A Far Cry From Sunset

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Terry and Val

Here is the tale of two friends. One I met on the Camino, Terry. The other, Val,  has been by my side for more than 30 years.

Terry and Val

In my short time with Terry, apart from keeping me dry and,  when the sun is blazing down, keeping my head cool, he has twice helped me out of a tricky situation.

The first was when, after walking 4km on the wrong side of a fence, I was confronted by a pair of locked steel gates topped with barbed wire. To reach the spot only inches away offered 2 solutions : walk 8km on a day when I had already covered close to 30 or to climb the gates.

First I climbed to the top and wrapped Terry around the barbed wire. Jumping down, I the climbed again to hook my rucksack to the top of the gate. (There was no point in me clambering over only to see me portable home stranded where I had just been!)

With everything prepared, I scaled the gates and, holding on to the highest rail, unwrapped Terry and lowered him to the ground. Then I had to pull my 25lb bag over to the other side. The weight was too much for the fragile hold my toes had on the criss cross fencing and I fell onto the stony ground with a thump. I cut my foot, hand and shoulder, but we had made it. Or maybe not….

Gathering my things I turned to see firstly a railway track and, beyond that an identical gate and fencing barring my from the town on 300 yards away. Wash, rinse and repeat.

Some days later, I found myself in a not too dissimilar situation. Once again, the wrong side of the fence but this time on the other side was a very steep bank about 40 feet from the path. The fence was relatively easy but the bank of prickly thistles and sharp stone was a tough proposition. Once again up stepped Terry.

This time I folded him in half, laid him down, put my rucksack into my lap and used Terry as a sled to slowly slide down the bank to safety.

As much as I am fond of Terry, it doesn’t compare to the deep 30 plus year love affair I have had with Val. In 3 decades of almost constant travel, through so many different countries in all corners of the world, she has been faithfully at my side. She is with me now as I embark on the last stretch of the Camino de Santiago.

I call her Val in honour of a great friend, Val Fifield who, along with her wonderful husband, Bobbies, I have know since I was a boy.

Over the last few years my traveling companion has suffered badly from wear and tear and sometimes looks like only a few threads hold it together. So, on my return from every journey I put her into the healing hands of her namesake, Val Fifield who, with love and skill restores her fresh for the next adventure.

The lining, the side panels and the back are all crafted from various sources from the home of Bobbies and Val. Most poignant of all for me is the shoulder strap. This was once the belt to Val Fifield’s ball gown worn as a young lady attending dances in our shared, beloved home town of Fulham.

Valerie Fifield, it pains me to tell you is currently unwell in hospital receiving treatment for cancer. So with a heavy heart I dedicate this post and the shoulder bag I named in her honour to a beautiful, kind and loving lady. Valerie Fifield.

New Post has been published on http://goo.gl/tzP4Ov

Terry and Val

Here is the tale of two friends. One I met on the Camino, Terry. The other, Val,  has been by my side for more than 30 years.

Terry and Val

In my short time with Terry, apart from keeping me dry and,  when the sun is blazing down, keeping my head cool, he has twice helped me out of a tricky situation.

The first was when, after walking 4km on the wrong side of a fence, I was confronted by a pair of locked steel gates topped with barbed wire. To reach the spot only inches away offered 2 solutions : walk 8km on a day when I had already covered close to 30 or to climb the gates.

First I climbed to the top and wrapped Terry around the barbed wire. Jumping down, I the climbed again to hook my rucksack to the top of the gate. (There was no point in me clambering over only to see me portable home stranded where I had just been!)

With everything prepared, I scaled the gates and, holding on to the highest rail, unwrapped Terry and lowered him to the ground. Then I had to pull my 25lb bag over to the other side. The weight was too much for the fragile hold my toes had on the criss cross fencing and I fell onto the stony ground with a thump. I cut my foot, hand and shoulder, but we had made it. Or maybe not….

Gathering my things I turned to see firstly a railway track and, beyond that an identical gate and fencing barring my from the town on 300 yards away. Wash, rinse and repeat.

Some days later, I found myself in a not too dissimilar situation. Once again, the wrong side of the fence but this time on the other side was a very steep bank about 40 feet from the path. The fence was relatively easy but the bank of prickly thistles and sharp stone was a tough proposition. Once again up stepped Terry.

This time I folded him in half, laid him down, put my rucksack into my lap and used Terry as a sled to slowly slide down the bank to safety.

As much as I am fond of Terry, it doesn’t compare to the deep 30 plus year love affair I have had with Val. In 3 decades of almost constant travel, through so many different countries in all corners of the world, she has been faithfully at my side. She is with me now as I embark on the last stretch of the Camino de Santiago.

I call her Val in honour of a great friend, Val Fifield who, along with her wonderful husband, Bobbies, I have know since I was a boy.

Over the last few years my traveling companion has suffered badly from wear and tear and sometimes looks like only a few threads hold it together. So, on my return from every journey I put her into the healing hands of her namesake, Val Fifield who, with love and skill restores her fresh for the next adventure.

The lining, the side panels and the back are all crafted from various sources from the home of Bobbies and Val. Most poignant of all for me is the shoulder strap. This was once the belt to Val Fifield’s ball gown worn as a young lady attending dances in our shared, beloved home town of Fulham.

Valerie Fifield, it pains me to tell you is currently unwell in hospital receiving treatment for cancer. So with a heavy heart I dedicate this post and the shoulder bag I named in her honour to a beautiful, kind and loving lady. Valerie Fifield.

An Atheist Among the Adoring

An Atheist Among the Adoring This path was built and paved by missionary pilgrims.  Every town, no matter how small, has a plaza major where the locals will sit facing the cathedral. Are their conversations confessional? Their pontificating a form of prayer or praise? It’s not too hard to believe. Sometimes I feel under scrutiny. Do…

New Post has been published on http://www.thekidstaysinthepicture.co.uk/2016/07/16/an-atheist-among-the-adoring/

An Atheist Among the Adoring

An Atheist Among the Adoring

This path was built and paved by missionary pilgrims.  Every town, no matter how small, has a plaza mayor where the locals will sit facing the cathedral. Are their conversations confessional? Their pontificating a form of prayer or praise? It’s not too hard to believe.

Sometimes I feel under scrutiny. Do they sense an Atheist Among the Adoring? 

In the bigger towns, Leon, Burgos and I’m certain, Santiago, the pageantry and ceremony is so extravagant, it’s as if those taking part are trying to prove themselves worthy to be allowed into the house of their God so as to be reunited with those they have loved and lost.

It is the sharpest of double edged swords.

My heart hurts for them as a life in the here and now is dismissed for a life of the there and then.

But I cannot ignore my frustration.

Had I walked the same distance South from St Jean Pied du Port, I would be at the scene of an atrocity carried out in the name of a different God promising an alternative paradise.

Do the followers of one faith not give credence to the followers of another. Even if the rival faith commits acts of such depravity and inhumanity?

Is the treacherous tale of virgin birth, multiple miracles and resurrection that ends in the house of the Lord in eternal bliss, any different to the sickness of sharia law and the promise of numerous virgins in exchange for a murderous martyrdom?

The behaviour of any faith or nation two thousand years ago are ridiculous and spiteful in a post Darwin and Einstein world.

We have grown up. Yet so many cling to the sweetened tales of humanities infancy.

I can’t hate them. But it is and always will be my duty to challenge them.

With love.

Billy x

Huerfano (Orphan) From The Crossing by #CormacMcCarthy – #TheKidsCamino

Huerfano (Orphan) From The Crossing by #CormacMcCarthy – #TheKidsCamino

  I have read so many extraordinary books.  I can say that despite no real education. I read for the joy, not for the exam.  Books changed my life as much as did music.

In my own book I mention that Huckleberry Finn and I are “brothers separated only by fiction.

That said, there is no piece of prose in my own reading history…

New Post has been published on http://www.thekidstaysinthepicture.co.uk/2016/07/15/huerfano-orphan-from-the-crossing-by-cormacmccarthy-thekidscamino/

Huerfano (Orphan) From The Crossing by #CormacMcCarthy - #TheKidsCamino

Huerfano (Orphan) From The Crossing by #CormacMcCarthy – #TheKidsCamino

  I have read so many extraordinary books.  I can say that despite no real education. I read for the joy, not for the exam.  Books changed my life as much as did music.

In my own book I mention that Huckleberry Finn and I are “brothers separated only by fiction.

That said, there is no piece of prose in my own reading history where a character turned his head from the page, stared me in the eye and told me how my life was and how it should be.

It’s from The Crossing by Cormac Mccarthy,  the greatest living writer of our time. You will be hard pressed to find anything more beautiful.  Please read and share as much as you can.  Thank you so much.

Billy

“He told the boy that although he was huerfano ( an orphan) still he must cease his wanderings and make for himself some place in the world because to wander in this way would become for him a passion and by this passion he would become estranged from men and so ultimately from himself. He said that the world could only be known as it existed in men’s hearts. For while it seemed a place which contained men it was in reality a place contained within them and therefore to know it one must look there and come to know those hearts and to do this one must live with men and not simply pass among them. He said that while the huerfano might feel that he no longer belonged among men he must set this feeling aside for he contained within him a largeness of spirit which men could see and that men would wish to know him and that the world would need him even as he needed the world for they were one.”

  Billy Franks.

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On your marks, get set..

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Over The Hill Then A Monastery That Tortures You With Flip Flops!

(This post was written on Wednesday night, only now had the time and means to post it} Before I tell ... Read More

Rest & Reflection on the #Camino

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The title of this post is also the title of the 2nd song I have started writing on my journey ... Read More

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It Takes Only One Dark Day It takes only one dark day Death is one breath or heartbeat away 35 ... Read More

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Do you remember when, with a mixture of excitement and adoration, I posted this picture? Well, in what has become ... Read More

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Beautifully enough, the day ended with me recounting my tale and singing for 30 folks outside a cafe. They each ... Read More

Huerfano (Orphan) From The Crossing by #CormacMcCarthy – #TheKidsCamino

Dead End on The Kid’s #Camino

http://www.thekidstaysinthepicture.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/The-Dead-End-on-The-Kids-Camino.mp4

Beautifully enough, the day ended with me recounting my tale and singing for 30 folks outside a cafe. They each promised to forward vids and pics so I’ll update when they arrive.

Another day, another adventure on The Kid’s #Camino!

Carrion Up The #Camino

L0uzlkc5 Days spent walking the Camino are serene, thoughtful and inspiring. Your evenings are a different matter. They are usually communal and bring together a vast array of people from all over the world and of a variety of ages, faiths and backgrounds.

There evenings are fun.

My time spent in Carrion was farcical, mysterious but more than anything else, heartwarming.

It all began as the sun…

Here Comes The Sun!

Do you remember when, with a mixture of excitement and adoration, I posted this picture?

Well, in what has become the dominant topic of the Camino travellers, the Meseta de Camino de Santiago is a walk of 8 days with no shade.

How often would you hear that in the UK and prepare for a street party?

Not here. I personally am not too worried. I’ve done my research and will set off suitably prepared.

It Takes Only One Dark Day

It Takes Only One Dark Day

It takes only one dark day Death is one breath or heartbeat away  35 bodies in an old shallow grave Equidistant from the houses of Wordsworth and Dante Tied to a lamppost a plastic bouquet  Heads bowed, unmoved, implacable they wait For nightfall to bathe them in darkness, they pray Like hands palmed at midnight in whispers they say Remember, remember, remember  It…

Between The Two Ends of The World (Yes, Another Song Title)

Between The Two Ends of The World (Yes, Another Song Title)

From this day forward, you must bare witness to the fact that you saw this titles here first!

So here’s a story :

  Four further days walk from the pilgrims finishing line in Santiago, is a place called Finisterre, roughly translated from Spanish means, the end of the world.

          There is another spot in upstate New York, Long…

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Rest & Reflection on the #Camino

Rest & Reflection on the #Camino

  Found a lovely small private room in Pamplona so decided that, after my first 3 days, having developed a huge foot blister and some spinal pain, it would be the best choice for my first day of rest.

  I have now parted company with my travelling companions, Russell and his son, James.

For a few days at least, it will become my Camino.

When you’re walking over hills, crossing rivers, swishing

your way through forests and scrambling up rocky pathways, there is little time for reflection.

As soon as you stop, even for a few moments, you get this strange feeling of tranquillity, simplicity and beauty.

http://www.thekidstaysinthepicture.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/20160624_135653.mp4

It’s not a flash of insight or revelation, just a peaceful acceptance of  “it is what it is.”

Slowly lightening my load and my sense of worry.

Going to take a stroll around the town and get some lunch.

Adios mi amigos y mi amigas.

In Honour Of A Different James

Another day, another 25 k.

First damn blister starting to show. Tips anyone?  5am and off for breakfast in pamplona.

Last 10 km of yesterday’s walk, got caught in a thunderstorm. Was gorgeous after 3 days of 30±.. No WiFi in hostel so will update completely tomorrow, Saturday. Hope all is well with all of you.

Billy

See the shell tied to my rucksack? They give you those at the start.

Right…

Over The Hill Then A Monastery That Tortures You With Flip Flops!

(This post was written on Wednesday night, only now had the time and means to post it} 

Before I tell you about my day, let’s get one thing straight : I have,  do and always will hate flip flops. In the history of footwear nothing comes even close to their their non-functional, idiotic sounding, uselessness. But I  digress. 

It’s been a quite incredible day. Unlike anything I have attempted…

The Post Man Always Sings Twice…

Hi everyone. With a lack of WiFi and phone signal up in the Pyrenees, I simply couldn’t post after yesterday’s monster of a walk. Best part is I made and yesterday’s post, which has some short video clips, is uploading as I write.

  Today was a little easier but up and down mountain sides in 33% heat was never going to be that easy.

  I’m now through 2 days of 27 km per day and I’m feeling OK.

T…