The Camino de Santiago Part 1: Finding my Feet.

Almost ten years ago I was outside the church in mid-July after Saturday evening mass, this was after being a special mass, the one-year anniversary of my dad’s passing. Some of the people attending the mass knew I was heading off the next morning to walk along the Camino de Santiago and of course people are curious and ask why. I may at the time gave a vague generic response to the question but to be honest I didn’t really know myself and truth be told nobody really knows why they walk a Camino until they actually walk a Camino. So, what exactly is this Camino? The Camino de Santiago is a network of pilgrimage routes leading to the shrine of the apostle Saint James in the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Galicia, northwest Spain. It has been a significant Christian pilgrimage since the Middle Ages, and it continues to attract people from various backgrounds and beliefs and can be a personal journey for many.

My journey was to start in a town in the south of France called St. Jean Pied de Port nestled in the Pyrenees mountains, and from this point it would be 800km to Santiago. After arriving I checked into my first Albergue, which are like basic hostels and are dotted all along the Camino. There, I met my first other pilgrim, a reserved man who had been walking all the way from his home in Paris. With very little English he communicated that technically a Camino should start from the front door of your house. I felt like a fraud listening to his story after arriving by aeroplane and taxi. My next mission was to get my official pilgrim passport, this was to prove that you were a pilgrim which entitles you to stay at the Albergue’s and get subsidised evening meals. Each night you get the passport stamped at the Albergue where you stayed as further prove that you walked each section which can be then presented at the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela to receive your official pilgrim certificate. After receiving my passport, I returned to the Albergue and met my second pilgrim, Ava from Sweden. She wasn’t as reserved as the French man I met earlier and was very stressed after her journey here, like me her journey was just starting. I decided she needed to destress and suggested we go and look for food. We found a pizza place and chatted about the journey ahead, she was only here for a week, so she was only walking a small section of the Camino. After a relaxing evening, I settled down in my bunkbed, and I was now sharing a room with five other pilgrims. Tomorrow the walking begins.

Day 1: St Jean Pied de Port to Roncesvalles 25.1km

I decided on early starts, so at 6 am I was up and ready to go. It was a wet day, so the rain

gear had to be worn. As I walked out of town, I paused under an archway to gather my thoughts. I was rather anxious about the journey, I wasn’t exactly that physically fit, and wondered if I was even able to make the journey, but off I went. However, I quickly realised I made my first mistake, I was going the wrong way, and so my first lesson was to follow the yellow arrows! This first section was a 25km uphill mountain trek and across the border into Spain. I was slow and noticed almost everyone passing me out, although everyone was friendly and always up for a chat. There was one man walking at my pace, he was from Berlin and very enthusiastic about the journey. He had every gadget you could possibly want, even an umbrella that attached to his backpack so he could keep his hands free. He was friendly and good company especially for first day nerves. As we reached the top of the mountain, the rain and the cold was getting the better of us. I had lost the feeling in my hands and feet. We found shelter in an old stone cabin and had some food that we had taken with us and relaxed for a bit. The rest of the way was all downhill through the forests and eventually by 5 o’clock that evening we made it to our first stop, Roncesvalles. We very quickly got checked into our Albergue for the night, on old monastery with 110 beds in the one room! After getting cleaned up I realised my next problem, blisters on my feet! After chatting to others that evening, I realised blisters where a common problem with most pilgrims and the best tip I got was how important it was to keep your feet dry. Relaxing that evening in one of the hallways, I came across Ava again, cold and wet, she was again very stressed looking, she was delighted with my suggestion of food.

Day 2: Roncesvalles to Larrasone 31.2km

The next morning after breakfast, Ava and I decided that we would walk together that day.

Much to my relief it was going to be a downhill trek for most of the day and we spent the day taking in the views as it was a clear and sunny day and having great chats about life. I was enjoying myself that much that I wasn’t paying much attention to my body and to go with the downhill theme of the day my body went quickly downhill, my legs were really starting to ache. 27 km’s into today’s trek we reached a town called Zubiri and by then I couldn’t move my legs and was in extreme pain, a state of panic came over me. Luckily Ava knew what was wrong with me, it was a build up a lactic acid in my legs. We done exercises to relive the pain and got some food into us. I thought that was me done, but to my surprise within an hour I turned to Ava and said, “the next village is only another 5km away, shall we keep going?”. Off we went until we reached the village of Larrasoana, we washed our clothes by the river and hung them up to dry in the warm evening sun, we then met up with a large group of pilgrims from different parts of the world for our pilgrim meal. I was a smoker at the time and later that evening I was looking for a shop to buy cigarettes. I came across a little shop run by a man only a little older than myself that told me he would sell me cigarettes, but he said, “I must show you something first”, he preceded to lift up his shirt to reveal the scare down the centre of his chest from an operation on his heart and said “you see what smoking will do”. Of course, I always knew the risks, but this left a lasting impression on me.

Day 3: Larrasone to Zariquiegui 26.4km

Morning came and this time I head off alone, the Pyrenees mountains were now behind me,

and my destination was Pamplona for lunch. Pamplona was the first large city on route and famous for its running with the bulls’ festivals. Wondering around the city centre I bumped into Ava again and she introduced me to Spanish tapas for lunch. In the afternoon temperatures were in the mid-thirties so we decided to get to the outskirts of the city and wait until later that the evening to move on. There we met other pilgrims with the same idea. A young Scottish girl, called Emma who actually started her Camino in Glasgow, was armed with a guitar and entertained us until the temperatures dropped off. As we headed off that evening a gang now formed, Ava, Emma, an Australian girl called Sarah and a German woman. As we walked through sunflower fields, we had to stop by at rivers and lakes to cool off, but we eventually made it to a village called Zariquiegui. Most of the others relaxed with cool beers, I refused to have more than one beer as I wanted to be good shape for the climb the next morning. The German woman made a point to me that I was uptight and needed to relax and enjoy this Camino, it didn’t make me drink anymore beer, but it made me think that maybe I was taking things a little too seriously.

Day 4: Zariquiegui to Villatuerta 31km

The morning of day 4, I head off early on my own to beat the midday heat, but I wasn’t alone

for long and came across two of the girls I met yesterday, Emma and Sarah. The first few kilometres was a steep climb to Atto del Perdon. When we reached the summit the two girls came across a man who they met a couple of days before, his name was Antoni, a much older man than me. As we all walked on, I noticed he was struggling with his knee on the climb down from the summit, so I offered him my walking pole until he got back on flat terrain. As we walked, we became instant friends, he had an incredible life story of fleeing communist Poland in the late 1980’s to finally end up living in Canada. I also felt a bit concerned for him, he seemed to push himself too hard, he didn’t eat much during the day and was always eager to keep going and resist stopping to rest. As we walked through a sleepy village the two girls decided that their day was done, so we said our goodbyes to them and Antoni and I carried on. Later that evening I could feel my legs starting to struggle so I told Antoni I was stopping in the village of Villatuerta, he had other plans and was determined to get to the next town. We promised we would meet again on the road. I settled into my Albergue and began the now usual routine of clothes washing before the evening pilgrim meal. I sent Ava a text message to see where she was, but she was staying in a village about 10kms behind me. I know I wouldn’t see her again at that stage which felt sad and I started to realise there was going to be as much goodbyes as there was hellos on this journey. I chat to some of the other pilgrims that evening and as always the question usually comes up about why are you walking a Camino? To be continued….

Ultan Cavanagh