Reflection

I spent just over four weeks on the trail, and during these four weeks I was genuinely happy. Why?

I must first acknowledge that there is no merit in being happy under such circumstances. After all I was in a situation where I had no responsibilities, no worries. I had selfishly disconnected myself from work, houses, and to a large extent even family. All my basic needs were taken care of – food, a shower at the end of the day, a bed, wifi in most places – and for four weeks that was enough. Money, although accommodation and food were generally inexpensive, was never an issue either. But there was more to my happiness than the absence of worries. Likely, staying at home in a similar set of circumstances would not have left me as happy. I sense that my happiness had to do with being on the path, but also that some of it came from within.

Part of it was a very deliberate effort I made from the start not let my mind be distracted by anything not related to the hike itself. My mind was free of the obsessions, idées fixes, wants, often born out of boredom or distraction, that so easily plague it in ordinary life, and that I sometimes cannot get rid of during hikes that last only for the day. But the conscious effort is only part of the explanation, although I don’t necessarily have a better one. It just happened; it was probably helped by the circumstances in which I had placed myself.

Being in silence helped. I was alone most of the time, except for the few occasions when I encountered fellow hikers (and I never shied away from discussion then), and of course in evenings and mornings at the inn. But the rest of the time, I could focus on the path (with limited success, as I missed so many turns!) and on my surroundings. Being alone was not a goal in itself – in fact, I usually fare better in a social structure (family, work). But there was a noticeable difference with group hikes, where discussions with fellow hikers often distract from what is around the trail. Hiking alone, all that could distract my mind, apart from itself, was nature.

The physical effort also helped – during climbs I was very focused on my energy and the alternating periods of walking and resting that followed a cycle lasting one minute or so. My body itself was responding well to the effort and feeling good – although not letting me sleep as I had hoped for (I had a surprising large number of bad nights).

I am sure that some days there was also a sense of accomplishment, specially when looking back and seeing in the distance peaks where I had been a day or two ago.

Being in a different setting was also very beneficial. I did not have all the things that can distract me so easily in regular life – no fridge stuffed with food; no internet stuffed with everything. I was only superficially aware of world events, and although I did check my email every day, I hardly spent any time responding to it.

My days were structured, had a rhythm of their own: getting up relatively early, having breakfast, walking, arriving, taking a shower, writing my blog, having dinner, reading a bit, going to bed early. Structure without stress, clearly. Writing the blog was very beneficial, too. It forced me to go over what had happened during the day and gave me a way to share what I had experienced, despite doing this hike alone. During the hiking periods themselves it also forced me to think about what was worth the effort to take a picture to include in the day’s blog (the cell phone was stored in the top part of my backpack, so to take a picture I had to take the backpack off and then back on, which was a significant undertaking).

My backpack also had its own discipline: there was space for everything I had, and everything had a place. I had very little in terms of possessions – it all fit in the backpack. Nothing was superfluous (I used every single item, except for the first aid stuff). Carrying all my possessions on my back gave me an incredible sense of freedom – it made me realize how few, of all the things I have or want, are truly necessary.

The beauty of the path must take some credit too. The landscapes, the buildings, and the trail itself were beautiful. Some of the landscapes were very calming, some were more dramatic. The view of the path itself had a soothing effect. A path through a forest, or meandering through flowers, is very beautiful indeed.

There were also some moments of awe, particularly during the first part of the hike: being on the Pic d’Iparla and enjoying the view and the vultures gliding below; attending mass in Basque in Saint-Engrâce; reaching the Col d’Ayous and encountering the Pic du Midi d’Ossau for the first time; witnessing the sheep leaving their estive through the village of Gabas; seeing the cathedral in Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges emerge suddenly in the distance. These moments illuminate the days and have an incredible effect on the mind.

Discovering new places, traditions, etc. and meeting new people was also great.    My interactions with others were always free of conflict. Fellow hikers were always kind, and so were the innkeepers. I witnessed many times the kindness of people – whether it was the volunteers organizing accommodation for pilgrims, or innkeepers going the extra step to make me feel comfortable, or perfect strangers pointing me to the right direction without even being asked (I must have looked really lost!)

In short, there is not just one single compelling reason for my happiness. It was because of the trail, because of me, because of the people I met; it was because of the newness of the situation, because of the beauty of the surroundings, because I had so few possessions; it was because of the physical effort and my body’s response to it, and because of the rhythm of the path and the structure of the days. It was because of all these reasons, and their complex interactions, that I was happy.