Page 94 of The Shape of Your Heart
As my Camino continues, I settle into a pace of life I’ve never known before. One of simplicity, breath-taking landscapes, of regional Spanish food. After a week walking with Ryan, when he branches off on another more challenging route, I’m more than happy to be alone for a while.
But I’m not, I’m learning. There are always other hikers, people to breakfast with, times for company and days I’m happy to be alone in this wilderness.
Most of the time, I’m content in my own company, but in the evenings, listening to other people’s stories only serves to remind me that challenging things happen to all of us.
‘If they didn’t, we’d always stay the same people.’ Josefine is a Danish girl I meet almost halfway into the walk. Having nursed her girlfriend through a terminal illness, she’d decided to travel. ‘All the shit stuff makes you strong.’
‘Actually, it broke my heart,’ I tell her.
‘Mine was broken, too.’ She shrugs. ‘It’s strong now – and yours is, too. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have come here. These experiences change us. They give us freedom, too. My girl was adventurous, but she wouldn’t have wanted to walk a Camino with me. And I don’t think I would have come here alone if she was still alive – which seems crazy when you think about it.’
But I know exactly what she means. ‘I’d never have done this alone if I was still with Liam.’ It’s true. I would have happily stayed in my comfort zone.
‘Then this is good,’ she says approvingly. ‘It is a waste of a life never to have an adventure.’
‘Not everyone wants them,’ I point out. ‘For some people, doing a Camino, sleeping in dormitories, not having creature comforts, would be their idea of hell.’
‘Perhaps. So tell me, what made you do it?’
Already it seems strange to think about how I came to do this. ‘Well, to start with, it was because Liam and I were going to do it. I felt like I was doing it for both of us. But while I’ve been walking, I’ve realised something. I’m not doing it for him – or anyone else. There’s only one person I’m doing it for. Myself.’
‘Good for you.’ Josefine high-fives me. ‘I’m doing it because I can’t bear to stay in Denmark. After this Camino, I’m going to Canada. I will work for a while – I have a friend who owns a bar. I can stay there until I’ve saved for the next trip.’
I’m intrigued. ‘Don’t you miss having a home?’
She shrugs. ‘Occasionally. But not enough to stay in one place – for now, anyway. It’s a big world. I want to see more of it.’
And I get what she’s saying. Ever since starting this walk, not only have I met all kinds of people. I’ve been given a window on to an unencumbered, nomadic way of life; one which encapsulates a rare kind of freedom.
That evening, we stop in Llanes. On the beach, Josefine strips down to her underwear.
‘I have to swim, Callie. You should, too.’
I laugh at her. ‘No way. It’s too cold.’
‘It is cold, but that is good,’ she says sternly. ‘You will feel incredible afterwards. Come on…’
The sea is beautiful, sparkling where the low sun catches it; small waves uncurling on to pale sand, as a sudden recklessness takes me over. Stripping off my clothes, I follow her.
Josefine’s right. The same cold that takes my breath away makes me feel vibrantly, ecstatically alive. Josefine duck-dives under the water, her eyes sparkling as she surfaces. ‘Under,’ she orders.
Holding my breath, I do as she says. Feeling the water close over me, for a moment I’m lost from the world, revelling in the sensation, before coming up for air.
* * *
Deciding it’s to be the first of many cold-water swims, I can’t believe I haven’t done this in Cornwall.
The following day, I get up early and watch the sunrise. It’s the best time of day, the streets quietly stirring into life, the beach almost empty when I reach it. Walking along the high-water mark, I peruse the tiny pebbles and fragments of shells, collecting a handful. When Josefine joins me, I show them to her. ‘In Cornwall, I used to make sea pictures,’ I tell her.
Her brow crinkles. ‘Sea pictures?’
‘I’ll show you. But they can be anything.’ Crouching down on the sand, I carefully mark out the outline of a heart shape.
‘Don’t tell me. You’re going to write a guy’s name in there.’ Josefine doesn’t sound impressed.
‘Actually, I’m not.’ Laying the last of my shell-pieces, I trace a single word inside it with one finger.Life.
We catch the café on the beach just as it opens. After a café con leche, we collect our backpacks and continue walking. When we stop for a break and I glance at my phone, I gaze at the date.
