Only 3 days left

So everything is packed:

1 sweater, 2 t-shirts, 1 pair of shorts, 3 pairs of socks, 1 pair of leggings, rain pants and rain poncho, 3 sets of underwear, bikini and hiking shoes. Also, trekking pants, 1 fleece jacket, another shirt, and flip-flops, which I will wear on the flight.

In addition, my trekking poles, 1 water bottle, blister plasters, earplugs, clothesline, iPad with charger, shoe wax, neck pouch, microfiber bath towel, sleeping bag, insect repellent, shampoo, lotion, toothbrush, deodorant, my medication, map and guidebook, headlamp, travel diary.

Furthermore, 2 stones (one for me and one for my mom). It is customary to take a stone from home and leave this stone at the Cruz de Ferro, a 1500-meter high pass in Rabanal, to leave behind one's worries, fears, and sorrows. By the way, the backpack weighs a total of 7 kilograms.

And on Monday, I can say... the MOP is on its way :-)) MOP stands for:

M (that's me)

O for my backpack Otto

P for my sleeping bear Paul

I know, it's pretty stupid for an adult woman to bring a bear with her, but then I don't feel so alone. And it was clear to give my backpack the name Otto because no other name was an option. I booked the flight to Pamplona spontaneously last year because of Otto; it was on his 6th death anniversary, and I chose the date so that I would arrive in Santiago on his 7th death anniversary to light a candle for him at 15:42 in the Cathedral of Santiago, so that I can finally let go. Otto was a black cat whom I loved more than anything. When he died, my world fell apart. I can barely remember the first two years after his death, I only know that there was not a day when I didn't cry.

Today I'm aware that this was the trigger for my first major depression; unfortunately, I am still fighting this illness, and this is also a reason why I'm embarking on this journey.

However, at the time of booking, I did not know what to expect in the coming months.... another 4 of my cats have died in the last 12 months: Opi, Lotte, Eddie, and Samara, and then my mom 2 months ago .

I also want to think about whether I want to continue my volunteer work along the way. For the past three years, I have worked my ass off for this association in every free minute, only to find out that these people did not understand that I absolutely needed a break after my mother's death.

I get along much better with animals than with people, and when I think that I won't see my fur babies for the next 5 weeks, I have a lump in my throat. But they are in good hands; my husband takes care of our 12 cats, and my pet sitter Christiane takes care of the two dogs.

So, that's it for now. I hope to survive the next 3 days because I'm fucking scared, although I don't know exactly what?!? Scared of walking alone through the Spanish countryside for 730 kilometers... scared of not making it, of failing?

The journey is the destination, so close your eyes and go for it