Becoming a Camino Family
Becoming a Camino Family
On my first Camino starting in Le-Puy-en-Velay, France, in 2010, I became a 64-year-old “Camino mom” to two 26-year-olds. We often walked separately but stayed in the same places and cooked dinner together. They did most of the cooking because I felt more tired than they did at the end of the day. They also walked faster than I did.
Why did they stick with me? We were from different countries. Lisa was from Germany, and Steven was from Belgium. I had the MiamMiam Dodo guide, and they had phones. We’d share the book, and they would call ahead to reserve rooms. Their French was better than mine. We looked after each other. I protected the lovely Lisa from predatory men. She’d encountered a few. One day, when I thought I might lie down beside the road and die in the rain, Steven told me they’d have come looking for me if I hadn’t shown up. We learned a lot about each other. I didn’t know the expression then, but we’d become a Camino family.
I knew we’d eventually part ways, but when that day arrived, parting seemed sudden and unexpected.
Steven sang and played his guitar on a perfect evening at Orisson in the Pyrenees. There was no hint of the disaster that would strike the next day when we had to turn back after the rain turned to heavy snow. Shivering and close to hypothermia, I chose to take a taxi to Roncesvalles. There was no time to think, no time to cry. Quick hugs and we parted in a confusion of pilgrims jammed into the small space of the gîte to which we’d returned.
Three days later, in Pamplona, I found a note from Lisa on my bed.
“Meet us in Plaza del Castillo at 7.” Alas. It was already 8 o’clock! I looked around the plaza. The restaurants were expensive-looking and filled with people drinking rather than eating. They would not be here. I exited onto a small street lined with modest bars and restaurants. Through a doorway, I spied a bandaged foot under a table in a back room. I recognized that foot! It was Steven’s.
A joyful reunion! A miracle of the Camino! The following day, I shed tears as they walked away. They continued on to Santiago, and I returned home for the summer.
Fifteen years later, we still write to each other.
