Rota Vicentina: 220 km to find yourself
Kilometers of us
I LIVED MY DAYS AS A STRANGER TO MYSELF
I had just left the office and got on the tram home, my legs were shaking. At the National Theatre stop I got off, overcome by the need to walk.
My life had suffered a major trauma, anxiety had grayed my days and no solution could change the course of things. I felt no satisfaction in doing anything, I no longer listened to music, I no longer read books, I no longer saw friends; I had changed the genre of music, I had changed novels, I had met new people, but the feeling of emptiness showed no signs of disappearing.
I lived my days as a stranger to myself, observing myself from the outside, as in a video game where I planned my character's moves: the meal to cook for lunch and the sweater to wear for the day. I felt annihilated by an entity that lived inside me, but from which I was completely alienated.
When my mind and heart were immersed in misunderstanding and chaos, one of my best friends took me out for a walk. “The fresh winter air will help you,” he said. Walking in silence, I reflected on how anxiety had suffocated my daily life, to the point that even a simple walk seemed an insurmountable feat. Over the past six months, I had devoted myself to the most disparate solutions: from yoga to culinary experiments, from therapy to refuge in silence. Yet, in that precise moment, I realized that I had to start over with the first thing a child learns to do: I had to walk.
Three months later, I found myself on a 220-kilometer road trip along Portugal's majestic ocean coast.
Planning the Fishermen's Walk was not easy at all: the constant questions like "Are you sure you want to go alone?", "Are you trained?", "Wouldn't a walk in the countryside be enough?" were difficult to manage. But my tenacity did not fail, and I knew that a simple activity like walking would give me the satisfaction I was looking for, silencing the insecurities that constantly accompanied me.
The path winds through cliffs overlooking the Atlantic, which made me feel small in front of the vastness of the world, but also incredibly free. I vividly remember the lightness I felt when my exhausted feet touched the sand of the Brejo Largo Beach, I hadn't felt that way for a long time. Floating in the freezing ocean, my body still, my gaze lost towards the high cliffs, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for the trust and love I had been able to give myself.
Eleven days of walking in which everyday life takes on a different face. Every morning you prepare for a long day: in my hostel room, in one of the many small Portuguese fishing villages, I arranged my 6 kg backpack that I carried on my shoulders, bandaged the thousand blisters on my feet and started walking. The only thought that matters is walking, as if it were an invitation to stop and not worry about anything.
The Cammino dei Pescatori along the Rota Vicentina is a journey through an ever-changing landscape: the route winds between imposing cliffs, solitary coves, golden beaches and paths that pass through pine forests and Mediterranean scrub.
Walking along the coast means breathing the ocean, feeling its energy, its strength, but also its calm; it means perceiving the scent of the cistus that mixes with that of the ocean and the earth, creating a unique fragrance. I have met wonderful souls along the way, to whom I have told stories and from whom I have had them tell stories about me. I have found much light, great beauty, and a deep love.
Walking did not eliminate my anxiety, but together we evolved, we matured. We drifted apart, then reunited, like a couple of lovers destined to never separate. Sometimes I caressed her and took care of her, other times she supported me. Most of the time we argued because of her crude and hasty ways of taking care of me, sometimes I forgave her, other times not. Sometimes she can be gentle and, with a slight tachycardia, she can tell me that in a few days I might have to face a uncomfortable situation, and I can duly draw up a to-do list to be able to handle it. Other times it manifests itself as a tsunami and I flounder, I drown: suddenly my thoughts become dark and chaotic, they fly very fast like moths attracted by neon lights, my legs tremble, my neck sweats, my heart beats frantically and I don't breathe, but I swallow air. At that moment I close my eyes and immerse myself again in the Atlantic Ocean, I breathe with my diaphragm and caress the sand with my hands, the salty wind brushes me and I free myself from the restlessness.
In those days along the Rota Vicentina, I learned that the process is not linear, that there will be lighter days and others more labyrinthine, but that every step has value. Walking I rediscovered the beauty of simplicity, the comfort of movement, the power of a landscape that knows how to heal, without haste, without forcing.
Article and photos by Graziana Trisolini
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