“Then, fancies, flee away!
I’ll fear not what men say,
I’ll labor night and day
to be a pilgrim.”
April 17, 2022. The day I boarded a plane bound for Bilbao, Spain. My first overseas trip since COVID mandated a moratorium on travel, gatherings, indoor dining and showing your face. Far from making light of the past 2+ pandemic years…it’s been a vortex of upheaval and uncertainty. Which made travelling to Europe all the more gratifying. A sojourn to the continent of distinguished architecture, glorious food and drink, and favourable weather.
Vámanos!
This, friends, was a particularly special journey. My father and I embarked on a pilgrim’s route: the Camino de Santiago. Traversing portions of the Camino Frances, we marvelled at the majestic topography: vineyards, canals, olive groves, seaside ports and windswept hills. This was no hardship hike…4-6 kilometres per day of walking were bookended by visits to charming towns, tours of spectacular cathedrals and leisurely, inviting lunches. We were blessed with exceptional Spanish guides and intrepid, spirited travel companions from the UK. They enlightened, entertained and encouraged in equal measure.
But the true joy was connecting with my dad in our shared passion: exploring the world. We’re kindred spirits in many respects: intense, indefatigable, invested…occasionally intimidating (so we’re told). But our differences are noteworthy: he’s highly extroverted, while I’m a resolute introvert. His first love is classical music; my Spotify playlists are an eclectic mix of rock, new wave, pop and rap. He’s team white wine; I only sip red.
Still, we were both excited by the opportunity to trace a portion of religious pilgrimage that spoke to our shared values and struggles. Faith, perseverance, unburdening, renewal; these were central themes during our days of hiking rocky paths and narrow trails. Conversations among members of our group danced between identities back home and the novel contexts we encountered. Each of us found our cadence quite organically and silence, when it came, was comfortable in ways I’d never experienced.
True pilgrims on this route have endured inclement weather, agonizingly long days and primitive lodgings. A far cry from the coach transfers, heated showers and hearty meals with local wines that greeted us at the end of each day. So perhaps my father and I are best described as pilgrim adjacent? Pilgrimesque? So be it. Our quest was inherently personal. Relational. Profoundly spiritual…
Father and daughter travelled seamlessly together. We had a few raucous debates, per our custom (politics and parenting). We gently mocked each other’s idiosyncrasies (I despise having my photo taken; he’s obsessive about cleaning his glasses). Tea was definitely spilled (what’s revealed in España stays in España). Our bond solidified without losing its spontaneity.
Though I will never attain full pilgrim status, my aspirations remain true. To press forward, practice humility, ponder life’s big questions…and keep seeking. Dad, if you’re down, the world awaits.