As I lace up my shoes for the seventh morning in a row, the sun not yet risen, feet sore, trying to find the will to step out into the silently pouring rain, I am reminded of a line from a Robert Frost poem; “The only way out is through”. This quote has carried me through some of the most difficult challenges of my life, and acts as my daily reminder to persevere, regardless of any and all obstacles in my way.
I have never been one to back down from a challenge, particularly those I have set for myself. As a substitution for my plans of volunteering in India this summer, I cycled the length of Ireland over 6 days, climbed Croagh Patrick solo, completed 5 of Ireland’s greenways and slowly became attuned to the beauty and serenity of our Irish landscape. As the days grew shorter and I settled into a routine of studying from home, I was discontent with the idea that there was terrain to be explored in my local area, roads and paths and parks I had yet to discover. And so, with the company of an equally ambitious (read crazy) friend, I embarked upon my largest challenge to date.
For the six weeks of Ireland’s level 5 lockdown, I will be walking the equivalent of the French Way of the Camino de Santiago, across my north Dublin home. The Camino draws thousands of pilgrims from around the world, hoping that by walking or cycling the 764km across France and Spain, they will reach a sense of peace and enlightenment. I first read about the pilgrimage many years ago and completing the 764km walk has sat atop my bucket list ever since, the empty checkbox beside its name taunting me every summer. Therefore, when my friend approached me with the idea of walking the equivalent of each stage of the Camino within our own local areas, I instantly knew that it would be an incredible experience.
As I write this, my feet lie in a basin of warm water, recovering from my trek from Los Arcos to Logrono (also known as laps of Griffith Park and a visit to the Spire). Over the past 7 days, I have walked 171.05km around Dublin. I have watched the sun rise over the towers of Clontarf, eaten falafels from the Merrion Square Park food fair, watched the squirrels play in the Botanic Gardens. I have become acquainted with the early morning runners of Albert College Park, our silent nods acting as a ritual of mutual appreciation for the glory of the silent roads. I have completed my college lectures in transit, listening to my Gender and Politics lecturer speak on the critiques of first wave feminism while strolling along the banks of the Royal Canal. I even dipped my toe into the waters at Seapoint, silently challenging myself to an early morning dip (once I eventually built up the courage to face the freezing water of the Irish sea).
Our world seems to become more entrenched in bitterness, resentment and division with each passing day. It can be easy to get caught up in the relentless negativity crashing against our waning attempts at finding the silver lining in the darkening clouds. Over the next 5 weeks, for a few hours each morning, I can let all of my stresses and worries fall to the wayside and focus on putting one foot in front of the other, feeling the crunch of the leaves under my feet and the cold wind brush across my warm cheeks. I hope to take you on my journey through lockdown down the path of the pilgrims, sharing my thoughts, feelings, experiences and meditations as I go, keeping blisters to a minimum and spirits as high as they can climb!