I Walked Across Spain#

Last month I walked across Spain, east to west, following the historic Camino de Santiago, a historic pilgrimage route travelled by thousands of people a year. It was an experience.

Since returning lots of people have been asking me a seemingly simple question:

So how was the Camino?

And it’s been difficult for me to give a pithy answer that fits neatly into a conversation. This post is my attempt to solve that problem. Here’s a written version of some reflections from my walk.

Overlapping Experiences#

I think that the Camino is best understood as several overlapping experiences. It is a …

Physical experience
Social experience
Cultural experience
Religious experience
Cloistered experience
Humanist experience

Overlapping these experiences at the same time weaves a meaningfully different way of life than I’ve found elsewhere, neither in normal quotidian life, nor in vacations or other physical adventures.

I’ll briefly share my thoughts and personal experiences on each layer:

Physical#

I walked the typical route of the Camino Frances, starting from the French border in Saint Jean Pied de Port. This crosses the Pyrenees on the first day (imagine being a downed WWII RAF pilot escaping occupied France into neutral Spain in some Hemmingway-era novel) and then continues 500 miles / 800 kilometers to Northwestern Spain, and the town of Santiago de Compostella. That’s roughly 20 marathons, back to back.

This is both easier than it sounds, and harder than it sounds.

Walking a long distance is actually pretty easy when it’s all you have to do for the day. You pick up a slow and natural pace and just keep at it. You’re carrying gear, but not much (the walk is supported with hostels and cafes along the way). The median walker is probably a retiree in their sixties who does about 20km a day. I’m a pretty fit 40-year-old and did anywhere from 20km-50km a day. I finished in 27 days.

However, walking this distance is also a harder than it sounds because of accumulated stress. In normal life you’re active one day and play hard, and then the next you rest and recuperate. On the Camino you just keep going day after day. Your body accumulates stress and injuries but you adapt and walk through that stress, eventually reaching an equilibrium where you heal about as quickly as you injure yourself. People manage blisters, joint pain, swelling, plantar fascitis, diabetes, and more.

Personally, I fell and bruised my knee pretty badly the second day and then promptly did a lot of descent, which caused a highly inflamed knee that I walked on for about a week before it healed. Then after a couple weeks, my metatarsals / forefeet became inflamed which took some getting used to and slowed me down. I walked in minimalist footwear (Vibram-five-fingers) which is totally normal for me at home (I’ve worn them for close to 20 years and run barefoot regularly) but I had never experienced this much repetitive stress for this long, which made it all the more interesting to accomplish.

This level of endurance was a new kind of challenge for me, and discovering this level of resilience was a new kind of satisfaction.

Cultural#

Spain is a wonderful host country for this kind of activity. The vibe is chill; the people are warm; the food is cheap. It’s super accessible. That being said, the Camino is not an especially Spanish experience.

There are a few Spaniards walking the Camino, but not many, and most interactions with townspeople are practical in nature. And while the Camino stops is a few delightful cities (Burgos, Leon, Santiago, …) the majority of the time you’re out in countryside or in very small villages of 100 people or less.

To make this concrete, people often ask me “how was the food!?” to which my answer is “pretty terrible actually”. This isn’t a reflection on Spanish cuisine, but rather on the fact that we’re walking through tiny towns, and that Spanish restaurants open at 8pm and pilgrims are usually bedded down by 9pm. As a result most of my calories came in the form of bananas/nuts/sausages picked up at small grocery stores, Spanish tortilla (a potato based quiche dish) and non-alcoholic beer found in roadside bar/cafes (NA beer is delightfully ubiquitous in Spain, and the perfect mid-walk beverage). Dinner was typically prepared in a hostel by hostel staff who, while delightful, were not especially accomplished chefs.

Culturally the Camino is more of a globalist/international experience than a Spanish one. Linguistically there were a few groupings:

English: typically North American, Australian, and New Zealanders, as well as Germans and Dutch. Maybe 40%?
French: on the Camino Frances there are a number of French speakers, maybe 20% at the beginning dropping to 10% by the end?
Spanish: consisting of some Spaniards, but more Latin Americans, as well as Portuguese and Italian speakers, all of whom get by in an interesting (and incredibly easy to understand) Spanish patois
Korean: a surprising though delightful group, South Koreans made up maybe 5-10% of the pilgrims, and are by far the most represented East Asian country due to their stronger Christian heritage there.
Other: some Japanese and Chinese (more-often Taiwanese).

While quite different and sometimes unable to communicate, these groups got along amazingly well. There’s a culture of understanding and charity on the Camino that’s universal. I received help and support (like blister care) from people I had just met and couldn’t speak to, and happily gave what I had to others. My claim to fame in terms of generosity was organizing an Amazon shipment of Lacrosse balls to give out along the trail (the one I brought from home was in incredibly high demand in hostels for foot massage).

Despite most pilgrims not being religious, the Camino’s culture was one of the better expressions of some Christian values I’ve experienced.

Religious#

The Camino de Santiago was and is an important religious pilgrimage. We’re walking to the site of the remains of Saint-James (or in Latin Sant-Iago), one of the twelve apostles. Christians have walked from their homes to the site of his remains for a thousand years (and then amazingly, also walked back).

I am not religious, and I’d say that the minority of pilgrims are today. But walking with the more devout pilgrims was a treat. Empathy is so natural on the Camino that you get to feel a little bit of their experience second-hand.

For those who were interested there was nightly mass to attend, historically relevant churches/cathedrals/hermitages/etc. to visit, monasteries to stay in, and so on.

I didn’t engage this layer much, but I appreciated its presence. Being among the religious pilgrims helped to make the walk more than just a big hike.

Humanist#

The people walking the Camino come at interesting times of their lives. I met people who …

just retired
just quit their job
recently separated from a partner
lost a loved one
were trying to lose weight
just given up a drug habit
just sent a loved one to rehab, and for the first time had time to themselves

Generally the pilgrims are at interesting and reflective phases of life, and that brings some interesting energy to the crowd. Everyone is thoughtful and generally open to change in life. This cultivates both a level of empathy and emotional honesty that I found pervaded the experience.

Cloistered#

You’re so focused as a group on walking that you naturally detach from the broader world outside the Camino. This was surprisingly meaningful.

Like most people, I check my e-mail / the news / my phone actively throughout the day. This behavior goes well beyond “staying on top of work”; it has become a pretty strong compulsion for me (and for many of us I think). I don’t think it serves me well, but I’ve historically struggled to change the behavior in a lasting way.

Fortunately, on the Camino that desire to check in with the world disappeared entirely. The novelty and buzz of the world felt boring and unwelcome. I didn’t check my e-mail or the news for days at a time, not through intention and discipline, but through lack of interest.

Although when I finally did check the news I found that it had been a pretty intense few weeks for others. This period included both the LA immigration riots and the attacks on Iran.

This made me think more about the right level of active engagement one should do. I think that one should care about the world, but perhaps not at the cadence that is typical today. There’s a frequency and mania of staying on top of things that I don’t think meaningfully helps; and does considerable harm.

Lessons#

The Camino was hard and like many hard things, it changes one’s perspective.

Upon returning people ask me:

“What did you learn?”

“What did you take away?”

I’m not sure I learned a specific lesson, but I do think that stepping outside of my life and walking the Camino instilled a few behaviors or qualities that I appreciate:

Introspective: I’m more open to questioning larger parts of my life
- “do I like living in my city?”
- “is this particular relationship serving me?”
- “would I prefer to stop attending this regular event?”
rather than going with the flow that past-me set up. I’m more active in assessing what I do and do not appreciate, and more open to making more decisive changes.
Calm: I think I’m more thoughtful and less frantic with how I engage with the wider world. Not meaningfully less engaged I don’t think; just a bit less manic about it.
Satisfaction: I seem a little more satisfied with life moment-by-moment. The persistent nagging voice in my head saying things aren’t good enough seems a lot quieter today. I take more naps and sit outside watching people more often.

It’s been a few weeks since I stopped walking and these traits so far have stuck around; which I find encouraging.

Call to Action#

My age group (30s-50s) was generally absent on the Camino.

That makes sense; we’re in our most productive years. We’re raising kids and at the peak of our career and so reasonably find it difficult to take a month away.

However I encourage people to try. This might be an especially important time to step outside our lives and reflect on what we want from it.

Thoughtful Professional Writing