Tony’s Camino

Don’t really want to reminisce too much but this time last year, I was walking the Camino with Irene on the French side of the Pyrenees.

We lost our way and all communication signals somewhere up in highlands where cows and sheep were grazing. We’ve been climbing for several hours on a shepherd’s trail hoping that the next turn would bring us to an inn or the shepherd.  But night was approaching bringing the cold and fog. We were getting desperate.

Tony must be worried. The last time Irene spoke to him was hours ago. Can’t remember how we could have strayed except we did.

After much anxiety, we finally found a road and flagged down a van with a farmer, his young daughter and a big furry dog on their way home from picking wild mushrooms.

So relieved to be ‘saved’ from having to spend the night on the mountainside, we squeezed into the van for a ride to the nearest inn.

Irene didn’t want to tell Tony about this episode. She didn’t want him to get upset and worry about us.

Reason is, Tony wasn’t able to walk with us and wanted Irene to report to him as much as possible about our day – what we did, who we met, where we were, etc. It’s his way of being in the Camino, which he would have loved to do if not for his dialysis.

After one year, I’m back walking again and I was told Tony won’t be around anymore. He passed away this morning in his sleep. It will take some time to accept the sad news but life must go on, as how he would have wanted it.

So Tony, this Camino is for you.

tony

 

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6 thoughts on “Tony’s Camino

  1. That’s such a poignant story told there. Always a shame when the once highly active and adventurous types can no longer participate for whatever health or other reason.

    It does indeed look like the kind of place walkers would derive great pleasure from.

    May your walking and blogging days continue to lie ahead of you so that others can still appreciate them with from a distance.

    In this case a considerable one.

    And a very sentimental and considerate one as well.

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