Trail friends

Trail friends: They walk (literally) into your life. You are surprised, delighted, warmed, nourished. The connection is unlike any other.

I met Kiki on the afternoon of the first day hiking the Camino Francés as we trudged up the French side of the Pyrenees, me with a backpack I knew was too heavy, not to mention the heaviness in my heart (there, I mentioned it anyway), she with her own stuff-of-life stuff. We bonded over word play and favorite authors. And then we separated that first night, found each other the next day, separated again, and went in and out of each other’s trail lives for a week until we figured out we belonged together.

A year later, I met Amy on day four of the Camino Portuguese. I was settling into the bottom bunk at a beyond “rustic” albergue that used to be a convent. (Beyond rustic definition: metal bunkbeds, no privacy curtains, one bathroom for 15 women.) A youngish woman with a baby walked into the dorm room, and I thought: Oh, perfect, now in addition to the snorers and the creaky-in-the-middle-of-the-night bunkbeds, there will be a crying baby. But Sasha, the baby in question, turned out to be the happiest, calmest baby ever. Amy was a deeply caring but completely matter-of-fact mother who was—oh yeah, right—walking 200 miles with a 17-pound baby strapped to her front.

Amy and I did not see each other on the trail for a few days after this, and then, we seemed to cross paths all the time. We walked together parts of five days. We talked about motherhood and marriage and dreams and gardens. When we stopped for coffee, or once for dinner, we took turns holding Sasha.

I met Martha and Ira on the Ridgeline Trail, just a mile from my house, two and a half years ago when I started hiking to prepare for that first Camino. It’s a narrow, up-and-down trail that winds through an urban forest. It is not crowded. You see the same few people at the same time. Recognition starts with a nod and a smile, then a quick hello, then introductions, then, bit by bit, little pieces of your lives. At first the easy stuff: where you’ve traveled, what you do for a living, animals in your life. And then, ever so slowly, titrated, the other stuff, the family stuff, the sturm und drang. Until you realize: Whoa. We know each other. All those minutes standing by the side of the trail add up.

And then there is the trail friend I’ve only once hiked with, and only for less than an hour. But she, Lydia, is how I came to know about the Camino. Which is why I started training, and how I met Martha and Ira, and later, how I met Kiki and Amy. She is the hub of this wheel.