When Jennifer Andrewes felt a tremor in her left hand, she simply put it down to the stress of working long hours as a communications manager.
“I’d just started a new job with a large team and lots of responsibility, so I thought it was just job-related anxiety,” recalls the 53-year-old.
Jennifer’s GP prescribed beta blockers, which she took for a year. But when they didn’t help, the mother of three was referred to a neurologist, who diagnosed her with a case of early-onset Parkinson’s disease, an incurable degenerative brain condition that affects muscle control.
“I always thought Parkinson’s was an old man’s disease!” she admits. “But around five to 15% of people with Parkinson’s develop it before the age of 50.”
What shocked Jennifer was the information that she probably only had five years of able-bodied movement left.
That was in 2020, but the plucky Wellingtonian has proved doctors wrong. She has walked thousands of kilometres across France since her diagnosis.
“I’m on 15 pills a day and know that one day I won’t be able to walk. But while I can, exercise is actually great for Parkinson’s because although the tremor is still there, when I’m walking, things such as muscle fatigue, brain fog and headaches fall by the wayside.”
Walking the Camino de Santiago, a series of ancient European paths that end in Spain, has always been on Jennifer’s bucket list.
“But I didn’t want to do the classic Spanish pilgrimage that most people do. I didn’t fancy walking with hundreds of people each day,” she tells. “I discovered there’s a whole network of Camino paths across Europe, including at least four across France.”
That appealed to Jennifer, a self-confessed Francophile who’d learned the language at an early age thanks to her father, who taught French at the University of Otago. She’d also visited France often, including during a six-year OE in Wales. In 2014, Jennifer and her civil servant husband Stephen Christie bought a holiday home in south-west France. They visit it as much as possible.
As the borders opened after Covid, Jennifer took six weeks off work to walk 800km across France with a friend. Then, she returned a year later to walk another route of 1000km mainly on her own.
“I was seeking healing, clarity and joy,” she explains. “I wanted to experiment with the mental health benefits of dropping all of the daily demands and stresses of life, of carrying only what I needed to survive and to also focus on just being.”
Although she admits she’s “extremely lucky” not to have found herself in any danger, Jennifer says walking around 35km a day, often on her own in the middle of nowhere, did have its share of challenges.
“I’d have days where I’d become lost or it was hot and I was carrying a heavy pack, but I had to walk an extra 5km because I’d gone off track. Or I’d get to a town and nothing was open, so I’d go to bed hungry.
“Being on your own for long stretches of time can sometimes be lonely. The experience has taught me that no one is going to come and save me. However, if I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, eventually things will work out. That’s actually part of the adventure for me and what makes doing these walks so addictive.”
It also taught Jennifer how to live with less.
“I had one change of clothes for four months!” she tells. “I realised that I don’t need much. Since getting home, I’ve been busy getting rid of possessions and clothes I no longer need, which has been liberating.”
Having always journalled, Jennifer turned her walking diaries into her second book, A Will And A Way. Her first book, Parallel Lives, was about buying a holiday home in France.
“I wanted to use the writing to understand my own experience, as well as to inspire and inform others. I’ve given up work to focus full-time on walking and writing while I still can.”
Last year, Jennifer spent 11 days walking 2500km across France. This year, she will return to spend another two months walking the Camino. “The plan is to turn those walks into two more books,” she tells.
Although Jennifer’s realistic about her condition, she’s making the most of the time she has available.
“Getting Parkinson’s has taught me that you can’t let anyone else dictate how your story goes,” she says. “I’m the one in control of my narrative, so when my neurologist told me I wouldn’t be able-bodied for long, I refused to accept that.
“Sometimes things might take me longer to do and they might take more out of me, but I now know that life is too short not to follow my dreams.”
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