The hard part

The hard part is not the walking.

That’s what I thought the hard part would be before I walked the Camino Francés last October. That’s what everyone who dreams about or plans to walk a Camino thinks. Can I hike that far? Can I walk 15-18 miles a day, every day, over rocky paths, up steep inclines, down narrow winding trails, over slippery cobblestones? Can I do that and wake up the next morning and do it again? Is it safe? How do I train?

The hard part is not the gear.

That’s what I thought the hard part would be as I agonized over details last year and again this year. That’s what everyone thinks who plans to walk. The deep dive into footware. Hiking boots, trail shoes, running shoes? Two pairs? One? Socks? The obsessing over rain jackets v ponchos. A silk liner? Do I need a sleeping bag? What should be part of my medical kit? Do I bring my hiking poles or buy them there? The endless (often repetitive) questions posed in chat groups.

The hard part is not the sleeping.

That’s what I thought the hard part would be before I walked the Camino Portuguese this September. That’s what everyone thinks before they walk. Where will I stay every night? Should I book ahead? Can I deal with night after night of sleeping in mixed (as in female/ male) “dorms” with bunkbeds, rubber mattress covers, shared bathrooms, snorers? On the websites and chatgroups, potential and on-the-road pilgrims fret over availability of albergues and agonize about bed bugs.

No. The hard part is this:

Being with yourself in the moment.

And the harder part is this: Being with yourself in the moment when you return home.