The Camino refers to the Camino de Santiago (Way of St James), a vast network of ancient pilgrim routes that stretch across Europe and converge at the tomb of St. James in Santiago de Compostela in north-west Spain.

In my experience, the Camino always has something to teach us, whether subtle or profound. Those effects may be conscious throughout your journey, or more of a seed that grows slowly into your awareness long after your return. This is not my first time walking a Camino, but each time I have returned a different person.

Celebrations

I walked my first Camino in 2015, to celebrate my 50th Birthday. I wanted to do something extraordinary … and extraordinary it was. I had wracked my brains for weeks: where would I go – somewhere that would be special, memorable; which friends would I like to join me?

Then one morning I awoke with a start … “Of course, why didn’t I think of this before … I will walk the Camino”. I had read articles about the Camino de Santiago many years ago, and it ignited my sense of adventure and wanderlust; it was on my ‘bucket list’, but now was the perfect time to go.

However, friends and relatives were beside themselves with anxiety and incredulity … “that doesn’t sound like fun, wouldn’t you rather relax by a pool, aren’t you scared, what if you are attacked by bandits”.

Well, I wasn’t scared, but then I hadn’t considered Bandits!! Do they have those in France/Spain? … and no, I really don’t want to sit by a pool. A friend even sent me a link about a woman who had gone missing on the Camino and others who had since come forward to voice their bad experiences: men trying to drag them into a van, getting groped by rampaging cyclists!

This scaremongering was well-meaning, of course; people just wanted me to be safe. But these were their fears. Was I scared? Of course I was, particularly when I discovered that the place where the woman had vanished was my starting point. But the desire to go far outweighed the fear of not going.

Why was it so important for me to go? … this I still cannot explain …

At the time, the Camino Francés was the only route I knew of. With just two weeks’ annual leave available, Astorga seemed the perfect starting point.

Auspiciously, no one wanted to come; well, how can anyone understand something that is beyond the fear of their own imagination? As I had so often resolved to do over the years, I continued alone …

And so, I jumped on a train, a plane and then a coach, to a land I had never been to before… I took a leap of faith, and this is where the magic begins …

The Journey Begins

One could argue that the journey had already begun long ago, a seed of an idea, recently germinated and taken root

I arrived safely in Santiago de Compostela and ‘by chance’ caught my bus. I had been sitting patiently waiting at the designated bus terminal, but there was no sign of my bus. Then, I just happened to turn around to find my bus was boarding in the terminal behind me. These are the things that happen on the Camino: happenstance, things just randomly coming together.

I arrived in Astorga late that evening, a place I had never before seen. I walked past magnificent, wondrous buildings straight to my hotel. My feet seemed to know the way, as if I had walked the route a thousand times before… strange are the mysteries of the Camino.

My first evening was spent packing and unpacking my backpack; I was already acutely aware I had overpacked, as most new to the Camino do. I had struggled with the weight just getting on and off public transport, let alone carrying it mile after mile. No matter, I ventured into the square to eat my ‘first pilgrim meal’.

The size of it- the first course alone filled me to bursting- I highly recommend the “Menú del Peregrino” or Pilgrim´s menu. Some restaurants offer discounts if you show your credential. With three courses and plenty of food, it was exactly what a tired pilgrim needed.

I chatted with a fellow ‘Peregrina’ at the next table; she had started the Camino with a friend, who had subsequently dropped out, and now she was walking alone. I felt her sadness and imagined this must be tough if your plans included someone else and you hadn’t expected to walk alone. I didn’t see her again after that; I hope everything worked out for her.

I woke feeling anxious the next morning, thinking, “What have I done? You are in a strange place; you don’t know where you are; you don’t know where you are going; what if I get lost; what if I get murdered?” The thought of that missing lady on this stage of the Camino is now back in the forefront of my mind.

I started the day with much trepidation and headed downstairs for breakfast. Thinking I’m bound to meet other people I can walk with. But as I was soon to learn, most pilgrims are up, literally at the crack of dawn, and are out the door. I grabbed a few mouthfuls of food from the bar, too anxious to eat, and set off at 7 am.

My main tactic was to stalk the first pilgrim I saw, keeping a respectful distance behind them and keeping others in earshot behind me. But after a couple of hours walking, my fears proved unfounded, and I soon relaxed and settled into ‘the way’ of the Camino, following the yellow arrows and markers and chatting to all I met en route. Many people walk the Camino alone, but you are never truly alone…

Ohhh, the terror. The next morning, there was my pack on the doorstep of the Albergue in Rabanal, in full view of anyone who walked by. No staff to supervise it until later that morning. “I will never see it again,” I thought, but then I was in so much pain from the day before that I didn’t care much whether I did or not.

But later that day, when I arrived at Albergue – Mesón El Acebo, there it was, minus my new trousers, which I suddenly recalled were still on the washing line in Rabanal. No problem, I explained my predicament to my host in very poor Spanish; he made a call, and later that evening, when I returned from dinner, there he was, holding my trousers. He responded to my astonished face by saying, “It’s Magic” …

I continued luggage transfer until I reached Ponferrada; there I was able to shed 3kg from my pack. You can send luggage by Correos to Santiago. They’ll keep it for you, and you can pick it up when you arrive in the city.

My pack was now much more manageable and consequently my constant companion for the rest of the way. I say companion as you and your pack become one and you build a special relationship with it; your pack is your friend, it has everything you need, you talk to it … I kid you not … you will do the same …

The Camino Provides

You have no doubt heard the phrase ‘The Camino Provides ’; it really does. I was walking along the road one day and a Spanish man just randomly offered me some biscuits. I have had long, cheery chats with ancient, wrinkled farmers; they didn’t care that I didn’t speak a word of Spanish; they just wanted to communicate anyway.

Got an injury, or an illness? Someone has something for that; got a blister, just sit down, take off your boot, someone has a compede for that … there’s lots of compede… I broke my glasses; they got fixed. There was truly no end to the random acts of kindness I received or witnessed.

Before long I settled into a routine, awake at 6 am, walk, stop for café con leche con tostadas, walk some more, find accommodation, shower, wash clothes, find lunch, explore the current location, catch up with pilgrims I’d met on the way, check tomorrow’s route, siesta, eat dinner, catch up with pilgrim friends again, share stories, laughter and knowledge, sleep… such a simple way of life, unburdened and free.

“I felt my lungs inflate with the rush of scenery – AIR, MOUNTAINS, TREES, PEOPLE. – I thought – THIS IS WHAT IT IS TO BE HAPPY”. Sylvia Plath

And so it is with the Camino: chance meetings with extraordinary and remarkable people, in wonderful places from all walks of life, young, old, able, disabled, different religions and philosophies, different reasons and circumstances for undertaking this journey, all sharing a common goal. I encountered nothing but the milk of human kindness

Everyone has a place on the Camino. You may think I have a rather rose-tinted view, but this was, and continued to be, my experience. I met so many wonderful people and experienced so many wonderful things that I would need to write a book to convey it all to you… But that is another story…

This part of the story ends with this final reflection. My experience on the Camino affected me profoundly, or it might be more accurate to say that I found myself again…

The person that I used to be before the trials of life, responsibility, adulthood and ‘stuff’ shrouded the spirit within. That carefree child that ran wild through meadows and woodlands, where summers lasted forever and time had no meaning …

I found her again on the Camino, unchanged, still vibrant and full of life, but maybe she wasn’t lost at all; maybe I had just forgotten how to be her. I had come home, and every time I walk the Camino, it feels like I am coming home.

It is difficult to explain. I am not religious in the slightest, yet I had an experience, an awakening of sorts. I am not ashamed to say that when I attended the Pilgrim Mass on the day I arrived in Santiago de Compostela, I was so overwhelmed that I wept.

I think I left a piece of my heart on the Camino. I have walked in many places, but nowhere has captured my imagination quite like it. A constant calling to return has led me to explore other Camino routes… but those are stories for another day.

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