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Camino del Norte – On the Trail of the Phoenix
A witty, direct journal of the wild Camino del Norte. No spiritual clichés, just pure, honest adventure and grit. Rise from the ashes like a phoenix!
July 4, 202618 min read
A witty, direct journal of the wild Camino del Norte. No spiritual clichés, just pure, honest adventure and grit. Rise from the ashes like a phoenix!
Note: This post was originally published in German, and its translations into all other languages were generated automatically
We received a message from Tim on our Facebook page. He walked the Camino del Norte and documented his journey on his blog and on Instagram. We could compile his posts into a travelogue for this site.
No sooner said than done.
So here is Tim's travelogue.
April 17, 2016
Another blog?
Yeah, another blog!
And that’s because of the constant transformation. In this case, my own, which I’d like to document here for myself and anyone else who might be interested.
The phoenix (“The Reborn One/The Newborn Son”) is a mythical bird that burns or dies at the end of its life cycle, only to rise anew from its decaying body or from its ashes.
(Source: Wikipedia)
Since a new chapter in my life is about to begin, and since I haven’t the faintest idea what it will look like, I’ve decided to try something new: the Way of St. James—specifically, the Camino del Norte—a route along the northern coast of Spain.
It will probably be just like real life: an unknown path that brings new challenges, decisions, experiences, and encounters every day.
Why does it have to be the Camino de Santiago?
Yeah, so… what’s the reason?
Why does something like that have to be posted on a blog?
That's a really good question…
When you’re on a journey like this, it really shouldn’t matter whether the crazy internet notices, whether the blog skyrockets in search engine rankings, whether affiliate providers offer you countless millions of cents for just as many clicks, whether the thing goes viral like a cat video, or any other nonsense I’m actually trying to avoid…
Who knows?
As my old friend Laozi used to say: “The wise man does not speak; the one who speaks does not know.”
I'm curious to see what happens to me—and to this blog as well.
April 24, 2016
…becomes a companion that should not be underestimated.
I opted for a 45-liter (plus 10) backpack; fully loaded, it weighs in at a whopping 8.9 kilograms.
April 28, 2016
… and best regards from Hamburg Airport. Finally, that sense of wanderlust, curiosity, and excitement is growing stronger.
There’s also a sense of joy, especially at the prospect of even better weather than we already have here in good old Germany…
And gratitude: for the kind wishes and words from my friends and family, and for the chance to embark on a trip like this. Many have said, “Wow, that’s so brave”… But the timing is just perfect right now. So it would be cowardly not to set out on this journey NOW
See you soon from Irun!
April 28, 2016
… in the sense of “It’s awesome”
The approach to Irun Airport gave me a taste of what to expect on my first leg to San Sebastián, which runs along the 545-meter-high Jaizkibel, right by the sea.
Then the walk to my accommodation—it was magical: salt on my lips, sunshine, amazing architecture (I’m sure it has a name, but I’ll stick with “amazing”), cheerful people along the beach promenade, in the tapas bars, and in the cozy little alleys (bustling like bacon sizzling in a pan…)
It felt just right!
And then there was a hat trick of firsts.
But that's just how it is with punk rock: take on the challenge, stay true to yourself, and rise to the occasion!
I'm really looking forward to it!!!
Good evening!
April 29, 2016
…at my place, as young people like to say.
I got off to a really good start!
My host mom, whose name is Maria Jesus (seriously!), had prepared a nice breakfast for me, and then we were off.
Um... where exactly???
I thought, "I just have to follow the yellow seashell, right?!" Two women standing by the side of the road pointed me toward the seashell—one to the left, the other to the right. After a brief exchange in what I thought was a made-up language, they agreed on a direction. On my way to the seashell, I asked at least six other passersby for directions to the seashell.
And there she was!!!
So I’d found my way in, and from there I spent the next 20 kilometers or so walking almost entirely alone along the coast on gorgeous hiking trails, with a short river crossing via a small ferry—it was a dream come true. Oh, and the weather was perfect, of course…
Then, people I met from time to time invited me to spend the night at their religious community. I politely declined.
As I was coming down the hill toward San Sebastián, I saw a sign saying that the pilgrim hostels were already fully booked for this weekend.
Great… back to the Mormons? Nah, I think I'll try out my tent!
But as I strolled through the colorful and bustling city—a stark contrast to the past five hours—a Spanish-speaking backpacker spotted me and pointed out a pilgrim hostel.
There, I actually managed to get a bed and even a computer with a keyboard that didn't have umlauts.
Good night!
May 1, 2016
… pay off.
Summary after 3 days / 60 kilometers -> My hobbit feet look the same as ever: scabby and calloused, but blister-free (I know that’s more information than you actually wanted…)
What else can I tell you?
It feels great! I don't have to do anything, and I can do anything (within my means).
Oh, right, I have one more… A Dutchman, two Germans, a Canadian woman, a Japanese man, and two Italians meet on the Camino de Santiago…
What at first sounds like a bad joke turns into an interesting story about community, enjoying nature, good food and drink, and evenings by the fireplace—a story whose ending I don’t yet know…
But tomorrow is another day!
(I hope I get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep tonight—sharing a room with the other 20 pilgrims)
May 3, 2016
…even if you want to.
Today was supposed to be a tough stage—30 km and 2,000 meters of elevation gain (up and down)—and I wanted to tackle it all on my own, but before I knew it, I was on the road with two new Italians.
One guy, 27 years old, English-speaking, not much exercise—lots of partying, a 13-kg backpack while weighing 65 kg (they usually say the backpack should weigh 10% of your body weight), and just a pair of sneakers on his feet—respect!
The other one, 64 years old, speaks only Italian, a marathon runner and 175-km ultramarathon runner—molto respect!
The two had met and had already been traveling together for two days.
Guess who we had to leave behind halfway through the trip—at their own request and for the reason shown in the picture?
Well, and the other guy dragged me along for 30 km in mountain-goat style—and since it was so nice, he took me another 5 km.
We looked for the hostel in vain…
After asking countless locals for directions in Italian, Spanish, English, and using hand gestures, we were finally rewarded with a fantastic place to stay after another 4 km. We were also treated to fresh eggs and homemade coconut macaroons by the locals. Then there was a delicious pilgrim’s meal (3 courses + grape juice for 8 EUR) and a hostel all to ourselves!
You can't imagine what that means!!! Sleeping peacefully! No snoring! No domino effect when waking up in the morning (one person gets up, then the next, and so on)
Awesome!
Good evening and good night!
May 4, 2016
Hey, hiking gives me so much time to think—about the past, present, and future (wow, I actually know my tenses…)—that it reminds me of a school assignment.
The prompt was: Write a story in the style of Alfred Döblin’s *Berlin, Alexanderplatz*. A great choice—exactly what I needed, since my impressions are running wild due to the stark contrast between the Spanish jungle and the metropolis of Bilbao.
So: 6:40 a.m., the alarm goes off… time to get up, even though I was lucky enough to share the albergue (as the Spaniards call it) with just two other people.
So I could have slept in.
But once again, the 64-year-old Italian mountain goat had inspired me to exceed my distance and performance goals.
It was amazing—10 hours, almost without a word, just the two of us. And then another mountain, up again, down again, up again… and in between, we made some nice new friends, this time two Brazilians… We also ran into the Korean guy from the first day again…
Finally, Bilbao!
A first-class metropolis. What a change of scenery…
Lamberto and I decided to go for the luxury pilgrim option: a hotel room with a single bed and a hot (!) shower (not a given at the albergue). Pure luxury!
I lay on the bed for an hour, motionless, happy, and exhausted as a dog; my back pain eased, I headed for the shower—the warm one.
A quick stop at the pinxto bar next door, right in the heart of the old town. Fantastic.
Off to bed.
Von wegen: „Can you take a picture, please“. “ Si, claro“
The photo showed 10 scruffy punk rockers from Brooklyn; "The Dictators" were on tour in Europe at the time.
I guess I'll just have another beer with them…
The band had to keep going.
But now, back to my luxurious bed. What’s that I hear coming from the bar? “Twisted Again” by Dag Nasty.
Awesome. Well, I could use another beer… and since Spaniards are so hospitable, they (in this case, two women and a man) immediately invited me to the next one.
That was so awesome—I was totally exhausted… but then some guy who was really, really drunk ruined the whole vibe.
Good night!
Wow, I'm well-rested—and best of all, I slept through the night!!!!
I had a standard Spanish breakfast consisting of café con leche, orange juice, toast with jam, and a croissant.
Explore the city!
First stop: Buy a Camelback (hydration bladder for my backpack) and explore the city on foot while I'm at it.
A cultural tour. The Old Town, narrow streets, museums, parks, the river’s charm, cathedrals (plural!), a Guggenheim exhibition—one highlight follows another.
A siesta at the restaurant, a message from the Italian guy we lost track of due to foot fatigue: “Meet in front of the cathedral—wait at the bar,” this time with two other pilgrims.
Another Italian (there are quite a few of them here, at least in my circle) and a Spanish woman.
Then I walked on to get something to eat and ran into a German woman I’d met the day before yesterday, who had a Romanian guy tagging along. But the Romanian already knows me from what he’s heard… crazy.
Now I'm back at the hotel, looking forward to walking the Camino on my own tomorrow.
Well, at least for the first few hours or kilometers. Because one thing’s for sure: the pilgrims’ paths are bound to cross a few more times before we reach Santiago.
And that's a good thing.
Because space and time gradually blur together (When was I where?), but these people will definitely stay in my heart!
May 6, 2016
Today's leg was so visually unappealing that it was time for some auditory entertainment.
Yeah, the music.
Now I know what I’ve been missing. Every song brought back memories of situations and people in the most vivid way. It had me gliding past Bilbao’s ugly industrial outskirts in the blink of an eye, with elegant and majestic dance-like movements (though I’m not sure if outsiders saw it that way!?)
The stretch along the road was really tough, but of course I didn't stay alone for long; I was joined by a pilgrim from Germany whom I had met the night before—my first conversation with a German pilgrim.
And finally, the surroundings changed.
We arrived in Portugalete, today’s highlight of the route. To cross the river to Getxo, we had to pay 40 cents to ride across the 160-meter-long suspension bridge, with its 61-meter-high towers, as it carried us over the water.
A few kilometers down the highway: peace and quiet, lush countryside, and finally back by the water I love so much!!!
There, the sleepy little village—along with its donation-funded hostel—was already waiting for me.
And there they were again—the usual suspects from all over the world, along with others I hadn’t met before. But that was about to change after we shared a meal at De Peregrino…
Delicious food, grape juice, and interesting conversations and stories.
Good evening!
May 8, 2016
It started off really badly… right when I woke up this morning. I’m usually the kind of person who wakes up in a great mood.
This time was different. I’d slept for about an hour the whole night, crammed into a tiny room with 20 other pilgrims, where the air was thick and the acoustics were like those of a lion’s cage.
And no, earplugs didn't help at all!!!
My fellow traveler, who was sleeping in the bunk bed below me, must have been having a dream involving irregular rhythmic movements, which made me feel almost seasick.
Well, it was actually a night like any other… but this time I just couldn't get any sleep.
Around 6:20, the first group began to get ready to leave.
So, here we go. Pack my things, have breakfast, and off we go. It was raining! Not even that unique and extraordinary spot on the green cliffs, which seemed to invite me to do a relaxing round of qigong, could help me relax.
Even the second breakfast and the clearing skies did nothing to improve the situation.
It wasn't until I met up with my friend Don Peregrino Alternativo again that things started looking up (both in terms of my mood and the elevation profile). We had completed a truly profound and fun stage.
And to top it all off, we stayed at a top-notch place where (by chance?) we ran into both of our Camino friends—at a monastery where we could even cook!
Great! Salad, pasta, bell peppers, melon, bread, and grape juice…
I was and still am grateful.
Joy can be so simple!
May 10, 2016
One of the unique aspects of the Camino is that people become—and have always been, and always will be—both the medium and the legend.
I got to know people and their stories that I hadn't known about before.
I had already heard about others from other pilgrims, until I actually met them—or I still don’t know them to this day.
For example:
Have you heard about the Dutch guy who speaks six languages and has been on the road for three months? (He started in the Netherlands—so he’s already covered a good 2,000 kilometers.)
Or the young (and delicate) girl from Tyrol, carrying a 20-kilo backpack?
Or the Peregrino Alternativo, with Italian leather shoes to match the jacket and a hair dryer in your luggage?
Or the Korean man who fainted while running and was “woken up” by the pilgrim behind him?
Or the 64-year-old ultramarathon runner?
Or the 70-year-old man from Stuttgart with a bypass and dementia?
Or the 18-year-old high school graduate?
Or the Italian guy who started out somewhere in Poland, then walked to Rome, is currently on his way to Santiago de Compostela, and then plans to go to Norway???
and and and …
Stay tuned for radio camino!
May 12, 2016
Every day is the same, yet different. And I'm slowly finding my rhythm.
Sometimes alone, sometimes with the inner circle of the “Peregrinos mañana.” It feels good and right every day. I don’t know where I’ll end up in the evening or with whom, but I’m always in good hands.
Well, it was a close call today… here’s roughly how it went:
We arrived in Santander on Monday and the four of us checked into a totally decadent hotel (in true Peregrino Alternativo style… €25 each). After all, we wanted to throw a party, not turn off the lights at the hostel at 10 p.m. (as is the unwritten rule for pilgrims there).
Party on Monday: great idea.
But as is so often the case, things just fell into place for us, and in this instance, it was the best bar the city had to offer that day. Foosball, darts, Erasmus students, and Cuba Libres—a great mix.
We had a pretty good time there, and then we stayed at the beach until 3:00 a.m.
The plan for tomorrow: surfing.
We slept like kings until 7:00 a.m. (the pilgrim's rhythm…)
And then: surfing without waves… hmmm.
All right, so we just hung out on the beach until noon.
But then the Camino called, and we were filled with a sense of anticipation.
But this time, we didn’t want to follow the ever-helpful yellow arrow (the Camino routes are all equipped with this type of signpost, making them pretty foolproof), since we didn’t feel like walking through that dreary industrial area again; instead, we just wanted to stroll along the coast.
“We’ll get there eventually,” we thought to ourselves… it was beautiful!!!
However, we had no sense of direction and were making our way over rough and rugged terrain along the cliffs. It was getting later and later, so we headed back toward the Camino.
When we came across a city map, we realized it was already 6:00 p.m. and we still had 10 km to go to the next hostel. “It might be a tight squeeze,” we thought to ourselves.
Just then, a Spanish woman behind us honked her horn in a friendly way and asked where we were going.
When we answered, she pointed first to her forehead and then to the back seat.
Feeling a bit sheepish but infinitely grateful, we took our seats and were whisked away to our destination at what felt like rocket speed.
It wasn't exactly on her way, but she is, after all, a helpful Spanish woman…
When we arrived at the hostel, we managed to snag the last two available beds. We were completely exhausted and so grateful!
A lovely, cozy, and clean hostel. On top of that, we ran into two pilgrims we knew, and a couple of French people even offered us some food they had cooked themselves.
Things got even better when two elderly Spaniards were handed a guitar by the innkeeper and, in the most traditional style, belted out a few Spanish folk songs at the top of their lungs.
Wonderful!
May 14, 2016
I'm approaching a place and I'm curious to see what it has to offer.
I'm here to explore what this place has to offer.
I walk away from the place and think about what was there.
And all of that at a pace that’s not typical for me.
And then it's already time for the next stop…
And one more thing: I can be sure that the next place I go will bring something new and good!
The idea that I could cover the distance—which takes me about five weeks on foot—in a single day by car, train, bus, or plane is a bit crazy, isn't it!?
But I've figured out why I do it.
Because I can!!!
May 16, 2016
Here’s a quick follow-up on the topic “Hiking is the best way to travel.”
In fact, there are two other fascinating aspects.
One of them is physical exercise.
The other is the amazing flow of thoughts.
The body's own biochemistry is the key factor here.
That’s because hiking at a slightly elevated heart rate not only strengthens the musculoskeletal system but also boosts fat metabolism. Plus, at some point, your brain starts releasing massive amounts of endorphins. When I hike alone, I have positive thoughts, and when I hike with someone else, I have them too—only with the added benefit of conversation.
Awesome!!!
May 16, 2016
Around 6:00 a.m., the morning domino effect kicks in—the first person to start rummaging through their luggage wakes up the others.
Then everyone has breakfast in their own way and at their own pace, says a quick goodbye—like “buen camino”—and off we go.
Some run in groups, some run alone—like I usually do.
It takes about one or two bars (a common unit of time and distance on the Camino), and then I run into old friends and/or new pilgrims, and we have our first, second, or third breakfast together.
Usually consisting of café con leche and a croissant.
Then we'll continue in our current or a new hiking formation.
Maybe a stop at a breathtaking natural wonder, or a stop at the nearest bar, or perhaps even a picnic.
I’ll just let the Camino guide me… “Whatever will be, will be,” as they say in the Rhineland (though I haven’t met anyone from there yet—not yet, anyway!).
I can be sure, however, that I’ll run into at least one person I know by the time I check in at the next albergue.
Everyone walks for their own reasons, at their own pace, covering their own distance, following their own Camino. And every time, it’s a surprise (I never know who I’ll meet) and a joy, because that’s when we reflect on the day’s shared and personal experiences or create new stories.
So I gave up on the idea that I would walk the Camino alone and meet new people every day.
The pilgrims' destination is clear: Santiago de Compostela.
So you can meet up there every now and then.
Only the goal varies, depending on how much time people have available.
That said, it’s nice to have a close-knit group of people around me with whom I can have interesting conversations, cook together, go out to eat, or explore the area.
Today, for example, I had planned to walk another 10 kilometers, but a beer, the group dynamic, and a truly wonderful place to stay (a small cottage with a kitchen, bathroom, garden, laundry service, and the chance to spend time with a hospitable family) made the decision for me.
There was a surprise meal consisting of the edible contents of the pilgrims' backpacks, plus a little something extra from the innkeeper.
After all, tomorrow is another day.
May 17, 2016
Right after I get up in the morning: Today I'm sleeping in a tent!
But I had imagined it would be different. That’s just how it is with expectations…
A wonderful breakfast together at the idyllic, self-sufficient six-person hostel: porridge with fresh fruit and coffee, then a quick tidy-up and off we go.
Today was finally “Camino solo,” which basically means: I’m setting off on my own.
It was a beautiful landscape that slowly passed by, and I had plenty of time to myself and to enjoy nature.
After a few hours of hiking, I was starting to get a little hungry, and the beautiful little town of Ribadesella came at just the right time.
I sat down at a café and was ready to socialize again.
3, 2, 1… Some of my Camino companions—Paul, Mark, Merle, and Jessica—were sitting next to me.
We ate and rode together for a while.
I walked the last 18 kilometers with Jessica and Merle. And something went wrong (maybe it was the beautiful coastal route), because suddenly it was 6:00 p.m., the hostel was still 5 kilometers away, and there was only one bed left (Radio Camino had already informed us of the situation).
We’d shared a lot of experiences that day and wanted to end the evening together, so after a beer to discuss our options, we decided to stand by the roadside with our thumbs out.
Three cars later, a nice Spanish woman gave us a ride (of course)—three smelly pilgrims with luggage in a packed little car. Muchas muchas gracias!!!
When we arrived at the hostel, one of the women took the empty bed, the other took an empty couch, and I was finally able to set up my tent.
After all, I didn't want to have lugged those 2 kilos (including the air mattress) around with me for the last 400 km for nothing.
Stefan, Mark, and Katharina were already waiting for us at the hostel, and we ended the evening with a cozy meal at a restaurant about 2 km away. We ate until we were stuffed for just 9 euros per person!
A sense of joy, delight, and gratitude spread through the room!
May 21, 2016
Of course, the Camino is different every day… the scenery, the hostels, the experiences, the people… but as of today, it’s different.
The entire group of fellow pilgrims—whom I had already grown fond of—who had walked either a day ahead of me, a day behind me, or alongside me, but who somehow managed to run into each other again at irregular intervals, has now dispersed.
Due to changes in plans, the need to track progress, or time constraints.
At the same time, I’m once again feeling a deep sense of gratitude that I have enough time to enjoy the journey at my own pace.
I’ll be meeting new people, but I also really appreciate spending time on my own. That said, I’m realizing more and more what I’m missing: my family, friends, and music!
Thanks to the extremely unattractive scenery along the route, I was able to devote myself entirely to the music—though, unfortunately, it was only recorded music.
But it was absolutely awesome!
And in the meantime, I was able to think a lot about my family and friends.
So the Camino worked its magic again and brought the day to a very positive close.
May 23, 2016
"40 km," Cordula's clever pilgrim guide recommended... she's crazy!
I decided not to make any plans and just went with the flow, thinking I might end up walking 20 or 25 kilometers.
But the weather was perfect for running, and the route was beautiful and varied, winding through forests, small villages, and along the coast. Cordula wrote that I had probably made it through the big cities and that now there was nothing but green countryside and blue coastlines.
She was right.
It was getting later and later, and the sunny weather tempted me to camp in a special spot: a small cove with a steep cliff. Perfect.
That's pretty much how I had imagined it.
May 24, 2016
Today, a small, wrinkled, and warm-hearted man welcomed me at an albergue.
He showed me the most important things: the bed, the bathroom, and the drink machine.
He slept outside in his tent, and I decided to pitch mine next to his. (A night without the snoring orchestra is truly priceless!)
I poured us two cold beers, and he said his name was Antonio.
A cold beer tastes about 100 times better than usual after a long day of hiking in nature—it’s just like that tea at the youth hostel; you always wonder, “Why does it taste so good?” The secret lies in the all-day exercise and the evening reward.
Anyway… after a few minutes of communicating in a mix of English, Spanish, and gestures, he showed me an article from a German newspaper.
The article described his story.
José Antonio Garcia Calvo was the only one of 17 men to survive a shipwreck in 1998; he has been traveling ever since.
He had already clocked an impressive 106,000 km (20,000 km of which he covered by bicycle).
So he’s already traveled around the world more than twice—through Nepal, South America, Europe… unbelievable!!!
When he ran to Rome, he had a conversation with the Pope, and in Tibet he stayed with the Dalai Lama for five days…
Wow!
And right now, he's working as a hostel manager for three weeks.
After that, he’ll naturally make his way to Santiago de Compostela, then back to his hometown of Cádiz, and after that, he’s not sure where his pilgrimage will take him. (Let’s see what tomorrow brings.)
A very special encounter!
When he wished me a “Buen Camino,” I got goosebumps.
May 26, 2016
After packing up my tent and my belongings following a wonderful night's sleep, I was overcome with a strong desire to travel.
All I needed was some food.
But it wasn't long before I came across a bar where I could have breakfast, and shortly after that, a supermarket—I restocked everything and off I went.
After a few kilometers, I came to a junction with two signposts. I chose one path.
And then it was uphill for the next two hours (with a few downhill stretches here and there, but mostly uphill).
Then it dawned on me that this was the 800-meter-high mountain I’d planned to bypass on the pilgrim guide’s recommendation… well:
Always forward, never backward.
But the effort felt good, and I knew for sure that no one would disturb me here.
When I got back to the coast, I ran into a disheartened pilgrim who was looking for a hostel. The nearest one was about 10 km away, and we helped each other get there.
There I also ran into some familiar and dear pilgrims whom I was sure I would never see again.
What a joy.
On top of that, there were two surprises: I had hiked 44 km that day and, after about 600 km, had finally developed a blister—under the callus!!! (“Fascinating,” as my old buddy Mr. Spock would have commented on this oddity).
The day was celebrated in style with a pilgrim's meal and good conversation.
May 27, 2016
Whoops, only 200 km left to Santiago de Compostela…
The distances I cover on foot are starting to feel less daunting. I’ve now hiked through the Basque Country, Cantabria, and Asturias. The routes were characterized above all by beautiful coastal trails, and now the final stages lie ahead.
See you later, dear coast; we’ll meet again in Muxía and Finisterre.
Now we're heading through the heart of Galicia.
And lo and behold, it's beautiful here, too!
The Camino through Galicia is characterized by beautiful scenery and a lack of amenities, such as bars and supermarkets.
An advantage is a disadvantage—and vice versa.
I had a special encounter this morning. Getting up, packing my things, breakfast at a café—no such luck… it was still too early. Oh well, never mind.
I got going without any caffeine to kick-start my day.
A 10-kilometer hike through the mountains with a steady climb. It was breathtaking—both the climb and the natural scenery.
The village I left behind was shrouded in mist; dew dripped from the leaves; the sun came out; birds chirped; crickets chirped; the stream murmured.
And suddenly there was a sign in front of me that read “Breakfast donativo” (which basically means: you get breakfast and pay what you want).
A woman warmly invited me into her garden and served me breakfast—coffee, toast, homemade jam, and cake.
Within a few minutes, I felt right at home. She spoke English very well, showed me around her house, and I helped her with the dishes.
Three years ago, she set out on the Camino to slow down.
After that, she decided to buy and renovate this idyllic little house. She is a painter and offers lodging to pilgrims on a donation basis.
I could have spent the whole day there, but after two hours, the Camino was calling me.
I sat down in the garden for a moment and enjoyed the moment.
Then we said goodbye with a warm hug; she rang the bell above the front door three times and wished me a “Buen Camino.”
May 29, 2016
What a crappy day!
A deluxe hangover (thanks to a great night out the night before, complete with a group cooking session and house red wine for €1.05 a bottle until 2:30 a.m. – I realized my liver was growing in proportion to my leg muscles), Rain, rain, rain, no money, no ATM, no more food, no more water, and my right ankle made me feel every step.
Not even the beautiful forest landscape, with its flooded, soft moss-covered paths, could change that.
The stage was “only” 24 km long. But under those conditions, it felt like 42 km…
Okay, enough whining. I just wanted to note here that the Camino de Santiago isn't all about strawberry cake every day.
BUT: at the end of the day, everything was fine again, of course:
A sense of gratitude and contentment washed over me—a small, private hostel with 10 beds, only four of which were occupied by friendly pilgrims I knew; a fellow pilgrim lent me some money; we had a fantastic meal with homemade cheese and drinks, and a cozy fireplace—basically, a “buen Kamino.”
May 30, 2016
The distance markers on the signposts are getting smaller, and the first street sign for Santiago appears.
I get the feeling that among the pilgrims around me, the urge to finish the journey is growing stronger.
There is a certain sense of collective excitement in the air.
I, too, feel a strong pull toward Santiago—I want to get there, but at the same time I don’t, because then it would be over, or rather, there would only be 100 km left to the end of the European world, to Muxía and Finisterre.
My shoes squeak with every step, and I've already darned my socks twice.
For me, it’s no longer a pilgrimage; it’s just about racking up the miles.
The beautiful green landscape has a profound effect on me—after all, there is no longer a coastline or a sea here.
And the heavy, constant rain puts a damper on the romantic atmosphere of the pilgrimage.
I’m also curious to see what it will be like when I meet hundreds of other pilgrims from the Camino Francés, Camino Primitivo, and Camino Plata in Arzua (from there, it’s still about 50 km).
And, of course, what awaits me in the pilgrimage capital before the Lord. A party? A pilgrimage celebration? Thousands of pilgrims? Commercialization of the pilgrimage?
I'll let myself be surprised…
Maybe it'll just end up being like a big festival without any decent music.
Well, the Camino will take care of it.
May 30, 2016
100 km before Santiago, pilgrims who wish to receive a certificate (Compostella) must collect two stamps per day in their credential.
You can find these stamps at a hostel or a bar.
Since we ran into thousands of pilgrims from the various Routes of St. James today and the place was bustling like a fairground, we decided to stop at every bar for a stamp and a beer.
However, we had underestimated the fact that this route offered pilgrims every conceivable convenience.
So we covered the 25-kilometer route in a full 10 hours and enjoyed the stream of pilgrims in our own special and spiritual way.
We listened in amazement as pilgrims made comments about other pilgrims as they passed by, such as “Those aren’t real pilgrims at all,” or “They’re having their luggage brought along by bus,” or “Pfft, they’ve only walked 100 km.”
Verdict or no verdict, it dawned on me once again:
Everyone walks their own Camino!
June 2, 2016
It was a strange feeling.
The miles flew by, and the stream of tourists showed no sign of letting up; on the contrary, there seemed to be more and more pilgrims all the time… where on earth were they all coming from?
I’ve already walked 800 km and spent the last few days living by the “mañana” philosophy (a special mindset that developed along the way: today I walk, and tomorrow? Tomorrow is mañana!).
Sometimes I spent hours or even days walking along the trails completely alone; other times I was accompanied by a single pilgrim, and still other times by several, whom I chose myself—or perhaps they chose me (or was it the Camino?).
But by then I had to push my way through the crowds of pilgrims.
I finally made it to Santiago de Compostela, stood in the cathedral square, and it was… awful.
Commercialism, commercialism, commercialism—well, even the Camino de Santiago is a business model.
And that sense of relief and elation I had heard so much about never materialized.
It wasn't until I was sitting in my hostel and writing to my family to tell them I had arrived in Santiago that I was overcome by an overwhelming and indescribable feeling.
This city was by no means my destination; the journey there was.
And I wanted to keep going, to Finisterre, but not to burn my belongings there (as was the tradition of many pilgrims before me) and not to smoke my socks either, but to hit the beaches with my friend “Peregrino Alternativo” and catch a few waves.
But first, I took the time to savor this wonderful experience, my personal insights, and the meaningful conversations I had with my fellow pilgrims.
First with just a handful of people in a sunny spot in the beautiful old town, then with an ever-growing group of pilgrims—some of whom I had walked with myself, and others whom someone else had.
I was happy for and about everyone who was with us.
There was a special energy and magic in the air, born of contentment and a sense of community.
I could have spent another week like that, but the Camino to Finisterre was calling…
June 3, 2016
I left the hostel at the usual ungodly hour and joined the line of pilgrims waiting to receive their Compostela, all the while pondering what, how, and where I would go that day.
I wanted to go to Finisterre, to the end of the world… to the place every pilgrim must have visited to experience the spectacular sunset on the west coast.
But first, I had to find a café that served café con leche, croissants, and had Wi-Fi.
Okay, breakfast was waiting for me—where did I want to go? And why?
Finesterre is surely just as crowded as Santiago, and the romance of the pilgrimage was already stolen from me 50 km ago by 1,001 other pilgrims. It’s been quite a while since I’ve had any expectations about experiences or a place…
And suddenly, the idea of spending the next few days with my wonderful wife in a little cottage by the sea became more and more appealing. I had actually planned to visit her in a few days, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind…
The thought was followed by the decision, followed by the click to book the flight, followed by the departure.
I loaded the chickens onto the train and got on board as it raced toward the airport at an unusually high speed.
A few hours later, I had traveled hundreds of kilometers and had finally arrived—in my Santiago!
June 4, 2016
Along the Camino, there are all sorts of monumental landmarks and places of worship to admire.
They are truly impressive, and these structures embody centuries of tradition, craftsmanship, and experience.
However, I am also confronted with the history and ideology of religion (regardless of its form), and for my taste, too much blood seems to drip from the joints of these monuments.
Everyone should be free to find their own faith, and one thing is clear to me:
I believe in love; everything else will fall into place!
June 6, 2016
…for this unforgettable and one-of-a-kind experience.
To my health, especially my feet.
To my family and friends!
To my fellow pilgrims: Christiano, Mattheo, Lamberto, Stefan, Magic Merle, Olga, Bert, Paul, Giselle, Jessica, Marco, Wilfried, Yoshi, Bo, Simon, Kathrin, Katharina, Mark, Astrid, Eva, Mira, Dennis, Marc, Sebastian, Wolfgang, Antonio, Barbara, Achim, Christian, Nina, Philipp, Bego, Paul, Kurt, Nadine, Olli, Alexandra, Jenny, Basti, Harry, Janne, Rainer.
To the hostel managers and all the helpful Spaniards.
Thank you very much!