Pilgrim Passport Stories: What Pilgrims Experienced with Their Credencial

If pilgrim passports could talk, there'd be plenty to read: about rainy days and hospitaleros, about stamps you never forget, and about the shock when that precious booklet suddenly goes missing. We asked pilgrims what stories they've experienced with their pilgrim passport. Here are the most beautiful ones – just as they told them to us.

Dried and ironed

I'm on the Camino del Norte right now and writing this to you from the road. On the stretch to Markina my pilgrim passport got so soaked that it fell apart into pieces.

That made me very sad, because it documents so many individual memories that I associate with my Camino from Aachen via Trier, Metz and right across France to Bayonne.

The hospitalero at the albergue in Markina spontaneously offered to dry the pilgrim passport. Judging by how it looks now, I think he ironed it. Since it was already full of stamps anyway, I'm now using my spare passport, but I'm more careful now and keep the passports wrapped in a bread bag.

(Stella)

A part of the Camino

For me as a pilgrim, the passport is something very special – it's part of the Camino and it stays with you your whole life. Whenever the longing comes, or friends ask you about the Camino, you take out the passport and live the Camino all over again.

I'd say it's also a big thank-you from all the kind people you met on the Camino in the churches, monasteries, hostels and albergues; what's more, they sign off your very own Camino, with all its highs and lows.

I think if I ever lost a passport, I couldn't cope with it and would walk that stretch of the Camino again. It means a great deal to me to know that the passport with its wonderful stamps is mine and to look after it. My children are proud of it too, and they each have one from their Camino, which they walked together with me. I think in later life it's a wonderful symbol and keepsake of their time with Dad.

(Michael Vollmer)

Some of Michael Vollmer's many pilgrim passports

Lost and found

I had spent the night in Larrasoana. Early, around 08:00, I set off for Pamplona. As on the previous day, I was wearing the outer shell of my 3-in-1 jacket when it started to drizzle lightly, and it was pretty chilly too. Under the canopy of a closed bar, I set about zipping the quilted jacket into the waterproof shell.

So I took my pilgrim passport out of the shell's inside pocket and put it on a table.

While I was putting the two jackets together, two fellow pilgrims came by and we exchanged a few words. Jokingly, they asked whether I was waiting for the bar to open for breakfast. Ha ha, I'm certainly not waiting till 10:00. Backpack on and off I went out of Larrasoana.

The first climb was already waiting there. Almost at the top, I patted my pockets again. Oh no – the pilgrim passport wasn't in the inside pocket. I searched all the outer compartments of the backpack: nothing. Ergo, I must have left it on the table at the bar in Larrasoana.

I pictured my pilgrim passport being blown irretrievably away by the wind through the deserted lanes of Larrasoana.

At a quick march back down the hill, I rushed to the bar (which was still closed) and cast a pleading glance over the tables. There it lay, my pilgrim passport, just as I had put it down – thank God.

Visibly relieved, I now stowed my credencial in a waterproof sleeve in my backpack. Because there's no way I'll forget it there.

(Hans-Peter Güldner)

Hans-Peter Güldner's lost and found pilgrim passport

A pilgrim passport and the story behind it – these are tales that most people will still be passing on to the next generation 20 years from now.

Looked at countless times

It's been a while now since our cycling pilgrimage to Santiago. But I keep thinking back to it fondly, and I've looked at the photo book/diary I made of that unforgettable and incomparable journey countless times. My pilgrim passport shows the start date of 13 June 2013 in my home village and the arrival in Santiago. In between lay 34 wonderful days. My conclusion: anyone who wants to get in touch with heaven should set out on the Way of St. James. The pride and joy that come over you when you reach your goal are indescribable. In 34 days we were blessed to cover and experience 2,306 km without any harm to body, soul or equipment.

Warm greetings to you all from Simonswald, Lambert Fehrenbach

I look at it every day

I walked the first half of the Camino in November 2016, from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port to León. The second half, from León to Finisterre, in spring 2017. Two completely contrasting experiences for me. In winter, on the first section, there were very few pilgrims on the way. In spring, by contrast, it got busier towards the end.

I bought my pilgrim passport at the pilgrim office in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. It was something special when the hospitalero at the first albergue pressed his stamp into it and I had officially begun my pilgrimage. Some of the stamps stand out in my memory. Whether because of the stamp itself, the walk to the place where I got it, or the person who put it in. The stage to Roncesvalles, for example, through rain and snow up to the chapel and then the huge monastery complex appearing – I'll remember that forever. The lady who gave me the stamp welcomed me especially warmly, and its size and design stand out too.

Another experience was with my hospitalera in Puente la Reina – Natalie. She insisted on embellishing the stamp personally, making it unmistakable. At the following stamping places, many of the hospitaleros immediately recognised this special part of the pilgrim passport. We then often had to tell them about our experience with Natalie. A lovely memory.

Of course, the stamp you receive in Santiago at the end of the Way to get your Compostela is also special. I almost felt like a child watching the teacher mark their test and check it for mistakes. Whatever happens, I'll always remember the passport as something special and keep it safe.

After I got back, I thought about where and how I could frame and hang my Compostela and pilgrim passport. I then went to the trouble of making a collage out of the “trophies” of my Camino. I had it printed on a large canvas, which now hangs in our living room. The colourful pilgrim passport in particular keeps drawing curious looks whenever friends or family walk past it.

I look at it every day and I'm sure this won't remain my only experience on the Camino.

(Werner K.)

Patched up with plaster tape

I had to buy a new passport along the way in Le Puy because my first one was full. My first one still looks pretty good.

The second one, on the other hand, got soaking wet several times along the way. Unfortunately, some of the stamps are completely blurred as a result. Then, on my way from Muxía to Santiago, it rained so hard that day that a few pages of the pilgrim passport actually tore off.

I threw away the last page, which only had the information on it. But I wanted to keep the others, with the stamps. I tried to repair the pilgrim passport on the way, and since all I had with me was plaster tape, that's what had to do.

Now the passport reminds me not only of the journey but also of the weather.

Two pilgrim passports: the top one stayed dry, the bottom one was patched up with plaster tape.

What the stories teach

So touching and so real: behind every pilgrim passport there's a story all its own. And along the way, these stories show how to get your own passport safely through the Camino:

• Protect it from the wet. Rain is the pilgrim passport's worst enemy – a waterproof sleeve or, at a pinch, a bread bag will save your stamps.
• Don't just put it down somewhere. When repacking, at the bar or during a break: put it straight back in its usual place.
• Keep it safe. At home the booklet becomes a memory for life – whether in a photo book, in a cupboard or as a collage on the living room wall.

And your story?

Do you have a story about your pilgrim passport too? Email us at info@caminoninja.com – we'll be happy to add to this page.