This phrase, “the Camino provides,” is well-known to any pilgrim/peregrino. Let me count thine ways…
Friendship
The Camino Cast of Characters I met along The Way made the journey 1,000 times more memorable. Each of us was at some type of crossroad in life, figuring out our next steps, in many ways healing from something, and working up the courage for what life had in store next.
My advice? If you’re going to do the Camino, make sure you’re on it for at least two weeks. In those first few days, you get to know fellow pilgrims, and while you may see them only a few times at first, over the course of two, three, or four weeks, depending on daily stages, you’ll run into those same pilgrims again.
The more touchpoints you have, the higher the likelihood you will interact, build a relationship, and become friends. Friends who build a bond based on suffering, growth, and unique experiences that only the Camino can provide.
Life Lessons
In the days after my pilgrimage ended, I felt a bit of emptiness in my soul. I saw others continuing onwards to Finesterra and the sea (historically considered the westernmost point of the known world by the Romans and a significant endpoint for pilgrims). The thought crossed my mind that I could literally just keep doing this for the rest of my life. Humans aren’t meant to be sedentary in the way we’ve become. The body adapts to daily long-distance walking, your feet adapt, and it is no longer painful. You never know any of this until you push yourself to do it. Humans’ natural state is movement. I now know what I’ll be doing when I finally “retire” from this rat race.
Optimism and Hope for Humanity
Diverse in age, culture, gender, orientation, privelege, and belief, my daily interactions with fellow pilgrims showcased humanity at its best; helpful, working together when needed, encouraging each other through the tough stretches (both mental and physical), and acknowledging those trials and tribulations with a smile, a nod of the head, direct eye contact, and the words, “Buen Camino!”
Mission and Purpose
I will never look at a yellow arrow in the same way again. If I see a yellow arrow anywhere, I’m going to follow it. That’s what the Camino has taught me.
Routine
The Camino becomes a routine when you stay at Albergues with fellow pilgrims. Here’s a sampling of what that entails:
Wake up between 6:00 and 7:30 a.m., depending on how loud other people are in their morning packing, whether you want to start early, etc. No need for an alarm.
Have an albergue breakfast (usually cheap, watered-down coffee, hopefully milk, and if you’re lucky, you’ll get an egg)
By no later than 8:30, you’re on the trail, following the yellow arrows.
While on that trail, you take a break every 2-3 hours for 15 mins. Around 3 hours in, maybe you’ll have a coffee.
Your pace, how far you go, and whether you stop depend on your destination that day
By mid-afternoon, you arrive at the next albergue, and you’re tired and sweaty and smelly. Hopefully, they’ll let you in by 2-3 p.m. The first thing you do is shower, then wash your dirty clothes, and hope the sun is out so they will be air-dried by tomorrow.
Later afternoon, if you misjudge the day’s distance, or start later, here are things that may happen on longer, 30 km+ walks: 1) Beast Mode: that last hour or two before you finish for the day, and you just wanna power through and be done. The quickest way to do this is to get out the sticks, and 2) Meltdowns: this happens when it’s too hot, you’ve overshot your load going farther than you should have, or you get lost because markings are incorrect, or you missed a sign.
Later afternoon/evening? Make your own dinner from a grocery store that’s hopefully nearby (so you don’t have walk more), or you take the local pilgrim meal at the albergue (easier because it requires not thinking/making more decisions, you just sit and the food is provided and no movement is required), or you go out and find a pilgrim meal at a restaurant (if one exists).
By 9-10:30 p.m. (at the latest), you are in bed, hopefully using an eye mask and earplugs to drown out the sound and light.
By 10:30-11:30 p.m., you are asleep (Ed. Note: I tried to read before sleeping multiple times, and it’s a lost cause because I’m too exhausted and nodding off 2-3 pages in).
If you’re lucky, you’ll sleep well. All things being equal, there will be mild sleep deprivation on the regular. If you’re really unlucky, you’ll be next to one of the snorers (Ed. note: you’d be surprised by the noises some humans can make while sleeping).
Rinse and repeat.
Nature Therapy
A full brainwashing in the best way possible. On the Norte, stunning seaside views, with afternoon walks post-lunch, where you begin to tire, and the last miles are mostly on the side of a road somewhere, but you power through to finish for the day.
On the Primitivo, rain, mountains, lush greenery everywhere, and more mud and jungle green. On all paths of The Way, sweat, grit, dirt, mud, sun, sand, water, and everything in between that life has to offer when you head outside.
Improved Health
I am likely in the best shape of my life these days. My feet, after the first few weeks and the first (and only) round of blisters, have toughened up substantially. I can probably walk 30-40 km a day, no sweat, and there’s something pretty rewarding to that awareness.
Body Weight Redistribution
I have always been tall and lanky, but after walking for more than a month, most of my muscles are now in the lower half of my body. Pecs withered, abs lean, triceps from walking sticks solid.
Sleep Deprivation
You’ll come up with endless strategies on how to avoid the sleep apnea snorers.
Raw Emotion
Almost every day, I was moved to tears. Not always sad tears either. Just…waves of emotion. It was intense and beautiful.
Manners and Patience
An understanding that, oftentimes, unsolicited advice is unwarranted. The Camino helps one grow as an individual, helps one reflect, and helps one give oneself some grace.
Freedom
To choose your own adventure while still staying on some variation of a linear path, to put your troubles behind you, and to move forward towards some variation of a new life.
Presence
This was one of the most consistent, longest-lasting periods of daily, full living of life in the present. It wasn’t carefree, but your concerns were based on that day, not that week, that month, or that year. It was like reverting to some base period of childhood, playing in nature.
Reflection
I frequently chatted with other pilgrims along the way, and liberally used my Bluetooth headphones to jam to music (playlist below) and devour tons of podcasts.
Aside from these times, you will be up in your head, with thoughts about your place in the world and life in general.
Libations
In so many forms, and depending on the time of day, but always keeping a full bottle of water throughout, constantly. In the morning, watered-down coffee and delicious coffee, depending on the source.
By mid-day lunch, likely a glass (or two) of wine (Ed. Note: Spaniards love their afternoon siesta post-wine).
For the evening, maybe a bottle of sidrah (how I love thee!), or a refreshing cerveza, or a crisp white wine.
Sustenance
Carbs galore, as well as endless processed cheeses, meats, white breads, and fried eggs for those low-cost albergue breakfasts and pilgrim-priced mid-day meals.
On the flip side, a deep appreciation for the various regional dishes that Spain has on offer each evening (and you’ll only scratch the surface).
A New Job
I set out on this pilgrimage afraid of the future, what it held, and where I belonged within it. I ended it hopeful of a new life, no longer unemployed, bringing me a new sense of self-worth and a position related to my passion for building a more sustainable food system. The gratitude I feel in obtaining this position while on the Camino runs deep.
Do the Camino. Don’t Doubt Your Ability
In the days after my pilgrimage ended, I felt a deep sense of emptiness and loss of purpose. I saw others continuing on to Finesterra and the sea. I wished longingly I could do the same. To never stop walking. To never stop exploring.
The Camino Changed Me
I tend to travel a lot. I’ve been around the world, lived on four continents, and seen many places, peoples, and cultures. I didn’t think the Camino would affect me as much as it has. For months after, and to this day, I’ve maintained a deep longing for The Way, hell, for any path outdoors, any movement outside, anywhere. It has changed my lifestyle, how I exercise to maintain my mental and physical health, what I value, who I am, and the person I want to be. The experience of awe and full presence that the Camino granted me each day is perhaps the most important gift of all.
“Above all, do not lose your desire to walk: Every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness; I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it.”
In early April 2025, I was three months into unexpected unemployment, still quite bitter about the slow dismantling of USAID, and still processing the death of a dream I’d worked towards for half a decade. I was in the midst of my second long-term job search in less than two years, with self-confidence, self-worth, and hope for a better tomorrow diminishing daily. I found myself sitting in front of my computer, staring at LinkedIn, refreshing the browser, attempting to manifest relevant roles. Mentally, I was somewhere between the anger and depression stages of grief. The only thing that provided me with a modicum of sanity was outdoor movement via skiing, hiking, and biking. Kudos to Colorado para las montañas.
Around this time, the seeds of The Camino were implanted in my stubborn skull. After conducting some research (Ed. Note: thanks, Oracle), it became apparent I could complete this 500+ kilometer pilgrimage across Spain while still job searching and maintaining a minimal budget. Two weeks later, by way of airplane (Denver>London>Zurich>Madrid), midnight bus (Madrid > San Sebastian), and dawn train (San Sebastian > Irun), my Camino began. What follows is a first-person account of that journey, including the quirky cast of characters I met along The Way, as well as the lessons learned, the awe attained, and the gratitude gained, that to this day, remain.
“I was disappointed in myself for not being tough enough to take the flak, disappointed and ashamed. But as pilgrims must discover if they are to complete their quest, we are led to truth by our weaknesses as well as our strengths.”
May 11 (Sunday): Irun to San Sebastian (30.5 km/19 m): The hike started beautifully, but I’m hitting a wall. I’m hungry, my feet are sore, I know I smell, I haven’t showered since I left Denver, and that’s disgusting. It has been a rather dead crowd of actual pilgrims so far, yet I suspect that will change after the tourist areas (Ed. Note: I actually met Jaime of Manchester this evening).
May 12: San Sebastian > Zarautz (22.53 km, 13.6 m): There are two beaches in San Sebastian, and looking at the western beach as the sun hits this morning, it’s like it was made for humans; a picture-perfect postcard for humanity. It’s hard to leave this place… It’s 8:37 a.m., and now that I’m well rested, I don’t want to go. I want to spend another day here on the beach.
Carrying my bag with me, while hard, wasn’t as tough as day one without the bag, likely because I had sleep on my side. I’m grateful for this weather, these damned beautiful bluebird days.
May 13: Zarautz > Deba (29.5 km, 18.3 m): This coastal route is stunning and quite tough at the end. Had a few moments where my temper broke slightly (Ed. Note: I got lost). Many ups and downs, but the geological flysch is one of a kind.
It was here that I first met Loris, a mid-60s Italian man completing what I suspect was a walk of grief and grace. Despite our language gap, we’d frequently run into each other throughout our pilgrimage, and he always held a kind smile.
Also first met Myriam, the French girl who saved me at the end with water; she’s now my Water Savior. We stumbled our way down cobblestones into Deba. Have a job interview tomorrow afternoon. This will occupy my mind until it’s resolved.
May 14: Deba > Markina-Xemein (26 km, 16 m): Finally going inland. Muggier, greener, more hills, and a punishing descent into Markina. Each day, people go at their own pace and rest when they want. Sometimes with others and sometimes not. There’s no pressure either way. I’m getting into a bit of a groove. The true beauty of the day was meeting so many lovely people walking at the same stage and pace. You start to connect when you all spend a night in the same place. That connection happened today over dinner. There were Jaime the ginger, Sarah the naughty (both from the UK), and Laila the young from Berkeley, CA. My heart is full. Very grateful. As for the interview? I didn’t get the job.
May 15: Markina-Xemein > Pozueta Auzoa (32.6 km, 20.3 m): The morning started with a little Spanish nazi waking up everyone in the public albergue at 7 a.m., blasting music. Every proprietor has their routine, but I’ll never, ever forget waking up to this jam.
I spent the day walking and conversing with Laila about politics in the USA and what life is like from her perspective/generation.
It’s 10 p.m., and I’m now in a tent, outside in Northern Spain. It’s chilly, and there’s a solid chance of rain. My belly is warmed by a bottle of sidra shared with Myriam. I walked 30+ km today. My longest day so far.
May 16: Pozueta Auzoa > Bilbao (32.51 km, 20.2 m): All of yesterday and today, this morning, is MUD. Muchas Barro. A day that started with mud (which I’ve stopped giving two fucks about marching through), and ended with sunshine and entering Bilbao. Walking into this city is a shock. You’re in the first big city since San Sebastian, and it’s intense, but also, insanely beautiful. The vibes and colors immediately enchanted me. I had no expectations about this city, and it blew me away.
May 17: Bilbao Rest Day: My rest day consisted of a free walking tour (so much for rest!) that culminated in the best pinxtos of my life at the central market.
Bilbao has become one of my favorite cities I’ve visited. Stress? Finding lodging for upcoming interviews that also have fast, reliable internet.
Week Two: Camino del Norte: Physical Acclimation
May 18 (Sunday): Bilbao > Santullan (37.1 km, 23 m): Slightly hungover, and the crew I walked with before is four sheets scattered to the wind; some are staying for another rest day. On The Way, if you take one rest day, you’ll want to take more, and you get off track. I carry the weight of a troubled nation on my shoulders (or maybe it’s just my heavy bag). My right knee hurts in the same way it does after a long bike ride, and my left foot has a potential blister forming.
Had a great chat with Caroline from Germany (who saved my sanity along that bland bike path), took a dip in the sea, and continued onwards. After stunning seaside views, the last few hours, mostly on the side of the road, were rather rough.
May 19: Santullan > Laredo (40.7 km, 25.3 m): Mid-morning, I’m having one of those moments where I’m not in the present, I’m thinking about the destination more than the journey. Some of this is realizing that the distance today is 10 km more than planned, which sucks because I thought today would be easier than yesterday, but the point of the Camino is not the arrival, it’s the doing. It’s also due to stress about applying for jobs I should have applied for a few days back.
Mid-afternoon, the houses between Castro Urdiales and Laredo are stunningly beautiful and unique (Ed. Note: Soon after this, I followed yellow arrows that led me astray, and I had a meltdown).
I’m so damned grateful for this journey and realizing what I’m capable of physically.
May 20: Laredo > Guemes (34.8 km, 21.6 m): Awoke refreshed (despite sleeping in a full, musty dorm with a middle-aged, friendly Hungarian family). A solid breakfast provided by nuns in the monastery.
A morning walk along the beach with a new crew from the past few days, including Rachel, Phillip, Mario, and Julien, the unemployed (we bonded over this) filmmaker from France. A ferry across the river channel, more beach walks, and thinking about how much has happened this year, I got emotional on the beach. The beach is also beautiful.
Every day here is an experience of awe. You crave it and live off of it. I also cried because of the idea that I could come back to Colorado with a job. Started to dream a bit. Decided to take a dip in the frigid sea to refresh my soul. Twas splendid.
Stayed at Ernesto’s famous albergue. It was chill, a lot of outdoor space, very peaceful, just a good vibe overall. The dorm room was also pleasant, not much snoring. My first experience taking dinner with others at an albergue.
May 21: Guemes > Santander (19.5 km, 12 m): A misty morning walk that led to stunning beach views and many wonderful thoughts. One is, as I’ve gotten older and nearing middle age, I have learned to appreciate slowing down. Slow travel. Slow media consumption. Slow, long, meaningful conversations. Slow sex. Slow meals and eating. Another thought as I strolled along the beach before Santander:
“I want to walk that imperfect meandering hard sand line along the beach. That point between where the waves stop and your feet don’t sink too deeply in. Too far in the dryness, and you’re sinking; it’s hard to walk. Too far into the water, and you’re drowning. That meandering hard sand line, that liminal space.”
Post beach, lovely ferry ride to Santander, where I first met Annie from California, also on a journey of discovery. Grateful tomorrow for rest, specifically my own bed in my own room with no one else. One cannot imagine how much I’ve missed this.
May 22: Santander Rest Day: Having the mental capacity to switch between the Camino and focused job research, applications, prep, and interviews is not easy. It’s like living in multiple worlds. In the evening, met up with the original (OG) Camino Crew for dinner and drinks. Sad to say goodbye to Laila, Jaime, and Sarah, but alas, the Camino calls.
May 23: Santander > Santillana Del Mar (53.3 km, 33 m): The coast after Santander is STUNNINGLY BEAUTIFUL (and left me in tears). I will never forget the beauty of the first half of my day, nor the absolute hell of stumbling and limping to finish the second half.
In taking the alternative, coastal route, I’d unwittingly stumbled upon the Costa Quebrada UNESCO Global Geopark, which was described on a local sign as a “feast for the senses.” I couldn’t agree more.
Had a meltdown upon hitting a long, hot stretch next to a gas pipeline, and I lost it. The section seems to be never-ending…fuckin a. The Songs That Make You Smile playlist is saving me.
Dinner at the convent was spectacular. Here I met How-uh from Hong Kong and Ha-Neul from Korea, partners who first met each other on the Camino Frances. It’s also where I saw Theo of America again, the commie anarchist with held some rather intriguing views (Ed. Note: I don’t think the other pilgrims enjoyed our friendly but loud, obnoxious banter).
May 24: Santillana del Mar > San Vicente de la Barquera (35.4 km, 22 m): Not proud of myself for pushing this much. I have four new blisters to show for it. This may cut my trip short and put me down for the count. I need to understand blister care now. Slow down, ole boy. There’s a limit to the human body, and I think I found it. Lesson learned: do not push yourself. It can really set you back. To walk the Camino is to learn the art of blister care. I pray to the Gods these blisters aren’t the death of me (Ed. Note: Thanks to fellow pilgrims who provided me with medical advice and Compeed).
Week Three: Camino del Norte: The Body Adjusts to Routine
May 25 (Sunday): San Vincent de la Barquera > La Franca (24.4 km, 15 m): Today has been a day of finding balance between the Camino, my job search, and relaxing.
May 26: La Franca > Llanes (23.7 km, 15 m): Up until today, I went the whole Camino without rain, but today that day is here.
It has been drizzling and cloudy, and depressing all day long. The wetness never ended, souring my mood, tempered by coastal beauty.
I entered the day full of anxiety about my computer not charging and exhaustion due to sleep deprivation. The mid-afternoon drunken Russian whore at a central coffee shop in Llane didn’t help. She wouldn’t stop pestering me about taking her somewhere while I attempted to fix my laptop.
Now everything has been resolved. I now know what is wrong with my computer, where it can be fixed, and where I can get good internet for upcoming job interviews in Oviedo. In this, the Camino provides, thanks to the advice from a new cast of characters in Manu of Spain, Randall (Randalf) of America, and Jose of Spain. From Annie, calming my nerves, and making a delicious chicken noodle soup.
May 27: Llanes > Ribadesella (41.6 km, 25.8 m): On planning for lodging and rest, you must be spontaneous, but not too spontaneous. If there are albergues and you can reserve them, always try to do so a day or two in advance, but otherwise be willing to adjust your daily stages based on the advice of fellow pilgrims. Whatever plan you thought you had will likely be adjusted, but if you can reserve once you know your plan, do so.
Lessons from this? Always know the full daily kilometers if you choose the alternative/coastal route. Be completely ok with stopping, observing, and enjoying the unique place you are in if you happen to get lost along the way. In essence, savor the journey. I was so dead set on reaching Ribadesella that I allowed my impatience at being lost to get the better of me. Never again.
Evening, grateful for the delectable Asturian dinner I had with Annie. She’s a gem of a human.
May 28: Ribadesella > Priesca (28.8 km, 18 m): My most relevant lesson of this Camino? Patience and living in the present. If you see something beautiful, stop and enjoy it. Don’t be so worried about when you’re going to arrive (Ed Note: unless you have a job interview). You could do 30 km in five hours or do it in 6-7 hours and enjoy the journey, which is much more rewarding.
Today I’m grateful for the albergue here. It’s splendidly perfect. In addition to fresh free veggies from the garden, I made a salad of fish and beans, buying what I needed from the on-site mini-market. This place is run by a lovely human, who was kind enough to give us a tour of the local 10th-century Asturian pre-Romanesque church. You read that right. This church is over 1,000 years old.
New casts of characters? Avi from Portugal and Dae-Won, the mid-40s Korean who looks like he’s 25. I also learned Jose lives in Brussels and speaks 6-7 languages, Randall lives in Spain with a family and a wonderful life there, and the fast-talking, staccato-speaking Manu lives in Cambridge.
May 29: Priesca > Villaviciosa (9.6 km, 6 m): A wonderfully short day. I’m grateful for Annie. She let me use her laptop for my job interview (which I aced), saving me. Fingers crossed this job becomes a reality. I quite think I want it.
May 30-31: Oviedo Rest Days: Had an excellent local Asturian lunch with Annie, then a round of afternoon drinks with Manu. Job apps knocked out. Potentially now awaiting a job offer.
Found out today that my grandma died. I am happy she is at peace and in a better place now, with grandpa. Conflicted about cutting my Camino short to attend the funeral. I am here, on this pilgrimage, and I must finish what I started. That much I know.
Week Four: Switching Inland to the Camino Primitivo
June 1 (Sunday): Oviedo > Grado (26.3 km, 16.3 m): There’s constant rain here at all times, and weather reports point to more of the same. It is beautiful tho. And daily movement makes me a happy and healthy man.
June 2: Grado > Salas (24.7 km, 15.3 m): Wet morning and wet coming days. Just very wet. Solid chat with Annie on the trail.
A bottle of sidra with Julien and the Canadians (Phillip and Mario) post walk. Now, probably having the best albergue dinner on the Camino with white Spanish wine, and a good convo from Charlotte, the 60-something Dutch pilgrim telling me all about her single (emphasized repeatedly), wild, and carefree daughter (Ed. Note: Was she hinting at something?). What a lovely journey. It has been weird getting to know new people on the Primitivo when you’ve been on it for so long, and you already have your crew from the Norte. Especially adjusting to those who just started in Oviedo a few days ago.
June 3: Salas > Tineo (21.6 km, 13.4 m): Third day of wet fucking rain. A day of beauty and a day of mud mixed with the shit and piss of cows.
Moments where I’m sick of it and want to see the sun (60% of the time), then moments when you see a waterfall, or you’re walking on a trail surrounded by greenery and trees and moss, and it’s like a magical LOTR fairy tale.
Beyond the incessant mud mixed with cow shit, there was a ratty ass mangy, one-eyed cat begging on the road, then it went further downhill again, to shit slide territory. It comes, and it goes.
Met these two older French guys and thought I was high and mighty, being out on the Camino for so long, but they had been out for months, starting somewhere near their homes in France back in March. I’ve been bested.
After arriving, the sun came out to play, praise BE!! It was here that I first met the hilarious and jovial Luca from Italy (always on the hunt for weed, women, and a good time), as well as Carla and Sharmin, two youthful Spaniards who caught his gaze (Ed. note: sorry Luca, I couldn’t help it lol).
June 4: Tineo > Colinas de Arriba (23.7 km, 14.7 m): On the Norte, you usually didn’t have to plan where you were going to stay every night. I liked the spontaneity of the Norte, and some of that is lost on the Primitivo. You can’t be spontaneous; you have to book more than two days out. Too many damned (ahem, ‘new’) people on it, public albergues fill before noon, if you don’t book in advance, everything is full, and if there is no space, there is no luck, and you have to sleep outside, or continue to the next option (Ed. Note: This was mostly an issue due to the chokepoint of the Hospitales route, and everyone who planned to take it at the same time due to a forecasted clearing, sunny day).
The albergue here has been absolutely lovely. Good food, views, a peaceful environment, great prices, and surrounded by good people (Ed. Note: this is where I first met the Irishwoman and re-met Carmen, the sweet older Spanish lady who had a crush on Randalf). This afternoon, a weight has begun to be lifted from my soul. I accepted a job!! One day at a time, no more job searching, thank the gods!
June 5: Colinas de Arriba > La Mesa (25.6 km, 16 m): The Hospitales route. What a goddamned stunning day. This hike ranks among the most beautiful in terms of sheer beauty.
Towards the end, the place I thought I booked wasn’t booked (completo = full, not confirmed dummy), and I realized I may be sleeping outside, only to be saved by Manu, who used his sweet-talking staccato Spanish with the local middle-aged female proprietor to procure me a room. Good Asturian food, sidrah to wet the palate, and shenanigans were had.
June 6: La Mesa > Grandas de Salime (16 km, 10 m): You don’t need an alarm on the Camino because everyone else wakes you up around 6-7 a.m.
I’m finally understanding something that Henry David Thoreau and others talked about. Staying in the present. In today’s day and age, it’s hard to be present because you always have to plan and be prepared, and therefore, that always causes you to be slightly anxious. That’s the way of the modern world. If you were staying on a farm or doing what Thoreau did and going into nature and just being there for years, besides concerns for the daily necessities of life (food/shelter), you would be at peace with yourself and living in the present most of the time. As this relates to starting my new job, I’m realizing I need to consider what that fine line ‘living in the present’ happy medium is. To not get consumed by work.
This town is where I had one of my best meals on the Camino, partaking of cured meats, rottenly blue cheese, and fish pinxtos with Manu and Annie, followed by others joining, and meeting Leisel from Germany and Lieke from the Netherlands.
June 7: Grandas de Salime > A Fonsagrada (26.1 km, 16 m): 09:30, I’ve walked 10 km so far, and there is no COFFEE ANYWHERE. Woke up very early, left, and no coffee. That was stupid. I haven’t realized how much I’m addicted to coffee until now. Dear god. I just used the words “god willing” when someone told me there might be coffee later on, and I think I actually meant it.
Had a wonderful time here upon arrival, tho. Octopus lunch with Manu, Randall, and Grandpa Juan from Argentina.
Grateful for everyone’s presence today (Ed. Note: This is also the evening when the stinky, rude, older German men entered the dorm after midnight, making tons of noise and not muting their phones before sleeping).
Week Five: Conflicting Thoughts as the Camino Concludes
June 8 (Sunday): A Fonsagrada > Vilar de Cas (39.5 km, 24.5 m): Spent most of the day hanging with Manu, good convo, he’s a wonderful chap, love that guy. What am I grateful for in the heat of the afternoon? Much of this walk is under a canopy of trees, so I thank the shade they provide.
June 9: Vilar de Cas > Lugo (17.2 km, 10.6 m): A chill(er) day, exploration of the city, and good company hanging with Manu and Luca over drinks.
June 10: Lugo Rest Day: It’s starting to feel really fucking weird that it’s ending soon. Each day I have a purpose, a mission, and a routine. Now all of that is about to end. It feels rather disconcerting to say the least.
June 11: Lugo > Merlán (34 km, 21.1 m): A good convo practicing Spanish with Argentinian Grandpa Juan. Had a rather intense conversation over dinner with a free-wheeling Croat who holds a bleak outlook on humanity’s future.
June 12: Merlán > A Salceda (40.7 km, 25 m): Hit Melide mid-morning (where the Primitivo and Frances meet), which leads to a total vibe change. In addition to the weathered Frances pilgrims, I’m observing a lot of posers (I kid, kinda) who came for the last 100 km. This increase in overall foot traffic led to many thoughts, oftentimes slightly judgmental (Ed. Note: At least I’m self-aware, and not alone in these pontifications):
At all times, people are behind and in front. There is increased commercial activity. Little tables of knick-knacks and people flocking to them like sheep.
Increased levels of performative actions. People walking over a river path are getting videos of themselves going over the stone steps. I don’t know, maybe I’m being judgmental
You can delineate between those who have been on it for a while and those who are fresh based on the herd mentality
Thoughts from Annie: “It’s super annoying, like some social scene I didn’t ask for. I feel like I’m on a guided tour. Weird looks from people, I look like a grungy creature while these newbies all look so clean, and carry small backpacks. I’d go back to that Hospitales route in a heartbeat right now if I could.”
Thoughts from Manu: “It totally blows off the spirit of the Camino. A lot of little sellers are selling crap. Too many people, impossible to find an inch for yourself, capitalism madness man. No one is saying “Buen Camino” anymore; it’s nonsense. The first 1.5 weeks were the best for me in the Basque Country. We were completely alone, and we knew all the pilgrims. Now, at the end, I am around all these people, I have to squish myself… fucking hell.”
I will feel lost when this Camino ends, and that’s tough to swallow. Difficult to comprehend and deal with. I finally understand Forest Gump when he says, “I just felt like running.”
The albergue here has a legit chef. The menu del dia para cena is amazing, as is the local Spanish licor.
June 13: A Salceda > Santiago de Compostela (30.7 km, 19 m): Knowing this is going to end soon is very hard to accept. 06:30 start, plenty of rain, no people, and only my thoughts for the first hour. I got a bit emotional.
Almost every day on this hike, living in the present, while also getting up in my head thinking about life, has caused intense daily emotions. It’s the nature of the Camino.
Upon arrival, there was quite a celebration with friends, many cervezas drank, a late afternoon nap, and excellent seafood for dinner, followed by live traditional Spanish music in the main square (thanks to Jose and Manu, who knew of this tradition). A fitting end to the Camino, for which I am eternally grateful.
P.S. My Most Memorable, Recommended Albergues to Stay Along The Way
In general, the infrastructure along The Way is excellent, and you’re not worrying about where you’ll sleep each night (this statement is particularly apt on the Camino del Norte, less so around Hospitales on the Camino Primitivo, and I cannot speak to the popular Camino Frances).
You have the option to choose between fancier private rooms in hotels/Airbnbs, or go the more traditional Albergue route, which I highly recommend. An albergue is essentially a hostel, but specifically for pilgrims on the Camino, with two options to choose from: either the municipal/public albergues (around $11/night), or privately owned albergues (roughly $20/night). You usually get slightly better amenities with the latter. Here are the most memorable stays from my pilgrimage.
If This Isn't Nice, I Don't Know What Is 