Ah yes, the holiday season. It arrives with festivities and it departs with greater festivities. Goodbye… and please do not return until next year… if you must. Christmas has always been about family, yet in the same context, Christmas has been about the spirit of giving—in many different ways. When I say giving, I am referring to a scale of giving; from honest care to its’ opposite, or shall we say mass consumption and the hoards of consumers, entering shops and browsing online catalogs with as deep or as shallow of pockets permissible. And this holiday season [View Full Entry]

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Hunger is a necessary experience of travel (and life, I suppose), and when on a budget, there is very little fear of hunger. It is commonplace in a strange land, on a strange form of transportation that might last for days, and often it is satisfied only sparingly when on that well-known budget. But, the local markets do provide wonderfully, as with the vendors along the streets and the friendly strangers who invite you in to quench your thirst, and hopefully (cross your fingers), feed you. Yet there is never a guarantee, and to eat is a necessity. So whip out [View Full Entry]

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...continued Cahors would be the last time I would ever see The Way. As I sat, as I wandered through the small picturesque town situated on a bend upon the Lot River—as I felt my body and listened deeper to a purpose gone unknown—I came to understand much about Le Chemin de Saint Jacques de Compostelle. The Way presented itself with all I had dreamt of: it was rough, it was a challenge, and it was isolation and segregation from the external world beyond me. The Way of Saint James was immense, and its’ scope of power and realization fulfilled my [View Full Entry]

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...continued Shortly after nine in the morning on August 9th, 2007 I took my first steps on Le Chemin de Saint Jacques de Compostelle. I was on The Way, and up and out of Le-Puy-en-Velay the hills climbed. They took me onto a plateau and instantly I was in the French countryside. Here, clouds came closer to the earth and fields rolled along with their grains of harvest. Cylindrical bails of hay were stacked in open country and tractors groaned through the quiet of the day. Slowly, I came upon my fellow pilgrims who attended the morning’s mass, as well as [View Full Entry]

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The trail winds like the southern mistral. It twists and turns, left and right, and ascends and descends as if a direct route to the heavens. In some ways, it is. In some ways this pilgrimage is a test for all those travelers in Life. It is The Way, and I have become another pilgrim of an ancient tradition in the catholic faith. Welcome to Le Chemin de Saint Jacques de Compostelle. This is The Way. Walking To A New Peace After three months of walking with Footprints for Peace from Dublin, Ireland to London, England I though [View Full Entry]

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Slowly the landscape changed. From the English countryside—a run of wild horses and the dance of the summer’s breeze—everything around us transformed. The smells went from farmland to diesel and rubbish. The sounds went from the fresh streams of air to the movement of a city. But tastes became sweeter. Along the way, berries and plums became full in their ripeness and apples fell to the ground at our weary feet. London came and soon London would go. Hiroshima Day was approaching. Southall was a warm welcome. Throughout the English land we received the Englis [View Full Entry]

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This article has been re-published due to system failure. Saturday, July 21st: Milton Keynes came into our sights this day. We stretched our legs after seventy days of walking, having first moved north out of Dublin, walking up to Belfast, then riding east into Scotland. Starting from Faslane Trident Submarine Base just out of Glasgow, our United Kingdom exploration began. The footpaths and roads guided us south along the Irish Sea until we crossed up and over and into the Midlands. Now, a mere two weeks north of London, the days ahead seem to vanish quickly, and the comple [View Full Entry]

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Over the hills and far away, the Yorkshire Dales National Park unfolded before us. Slowly, Footprints for Peace headed east from Sellafield. Upon the fells of the Lake District, down to the fields and across an Area of Outstanding Beauty, we waded the waters. In our shoes pools formed, sufficiently pruning our feet. The blisters swelled and the afternoon’s sandwiches became soggy. Day in and day out, we were wet, as England received record rainfalls for the month of June. In one day’s time, the city of Sheffield found itself floati [View Full Entry]

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The article had to be re-published due to Travelblog.org system failure. To our great misfortune, our fears were realized. As we treaded down the west coast of England along the Cumbrian Coastal Way, our destination had been Sellafield. We came upon its saturnine towers of concrete and metal. We stood vigil outside its aluminum blocks of industry where stores of highly radioactive waste were kept, reprocessed and manufactured. We prayed and then walked on, wandering toward London through the green fells of Cumbria. But before the ten peace walkers with [url=http://www.footprintsforpe [View Full Entry]

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Sorry folks, here's another re-published article. We’re moving through The Glen. Ferns carpet the soils, sprouting from the beds of moss where thick shadows linger throughout the whole of the day. There is silence between the chattering of birds, and my eyes wander among the tree trunks. I see Merlin peering from behind a bough. He wears a tall, speckled hat. His eyes are sallow and white folds of hair dangle from about the face. Features are long, veiled in wizardry, and his robes blend into the glen’s mystique. He winks and disappears. The Peace Walk crosses the land [View Full Entry]

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