The Stick

Yesterday I found a perfect stick to be my walking pole. On the Portuegese Camino I am not riding a bike, dad and I are walking with Mum, Grace, Penny and Paul.

My walking stick is a branch from a eucalyptus tree. It is a good height not to tall and not to small.

This morning I wrote my name on the stick. I drew a picture of me.

At the albergues there is always a stick container or bucket or stand for pilgrims to put their sticks in.

Lots of people have walking sticks. Some use two and some use one. Penny stick has a rubber plugs on the end of it to stop the loud clicking sounds on the road and paths.

Grace told me she saw a man with apples on the end of his sticks to make them quiet on the road.

 

You need to be careful mum said not to hit people with the walking stick as they pass you on the path.

When we were riding our bikes it was sometimes hard to pass people with their sticks poking out. One man had his poking out to the side and I had to ride out to the edge to get around him.

I am going to use my stick each day to Santiago and leave it in the pile of sticks at the pilgram office.

 

By Finn