Journey into the Anthropocene: Reflections on Coffee, Climate Change, and the Camino

Even for someone like me, who tries to get away from the news and take time to reflect while walking the ancient pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, it's hard to miss the extreme number of extreme weather events worldwide. I left Canada while the forests were burning at an unprecedented scale and arrived in Madrid at the same time when the smoke of these Canadian wildfires had also reached Spain. 

Torrential rain and flooding are reported in South Korea, Russia, India, and many other countries. As an example, not far from here: you may have seen people desperately trying to escape from the roofs of their cars while being pulled in a sudden flood in the nearby city of Zaragoza. 

Did I forget to mention the disaster near you? That is because too many climate-related disasters are taking place worldwide after years of ignoring the warnings of the world's best climate scientists. 

I am now in Spain, where, according to official data, 74% of the territory is at risk of desertification. It is a country where heat has become more deadly. This week, a study concluded that over 60,000 people died last year in Europe from the summer heat. Spain was among the countries hardest hit.

My morning at 8:00 a.m.

And in stark contrast to this global disaster that too few people are alarmed about, I continued my journey where I post every day what I see at precisely 8:00 a.m., this time with a slight change of publishing in The Planet newsletter instead of on my Patreon site (where you can still read about all other mornings here, for instance this one of yesterday).

So today, at precisely 8:00 a.m., I find myself seated at the Plaza Mayor of Carrión de los Condes, sipping on a steaming cup of coffee while contemplating the unbearable contrast between the good life many of us lead and the tragedy of living on an ever hotter planet.

This charming town pulses with life as the day awakens, offering a brief respite from the sweltering heat. This day will be another metaphor for life in the 21st century: briefly enjoying all that life has to offer while knowing that this relaxed morning life on the terrace won't last. Soon the heat will drive me inside.

But that's for the hours or years ahead of us. Because right now, I will do nothing but enjoy the sweet pleasure of experiencing that first sip in the very heart of this pretty town, where no car has dared disrupt its charm since I settled here some twenty minutes ago.

Soon the heating will be switched on when our troubled planet turns Europe into the full spotlight of the sun to roast us another day under the warmth-capturing carbon blanket we created high above us. When I went to sleep, it was still a blistering 30 Celsius outside (86 F), significantly cooler than the afternoon heat I had walked through earlier and colder than the room I had found to sleep in close to the Plaza Mayor. 

The essence of life in the Anthropocene

But this cool morning, from the comfort of my chair, I capture a snapshot at precisely 8 o'clock without even making the small effort of standing up or moving my chair. This photograph encapsulates the essence of life in the Anthropocene, an era where we, as humans, hold both power and responsibility. It's a dichotomy where we revel in the magnificence of existence, indulging in the splendor of history and culture while grappling with our limitations in controlling the very climate that shapes our destinies. 

Even more maddening is that we know how to control the climate; we have the technology and the financial means. It's the tragedy of an announced death, and nobody is capable or willing to make the efforts needed to ensure that decades from now, our children can enjoy that coffee at the Plaza Mayor in the morning chill while enjoying the plane trees and the birds singing.

Many struggle on the Camino, and so do I. But I seem to fall outside the usual categories of job loss, lost love, or a loss of health. Instead, I try to navigate the ever-widening chasm between the beauty we behold and the ever-encroaching devastation born from the planetary-scale time bomb we knowingly but unintentionally triggered. 

We live in an age where the potential for a genuinely remarkable existence coexists with the ever-increasing threats that loom over our fragile planet. And that awareness changes the view of this beautiful 8:00 a.m. picture, the taste of the first sip of my coffee, and the joy of sitting at this quiet historic square. 

Planet loss

So let me add 'planet loss' to that list of pilgrim pains to be discussed while the guitar gently plays in the warm Meseta evenings and fellow travelers share their hopes and fears.

Thus the vibe of charming Carrión de los Condes, known among pilgrims as the town of the singing nuns, serves as a microcosm, exemplifying the profound paradox of our existence. It is within these narrow streets, amid the ebb and flow of locals and pilgrims that pass through this town, where I find the inspiration to write. 

Each corner turned brings a discovery, the joy of finding a hidden gem, while each hour that passes sees the heat rising as a warning about the darker picture of our future existence. Before my first coffee, I stood before the impressive 12th-century Romanesque facade, wondering about well-preserved sculptured doom predictions, as seen in the next photo. Pilgrims who walked here 800 years ago must have marveled at this sight and may have had sleepless nights about the predictions this sculpture may hold for a scary future that was once far away but so much nearer now.

I may have the impression to be a pilgrim with a different burden to carry, but this struggle is not mine alone. It is ours; it is a collective responsibility to reconcile the disparities between the privileged and the deprived, bridge the gap that separates us, and find more equality among the people and a harmonious equilibrium between humanity and nature. 

The bounty of this abundant planet must be shared, and the voice of reason must prevail. I wrote last year that I hoped that the world's leaders would one day fill their backpacks and join together on a 40-day pilgrimage to reason, sharing joy and hardships and finding time to talk about the essence of life. Whatever the pilgrims who walk here in Spain seek to find, it is a transformative journey for each of them, and what more can we ask of the world's leaders to help each other towards a better world for all of us. I ended that article with a John Lennon quote, "You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one."

Yes, it's a dream, but here, at the Plaza Mayor of his small Spanish town that you most likely never heard of, life feels like a dream. The world awakens around me, and I am reminded of the profound urgency that surrounds us now that I feel the temperature rise, as it is so often the weather that reminds me of the climate. 

I love to witness the rituals of this morning, taste my second cafe con leche, and watch the symphony of life echoing through Carrión's narrow streets. The birds still sing, hidden in the green leaves of the trees on the square. They fuel my resolve as they call to take collective action and protect the fragile ecosystem that sustains us all.

Walking a different path on the same Camino

And that is my Camino. Like the other pilgrims, I'm not without my burden and, like other seekers, would welcome transformation. But I walk a different path in the lucky position of not carrying any of the usual burdens of fellow pilgims. I have embarked on a pilgrimage where each step is an impassioned declaration of my commitment to preserving the precious wonders of our shared world. It's a path that I can follow with your help, that I receive in many ways, and where I am happy to collaborate with Swiss Re to highlight the impact of climate change and the collective need for implementing solutions together.

This morning, the Camino stretches before me, beckoning me to walk again as I carry the weight of this awareness on my shoulders, but I will pass for today and find a way to drive to the tiny hamlet of Moratinos. As many experts advise, I must stay out of the heat today; yesterday's overdose of heat needs some time to wane from my body and brain. And I also need time to reflect, write, talk, and sleep; it's a recovery day.

When no editing is needed: this sums up yesterday's walk: add lots of heat, a hot, dry wind like dozens of hair dryers pointed at you, and many hours of this landscape waiting to be conquered.

I often write my Patreon posts at 8:00 a.m. on my iPhone in a cafe. I use Patreon for anything too short, personal, or still too roughly cut for the Planet Newsletter. The 8 o'clock picture without much text is an excellent example of what I share on Patreon. But in the past week, it has grown and matured, and today's writing seems to have crossed to bridge to the kind of longer articles that I write for The Planet newsletter. I often photoshop my photos there, and the newsletters require a desk, time, and more dedication. Hence my day off from walking is a decision that resulted in the article you are reading now being more polished than a Patreon post and, thus, posted in this newsletter. (You can follow me on Patreon here, it's a small and personal community).

Let's keep our heads cool, and I fervently hope we can rise to meet the challenges ahead, creating a future where balance, wisdom, and sustainability reign. And with that, I will go out into Carrión de los Condes one more time before heading for my hostel the next night in Moratinos. In minutes, I will return to the terrasse where my morning began but where the heat had driven me inside about an hour ago.  

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