Updated April 2022
People walk the Camino de Santiago for as many reasons are there are those that walk. Some walk to celebrate. Some to grieve a loss. To heal from divorce. To clear their head. To decide on next steps – a new job? A move? A new relationship? Some walk to keep a promise. Others, to find their way…or to get lost. Lost in thought; lost in contemplation; lost from the ordinary world for a bit. Lost in the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other for miles and miles, day after day.
Some folks walk for the challenge of completing a through-hike or a long-distance hike. Many walk for spiritual reasons. Others, for a religious reason – after all, it is the “The Way of Saint James”/”Camino de Santiago”/ ”Jakob’s Weg” – a pilgrimage done for centuries by devout followers of Christ and his apostles, specifically Saint James, who preached of the works of Jesus to the people of Spain and Portugal and traveled this path himself.
There’s not just one Camino – the Way starts where you begin. There are paths that lead from Granada and Madrid in Spain. Or from St. Jean Pied de Port in France – the one most people talk about – the Frances Way. Or from Lisbon and Porto in Portugal. Really, wherever you begin, so begins your Camino. The destination is Santiago, Spain, in the northwest corner of España, at the Cathedral built to commemorate Saint James (or as my walking partner, Theresa, called it, “the chapel”).
The scallop seashell is the symbol of the Camino and the many lines of the shell represent the many directions that walkers travel to get to Santiago.
Pilgrims attach a scallop shell to their backpacks to signify their participation in the pilgrimage. Here’s a photo of my backpack, with the shell hanging from it, imprinted with the red Cross of Saint James, another symbol of The Way.
My good friend and travel buddy Theresa and I decided to walk the Portuguese Camino from Porto, Portugal to Santiago, Spain as it was a shorter distance than the Camino from France (which the great majority of pilgrims walk) starting at St. Jean Pied de Port (240 km/150 miles vs. 775 km/480 miles) and sounded perfect – 11-13 days walking through the centuries-old villages and bucolic rolling fields, vineyards and flower-strewn meadows in the countryside of Portugal into Spain. 
We purchased the Guidebook – known by pilgrims as “the Brierley book” (the name of the author) – sort of the “bible” of the Camino, which outlines the trail, shows restaurants and accommodations along the way, and breaks the Camino into daily “stages” – suggested daily lengths which many people follow religiously (ha – no pun intended!) We also downloaded the Camino app onto our phones and this app offered the same information as the book – and the trail map worked when we were offline as well. Each evening or in the afternoon, we decided how far we wanted to go the next day, taking into consideration the elevation gain, distance, and weather forecast. Then we used the booking.com or HostelWorld app to book a room or a couple of beds for the upcoming night.
We packed light, and carried our own backpack most days. You can send your bag ahead to your next stop easily enough – every few days during your Camino or every day if you’d like. 
Those who sent their bags ahead were known as “slackpackers” 😜! (You might want to read my other blog post about my tips and tricks for walking The Way and for details on how to send your pack ahead. )
Our Camino led us through charming cobblestone streets in medieval villages dotted with stone houses where riotous, colorful flowers like “bottle brush” and “flamboyants” burst through the fenced well-kept gardens and cascaded over the sturdy rock walls. 
We walked along wide, sweet-smelling pastures of hay full of goats, horses and sheep while farmers toiled in the fields beneath the sunshine. One afternoon we were in a magical field of lilies – beautiful white lilies swaying in the breeze, and even a large lily bush (I’m sure that isn’t what it’s really called) 
with ginormous brilliant lemony-yellow trumpeting lilies bowing toward the ground.
One magical day, we walked along a grassy path under a canopy of grapevines next to a vineyard while traditional Portuguese music magically floated through the air from the church speakers in a tiny hamlet celebrating a local holiday. It was like being in our own movie, complete with a soundtrack! Another morning we happened upon an older gent dressed in a kilt playing the bagpipes on the trail – what a smile that brought us!
We happened upon small shrines along The Way – impromptu cairns covered with ribbons and seashells, photos, prayers and memorabilia placed there by someone walking in another’s memory. Hiking boots spray-painted and filled with wildflowers, sculptures and artwork of Saint James surprised us in unusual places. Hundreds of niches tucked into the exterior walls of homes along the narrow laneways featured statues of Santiago, most often portrayed carrying his drinking gourd, walking stick and wearing a traveler’s cape. And everywhere…everywhere! The iconic seashell trail-blaze and the cheerful and ever-so-helpful bright sunny-yellow arrow pointing walkers in the direction of the Cathedral. It was nearly impossible to get lost on this walk (even for me!)
Some of the Camino wandered down quiet streets through villages, with the residents going about their daily life, always waving cheerfully and bidding us a “bom caminho” in Portugal and a “bon camino!” in Spain with a smile. 
After all, these streets, villages and towns have seen pilgrims walking The Way for nearly a thousand years now and you can absolutely feel the spirituality in the air…many of the shops and cafes have been here for generations providing services for peregrinos (pilgrims) along their journey.
People came into and out of our life during those 12 days on the walk. There was Irish Brian – a cheerful and enthusiastic ruddy-faced bloke who had a severe sunburn and told everyone, EVERYONE, he met about it. Maria, a woman from Germany who we bumped into every few days, and who crossed the bridge from Portugal into Spain with us one warm afternoon. There was “New Jersey” and her crew – two couples from the USA that we would see every now and again, laughing and smiling and promising to meet up for a beer at the end of the day. We met Sandra, a 72-year-old woman walking the Camino on her own for the 3rd time. 
Many, many people we met had walked the Camino numerous times – often, they take different routes, but they all sigh deeply and get very wistful and dreamy with a faraway look in their eye when they reminisce about their multiple Caminos. Theresa and I discussed it as we walked and we decided that we had no desire to walk it more than once; there were too many awesome trails, places to go and things to do and we didn’t see the point of walking it again. We were definite about that.
And then there was Miki – or as Theresa dubbed her, our “Camino Angel”. Miki, a cheerful woman in her early 60s sporting a splash of bright pink lipstick and the same hiking “uniform” of sorts each day, rose early and walked slowly (her words, not mine) but we always managed to cross paths with her in the most unlikely out of the way places! We would spot her late one morning sipping a coffee alongside the trail, or she would be having lunch in an off-the-beaten-trail restaurant that we happened to stop in as well. We walked stretches of the Way with her, chatting about life and kids and the future and the past. 
She had walked the Camino three or four times, and talked about walking it again in the future. She offered great insights about the Camino, what it meant to her and why it was important in her life.
One morning, Theresa let me know that it was the anniversary of her husband’s death 6 years ago. We hugged, wiped tears from our eyes, and I said, “Today, we walk for Mikey”. A few hours into our day we happened upon Miki, and walked with her for a spell. We passed a beautiful green meadow full of fluffy sheep with their baby lambs, and the three of us starting baaa-ing at the flock at the same time, then laughing at our silliness.
We walked on, and a few minutes later we saw a bright turquoise baseball cap sitting on a stone wall and stopped to pick it up. Theresa mentioned that she needed a cap (and had said so repeatedly -REPEATEDLY!! 🤦🏽♀️the day prior when it was raining and wearing a cap would’ve kept the rain off her face!) and was annoyed with herself for not bringing one on this trip (and had said so numerous times that week).
“Take this hat if you need one!” said Miki. Theresa argued that it wasn’t hers, but Miki said that the owner had surely walked on not noticing that the hat had dropped. And perhaps Theresa would be able to return the hat to its rightful owner, said Miki. Theresa hemmed and hawed about taking it, and then Miki cocked her head and looked directly at Theresa and said, “What’s stopping you?” Theresa finally agreed to take the hat – and that’s when we noticed that the hat said “Baaaa” on it. We all laughed, and said it was a sign.
We continued our walk, and then a minute later Miki stopped abruptly and turned to Theresa.
“Did you lose someone close to you? Someone with a quirky sense of humor?” Miki asked her intently.
“Yes”, said Theresa, with tears welling up in her eyes. “My husband Mike, who had a great sense of humor, died 6 years ago today.”
“Well, I think he put that hat there for you,” said Miki, and nodded her head emphatically. “He’s here with you.”
We laughed, we cried, and we applauded as Theresa adjusted the silly hat on her head and we walked on, happy for the memory of Mike on a beautiful day.
That night, Miki stopped at her lodging in town and Theresa and I walked on a bit to a tiny café we had booked for the night that wasn’t very close to the trail – it was maybe 1-1/2 km off the trail. Actually, our previous night’s host had booked it for us, as all the accommodations in the next village were reserved and we had run out of options in the Brierley book and on booking.com. She knew of a place a little “off the beaten trail” (literally!😆) and called ahead to speak to the owner of a small restaurant that offered maybe 6 or 8 beds upstairs from the café, and asked them to save 2 beds for us.
We arrived at the simple but clean café/hotel, tossed our backpacks into the room, took showers and relaxed a bit then headed downstairs to the restaurant for dinner. The place was deserted but for one German couple a few tables away from ours. We nodded hello politely, but didn’t really speak with them again, except to ask for the ketchup. When we were nearly finished with our pilgrim dinner (most restaurants along The Way offer “pilgrim dinners” to walkers of the Camino which consists of chicken, fish or a pork chop, rice and French fries, and a tiny salad plus a glass of wine for 10-12 euros), Theresa suddenly turned to the man and his wife two tables over from us and without preamble, began telling them the story of the sheep, “baaa-ing” together with Miki, needing a hat for the Camino and wishing she had brought one, finding the hat with the “baaa” embroidered on the cap, being convinced to take the hat…and how today was the anniversary of her husband’s death six years ago and how we were certain Mikey had placed that hat there for Theresa.
When she finished telling the story, the woman calmly smiled, nodded sagely and said, “That is my hat. It fell out of my backpack earlier and I had no idea it was gone until too late.” We were, as the English say, gobsmacked.
Stunned.
Speechless.
Theresa went upstairs to her room and brought down the baseball cap to see if it was the one, and indeed – of course! – it was. There was hugging, crying, laughing and in the end, many beers shared, a few shots of port tipped back (I didn’t know you could do shots of port, but oh well!) …and a gift of a hat from one German woman to one American woman walking the Camino
“The Camino provides.” You’ll hear it said many times throughout your days on The Way. Yes, it was “just” a hat. But it was a beautiful reminder of how the Universe, serendipity and synchronicity can bring people together.
And “my Camino”? What did I learn? I learned (correction: I am learning) to slow down. To be in the moment more. To appreciate the little things that surround us – a beautiful flower. A friendly wave from an elderly gentleman walking by. A glass of vino tinto at the end of a long but wonderful day of walking. A comfy bed to sleep in, with clean crisp white sheets and a hot cup of coffee in the morning.
We walked.
And we walked some more.
After 11 days of walking and one day of rest, we approached the Cathedral (or chapel, as Theresa continued to call it!) in Santiago and we both slowed down to appreciate, feel and “be in the moment” as we ended our pilgrimage.
I played “Nessun Dorma” sung by Andrea Bocelli on my phone, and walked proudly and confidently into the ancient plaza in the beautiful warm Spanish sunshine with tears in my eyes. Tears – for attempting and completing a walk of 150 miles. For a beautiful, spiritual, mystical and incredible experience. For being part of an ongoing tradition of peregrinos walking a sacred pilgrimage for over 1000 years to Santiago and feeling the energy and spirit of those pilgrims of the past. For being able to walk this distance, in this country, in good health, with my friend. What a glorious feeling!
I turned to Theresa there in the piazza and said, “The Camino…would you do it again?”
“Yep!” she smiled broadly and without hesitation. “You?”
“Definitely.” I said, grinning.
We laughed and high-fived each other with our trekking poles…then walked happily to the Pilgrim’s Reception Office to collect our official certificates – one to show completion, our “compostela”…and the other to commend us for distance walked.
Another successful and meaningful travel experience, walking through two beautiful countries filled with laughter, friendly people, good wine and good times.
The Camino.
The Way.
I highly recommend it.
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See you there! 😉
∞
Before the end of my journey may I reach within myself and find the one which is the all. ~Tagore
Never trust a thought that didn’t come by walking. ~ Fredrich Nietzsche
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