Courage and Apprehension

All these worries

Are but a learning

Cause really

I'm living in 

the hands of the Gods.

All this is meant to be.

And so it went. About a month before I planned to leave a quite but unsetteling feeling of apprehension crept over me, about what exactly it was I was going to be doing, what I was giving up and how it would all unroll. I felt cornered by my own desire to travel, without a real clear vieuw as to where, how, what. But as I carefully packed my gear, said goodby to those in my inner circle, my shiatsu buddies and collegues, flashes of future adventures kept me going together with the deep longing for the wild, the open and the Jungle.

And so I left, on the 17th of June 2016 my dear mother offered to drop me off at the nearest petrol station towards the south. I can only start to imagine how hard it must have been to push the one you love so much into an uncertain world, knowing you will not likely see him again soon, and still to stay with it, smiling, from the inside. That to me, is a sign of pure devotion and strong will I deeply admire.

To plukkrijp it was, a community I'd been coming back to for the last six years, seeing it evolve and grow from a happy woofing farm to something bordering on a commune with sect like qualities. If that sounds extreme, that's how it felt, this time. I did not feel as welcome as I have been in the past, although Martine and Frank were as open as ever. There was a circle that afternoon where a native colombian couple of the Kogi tribe shared their philosophy and way of life, which was very touching and interesting. For some five days I worked there, trying to understand the group dynamics, but feeling somewhat excluded because I did not wish to share in their Tantric vision of self deployment. There was abundance as ever though, and after sorting through boxes and boxes of mouldy fruits, I made my way to Gent. Ghosh I do like Ghent and that night there was a Boombal in the centrale. A kind of folkdancing night in perhaps my favourite venue ever. The high, high glass ceiling supported by green iron shod metal rafters, gracious walls of coloured brick, and space enough to dance for more that 300! Well, so you'd think, but after the inicial introduction more and more beautiful people kept joining in until even this dance floor seemed to small. Hours we jumped and whirled, intimately shuffeled and bathed ourselves in sweat untill at last I found place to hide from the advancing daylight in a room with three jolly student girls, where we all made our own beds. The sun admonished morning saw me making me hitching a ride to Paris, Two rides in fact, before I checked in at Rojwan and Lory's place on the lower slopes of Mont Martre. They made me a warm welcome in their tiny appartment and showed me around town next day with paris's great Velib Bike system, where, if your clever, switch bikes avary half hour, and so travel cheap. For a few days I hung about this ancient Town, staying some days at one of their friends house in a more casual part of town, with african cafe's lining the streets and a familliar ghetto like feel reminding me of my own home. Home......No longer My home.....But A home non the less. What is it like, to live without a home? Let's find out (again?) As Rojwan went to Amsterdam the weekend I was in Paris he brought me back some handy supplies from the home front (what! I'd only been away for a week and already.....? Yes, My backpack was falling apart rapidly......and ofcourse, I had way to much stuff..... You only really start to realize the truth of what that means, of what really IS essential gear, when you have to lodge it on your back over hill and mountain days on end. )  Paris got to me though, like any big city does, and so as soon a s I could I let the big black road carry me southward, to the summits of the puy the Dome. This is a string of extinct vulcanoes covered in thick woods surroundes by lovely french country side. You didn't know there was vulcanoes in Fance? Well, neither did I untill some two years ago, when I passed them by car and told myself that if ever I had a chance, I should go and hike them. So now was that time, and great was my appitite for nature. Stocking up in the town of Riom, I set of along a beautifull path up, up and up again. A lot of climbing is what lingers in my mind about that time. Some gorgeous wild craters filled with wildflowers, buzzing insects and tall grass. Walking along a ridge from peak to peak one gets a lovely vieuw of the old beasts and the lands beyond. A patchwork of yellowing fields and forrests, with cosy herds of brown cows here and there. The tallest Puy in the chain was known to the Romans too who built a huge temple devoted to mercury on the top, mad people, absolutely mad. The remaind are still clearly visible. Huge blocks of black stone, which they (or rather, their slaves) towed up the hill by man and donkey! Covered in clouds as high hills tend to be I did get a chance to observe how the clouds play with the mountains, mixing and stretching, a lovely sight indeed.

Making it a habit to bath every day after hiking I camped by a clear blue lake that night, protected from the chill of the wind by a grove of tall pines and my loyal rain poncho. More hiking and lovely landscape ensued, bringing me to the puy the Sancy area where bleak and open roling hill got me feeling in scotland, or wandering through the forlorn landscapes of westeros, only a few knights were lacking, albeit not in my Imagination....

That night, it was the fourth after leaving paris, I hit the road again and by sheer wonder and great friendliness made it to Le bellet in seven (magic, yesss) rides in under two hours. Le bellet is a set of three cottages and a largish barn on the wodded slopes of the Dordogne river in southern France. Thay have been inhabited by two good friends of mine, Karel and Kristien, who'm I have knows since my early wooffing days in Belgium. Kristien works with kids and pony's and Karel always has something or other to build, fix, along with growing vegatables in one of their three lovely gardens. So for a week I stayed with them, helping where I could, sweeping, playing horse, pulling weeds, mixing cement, cooking, you know, the usual kind of stuff. They recieve a lot of guests over the summer who come and rent the cottages and so aside from the daily work I took this as a chance to practice some Shiatsu, and make some people happy. Le bellet is truely a lovely place, at some 300 meter above the dordogne on a side stream, they have their own waterfall, 4 natural springs, 6 goats, acres of super wild forrest, and a natural swiming pool. Because all this was not enough we also went kayaking on the clear and virulenty delicious water of the Dordogne river one day, after the cosy market at Argentat. All the houses in this region seem to have been torn out of a fearytale with brown rough walls, chunky slate roofs and flowery creepers up every wall. After a week of delicious food, homemade pizza, sun and lots of laughter I packed myself again, and went south further still.
Toulouse way my inicial destination, than Lourdes, which, again by wonder, I reached that same afternoon. But what was more. The kindly man who took me also offered me to stay in his house, and join the barbecue with his fammily. How lucky am I again!!? What kindness all about me. He even dropped me of in the center of town so I could wonder around a bit between all the fervent Catholics in the chaos of this holy shrine. I could only marvel at it all. Especcialy the social side, with openair sermons near the place where Bernadette is said to have seen the Virgin, and water sprouted from the rocks ever forth. It had it's beauty, I must confess, yet I feel more attracted by the temples of Nature, the sacred groves, the lofty abodes on the barren peaks of mountains, that I was about to enter. In the morning the kind family even drove me a distance into the right direction, as they were going for a pick-nick there anyway, and so I started walking from the town of Luz-St. Saveur.
A deep sharp valley I climbed as I set out, past the thermal springs, past the bridge with the bungee jumping folks, past Noortje, a girl I know from years back in Amsterdam that I bizarrely just met there, on the road with her boyfriend, in the mountains, yes of course....
Trying to walk in the GR routes, I quickly became frustrated with their leisurely ways. Not seeming to care how much useless climbing and descending one must do to advance only a little. So I chose for the road down in the bottom of the valley, even though there was cars, it was a great improvement. At times the river pushed itself through deep cuts in the gray rock, so deep that it disappeared all together from sight. Green walls rose up on either side at just 44% percent angle to prevent rocks from choosing for the abyss, and I went higher. Choosing the protective cover of a concrete bus stand seemed to have been the right choice that night as my sleep was disturbed by the rolling thunder and white lightning echoing off the surrounding peaks.

Sun on the mountain

Light in my Heart

I'm up for the walk now

So let's make a start

Let's make a start

Let us begin

Open your Eyes

Let the light in

Morning was clear though and soon I found myself in Gavernie, marveling at the power of nature there displayed. Over the simple roofs of the small town rose up the Cirque de Gavernie. A full, or even more than semi-circle of towering rock capped in the late winter snows, adorned by no less that 20 separate waterfalls dropping their white content hundreds of meters through thin air before exploding upon the green and weathered valley below. The majestic of this whole spectacle must truly be personally beheld, but I can say I was deeply impressed, and marveled for a good while as the clouds from the valley tried to catch me until I finally left them behind.
 Than over green and juicey pastures of the high valleys I passed, walking there where once glaciers had their ways and creeping between stones and boulders of house size or more. For the Pass I made, quieted by the purity and sauvage of the place. Deserted caves and barren rock all around, none but me for a human to be seen. But overhead, two different eagles circled, one brown spotted, the other black and white, gracious at every turn, observing, hovering, seeing. Seeing the marmots that I was seeing too I'm sure, with their silly cute walking fashion and flappy fat tails. Trunching trunching, carrying the weight of that which I deem essential om my back, I joined my mind with Nature, and was. The surrounding stone opened me, tore my to pieces, unified my mind. There is such awsome power in the simplicity if those savage mountains, their perplexing folds, and obvious ancientness, that when I decended from the windyness of the pass, and reached the welcoming cover of the first trees, it felt as a true home. Having to choose beside the secrity of a refuge building, there, on the open mountain, or the cover of a green beech grove by a stream, I chose the latter, and tied my hammock in the crown of an woody elder of the trees. The clouds decided otherwise though and sent their full wetness against my plan, making me retreat to the refuge anyway. Much sleep I did not get that night though, walls of stone or nay, but rats I had plenty of, and they tried to nibble my toes and hair. Happily the morning was good and clear and once again by that delicious creek her water was irresistable, and I bathed in it's amazing clarity. Oh pretty rocks, of lovely water, how do I appriciate your song, the music you play without end, or effort. As a child I lingered there a bit, in full emersioun of the moment, the trees, the water. Than down again, to the valley, where this water joined more water, just as pure, effortless, without any resistance the two became one, and I followed. A beautiful rushing bubbeling white and blue river it was, flanked by the most amazing green woods, the subtle sunlight filtered through infinite moss covered branches and foliage, fallen truncs and giand marbles surely forgotten by some giant or other. The good water came from every side it seemed. The valley was a deep gorge flanked on both sides by majistic walls of stone. And on every latch and in every crevice there was some or other life growing, trying to hold on. As the day advanced, so did I, and there the first town came in sight. It was Torla. Really I had not the slightest incling that the pyrenees contained anything this wild. Three days without suplies got me biting into some amazingly juicy fruits right away. Ola! Ah si... I was in Spain.

I spent a last night in those mountains, camped by a cherry grove, and than made for Pamplona. Well, actually I didn't make specifically for anywhere but west, but Pamplona is where I ended up. And I wasn't alone in that respect. As soon as we hit the center ( my hitching driver and me) it seemed that red and white were the only colors acceptable to wear. I had to check this out, so I stayed on, and ended up right in the middle of the festival of San Fermin. Little did I know what that meant, and so much the wiser have I become ever since. Madness!  Imagine Kingsday in Holland, but than for days on end, all red and white! It was great. I just walked around all night in this rather beautiful city, soaking up the vibe, meeting some funny people and in the end ending up on a bench in the park with two whole pizzas in my posession. That was after the most amazingly spectacular fireworks show I've ever witnessed, as I sat among thousands near the Citadel, After seeing a mock bull full of fireworks charging through a dense crowd spouting sparks all over the place ( you would never, I repeat never, get away with that in Holland) But before seeing the devestation in the streets next morning, the tipsy tired amnesiacs still awake and making for the Bull running. In fact, the bulls, when released with a bang and a whip seemed relatively calm. The bells on their necks ringing mildly as they stampeded through the mass of men assembled (in red and white ofcourse) newspaper in hand. They seemed quite unconcerned that everybody was making such a fuss of this. That they had ten timed the size of the humans in front of them, and were armed with large horns did not seemed to bother them, they were just running, like any cow would do in a hurd when others start running. It was mad, it was over very quickly, and that was that.
Yesterday I hitched here, to Oviedo, well, almost, Bused the last bit. and am now getting ready for the walk....

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It feels strange sometimes, that with every step on this journey I take myself further away from those that I care about, and those that love me, from security and comfort. Yet I haven't felt so alive for years! It does'nt feel like a courages thing I'm doing, this voyage, But I admire the courage of those that are willing to let me go. Those two years in the city, the maze, feel like a bad dream I`m waking up from now, as I go deeper and deeper, into the internal universe. Sure it wasn't all bad, actually it was wonderfull in it's own way. But leading me so astray from what I feel to be the core of my being. Only now, sleeping in the mountains, waking up under a tree in the park of Oviedo do I feel I have the time and peace to do, and not do, those things I feel are important to me, to life.
Thank you, Thank you all....