Love Tales from the Camino

Two days in one place is a long time in Camino time…We’re in Portomarin today resting and filming. The view of the river is home for a 24 hr stretch. If I see someone more than once, I feel a bond. I ran into Enrico 4 times and he was practically family. He’s in Santiago now after a terrible finger injury and a trip to the hospital. Go Enrico! He made it! We have to wait for the translation from Italian to find out what he shared with us about love.

Timothy and my bike are the only constants. Our panniers grew to “home” status in our hearts sometime last week. A Scottish/Australian woman said she feels her husband loving her every day she is away from home, like he’s walking right beside her. Wow. She also highlighted her German friend who was working through the pain of wounded feet. Her whole face lit up like fireworks every time she got a call from her husband. Both had been married for decades. They were still completely in love.

I had a rough morning the other day. Just couldn’t take the ground moving under my feet every second. My nesting self wanted home, stillness, a lasting love, a couch, a beach day. My friends. Even the pieces that are missing felt bigger and heavier. Heavier than all the film equipment on my bike as I push myself to grind against the uphill. Just when I felt like I didn’t have it in me anymore, a Frenchman helped me with my bike on a crazy rocky incline and I reached the top. There, we ran into a group of Spanish firemen from Andalucia who we’d interviewed on Cruz de Ferro. I LOVE downhills and we all got to ride the trail together. They even had me lead the pack through an awesome stretch of speed and rocks. By the time I reached the bottom, my heart was light and my body ready for more.

The next day Timothy and I found a mountaintop hamlet with a hammock and birds singing over the hills and pilgrims washing clothes in the syrupy sunlight. Everyone was at peace. Thank you, Marcadoiro. You were home for a couple of luxurious hours before a scenic ride down to the river basin.

After donkeys, stretching, blisters, bonding and bucolic pastures, we are only a couple days from Santiago. Then Finisterre and Timothy flies home while I go to Portugal. Bring on the love folks! We’re ready to hear what you have to share.

I can’t quite remember where I left off, but so many beautiful people and places have crossed my path since I last wrote. My hydraulic disc brakes failed after a long ride and a shop in León saved the day. I also celebrated a birthday in Molinaseca and Villafranca del Bierzo and filmed at the top of Cruzo de Ferro. Tonight we enjoy Cebreiro, an ancient Celtic enclave at the top of the mountain. Ever closer to Santiago…

I can’t quite believe we are in Galicia already. Days are filled with both exhaustion and joy as we bike and interview and encounter our own interiors. The lust for silence is great. Contentment is growing. The wild cats prowl these ancient stones tonight fighting and loving in the late night quiet. All the pilgrims sleep as I write. I am with them. Can’t decide if I need a sexy dance party or a 12 hour nap. The quiet is enough.

So, the biggest news is that I made it over Col Leopoder on the Napoleon Route from St. Jean. Even after my fall down the stairs and insane wind! It was an epic journey. I met a wonderful person, Sandy from Canada, who sat next to me at dinner (1/3 of the way up in Orisson). I thought to myself, “I definitely want to interview her tomorrow after we make it over the mountain. She is wise.” Well, the wind was so extremely INTENSE, it picked Sandy off the ground and she was airborne heading straight off the mountain. She aimed herself at another pilgrim and fell to the ground when she hit him, breaking her collar bone. I really mean it when I say intense wind! She had to end her Camino there (although I think the 35 days she has off will bring her a unique journey all her own). I interviewed her the next day and was so touched by the way she processed the event.

I also met another incredible woman, who I’ve run into 3 times now! Isabelle was about to do the Camino with her husband, when he was suddenly diagnosed with cancer. 2 years after his death, she is walking the Camino with him in spirit. She spoke of love as caring for the rose in the story of Little Prince, the beauty and the thorns. The funny coincidence is that someone shared that very same story with me the week before I left. And then I shared it with someone else the day of my departure. To have the first person I interviewed about love reflect on the Little Prince and the rose and the fox was a delightful synchronicity. How fortunate I am to have met her.

Mostly I am alone during my midday rides. I arrive in the evening to a new town and meet new friends at the restaurants for dinner. The downhill to Zubiri was the most memorable and crazy technical mountain biking I can imagine. I can’t believe I actually made it down the miles of steep, wet, rocky, muddy terrain at that speed! What a thrill! And then we had an incredibly lively discussion about love at dinner that night with a group of wonderfully insightful new friends.

After days of climbs and descents, I am growing tired and a bit homesick. I am eager for Timothy to arrive and ride with me. My neighbor and friend, Larry, will also join us as support, which will be most welcome! The film equipment is heavy and I can’t wait to share the load!!

All messages and comments greatly appreciated! I love hearing from you!

Brook

Five things: 1). It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring…2) I already fell down basement stairs yesterday so hopefully the “bumped” part of the rhyme is checked off and over, 3) my imperfect teeth fit in better in Europe, 4) “Brook, you are welcome in Basque country any time”…I’ve grown fond of it so quickly. 5) Off to see if it’s even possible to get a laden bike up the mountain in this rain. “She’s a very particular mountain,” they say. “You can always try and then just come back down if it doesn’t work.”

Biarritz, France. I had hardly landed when a group of touring cyclists needed a more burly pedal tool. In a dress and ballet flats, they didn’t suspect it would be me coming to the rescue! But a girl’s gotta have her tools and Marc – local owner of Centraal Cycle in Beverly, MA – made sure I was equipped with the very best. Happens I needed 1€ for the bus, so it was a happy exchange. I even got some footage of them and they were kind enough to sign my iPhone-based Talent Release forms.

The cyclists thought I was crazy when they heard I’d be taking the Napoleon Route. “Almost killed a friend of ours,” they recounted. “We’ve heard folks from Boston are crazy.” And adding, “But I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Ha! That’s the 3rd “people die on that mountain” warning I’ve received this week, not to mention the movie that starts out with a young man falling off it in the fog.

I’m in Basque country, back to my roots (I’m 1/8 Basque and my family was from this French Basque region). Perhaps my ancestors will protect me alongside the luck of a St. Christopher pendant a dear friend gave me before I left. He’s supposed to protect travelers.

In any case, I’m glad I decided to ease into the mountain with a night here. This place is calming my nerves. It soothes me. “Stay open” is the decree my heart delivers to me over and over, through it all. Thank you, Biarritz for a lovely send off.