Camino: Looking Back

Last year I took an 11 day trip to Portugal and Spain to hike 100 miles of the Camino de Santiago. I realized that I never did a full follow up of my trip so I figured now was a good time to do that...finally. I learned so many things on the Camino but I will touch on the two most influential. I tried keep my expectations to a minimum so that I wouldn't be disappointed if I didn't have a life-alterating experience. However, I was totally blown away by the experience...all the things I learned and the beautiful people I met in the hills of Spain. 

First, I learned a lot about judging other people. To give you some context, the Camino spans across many countries in Europe, with people starting their journey all along the way. However, in order to get a Compostela, the certificate of completion, a pilgrim must walk at least 100km. Sarria is the town that is at the 100km mark from Santiago, the destination. There is a large influx of pilgrims once you hit Sarria, with many pilgrims walking the minimum distance. 

((Main routes all leading to Santiago))

A large part of the Camino experience is forming relationships with people all along the way...hiking, eating, and staying at the same hostels together. My group wanted to experience that relational aspect and knew that it would be much harder to form quick relationships if we started in Sarria. So, we decided to start in a mountain top town called O'Cebreiro. This would give us enough time to hike 100 miles in 7 days and spend those days with the same groups of hikers. The day before we were to start hiking from O'Cebreiro, we took a taxi up to this tiny, beautiful town. When we got there, there was so much to take in, but there was a definite barrier between us and the other pilgrims around us. As we would come to find out, the hike up to O'Cebreiro was one of the most strenuous days on the entire Camino because of the steepness of the mountain and the intensity of the hike. Of course, we were the group of Americans that took a taxi to the top.

((O'Cebreiro is in the background))

During our first day of hiking, many other people asked where I had started and I was embarrassed to admit that it was my first day and that I had started at the top of the mountain. Many hikers were gracious with their response (many of whom had been hiking for weeks), but I could tell that there was a sense of pride in the fact that they had been hiking for much longer. It wasn't until we came to Sarria a few days later that I could fully understand those emotions myself. I hadn't anticipated how many more people would join the Camino at the minimum starting point. Not only that, but we discovered the presence of a luggage service that would carry a pilgrim's backpack from one destination to the next rest stop so that you didn't have to carry it. I developed a serious sense of pride and judgment as I would look at people who had just started that day, wearing their fancy polo and fedora, while I smelled as gross as I looked (which was pretty bad) and carried my pack every minute of the day. I was convinced that I was a much "better" pilgrim than they were, able to carry my own weight and endure more days of hiking. However God began to challenge me with this pride and judgment as I began to talk to these new pilgrims. Who was I to judge their situation or "strength" on the Camino? I wasn't any better than them, and I wasn't any worse than the people who had started in St. Jean.

I was put to the test during our longest day of hiking (19 miles) in the mid-afternoon when the blisters from previous days were really beginning to set in. The majority of my group had gone ahead to find housing in the next town, and I was lagging behind in pain. One of the beautiful things about the Camino is that you never really have a choice to do anything except keep walking...so that's what I did. Putting one foot in front of the other, I was happy that I was one step closer to my destination. I began to hear spry footsteps behind me, knowing that whoever was coming up would pass me quite quickly. As they came up beside me, we greeted each other with the regular "Buen Camino" that all pilgrims say to one another as they passed. It was a middle-aged couple hiking without backpacks and with big smiles. If I'm being honest, I was not too thrilled to talk to them at this point. I was trying to convince myself that I'd reach the next town by nightfall, and they wanted to have a full conversation. I am so glad that they continued to press conversation because the next few hours became the highlight of the Camino for me. Since they did not have any weight to carry, their pace was much faster than mine, but I had a feeling that I was supposed to talk with this couple. So, I picked up the pace and we began to hike together. As the hours passed, they asked me so many questions about Christianity, which was totally a God-thing because I did not bring it up at all. Our conversation was incredible, and it totally took my mind off of the pain that I was in. I could talk about this experience for hours, but the main point was that the moment I was able to shift my mind from judging them and being extremely prideful and self-centered was the same moment that I was able to form a relationship with people who were searching for answers to life's hard questions. It's not about me. It's not about my pain. It's not about my strength. It's about others. It's about their experiences and questions and struggles and how I can help and encourage them. Reaching our destination that day was the most glorious feeling (almost better than reaching Santiago). As we trudged up the hill (I think almost every destination was at the top of a hill), we celebrated together the accomplishment of a gruesome day of hiking. It was amazing. 

The second major lesson I learned piggy-backs on the first. It sounds so cliche, but the Camino really is a huge metaphor for life. Every day you wake up and have no choice but to go forward. (Quite literally as most pilgrim hostels kick people out mid-morning to prepare for the next round of guests that evening.) Carrying things that are excess of need adds so much weight, and frankly isn't worth it. If we live each day focused solely on ourselves, we will never meet the beautiful people God has placed in our surroundings. Additionally, we will never be able to help and care for others if we are always so concerned with our own pain and issues. The Camino is a culture of helping one another in all circumstances. The Camino is community dinners with people who don't speak the same language, its sharing band-aids for blistered feet, its continual encouragement for the long miles and days ahead, and its getting the fullest experience out of each day, knowing that the destination is not far off. 

((One of our community dinners with people: 4 countries represented at this table))

Since hiking the Camino, each day is a new adventure. It is an opportunity to meet new people and smile at them as I walk by. The Camino was not some big, spiritual revelation experience where I discovered what I was going to do for the rest of my life. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It was a time where I learned to enjoy each day, because you don't get it back and it's beautiful (even if it includes some blisters and troubles and weariness). Sure, some days you will walk through some boring, flat land. Some days you will be in the lowest of low and struggling for the next step. But those lows lead to the mountaintops, which are glorious. Each of those places are all part of the journey. They all have their place and they make life the adventure that it is.

Buen Camino, amigo.