Yesterday was wet and cold, so before I went for my walk, I put on a set of polypropylene underwear, then my short and pants and topped it all with a fleece and my rain jacket. My pack has its rain jacket on, too. I was dry and warm all the time. The problem was that, after about 20 minutes, I was too warm. It was not feasible to take off anything for about an hour, so I walked my route, feeling progressively warmer and warmer. When I had the opportunity to take off my fleece, I did so and stuffed it into my backpack. At the end of my 2-hour walk, I was feeling quite drag-ass. The tired feeling lasted into today. I shall have to remember this when I embark next April on my walk in the hills around Le Puy. Better to start off a little cool and keep the fleece for when it is really cold, which I expect to hit early on. The country around Le Puy is very hilly. It is down-hill ski country, so I can expect to hit snow, perhaps even snow storms, early on in my journey. If the weather is really rotten, I shall just hole up for a day or two.

It rained throughout the day yesterday, but today was lovely. I spent much of it in the garden, getting it ready for the inevitable winter season. It was a nice day to be out, some sun, some clouds, but quite warm with just a long-sleeved shirt on. I managed to get the magnetic pump out of the pond, although I got wet up to my elbows and beyond my knees in the process. My garden shoes, which I wore in the pond, are outside now drying out. After a short nap – always a favourite in the afternoon, I went down to the Kanata Fitness Centre and tried out the various machines for large muscles. I will be using this facility over the next six months both for trying to maintain the large muscles and also for hill climbing using the treadmills. We shall see how well this works. I will keep you posted, for good or ill.

I told you that I would tell you about my training for my walk next year, so here goes. Last Saturday and today I did stealth training. I was walking but no-one knows I am training because it looks like I am golfing. On Saturday Carroll and I played golf at the Oaks of Cobden, a beautiful course about an hour north of Ottawa. Today I played with some guys from my community at Manderley on the Green, just south of the city. I totaled 11 km on Saturday and 11.5 km today. Actually any relationship between what I do on the golf course and real golf (the kind that some people watch on TV) is entirely coincidental. I thought as a former army helicopter pilot that golf would be easy. It’s just hand-eye co-ordination, after all, and I have (had?) that in spades. It was a great shock for me to discover that the translation between hand-eye co-ordination for flying and hand-eye co-ordination for golfing is not one-to-one. Closer to a fish on a bicycle. Saturday was good – 111 – but you can see that good is a relative term. It is slowly getting better but the only way that I am going to play my age is to live to about 114. That is my typical score.

A couple of celebrations this week-end as well. Sunday the 10^th was Sheevaun and TJ’s wedding anniversary – and the weather was about the same, absolutely beautiful, sunny warm, the trees every colour in creation. Today, Wednesday 13 October is Christian’s birthday. I recall vividly that day 43 years ago in Calgary because I attended his birth, which was very uncommon at that time. It was Friday the 13^th, turned out to be a lucky day for us. We called Christian our Centennial baby because it was 1967, Canada’s Centennial. We also called him Christian White Bear Thatcher, but that is another story.

It’s Monday, 11 October – Thanksgiving Day in Canada. The weather is beautiful here in Brooklin, just outside of Oshawa, Ontario, sunny, a few small clouds, almost 20 degrees Celsius. I am here with Carroll and Meredith at Christian’s house. He is our youngest son and the father of our two grandchildren, Cian (3 ½) and Isabella (1 ½). We had Thanksgiving dinner yesterday, with Maryan – Carroll’s sister from Ottawa, Paul, Michelle and their two children. Paul is our nephew, Maryan’s son. They live near Christian. Dinner was a great success.

Christian made his first ever Thanksgiving dinner – prepared and stuffed the turkey and all the classic trimmings: mashed potatoes and turnips, two kinds of dressing, green beans with toasted almond slivers, cranberry sauce and gravy – all using favourite family recipes. The turkey was beautifully cooked, very moist. There were very few leftovers – always a good sign. After dinner, two pumpkin pies made by Maryan. They were served with whipped cream, ice cream … or both. Of course I had some of everything and ate too much, also a Thanksgiving tradition for me.

We have a lot to be thankful for. We live in a wonderful and blessed country. It’s not perfect, but if you have lived or travelled anywhere else in the world, then you know how good it is here. Christian is playing with his two children and the sound of children’s laughter echoes through the house. The children are thriving – lively, happy, learning hourly.

Yesterday Bella was unhappy about something and was crying in my arms. Cian came in, very concerned and patted Bella, then went off and came back with her favourite toy to give to her. That stopped her crying. She hugged the duck tightly and I saw evidence of Cian’s empathy – an indicator of a strong and mature emotional state for a three-year-old. This empathy by Cian for his younger sibling is a very welcome sign of the strong bonding in this home. We have a lot to be thankful for.

I have now heard back from Marina and Paula about walking next year. Marina is newly married and living south of Boston, so it is no surprise that she is not interested in joining me. Paula lives in Bremen in Germany and although she likes the idea she does not feel that she has time to spare some for this. She did tell me that her father may be interested, and he would be most welcome. More at www.guythatcher.com.

 Last evening I got an unexpected and very welcome email from Jim Clem. I don’t know where he lives. He told me … well, I will let him tell you. This is his review of my book on the Amazon.com site:

“In 2003 my wife and I were pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago, and walked every step from St. Jean Pied de Port, France to Santiago, Spain. We returned for a second trip in 2005. I purchased the Kindle edition of “A Journey of Days: Relearning Life’s Lessons on the Camino de Santiago” by Guy Thatcher a few days ago and could not put it down. The book was very well written, accurate, funny, honest, truthful, and I enjoyed every page. Mr. Thatcher tells his Camino story in a day-to-day format so the reader gets a sense of what it is like on the trail. His description of the Camino de Santiago, places along the trail, people he met, weather, and the everyday experience, brought back many good memories of our trek across northern Spain.

I would highly recommend “A Journey of Days: Relearning Life’s Lessons on the Camino de Santiago” to anyone interested in the Camino de Santiago. If you have done the pilgrimage, you will enjoy revisiting it through this book. If you are thinking about doing the pilgrimage Mr. Thatcher’s book is a must read.”

How is that for a nice way to end an evening? It is really inspiring for me that strangers care enough to share their thoughts with me about my book.

Captain Robert Semrau has been sentenced today in his military court martial for the shooting of a critically wounded Afghan combatant during his service in Afghanistan. The sentence is a reduction in rank and dismissal from the Forces. Although Semrau never took the stand in his own defence, it is alleged that he told his soldiers that he shot the man to end his misery. The man was suffering from terrible wounds after having been shot out of a tree by an attack helicopter and was lying on the ground. There was no possibility to call for medical aid, which apparently would have been useless, given the man’s wounds. Semrau, along with several other soldiers, Canadians and Afghans, saw him there, then walked on. After a short time, Semrau walked back alone. Two shots were heard.

 I am an old soldier, served from 1955 to 1980 as an officer in the Canadian regular forces, mostly in combat arms – tanks and helicopters. I would hope that if I had ever been – or will ever be – faced with a similar moral dilemma, that I would have the courage and integrity to make the same decision as Semrau. He made what I perceive to be a truly moral decision, to help a wounded man on the battlefield die rather than leave him there to slowly die in agony. He saw him as another man in extremis, not just as a dying enemy. No-one saw him do it. The Afghan’s body was never found.

 Semrau’s mistake was that he told others what he had done and why, because he thought that they would understand what he did. Evidently at least one of them failed to understand or at least talked about it. Big mistake. The military “justice” system has no mechanism to deal with Semrau’s behaviour. In my view, his actions were moral but not legal. So when it was drawn to the attention of the military hierarchy, they had no option but to prosecute him. They are releasing from the forces a man who, by his own actions, has demonstrated the best of humanity under the worst of conditions. Robert Semrau, as one professional soldier to another, I salute you for your humanity.

Yesterday, a lovely sunny autumn day, I walked the equivalent of 15.6 km. How do I know this? I use a simple pedometer which counts my steps. That is all it does and it does it well. (It’s a Digi-Walker SW-200, the cheapest one they make.) Yesterday was 19,969 steps. Since my average step is 28 inches, I do the math and come up with my distance each day. I find tracking and logging distance is a powerful incentive for me to do the necessary training for my walk next April. When I don’t track, I tend to walk and train less. Do others have the same problem? I don’t know.

I sent an email out to the three young Germans who walked with me on the Camino three years ago, inviting them to join me for part of my walk next year. I have already heard back from Karsten in Berlin, who tells me that the school where he teaches has Easter break starting on 18 April 2011, so he will be free to join me at the beginning of my journey. I am delighted with this. I have not yet heard from the other two. This does not change … much …  my plan of walking alone. I expect that most of the time will be solitary walking, but having a Camino friend like Karsten to share a little of it will be entirely welcome.

I have just delivered to Meredith a copy of my book “A Journey of Days” and a copy of the audio book. They will be part of the silent auction at Steel Toes and Stilettos, the annual Habitat for Humanity gala on Friday October 15^th. I won’t actually be there … just my book. I hope it auctions for lots of money. Habitat will use it wisely.

On another note, I weighed my backpack this morning – it is 25 pounds. At the moment it is full of two large jugs of water to simulate the load I will carry in France. This is a little more weight than I plan to carry but it is good for training. When I pack it with the real contents it will seem lighter … I hope. This is the same pack that I bought in Pamplona when my original backpack failed to arrive in Spain. Another small change that I have made to my gear was to get rubber tips, just simple ones, for my walking poles. I find when I walk on asphalt or cement that the noise of the metal tips is like a Chinese water torture. Just slightly annoying at first, then slowly growing into a large and intrusive aggravation. Since being aggravated is not what my walking is about, the addition of rubber tips to the poles is a blessing.

Many people have asked me about the poles. Do I need two poles, do I need poles at all? For me the answer is yes. Poles are of minimum use on level ground, unless the surface is rough. On climbs the poles help reduce the load on my legs and on descents the poles help reduce the strain on my knees. I wouldn’t be without them.

I have started on my training for next year’s long walk (about 825 km – 512 miles) across France from Le Puy en Velay to Pamplona via the Pyrenees. I have a plane ticket from Ottawa to Paris, departing 13 April 2011, so I plan to start from Le Puy somewhere between 16 and 18 April, depending on weather (and whether my backpack arrives this time). For the past 4 months, I have averaged 250 km each month, with backpack and boots. I need to increase this slightly, but more importantly, I need to get in longer distances … and hills. I have a plan.

I am sure that you have seen one of the many nature documentaries from Africa showing a herd of antelope walking quietly along while at the side a lion feasts on one of their unlucky members. They seem remarkably unconcerned about a violent and stealthy predator eating a fellow antelope. What is going on? Why aren’t they dashing off in all directions?

 I have never understood this … until yesterday. I was driving on a highway when I passed a car pulled over at the side of the road with a police car behind it, lights flashing and looking very imposing. The police person was standing by the driver’s door, examining papers. I was struck by a thought about how much we are like antelope.

 When I passed the pulled-over car, my thoughts were that it wasn’t me pulled over and that if the cop was there, then the road ahead was likely free of police presence for a while, and I relaxed, exactly like an antelope. If the lion has already caught its prey, then it wasn’t me and if the lion was there, then the way ahead was likely free of predator presence for a while. I could relax.

 Let’s examine this idea a little. When something bad happens to someone else, it is always a tragedy, but at the same time there is a happy little voice in my head that says; “It isn’t me”. It is, of course, politically incorrect to voice this view publicly. The Germans are perhaps a little more open about this concept. They even have a word for it; “Schadenfreude”. We use the same word in English to describe pleasure at someone else’s misfortune.

 It is also a powerful, if subtle, reminder that we each have to live our own lives. We come into life alone, we exit it alone. We have many relationships, close or casual, throughout our lives but only we have the ability – or need – to live our personal life. We can’t live others’ lives, even though the temptation may be there, as in living your unrequited dream vicariously through your children. And others can’t live your life for you.

So, when you are considering any course of action, remember the antelope and take whatever action you need to take to meet your own code, your own needs and dreams. Stay in the moment and live each day fully. You never know what the future will bring for you. That dead antelope hadn’t planned to meet that particular lion that day, either.

Well, a very unexpected email yesterday from a Belgian woman, Vicky Possot. She said that she was idling through the Internet, looking for a reference to her father, René Possot. He was a Belgian army officer, a paratrooper and a commando, when he commanded the Belgian army’s anti-tank missile school in the early 60’s. She discovered a reference to him on page 60 of my book A Journey of Days, in which I wrote about a linguistic adventure … or misadventure … that I had had while in Belgium on a missile course in 1963 … that’s 47 years ago. From the book:

“I got to be very good friends with the school’s commander, a Belgian Army paratrooper named Capitaine Réné Possot. He invited me to join him and his wife, Louise, for a weekend in Liège, which was where she lived with her daughter, Claire. I arrived in Liège by train, was picked up at the station by René, and taken to his home in Visé.

“In the evening, we decided to go out to a nightclub for a few drinks. For some reason, I was sitting in the back of their car with Louise while René was driving. It was very warm and humid, so I commented, innocently, I thought, “René, je suis chaud” (I am hot). He laughed and said, “I hope not. You are sitting back there with my wife!” Then the two of them explained to me with much amusement, that, in French, there are two ways of saying “I am hot.” If it is the weather that is making you hot, you say; “J’ai chaud.” Literally, “I have heat.” The construction that I had used means “I am horny,” which, while accurate at the time, was not what I intended to say. Happily, both René and Louise thought it amusing rather than alarming.”

Back to the email from Vicky Possot:

“Good evening Sir
                     First, please forgive my bad English, … I was searching something on the net with my fathers’ name Possot René, and I was surprised when I read those few words about him!!! I know, (I was a very young girl) that he received Canadian people when we were living in “Visé” … are you really writing ‘This René Possot” story ?? he was in fact captain… I just remember little things !! It would be strange and also amusing to find you by that way.
Please forgive me if I’m not right but the name of Possot is very rare !!
Hoping to read from you soon,
Vicky P.”

My recollection is that René had a 12-year-old daughter named Claire. I remember this because Claire was my mother’s name. If the Vicky who wrote me is the same woman, then 47 years have passed since we last met and she is now about 59 years old! I have responded to her email but have not yet had a reply. I will keep you posted.