Adjusting to the realities of aches and pains
Facebook memories remind me that I am usually travelling around this time every year. This morning, I am sending you this short message from Québec City before we pack our suitcases and head to the Eastern Townships for ten days. October is my favourite time of the year to travel - the weather is still warm, the quality of the light is good, and usually smaller crowds - although that seems to have changed these last few years! Mind you, this is also one of my favourite times to be home - putting the garden to bed, curling up by the fire with a good book, and walking through cedar forests with Bella.
We are staying just on the outskirts of the busy-ness of Old Québec City, about a half-hour walk from the Vieux-Port. The streets are swarming with tourists in Vieux-Port. Walking groups block the narrow roads as they follow their guides, stopping to take frequent selfies. Outdoor terraces are full of groups, many from the cruise ships harboured in the port.
When we travel, we tend to rent an apartment or small house outside the main tourist zones. We like the local vibe — neighbourhood cafés, small restaurants, and quiet walks to historic sites. This time, though, walking isn’t really an option. Québec City’s cobblestones and hills are hard on my knees. We’ve parked the rental car in an underground garage and are using Uber instead. It’s partly practicality — parking is scarce — but mostly necessity. For the first time in all my years of travel, my body is setting limits!
Two weeks ago, just before we left, I had X-rays done. My right knee has now advanced to severe osteoarthritis; my left isn’t far behind. I wasn’t surprised. Some mornings I can barely walk. I never know what the day will bring until I stand up — slowly, gripping the nightstand, waiting for my knees to send the morning report to my brain. Québec City is hilly, and even my knee braces do not offer enough support. I feel bad as my husband is here for the first time, interested in seeing the history he learned about in school. He refuses to head out without me. I finally persuaded him to go on a walking tour on Thursday as I was facilitating a writing workshop. I’m so glad he went, as his enthusiasm about everything he had seen was infectious when we later met up.
We head to the Eastern Townships tomorrow, and our schedule will slow to a pace my knees will appreciate. First, a few days in a lakeside cottage for some R&R. We are looking forward to both the indoor and outdoor wood fireplaces, local wines and beer, a pile of books, and some cribbage competitions. Then we are settling into a house in the village of Knowlton, Inspector Gamache territory, for those of you who love Louise Penny’s books. While we won’t be doing any long hikes, we will visit many of the delightful villages in this area, stroll the streets, enjoy some of the shorter lakeside walks, and marvel at the fall foliage as we drive through farmland.
Still, I feel a deep ache that has nothing to do with my knees. I love to walk, and I am feeling let down by my body. I have walked the Portuguese Coastal Camino, hiked through the Douro Valley in Portugal, the Atlas Mountains in Morocco, and through the Asturian mountains in northern Spain. Walking has always been my way of grounding myself — of seeing the world step by step.
(L to R) Reaching Santiago de Compostela after walking 288 km, a libation after a day of hiking in the Asturian mountains, sweaty and happy after tackling the Atlas Mountains, miles of ocean walks with my dog.
These days, I am an armchair walker, following the adventures of friends who also enjoy walking. Tracy of Travel Bug Tonic is currently walking the Camino with two friends. I am enjoying her social media posts - her stories of making new friends and helping to prepare meals in albergues, as well as her photos of the famous Camino scallop shell and the countryside. Katharine, of A Wabi Sabi Life, is in Bangkok before she heads to Bhutan for a trekking adventure. She posts beautiful photos that capture the essence of the countries she visits.
I am hoping there will be a message on our phone when we get home for an appointment to see the knee specialist. I have already been waiting for three months. As I approached my sixties, I worried about my memory, as dementia is prevalent in my family. I never thought my body would begin to fail me! I know this is part of aging — the slow negotiation between what I want to do and what my body will allow - but I am hopeful that one day soon, I will bounce out of bed once again to head off on long walks!
