Hyper-listening

Since I returned from my last trip on the Camino in September I have been musing about it’s role and significance in my life. This has had an increased importance as I prepare physically, psychologically and spiritually for the next section in March. What am I walking the Camino for? What am I getting out of it? What value does it have for me?

As a committed Bible-believing Christian it is certainly not for the traditional Catholic reasons; I know that I cannot earn points with God or have a portion of my sins wiped out by going on pilgrimage. Jesus makes it abundantly clear in the gospels that the “scandal” of the gospel is that all we have to do is surrender our lives to him and believe in faith that through his death and resurrection all the wrong things we have done in our life are forgiven and they will be – I know that peace and assurance in my own life and I know nothing I can do additional to what happened on the Cross will ever impress God. No, I just have to accept Jesus’ death as being everything I need to have right standing with God. So, given that, what value does walking the Camino have?

I think I got an answer recently as I watched a BBC TV programme called “Secrets of the Castle”. Three archaeologists Ruth Goodman, Peter Ginn and Tom Pinfold spent six months working at the largest archaeology experiment in the world; in the forests of Burgundy in France, archaeologists are painstakingly building a medieval castle, Chateau de Guedelon using 13^th Century techniques. The whole project will take about 25 years and the castle is half way through it’s construction!

I am always on the lookout for any references to the Camino on TV and in the final episode Ruth Goodman visited the Benedictine Basilica of Sainte-Marie-Madeleine in Vezelay in Northern Burgundy. The Cathedral was the starting point of the Chemin de Vezelay which ran 900km to join the Chemin de Paris and the Chemin de Puy at St Jean Pied De Port. Medieval pilgrims coming from Maastricht, Aachen, Namur and Auxerre all passed through the city.

Ruth Goodman examined the extraordinary Romanesque sculpture on the Tympanum and lintel above the main portal of the church with another historian, who pointed out the bizzarre figures in the far right corner of the lintel; they have enormous elephant – like ears! Although there is some debate concerning their meaning it is generally thought that the large ears refer to the opening lines of the 6^th Century Rule of St Benedict of Nursia which says

“Listen, my son, to the master’s instructions, and attend to them with the ear of your heart”

The bible also says the same thing – for example in Proverbs 23:12, where it says:

“Apply your heart to instruction and your ears to words of knowledge”.

It is not enough to hear with our physical ears, we also need to listen spiritually to God with our hearts. For example, sometimes my wife says something to me while I am also watching TV or busy on the computer and I hear her, but I am not actually listening and couldn't tell you a word she said! So often in the busy-ness of our personal prayer times, where we bring our lists of things to God, or in the midst of our hectic busy church meetings, we claim to hear God speak, but aren't really listening.

In the New Testament, the original Greek uses a word to express this idea – Hupakouo which means to hyper-listen like a porter at a door, but it also carries with it the meaning of not just hearing a command but being responsive and being obedient to it. The porter had to not just hear his master when he knocked at the door but also open it to let him in. So, Jesus says in Revelation 3:20:

“I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me”

The main difference between Christian meditation and the Eastern forms so popular in Western Society nowadays is that apart from the fact that Christians fill their minds with God’s word, whereas in eastern mysticism the mind is emptied, the main aim of Christian Meditation is not for unity with an amoral cosmic consciousness, but so that we can hear God, (who loves us and longs to have relationship and intimacy with us) more clearly and then respond and obey what he says to us.

That for me personally, is the real purpose of the Camino; modern life is full of noise and it can be hard not only to hear God but listen to what he says. Taking time out of normal life to walk and experience solitude allows me to hyper-listen and hopefully let Jesus deeper and deeper into my heart.

Camino Day 1: St Jean - Roncesvalles (09/09/14)

I awoke many times during the night, not only due to the earth-shaking turns of the bunk inhabitant above me, but also due to the excitement of being eager to set off on our walk and nervousness as to how I would find the walk over the Pyrenees. Day 1 was to involve a 25.1km (15.6 mile) hike over the mountains, but when adjusted for an accrued ascent of 1,390m, it would be the equivalent of walking 32km.

A last look at St. Jean in the morning mist

By way of explanation I should explain that when walking the Camino it is normal to get up early around 6- 6:30am (some eager souls get up much earlier!) and set off about 7:00am. This allows you to complete a 6-7 hour walk and still be done by early afternoon, thus avoiding the worst of the mid-afternoon heat. Since the day's walk was going to about the longest of our trip, I was therefore up at 6.00, had a quick wash and then made my way down to the dining room where a basic breakfast was available of cold coffee or chocolate (which could be heated in a microwave) and slices of a French stick with butter and very runny jam, which I got everywhere. I got into conversation with two Irish guys in their early thirties, Brendan and his friend who were from Co. Wicklow. There was an air in the room of "well this is it!" quiet resolution. After Ben and Matt finally appeared for breakfast we gathered below the stairs and I was able to show the Barcelona woman that contrary to dire predictions, a second glass of red wine had not killed me!


We left the Albergue at 7.15; it was barely light and the River Nive was wreathed in an atmospheric mist. We could have turned left and up the street through the Porte D'Espagna, but I wanted to take the circular 1km detour route along the river, so we turned right in front of the Porte Notre Dame and made our way over the Roman Pont Eyerabarri bridge and round the outside of the city walls before rejoining the main route. The route then splits - right to the lower Valcarlos route, which has a lower accrued ascent of 990m and left to the route we were taking, uphill to the Route de Napoleon et du Marischal Harispe. This route has very ancient origins and goes back as far as Roman times when it was part of the Via Triana and linked Bordeaux with Astorga. Napoleon also used it to invade Spain - hence it's modern name.

Ben & I walking the Route de Napoleon

The climb to Orisson involved ascending about 900m in 8km and I found the climb quickly became punishing. Matt and Ben seemed to find it even harder and I found myself walking alone after an initial period of starting out together. The tough climb was compensated with stunning views; we had by now climbed above the morning mist and above the cloud the day was sunny and we looked down on a sea of mist interspersed with hilltop "islands" peeking up above the cloud. We were also reminded by signs in English that whether we were in the modern states of France or Spain, we were in fact in the Basque Country.

Ben felt sufficiently patriotic to produce an Albanian flag and tied it to the outside of his rucksack in celebration!

I arrived at the Albergue / restaurant at Orisson with some relief, as I needed a rest, a good 20 minutes ahead of Ben and Matt and found Brendan and his mate downing beer on a outside area of decking with tables and chairs. I was able to refill my water bladder as I had already drank about 1.5 litres of water and tried a glass of glorious cloudy Basque cider - fruity apple-ly heaven and then followed this with coffee and a slice of Basque Cake and the essential sello in the Credencial.

We journeyed on continuing our ascent through wide and expansive scenery that greatly impressed me; I was already falling in love with the Camino! We fell into conversation with some Canadian women. Ben taught some of them to call me djall i keq (bad boy) in Albanian and I had a discussion with another about the forthcoming Scottish independence referendum and I was surprised when she said that she already thought Scotland was a separate country and not part of the United Kingdom! Leaving them when they stopped for lunch, we saw numerous Griffon Vultures and other raptors soaring on thermals at Pic D'Orisson (1,100m). With a wingspan of 2.5m the vultures were very impressive and according to John Brierley there are 1,800 pairs in the region - the greatest concentration in the world.



 At Thibault below Pic de Leizar, we found a mobile trailer selling coffee and food and providing the last sello in France (essential!!), so we stopped for lunch and reclining on the grass in a surprisingly hot sun for such an elevation, we ate our packed lunch and looked across the valley at Basque farmsteads. Near the trailer was a modern cross where other pilgrims had scratched the names of people they were praying for on stones and thrown them at the foot of the cross.

Thibault

Ben & Horses at Thibault

It was after Thibault that Ben began to need prayer and develop a pained look on his face! Several hours of walking in the infamous luminous orange and blue trainers were starting to catch up with him as the elasticated fastenings did not restrain his feet from sliding forward inside the shoes, which meant that his toes were repeatedly being rammed forward and his toenails bashed on the uppers. Slowly the exclamations and wails from Ben began to increase with every step "Ooooff! Aarrgggh! Ooooh dear! This is the worst thing I have ever done!" Etc! The Albanian flag disappeared!

Fountain of Roland - note Trainers of Doom!



We reached the Fountain of Roland (more on Roland in a while) and soon crossed the Spanish border were laminated signs in English informed us that the Government of the Province of Navarre was refusing to allow children's TV programmes in the Basque language. Ben hobbled along with us (vocally) to the summit at Col de Lepoeder (1,450) and looked ready to punch a German walking in the opposite direction who cheerfully asserted "not very far!"

Spanish Border: France left, Spain / Navarre right, Basque Country both sides!

After the summit the path plunges steeply downhill through the beech woods of bosque de Irati considered to be one of the largest surviving native beech forests in Europe. We left Ben to limp downhill behind us and Matt and I went on through the forest, the floor almost a rich purple with beech leaves and speckled with wonderful Autumn crocuses illuminated in the sunshine. The descent was very punishing on my knees and as I walked, I mused that walking the Camino teaches you things and I realised that my first lesson was that during the day's hard ascents, I had "withdrawn" into myself to conserve energy and that yet the descents were just as hard, if not more so - surely a metaphor for life; that coming down from some life event can be as hard as climbing up to it in the first place as I had been discovering from the recent death of my Dad.

bosque de Irati

Autumn crocus

And so were reached Roncesvalles after 8 hours and 10 minutes and Ben came in a creditable 20 minutes behind us. Checking into the Albergue run by the Collegiate Church, we were met by a friendly Hospitalero who instructed us where to leave our boots and packs. I particularly liked his description of the room where the boots were kept as The Aroma Room! This Albergue was in a large 17th Century(?) building which although traditional outside, had three floors with rows of modern cubicles with four bunks in each cubicle (we shared ours with a Hungarian guy) made from light wood which gave an Ikea feel.

Roncesvalles



After a welcome shower, I hand-washed my clothes in the Albergue laundry and then took the chance to explore Roncesvalles which is a settlement made up mainly of ecclesiastical buildings; The Royal Collegiate Church of Saint Mary (consecrated in 1219), the13th Century Chapel of St James and the 12th Century Chapel of the Holy Spirit, along with a hotel and a bar.

Albergue on right

Roncesvalles is famous for the semi-legendary battle of Roncesvalles. At one stage Charlemagne and his nephew Roland, invaded Spain to attack the Moors but on their way home Charlemagne damaged the walls of Pamplona, even though he had promised not to. As Charlemagne was retreating back to France, an assorted Basque and Aragonese army suddenly attacked the rear of Charlemagne's forces in revenge and Roland was killed despite sounding his horn Oliphant. This story became incredibly famous in Medieval times through the epic song the Chanson de Roland and the story collected magical myths and legends around it.

L-R Chapel of St James & Chapel of The Holy Spirit



I enjoyed visiting the Collegiate Church and sitting awhile in the atmospheric crypt, but I had meant the visit the tomb of the king of Navarre Sancho VII The Strong but I misunderstood where it was located and by the time I realised, it was closed, so I had a beer with some South Africans and a Canadian from Ottawa instead.


Interior of the Collegiate Church

In the evening we had a "Pilgrim Meal" in the local hotel and were joined by another Canadian lady. I had heard about these meals and expected them to be basic, but it turned out to be a three course affair with salad, soup or pasta as a starter, trout or duck as the main with a glass of red wine and cheesecake for dessert; all for €9.00!! You wouldn't get that value in Cork!

I finished the evening by observing the Pilgrim Mass in the Collegiate Church and there was an atmospheric pilgrim blessing when the pilgrims came forward to the altar and the lights were dimmed.

Pilgrim Blessing

The comfortable beds in the Albergue promised a good night's sleep without earthquakes!

Dublin - St Jean Pied De Port (08/09/14)

Thankfully Genghis Khan ceased his activities and I was able to eat breakfast at the hotel satisfactorily! I had taken the minimum of equipment to keep the weight in my rucksack down, which was going into the aeroplane hold because I was worried about my walking stick not being allowed on as hand luggage. (As it turned out Ryanair allowed pilgrims to take on their walking sticks as hand luggage at Dublin as long as they were not ski-type sticks with sharp ice points, but we found on the way back that Ryanair would not allow sticks as hand luggage to Stansted and I had to bring Ben's stick back with me). I changed into my walking gear and boots and left my normal clothes behind in my car parked at the hotel.

Upon checking in at the airport for the flight to Biarritz, I found the pilgrims walking the Camino easily distinguishable by their walking gear, rucksacks and walking poles and had several conversations including one with two retired gentlemen in their 60's who had already walked the Camino Frances and were now starting the Camino del Norte. I bought an Irish Times to pass the time on the flight and although it cost €2 and I gave a €20 note, the shop assistant tried to give me only €13 change and wasn't happy when I pointed her mistake out and slapped the rest on the counter without apologising!

The flight to Biarritz passed uneventfully and I was surprised at the heat when I stepped onto the tarmac off the aeroplane. What also surprised me was how small Biarritz airport is and how it is the only airport that I have been to where the luggage carousels are in the public area by the main entrance! Waiting cheerfully were Ben and Matt who had arrived earlier from Stansted and who had already been to Biarritz seafront on the bus. Ben shoved a baguette sandwich in my hands which was very welcome!

Matt was dressed like myself in walking gear but I was surprised to see Ben wearing spanking new luminescent blue and orange trainers (his girlfriend had bought them) which he had only worn briefly before the trip, with elasticated toggle fastening instead of proper laces. When I said "you are not wearing those in the Pyrenees are you??" he replied "They will be fine brother". More about this later!


Originally we had planned to get the bus to Bayonne and then the mountain railway to St Jean, but Ryanair (blessings be upon them) had changed my flight times to later in the day and we therefore could not have made the connection with the last train to St Jean at 6pm. I had therefore booked a taxi minibus service with www.expressbourricot.com This turned out to be an excellent idea; for €24 each the minibus arrived punctually and we and a few other pilgrims were driven up to St Jean in 90 mins.




Arriving in St Jean

I was so excited to be in St Jean at the start of my Camino adventure after months of pouring over a map of the town. Finally the Camino was a reality! We made straight for the Pilgrim Office where we had our credencials stamped and completed pilgrim registration forms.


Houses on the River Nive

Matt & Ben in front of Porte Notre-Dame

Once registered, we turned our minds to getting beds in an Albergue. Usually when I go on a trip abroad, I like to have all accommodation booked well in advance, but this time I didn't feel that would be right for a pilgrimage and decided very much against my nature (!!), that I should relax and "go with the flow" and just turn up in a town at the end of each day trusting that we would find beds. So, leaving the Pilgrim Office we walked down the rue de la Citadelle and immediately found Le Chemin Vers L'Etiole private albergue which had a sign which said it had free space.

The Albergue had a loud and garrulous, but friendly owner Eric who booked us in along with a Brazilian called Eduard. Eric offered us a communal supper at 8pm which we booked, although we later found it was about double the price of other meals we had on the Camino. The Albergue was architecturally very interesting; dating from the 1500's it was a large traditional Basque house which had a timber square cantilevered staircase that ran up through the building, apparently based on Arabic architecture. Originally the staircase would have been around an open courtyard but a roof had since been added. Each room had about 20 bunks and I chose one by the old fireplace and with views out the window along the rue de la Citadelle.

Eric Stamping our Credencials

Albergue staircase

View from Bedroom window towards Porte Notre-Dame

We had about an hour and a half until supper and took the opportunity to explore the town. At an altitude of 170m, St Jean has been the ancient capital of the Basque region of Basse-Navarre since the 9th Century. I was very impressed with this medieval walled town with it's 15th Century Porte Notre Dame gate and narrow cobbled streets with ancient houses still inhabited with families and with door lintels bearing Basque symbols such as the cross shaped Lauburu - the Four Faces - an ancient symbol of prosperity.

The three of us wandered into the beautiful 14th Century church of Notre Dame du Bont du Pont (our Lady at the end of the bridge) and sat awhile and prayed together for our trip. Then we walked uphill and visited the grandiloquent Louis XIV Citadelle which spoke clearly of past conflicts with Spain in this border region. The view towards the Pyrenees where we were walking the next day was impressive. We also walked through the 15th Century Porte St Jacques which has UNESCO World Heritage status and was the gate through which pilgrims entered the town from Le Puy, Vezelay and Paris.

Entrance to Eglise Notre-Dame

Inside Eglise Notre-Dame

Matt & Ben at the Citadelle

Porte St. Jacques

Returning to the Albergue we nipped in a shop and bought some stuff for a packed lunch the next day and then enjoyed the communal meal with a variety of pilgrims including a couple from Zimbabwe, a German lady (who had already walked 400km in France and had a sore foot which she asked me to look at!) a French lady who was worried about whether she could walk over the Pyrenees and a young woman from Barcelona who was shocked when I had a second glass of red wine and claimed I wouldn't be able to walk the next day!

By 9:30 we were in bed, though I wondered how much sleep I as likely to have, despite my ear plugs; the man in the bunk above me kept turning violently every 20 mins or so causing tremors in my bed of about 8.5 on the Richter Scale!