“The winter is past, the flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtle dove is heard in our land.”
Song of Solomon 2:11-12

I left the Camino last September feeling distinctly crestfallen. I had been stopped in my tracks by the after-effects of a bout of Covid: I simply had not allowed myself enough time to recover – and indeed, on my return, I was exhausted for two months. Looking back I realise I was lucky not to have developed long Covid.

My desire to continue, however, remains as strong as ever, and I began planning this next stage at the beginning of the year, when April seemed a long way off. My preparations are, effectively, complete. I leave on Easter Day in the afternoon, and will be down in Bazas, my starting point, by Monday evening. Learning from last year, my distances are not too ambitious, and with a combination of walking and workouts with my excellent movement coach, James, I feel ready to go.

People ask me how I organise the programme. I have a regular rhythm to the business of walking the Camino. I stay either at hostels, or at B&Bs that offer a special pilgrim rate. These people do it for no profit, but give you a good bed, an evening meal, a hearty breakfast, and often a pack up as well. They are the ones who ask you if you need any washing doing, or anything else that needs sorting out, like a trip to the shops if they are out of the way. Quite often they are people who have walked the Camino themselves, or who have some special motivation for supporting pilgrims. Hostels are sometimes run by charities who support pilgrims. The best of these run a system of hosting their premises. A couple will be there to cook and look after the visitors, and they all offer washing and drying facilities. Many municipalities have hostels as well. These can be fairly basic but adequate, with cooking facilities for you to make a meal – but sometimes you can find a host who is there to help with that.

A typical day begins early. Up in time to wash dress, pack up, and be ready for breakfast about seven. Check over equipment to make sure all is in order, don one’s boots, neck gaiter and hat, plus sun cream if necessary, and you are ready to go by eight. This is a good time to walk (unless it is tipping it down – when the big pncho covering walker and rucksac is deployed), and a steady pace soon eats up the kilometres. Plentiful water stops (filling up the bottle if you find a tap), and a snack halfway through the morning. I use the first part of the day to listen to Morning Prayer on my earpods – but then I take them out and listen to the trees and the birds.

Because I am not aiming at very long walks each day I have time to stop and investigate anything of interest I pass near. Sometimes churches will have a visitors book to sign, or a town hall office will stamp my pilgrim passport to show I passed that way. At lunch I will have a picnic or buy some food if I am in a conurbation. Usually by this time I have walked most of twenty kilometres, and I won’t have many more to do – so I can have a snooze after lunch, or go and visit some place of interest. Then a shorter afternoon walk will get me to my lodgings for the night.

On arrival, if it is hosted, there will be a drink and some chat. Then I pay, and get my pilgrim passport stamped. Then I am shown to my room, and can have an hour or two to shower and change, put my feet up, and think over the day. Supper is often a communal meal with hosts, and perhaps with other pilgrims, and then I write and read until bedtime – also taking time to look ahead to the next day’s walk, and spotting any tricky bits. The whole pattern of the day has a rhythm and a simplicity that makes encounters with people and places somehow very charming.

Today is Maundy Thursday and I am going to be singing in Derby Cathedral for the next two days, before returning to Southwell for the Easter Vigil on Saturday evening. The Triduum (Three days) goes from gloom to deep darkness, with lessons about love and faithfulness along the way – ending with the desolation of the Cross. Out of that apparent ending and defeat, negation and crushing disappointment comes the astonishing reversal of Easter, when love comes again and everything is made new. And on that day – Easter, the first of all the days to come – I will hear again the Lord calling me to follow on the pilgrim path: as the Song of Solomon puts it: “Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.”