10 days, 241 kilometers, 149.75 miles, 15 blisters, 2 injuries, 1 dog bite later…
Fun fact: the Camino de Santiago is hard. You may have already assumed that was the case, but we were a bit blindsided by it. We’re young with healthy bodies and adventurous spirits…what could be hard about just walking? Well, there’s the blisters, first of all. Then there were those sensitive tendons that decided not to function on the uphills or downhills or at all. After a certain distance, the bottoms of our feet felt like massive bruises. An achilles injury is brutal when you have to walk for so many hours at once. When it comes time to order at a cafe or check into a hostel, you never know if you’ll be able to communicate across the language barrier. And, the camino splits sometimes—usually one shorter path that has been paved over in a smoky industrial area and another slightly longer one that winds gracefully through some fairytale part of the woods. The mental and emotional pain of making the wrong choice and walking 10k on a straight concrete road beside speeding garbage and semi trucks is not something I wish to experience ever again in my lifetime.
This is perhaps a dramatic retelling of our camino mishaps. Ultimately, we loved our “buen camino” and I think we would all answer in the affirmative if asked about doing it all over again (although maybe give us a few weeks to recover from this one). But these unexpected limits of our bodies and minds and language abilities required us to receive hospitality from others. We were received by kind hosts at hostels, but we found that the most radical displays of hospitality came from other pilgrims.
We met many of our camino family in public albergues, starting in Ponte de Lima, Portugal. Bruno, our Portuguese-businessman-scuba-diver-spear-fisher-waiter-baker-“camino dad” joined us in the common space on our very first night as we were booking hostels for the following days. Seasoned pilgrim as he was, he shared his great wisdom with us and encouraged us to book the same albergue as he had—the albergue with a pool. He even offered to call for us, just in case they didn’t speak English. From then on, we never doubted Bruno.
Bruno! At the cathedral!
Us and Bruno traveled to the same towns for our entire journey. He always got there first, and when we took too long, he checked in on us in our “Bruno and the squad” chat. “Hey guys, are you okay?” Every time (we’re pretty sure he has little confidence in our self-preservation skills). This was our first taste of the radical hospitality offered by fellow pilgrims. When it came time to part with Bruno in Santiago, he insisted we not say “goodbye,” but simply “see you later.” He left us a tiny plastic trinket, which he called “the hand of friendship.” Someone gave it to him on his last camino and told him to pass it to someone special. We’ve traded it between our backpacks since then.
Our second Godsend was the mystery woman that I like to call our “highway angel.” Picture this: you have walked 24 miles of a full marathon (but like, going up and downhill and carrying a 20 lb pack), you were supposed to be done a mile ago but you accidentally booked a hostel three more miles down the road, and Google maps has decided that the most efficient route is the three-feet-wide side of the busiest highway in Galicia. Oh, and it’s the hottest time of the day and there’s not really shade on the open road.
Yeah, it was pretty rough. Morale = low.
We stopped for a water break in the first shade we could find, under a tree tucked behind a metal fence. Behind the fence was a small porch area, and then large double doors to a house, not ten feet from the massive highway. As we drank, the door opened and an older woman poked her head out. “Can I get anything for you? Do you need help?” she asked in Spanish. We decline, telling her that we’re close to our hostel and are just stopping for a water break. “Bueno,” she says. “El lugar al que vas es muy bonita. ¡Buen camino!” In English: “The place you are going to is very beautiful.”
An angel, I think.
We arrived in Santiago de Compostela on Day 7. It was a strange experience to “end” our camino before actually being done, and we were worried that it wouldn’t feel like a big moment. And though there were no massive displays of emotion on our end, we walked into the square before the cathedral and immediately heard a Dane shout, “My favorite Americans!” Our friend Rasmus (Danish kickboxer and freezer worker) gave us each the most enthusiastically Rasmus high five and then pointed across the square to a group of boisterous Italians (we had an informal pasta cookoff at one of the hostels, which I think we lost because we may or may not have broken the spaghetti…apparently that’s a big deal…). Out of their circle jaunts Enzo (affectionately dubbed “grandpapi,” our fast-walking Italian camino grandpa) to give us each a hug and poke fun at our slow pace. Then there’s John (Idahoan, Kentucky native, big proponent of sharing toothpaste), who asks us to take a picture of him jumping in front of the cathedral. Tiago (Portuguese marathon runner with a “shepherd’s heart” who always made sure all five of us were accounted for) and his dad (Portuguese history expert) make an appearance too.
By the time we left the square to check into our hostel and wash our clothes, a good number of those we had met on our walk had arrived in the square and joined the party. A wonderful display of the crazy connections made on the simple common ground that we were all walking the same path. It was here that we saw most of our camino family, and where we said goodbye to all of them as we headed onward to Muxía.
Camino Day 8: Santiago de Compostela → A Peña
Leaving Santiago, we wondered if we would meet anyone else walking the same route as us. Most people who go past Santiago walk first to Fisterra and then to Muxía, but we were going straight to Muxía. The walk—really a hike—would be more remote, more difficult, and longer each day than we had done before.
We started Day 8 by ourselves, but lo and behold, a Swiss woman came speedwalking behind us after a few kilometers. Her name was Miriam, and we had met briefly on the way to Santiago in a public albergue. She walks crazy fast, but she slowed her pace to walk with us all day (even though it meant getting to the hostel hours later than most pilgrims walk). We made dinner together, taught her to play BS, and then expected to go our separate ways again the next morning. But, lo and behold, she caught up with us each day and slowed down just to walk with us. Miriam came just after we had said goodbye to all our friends from the first part of the camino and were worried that we wouldn’t meet anyone anymore. Boom, Miriam.
Miriam beating us all at BS
Miriam blessed us by getting to know us. Most of our camino connections had mainly stayed either surface-level, or we were the ones asking them questions (which was also great!), but Miriam asked us good questions and got to know us each on an individual level. She was curious about what we believe, how we live, and who we are. She was also willing to talk about herself, and we got to know her just as well as she knew us.