Pilgrim Letter #4: Retiring robot mode.
Sul, Norway. Day: 21. Kilometer: 390.
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My fortitude battery was running low.
Rain-soaked feet, a run-in with a herd of surprisingly intimidating cows, and a low-voltage zap from an electric fence had worn me down.
When I connected to wifi and saw more rain in the forecast, I almost cried. Not just because I was cold and tired, but because the trail was losing its magic. The days had started to blur together. I was less and less excited about the landscape unfolding before my eyes and more focused on just getting to my next bed. Ugh, this pilgrimage was starting to feel like work.
So when I walked into Åre, Sweden’s (tiny!) version of Vail, to find my 18th lodging in as many days, I noticed all the taxis lined up outside the hotel. Hmmmmm. Maybe it was time to shake things up.
In the morning I whatsapped Ruben, my travel planner and freak-out calmer who knows everyone and everything on this trail.
“What do you think if I took a taxi to the next town and cut some time off my journey today?”
“I think it’s a great idea. Today’s route is pretty but it’s mostly tarmac. In fact, do you just want to ride with your luggage the whole way to your next lodging?”
My teeth unclenched, my shoulders relaxed. I knew it was the right decision.
“Claus will be there in 15 minutes!” Ruben’s gray text bubble promised.
“I’ll be waiting!”
And there I was, on the curb of the hotel when Claus and his gray Volkswagen van pulled around. I took shotgun. We began chatting right away. About his time in Switzerland. His visit to my favorite town in the Colorado Rockies in 2015. Why it's so hard for Americans to get the Swedish accent right. Then we picked up his girlfriend Malin and headed to his family’s concession at Tännforsen, the biggest waterfall in Sweden.
I snuggled into the little cafe where Malin runs the show, and when she sat down to join me, I had my questions ready.
“Let’s talk Fika! What is it? What time of day do you have it? Does it exist outside of Sweden?”
”I can’t really define it, but it’s more than coffee… it’s getting together to connect, to really see each other. In my grandparents' day, they did it several times a day. It’s a ritual. We thought it existed everywhere, it’s such a part of our lives.”
As much as I tried to deny it in my younger years, I am energized by Fika-like connection. I don’t need it constantly — right now my ideal ratio is probably 80% alone to 20% with others — but without it, life loses its shimmer. I look over the rolling hills of Sweden and just see all the kilometers I have to walk, instead of the giant pine in front of me with the bird’s nest tucked halfway up its trunk. My mind takes control, planning and executing an efficient path from point A to point B, while my heart and its depths are treated as distraction. My inner world shifts to calculation and critique, flattening my human experience into robotic goal chasing.
Old Sue would have been HORRIFIED by the thought of skipping 20 kilometers. “How can I say I’ve walked St Olav’s Way when I’ve skipped a day??” But I’m not here to ‘prove’ myself. If I need to take a day off to have Fika not once but twice, to trade robot mode for long-meandering conversations, and to remember why I’m actually here, that’s a day very well spent.
The body may be made to walk. But the soul needs more — reminders of its humanity and all the incredible things that come with it: connection, novelty, a hot cappuccino on a rainy day. Then the body can go on doing its thing.
Recharged,
P.S. Here are some of our favorite previous posts about connection and community:
#26: Wired to share (despite what our culture tells us). Seeking sanity between evolutionary instinct and modern impulse.
#36: The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. Harnessing the power of shared purpose to ignite your projects and passions.
#50: Widowed yet surrounded by love. Learning to let your life evolve after loss.
#67: The puzzle of creating community as an adult. Embracing different but good.
#80: Human connection, the easy way. My greatest learning from widowhood.
Sue......
Remind me,....."Why are you actually there??"
Don Leedy, West Chester, OH
It was nice to meeting you on the trail. Have a happy trail and Buen Camino.