I have decided to walk the Camino Frances a third time.
My first Camino was in the Spring of 2012. My second was in the Fall of 2014. Both times were spectacular and the seasons were accentuated by being outdoors all day of every day of the five weeks.
In 2012, I was walking into summer. It seemed to me that the land was coming alive as I passed: eager young buds bursting from gnarled ancient trees; hillsides first shyly then boldly resplendent with red, purple and yellow flowers; tender young shoots underfoot and each day warmer than the one before; blue skies and fat, lazy clouds overhead; the soft breeze richly laden with the promise of new loves, high adventure and brave beginnings; people emerging from winter fastness blinking in the bright sunshine, expansive and open; quickening blood flooding unused limbs.
In 2014, I was walking into winter. The land was ever more brown, grey and dying; the sullen sky overhead pregnant with freezing showers; each day colder than the one before; crushing spent foliage underfoot; people drawing their cloak close against the biting wind of the coming winter. Strangely, this blighted landscape, this blasted heath had its own appeal. A time of soft melancholy and serious reflection: of lost loves, of what might have been, of promises not kept and roads not taken. But also a time of bountiful harvests, a time of hope, the wall between heaven and earth paper thin; a time to fashion a new you, to boldly grasp the Spring six months hence.
Patience has never been one of my virtues, so leaning towards May 2017.
What is your favored season to walk the Camino?
My first Camino was in the Spring of 2012. My second was in the Fall of 2014. Both times were spectacular and the seasons were accentuated by being outdoors all day of every day of the five weeks.
In 2012, I was walking into summer. It seemed to me that the land was coming alive as I passed: eager young buds bursting from gnarled ancient trees; hillsides first shyly then boldly resplendent with red, purple and yellow flowers; tender young shoots underfoot and each day warmer than the one before; blue skies and fat, lazy clouds overhead; the soft breeze richly laden with the promise of new loves, high adventure and brave beginnings; people emerging from winter fastness blinking in the bright sunshine, expansive and open; quickening blood flooding unused limbs.
In 2014, I was walking into winter. The land was ever more brown, grey and dying; the sullen sky overhead pregnant with freezing showers; each day colder than the one before; crushing spent foliage underfoot; people drawing their cloak close against the biting wind of the coming winter. Strangely, this blighted landscape, this blasted heath had its own appeal. A time of soft melancholy and serious reflection: of lost loves, of what might have been, of promises not kept and roads not taken. But also a time of bountiful harvests, a time of hope, the wall between heaven and earth paper thin; a time to fashion a new you, to boldly grasp the Spring six months hence.
Patience has never been one of my virtues, so leaning towards May 2017.
What is your favored season to walk the Camino?
