Our fall 2019 trek on England’s South West Coast Path left us wanting more. While we (and our backpacks) await our chance to find our next adventure, Sue walks the hills around our home in Ashland, Oregon, and I bicycle on nearby quiet roads and bike paths.
Then I work on my second book, to be published (I hope) by the end of 2020. Here is a sneak preview (working title is Trippin’ Through My Sixties):
A guy (that’s me) retiring at age 60 revives the rebellious rumblings of his teen years in the 1960s. He and his wife set out to make their post-working years an adventure by moving out of state, making new friends, and walking the long-distance trails of Europe. There are four parts: Scotland’s West Highland Way, the Alps’ Tour du Mont Blanc, Italy’s Way of St. Francis, and England’s South West Coast Path. Each trek challenged us with more adventure than we thought possible.
My first book, Camino Sunrise, an adventure memoir about our first trek, continues to find new readers in several countries. I am so grateful for its success and for the many readers who send emails or write reviews.
Send along a note (See Contact in the Menu) if you want to be among the first to know when the new book is out. Meanwhile, my best wishes for your good health.
These circles of distraction sky-high goalsWriting Collab #15- Camino Sunrise — Peter Wyn Mosey
I am honored that Peter Wyn Mosey of South Wales has published an excerpt from my book, Camino Sunrise, on his website as a collaborative project. Click on the link to see his wonderful poem to accompany my story.
See that speck of a building below the glacier? It is Refugio Elisabetta, one of a collection of remote hostels on the 110-mile Tour du Mont Blanc.
I would never have stayed there if it had not been for my hiking adventure on the Camino de Santiago.
Perched on a spur in the Italian Alps, Refugio Elisabetta offered triple bunks in a crowded coed dorm and bright orange clogs for walking around an outdoor setting that left me gobsmacked. I showered in minimal privacy, shared a sink with other men, and waited to use the only toilet with a seat. We had lucked out with a private room with barely enough room for one set of bunks, but its tiny window opened to a view of the glacier. The dirty duvet made me wish I had packed my sleeping liner, but I was grateful for the bed after several exhausting days of climbs and descents.
Refugio Elisabetta was a highlight of our two-week trip around the Alps’ tallest mountain. The delicious communal dinner came with quick-binding friendships with trekkers who had traveled from throughout Europe. Some were sleeping in tents in the campground down the slope from the building.
In Camino Sunrise: Walking With My Shadows, I describe the restless night in my first albergue in Spain and how I had ruminated about the lack of privacy in coed dorms and bathrooms. Our first long-distance backpacking adventure eventually guided me to come to terms with ghosts that had haunted me since childhood.
And, oh, so thankfully, the Camino lessons led me to Refugio Elisabetta.