How a Community Came Together for One Woman’s Camino Journey

A little over four months ago our daughter, Tessa was busily planning a trip with her Catholic youth group to Jerusalem, Portugal, and Rome. She was devastated when the group ruled her ‘ineligible’ to take part ‘due to the liability presented by her disability’.

We were stunned that they viewed Tessa’s challenges this way instead of seeing her differing abilities as an opportunity for others around her to deepen and broaden their own experience.

Scheduled for the same time; Susan and I had been planning to walk the ‘way of St James’, usually expressed by its colloquial name, ‘the Camino’, as our big post COVID trip.

“Come to Spain when we do our Camino journey. You can do yours too. It’ll be more fun than tourist buses anyway,” we suggested to Tessa.

“Better still, you’ll get a chance to reconnect with new people after the isolation of the last couple of years.”

Tessa didn’t hesitate and so I then began some frantic research on the equipment and assistance we would need as well as the preparation we would need to make.

We got advice from the few people who had attempted parts of the Camino in a manual wheelchair (thanks Andrew Dunning).

Very few had ever completed the 779km traditional Route de Frances from France, over the Pyrenees, across the Meseta, to Santiago de Compostela in such a chair.

Finally we ordered a ‘hike ready’ Grit Spartan chair from the States and got it bumped up the priority list.

We then researched, trialed, tested and retested belts, ropes, bungee cords, cushions and spares.

We trained in our local Voyage gym and the Gippsland hills close to home.

We agreed that it may be a bit of a big task for Susan, Tessa, and myself but if we could get the right type and amount of supports in place then Tessa should be able to complete her own ‘Camino’ with us.

Fortunately we were able to connect with ‘Project Kick It’ and one of their founders, Kristian, who has a wealth of experience ‘making it happen’ for young people with a disability. I think in the end we may have conned this extraordinary young man to just ‘come for a walk in Spain’

His experience along with an abiding commitment to do what he can do assist ‘legends’ achieve their dreams would be an essential part of our Caminos. His generosity would help make Tessa’s dream a reality.

We booked all kinds of accommodation – dorms to smaller semi private rooms – for an eventual 34 day 800km Pilgrimage. Our local travel agent; Kerrin Poupos worked in with us to get us (and the chair) there safely and undamaged. She had some great advice on the value of various carriers.

I had done an exhaustive amount of research about the challenges which would face the GRIT chair on the ancient pilgrim’s route through mainly rural Spain but, at the end of the day, you can only plan for so much.

After all the preparation and planning you have to leave it to fate, the elements, and the environment around you.

In the end the elements, environment and fate proved to be committed to showing off their extremes.

But it became obvious early on that the Camino community and the people who make up that community were all on our side.

I had always intended to do ‘The Way’ since seeing the eponymous Emilio Estevez and Martin Sheen film ten years previously. The movie explained the pilgrimage through the adventures of a group of strangers who found a time and a place where they could help one another on their journey.

It was the theme of individuals coming together as a community which most attracted me to the film and subsequently the ‘Camino’.

Late September a series of planes, trains and automobiles over 36 hours finally delivered us to St Jean Pied de Port in South West France.

Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port is an ancient town nestled in the lush but rugged Pyrenean foothills. Long the favourite departure point of the Camino Frances, it is proudly Basque in history and culture. Like the vast a majority of pilgrims on the way, or ‘peregrinos’ as they are known, we arrived at St Jean in the French Pyrenees with our own personal objectives but all with a singular aim – to complete our journey and arrive – in 800km and 34 days – in Santiago de Compostela.

The steep climb along the cobblestone path from the village’s train station to the Pilgrims’ Information Office gives a stark hint of the paths which were to follow in days to come.

But the queue out the building’s door and down the street provided us a more salient lesson. – On seeing our gear and Tessa’s wheelchair, all the prospective peregrino moved back motioning us to take a place at the front. This placed us inside the office where all those waiting again swapped positions, insisting we take theirs. I was loving the Camino and we were yet to take our first official step.

The first day out of St Jean sees a tide of peregrino climbing the tarmac road from St Jean and headed up and over the Pyrenees. Almost a hundred peregrino will leave the village that day.

We were harnessed to the chair; Susan and Christian pulling elasticated bungees with myself pushing from behind. Tessa was able to push the GRIT’S unique levers which added her own impetus to the total people power.

As the road got steeper other peregrinos began to ask if they, too, could take one of the handles and double the rear power. I accepted their offer and had a rotating crew of English, Croatian and Korean people successively subbing in beside me. As the rise in the road shallowed we were left to manage on our own.

At our ‘lunch’ stop at Orisson we encountered our first enquiries about the chair and our intentions as well as the first of what would become many dozens of offers to ‘help out if you ever need it’. It would have been easy to dismiss these offers but as our journey continued the offers continued unabated and were always delivered whenever called upon.

At times fellow travelers were simply offering the addition of some ‘muscle’ to keep the chair straight on a trail-turned-gutter or to lift a pack if we had needed to momentarily lighten the load.

Our, “Gracias. Buen Camino”, would always be met with

“No, no, thank you, peregrino”.

At some stage toward the end of our first week we were joined by Celine, the beautiful and gritty young South African/Italian woman and a day or two later Willie, a quintessential Irish farmer who were the first to ‘adopt’ our little band for an extended period. Celine and Willie had initially helped out on some tricky paths and then decided to stay on with our team. They were forward enough to suggest that they give one or other of us a breather thereby expanding their assistance to ‘team member’ status.

We were neither too silly nor too proud to accept these offers and so some of our nagging injuries would get an hours respite during the day. At the same time we would learn more about the unique lives of those who made up our fellow peregrino.

As our apparent infamy on the Way increased we were welcomed at rest stops, cafes, albergues, hostels, hotels and inns. Tessa and her chair were far from the liability that some had suggested. Her challenges and unique circumstance seemed to be a welcome sign and then a matter of pride to all those who helped us along the way.

Young people, in particular, were less shy and a few of an interchanging crew were seemingly always there when an extra push was required or later in the day when our spirits may have begun to lag. Pulling, pushing, steering, lifting (chair and spirits), chatting, and encouraging Tessa and the rest of us.

We had actually trained for months before our trip.

We had climbed up and over the Pyrenees in the first days with assistance only during the steeper climbs.

We did most of the ‘hard yards’ in the initial stages as our original group so we knew we could make the whole journey without relying too much on others if needs be. – But to become a part of so many others’ Camino was something special.

And whenever we dared to thank any of them the reply was uniform;

“No, Thank you and Tessa for letting us be a part of your Camino”.

Little wonder that more than 30 members of ‘Team Tessa’ gathered for dinner in Santiago de Compostela 3 nights after we completed the pilgrimage. – Others had already left to go back home.

Mostly I was forced into a wide grin when these groups pushed me aside to take charge of Tessa’s journey although, once relieved of my ‘beast of burden’ duties I could just walk along, sometimes a little apart from the crowd, soaking up the generosity of others.

There were a couple of times when the good I felt was particularly overwhelming.

All encompassing.

There may have been an element of tiredness and recognition that we were much closer to the end of our Camino than we were to the start which heightened my emotions. Or maybe a realisation that in that fateful October the only world news which had permeated our travelling community spoke of man’s incalculable capacity to visit inhumanity upon one another elsewhere. While, in contrast, we found a reason to be optimistic about the future in the hands of young people and only good from members of dozens of nationalities and beliefs.

The first time was the famous (among peregrino) climb to the Croix de Ferro, The Iron cross, the highest point of the Camino and what – on that day – was to become a subsequent treacherous descent. The plan was always to try to get to the famous Cross for sunrise and take some time for each of the peregrino to deposit their rock, collected for the purpose, and take in one of the singular landmarks of the Way.

But it wasn’t to be.

We’d left Foncebadon in the dark.

A number of our friends were gathered to meet us in the dark, wet, cold, wind swept, morning as we left our hostel.

The road was ice cold and the rain which had been falling all night was now driven by a vicious horizontal wind. We were forced onto the main road as the adjacent walking tracks had transformed into cascades.

After a little while the crew relieved me of my sled dog role and banished me to be the lollipop bloke with light and flouro a few dozen metres ahead; warning oncoming traffic of the approaching menagerie. In my place were Scott, the poetry reciting NSW vet, the Netherland’s own amazon, Iris, both pulling, with Kristian pushing and steering and several others surrounding Tessa shielding her from the worst of the weather and ready to step in should the need arise.

It was grim.

It was bitter.

But the mood in the team was unmistakable.

They were all determined to get over the pass and down into safer(and drier) climes of the village of Acebo as soon as they could but in the interim there would be the odd song, loud stories, and numerous jokes. It seemed they all understood that their mood that was the only variable on that morning they could control. Their journey that morning would become part of their own Camino folklore. It was one of the hardest stages we had encountered on the Camino but, in the end, we all stumbled into the cafe at the entry to town to dry off, eat, drink, scoff Dutch botercoek, congratulate ourselves, laugh a little and plan the rest of the day.

The second occasion was on one of the last warmer days we had on the camino. That morning we four left the village of Villafranca del Bierzo through a 400m tunnel facing a 28km day. It consisted of a 20km wander along a river valley to be followed by couple of thousand feet climb in the subsequent 8km. We had less than 200km and a week to Santiago and everything seemed to be achievable so we were steeled for the days’ walk. We hadn’t made any arrangements to catch up with any of our larger crew and had left a little bit later than usual in the morning – in daylight as the weather was forecast to be mild.

As we began to emerge from the tunnel we were met by a group of grinning youngsters (18yo – 35yo) who claimed in any one of five languages that they ‘just happened to be there getting ready for the rest of the day,’ but they then decided to accompany us ‘as long as we are all here’. And they were, of course, only too happy to relieve me of my haulage obligations. Of course. I had long since lost my feeling that I was some modern day Tom Sawyer charged with whitewashing the fence and so moved on.

I went off ahead on my own for a while listening to the variety of accents, tones and rhythms dictating the joking, singing and laughter behind me which often accompanied these days. The banter and the skylarking had become a part of the soundtrack to my Camino and I felt an overwhelming sense of admiration and gratitude toward these young people and Tessa. They were all experiencing a Camino that none of them had expected and they were obviously the happier for it. It was one of the last partially warm days on our Camino. They stayed with us for the first dozen kilometres and then most went off on an alternative ‘scenic’ route which had good scores in most of the guide books. We were unsurprised later, though, to see them rejoin us at lunch for the ‘hard yards’, taking over most of the climb.

And then there was the wonderful day Willie, the exuberant Irishman and the rugged South African, Celine, returned. These two had been our first ‘fellow travellers’.

They had both originally intended to walk part of the Camino over two weeks or so and return to complete the journey in subsequent years.

We found when we arrived on the Camino that this was a common practice for Europeans who may be unable to set aside 4 – 5 weeks to complete the 800km journey in one go. Besides, Willie had a herd to test for TB and Celine had a wedding to attend in South Africa before returning to get stuff done in her home in London.

Our quest had got into their bones, however, and over time both had resolved to get their stuff done and return to cover the last few days with us and share our final stage into Santiago de Compostela.

I’m not sure exactly where we were. The weather had eased up as had our pace in recognition of our reluctance to finish the Way. We had proven we were unstoppable and so we could slow down and smell the eucalyptus which was now a common part of the landscape. I took to scrunching up leaves and made sure everyone had a handful to ‘clear the air.’ Having been once again ousted from my position on the chair I spent a lot of time walking alone or with Susan. There were times we looked back to see Tessa and Kristian surrounded by Willie, Celine, Iris, Zach and Lucas – our most ardent and constant supporters- all taking a leisurely stroll through sun dappled lanes in Spain.

There were those increasingly common times, too, when a table for four for a quick dinner turned into 10 then 20 even 30. All close personal friends in a country where I once knew no one. Susan and I would just look across and up the table at one another and listen to the languages and laughter. We were all meant to be here.

I may have to beg forgiveness for being a little selfish view but at that moment in that place all was right with my world.

THE HAULERS

These and a few more took some time on the various levers, ropes, and handles of the chair to assist Tessa propel herself to Santiago. The first of many – Uri and Ann from Slovakia via Manchester, Willie, the rambunctious Irish farmer, the South African Wonder Woman, Celine; the Dutch Amazonian, Iris; the unstoppable ‘back-of-Burke’ vets, Scott, Kylie and their family, & friends, ‘Aussie’ Jess Newton, the US contingent of Zach, Stevie, David, Guy, Michael, Matt, Anil & Michael the triplet, Canadian Dee. The ageless Dane; Joachim, Steven the joke collecting, umbrella carrying, Londoner, Lucas – the apprentice Aussie from Columbia, Sally – the brown eyed girl from our hometown and Holmfirth’s Bob and Ruth who couldn’t resist as they were ‘in Spain and thought they might drop by’.

THE LIFTERS

There are many others – too numerous to name but I’ll give it a try. They may not have pulled or pushed the chair but they lifted us up and cared for our – sometimes flagging – spirits. Importantly kiwi Andrew for his invaluable advice and guidance during our planning stage and after, Kerrin, our travel agent, who made sure we and our chair got to St Jean in the first place, Aussies – the Castlemaine girls, Donna and Annie, their Bendigo ‘cousins’ – Abi and Rachel and as well as ‘Lone Star’ Lou, always Sarah, ’Katherine’s’ Jackie & Maddie of Melbourne, and Bjorn, the quiet Swede. The ‘loud (is there any other kind?) Italians’ – Pedro, Vincenzo & Demetri, My Irish dancing partner; Deidre, stoicism personified in Swedish Maria and her companions Cecilia (you’re breaking my heart) and the reluctant religious translator, Nuno, Keith and the misnamed ‘Davidson’ – the wise counsellors from US and their countryfolk; Chris, Erin, Theresa and Joy, and Vedika(who met us again in her spiritual home of Madrid), the beautiful and ever caring French; Etienne and Annie, Fran – who did come back bringing the staff – a gift from the Scots; Brian and Lindsay, Simonija from Lithuania and Croatia’s Kata, and the Canadians, Jacqui, and Scott who were never too far away. Patrick Ryan from ‘where-else?’, Meaghan, Igor & family, Baby Jacob and his beautiful parents Anna and a Chris who met on the Camino, The generous ‘Spanish Sydneysiders’ – Oscar and Marie, Mike and the dedicated four Mancunians who took time out of their fundraising to give us a kick along and Burwash Mary. And who could forget (certainly not Kristian) our favourite Basque native; Marceliano. Every one of them saw in Tessa what had evaded those organising her first holiday option.

There are more stories to tell about our Camino and theirs. Maybe soon.

Written by – The OG Camino

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Note from the editor – a huge thank you to ‘The OG Camino’ for sharing your incredible story. The more I read, the more questions I have and the more I need to know. I can completely understand how so many people were swept up by your Camino and wanted to be a part of it.

For lots more videos, photos and stories you can visit The OG Camino Facebook page.