“We always know which is the best road to follow.”

— Paulo Coelho

Monday morning got off to a beautiful start in the mountain town of Şaphane.

I had a leisurely breakfast at a family-run restaurant, feasting on bread and cheese and more tarhana soup, and then the family’s 26-year-old son Murat accompanied me to the old mosque, which dates to 1490.

It was the first mosque I had been inside on the Evliya Çelebi Way, and there couldn’t have been a more perfect one for the occasion. I hadn’t expected it to be so colorful, for there to be murals on the walls and a vibrantly painted cupola in the center of the ceiling. For there to be an enormous, three-tiered chandelier, its golden rings engraved with sayings from the Quran. For there to be an 800-year-old grandfather clock, the ticking of its pendulum the only sound in the room.

It was almost 11am by the time I said goodbye to Murat and began walking, but I wasn’t worried. My guidebook said the day’s route would take just five and a half hours to cover, and a line from my journal the night before hints at my growing lenience:

“Now I can relax a bit more on my last two days of walking, knowing they’re shorter days.”

Was I asking for it or what? Naturally, I was lost within half an hour. Maybe even twenty minutes. Murat had tried to stop me from taking this route, had tried to send me on the asphalt as opposed to the guidebook way, which he said would be “difficult, and long.”

Difficult is okay! Long is no problem! I assured him, marching off blissfully up a chalky forest road. But I soon realized it was not the road my guidebook meant for me to be on. No connecting path appeared after 700 meters. No second firebreak came for me to cross. No grassy clearing with yalaks, or watertroughs, at which to refill my water bottle.

I kept walking up a pine-covered slope and reemerged onto asphalt. Miraculously, a taxi passed me right at that moment – the only car I would see all day. The driver told me the asphalt would not lead to the village of Sariçam I was aiming for, but that another unpaved forest road would, which could be found on the left at the top of the hill. To further make his point, he brought his hands together in an upside-down V to suggest the summit of a mountain.

I scribbled all this down in my notebook.

Top of the hill!

On the left!

Got it!

What the driver failed to mention – or the more likely case is that he did and I just didn’t catch it – was that by taking this road, I was entering a maze-like network of forest roads, fanning out in every direction across the mountain. Not a couple hundred meters after leaving the asphalt, I came to a four-way crossroads. And then a fork, and then a three-way junction, and then another fork.

I wanted a neon sign suitable for Las Vegas’ main drag screaming, THIS WAY TO SIMAV >>>; instead, I got one identical stretch of pine forest after another. And so I did what I have done a few other times on this path, when there has been not a single soul in the world to ask for help and the directions in my guidebook are rendered all but meaningless because of how severely I’ve messed things up:

I took out my compass.

It cost me just $7 in an outdoors shop in Istanbul, and though the sales associate had guaranteed it was “military grade,” I can’t say I expected to use it much on the trail. Rather, it was more of a fun, just-for-the-heck-of-it purchase. That morning in Istanbul, my biggest concern had been finding appropriate pants to wear on the hike. Priorities, right?

But in the forests above Şaphane, my compass suddenly mattered far more to me than my flashy new rain-and-windproof trousers. I knew that Simav lay northwest, and so that would be how I made a decision at each fork and crossroads. I didn’t care if it meant I bypassed Sariçam; I simply wanted to emerge from the forest and not be miles out of my way from Simav. When one path I chose began winding east, I backtracked and went the other way, and when that path began winding southwest, I took a narrow track through the woods, simply because the needle on my compass said it led northwest. This went on for hours.

And as I shuffled through a thick layer of pine needles and fallen leaves, praying only that I would make it to the valley before nightfall, I kept looking down at the little object in my hand.

Never was I so grateful to have spent seven dollars.

My blessed compass got me through. After five hours in the forest (two of which were spent sketching, so perhaps that’s more like three?), I emerged into tussocky grassland right at sunset, descended the valley, and stumbled across a family who invited me to stay in their home for the night. I then woke up yesterday morning and began my last day of walking.

I’ll be honest with you, my friends, and confess I stuck to the asphalt, eager as I was to reach Simav. Even still, the highway led through scenic countryside framed by mountains – mountains I was quite happy to not be traversing. While a steady stream of passing cars made for less atmospheric walking than the forest, it was nice for a change to actually know where the path was leading.

At 5pm, I asked a truck driver broke down on the side of the road how many kilometers to Simav.

Yakın,” he said. Close.

It was the first time in twenty-two days that someone had told me a destination was near, and hearing it about my final destination no less almost brought me to tears. My shoulders burned and an indistinct pain had been flaring up in the center of my left foot all day, but I was close! Much too close to stop for the night.

I set my sights on a mosque with two minarets, beautifully silhouetted in the afterglow of that night’s sunset, and when I reached it and realized I was still far from the city center, I kept walking. After another twenty minutes, I stopped in a supermarket to make sure I had actually reached Simav proper, and then checked into the first hotel I came across.

Twenty-two days and 350 kilometers later, I had made it.

After walking part of the Camino de Santiago in northwest Spain and completing the 88-Temple Circuit on Shodoshima Island in Japan, the Evliya Çelebi Way makes for my third pilgrimage – pilgrimage being defined in my books as any walking adventure where you come seeking to journey through both inner and outer worlds. Where you come, as Ruth Prawer Jhabvala writes of one of her characters in Out of India, not only for a change, but to be changed.

And what keeps drawing me back to this particular kind of journey is the way it becomes an allegory for life. You reach the end and put down the pilgrim’s staff and are left asking, “Now what?” but what is next is that you return to your normal life – the life that doesn’t find you walking several hours a day, shoulders burning beneath an oversized backpack – with a well of moments and experiences to help you understand it better, to help you navigate its twists and turns more assuredly.

What’s more is that you return with a little more confidence in your own ability to navigate. You got yourself to the cathedral in Santiago or to the 88th temple or simply to a hotel and hot shower in Simav, and the courage that enabled you to do so – courage being not bravery, but merely continuing to walk even in your most un-brave moments – will remain with you through other less-tangible journeys in life.

Journeys where the path you’re walking on isn’t quite so literal.

That same courage will get you through a move to a new city, or to a place of peace after a break-up, or to the point where you quit a job that isn’t fulfilling to pursue one that is.

How?

Exactly as it got you to Santiago, Shodoshima, or Simav.

Mile by mile, step by step.

Thinking back to my trusty compass and to how it was only by the point of its silver needle that I made it to Simav, what I want to say next I’m going to try and say in the least cheesy way possible: I think we have a compass in life, too – whether we want to call it our heart or our gut or as my friend Kim once described it, the voice inside us.

And I think we intrinsically know when we’re walking in a direction not in tune with where our compass is pointing. When we need to leave the path we’re on because it isn’t the right or best path for us, and plunge blindly into the forest.

In my own case, each of these pilgrimages has found me walking through a transition – walking away from a particular path in life.

On the Camino, I had just decided to leave a fairly stable life in London and return to India to devote more time to writing.

On the 88-Temple Circuit, I had decided to leave India and the many projects I became involved in there, which gave me a reason for being in the country but were not necessarily getting me closer to my dreams, for a more nomadic existence – or what I like to call voluntary homelessness.

And here in rural Anatolia, I have been gearing up to put a few roots down next year to work on my book, slowly understanding – as my friend Hannah recently put it so perfectly – that a little stillness goes a long way for art and creativity.

During my lowest moments on the Evliya Çelebi Way, I would fume at my guidebook, officially over the lack of signposts and way-marking on the trail. “I came here to walk, not learn how to navigate!” I’d yell out to the pines, to the lone lizard darting across a rock, to whoever or whatever would listen.

But from the comfort of my Simav hotel room tonight, I believe I’ll be leaving Turkey grateful for this unexpected lesson in navigation – lessons from shepherds in the woods and clarinet-playing bakkal owners, and others that have still yet to reveal themselves.

All I know today is this:

We have to trust that the direction our compass is pointing in – whether what lies ahead is a less defined path, or perhaps there’s no path at all – is worth taking.

Always.

29 Comments

  • I always find pine forests feel dark and ominous – I think it may be that compared to deciduous forests they do not support the range of bird and insect life so they’re devoid of that buzz of life – I shuddered a little and felt for you facing so many forks in your road there!

    I love your observation – “courage being not bravery, but merely continuing to walk even in your most un-brave moments” – even wobbly courage is courage!

    Congratulations on making it to the end of ‘this’ journey 🙂

    • Linda, I can’t thank you enough for putting into words what I kept sensing along this journey…I hadn’t realized that fact about pine forests, but it explains so much! There was definitely a switch during the journey when the forests became largely pine, and I found myself rushing through them because of how ominous they felt. The day I wrote about here, I didn’t come across a single person or animal all day, and that was far too quiet for my liking! So thank you for that 🙂

      And thank you as well for your congrats!!

      PS – Email coming your way soon…I’m back home in the States next week and am excited to begin catch up on long-neglected things 🙂

  • Hey!
    Congrats you made it! That is a wonderful piece of writing.
    Hah Very topical too. Loved reading it. 🙂 Nx

    • Thanks so much, my friend! And yes, I thought you might like this one 🙂 Can’t wait to catch up soon once I’m back in the States next week!

  • Congratulations! You were brave to take on this journey. Getting lost is inevitable (in life too, I suppose) and I’m glad you came out happy and fulfilled at the end. Lovely photos.

    • Thank you! I’m very grateful to you for following along these last few weeks, and am glad you enjoyed the stories and photos…the Way was definitely a delight to photograph, even when lost 🙂

  • Congratulations my dear! I love the message you wove throughout this post, and the many lessons that emerged from your journey. I too believe we all have this inner compass that, should we find the courage to step out towards the direction it points, will lead us right to where we need to be, no matter how surprising that place might initially seem. I look forward to following the rest of your journey, wherever that may take you x

    • Thank you so much, lovely! Your sweet words of support always mean the world to me, and I think your and Lee’s journey this past year is perfect proof of trusting your compass. I love that France was nowhere on your minds when you first set out to travel, but it has become the perfect next step for you both. Now, if only I can get there myself soon 🙂 Sending lots of love your way! xx

  • Congratulations! And thanks for taking us along with you via your vivid descriptions and beautiful photos. I really enjoyed reading your posts!

    • Thank you, Jen! I’m thrilled to hear you enjoyed following along this journey – I really appreciate you reading and hope you might be inspired to walk the Way yourself one day!

  • This was beautifully written and came to me just at the right moment. Thank you…and congratulations on achieving this milestone in your own journey. It helps to remember that sometimes it’s the smallest things (like you inexpensive compass) that make the biggest difference.

    Now, to remain focused on the journey ahead and enjoy the detours that lead down rugged and rough pathways 😉

    p.s. That mosque is gorgeous!

    • Thank you, Gayla! I’m so glad to hear that this post resonated with you. I think learning to enjoy the detours was absolutely the biggest lesson of this journey for me 🙂 I have never been so lost before, but every time something would happen – whether it be a memorable encounter or a beautiful sunset – that I wouldn’t have experienced if I hadn’t been wandering in the woods, so I gradually grew more and more accepting of it!

      And yes, I’m definitely grateful to have glimpsed that mosque…I only wish I’d had time to sketch it, too 😉

  • Yay! Congratulations of completing yet another pilgrimage! I’ve followed you since you started – I felt the frustrations when you got lost, the gratitude when you found your way, the awe at the kindness of strangers, and the epiphany as you slowly understood what a “journey” actually means. Thank you for taking me along for the ride 🙂

    • And thank YOU for taking the time to come along on the ride, Pauline! That means so much to me, and I know how important pilgrimages are to you and your own journey through the world. Hope all is well in Toronto 🙂

  • Wow. You are so brVe candace. I would have been very scared. But then, you are rather fearless arent you?

    • Hello, my lovely friend! It is wonderful to hear from you. And trust me – I was scared countless times throughout this journey…I actually spent a lot of time today brainstorming a story about just how big a role my fear played on this trip. I’ll be sure to share it with you once I write it 🙂 How are things on your island home??

  • I am so glad for you, Candace. Very happy for you that you got that compass and you are now safe and sound. I must imagine it must have been tough at that point! But as the saying goes, when the going gets tough, the tough gets tougher and you are an exemplary example!

    Mile by mile, step by step – yes I did that once – moving myself from one country to another. It take a lot of courage to do that and you are absolutely right about the internal compass. We need to know the real value of what we are doing and deep down we know it’s worth it, that’s why we are doing it. And I think there is a reason why you are traipsing through the unknowns – because at least there is a tangible benefit – you can feel yourself becoming more confident with each hurdle. However in life, it takes a long time for us to realise if our efforts were all worth it.

    Keep going for your dreams, your internal compass will guide you in the days to come 🙂

  • That was AMAZING. Thank you so much for sharing, Candace. And I am so happy for you! What an accomplishment! And I just loved seeing the last pic of you holding up your backpack. Way to go. I loved reading about your lessons and adventures. They are so inspiring.

  • I absolutely agree. It’s hard to navigate at times when things and thoughts get in our way or we’re just choosing not to look at what’s right in front of us. Thank you for sharing these experiences.

    • You’re so right, Carmel – that was definitely another thing this trek taught me. There were times when I was so focused on following the guidebook’s directions, that I actually over-thought it and missed where I was supposed to turn. There’s a lot to be said for staying present and taking in what’s right in front of us 🙂 Hope all is well in Laos!

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