The Spirit of the Camino

Mar 13

3 min read

On my first day of the Camino from Sarria in 2023, I took off with intent.

It was early in the morning and we were prepared to complete the days walking before the sun became too much.

I was with a bunch of friends and each one jostled to keep pace with the next. Like horses fresh off the start line we all galloped into the sunrise.

As the hills came closer, we pushed harder. As the legs felt fatigued, we relied on our will. We may have stopped for a quick coffee but if we did it wasn't a memorable one.

From Sarria to Portomarin, an easy 20km, we dusted it off before mid-day. Success!

Or so I thought...

Off came the new boots, still looking fresh from the store. The niggle at my toes that I refused to recognise while walking now reared its ugly head. "Mr Blister" would be my name for the rest of the trip and for good reason!

"It's like an extension to your toe" they laughed. "It looks like a gummy sweet that didn't meet quality control". The jokes started pouring in and while I appreciated the humour I realised this "short camino" may become a mighty struggle. The next morning I woke with a fighting spirit. I was determined to make the most of the trip and nothing would get in the way of that! I met the others downstairs and off we went again. There was no denying it this time. The blisters (now plural) were a problem. I was falling behind the bunch no matter how hard I tried. The others slowed down to my pace. Which had became close to a stop.

I felt bad, I told them to go on ahead and I would catch up.

My friends went on and Andrea (my girlfriend) and I discussed the reality of the situation. The blisters on my feet were causing me to walk funny and the imbalance had caused my knee to start swelling badly also. What a disaster!

Just as I began to spiral into self-pity a man came strolling slowly from behind us. "Buen Camino!" he expressed with an enormous smile before looking down at my leg and seeing that things were not bueno right now.

After looking a moment, his face returned to a gentle smile once again. "No problem, relax, this is the Camino," he said. He closed his eyes, gently sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils and calmly pushed it out again through his lips. "There is no rush on the Camino".

He engaged us both in conversation and distracted us from our concerns. We walked...slowly...to say the least. Would you call it a stroll? A ramble? A wander? We talked about what it really meant to walk the Camino. It wasn't his first and he knew a thing or two.

Then suddenly we were in Palas de Rei. How we got there I couldn't tell you. We laughed, we told stories and we stopped for food and drink and didn't really consider that we would ever arrive.

The days that followed were similar. I was in pain, no doubt. I can tell you, I was not in good knick!

But every time I was about to give up a little miracle occurred. Almost always in the form of a new person, with new stories and questions.

My highlights were thinking about new big ideas and learning words in new languages. Having time to sit beneath a shade tree and sing songs from my childhood. I learned about the spirit of the Camino. What it isn't