I’m sitting on the balcony of a little café in Pau, France, sipping an overly sweet iced tea. It was that or a coffee and I try to live by the rule of never drinking caffeine after 4pm. I don’t usually succeed, but this one of those cases where I actually managed to stick to a self-imposed rule, although it was more because of a deep craving for iced tea than anything else. And in hindsight, upon tasting the amount of sugar in my iced tea for the first time, I honestly feel like getting the coffee would have been the healthier option here.
The cafe itself is situated beautifully, right on the edge of the city. Across the valley, covered by mist and low clouds, the Pyrenees loom. It’s an ashtonishing yet daunting sight. I’ll walk across those mountains in the coming weeks. Cross through the Pyrenees towards Jaca, then veer to the right and head towards the west coast of Spain. Towards Santiago de Compostella.
Truth be told, I’m terrified. The past year, I’ve read so many books, followed so many blogs, looked up so many things on the almighty Internet and still I’m here, looking at those mountains and the feeling of panic is almost immediate. If I let myself think too much about it, it all becomes impossible in my head. I imagine the map of West-Europe and try not to scream because I don’t think I’m able to do this.
So, I have found the perfect solution and it’s called, stop thinking. Aren’t I a little genius. Contrary to popular belief though, it actually works this time. If you ever need a way to stop thinking, I can guarantee that hiking a small 1000km will do the trick. You can overthink it all you want, but the second you try to imagine what it’ll be like your brain will just short-circuit and fry itself.
The only plans I have right now are:
- the first six ettapes I’m assuming I will hike, from Pau to Col du Somport – 93,86km. (Note the use of the word ‘assuming’ here: I am referring to the fried-brain situation. I honestly have no clue about the how and where and what. I merely made some etappes to grant myself the illusion of control.)
- you might realise at this point that this isn’t really a plan, but don’t tell my brain that. It happily latched on to that created illusion.
- my plans for tonight and tomorrow: I will get dinner, make sure my bag is all packed, and set an alarm for 7 in the morning so that I can catch an early bus to my starting point. And then I’ll hike.
My iced tea is almost finished now, and my panic has settled somewhat. I look at the mountains again, and when I breathe in deeply I feel a different emotion stirring inside of me. Eagerness and curiosity, wrapped up with excitement and a deep sense of faith. I don’t know what it’ll be like. Chances are I’ll cry a lot and laugh a lot and probably also curse a lot (I know myself). But I hope I’ll learn a lot too. About the world, and about life and the future. But mostly about myself.
P.s. an hour after reading this I was still sitting at the cafe and, feeling awkward because myiced tea was long gone and I hadn’t ordered anything else, I ordered an iced coffee. Mission failed.
