July 20, 2018

Thank goodness I’m not boarding a plane right now for the physical start of 500 miles over 33 days of walking the famed Camino de Santiago. There’s still so much to do – get in shape, tie up loose ends to do with work and home, decide on gear and test such. The list goes on, even though I have yet to actually write that to-do list. But come midnight, the T-1 month countdown really starts.

This adventure has been on my mind since I followed on Facebook a friend’s camino last summer. A Camino de Santiago adventure, at best low on my bucket list, began to climb. Time’s running out is more likely an excuse than a reality, but it got my attention. Approaching my 70th birthday, I began to question how many landmark birthdays I might have. So far I’ve been pretty casual about the decade markers of 30-40-50-60- 63 got my attention when I passed my dad – but now 70! I’ve lived a longer life than any recent males on my father’s side. He died young, several of his brothers died even younger. I’m not so foolish as to regard myself as some kind of trailblazer. I’m happy to blaze that trail with my three younger siblings. We know life is precious, having lost a brother when he was in his 30s, and both parents gone some time ago. But does this make 70 that damned important?

Too many questions, mostly of no consequence, but the marker of 70 years has now taken on some importance. How to mark the passage in a way that’s out of the ordinary? Camino de Santiago began a climb near the top of the proverbial bucket list. I looked at projected costs. It seemed the proper thing to do, and in doing so I derailed the plan before it ever grew legs. A fare popped up in one night of browsing that startled me. It was something I felt my budget would bear. I tagged it, thinking I would take a day to confirm my sister could house and dog sit for me while I would be away. How long would this take? Could I get leave from my work at the radio station? Six weeks? No way! It all bogged down and then collapsed 12 hours later when I checked again the airfare. It had more than doubled – perhaps had never been more than illusion, or bait and switch.

The seed, deep in the back of my mind, needed encouragement to germinate. Every day or so, even after pretty much dismissing Camino de Santiago as a Don Quixotic dream, I would sneak a look at travel costs. They only climbed. But then one night, as I tried other itineraries, rather like trying a ring of keys, hoping to eventually open a lock, I found something affordable, that fit whatever my budget might be. I tried more keys and eventually found a now or never window of opportunity. I confirmed house sitter, dog sitter, bank balances. But could I get permission to fulfill my obligations to Texas Public Radio in absentia such that a six week absence wouldn’t waylay my plan. I sweated over it for half a day before I got the nudge to go ahead. But what about . . . ?

Another day, another look at an itinerary and a somewhat complicated mix of different airports, three different airlines, and I was a bundle of nerves. Bang! I pulled the trigger or, less dramatically, began the maze of mouse clicks to lock things in place. With the final clicks of each negotiation I could almost hear the air rushing into the space where once the dollars had been in my bank. Ready or not, the adventure has been loosed.