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Lessons Learned Along the Camino de Santiago
Lessons learned along
the Camino de Santiago
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By Kris Grant
A walk across Spain unveiled gifts that will last me a lifetime.
As I write this, it’s Easter Sunday. I am alone, yet one of 26 million people who watched Andrea Bocelli’s “Music for Hope” broadcast over YouTube, live from Milan’s majestic Duomo Cathedral. Bocelli sang his final song, “Amazing Grace,” from the Duomo’s deserted terrace, with breakaway scenes of an empty Paris, quiet London and still New York. “I was blind, but now I see…” Such an interesting lyric for a blind man to sing, and yet he sang it pure and powerfully, with a hint of a smile at the end, perhaps conveying his hope for what lies ahead. And so I write…
One year ago, on May 8, 2019, I embarked on a journey to walk the Camino de Santiago across northern Spain. Today, I look back fondly and with newfound reverence, to the 45 days I spent in France and Spain, walking solo, yet connected in spirit with thousands of pilgrims from all parts of the world making the journey.
In a nutshell, the Camino de Santiago is a network of pilgrimage trails to Santiago Cathedral de Compostela in northwestern Spain. Sometimes called “The Way of St. James,” tradition has it that the remains of St. James (Santiago) are buried here.
There are about eight established Camino routes to Santiago through Spain, France and Portugal, and I chose the Camino Francés, the most popular route that leaves from the delightful southern French town of St. Jean Pied du Port, at the foot of the Pyrenees Mountains and winds through Basque country, the northern plains, and the mountains of Galicia towards the sea.
Each night, I’d stay in an “albergue,” a hostel for the exclusive use of Camino pilgrims. At each albergue, I’d present my Camino passport and receive an official stamp. At the end of my journey, I presented my stamped passport at the Santiago Pilgrim Office, where it was carefully examined, and I was presented with a Compestela, an accreditation of my trek.
As I walked the Camino, six life lessons – gifts really – were revealed to me that I find are applicable to the far different journey we are experiencing today. So please let me share my trip in that light.
We’re alone but connected.
I am frequently asked, “Why did you decide to walk the Camino?”
Truth is, I wasn’t sure; it just called to me. My friend Mary Sikes said that for her, it was life changing and life affirming. I was moved when I watched the ultimate Camino movie, “The Way,” starring Martin Sheen and directed by his son Emilio Estevez. My friend and Rotary bud, Dan Gensler, and his daughter Brooke, and Father Mike Murphy walked it two years ago, spurred on in part by their Catholic faith and also as a fundraiser for Sister Ethel’s Missionvale Care Center in South Africa.
I’ve always loved travel, adventure and the thrill of seeing what was beyond the next horizon. And, as a recent retiree (and there are many on the Camino), I also wanted a life reboot. I wanted to blow up my “travel” of couch-to-refrigerator. I wanted to delete television, politics and breaking news from my daily routine. The Camino represented a dramatic commitment to a lifestyle change.
If you’re thinking about walking the Camino, you can easily join a community to point the way before you leave. I joined American Pilgrims of the Camino, a group that sponsors several get-togethers and hikes that resemble a typical day on the Camino. On an Orange County hike, I loaded my backpack and walked with 70 past and future Camino pilgrims from the city of Lake Forest to Mission San Juan Capistrano, a distance of 12 miles. And I did it a second time for added confidence. I knew if I could walk 12 miles in California, I could do it in Spain!
On one walk, I met Nina, a teacher, who was leaving the same day as I was. She gave me the name of an albergue in St. Jean Pied du Port that she heard was a great starting point. After
Did I mention that the scenery was gorgeous?
flying to Paris, staying at a hostel there, then taking the train to SJPP, it was a pleasure to see Nina at my first pilgrim dinner at Beilari albergue. I met Dineke from Holland and Julie from New Orleans, my roommates for the next two nights, with whom I would walk for the first few days. Dineke, an experienced walker, then bid us goodbye and shot ahead. Julie liked to leave later in the day, but we often arranged to meet up in the evening at our targeted albergues.
And so, I’d often walk alone, but with hundreds on the 800-kilometer (497 mile) trek, following yellow arrows and blue and yellow scallop signs, pointing the way.
It was always easy and natural to join in conversations over breakfast or lunch at each “bar,” the name for eating establishments in the rural cities, with many strategically located at the entrance of each town, their bright red or green umbrellas calling out to weary pilgrims. And there would often be lively communal dinners at the albergues. Occasionally I’d walk for long stretches with pilgrims from other countries. It was a nice discovery to find that Americans didn’t dominate the landscape, and that the Camino was popular with pilgrims from South Korea, Argentina, New Zealand – you name a country, and I can tell you they were represented!
Day in, day out, I was affirmed in my belief that people are basically good and kind. If I asked directions from a server at a bar or at a local shop, he or she would walk outside with me and carefully point and explain the way, asking if I understood. I never felt brushed off.
The Camino did not disappoint: each day I grew stronger in recognizing that living is really about interacting with our fellow human beings. I loved the many times people passed by me with smiles and the simple greeting of “Buen Camino!” This literally translates to “good path” but is generally received as “good luck and happy traveling.”
There were tranquil days of blissful 70-degree weather and there were a few days where I pulled myself uphill in blinding rain, with sucking mud tugging on my shoes. One morning on the old Roman Road the wind was so cold that I wore my rain poncho to blunt its sting.
Once I dropped a glove and had to backtrack a half mile to retrieve it. In Roncesvalles, I paid for albergue workers to do my laundry and didn’t realize until I unpacked my backpack in Zubiri that my LL Bean pants were missing; they had left them to dry on the line. I wore shorts until I reached Pamplona, where I bought a new pair.
To minimize the possibility of bedbugs (and I never encountered a single one), all pilgrims deposit their hiking shoes on racks at the entrance of each albergue. One morning I was one of the last to leave, and I found just one pair of left. Yes, they were grey Merrells, but this pair was size 9.5; mine were size 8. (And I usually wear a 6.5; pilgrims typically choose two sizes up to allow for foot swelling with all the miles they rack up.) Someone, probably thrashing about in the low light of pre-dawn, mistook my shoes for their own, and off they went! Fortunately, the next town, Sahagún, which marked the halfway point of the trek, was fairly large, and I was able to buy a new pair of hiking shoes, which weren’t great, but sufficient to get me to Santiago.
I could have gotten upset at any of these events, but shrugged them all off, realizing you’ve got to take the bad with the good and that it’s all part of the package.
The lighter the load, the easier the journey.
Months in advance, I began preparing for the trip, selecting a sturdy yet lightweight backpack and filling it with bare essentials. I learned that most pilgrims would pack one pair of long pants, one pair of shorts and no pajamas, a couple of t-shirts, lightweight jacket and rain poncho. Each day we would wake up early to walk, arrive at the next albergue in mid-afternoon, shower, and put on the clothes we would wear the next day, while we washed and line dried the clothes we wore that day.
I found this simple routine to be so freeing, allowing me to enjoy the journey and not the burden of lugging possessions. Possessions, I learned, do not define us, and the amassing of them does not make us more worthy.
The trip was not about accumulating “stuff,” instead, it was about sharing what we had and accumulating friendships and experiences, the real stuff of life.
Slowing down is good for the soul.
The scenery of northern Spain is diverse and also, it’s downright gorgeous. Swaying fields of wheat, dotted with red poppies. Walks cloistered in sheltering trees. Undulating paths with long descents into towns in the far distance, where medieval church towers mark town centers. Walks along acres of vineyards, the source of all the “vino tinta” that accompanied our dinners.
I quickly adapted to a new rhythm of life: walk, eat, sleep; repeat. It soon replaced the hectic and insane cacophony of traffic, congestion, electronics, and hurriedness.
As I moved slowly down the path, I heard the tinkling of cowbells, the “baahs” of sheep, the sound of wind rustling through trees, and, in villages, the ringing of church bells.
Often, the sound of birds, and sometimes crickets, surrounded me. On the first couple of days, I thought there must be homes just beyond the trees, because I kept hearing cuckoo clocks. I soon realized I was hearing the real thing – the call of the common cuckoo, a bird that migrates into Europe each spring.
One of my favorite parts of the walk was the Meseta, Spain’s long and fairly desolate northern plains area. Here, I headed out early each day, using my headlamp in the pre-dawn hours, to
avoid the hot mid-day sun. At times I was the only pilgrim in sight as I looked ahead and back on this vast expanse of waving grain and nothingness. There was often silence, except for the crunch of my shoes and the clicking of my poles on the gravel. I don’t usually meditate, but this aloneness was sort of awesome. I’d look ahead and see nothing; where was that next village? Then a valley would suddenly appear, with a small village tucked in its hollow, along with my bed for the night.
To accomplish a goal, take it one step at a time.
Early in my trip I emailed my friend Sally, who had walked the Camino a year earlier. “Oh geez,” I wrote. “I still have 700 kilometers to go! How am I ever gonna do this?”
“Just put one foot in front of the other,” she advised.
So that’s what I did. I relied heavily on John Brierley’s Guide to the Camino, an annual guide printed on thin paper that maps out the Camino, outlining the elevation highs and lows of each day’s trek, and describing landmarks and albergues in each village.
I made it! Proudly displaying my official Compostela in front of Santiago Cathedral.
I’d begin with an early morning walk on an empty stomach (no worries about bathroom stops!). After 10 or so kilometers, I’d stop for breakfast at a bar. The craving for “café con leche” (which I can’t seem to find here in the states) plus a croissant and orange juice helped pull me forward. I would watch as two or three oranges were squeezed into a machine, which then dispensed the sweetest juice into my glass. After a half hour rest, I’d press on another eight kilometers or so and stop for a light lunch at another bar, usually taking off my shoes, stretching my toes, and changing my socks. And then I’d walk the final eight or more kilometers to my target town where I’d collapse on my bunk for a few minutes, then get up to shower (aah!), and get the day’s laundry on the line while the sun still shined, which, fortunately, it did until about 8 p.m.
I slept so well on the Camino! At all albergues, it’s lights out at 10 p.m., with most pilgrims in bed by 9 p.m. I’d close out the day on my Iphone, under the covers, sending out Facebook posts, and captioning photos. But for the most part, sleep was most welcome after a full day of exercise. My legs and feet often throbbed at bedtime, yet were fully recovered when I awoke, ready for the next step.
There’s a saying along the Camino: “Have no fear, because the Camino provides.” You need shoes? The next city will have them; you need Vaseline for that blister? A fellow pilgrim will give you some. You’re low on water? Miraculously, a water fountain will be just around the next bend. It happened over and over. I found that I could let down my guard.
As I reached Santiago, I realized that the Camino was not so much about arriving at a destination. It was about enjoying the journey itself.
It’s one reason many pilgrims go on more than one Camino. I may go another someday, when the world is again “safe.”
“The Camino provides” is a philosophy that lasts far after the journey itself. I came away with a greater faith in people and their ultimate kindness, more confidence in my own capabilities and more patience.
Those gifts are certainly being validated today, as I watch fellow citizens making masks, while healthcare workers and first responders bravely work the front lines.
About Last Month’s Cover
Last month’s cover concept came from Denise Lyon. While working with the Coronado Floral Association for the theme of the magazine, Denise was inspired by the the season of spring and a garden of boxes.
“This time of year is the season of eggs, baby rabbits, seeds sprouting and everything waking up from its long winter sleep,” said Denise.
She encourages readers to find some containers to recreate the growth of spring. She found six small, individual boxes, painted them and glued them together. As for what she put into each one, Denise explains, “Eggshells are a wonderful container for a little soil and a seed, small plant or bulb. You can use a small wooden crate or box and put something in each section that reminds you of spring. Each section containing something that can later go into your garden and continue growing.”
Denise added a starfish, a memento of our beaches, a gardener’s frog, a bulb, an air plant and two small plants. The label “le printemps” is the French word for spring. Its literal translation is first season. Enjoy your first season.
What’s in Season? Party on Your Plate - Salad!
Everyone knows what a salad is - small pieces of food, most often a mixture of vegetables and fruits either artfully arranged or tossed. Salads offer the chance to create different combinations and experiment with colors and taste. They can be bountiful and beautiful. Buy salads prepackaged or make your own.
Anyway you put it together, salads are so beneficial with many health benefits. Fresh, raw veggies and fruits have vitamins, minerals, fiber and antioxidants. Add protein and you add amino acids. Avocado and nuts help absorb lycopene and lutein. If eaten before a meal, salad can make you feel fuller, and help in weight loss.
There are five types of salad: green or garden filled with leafy vegetables as a base; fruit, a mixture of fruits; rice or pasta with vegetables or fruits added in; dinner salad with a protein base of meat, egg or cheese; and dessert, generally with a gelatin or whipped cream base.
A note on salad dressings: beware the creamy versions if you are counting calories. A simple drizzling of olive oil is one of the healthiest dressings around. Just add herbs, garlic, basil, lemon juice or parsley for flavor.
Salads - easy, simple, healthy. Welcome to the party!
