Daylight is struggling to shift the morning mists to a paler shade of grey. Portland to the south, shrouded in fog, is lost from view. The nearest trees are just vague dark smudges, hardly silhouettes. Robin, got a lead on me today as she rose early to prepare her music for an ordination mass this morning. I followed an hour later, gathering a bit of breakfast and some tea (Bamboo Mountain) along the way. As the trilling of scales upstairs signaled no conversation was forthcoming I reached out for the book nearest at hand. It was John Brierley's Camino Guide. A few days earler, Robin and I, had been caught in a Camino moment (again), and dug out John's book to clarify a name. It has since been close at hand (why bother to put it away). Some, as I have read, feel John's writing is a bit too reflective. They just want the practical bits. But, I thoroughly connect with him, and enjoy his inner musings. The Camino for Robin, and I, presented many of the same challenges that John relates in his guide. After all, don't we all share the same human weaknesses? It is clearly important to have a full understanding of the route, the equipment you will need, the terrain, and the weather, but it is also became clear as we walked along that there was an inner journey that emerged which we had not fully considered or prepared for. Of course, I don't know how one prepares for that sort of thing, but that companion journey turned out to be more compelling than the physical one. I guess I would just simply say to be aware for the blessing of silence and the freedom from distraction. What that enables on your Camino will be your personal discovery, and joy. For us, it was in those many quiet moments, as we made our way down the Camino in December and January, where our faith awakened, and a connection to the Camino was forged forever. Robin often refers to this experience as a love letter from God. She just might be on to something.