Losing My Way

It’s pretty hard to get lost on the Camino de Santiago. The hundreds of thousands of people who walk it every year make the path clear, the way-marking is fantastic and plentiful. Of course there are exceptions to the rule. On our second night, Andy and I met a young Hungarian who was so eager to start the Camino that even though his bus didn’t arrive in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port until 5pm, he decided to take off across the Pyrenees. As will happen when you’re hiking in the dark across a mountain range with no cell reception and no other humans around, he got lost. He told us a wolf found him in the middle of the night (I think he meant dog, but wolf adds some heightened drama to the story) and started growling and barking. Eventually a shepherd wandered up to him. The shepherd didn’t speak English and the Hungarian didn’t speak French, but “Camino” is pretty universally understood. Apparently our friend was much more lost than he thought - the shepherd ended up driving him 25 km back to the Camino. “How did you get so lost?!?” I asked. “I followed a wrong path,” he said. “Also,” he looked at me sheepishly and made the universal gesture for smoking weed. That first night didn’t phase him though — we never saw him again because he’d walk 50 km a day (we’d be lucky to do 20 km), but he sent Andy WhatsApp updates of his adventures. He found his path.

Some examples of Camino waymarking

Hiking in England and Wales, however, has been less straightforward, especially once we went inland. A few weeks ago, I decided to go for a hike near Machynlleth. It looked straightforward enough - a loop through some hills, connecting with some of the more well-known paths in Wales, including Glyndwr’s Way. It was ten miles, but I was freshly off my nine mile walk along the River Mawddach and was feeling pretty confident.

What I had failed to remember was that the River Mawddach path was flat - and easy to follow. As I huffed and puffed my way out of town, climbing up the Roman Steps and into the hills, I began to think this walk might take a little longer. I’d started later than I realized too - I only had three hours of daylight left. I had to get a move on.

The navigation continued to be difficult. The sign posts were infrequent, and hundreds of thousands of people don’t come to this part of central Wales every year, so the paths were often faint. I was using the Ramblers app to guide me - switching back and forth between the map and the text description of where I was supposed to go. Even with the signposts and the app, I still ended up going through a little bog before realizing I had to backtrack and take a different fork in the path.

The correct fork led me through a gate and out into the hills with spectacular views of Machynlleth and the hills and valleys beyond. As the path wound its way through the hills, it felt as though I was getting further and further from civilization - the comforting sight of Machynlleth had disappeared. It felt even more isolated as I rounded a bend and entered a tree plantation.

I was completely absorbed in the walk. It reminded me of when I did Muay Thai, an activity I found relaxing, almost meditative. You had to be completely in the moment when practicing combinations with your partner - otherwise someone might get hurt. There was no room to think of anything else but what was in front of you.

Usually, walking is the complete opposite. That’s the appeal of it, really. You can look around and let your mind wander. But on this walk, I was in Muay Thai mode - complete concentration on what was in front of me. The path was narrow - hemmed in by gorse and some other prickly plant - so I tried to avoid being snagged while also trying to avoid the giant puddles. I was looking for sign posts and checking the map on my phone. No time for Deep Thoughts - just one foot in front of the other. I finally burst through the trees and into the rolling hills again. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see sheep.

Hello, friend

It was cloudy and, when the days are so short, it feels like a perpetual dusk. I’m a fast walker, but I knew I wouldn’t complete the loop before it got dark. I noticed a path on the map that would shave a few miles off the loop, so set off up a muddy hill. The third time I fell, I decided the universe was trying to tell me something; I’d done enough for the day. I’d hiked more than six miles, a respectable enough amount. Luckily, I had cell reception, so I called Andy and asked him to pick me up at the end of a logging road.

My walk in pictures - beauty, confusion, more beauty, logging road, my hero

I’m not a brave outdoors person. Living in California, I know so many people who backpack in the Sierras and explore the backcountry. Don’t get me wrong - I love California and all of its wildness, but I stick to the well-marked paths when I’m outside of San Francisco.

Rambling in England and Wales has taught me that I’m capable and brave enough to take the less well-marked paths. I’ve learned from my mistakes on the Mach hike - give yourself plenty of time, understand the route you’re choosing, have a plan B. For as many sheep as there are in this country, I’ve only seen a handful of shepherds, so I can’t depend on their intervention like our Hungarian friend. I’ve got to get lost - and found - my own way.