Inklings

I knew before I ever started up the trail on that first morning 

that things might not go exactly as I'd planned. 

I knew that the minute I realized my 'Bible' was missing.

No, not the Hebrew Scripture/New Testament version - 

really, do you have ANY idea how much that sucker weighs; 

I wasn't about to cart that around in my backpack- 

I mean the English speaking Pilgrims Guide to the Camino written by John Brierley -

complete with maps, mileage, elevation tables 

and information about albergues, tiendas (stores), descriptions of terrain etc - 

knowledge without which, apparently, the 'modern' pilgrim simply cannot exist.

I met two couples in my area who walked the Camino last year - 

Mike and Kathy and Scott and Peggy.

Both couples had been generous with their time, knowledge, support and encouragement.

We had gone through the Brierley 

and I'd dutifully marked their thoughts about 'must sees', 

places to stay, places to avoid 

and other helpful hints.

My Brierley was chock-a-block full of ideas 

that would make MY Camino extraordinary.

(I didn't know it then, but seeing groups of pilgrims pour over this volume every night, 

consulting the text and each other and basing their next days walk 

on the information contained therein 

would soon become a staple of the nighttime routine on Camino. 

Never mind that as time went on, 

contentious debates about the accuracy of his information 

and the validity of his descriptions would also become de rigeur - 

along with the applied epithet of "Brierley the Liarly" - 

all accompanied by the legend that he was ON the Camino at this very moment, 

updating information- 

and many swore they had met people who had met HIM! 

Urban legend is alive and well in Northern Spain!)

Anyway - 

pilgrims had been comparing guidebooks
in the common area of the albergue before dinner 

and I left mine on the bench when we went in to eat.

It wasn't until I was organizing my backpack later that night 

that I realized I'd forgotten it.

Yet when I returned to the main room, 

it was gone.

Since it had MY name inside the front cover and my hand writing throughout, 

I assumed it would be easy to identify. 

If some other pilgrim had picked it up by mistake, 

they'd realize the mistake and hand it over.

(I didn't know at the time that the guidebooks are not readily available overseas 

and are thus a hot, blackmarket commodity).

Sadly, a quick check with every pilgrim,
in every room,
yielded nothing.

Feeling pissed off,
I returned to my room to have a conversation with God,
telling Him that if this journey was to remind me that people were basically good,
he needed to step up His game;
it wasn't working very well, so far!

The return message
from the Universe/God/unconsciously from myself
couldn't have been clearer - - 

this wasn't to be Scott/Peggy's Camino 

nor was it Mike/Kathy's...

this was mine - 

and I wasn't to rely on the words of someone else.

I had been called (for whatever bizarre reason) to walk this path.

All I needed to do was show up and walk - 

and trust that 'The Way' would be shown to me.

So, when morning came, I set off... 

trusting in yellow arrows

and God to guide me.

OK, so I was also following the backpacks of those pilgrims who walked faster - 

which was just about everyone.

The important thing was I was doing this - 

I was on my own and on my way!