The Camino Frances is the most popular route of the Camino de Santiago. It is a 790 km ancient pilgrimage that winds its way through cities and countryside from St. Jean Pied de Port, France, to Santiago de Compostella, Spain. In 2013, over 200,000 pilgrims received their Compostella – certificate of completion – in Santiago.
My journey to the Camino began 12 years ago when I read Paulo Coelho’s The Pilgrimage. Something in that book called me to the Camino; something I cannot explain, and for 12 years I only talked about going on the pilgrimage in Spain. Finally, fate would lead me to the Camino in May 2014, walking with two women I’d never met. Lorraine Ens and I had a mutual friend who had connected us knowing we both wanted to walk the Camino, and Cathie Heinrichs was Lorraine’s cousin. I didn’t know them, but I had five weeks to learn all I would need to know. However, I knew we had at least one thing in common. We were all crazy enough to take five weeks off to walk across Spain.
In the first 24 hours after landing in Madrid we’d already travelled north through Pamplona to St. Jean Pied de Port, on the east side of the Pyrenees Mountains. The anticipation, the nerves, and the excitement of 12 years had come down to this one night. I felt confident and sure of myself; I was simply setting out on a long walk. Sure, it would be difficult and I was nervous, but I was feeling positive. I was finally going to complete my dream of walking the Camino.
Three days and 73 kilometres later, I was not feeling so positive. I was in pain, I was tired, my legs and ankles were swollen, I had two toenails coming off, and I felt totally alone. I was thousands of kilometres from home, my family and friends, and my body felt like it was falling apart. My mind was racing with thoughts of not being able to finish, having to stop before the end, and after only three days. This wasn’t supposed to happen. We were supposed to adjust and get used to walking 20 plus kilometres each day, carrying our 25 lb backpacks, and sleeping in a new place each night. I cried in the bathroom of our hotel room; alone and defeated. I felt like a failure; I was so focused on how far we still had to go. The days and kilometres seemed to stretch out, endless, in front of me. How could I go all that way when I could barely make it this far?
I thought about what I was here to accomplish, what my real goal was. The goal was to finish the Camino, to arrive in Santiago and see the Cathedral; to see this dream through to the end. I knew then that I had to adjust my plans to make sure I accomplished that goal; self-care became much more important than walking every freaking inch. That made the decision to take the bus on day four much easier. That first bus ride, while it was a blow to my ego, also gave me the time to reflect on why I was walking the Camino and to reaffirm my commitment to keep going.
Starting out on day five, I felt refreshed and ready to tackle whatever the Camino could throw at me. I was beginning to see how this trip would test my strength, my emotions and my determination. I was tested each morning when we got up to prepare for the day, and each afternoon walking the last kilometres into town. The aches that developed in your body toward the end of the day became maddening, driving you to your edge. Each step would light a fire on the bottom of your feet and your shoulders throbbed to the beat of your feet on the trail. This is when you earn your dinner - and wine. This is when you have to choose the voice you wish to hear. The voice that highlights your pain and fatigue, or the voice that cheers you on to find your strength. And on day five I chose the cheerleader. The voice that said, “Keep walking, don’t stop walking, keep picking up those feet, keep smiling, feel the pain and let it go, trust that your body will carry you through!”
That was the process as I finally began to adjust to life on the Camino. I was never completely pain free, but I was determined. I was learning that everyone walks their own Camino. Walk, eat, sleep, repeat became my routine. The scenery we saw each day as we walked was amazing and I felt grateful to have the opportunity to do what I was doing. To take five weeks off from life at home to walk across Spain, to experience a new culture, and new friends, to climb mountains, cross rivers and valleys, to have no plans or reservations, to simply walk.
This is one of the blessings of the Camino – the freedom you feel as you trek across the country. It is the blessing of making fast friends, laughing at new inside jokes, learning how to walk through the pain, and trusting your inner strength. I was finally adapting, and I finally felt confident that I could complete the journey. After three weeks on the road things were syncing up; my mind was in charge.
I began to walk faster, to smile more, to feel the freedom of the open space that surrounded me. On day 16, all of this would be tested again. It was already raining when we walked out the door of our hotel, and it didn’t stop for 18 km. It wasn’t the longest day, and it wasn’t the hardest day, but it definitely tested my inner strength. I walked by myself, music on, focused on the long, straight, Roman road that stretched out ahead of me. The rain was coming sideways and the wind pushed me across the path. I started to laugh at the situation I was in; I thought to myself several times I would quit if I could, but what would I do if I quit? We were in the middle of nowhere, would I just crawl into the ditch? I felt like I was going to cry, but not because I was sad. I suddenly felt so exhilarated, so free, so powerful. I was completely overwhelmed. I said out loud, “Come on sun! You can do it!” Right then I looked up and saw blue skies ahead. I pushed on to the next town and waited for my friends. We found the bar and drank wine until our taxi came to take us to our hostel. It was the end of another emotional day. Talk at the dinner table turned to the usual topic of foot pain, leg pain, and the kilometres that still lay ahead.
We took the train to Leon the next day; this was the final phase of our trip. From Leon we had 318 km and 13 days left. I was learning to enjoy every moment, the sunny ones, the rainy ones, the painful ones, the enlightening ones, the peaceful ones. We walked into Santiago de Compostella on Thursday, June 5, Lorraine’s 50th birthday. It was a day of celebration, the completion of our journey. I was thinking about how long it had taken me to get here, not just the 31 days of travel from St. Jean Pied de Port, but also the 12 years before that had ultimately led me to this moment.
My journey on the Camino was a mental battlefield, a test of my emotional strength and stamina. When I walked into Santiago I thought I would cry, I thought I would feel a rush of emotions, but I didn’t. I felt calm, happy and relieved. It was a bittersweet moment; the excitement for the completion of our walk and the sadness that it was all over. We joked the entire trip about “the next time we walk the Camino,” knowing we never wanted to do this again, and yet I wondered if maybe one day I’d go back.
Partway through the walk I was asked if I’d had my “spiritual experience” yet. I didn’t know how to respond; I’m not religious, and I don’t attend church. But I do believe that there is something greater than me out there. I felt it the day we walked in the pouring rain, I felt it in the strength I had that day to carry on. I felt it in my peacefulness on our last day walking into Santiago. I feel it now.
Walking might not seem like a test of your physical or mental strength, but it tested me. Step by step, I made my way across Spain. I walked, I learned, and I checked the biggest goal off my list. It may have been challenging and painful, but looking back, I’m grateful for every freaking inch of my Camino journey.
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