The Adventures of a Wayfarer – Chapter 2

Chapter 2: “Happiness is one metre away from your fear.“

You never forget your first day of school, and you never forget your first walk either.

The night before my “initiation” I went to bed early and smoked just one cigarette after dinner; Lucy watched me while she gnawed on a bone, certainly not imagining what was waiting for her the next day. I reread the brochure Luca had left me: “The spiritual and scenic Cammino della Porta d’Oriente, with its roughly 44 km route, connects Ancona, the ancient gateway to the East, with the Basilica of Loreto, passing through Poggio and the countryside immersed in the beauty of the Conero Regional Park. The walk, usually done in two days, rediscovers old traces of the past, those of the pilgrims who landed in Ancona and reached the Marian shrine of Loreto, then continued along the Via Lauretana to Assisi and on to Rome.” Inside me, fear and joy mixed in a crazy whirlwind of thoughts.

But Luca, in his quiet and meticulous way, had explained that the route was doable and, without even knowing me well, after the introductions that November morning he gave me instructions for the following day. Luca was calm and reassuring, and I didn’t feel a moment of fear about diving into this new adventure. Of course, Marco looked at my worn-out Adidas and shook his head: “You’re coming in these tomorrow? They’re not suitable for a walk, you’ll get blisters on your feet!” I replied, “These are the only sports shoes I have, and well, maybe my All Stars as sneakers!”, but Marco looked at me wide-eyed and put a hand to his forehead: “Come on, they’ll do this once, but these aren’t suitable for trekking, you need proper shoes. Tomorrow try out this experience and then we’ll give you some guidance on gear.”

“Driiin Driiin Driiiin…” I jumped out of bed at that deafening sound. It was 5:00 in the morning; it had been years, maybe centuries, since I’d woken up before the sun. I got out of bed shivering, coffee and… no, no cigarette. The backpack I had packed the night before as instructed, an apple I bit into on the go, a shower and sportswear; I left the house shivering, took Lucy on her lead and we set off towards Piazzetta del Santo Spirito, the meeting point.

I looked at Anna; her smile and that wink reassured me. I had decided to face my life, my fear, my deafening silences. We started walking. My steps were clumsy and slow, the shoes with their worn rubber soles weren’t suited to the trail, and the ground was slippery even though it was a beginners’ route. I thought: what the heck am I doing? Where am I going? But the desire to make it and to be happy again gave me adrenaline.

So here I am, me, Nello, a nerd all circuits and sofa, out trekking. What the heck is this trekking anyway? I remembered Luca’s words from the day before: trekking means making a long journey, which in sporting terms translates into long walks, usually in the mountains, often at high altitudes, but luckily not always, at least not on my first day, where you walk along paths and through woods, following waymarked routes, accompanied by hikers, experts, associations or guides. At the heart of trekking is contact with nature: mountains, lakes, rivers and forests are “the gym” where this activity is practised. I was lucky, because thanks to that hat, that logo, that November day, I not only met a group of expert walkers, but I was catapulted into a new, different and exciting reality… which, however, lasted just 12 km before my Adidas left their mark on me.