Fatherly Advice

Finding computers has proved difficult.  In the blog I am not quite in Logrono, but in real life we are in Carrion De Los Condos.  I will include a record of the events between Logorono and Burgos at a later date,  During this period I was sent to Coventry, had a rant against globalisation, played with a woman from Germany, and hung out with a very charming Italian pilot.

Sitting in the square in Burgos, I look up at the the cathedral and notice a couple of storks arriving to lay down the foundations of their new home.  Each is carrying a large twig to place upon the tower.  The first stork places it on the site of the new nest.  Unfortunately the second stork drops it and it falls into the square below.  (I´m assuming it is the male as it is the sort of thing that I would do)

Rather than castigate her mate, the female gives her mate a stork kiss and is forgiven for his clumbsiness

I am waiting for Tom to arrive from Bilboa.  When he does enter the square, I shout out his name very loudly, run up to him and give him a hug.

Later when we start walking 10km to the next alburge.  I give my son some fatherly advice.

"You are a pilgrim on the road to Santiago and you are not here to follow in the footsteps of a typical British tourist"

I notice he is not wearing a cap or sunscreen

"The shade and water are your friends and a tan is not necessary"

Tom mentions that he has seen wine for less than 1 Euro in the supermarket

"Walking in the sun with a hangover is no fun"

We later have a conversation with two Austrians who have difficulty understanding the scouse version of English.

"Always try and respect your fellow travellers.  When you wake up in the morning leave the dorm quitely and try to avoid making jokes about others"

Later that evening I go to the local bar, get pissed, return to the dorm noisely, and lie on my side so my sunburnt legs don´t touch the bed

Walking with Friends

Los Arcos to Vijana

Today I walked with Birgette with people hadpassed away, who were too old to walk the Camino and those who had not yet found the time to walk.

We walked with a wonderful teacher and mentor from Montana who would send at least 15 birthday cards a week to former students.

We were joined by asick young danish woman, who would soon find the strength to walk alongside her great friend and step mother.

We welcomed a kind and thoughtful young Cambridge scholar, who had managed to find the strength to recover from her illness and continue her studies.

We said hello to a beautiful and courageous family doctor from Yorkshire, who refused to sit on the fence and always did her best both for her children and her patients

Next came a kind generous old woma,who could make the best black pudding in West Jutland and would always offer food to any vagabond who knocked on her door.

Along the way we bowed to the first Poet Laurette of Birmingham, five wonderful youmg people who were  crossing the threshhold of adulthood, an Icelandic wild horse and a dog that looked a bit like a dingo.

Two Great North American Writers

The first thing I did this morning was to ask Aoife if she was aware of the Road Less Taken by Robert Frost.  I was almost certain she would be faniliar with the poem, and if she wasn´t, I was certain she would welcome the introduction.

After Aoife had presented me with onion, she told me that she had a frustrating day, as she was unable to walk following an accident.  She told me that she wished to train to be an Astrophysicist, but also enjoyed writing.  I asked her to write a poem in the time it took me to go outside and smoke a ciggie.

And she wrote like a demon about her walk to Estrella with her grandfather Jack.  I am limitedto one hour in the internet cafe, so I´m unable to transscribe the whole poem.  i will certainly do this at some later point.

"My granfather walking a lively old bird watcher, Walking the Camino with his little grandaughter"

"together we are quite a sight, the oldest and the youngest, the loudest and the quietest, the fittest and the least prepared"

"Grandfather stopped, as always alert on an ancient bridge to admire a Griffin Vulture, while I stand bored with my arms folded"

Later, on the way into Los Arcos, I encounter the strange sight of Jack and and his son Kurt.  Jack is cycling to Santiago as his son runs alongside him.  We all stay in the same alburge.  At three in the morning, Jack goes downsstairs and sits in the kitchen.  I join him and we chat about his life in Montana and Seattle, about his relationship with his son, and his wife Karen who recently passed away.

I am inspired to write the first poem I´ve written for 40 years

A father riding alongside his son on a pushbike
Their mode of travel deternined by the length of a US vacation
They move together in tandem and harmony
On a journey that is driven by love and faith

I return to bed and two hours later I rejoin Jack, he tells me that he has for the first time expressed his feelings in his note book.

Flying Like an Eagle

Puenta de Reina to Estrella

In the middle of the night, I fell out of bed and somehow managed to karate chop the unfortunate Wolfgang across the throat.  He wasn´t happy but in the morning, he accepted my apology with good humour.

When we arrined in Lorca, I remembered that Estrella was just around the corner and only a couple of kilometres away at most

I remembered incorrectly and it was in fact 7.5 km.  This was the hardest part of the camino so far.  Not only was it further than expected we were to walk through the not so beautiful village of Villatuerta, alongside a motorway and through an industrial estate.

I felt tired and my rucksack seemed to have gained an extra 12 kg, I noticed the pains in my feet, and I no longer was able to walk in harmony alongside Birgette.  She suddenly stopped and pointed out an eagle, soaring in the sky high above us.  We watched it fly past and Birgette sang Fly like an Eagle. My pack felt lighter, the tension in my shoulders disappeared and we able to walk together in tandem.

I was later to learn from Jack an expert ornothogolist from Canada that the bird was probably a Griffin Vulture.

I was slightly frustrated, as I had been unable to find an onion with which to cook the evening meal.  But, Iwas confident that i would meet a wonderful person who would present me with a lovely fresh onion.

The first person I met in Estrella was delghtful young woman called Aoife.  I introduced myself and we chatted about walking with her grandfather, Canadian food and her trip to visit ´her people¨ in Ireland. Within a minute, she was able to present me a lovely fresh onion.  I had told Birgette that i intended to marry the person who gave me the onion, but i don´t think I would have made Aoife happy.

And later she wrote me a fabulous poem.

Storm Trooper Bikers and Cherry Trees

Pamplona to Puenta la Reina

Sitting beneath an ancient pilgrim, I thought about my morning walk out of Pamplona.  I had gone for a coffee with Marcus and  learnt that he would be unable to walk today.  I was sad, as was looking forward to spending the time with him.  I enjoyed meeting Nat and Kurian on the road.  Within an hour I learnt that far too many serial killers had originated from Wisconsin, that Madison had the most restaurants per head of population of any city in the USA and that not everyone from the Mid West didn´t own a passport.  Nat is one of the bravest pilgrims I have met, his determination to reach Santiago will enable him to overcome a number of physical problems.

Lying under that tree, the chitter chatter of song birds was brutally interupted a noisy column of masked storm trooper motorcyclists who headed off down the Camino.

Bastards

They were soon followed by a middle aged couple. I noticed that the man invited the woman to smell the plants and pointed at something up in a tree.  I´m not sure if this was a first date or if they had been undertaking this walk for years. The bikers were soon forgotten

I later climbed a hill with Birgitte, a horse loving, singing dancing woman from the forests of North Jutland.  On our descent we agreed that I would teach her Spanish and in return she would sing.  When we pased a copse of cherry trees she sang Nor Kirseertaesne Blowstrer, a Danish song about the blosooming cherry tree and it´s tales of secret treasure.  In return Birgette learnt how to count to three and the Spanish for drinkable water.

Later I found a lost paisley scarf on the way and jointly we decided that it belonged to a beautiful singing dancing, cooking, warm hearted woman from a small middle European country.  In order to express her gratitiude for finding the scarf she would invite me to her town.  When i arrived at the railway station, i was instructed to follow a trail of yellow chalk drawn arrows that would lead me to her door.

A Dickhead and a Bottler

Today was much harder than I imagined.  At the EasyJet check-in at Manchester Airport, our Tom´s pasport was regarded as invalid due to water damage.  He had to return to Liverpool to get replacement passport, as I made the flight alone to Bilboa.

We were both excited about walking beside one another, jointly producing the blog and meeting the challenges together.  We were both keen to use the time on the camino to reflect on the nature of our relationship and of finding ways of repairing the damage. I knew Tom was angry with me for not spending much time with him when he was an adolscent.  Three years ago he  posted a message on my Facebook wall stating that I was a shit father for not spending time with him: In the 30 minutes we had left before I had to get on the plane we needed to cram in many of the things we intended to say to one another on the camino.

"You are a dickhead and a bottler" was thrown at me.

I normally get angry whan I get called a dickhead.  In this case it was justified.  He did go on to say that he recognised that that was in the past and that we needed to move forwards.  i admired him for being to that, as I have a tendency to hold on to slights, insults and percieved injustices for far too long.

Tom and myself had had a disagreement on the train to the airport but we both listened to the other and were quickly and respectably able to put it behind us.

I know will make a good pilgrim. Last night in the airport he managed to keep up and contribute to a conversation with Catherine from Athens.  She loved speaking English and wanted to practice her English.  I´m generally quite accomodating when people want to this.  But the hours between 12.00 and 3.00am are not the best to explain irregular verbs or sub plot to Wuthering Heights.  Whenever i stepped outside for a ciggie Tom would maintain the conversation.

Catherine told me that she had been staying with her friend in Widnes.  I asked her if she had visited Liverpool.  She hadn´t and had spent an entire fortnight staying at her friends.  The only book, play or song that i am aware of that came out of Widnes is Homeward Bound. Paul Simon was there for less than half an hour and was inspired to write a piece that expresses his desire to get away

Tom would have loved Bilboa.  The previous evening Athletic Bilboa had defeated the mighty manchester United in the Europa League.  It was if the city was waking up after the best ever party, nearly every house was festooned in red and white stripped flags, the chatter in the bar related to the previous nights match and the woman in the Tourist Information gave me a beautiful big smile when I enquired about last night.

"It was the best party ever"

I´ve been to the big week in Bilboa and i know that they know how to party.

Tom is a Liverpool supporter, and it may not be that mature to take delight in the misfortune of others, but he would have loved to have been there.

I realised to today how much I loved my son.  And I look forward to the time when he can come out to Spain and continue our Camino

Come Fly with Me

Tomorrow I will travel to Spain.  The last time I flew to Bilboa from Manchester was the best flight I have ever been and I got stuck in Brussels Airport for more than eight hours

In 1999 I booked a Sabina flight from Manchester to Bilboa via Brussels for myself and my then six year old twins Holly and Patrick.  The flight was delayed leaving Manchester because of NATO exercises over the North Sea and as a consequence, we missed the connecting flight.

I went to the Sabina desk and they issued me with some vouchers for a restaurant back in Terminal 1 which is where we arrived.  In order to return I had to pass by some Belgian Bureaucrat who in informed that

“According EU Regulation 65783452/4F it is not possible to transfer back to a terminal that you earlier arrived at and you will have to remain in Terminal 2”. 

I then marched into one of those 1^st Class Lounges you see at airports, and in a rather manner I demanded that the Sabina representative at the desk should do something about it.  In a very calm way she suggested that I should sit down and she would sort something out for me.

I was taken to heaven, or the closest place to heaven you can get within an airport.  I was asks to sit down in room that that contained the Bang Olufsen TV set I had ever seen and suggested that the children watch CBBC, she brought in sandwiches that tasted as if they were prepared by some Michelin Star chef, and I was informed that I could help myself to anything from the bar.  I have never seen a bar like it, and I have seen quite a few bars.  It contained well over a hundred different bottles of Belgian beer and  wines that they sell at Morrissons

Later a group of bankers, who had just flown in from New York asked me if I would mind changing the channel from Jackonory to Bloomberg.  Suddenly, the Sabina Lady appears and informs the group of bankers that the children have had a long day are happy watching the TV.  This was better than Storming of the Winter Palace and the Paris Commune and was all being conducted by a representative of the Belgian National Airline and Leon, Che or Fidel.

At this point I wanted to marry this woman and would have been prepared to move to Ostend in order to spend the rest of life with her.  I wouldn’t have that surprised if she had agreed.

I vowed that if possible I would always fly with Sabina.  Sadly they went out of business two years later.