Selle Gal Walking in Africa

 

Few people know how to take a walk.

The qualifications are endurance, plain clothes,

old shoes, an eye for nature, 

good humor, vast curiosity,

good speech, good silence and nothing too much.

                                                            --Ralph Waldo Emerson

Something a little different today.

Something out of Africa.

Basically, you'll be seeing an assortment of photos and reading daily highlights, written by a former Selle gal and retired Washington educator who is walking the Cape Camino in South Africa.

https://www.capecamino.co.za/

Deb Lyons Shucka grew up on a dairy farm over on West Selle Road.  

She graduated from Sandpoint High School in 1969. Since retiring, she has made the most of opportunities for adventure, having walked the Camino de Santiago in Spain, the Camino de Costa Rica and now the Cape Camino in South Africa.

Last month, Deb set off by herself on this most recent pilgrimage, but, as is fairly traditional,  she has met up with other walkers along the way.

All have their own sets of reasons for going on these journeys, which last for several days.  I believe this one will be 40-plus for Deb. 

The best part, as I have already seen through my daughter Annie's three Camino de Santiago pilgrimages, is that some of these adventurers provide daily reports and pictures, allowing those of us sitting behind a computer to enjoy the experiences vicariously and with a lot less physical pain.

Debb is happy to share her experiences.  She says that if you are on Facebook, you can look her up and follow along.  Look for Deb Shucka.  

This morning's post features a couple of written entries and an assortment of representative photos lifted from several of Deb's daily postings. 

Enjoy.  

And, thank you so much, Deb, for sharing your thoughts and your lovely photos. 

You are an inspiration!

 

July 17

I leave for South Africa in a month and a half. I start walking August 30. The pilgrimage I’m about to embark upon, as pilgrimages do, has begun in so many ways already.

I don’t know if there’s anything that predicts whether a person is drawn to pilgrimage, but when I was a ten-year-old girl walking barefoot through the fields of our farm in the North Idaho summer, lonely and longing for something more, I imagined myself walking away into a new life. 

Even before, when I was five or six and incensed by some maternal deprivation, I packed clean underwear and my favorite comics, and headed to town on foot on my own. I’ll never know how far I might have gotten, because my mom came after me in the car.

Walking has always been outlet and discovery and prayer. It wasn’t until I read The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry when in my fifties that it occurred to me that I might someday walk out my door and keep going, too. And then a friend who was about to turn 50 invited me to join her on the Camino de Santiago, which I knew next to nothing about.

When I walked the Camino de Santiago four years ago, I figured it was a once in a lifetime experience. I was astonished to read about pilgrims who went back for more year after year.

 

But something happened on that Way. For the first time in my life, I felt completely alive, completely connected mind, body, spirit. For the first time in my life being myself with no cushion of makeup or background story felt right. The me I met on the Camino, at 66, was the woman I’d always hoped I might be.

Who wouldn’t want to return to the space that revealed that being and allowed her to flourish?

Plans to return were thwarted at every turn. I figured maybe it was going to be a once in a lifetime chance for me. Then I read about the Camino de Costa Rica, and felt its pull strongly. 

Covid happened, but the minute things opened up, friends invited me to join them, and off we went. A different kind of pilgrimage, it still challenged and revealed and fed my soul. I will return, hopefully in the next year.

It was March this year when I first read about Cape Camino, on Facebook, which seems to know of my love of pilgrimage. While it’s not easy to pinpoint the beginning of a pilgrimage, I think mine began when Peggy from Cape Camino said yes to a solo traveler from the U.S. 

There has been a certain flow with the preparations that assures me this adventure is an answer to a calling. The closer I get to actually walking, the more I’m finding those little miracles that are like a held hand to reassure me when the fear gets too loud.

Because as certain as I am that I’m meant to do this walk, I am also just a little terrified. It’s happened with both other pilgrimages, so the familiarity takes some of the bite out. Still, the “What are you thinking?” voice sneaks in, usually just as I’m waking up in the morning.

It’s the vulnerability of it all where the fear lives. I am getting on a plane alone, at 70, to fly halfway across the world. To Africa, a continent that from my childhood experiences through National Geographic, and my adult reading, seems a whole other planet. I will have gotten all my ducks in a row, planned and prepared as much as is possible, and then I will launch myself into the unknown.

So, when girlfriends play a particularly moving version of “Africa” by Toto, and ask deep questions about the pilgrimage, and look up dangerous animals of South Africa out of concern for my safety, it feels like they are walking with me. 

When one of my yoga teachers gifts me with a book of meditations and wishes me the best and “even more than you can imagine as you prepare for your sacred walk” I feel the presence of holiness. 

When my husband offers both support and blessing even though he’s going to be left alone for another 45 day stretch, I know how rich I am. I wear the nautilus shell necklace he gifted me with, as I wore the scallop shell he gave me the year of my Camino de Santiago.

Part of my training for this pilgrimage is hiking every week with another sister friend. Our hikes are breathtakingly beautiful, often breathtaking in a very literal way, and always deeply satisfying. This summer as we climb and stroll and descend and sweat and stop and absorb the wonder, I imagine myself in Africa on the Cape Camino.

Just as I am surrounded by the love and support of friends who won’t be there physically, I expect to make many new friends during my 42 days in South Africa. 

I also look forward to meeting the next best version of myself. As someone very wise once said, “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” I am stepping out to meet life head on.

Cape Camino

Sept. 8

Day 10

Nuwefontein Farm to Soutkloof - 16 k

It was a wonderfully strange day today.

One of my fellow pilgrims suggested last night that someone coming to Cape Camino based on my idealized vision might be disappointed. That stopped me a little. I went to bed pondering it and woke up still trying to decide if I am in fact painting a too rosy picture. So it’s no real surprise that today would give me the opportunity to check where the truth might lie.

The morning started magically. I was up in time to watch the bright orange moon set in the west as the eastern sky was just hinting at the day to come. Then Jane came looking for me to point out the Southern Cross. I saw the Southern Cross!!! A childhood dream come true. For a bonus, Orion is visible here now, only upside down.

Our walk started as they have been. Blue sky with mist in the distance, the air almost warm, wheat and sheep surrounding us. Easy country road strolling, our chaperone today on a four wheeler. We were surprised an hour and a half in to be invited in to a farmer’s kitchen for coffee and to eat our packed breakfasts.

Because it was a short walking day, we arrived at our destination late morning. This is where things tilted sideways a bit. A host had been unable to keep their commitment. Another host, Karin at Soutkloof, agreed to keep us two nights. We would be transported from our walk’s end to Karin’s, and brought back to walk the next leg to Karin’s the next day. There was a glitch in communication that resulted in our waiting for our ride for an hour and a half.

I could have seen that in a number of ways, many in a less than positive light. However, it turned out to be a gift. We relaxed in the grass with a view of a river. It was shady with a slight breeze. 

Birds were everywhere, plus we had the company of a very sweet dog and a friendly enough cat. Without discussion we all settled ourselves in for a nap. We even got to witness a swarm of bees fly over our heads.

When Karin arrived to get us, we were all in good spirits, and none the worse for the time out. Her warm welcome and easy conversation made the drive to her farm just another part of the adventure.

She and her husband are canola farmers, who also raise sheep, on land that has been in the family for generations. They joined Cape Camino recently, but you’d never know. The guest house we were meant to stay in only holds five. I got the lucky invitation to sleep in the house. 

Again, that might have felt weird, to be separated from the group. Instead I had the nicest afternoon visiting with someone I might easily be friends with if we were neighbors.

I love these farm wives who open their homes and their lives to us. I love their practicality and their warmth and their intelligence. I am in awe of their strength and stamina and tender hearts.

Today was a loadshedding day, with the power set to be out from 6:00 to after 8:00. Dinner hour. Karin planned a cold dinner and braii. When my fellow pilgrims came over for dinner, the house was lit with battery lights and candles. 

The lights came back on just as we were beginning to eat, the lamb and pork the best I’ve ever had. The salads were great and there was a sort of traditional braii sandwich that I won’t soon forget.

For me pilgrimage is an opportunity to practice letting go of expectations, and finding the hidden gifts that are easy to overlook in every day life. It’s not that I don’t see or feel the challenges of walking every day in a strange place without the comforts of home in the company of people I haven’t chosen for myself. It’s just that the joy and the magic outweigh everything else. 

Today was a perfect example of that.

Deb, on the left, with two fellow pilgrims. 

Cape Camino

Day 17

Aurora to Southern Skies - 12 k

I woke up this morning well rested and raring to go. I got myself dressed and organized for the day before going in search of coffee. Jan got up from his chair to serve me, despite my saying he didn’t need to. 

Hester came out of the kitchen and gave me the biggest hug. It was one of those benediction moments I will remember long after I’ve forgotten the discomfort of yesterday.

The table was spread with so much food: muffins, raw vegs, blueberries, breads, cheese, butter and margarine, yogurt, muesli, packets of snackie things.

Everyone gathered, Marinda our chaperone arrived, and we set out. The morning was warm enough that we all started out with fewer layers than usual. Marinda pointed out interesting landmarks along the way. A monument, old houses, tame sheep.

We are officially in the Sandveld now. We’ve walked from wheat and canola and grapes into potatoes and rooibos. The land is scrubbier but no less beautiful. We’re surrounded by craggy rocks that invite the imagination to envision ancient civilizations.

The walk was short and flat and pleasant. It got warmer than we were expecting toward the end, but chatting with Marinda who is a treasure house of knowledge made any discomfort insignificant. 

We were more spread out than usual, and quieter. The walk is winding down for many, bodies are demanding attention, and the inner space that pilgrimage creates invites more introspection.

I was a little worried about our destination for tonight, Southern Skies Guest Farm, and had prepared myself to be brave and grateful for whatever it was. We had been told no power, shared double beds, wood heat for heating a dinner delivered by Jan. A guest farm used by backpackers. It didn’t sound promising.

What we have is a stunning place with two complete bathrooms, more than enough beds (Jane and I get to share a room!), and a veranda straight out of a novel about Africa. 

The thorn trees flanking it only add to the romance of the place. There are ample places to relax and to be away from each other. The grounds are spacious with springbok grazing below. Solar power lights the place and provides Wi-Fi.

We were greeted by a lovely young woman whose name I can’t yet spell with a smile that could provide light if we had no other means. Also on the greeting committee were two resident dogs. We were served tea made with water heated on the wood stove in a giant blue pot.

Now we are all scattered about the place. Some napping. Some lying in the grass outside. Some writing. There is a great sense of ease and peace. This is an afternoon of restoration and the time and space to absorb the wonders of these last days.