Life lessons from the Camino: What a retired Winnipegger learned on her 800-km walk

Ten years ago, I decided that when I retired, I was going to go on a walk.  

Not just any walk, but an 800-kilometre, month-long kind of walk.

In other words, the Camino de Santiago ancient pilgrimage — a walk that begins in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, France, and ends in Santiago, Spain.

So this past fall, to kick off my retirement, I filled my backpack, laced up my hiking shoes and, with a Winnipeg friend, headed to Europe.

North Americans are often introduced to this historic walk through popular culture, like the Martin Sheen/Emilio Estevez movie The Way. There was even a Korean reality series about it (Korean Hostel in Spain).

Regardless, pilgrims have been walking the Camino for religious reasons since the late Middle Ages.

Really, nothing could prepare me for the physical and mental challenges that lay ahead.

Their goal was to make it to the Cathedral of Santiago, where (tradition has it) the remains of the Apostle St. James are held.

The conditions for those early pilgrims were harsh, and many who undertook the walk died along the way.

Today, there is an entire network of routes throughout Europe that lead to Santiago. We chose the Camino Frances, also called the French Way.

It takes most people about 35 days to walk it. I gave myself the goal to complete it in 31 days, to mark 31 years since I began my career.

I trained for it by going on long walks leading up to my departure. 

But really, nothing could prepare me for the physical and mental challenges that lay ahead. 

Lofty notions

We had lofty notions about the walk, including strolling into a village and having our choice of places to sleep for the night. In reality, though, there were twice as many pilgrims setting out in September as there were places to stay.

On our very first day — after walking the strenuous uphill climb over the Pyrenees — we walked for 35 kilometres before finally finding accommodations at 7 p.m. They were the last two beds in a hostel in Espinal, a Spanish town near the border with France.

I wondered what I'd gotten myself into.

The next several days were equally physically challenging, because you hike through the Pyrenees and terrain is difficult. They call this the first stage.

The second phase — the Meseta (Spanish for plateau) — is mentally challenging, because the terrain is flat and the weather can be harsh. 

Early on, I wondered whether or not we would complete this journey. 

Many people do quit. There are memorials along the way to mark where modern day pilgrims have died.

I was reminded that what's important in life is not stuff, or a fancy home or big achievements.

We were exhausted and it was difficult walking through the varied terrain, from rocks to slate, up and down hills. Plus, blisters were forming, and they made it even more painful to walk.

The Camino pushed me outside of my comfort zone, that's for sure. 

Soon, however, I began to feel stronger and looked forward to walking each day.

'A metaphor for my life'

We got into a routine of leaving early, in the dark. Around 8 a.m. we'd stop for breakfast at a café. We'd usually pause for another coffee later in the morning, followed by lunch. Our day ended early to mid-afternoon, depending on the difficulty of the trails. 

By this point, the Camino had become a metaphor for my life. 

I was saying goodbye to my old job. My new job was walking all day, taking care of my blistered feet and embracing mini moments of joy along the way.

There was the delicious café con leche we savoured. The locals saying "buen camino!" (literally, "good way!") to us. One time it was an elderly couple roasting red peppers, just outside their front door.  

Another time we came upon a woman playing her accordion, seemingly just for us, as if she knew we needed a distraction from our "job."

The final stage of the walk, into Galicia, represents rebirth into a new life. It's described as spiritual. And for me, it was.

I felt joyful, walking through forests, enveloped by the smell of eucalyptus trees.  

What a luxury to spend so much time outdoors. To have time to think and to meet people from around the world. It's amazing how you can learn so much about someone, just by walking and talking, sometimes for hours.

How often do we get that chance in our everyday lives?

One of the first questions people ask each other is "Why are you walking the Camino?" 

One young man said he was walking so he could decide whether he wanted to stay married. An Australian woman joined her dad at the last minute, after her mom was injured and couldn't go. There was a woman from California who was spreading her husband's ashes at certain points along the way.

For five weeks I carried everything I needed on my back. I was determined to travel light. It made me think a lot about how we are burdened by our belongings.

I came home inspired to live a simpler life, with less stuff. 

It was the best feeling to arrive in Santiago on Day 31, with my Camino "family" — people I met and walked with along the way. My new friends from Argentina, Sweden, England and Canada.

In short, I was reminded that what's important in life is not stuff, or a fancy home or big achievements. What matters most are the people in our lives, sharing a meal, good health and being grateful in general.  

I thought about how no matter what happens, the sun always rises every single day.

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