I could not help wondering what lay ahead of us in our attempt to trek 3000 kilometres via Santiago de Compostalla back to my home in Cornwall. I don‘t think I have ever felt so alone, afraid, and excited at the same time. There was no going back now it serves me right for dreaming; you never know they might come through. My thoughts were cast back over the past few years to all the events; many painful, that had brought me to this place.

I have been asked many times how I came up with the idea of going to Spain to buy a horse, then to trek back to Penzance via Seville, Santiago and the Camino trail. To answer that question, I have to go back to 1998, where does a journey begin is life one long one, or a serious of short journeys! Does it begin with the first thought, dream of where or what you want to do or go! The more I think about it, it is becoming clearer I have to start with my first sojourn to Spain. It was also my first foreign holiday, previous holidays having been spent visiting family and friends in Ireland and Cornwall, and how lovely they were.

It was 1998 I was forty-five years old, the time had come to spread my wings, and I was single again my marriage having broken down, my two girls were grown. I was able to look at what I would like from a holiday, it did not take me long to decide. From a young age I have been an avid follower of Western movies and book; I knew if I could afford it I would love to go on a riding holiday in America’s Wild West. I got some brochures and scanned through them, but quickly realised that my dream of riding in the Wild West was a bit beyond my monetary recourses at that time. Well I might win the lottery, if I remembered to do it.

I sat one wet December night watching a Spaghetti Western, I noticed it had been filmed in Spain, an idea came to me. The following day I went and got some brochures about riding holidays in Spain. After looking through them, I worked out I could afford a weeks riding holiday in southern Spain, in February, or March 1999. I needed to talk to someone about it, so I rang my brother Jimmy in Ireland to ask his advice. I explained what I was proposing to do, “Jesus” says he; perhaps I will come with you. He told me he had friends living in Spain; he would speak to them about us possibly going over to stay with them. So it happened my planned package holiday turned into something completely different, and so helped to determine the path I was to take some three years later.

Over Xmas, Jimmy and I kept in contact. He was organising with his friends Elke and Tony as to when would be the best time for us to go over there. It was decided that the end of February 1999 would be the best time for them.

Jimmy was flying from Ireland, I then lived in North Devon, so I had to fly out of Gatwick, and we would meet in Spain. I would have preferred to have travelled with him, as I was a bit nervous about going on my own. Anyway plans were laid, flights were booked and I had to put my best foot forward. Another little problem was I was flying out in the morning; Jimmy his friend Ann, and Tony who was in Ireland visiting family were not flying until late afternoon. I would either have to wait all day in Malaga, or Elke, would have to make two trips to the airport. She insisted on meeting us off the planes, so two trips to the airport it was to be.

I was booked to fly out at 7.30 am, which meant I had to go up to Gatwick the night before. Luckily I have a cousin Pam and her husband Christopher they live in Coulsdon, its only twenty minutes drive from Gatwick. I made a phone call to Pam to ask her if they could put me up for the night, and not only they offered me a bed , but Christopher said that he would drive me to the airport in the morning, I felt a lot easier knowing I would not have to make my own way there.

When I arrived at Pam and Christopher’s, they told me they were going to a play in the village hall and would I like to go with them. I had not been to a village hall play in many years; I said I would love to. As we got ready to go, Pam got out a basket and she started to fill it with food and a bottle of wine; she saw the puzzled look on my face. We usually take a little picnic to the hall on these occasions, so does everyone else, what a lovely idea I said. When we got there, Pam introduced me to some of her friends; there was a great atmosphere in the hall. After a few drinks and some food, the play got underway, it was explained to me that after this performance it was going to the West End. It was a fun filled evening and a great start to my holiday; it sets the tone for what was to come.

I was up early in the morning Christopher was dropping me at the airport on his way to a business meeting. After a light breakfast we set off, for the short drive down the M25 to terminal one. Everything went smoothly booking in, which put me at ease. I was quietly excited about flying; I had flown to Ireland on a handful of occasions and really enjoyed it. The weather was cold but dry as we took off in the early dawn, I was delighted as I was given a window seat, I thought to myself we will be flying over Devon and Cornwall; I might be able to make out some landmarks.

Some three and half hours later after a very smooth flight, we descended towards Malaga airport in bright sunshine. It struck me how brown the countryside looked, even in winter N. Devon is fairly green.

I was feeling a bit apprehensive; I had not met Elke or Tony, before I was wondering if Elke would recognise me. I was also surprised how many people were at the airport; I thought to myself it would be easy to miss someone in this crowd. I retrieved my bag and went towards the exit, and waited for Elke to make contact. I was there about fifteen minutes, and I was getting a bit anxious, when a broad faced woman with black hair and a grin on her face approached me. “Steven is it?” “Yes” say’s I, she apologised for being late, “I’m glad to see you” I said. She had her two youngest sons with here; she said the older one had stayed at home.