship up close and personal for an extended period. I had a front row seat to Pete’s constant dry sense of humor, playful pokes at Sue, yet his obvious love and undying devotion to her. I observed Sue’s diligent dedication to her faith and family and loving frustration at Pete’s near constant teasing. I feel blessed to have been allowed to see the inner workings of their relationship and their love for each other. I wish that type of love for everyone.

One afternoon, we stopped for a beer and food in the small Village of Ponte Arnelas, Spain. As was typical, we sat outside the café where most shops set up tables and chairs for their patrons. As I sipped on my beer, I noticed an older gentleman at the next table alone with his dog. The dog would occasionally get restless and sit up as cars and people passed by. The old man would gently tap his faithful friend on the head and the dog would lay back down content to be by his owner. As I observed this man’s solitude, I came to face-to-face with the reality of living a life alone. It reaffirmed for me in an instant everything I have been thinking and feeling. If I am blessed with longevity in life, I want someone with whom I can share my adventures (like walking the Camino Portugues) and life. I cannot sit idly by and trust fate to offer me an opportunity. I must actively pursue it.

There is a saying amongst the pilgrims of the various Camino pilgrimages. It is “the Camino provides.” Whatever hardship you encounter, the Camino will find a way to provide for your material or spiritual need. My clarity did not come as I entered Cathedral Square in Santiago. It did not materialize in some grand epiphany or vision. It came as I sat in a sidewalk café on a folding chair in Ponte Arnelas, Spain. It came through the simple quiet solitude of an old man and his dog. The Camino provides.

To Be Continued . . .