How this eventful trip came about will always be a case for speculation. And where do you begin such a story? Christmas of 2012 having been dispensed with, we had months of cold, miserable winter to look forward. My thoughts turned to glorious sunshine and hot days in the middle of nowhere and the idea of doing something more challenging than cycling through leafy France (a favorite) appealed. Besides, John had occasionally mentioned that he knew of people who had been making their way to Spain to ride a “Camino”. The Camino de Santiago, to be exact.
My response had usually been that I didn’t think I could undertake such a journey. So, while I remembered our forthcoming journey as being “my idea”, John claimed that he had wanted to do it for so long that it was just a matter of time before I warmed to the idea. We did agree, however, that whoever thought of it first, the promise of a fun, ambitious holiday swiftly took hold. Hours of research ensued and we managed to find a wealth of information on the internet from people who had already walked or ridden the Camino.
All were helpful; but none could have possibly relayed the overwhelming effect such a trip would have. In June our Pilgrim’s Passports – a necessary prerequisite for the Camino – arrived. John opened the envelope containing them with trembling hands. They popped out and we both stood there looking at them. “Right” said John “I guess this makes it official and there’s no turning back now”.