Reflections on my pilgrimage

Two months after completing the journey, and having had time and space to digest the whole experience, some reflections. Since one of the aims of writing this blog was to help future pilgrims, I've prepared this and an accompanying post with tips on what to think about in planning.

Thinking about the reasons why I took this on in the first place: I watched a documentary about Z-list celebrities doing a few stages, and thought it looked amazing; a journey on foot through lesser-known parts of medieval Italy along an ancient way, and an opportunity to acquaint myself with Italy, which I barely knew. For a keen walker, it offered an interesting and different kind of challenge; I'd barely done any long-distance path walking before (a few days along Offa's Dyke path), and wasn't even sure if I'd have the resilience to keep going. Might doing it for charity keep me going? There were so many unknowns; the language, the culture, the accommodation, the transport, my fitness, the equipment needed.

Racking up the kilometres in the UK, gradually building up my mental and physical stamina increasingly absorbed my focus. At the start, my mental stamina was not great; aged 58 I simply didn't believe that I could walk more than about 9 miles or 14km. Now, aged 61, that's a stroll in the park for me, and at the end of my training in spring 2022, I was managing nearly 30km/18 miles, several times a week. That's a level of fitness and a range that was unimaginable in 2019, and even if now I certainly wouldn't undertake that sort of distance lightly, at least I know I have the capability within me. Also, the notion of walking long distances, back-to-back over several days seemed impossible then, but now is normal, even if I have learnt to take a rest day after 4 days' solid walking. So, I've learnt a great deal about how my body works, what it will tolerate, and how much I can push it, even at my advanced age.

I undertook to raise £1004, a pound for every kilometre, which I have done, but I did not anticipate that it would probably cost me about 4 times that in travel, accommodation, food and other expenses by the time I'd finished. Undoubtedly it would have been cheaper if I had stayed in pilgrim hostels and were not vegetarian.

What about the spiritual side? This was really low on my agenda at the start, and I can report no Damascene moments. I am solitary and independent by nature, so the time alone with my thoughts was valuable, and allowed me to experiment with focusing on different sensory inputs; sounds, smells, colours, light. Walking does induce a kind of trance state, and there is definitely something compelling about constantly moving forward, which others describe as the energy of the path, but I feel as a more physical, or psychological, perhaps even atavistic, compulsion to keep on moving, nomadically. The only time I felt anything close to an altered state of consciousness other than my usual walking trance, was in the Apennines, in those magical, secret, wooded hills and valleys, on winding, sun-dappled paths, rising and falling, crossing streams and passing through tiny tree-ringed villages with terraced vineyards and olive groves, glimpsing other villages peeping out of the trees on the other side of the valley and hearing other bells ring out the hours. There was a deep sense of peace and benign elemental power there. At the end of the journey, in St Peter's Basilica in Rome, you might have expected me to feel something religious, but all I felt was some slight irritation at the perfunctory welcome for a weary pilgrim, a swirling jet of conflicting emotions, and some considerable awe at the overwhelming grandeur of the place.

My studies of religions have given me an understanding of what people generally mean when talking about faith and belief, even though I cannot myself identify such a space within me needing filling in what might be deemed a religious way, but that understanding has not changed or become more personal as a result of my pilgrimage. Interestingly, I am quite comfortable with the notion of my journey as a pilgrimage, because of the link which became gradually more pertinent as it progressed with the stories of those in whose memory I was undertaking the fundraising component, particularly with the deaths of three of them which occurred during the time I was walking. There were a few occasions when I wanted to throw in the towel, but it was certainly these people's stories which kept me on the path, and I suppose having a reason for completing a journey from A to B of this sort does make it a pilgrimage.

The solitude did induce a tendency to voice my thoughts out loud, while walking, however, and to talk to my equipment, the wildlife I encountered and sometimes those responsible for providing (or more accurately not providing) accurate signage or comfortable walking space; gravel paths, unnecessary detours, and long stretches along busy roads. Sometimes there was a lot of swearing, sometimes even tears.

I feel very strongly about the poor provision of toilet facilities for women on some of the stages, notably in the risaio, where squatting in a mosquito-filled ditch within sight of a farm or field worker was often the only option. If I ever win the Euro-millions lottery, a specific donation to remedy that would be high on the list. It is possible to become obsessed with finding a clean loo, but when you are drinking as much water as you need to drink in very hot conditions, it is essential. This may help to explain the inclusion of more information on unexpected loos than some readers may need in my daily musings.

In terms of my learning about Italy, its people, history, language, customs and food, I certainly feel very well acquainted now. I am even on fairly good speaking terms with it, having learnt enough Italian to hold an interesting conversation for an hour or so, and exchanged information and views with many interesting and diverse people along the way. The linguistic experience has been lovely. The great warmth and kindness of pretty much every Italian I met on the way has left a lasting and affectionate impression of the country, and I was fortunate to meet one or two exceptionally special people, who I will always remember. I have seen some of the great architecture (Siena and Rome on the Via, Milan in passing through) of the country and enjoyed a sense of the history of the many peoples whose architecture across so much time is so visible all along the Via. I have also passed through, and sometimes been able to spend a brief day or two in some fabulous, lesser-known hamlets and settlements, and to experience some of the quotidian life outside the major tourist spots. I certainly have a list of off-the-beaten-track spots I would happily revisit to spend more time in.

I'm happy feeding myself and travelling in Italy, I have learnt some of the noises and gestures which are normal there, but strange to foreigners, and I know the (sometimes hugely important) difference between a cornetto and a cornuto, between canelo and canolli.

Although it's not easy to define all of the many ways in which the experience has changed, enriched and educated me, it was both challenging and rewarding. I don't regret having done it for a moment. I am a more resilient, calmer and more confident person than I was before I began. Readjusting to life after the Via has been interesting; there is no goal, nothing to plan, and no need to keep moving. So while the not having is a kind of relief, there's also a space for other less exciting things such as spending time at home and walking when and where and for how far I feel like. The compulsion to move and achieve which has driven me along the Via over the past three years is no longer there, but I do not feel a need to replace it.

People keep asking me what I will do next. The answer is there isn't anything I have in mind, so please don't ask, and certainly don't suggest anything! Would I do it again? No, although I would do parts of it, but not for a while. Would I recommend it to anyone? If you are prepared to put in the hours of preparation and planning, certainly and without reservation – your life will be the richer for it.

Finally, it was lovely having the companionship of you, the reader, along the way, being conscious of your interest during the day and gathering observations and incidents to share with you as I walked. Thank you.