What the Psychic Told the Pilgrim by Jane Christmas

Author:Jane Christmas
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-926685-56-4
Publisher: Greystone Books
Published: 2007-09-20T16:00:00+00:00

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11

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AN EERIE CALM drifts through the 5 AM world. It’s not a frightening time so much as an unknown one. The day’s script has yet to be written or even considered.

You have different thoughts at 5 AM than you do at, say, 7 AM. Daylight kick-starts your pulse and brainwaves, and before you know it a to-do list starts to assemble. But in the very early hours, before the Earth has awakened, before the veil of night is lifted, before the mind is contaminated by visual and aural distractions, possibility reigns. In blindness there is clarity and courage.

“This is the earliest I’ve started out,” I said to José, trying to make conversation with my new walking companion. “Do you normally start out this early?”

“I get up a little later,” he replied flatly.

“I could barely sleep,” I continued chirping away. “Did you hear the church bell last night? It tolled forty-two times! I couldn’t sleep after that. I’ve been awake since midnight.”

I was beginning to sound as annoying as Cathy.

“No, I did not hear them,” he responded. His short answers indicated he was not a morning person, so I shut up.

Darkness lifted, revealing gunmetal gray skies that drizzled rain. Beth’s clever mantra sprang to mind: “There’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad gear.”

My thoughts turned to rain ponchos, a piece of gear I had contrarily refused to pack for a couple of reasons. Rain ponchos cover your pack and your body, which is a good thing; but they can fly up around your head in a strong wind, which is not a good thing.

The other thing I had against ponchos was their color: I could only find orange ponchos. Honestly, even in the dark and the rain, even on a pilgrimage, who in their right mind would don an orange poncho? Oh sure, orange is meant to make you visible, but who wants to be seen wearing an item of clothing that makes you look like a walking garbage bag?

Serena had picked up a few disposable plastic rain ponchos in a clear blue color from a hardware store in Canada and had thoughtfully given me one. With the rain showing no signs of letting up, I had been forced to fish it out of my soggy backpack and put it on. To say it was hideous was stretching the bounds of understatement. Even José looked embarrassed to be seen with me.

As happens with thoughts that are pondered privately for a little too long, opinions emerge until they morph into a Big Complaint that is so obvious you are left wondering why the rest of the world has not cottoned on to it. The Big Complaint was this:

What are the designers of outdoor adventure clothing thinking when they sit in front of a drawing board? Do any of them, perchance, possess a geek filter? A practical, middle-age woman, the type who wears sensible shoes and watches an endless loop of the Antiques Roadshow or gardening shows would likely not object to something like an orange poncho.

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