Did I just write closure is an integral part of life? Haha, well, I’m not very good at it at all apparently. But here goes some sort of wrap-up. Three hundred and sixty-eight days ago, I set out on a long walk. The reasons for it are not clear. Not clear at all.
There was this build-up scenario which I sometimes tell people. One of me jumping between European cities – not knowing where to go – then arriving in an apartment in a late-winter Oslo, feeling sorry for myself. Then there is that whole ”I’m just a poor a lonesome cowboy” – idea – me looking for freedom. Poor impulse-control. stubbornness. Lack of better things to do.
A very anarchistic personality and a tiredness stemming from this way too delusional world we live in.
… not feeling a part of anywhere or anyone
The list goes on and on and on with the reasons to why I took that first step.
Then there’s all the reasons for taking the next and the next and the next one.
But let’s just say that after one – taking one more is just a frame of mind.
It doesn’t get any easier – but it doesn’t get much harder either.
Therefore continuing wasn’t all too hard.
And meeting all you wonderful people down the road just made the whole thing more and more exciting and whenever I felt a bit down n’ out, or tired, I always met someone or saw something that boosted me and gave me a push for another step. It would be hard to incorporate all of you in one message. But hopefully you still remember me.
To officially close this!
After Pelayo we slowly walked through the hard rain and misty clouds, down the mountain, for the first time seeing the end of my walk. Tarifa.
unfortunately we thought that green area on the maps mean off-road forest walking. Apparently at the outskirts of Europe it means militarized zone and very angry border patrols.
But with some smiling and looking confused we just got turned around and had to walk down the highway those last kilometres that day. At dusk we put up camp just at the townborder of Tarifa and went to bed hoping there would be no more rain that day.
… a foolish wish
At dawn the sun came up about the same time as we did. We were still half-soaked but a few hours in the spanish spring-sun left most of us fairly dry.
Breakfast was bread. Bread, butter and cheese. Just as it had been for the past 280 days.
We continued in to town, where I played harmonica for a few well needed coins, and took the boat over the Gibraltar strait. On a boat engulfed in wind and rain.