WHAT IS IT LIKE TO WALK THE CAMINO FOR THE FIRST TIME: A DIARY.
Walking across Northern Spain for 30 days sounded like the perfect start to my new nomadic life. A good old-fashioned pilgrimage. Cliché as it sounds, I had just commenced my own “great resignation”. After hearing friends talk about the physical and emotional challenge of walking the Camino de Santiago, I felt it might be exactly what I needed to cleanse my corporate demons.
I imagined roughing it with fellow pilgrims, sleeping in bunk beds and carrying everything I owned on my back. I pictured Dick Whittington, but with an Amazon Fresh 30L backpack. Here’s how I fared on my first time walking the Camino.
The Start of walking the Camino
All set to begin my rewilding journey, I packed my knapsack and flew to Biarritz. Not the most obvious starting point for the trek of a lifetime, but it’s the nearest airport to the small Spanish town of Irun, otherwise known as the official start of the Camino del Norte, the Northern Route.
There are various Camino routes, all converging in Santiago de Compostela. I opted for the Northern route because it sweeps through Bilbao and San Sebastián and hugs the coastline for much of the journey.
After locating my pension for the evening, I headed to the municipal building in Irun to collect my pilgrim credential. Essentially, it’s a concertinaed piece of paper that becomes your all-access VIP pass to pilgrim accommodation along the trail.
The next morning, we enthusiastically set off at dawn, creeping around in the dark so as not to wake our fellow walkers. A move we would perfect over the coming weeks.
Stepping out onto the streets, we searched for our first yellow arrow and scallop shell, the symbols of the Camino that guide pilgrims all the way to Santiago. Within five minutes, we were completely lost and accepting directions from a confused-looking German pilgrim who admitted he’d spent the night sleeping under a bus shelter. Needless to say, he was not a trusted source.
The first day flew by. A relatively short 25km hike along shady woodland trails eventually opened out onto the harbour town of Pasaia. We took a short boat crossing, a novelty on the route, before tackling a steep climb that eventually revealed San Sebastián in all its glory. A pretty spectacular reward for anyone walking the Camino for the first time.
Arriving in San Sebastian
San Sebastián is, of course, a gastronomic powerhouse, so we rewarded ourselves for completing day one by immediately throwing ourselves into the pintxos bars lining the cobbled streets.
We consumed numerous Kalimotxos, a fairly noxious mixture of red wine and Coca-Cola, only to later realise we’d managed to spend nearly a week’s budget drinking wine. Not especially pilgrim-like behaviour.
From then on, we vowed to be considerably more restrained and the next night checked into the most basic albergue we could find.
Upon arrival, we were given 10 minutes to lock away our belongings and remove our hiking shoes. Presumably this was to stop anyone bringing bed bugs into the dormitories. The Camino has, in the past, become somewhat infamous for the little cretins. Still, the whole thing felt slightly like entering prison.
Men and women were separated and sent to the sinks to wash our sweaty hiking clothes by hand. One of the first real shocks of walking the Camino for the first time.
The next morning started early. Pilgrims crept around in darkness, quietly peeling clothes from drying racks and queuing for the €1 coffee machine.
The men in our group spent most of breakfast discussing an incredibly loud snorer who had apparently kept the entire dormitory awake. I heard rumours that torches had been shone directly into his face and yet he had continued, undeterred, with his train-like snores.
Feeling smug and deeply grateful to have slept amongst the very quiet and considerate women, I set off for the hills feeling refreshed.
The next few days blurred together as we climbed endless hillsides and wound through tiny Spanish towns on our way to Bilbao.
Lazy Glutes as I walk the Camino
About a week in, I started to really struggle with the walking portion of the Camino, which is admittedly quite a significant issue on a long-distance hike.
An old knee injury, which I’d previously been told was caused by an inflamed fat pad, had flared up badly. I’d packed a knee brace as a precaution, hoping it would remain firmly in the “just in case” category, but after 10km each day I was relying on it completely.
Sitting on top of a hill, I threw my backpack onto the ground and commenced what can only be described as a massive sulk.
“I can’t go on,” I said through tears. “It’s too painful.”
A fairly classic first-timer response to walking the Camino.
My partner, unsure how best to respond, thought carefully before saying, “You kind of need to, darling. You’ve got to figure this out.”
That day we stopped early, pulling up well before the marker point we’d planned to reach. We sank a few drinks, consoled ourselves and booked an emergency Airbnb for the evening.
I spent hours Googling “walking with knee injuries”, desperately trying to devise a way forward. Somewhere deep in the internet, I discovered that knee pain can sometimes be caused by lazy glutes. Apparently, years of sitting at a desk can cause your posterior muscles to effectively switch off.
The next morning, after our Airbnb host cooked us an incredible, if slightly reluctant, breakfast at 5am, we set off again.
Armed with my new mantra, “recruit the glutes”, I exaggerated every heel-to-toe movement as I walked.
Who knew I’d be relearning how to walk properly in my thirties?
Quite miraculously, it worked. The knee pain disappeared and, touch wood, it’s never returned in quite the same way.
Marvellous.
Trucking on to the end of the Camino
From there, we left the Basque Country behind and entered Cantabria.
By this point, our routine was firmly established. Wake early, hit the road and spend the first few hours listening to podcasts in near silence, a period we referred to as “logging on”, while thinking of little beyond where our first coffee might come from.
As the scenery rolled by, we chatted absent-mindedly, waved at fellow pilgrims and talked nonsense while our minds remained almost entirely focused on lunch.
Sometimes we picnicked on cliffs overlooking the sea. Other days we were less organised and desperately searched Google Maps for anywhere willing to sell us a croissant. On one memorable occasion, this resulted in lunch consisting entirely of a vending machine packet of pork scratchings.
Afternoons became all about reaching the albergue, getting our credentials stamped and locating more food and drink to celebrate the end of the day.
A glass of red wine. A quick beer. Increasingly, a generously free-poured gin and tonic courtesy of a sympathetic barman.
Occasionally there were wonderful communal meals shared with other pilgrims. More often, we sat opposite one another eating random snacks in exhausted silence, secretly hoping it was close enough to 9pm to justify going to bed.
Asturias, Galicia and Onto the End of the Camino
Eventually, we crossed into Asturias, drinking cider and eating enormous plates of cachopo before winding our way into Galicia with its sweeping beaches and crisp Albariño.
By then, I could feel the end of the Camino creeping towards us.
The blisters were still there. So were the aching feet and chronic sleep deprivation. But alongside all of that came something else: nostalgia.
A strange sadness that this strange little life we’d built, walking, eating, sleeping and repeating, was almost over.
And underneath it all, gratitude. Gratitude that I’d been able to do it at all.
Since then
Since finishing our first Camino, we’ve gone on to walk more – much more. Needless to say, we are now much less “green” when it comes to the Camino. On this website, you can find a comprehensive selection of guides to walking different Camino routes – find it all here.
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