So(ul)journ!

If Porto was our prelude to our Camino walk, then North Yorkshire shall be our postlude. When our flight touched down in London, I was relieved that the airline had a policy of releasing passengers by rows of five. Nevertheless, folks attempted to crowd the aisle and push forward, and once disembarked from the plane, they all began a sprint through the airport. It was the harsh reality of returning from our time away. Jacki and I took our time and made it comfortably through passport control. Our bags were waiting for us on the luggage carousel, and we met our St Pancras train with minutes to spare.

Our last eight days were consumed by the Camino. Most of our vacations are spent in places we explore that involve some period of “travel time.” Travel time is mostly viewed as a necessary evil to having a good time—being with family, resting, and renewing. When kids are small, travel time is full of the perpetual questions of some ilk and variety of “Are we there yet?” When one walks the Camino, the “travel time” becomes your focus. The path, initially measured in days, steps, and kilometers completed, truly consumes all our energy. Each late afternoon, we’d arrive at the hotel stops along the way, often showering, collapsing, and napping only to get up in the late evening and hobble to a place for dinner. Initially, I felt like we were missing the sights in each of the individual cities and towns, and after several days, I let go of that regret. We came to experience the Camino; the reason for this time apart was the walk, the path, and the journey from our start in Baiona to the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. It’s not that we didn’t see anything along the way; I have loads of photos of what we saw and experienced. The Camino and our participation in it embodied an eventual reality: that our travel time truly is the destination.

All the rushing we observed in London’s Gatwick Airport was a bit shocking—almost laughably-so, Monty Python-funny, as people did silly quick walking to get to whatever it was they needed to get to. So much pent-up, misdirected energy. Was this a reality we wanted to re-engage with? Fortunately, we had another week visiting our daughter’s family in North Yorkshire—our next destination and our postlude to our Camino.

North Yorkshire is a surprising gem of the British Isles. I’m a bit biased; we lived there for nearly five years back in the ’80s. It’s perhaps made famous by the veterinarian/author James Herriot and his book series turned PBS series titled All Creatures Great and Small. The area has unbounding beauty in its fields, moors, and dales, best experienced through the winding, stone-fenced roads and lanes. The area is filled with creatively named villages and towns. We traveled from Harrogate train station through Killinghall, skirted Ripley (which has a castle up for sale), and barreled through Bedlam to arrive at our daughter’s village of Burnt Yates. There, Brittany, her husband Dan, and our two grandsons live with their dog Sadie in a farmhouse made of the local stone. The next week, we got to be grandparents, doing fun things like picking up our eldest grandson from school a couple of times or watching over his one-year-old brother while Brit volunteered at the local Artisan shop (which specializes in fair trade and ethically made products and whose mission is to equip and empower people with disabilities to meet their full potential). We ambled our way around Harrogate Valley Garden, which sports a cool playground for kids and a quaint tea and coffee room with lots of good food to warm and sate the sweet or savory cravings of most.

We visited a variety of pubs for lunch or dinners, made our own for family nights, and enjoyed several village cafés, including Betty’s in Harrogate. And we took walks as well. Not nearly the length of our Camino, but we still managed to return to my average of ten to twelve thousand steps. We were able to attend both boys’ birthday celebrations—a feat that Jacki would like to repeat from year to year.

We visited the town of Grassington, which doubles as the set for James Herriot’s Darrowby. Point of fact: Darrowby was made up to protect the true location of the veterinary surgery where James Herriot actually worked; for that, you will have to visit the town of Thirsk (also in North Yorkshire). I reckon one could create an entire pilgrimage to All Creatures Great and Small and spend a week traveling to each of the sites there and in between.

We participated in a trip to the local pumpkin patch, where a local photographer met us for the annual family photo shoot. As grandparents, we even got included in a couple of shots. Since we couldn’t be present for Halloween this year, we sacrificed one of the pumpkins early, and my grandson carved his first pumpkin. Too cool!

We often visit Fountains or Bolton Abbey, but this go-around it wasn’t in the cards. As our last full day proved to be a bright and clear morning, we visited Brimham Rocks. We’ve been here loads of times during all seasons, and Monday was looking like it was going to provide some absolutely splendid panoramic views of the Nidderdale Valley area. Now, I know folks like to use filters on their photos, and I will just say that none of these photos are modified in any way. The beauty of the light and the bright greens of the moss and grasses are all really that vibrant. If you pause, it’s so quiet. The peaty ground underfoot cushions your steps as you walk along. I’m including a photo of a poet in residence that attempts to capture the area.

Our postlude in North Yorkshire was truly God-sent and a reflective time to process all that had gone before us on our journey, to enjoy family with no time agenda, and it provided a picture of what being a grandparent is like when you have your little ones accessible. Our journey homeward was harder than most. Life in North Yorkshire is to be desired or at least is influential as we return.

Our traveling time home brought us through Iceland. We didn’t plan this return very well, as the airline we traveled with permits you to split your return connection so that you can stay and visit Iceland, the land with unpronounceable sites and city names. Jack and I have committed to taking advantage of this in our next trip to England. Already, we’re making plans for another trip…

I’m curious how you spent your time apart this past summer. What are your takeaways? How has that influenced you? And what are you carrying with you as you move forward on your journey through life?