Fr Jim's Blog

 These two days at Finisterre have been somewhat of a retreat. It's been time to do some of the reading, praying, thinking and journalling which I thought I would get done on the Way, but didn't. To stop. To not need to go anywhere. To not just be at peace, but also to be still.   It's been time to turn my heart to home, which for me includes starting to read the scripture readings of the upcoming Sunday Masses, to let them start to percolate in me, so that I can prepare a homily next week and then for the weeks ahead.  It's also been a nice step down from the intensity and busyness of being part of a group, always on the move, to having just one other person around, to then going home on my own. Josh and I gave each other plenty of time and space yesterday to do our own thing, each of us in more reflective mode, before meeting up in the afternoon for a long awaited swim and then dinner.  Admittedly, not great swimming weather. Finisterre is 42 degrees north and on the

 Sometimes you need a holiday to get over the holiday.  Today was a day of farewells as our group went our separate ways, which of course was always going to happen.  and so it was that Josh and I took the long and windy bus west from Santiago, snaking over the Gallican mountains and oh so many wind turbines  and in and out of beautiful fishing villages to arrive at Finisterre on the western coast of Spain.  I snagged a great last minute deal on a two bedroom apartment which even has two bathrooms, and a balcony overlooking the bay.  We were both disproportionately happy to go to a supermarket and stock up because for the first time in a month (or two for Josh who was travelling before the Camino) we have a kitchen, and a fridge, and nowhere we have to go tomorrow. I bought broccoli.  To spend two consective nights in the same place will be the start of coming down from the Camino, and facing back toward home.    

Each day of the Camino has been for me a time of gratitude for each year of my priesthood. Having come to 2024 yesterday, the final day of walking was a time to reflect on the Camino itself.  I am grateful for the time, the opportunity and the means to be able to walk it.  I am grateful for a body which, for the most part, works well enough that I could walk the 1.3 million steps which Max's Strava calculated on our 800ish km.  I am grateful for the many hospitaleros and staff at albergues, some of whom are volunteers for their hospitality.  I am grateful for the capacity to enjoy being alone, and to be with people. I am grateful for the capacity to perceive beauty and to experience awe and wonder.  And as I walked along I recognised that this has been one of the now four great side trips of my life.  The trajectory of my life is pretty straightforward, from seminary at aged 19 to ordination at age 26 through ministry in parish after parish through to now. And I am grateful to God

 And so my reflections arrive at last at 2024! This is actually day 28 of walking, because I've had a couple of extra reflections on this blog which were tucked in between the annual ones.  When I first planned to walk the Camino the 25 days for 25 years seemed perfect. Then I realised that I might need a few extra days (I've got 33 on the ground in Spain), but I still secretly thought I'd crush the walking part and have time to arrive in Santiago, walk to Finisterre, and maybe even walk back to Santiago.  But one thing the Camino has taught me is humilty (and I'll write more on this later I think). I thought that as an experienced hiker and with my natural walking speed it would all be a piece of cake. But the ankle injury on day 2 which almost sent me home slowed me down, and as the ankle healed the constant blisters took over. But the blisters are now manageable, and I think I'll be able to finish strong.  And the finishing line is in sight: today we passed the 1

 Scrap yesterday's declaration that it was the best day of walking. Today was the best day of walking, even if it was by accident.  There are a number of detours on the Camino (which makes the 800km total variable). The choice is usually to follow a main road, or detour out through the countryside. Josh and I had intended to take the main road today, but ended up on the detour, which added several kilometers, but was so worth it.  We walked in a light drizzle through bucolic farmland where the ground was soft under foot, and up into a temperate rainforest. At one stage we just stopped to eat a couple of apples which Josh had picked from an overhanging tree and to look at the raindrops creating ripples on the surface of pond far below, and to listen to the rush of the water further down. We probably stood there in silence for ten minutes, and if I had to name the best ten minutes of the Camino, that might have been it.  The detour also took us through to the Benedictine monastery of

Today was probably the nicest day of walking so far. I descended from the mountain town of O Cebreiro down to Triacastela at 700m which doesn't have the three castles I was expecting. I started in the dark (sunrise is 8.20am) and in cloud but along an easy sand & gravel surface. A couple of hours in I met up with Ophelie, Raf and Chelsea at a cafe for breakfast, and then half an hour later met caught up with Josh who had found a prime position to just sit and absorb the landscape as the clouds burned off the mountain and revealed the valley floor. Josh and I then walked the rest of the steep but lovely descent into town, having another great faith conversation along the way.   Am I really disappointed that there is not a castle in town, let alone three? No, not really. We've been walking past so many cathedrals and churches, castles, monuments and museums yet hardly going into any of them. Tim was saying at lunch that he's surprised at the lack of FOMO about all the thi

What was today's Camino surprise? After a cool and drizzly start to the day of walking 20km we then rode horses up the steep section of the ascent to the beautiful town of O Cebreiro at 1400m. I'm not sure I so much rode the horse as just sat still while it, very tame and well trained followed it's well known path at walking speed. Still, a lovely alternative to being footsore at the end of the day.  The town of O Cebreiro is lovely, with outstanding views over the valleys below. Our Camino family is growing with the addition of Max from Boston and Charlotte from Michigan.   At the end of dinner I announced that I was going to the evening Mass, and half of the group came to join me which was lovely as I have usually gone to Mass on my own. Josh and I tried to go to Mass a few nights ago in another town but turned up to an empty church so we just said our own prayers.  I am so enjoying this little group, both for who they are and the fun we have, but also because it takes aw

When I went into the Tasmanian wilderness on Jan 2nd to begin a hike the news was reporting that there was a new viral pneumonia in China. By the time I emerged 7 days later and had internet again authorities were bolting doors shut in Wuhan and the covid pandemic had begun.  My mum had died in the middle of December, very peacefully, "floating off to heaven on a cloud of morphine" as my sister described it. As the lockdowns began in February and March which aged care places would never truly emerge my family and I were so grateful that mum died when she did and didn't have to go through the lockdown in aged care.  Lockdown was new for all of us as churches, schools, businesses and families bought zoom subscriptions and then tried to work out how to live in extraordinary times. There was one week when large gatherings were prohibited so Masses were cancelled, but we were allowed to have the churches open for private prayer. But a week later churches were to be shut, and i

These guys are slowing me down  and I love it!  Today we went to the the Cruz de Ferro, which is actually quite a small cross atop a very large pole, but surrounded by the countless thousands of rocks and stones that have been placed by pilgrims over the years. It had an eerie, sacred, almost Anzac Day- like solemnity as people approached, placed their stones, some stood and touched the monument, and then returned. One woman was praying in tears.  Every stone is a hope, a dream, a prayer, a decision, a loss, a memory that someone has placed there.  Before I left for Spain I had an hour long, fantastic confession with a wise old priest whom I trust. I had three things to confesss. Not three individual sins, but three patterns of sin I recognise over the course of my priesthood which I want to repent of.  I placed three small stones which represent those three areas of repentance on the pile.  But my growing little group of friends are  slowing me down, because we are taking time to stop

Today was such a lovely, easy day. I wanted to aim for the town of Foncebaddon, elevation 1400m so that I can get to the Cruz de Ferro (The Iron Cross) for sunrise tomorrow. Josh, Tim and Ophelia are joining me, so with only 15km to walk we had a late start at 8am after an incredibly comfortable night, with a stop for morning tea on the way and arriving in town in time for lunch.  The albergue is one of the very basic ones, with 18 people in double bunks crammed into a very small room, and a disco toilet whose light pulses on and off.   We've met up here with some of Tim & Ophelia's friends from their first days, so some happy reunions.  Meanwhile, I'm remembering 2018.  2018 brought for me the surprise move to Chatswood Parish, but I had, for the first time, had a full 6 year term as parish priest in Kincumber so it reasonable for Bishop Peter to move me.  The move to Chatswood came with a mandate to get a development started such as was already planned for Epping (and

 Today the Camino became fun again.  Josh and I started the day walking together having a great conversation about faith and walking through the sunrise which featured an enormous orange setting full moon.  After a couple of hours we stumbled on to an oasis in the middle of a field, a donativo (give what you want) feast with plenty of people (and cats) gathered.  We met up with Tim from Melbourne and Ophelia from Germany whom I'd met a couple of nights before.  In fact when I wrote on the blog a couple of nights ago about the unlikelihood of Camino families, but never saying never to whatever could emerge, even with the next person to arrive in the albergue, Tim walked in a minute later.  So we climbed a tower, because it was there,  then spent the day walking together.  We stopped for lunch in Astorga, which I usually don't do, and then Ophelia convinced Josh and I to walk one town further than we had planned, and Tim one town less than he had planned to stay in a little hippy

At what point did I think it would be a good idea to walk off into the bush on my own in the dark with a headlamp whose batteries were running out? It was 7am this morning, and I had to choose, as will happen more often now, between the main route along a highway, and a scenic cross country route which might be one or two km longer, but much nicer walking.  I chose well. After just a few minutes in the scrub I emerged onto a paved country road which wove through a couple of small towns and farmland, much like some of the initial days of the Camino did. And the gathering dawn kicked in before my headlamp gave out.  It was a very quiet day though. I spoke to only one other walking pilgrim the whole 28km. But I had an animated conversation in broken Spanish with an old Spanish man who was riding his pushbike towards me. At one point in the conversation he was listing place names and pointing in different directions, to which I would reply si or no for whether I had been there or was going

 Martin Sheen's film The Way  is how many of us imagine the Camino, but much of it is of course fiction. I think I believed in the idea of "the Camino family", that like Martin Sheen's character you'd pick up some friends in the early days and then walk the whole route together and cross into Santiago all holding hands. This doesn't seem to be anybody's experience that I can see. My little group has gone off in many directions. A group of four whom I met on day 2 who seemed so tight that I was sure they'd become an instant Camino family have now scattered (I see a couple of them here and there), and the Scandinavian choir boys also seem to have split.  But what does happen (at least in my experience) is the same people keep reappearing every few days, often to one another's surprise when you thought that the other was miles away. For me at the moment that is German father and son Torsten and Paul, Italian med student Giuseppe, non-singing Norwegian

Spanish trains are very nice. This is me on the 8am train today from Sahagun (the halfway point) to El Burgo Ranero, which shaved 15km off today's walk so that it was only another 17km to my destination of Reliegos. Wide, comfortable seats, 2 euro fare, much better than anything at home.   I caught the train today because I know I've got to be more cautious with my blisters, which, happily, as I write this afternoon seem to have turned a corner. There's been one pinky toe which is so jammed into the shoe that it just wouldn't heal, but I think it's on the way now. And a new enormous one on the pad of the heel of the same foot, probably from walking awkwardly to avoid the pinky. But the big one popped as I was walking, is clean, and seems better now.  Enough of the blisters, but they are a constant conversation on the Camino.  I am loving the Meseta, this flat middle section of the Camino. I realised today as I looked out across the alternating fields of sunflowers a

Perspective. Was today an awful day or a beautiful day? I could say that it was lonely and boring, walking 5 hours on my own along the side of a road, walking here rather than on the gravel of the official path which to use Mykey's words, is like walking on Lego with my ever growing blisters.  Or I could say that I got to walk in the utter silence of the waking morning, stopping at intervals to notice the stars fade, the colour of the sky morph, and the distant jagged mountains reveal themselves. I arrived early into the town of Saragun, the half way point of the Camino to have lunch, the meet up again with Anders for a beer in the afternoon sun, then check into an albergue run by the Marist Brothers where for the princely sum of E20 I have my own room for the first time.  I choose the latter.  The silence and aloneness was important today because my friend and mentor Kevin Craik died, and his funeral was today. Not much can sway me from my year by year recollections, but Kevin'