After walking 538 miles across Spain in 42 days, from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port in France to Santiago de Compostela, I find myself missing so much about the Camino.
I miss the people from every corner of the world, young and old, some eager to share their stories, others quietly keeping to themselves. I miss the conversations, both brief and lasting, and the simple greeting that followed me every day, Buen camino! I miss the laughter around crowded dinner tables, the chance encounters over a café con leche, and the warm smiles of shopkeepers in villages along dusty paths, and busy plazas.
I miss the endless green fields of barley and wheat, stretching toward the horizon, with a narrow ribbon of trail leading me forward. I miss the reassuring yellow arrows, the cobblestone streets of sleepy villages, the sandy paths and even the rugged, unforgiving rocks of the Pyrenees. I miss the inexpensive wine, the cold mugs of cerveza, the crusty bread, the savory ham and cheeses, and the simple pleasure of warm goat cheese atop fresh arugula, sprinkled with walnuts and sweet cherry tomatoes. Somehow, even the simplest meals tasted extraordinary.
I miss the cathedrals, grand and small. The great ones, with their soaring naves, ancient paintings, and solemn statures. The hushed reverence, the shuffle of footsteps echoing through vast stone interiors, and the little chapels, tucked away in quiet places, where flickering candlelight softened the shadows and time seemed to stand still.
But most of all, I miss the simplicity of being a pilgrim.
Wake up. Walk. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.
Each morning, I put on the same clothes, shoulder my pack, and follow the yellow arrows toward a single destination, Santiago de Compostela. Nothing more was required of me. No schedules to keep, no endless decisions, no burdens beyond the miles ahead and the weight on my back. Life had been stripped down to its essentials, and somehow, by having so little, I felt I had so much.
The Camino was physically demanding and, at times, mentally exhausting. Yet within its simple rhythm, I found a quiet peace. Somewhere between the long miles, the unexpected friendships, the solitude, and the beauty of the Spanish countryside, I discovered parts of myself I had never known. The Camino asked me to slow down, to pay attention, and to appreciate what I might otherwise have passed by.
Perhaps that is the gift of a pilgrimage. You begin walking across a country, but somewhere along the way, you begin walking inward. You arrive at your destination changed, carrying home memories of places and people, but also a deeper understanding of yourself.
Now, back home, I find myself longing for the life I left behind on those Spanish trails. I miss the people, the places, the rhythm, and the peace. I miss the freedom of not knowing exactly what the day would bring, trusting only the path beneath my feet and the arrow pointing the way.
The miles are behind me, but a part of me remains there. In the quiet villages, the open fields, the ancient chapels, and the footsteps of fellow pilgrims moving toward a common destination.
Oh, how I miss my Camino!
Buen Camino, my friends. Until we meet again!
I completed the Camino Frances, in 2023, with my buddy Doug and was so moved by the experience, I completed the Portuguese Way and the Camino Finisterre in 2024. God willing, I will return to retrace my footsteps on the Camino Frances in 2027, with Doug once again, in hopes of once again finding peace.
