Note: This series has a post from Lindsay and a post from Elaine each telling their perspective on the same trip. You can check out Lindsay's Via Francigena 2018 here.
My feet swell with 15 blisters after 17 miles walking from Siena, Italy to Lucignana d’ Arabia. I took all precautions (I thought): bought the right socks, purchased all the available anti-blister gear, used a finger oxygen monitor to prevent risk after lung blood clots 6 months prior to the walk. I’m with my daughter Lindsay and friends, Liz and Brenna, another mother-daughter pair. Yet on the first day on the Via Francigena I’m crippled.
I ignore the pain as I shower and limp to dinner. Mouth-watering Italian food and a bottle of wine don’t dim disastrous feet. We have only 160 miles to Rome.
I lye face down on the bed, right knee bent so Lindsay can pierce the blisters. She plays a favorite song “Navajo Rug” by Jerry Jeff Walker to distract me. We sing along as she drains the blisters and patches them for the next day. There, fine, no problem.
I’m an optimist; in this case a Pollyanna. Up the next morning to many cups of espresso; I can do this. The hotel owner suggests we take a short cut through seven feet tall sunflowers. What a great idea. Pictures will be mesmerizing. Not so the walking, turning this way and that to avoid the tough, tortuous needles of the flowers. Through at last. My feet feel fine, and we have only 8.5 miles today to Buon Convento. My neuropathy blocks the pain.
Another shower, meal, bottle of wine, operation by Dr. Lindsay who cautions me that I’m in trouble. We try another remedy. All will be well.
I love walking long distances. This time through the Tuscany landscape of rolling hills, Cypress trees, vineyards, and friendly people let my heart sing. Towns from the middle ages welcome us to another era. Colorful Autumn rituals celebrate communities and teach us histories of the towns. Rest days allow sore muscles to mend bit and stinky clothes to be washed.
The core of the trip is the multi-dimensional daughter-mother bond. Lindsay and I travel well together. She has qualities that make any trip fun and sparked with insight. Plus, she’s a good blister breaker. We walk along and climb a steep hill. I’m trudging; she’s singing songs I love to keep me going. We’re headed to a town on a hill that looks like Camelot. We stop and record “A law was made a distant moon ago here…in Camelot.” We’ll post this for the whole world to enjoy.
We sometimes walk alone; sometimes in different pairs—mother/mother, daughter/daughter, and the other mother/daughter. We learn each other’s histories, joys, sorrows, and challenges. At time, two mothers watch and admire daughters laughing and bounding along as we experience the augers of age, loving our phase of life as well. Long walks afford the time to live every stage of life: the brightness of a new day, the joy of beauty, the feeling of ‘we can do this,’ the tiredness in the hot afternoon, and the drudgery of the last few miles. Every day captures a lifetime, over and over.
One of my strengths is my resilience and persistence, believing that I can fix most anything. Well, my feet don’t agree: they’re yelling ‘stop.’ I finally have to cry ‘uncle’ and find a ride to our next inn. We ask the B&B owner to get us a cab. “What? There are no cabs here.” “An Uber, Lyft?” She asked, “What?” Uh oh. Now what? She said, “Wait, the owner of the villa you will be in tonight comes grocery shopping today.” She called and we met him at a bar across town. I love the creativity of travel.
Instead of walking 8 hours we arrive at a 400- year-old villa in 20 minutes. Good choice. After more blister popping, a fantastic meal, and more espresso the next morning, we walk all day to Radiconfani. I think I’m ok. Oops, blisters are copulating.
I walk every other day, as far as Viterbo, about half the trip. Time to reflect on this trip.
We shared expectations at dinner in Siena before our start. I want “to make it, have time with each other, ask for and give help, learn, celebrate.” Done. Our last day together in Viterbo revealed a deeper level. We visited an Etruscan museum learning about the predecessors of the Romans. In an extension of the museum, Brenna stumbled onto an intact altar to Demeter and Persephone. Mothers and daughters pull aside a curtain and stand in the presence of the most famous pair. The myth tell us: mothers protect their daughters; grieve for their loss, search tirelessly for them, turn the earth barren until she returns, and finally have to agree that her daughter will be gone half the year. In those days, the earth will be fallow until spring and her daughter returns.
In terms of my growth:
“Your soul knows the geography of your destiny and the map of your future. Trust this side of yourself. It will take you where you need to go but it will also teach you a kindness of rhythm in your journey.” (Anam Cara, Book of Celtic Wisdom.) I’ve learned what I came to learn—follow the wisdom of my body and soul.
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