Day 22 - Aurora

Monday, October 28

Sterkfontein to Aurora

18k/11mi

Windy, Rainy, Partly Sunny

 

I started the day in a strange mood, despite the fun of the day before. As I journaled, the critter who had kept me up in the night continued its manic scratching in the walls. It was raining still, the rising light revealing gray and little else. A. was supposed to return at the end of the walking day. All of the previous conversation about Cape Camino left me feeling unsettled. 

 

As is often the case when I’m off my center, reading helps me find my way. That morning, it took two books and three quotes for me to be ready to face the day with pilgrim equanimity and curiosity.

 

“To remain faithful to your life requires commitment and vision that must be constantly renewed. . . .If you try to view yourself through the lenses that others offer you, all you will see are distortions; your own light and beauty will become blurred, awkward, and ugly.” Anam Cara

 

“Because wasn’t that what art was all about, in the end? Mentally shoplifting your way through the world around you, the thoughts inside you? Looking for the thing that makes it all click. Makes it all start. Makes is all worthwhile and whole and good again. That could take a while. You might have to wander, but that didn’t mean you were lost.” No Two Persons 

 

“‘All art comes from a center,’ her professor told her. ‘A place of knowing.’ And yet, Miranda wondered sometimes, wasn’t the wind of a hurricane what had the greatest impact?” No Two Persons

 

I made my way over to the main space to find coffee and to leave Wendy’s parting gift on the table for her to find when she got up. It was my habit to leave small gifts to be found by hosts after we were gone. I liked the idea of part of the gift being the spark of delight at finding something unexpected. When I went back just before we were to leave, I discovered the gift still sitting there despite the fact that everyone was up and ready to go. I grabbed it and went back to Wendy’s room and handed it to her. She seemed uncomfortable, as she often had with anything that felt too personal, but we hugged and I told her I’d miss her.

 

 

Wickus and Izak arrived in the yard on a tractor more than half an hour after the starting time we’d agreed on. They were friendly and cheerful, and by the time we started out, the rain had lost its energy. It was windy, but except for a few sprinkles, we had a dry and pleasant walk. 

 

 

The countryside was beautiful, the sky moody and powerful. The day was highlighted with sightings of mongooses, foxes, tiny bok, and a pair of blue cranes. The walk was flat and easy. Except for some long muddy stretches that challenged us all. One foot placed carefully at a time, and even then, there were slips and falls. Shoes were in constant peril of being sucked into the thick goo. I walked with Izak for a long way with very little talking, which I enjoyed tremendously. Cynthia walked with Wendy, and the two friends walked together. 

 

 

When we stopped for a break in a small wooded area, Cynthia and I shared a branch, and the other three had their last lunch together a bit farther down. Everyone was pretty quiet during our break, possibly sad to be losing Wendy, or worried (or excited: Clare and Anna-marie) about the return of A. 

 

 

When Izak and I reached the hill overlooking Aurora, we stopped and waited for the others to catch up. The group walked into town together. Wendy’s eagerness to get to the house where her son was picking her up was palpable. Izak had promised us a coffee shop visit once we got to town. The coffee shop was closed, but we had passed another one, and wanted to go back to it. Wendy wanted to get to the house, and Cynthia wanted to go with her. So, Clare and Anna-marie and I found ourselves enjoying tea and scones (Anna-marie’s treat) at a really cute shop where we were the only customers. We sat outside, enjoying the sweet spring air.

 

 

Izak had said he’d come back for us and walk us to the house. Instead, we looked up to see a bakkie driven by Wickus, come to take Izak back to the farm. Izak told us how to get to the house and they took off. The three of us wandered through the very small town, enjoying the quirky sights (a giant bicycle, a sign for the post office (poswinkel) that made us giggle).

 

We found our way to the back of the house, so I didn’t recognize it from two years before. Hester, our host, was serving lunch to Wendy, Cynthia and her husband, Jan, on the back patio. Hester greeted me like an old friend with a huge hug. Hester and Jan were among my favorite people from the first walk. Older, dignified, consummate hosts, warm, funny, tender (him), a little salty (her).  Shortly after we arrived, Wendy’s son drove up. We all said one last goodbye and they took off. 

 

 

I sat down to enjoy a cup of Hester’s incredible lentil soup with homemade croutons. I wasn’t very hungry, but was happy for every delicious bite. Jan visited with me while I ate. Cynthia was already settled into her room, a suite with attached bathroom, and working. Hester put me in the same room I’d had before, a single with a shared bathroom. The room on the other side of the bathroom would be taken with the remaining three. 

 

As A. hadn’t arrived yet, Clare and Anna-marie decided to give her the top bunk. Clare would take the double bed and Anna-marie would take the bottom bunk. A. was quite a bit younger than the other two, than any of us with N. gone, and it seemed fair that the youngest would get the climb.

 

 

After gathering laundry and getting it to Hester, I took a very long and hot shower, the first in a couple of days. While Cynthia worked, I sat outside and listened to Clare talk about her husband’s death. I marveled at her strength, and at her ability to tell a compelling story. When the wash was done, I went to hang it on the line outside. Hester made Jan carry the basket down the stairs for me. He called me a farm girl, because of my bare feet, without really knowing how accurate he was. 

 

I went back to the patio to enjoy the warm air and a last bit of calm before A. arrived with Anna-marie and Clare. I looked up to see a vaguely familiar face, and then realized it was Marinda, our chaperone for the next day. When we walked together before, it felt like we had known each other forever, and I was so happy to know I’d get another chance to visit with her. 

 

She suggested we leave at 6:00 the next morning because it would be an open and sunny walk. We all agreed readily, especially since the itinerary said it would be a 28k day, our longest of the pilgrimage. Marinda explained that the itinerary was mistaken, based on a previous pilgrimage with different stops than ours. We had already walked 18k of that leg on that day, which left only 10k for the day to come. It was good news, both for the easier leg, and because Redelinghuys, our destination, was going to be a relaxing and pretty place to be.

 

For some reason, Clare and Anna-marie could not accept what Marinda was saying. They kept insisting that the itinerary said 28k, and that’s what we were walking. Oddly, the itinerary was often wrong, so I’m not sure why they were married to what it said about this leg. I sat back and watched Marinda patiently and with good humor, explain the next day’s leg until they finally got it. 

 

Marinda left and A. arrived shortly after in a whirl of noise and questions and energy. The two friends greeted her happily, while Cynthia and I went downstairs to check on our laundry. The peace of the last few days was gone entirely. I couldn’t bring myself to greet A. Cynthia did say hi to her, but then went back to work.

 

I listened from the back porch as A.’s voice filled the house. One of the first things she asked was if her box of wine was there. Apparently, she’d bought the box when we were at Desert Rose, and the friends made sure it was with the luggage to be transported each day. It was about this time that I learned about the blue backpack which held their other alcohol, including wine and whiskey, that was also transported daily.  It really shouldn’t have mattered. It certainly was none of my business. But all that alcohol translated into evenings full of loud and obnoxious conversation that excluded anyone sober. And it meant slow mornings for those who indulged abundantly the night before, which did impact me. 

 

A. didn’t take to being put in the upper bunk well at all. Clare and Anna-marie weren’t budging, both close to my age, and well beyond top bunk days (that meant climbing down in the dark in the middle of the night to pee, at least once). A. eventually wore Hester down and the mattress ended up on the floor of the lounge (living room), so that became A.’s bedroom. Which meant no one could relax there after dinner or in the morning. 

 

 

Jan cooked a snoek on the braii (barbequed a bony fish that is well known in the Western Cape). Dinner was fun and delicious. Hester’s hosting skills were sharp – she made sure to ask each person at the table a question about their life, and responded to all the answers. In addition to the perfectly cooked fish, we had potato salad, green salad, the best brown bread ever (Hester had sent Jan to the bakery for it that afternoon) served with homemade marmalade. Dessert was an orange flavored green jelly (jello) with homemade custard. 

 

Everyone headed to bed right after dinner, after our offers of clean-up help were refused. I lay awake for a very long time listening to the loud voices and laughter coming from the room next door, and from the lounge. The reunion sounded happy, and inebriated. I had two more weeks ahead, to find a way to get comfortable with my situation, with my own reactions to the situation. I found myself wondering about N., wishing I’d joined her, regardless of the consequences. She had been reaching out to us, sharing pictures and stories, and it was clear, for now at least, that she was getting what she needed from her decision to separate from us. 

 

My Hafiz message for the night was slightly confusing: “Forgive especially yourself. The plates that you keep spinning over your head all the time? Let them fall to the ground.” The forgiveness part I got. But did letting the plates fall mean to join N., or to go home, or to suck it up and keep going forward without expectation? I fell asleep knowing the answer, and wishing I could claim a different one.