... and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall. - Colette
Today I interviewed not a former pilgrim but an expectant pilgrim, an American guy named Nate who’d come to Toulouse to faire the Chemin d’Arles, and had come now because he wanted to make the pilgrimage in the winter. I met him for breakfast; two days here and he’d somehow found what must be the only place in Toulouse that serves something that approximates pancakes. Alright, they’re crepes, but at least he didn’t eat them with Nutella. (Although, sadly, no real coffee. I had three “cafes,” which means espresso that gets cold unless you swallow the whole thing in one shot.) When I spoke to him on the phone, I formed certain expectations from his gravelly Robert-Redford-in-Out-of-Africa voice. He didn’t disappoint – I walked into the café to find a ginger-bearded giant in a flannel shirt. I kept looking for Babe the Blue Ox, or for him to call out for rashers of bacon.
He’s already made several ‘pilgrimages’, if you will. He’s done the Appalachian Trail twice, as a thruhiker, which means that he started in Georgia and ended up, six months plus tard, in Maine. And last summer he went to Peru (which, incidentally, seems to be the place to go these days; I’ve met so many people who have recently visited there. Trendwatchers, take note.) to hike the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu.
It’s interesting for me to note the differences between the French pilgrims I interview and those of other nationalities. Without exception, all of the French with whom I have spoken have focused on the communal aspects of the pilgrimage, and Nate came to France with the exact opposite interest. He was enjoying the food here in Toulouse, although I had to agree with him that once you’ve seen a hundred old churches, they begin to lose some of their romance. (Actually, for me, it was all over once I had seen Notre Dame in Paris.) When we spoke, he had already visisted St Sernin and discovered the Rue du Taur, which is named the Street of the Bull because St Sernin, the first bishop of Toulouse, was martyred by being dragged along this street behind a bull. Just a cultural note.
Nate decided to begin the Camino de Santiago in France so that he could cross the Pyrenees, and he chose the Chemin d’Arles rather than the far more popular Chemin du Puy because he wanted a more authentic pilgrim experience. ‘I didn’t come to make a lot of friends,’ he told me, ‘I could do that in Colorado.’ He said that he wanted both the challenge and the solitude of a winter pilgrimage. Nate’s description of his desires for his pilgrimage was, interestingly, quite similar to Janine’s description of “religious pilgrims”: he wanted the chance to meditate and reflect on and absorb his surroundings and his experience without the distraction of many other hikers, although he would not have called that prayer.
He said he was surprised by the number of people he had talked to who made the same two observations: 'You will earn a lot of merit by doing the Camino in winter' and 'you ought to do it in summer, it's better'. Ensuing conversation revealed that 'merit' resulted from increasing the hardship of what was seen to be an already very arduous undertaking by doing it in cold and possibly inclement weather. 'Better', on the other hand, was usually equated with 'warmer', though it could also mean that there would be more pilgrims on the Chemin. (The idea that he might in fact enjoy the silence all around him was apparently difficult to imagine.) Suitably clad and equipped, however, and taking certain sensible precautions, the only major drawback to a winter journey, according to Nate, is that the days are far too short.
With a drastically reduced amount of daylight you need to be considerably more organized than you might be in summer, not only with respect to places of interest, but also so as not to be caught in the dark with nowhere to sleep. Especially in winter, and especially on the Chemin d’Arles, it is necessary to be certain that you will arrive at the place where you will sleep before night. Gites in France offer low-cost lodging to hikers on the GR65. They are owned by individuals, churches, or municipalities, and the quality of the facilities varies widely. Many have cooking facilities, and all have showers (although not necessarily hot water) and toilets. Whereas in Spain it is necessary to show the pilgrim’s passport in order to obtain lodging at an albergue or refugio, anyone is free to use the French gites. However, the gites do not appear as frequently on the trail as the refugios, and because they are open to all, they can be more crowded.
As far as attitudes towards solitude go, it’s also worth noting that the people who come from other countries to make the pilgrimage in France are usually choosing to hike for days or weeks in a country whose language they do not speak. Nate is a good example of this; although he speaks a certain amount of Spanish, he speaks almost no French, and has been surprised by how few people here speak English. However, a willingness to undertake this sort of journey even knowing that your opportunities not only for conversation but also for basic aid will of necessity be limited by your inability to communicate indicates a certain personal bent, and one that is perhaps less intimidated by solitude.
I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. - Henry David Thoreau
No comments:
Post a Comment