As I write this, my feet are killing me, my
legs don’t want to work properly, my back
is aching, my shoulders are sore, and I’m so
tired that it’s hard to keep my eyes open.
Still, I just can’t seem to stop grinning.
I’m 700 miles into a 1,000-mile hiking
and painting expedition. I’m walking the
famous Way of Saint James, alongside
mydonkey,Dupon,stoppingtopainten
pleinaireveryfivemilesalongtheentirejourney.I’vewalkedacross
France,overthePyrenees,and—asI write—I’malmosthalfway
acrossNorthernSpain.I’vebeenwalkingandpaintingnon-stopfor
fourexhaustingandexhilaratingmonths—withabouttwomore
monthstogo.I don’twanttheendtocome.
Rather than giving
titles to the paintings
I make along the
way, I’m using the
GPS coordinates to
identify the location
of each bucolic field,
rustic farm and grove
of olive trees.
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