My Mini-Camino - Unexpected Simplicity, Accidental Pilgrimage

Working to a standstill and chasing an elusive, bubble of success has a price to pay on ones outlook on life. The sparkly stardust of dreams soon settles to grey drudgery of reality as one ploughs through the deep ruts of life. Something had to give or change before the wheels fell off.  

I recently received my test results back! I waited the whole day until I could find a private and quiet moment to open the envelope that I’d eagerly anticipated for three months. An odd Christmas present one might say, but nevertheless I was nervous with apprehension and excitement at the eventual delivery of the post. I took a few gulps of breadth and tried to slow my breathing. Once the envelope was open, there was no going back. Living obliviously comes with a certain amount of freedom in not knowing, here I was digging to find out where my DNA entrenched in my veins came from. The questions dangled like Damocles sword. It wasn’t enough to accept I was born in Scotland, I wanted to know the marrow of me. “You look Asian, you look Chinese,” were the fleeting throwaway comments cast in my direction. Enough, I declared, and now as I held the paper in my trembling hands I knew irrefutably where I belonged. The obvious result was the United Kingdom circling Scotland and Ireland. The revelation was that my hot blooded Iberian roots were revealed to quench my curiosity and to silence the feckless few who cared to comment.

My husband and I packed our bags, we were going to visit Spain on the 7 October 2017. I was drawn by an invisible, yet decisively tugging thread back to parts of my roots. We based ourselves in an apartment in San Sebastian which we booked online through Feel Free Homes. San Sebastián is also known as the foodie capital of the area. We dined on adventurous pintxos and Rioja wine as we found our bearings around the Old Town. “Lets do a hike,” I suggested. I had tossed up the idea of doing the Camino with a friend years before, but due to lack of resources and family and work commitments I could never quite manage to get it organized; there was always something more pressing and not so “selfish” to spend money on or so I told myself at the time in an effort to squelch the deep desire. We packed a picnic of water, baguettes filled with cheese, jamón and tomato and an ice cold Sidre Bere to enjoy along the way. Our thoughts were to walk until we didn’t feel like walking anymore. There was absolutely no planning involved, other than the night before on our wonderings around town we discovered the start of a walk to the next village, Pasaia. We returned the next morning around 11:30 with little expectation other than a healthy walk and a good view.  

I was in jaw dropping awe surrounded in ancient nature with spectacular stretches of sea on my left and a canopy of trees shading gnarly entangled stems and roots on my path. The beckoning of the walk started with a few photos to remind us of the journey. It was challenging for me not to want to stop every 5 minutes to take photos. My husband moved ahead while I took in the silence and detail with all my senses observing and perceiving my experience. My body relaxed into a brisk amble as the trees and ground foliage passed me by, the smells of the ground rising to meet my nose as the air heated through the light rays finding rest on the branches and leaves. Contentment started to take a gently grasp as I realised how at peace I was. My head, in competition with this contentment, encouraged my thoughts to fetch old worries and wounds, but they did not find purchase. My surroundings sensed my need to feel cocooned and safe and offered all they could to protect me. My heart lay in wait to be filled with gratitude at every step. There is no better place for me to venture deep into my soul and question my existence. The simplicity of this walk, with little to carry, left me realising how much I had filled and complicated my existence. The cacophony of clutter and gathering of human trappings ostensibly to protect me had turned into my gilt cage of being.  

We needed to stop and enjoy our cider and baguette. Emerging through the shade of the trees, we searched for a suitable resting place, it took us a 20 minute walk in the sun to satisfy ourselves of the desired spot. The yellow moss covered rock overlooking the vast Atlantic Ocean offered us the table we needed for our feast. There were few words spoken as we took in the beauty and quietly appreciated the comfort of silence that comes with 26 years of marriage. Rested and sustained sufficiently we continued our journey again returning to my inward reflection of my life so far. I had been grappling with a few fragile concerns and needed a clear and simple plan to gain clarity and perspective. As if by design and exact purpose in that moment I arrived at the sign, Donejakue Bidea Camino De Santiago. Look! my husband exclaimed we ARE walking the Camino. He knew how desperately I wanted to do this walk years ago and how I had suppressed the need, choosing sensibility instead. Oh, what elation filled my heart, I was on my mini-Camino and with the most important person in my life. We had been walking for 2 hours including our 20 minute break. Ten minutes on we discovered the bridge and so it went as we walked we made small little discoveries all beautiful and breathtaking, arriving into the little town harbour of Pasaia The decent down a steep staircase hugging the rocky shards of outcrop made way on our left to azure depths of sea on our right. We had no idea what lay in wait around the corner. 

Our curiosity demanded a quicker pace and there, lying in wait, was this quaint picture-perfect fishing village filled with small boats leisurely bobbing on the Puerto de Pasajes water, while the colourful houses on the opposite bank looked on. The walk, including stops took us 3 hours. It was a comfortable and enjoyable walk. 

We were inexorably caught up in a small group of curiosity seekers longingly glancing over the water to the other side of the village. We boarded a small ferry boat to take us to Pasai Donibane on the opposite bank. We strolled up Donibane Kalea and unexpectedly stumbled upon Casa de Victor Hugo. It was closed. Slightly disappointed, we continued on in search of a restaurant. We wound our way up the cobbled path onto Juan XXIII Kalea and walked straight into Ontziola Jatetxea restuarant. We sat and ordered a beer and noticed they had a special menu which included 3 courses and a bottle of wine to share for ten euros per person. We were sold! We drank our beers, whilst gazing over the harbour and taking in the local flavour of Spanish chatter. We had absolutely no idea what we had ordered, but were ready to be adventurous for ten euros. What arrived for our starter was a Spanish seafood delicacy, resembling worms. I laughed out loud as we had seen these baby eels, angulas and had managed to avoid them, neither of us brave enough to try them. Feeling free and venturous, we dived in with abandon. I tried not to think of them as worms, but I struggled with the challenge. I can’t say they were delicious or not. It was a case of getting through the course as quickly as possible whilst 

washing them down with large gulps of cheap wine that tasted unexpectedly good. The next course arrived and that too was a generous portion of potatoes and a tomato based fish stew that went down a treat. Lastly the baked apple pie topped off the meal; we were replete and slightly tipsy. Our cheapest meal to date and worth every mouthful of adventure. We settled the “cuenta” and made our way back down the hill to the ferry. Casa de Victor Hugo museum was now open, still freshly addled we tried, in vain to be serious and not breath on anyone as we meandered from room to room attempting to look intellectually interested. I closed my eyes imagining Victor Hugo in this house in 1843. I took photos of the story boards, too giggly to read them then, but discovered later whilst living in this house, writing about his travels in the Alps and the Pyrenees, he received word of the dramatic death of his 19 year old daughter, Léopoldine. I was not meant to read that in this moment whilst on my mini-camino journey of discovery, and I’m grateful I didn’t. 

We started our return journey on the ferry filled with joy and jet fuel. We took an hour and a half to get back to San Sebastian. This was the most unexpected day filled with so many emotions that I had been in search of for too long. Reconnected to my soul mate in a deeply simple way made me realise over the last remaining days of our holiday how important simplicity is in a world full of unrealistic and unfulfilled expectations. In a faraway place we allowed ourselves to be unmistakably free. I’d highly recommend this part of the Camino as a power pilgrimage for those short on time and resources and those looking for a holiday within the journey or even a long weekend in Spain for those lucky enough to live close by in Europe. I love to be surrounded by forests and ocean, on this rare occasion I was lucky enough to experience both. I will return one day and without a doubt I will do the Northern Way. 

Author

Jacqueline Kinnear was born in Scotland in Dec 1968 and emigrated with her parents to South Africa in 1971. She enjoys variety in life and has ventured into Marketing, advertising, restaurant owner, property development and sales, team building facilitation, project management, building renovator, cook and unpublished writer. She lives in a small town on the East Coast of South Africa with her husband Brian of 28 years, their daughter’s cat Aria and their adopted doggie, Kenzi. They have a beautiful daughter Sarah who lives in Cape Town. Jacqueline is currently writing her memoir.  

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