Our Camino – Final Thoughts – April 12, 2013

Posted on June 23, 2014 by curibe2014

Buen Camino

We took a bus from Finisterre back to Santiago de Compostela. What had taken us four days to walk was covered in less than three hours. The landscape looked different from the confines of a bus and as we rode along we thought about how the Camino had affected us.

When we planned the trip, we doubted that we could make it from Sarria to Finisterre, we wondered if the pain in our hearts would amplify the inevitable pain in our legs, leaving us stranded in the middle of Spain. We were angry, secretly demanding that God explain himself via burning bush or a hand written apology, however we’d settle for a glimpse of Gus, walking along with us, maybe just slightly ahead. It was crazy of course but this particular “Camino” was a religious pilgrimage so why not? There were no notes of course and the ground was too wet for bushes to burn, even miraculous ones, and all we were ever saw were cows but as we walked, we marveled at how much the journey mirrored life.

There were ups and downs and whole areas of mud and sludge that threatened to bog us down. Forward progress went smoothly when “all water was under the bridge”, keeping us stagnant when it was not. We’d proceeded carefully trying to avoid all the “crap”, while others simply stepped in it, but more often than not the “crap” found us anyway.

We thought about how easily we had faith in odd things, like Ewan of MacAdventures (not MacTours) to whom we entrusted our money and personal belongings, not once worrying that our hotels would not be booked or our things would not be safely kept ahead of us; and that the Camino markers were official, always taking us where we needed to go even when they were spray painted on the road; along the side of a house, or a tree. Our struggle with faith therefore was not that we did not have it to throw around but that we had to keep it, even now, when things had gone horribly wrong.

The road to the end of the world was by far the most difficult part of our journey, but just when we wrestled with the idea that leaving Gus rocks, crosses and pictures was pointless and only adding to our misery, we’d met Andrew and Chris who lifted our spirits and were surprised to discover it was us who’d left the amazing rock they’d seen on their way out of Santiago after their own happenstance meeting.

We do not return ready to empty Gus’ room (if ever) or with any more clarity than when we left, but we proved to ourselves that we are stronger than we imagined having walked an average of 20km per day for ten days much like we’ve gotten up everyday since 6-24-12. The Camino has given us some peace knowing that while we will always love Gus and will miss him more with every passing day, we can walk in this new world. Buen Camino.

Until we meet again Gus.

Rock On Baby!

We are on our way.

Our Camino – Finisterre – April 11, 2013

Posted on June 21, 2014 by curibe2014

Onward Pilgrim

We woke up this morning to dark menacing clouds threatening a downpour at any second. Yesterday’s sun had been abducted by the force that insisted our walk be difficult to the end. It brought out our innate dispositions, with me tending toward optimism, insisting it would get sunny therefore going without my rain jacket and my husband tending towards pessimism going for the full rain armor. We set out early after our final “pilgrim’s breakfast” of toast and Iberian ham and cheese. Our legs and feet felt fresh for this final leg, we were sure we’d cover the next fifteen kilometers in record time.

The Camino continued to be a challenge, taking us through more mud, over bigger boulders, across swollen rivers and along partially washed out roads. We thought that after the beautiful Cathedral in Santiago, the ocean-side finishing village of Finisterre would be a disappointment but we were wrong. The sight of waves crashing against the beach as we made our way out of the mountains to walk along the shore was moving in ways we had not anticipated. Further ahead we caught a glimpse of our friends, Andrew and Chris, but they were walking too briskly and we could not catch up. That final ascent to the edge world was for us to walk alone.

As we neared town, we looked up towards the light house at the very edge of the peninsula, but it was barely visible. Like our journey without Gus, it was fitting that our final destination would be encased in fog. Mid-way up the final hill, just as we walked past the statue of a pilgrim appearing to lunge head first into the wind, a ferocious windstorm blew down the hill, pushing us back, but we persisted by taking on the statue’s stance to continue up the road.

The lighthouse was virtually deserted when we arrived, winds swirled and howled all around us, furious, as though we’d done something wrong. To get to the very edge of the cliff where a bronze boot commemorated the pilgrim’s journey, we had to become more than penitent, we had to become beggars, crawling out on all fours just to take a look. We had intended to leave our final offering there but were forced to double back to a sheltered ledge we’d seen near the 0 kilometer marker. There protected from the wind, we pulled out a pair of Gus’ beloved basketball shoes from our packs, each of us having carried one shoe for 215 kilometers. Through a mess of tears we scribbled our final messages to him, leaving one shoe on the ledge with his prayer card and a cross and keeping the other shoe to bring home as a reminder that we will always carry him with us. We walked back to the 0 kilometer marker and left our final rocks – one for Gus’ Wito Juan, his Nana Robyn and one for Gus. We’d just finished taking our final picture, when the heavens opened up, pelting us into seeking shelter at the souvenir kiosk. For a second we thought we could walk back, but as the sheets of rain came down much heavier than any we’d experienced, it was clear to us that our Camino had ended. God and Gus were saying it was time to stop walking and call a cab.

Final Destination encased in fog.

Bronze Pilgrim’s boot.

Gus' shoes - he will always fill up the space between us.

Gus’ shoes – he will always fill the space between us.

Leaving one shoe behind

We did it!

Final Rocks.

Our Camino – Oliveiroa to Cee – April 10, 2013

Posted on June 19, 2014 by curibe2014

To Finisterre

We went to bed early yesterday, exhausted from our journey, with wind and rain continuing to pound against our hotel’s shutters as it had pounded on us all day. We ached all over and dreaded the day to come. We awoke preparing to battle nature once again. We’d even had the line we’d use as we walked head first into a turbulent wind that kept us from advancing. “Is that all you’ve got?” we’d cry like Lt. Dan in Forest Gump. We put on all the layers of clothing we could and got on the road. We’d been walking only a few feet when we heard some calling out to us from behind. It was the Irishman Andrew and his new companion Chris. We gained new troops in our lonely battle, we ready for the next 20km.

The clouds that had been threatening us all morning, soon dissipated as though nature had never had any intention of engaging with us. The sun warming our bodies as our new friends warmed out hearts. Soon we were pealing off clothing, pausing for a brief time to have a nice lunch and marvel at the glorious landscape. We emerged from the trail to a remarkable view of the ocean. As we neared the end of the day’s journey, we realized that our legs were not cramped and our feet did not ache. They felt as fresh and light as though they had not been used and abused for the last 10 days. A miracle?

The sun is out.

The view from our lunch spot just off the road

A church along the Way.

A picture of Gus at a shrine.

The ocean is in sight!

Planning “The Way”

Posted on April 16, 2014 by curibe2014

Months before we sat across from each other picking out urns and niches, my husband and I sat next to each other convinced that we’d dodged another bullet. We’d just returned from San Francisco from a second round of radiating Gus’ entire body benignly called the “MIGB treatment”. It was not a painful procedure, just incredibly boring and uncomfortable for all of us. After receiving a high dose of radiation, Gus spent his time trapped behind a lead wall, while just outside his room, we sat on a padded chair that was provided and an office chair we stole, shoved into the corner of a small area between two patient rooms and the emergency exit. Gus’ bore his time with his usual good humor, chatting with his friends through his plastic covered i-pad and although we could get up and go at any time, we strapped ourselves into the chairs in solidarity. It might have only been ten days that we lived like this but when the time finally came to go, we pealed out of the parking lot as though we were breaking out of prison. Before we’d left, the doctor had filled our tank with hope. He’d announced that the “lights” (tumors appear on scans as lights) that once filled his body as though they were stars in the night sky had all gone out. Comforted by total darkness, we sped home towards a healthy future.

At home, we played what Gus wanted to play, watched what Gus wanted to watch and when we weren’t doing that – slept. On a rare Sunday that was not interrupted by cancer center check ups, we did what we used to do on Sundays, stayed home in our PJs and had a “lazy day”. Gus tired himself out that day trying to “prestige” on Call of Duty and went to bed early. For the first time in months my husband and I sat down to watch a movie of our choosing. We chose “The Way” with Martin Sheen and Emilio Estevez, a movie I’d picked but had not had a chance to watch. We almost turned it off immediately when in the opening scene the son, played by Emilio, dies sending his father, Martin, off to Spain to pick up his body, but we stuck with it because there was something alluring about all that walking. As a semi-practicing Catholic, I’d heard of the Marion sites like Lourdes and Fatima and seen the pilgrims arrive on their knees at the Basilica of Guadalupe in Mexico City, but I’d never heard of a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela and when the movie was over, my husband and I promised each other that when the boys were gone we’d go on this pilgrimage ourselves. I wonder sometimes if we’d not said that out loud if the future would have unfolded differently because what we didn’t know then was that Gus would leave us on different Sunday. As it was six months later, with Gus’ passing and the older boys on their own – our boys were gone…

We began flirting with the idea of doing the Camino again. It was just a thought at first that took root and seemed to be confirmed that the universe was pushing us to do it by everyone we met. We met a man who would be doing it on bike in October and another who said he had a friend who’d done it and others who were thinking about it themselves. By December of 2012 we’d decided to walk the Camino for Gus starting Easter of 2013. I should mention now that Gus was not our only loss that year. On June 14, 2012 just ten days before our Gus, his grandmother Robyn Deppe would leave us a victim of lung cancer and seven months later my grandfather would join them after a long bout with Alzheimer’s. Walking became a necessity.

If we were going to walk 135 miles in ten days from Sarria to Santiago de Compostela and then on to Finisterre we would need the right gear and lots of practice. We went to REI for backpacks, shoes and clothes. We practiced walking first up and down small hills, then on and around hiking trails and finally on two consecutive days just to get the feel for it. We took Gus’ prayer cards with us and left them everywhere we could. For Christmas that year, my brother-in-law made us little crosses with Gus’ name for us to leave on our trails and my sister gave us a pack with the words “Live for Gus” stitched in yellow. When we boarded the plane on March 28th last year bound for Spain, we wondered if we could do it. Could we actually walk thirteen miles a day over ten days? Over the next couple of weeks I will reprint the blog that was originally published just for family and friends. It is hard to believe that twelve months have passed since we walked the Camino.