Camino de Santiago ……. My Journey….

It’s still dark, 7-30 in the morning, I stop and turn around to look at the now distant lights of the small Spanish village who’s cold empty streets I left behind me almost an hour ago. It’s now the very end of September and the night frosts of Northern Spain lie clearly in the fields and hedge bottoms. My fingers are cold; my feet still a little stiff, and my mind not yet fully functioning on the day ahead of me. Its beginning to get light and I can now just make out the outline of the church and by its side the pilgrims hostel where I spent the previous night. Soon it will be sunrise, a glowing ball of fire rising out of the valley, over the wheat fields of the Meseta, the rolling vineyards of Rioja or the majestic peaks of the Cantabrian Mountains. By 10-30 the sun will be high enough for me to feel the warmth upon my back, time to take off the first layer, my walking jacket, fleece and socks [now used as makeshift gloves] are tucked into my rucksack. A new energy envelopes me as last nights plans of today’s journey are brought to the forefront, another quick look at the guide book to make sure of somewhere to stop and eat mid-morning, the location of wayside drinking fountains [ a chance to re-hydrate, and refill water bottles ] perhaps a bar for a well earned afternoon beer, and ultimately, at today’s destination I will need somewhere to eat and a hostel to sleep the night.

Rebekka was a 23 year old girl full of life who went back packing for the first time in 2001. She travelled and worked for 8 months but unfortunately her time was cut short on 02/02/02. After arriving with a friend in Australia, they travelled for 3 days on a train from Sydney to Cairns, where they met 2 Kiwi cowboys who had work in the outback. These later became their knights in shining armour finding them work also in the outback as Nannies on cattle stations. 

They both worked on separate cattle stations, knowing nothing about the outback and their potential dangers, with no previous knowledge or information.They were at least 7 hours drive apart. After leaving work and meeting for a break of travelling to see New Zealand, Rebekka returned to the cattle station.

Heather Recounts a Terrifying Ordeal

The trip to Nepal was something we'd been planning for nearly a year. Myself and three friends had booked a ten day trek around the Annapurnas in the Himalayas, followed by five weeks in India.

The trip was exactly what we needed. We'd just finished our exams and felt revived amongst the wonderful scenery and mountain air. Although the air grew a bit thin at the top, we made it over the Thorong La Pass at 5416m with only mild mountain sickness, and no sign of the Maoist rebels. The trek ended in Pokhora, Nepal's second city. We spent the first day relaxing, shopping and getting our clothes washed! before having a farewell dinner with our guide. 

The day our guides left, we set off at 8am to walk up the "beautiful forest trail," as described by our guide book, to the world peace pagoda. With beautiful views of Pokhora, the lake and the Himalayas, it seemed like a necessary visit.

We'd been walking up the wooded trail for about 30 minutes when we discovered we were sharing the path with hundreds of leeches. Walking quicker to get out of the trees and away from the leeches, I failed to notice two Nepalese men on the path above us.

On February 24 2008, around 1 p.m., I was kidnapped.

More than three years have passed since this unfortunate event. Luckily, nothing tragic then happened to me. I was neither raped nor stabbed, sequestrated nor assaulted; I was only threatened.

Still, this incident marked the first test of my mental preparation, a giant leap out of my comfort zone, a jump with both feet, almost unconscious, into a danger zone. It marked the end of seven years of quiet, undisturbed hitchhiking. The fly in the ointment but also the beginning of a new era. The end of innocence and the beginning of an intense mental preparation. The dawn of my real career as a hitchhiker.

In late January, at Cologne’s carnival, I had met an eccentric man whom I liked. My life unfolded as a series of road trips in the Ruhr area, between Essen, where my pied-a-terre was, and Cologne where my lover lived.