The Beginning
Two ways out of town…
Outside of St. Jean-Pied-de-Port, a small town nestled on the border of the Pyrenees, the path toward Santiago begins. At first, for one unfamiliar with the way and wheeling with the excitement of the beginning journey, the road is confusing. But by following the waypoints, posted maps (vandalized or not), and other fellow pilgrims, the course soon becomes clear.
Beautiful wooded pastures surround you.
A beautiful way through the wooded farmland opens up. You are surrounded by shady lanes that open up to fertile pastures. Small country roads meander off, but the road is mostly obvious and straightforward. Ahead, are the dots of fellow travelers moving in the same direction; behind, are the faces of those filled with the same expectation you feel. The cool, breezy morning air of a sunrise-just-past fills your lungs and mind with joy. The day and the journey lie before you with all the possibility of a new life beginning.
Then, you see the rise unfold before you as a small hill, another rolling knoll in a countryside of green. The road meanders across it, not straight but moving right and then swinging left toward the top. It is nothing to think twice about. An easily surpassable obstacle on the way toward the Pyrenees and more challenging climbs.
But halfway up you realize, glancing back amidst heaving breaths and already aching legs, the climb through the Pyrenees has already begun. When did that happen? How did you fail to notice that you were already moving amidst mountains?
The climb has already begun.
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