Total Reboot

For many months I have been training with Heidi.
We have learned and achieved a lot together. Then her problems began. First gently, then they became increasingly noticable: The unexplainable weight loss, the increasing nervousness.

Almost two months before the planned start of the journey, it was time to take stock and to ask myself: can I take the responsibility for going on the pilgrimage with Heidi?
I did many calculations, weighing the food rations we need and the possible maximum weight. I checked the route again and again, assessing whether a main road might be circumvented or a railway crossing avoided. I imagined us walking through the cities of Biel and Locarno, and through the endless industrial areas of Milan.
And finally through the semi-desert of Basilicates, where there will be only heat, sand and rock, but hardly any food.
It can not be justified.
And that means: either the project is dead now, or I need another pack animal.

It all happened incredibly fast. I found an advertisement  «trained trekking donkey, has already been on the Way of St. James and other long-term trails». 

His name is «Gamin» and he lives in Roiffieux, Département Ardèche, in the region Rhône Alpes.    

TGV, the railway company, brought me there quickly, and yesterday I already was on a long tour with Gamin and his owners, through the Mediterranean pine forests in the rocky hills west of the village.

I continuously compared him with Heidi  - «Heidi would react like this, would do that». Meanwhile, a well-behaved Gamin trotted behind me most of the time.

The contact with the couple who owned Gamin - both of them experienced trekkers with pack animals - was incredibly important for me. Their kindheartedness and their many valuable tips motivated me and gave me new courage. They were enthusiastic about my project.

In the evening, the sales contract was signed. Gamin is mine now.

But it doesn't make sense to pay for an expensive transport in order to bring Gamin to me in the Vosges region. I will therefore alter the route and set out from Roiffieux.

The whole Swiss part of the route will be omitted. Instead we will cross the Vercors mountains, the Maritime Alps, and enter Italy from the west. The Milan Agglomeration will also be dropped. Behind Genova I will meet my old, original route again.

This is not easy for me. I have been looking forward very much to the Swiss legs of the journey: the Gotthard pass, the Entlebuch, the Maggia valley ...

But these places are not "the" pilgrimage. The pilgrimage is Aldo Moro, Torrita Tiberina, Maglie ... and this route will remain.

I will miss the specialness of departing from my own door in order to walk to the door of the house where Aldo was born in Maglie.

On April 15th, I will take the train to Roiffieux, where I will make the last preparations with Gamin's owners, including a test tour with the full luggage on the 16th.

And on April 17th, I will definitely set out.

The route via the south of France is much shorter, but there are more mountains. Nevertheless, it might happen that I arrive a whole month early ... perhaps really in September instead of October. Then I'd be in Maglie for Aldo's birthday.

During my absence, Heidi will graze on the pastures of Maupotel. I will bring her there soon. A temporary farewell, which is also difficult for me.

I am still struggling to come to terms with these great changes. Although I know that they were the right thing to do.

Transforming the Shock

The dark days continue to rule the land. Everywhere, the deep trauma, which burdens the whole nation, can be felt.
It lurks like a heavy shadow in every corner, it is chiseled into every face like a grey veil.

I, too, have fallen down and can not get up any more. Every attempt is crushed, it feels as if a slab of concrete lies on me, a volley of bullets hits my heart. It is a mixture of guild "How can I continue when this has happened, when THEY can not continue any more?" and an all-encompassing feeling of futility.

Italy and Aldo Moro seem to be as far away as never before.
For the first time since I decided to make this pilgrimage a year ago, I lack motivation. All the blossoming dreams of majestic mountains, crystal-clear bays, cicadas and stars fade into an unreal, departing hallucination of the past.

Training has become nothing but a duty. After all, the horse needs to be moved.
I set out, but listlessly. I get angry about every mistake the animal makes. Once again Heidi balks, runs away, for no apparent reason. I can hold her back, but I swear at her. I mutter "stupid beast" into the cold air of meaninglessness.

Down in the forest, the path leads along the brook "Ruisseau des Cailloux". I've wanted to walk it for ages. But the melting snow has transformed the brook into a torrential river, which has flooded its surroundings in many places. And a tree lies across the trail. At first sight, it seems impassable.
To quote Theo Kojak: "Delightful!"
I know there will be many of this kind of situations on the road.

And now I am even more fed up with everything.

I turn the horse around. I want to go home, park the horse in the paddock and crash down on the sofa.

Then I realise: if I turn around now, it will be for good. I won't come back tomorrow to see whether the path might be passable then.
And that would be the end of Aldo, the stars and the cicada.



Thus, I climb down the steep, muddy, slippery hillside. Heidi, who has become nervous due to all this to and fro, begins to move as well. Far too fast, I hold her back. She must learn to follow me slowly on such dangerous paths, keeping her distance.
Learn?
This means that I am in the middle of the training again.
We fight our way across the slippery stones at the waterside, circumvent the tree by climbing up again into the forest, and down again.
We master the difficult spot. For a moment, the light falls into the forest and makes the wild water sparkle. It seems to carry a greeting from far-away Apulia.

Je suis Charlie