Reflections on 200 miles of the Camino Frances

Two hundred miles on, am I glad I started? Yes.

That’s the simple question out of the way. Now let’s go through a few negatives and the many positives - and a few 'hard to classify' impressions.

Negatives

It’s crowded. You rarely have the path to yourself. We may have had a few hours with nobody in view in front or behind, but that is 10 hours or less out of perhaps 100 on the Way (though I wrote this two days before having hours of empty Camino walking on two consecutive days - the buses must be crowded). It bothers me less than it did at the start but, if one of your major criteria for enjoying a good walk is ‘hardly saw a soul’, this might not be for you.

Working out accommodation and meals is fraught. Recommended places to stay are often cute but lack facilities. I have spent a lot of time thinking ‘I wish I had stayed there’ when viewing the nicer looking places that were not on our list but it’s always been too late – we were booked elsewhere. One effect of so many people doing the Camino is that there are races for the cheap albergues (donation–only places, parish albergues and municipal albergues). Few of these take bookings. We have opted to book ahead but it means that you have to stick to your schedule and that’s limiting. On the brighter side, I quite like booking and being ‘Lorenzo d’Ingleterra’, which is usually the preferred name. Meals are limited in variety and we’ve struggled with the breakfast and lunch options – bread or more bread most of the time.

I am fed up with conversations about where I come from. Nobody knows where Wiltshire is and we have tended to suggest that we live at Stonehenge (under a rock) just to simplify matters. I am also fed up with conversations about Brexit and Trump - but that was true before we set off too.

Making a cup of tea in an albergue kitchen is hard. Either there is no kettle or no mugs or cups. I have had to resort to heating water in a microwave on two occasions. We nearly wept with joy when both kettle and mugs were available.

Shared showers are mainly badly designed. The cubicle next door will wash your feet just as you dry them. The designers have often failed to grasp that water will take path of least resistance and, as a result, bathroom floors are flood plains. Dressing after a shower requires the skills of an Olympic gymnast.

There are people who snore more than me and too many people who get up at 5.30 in a shared dorm. Many of these are the ones who complete their journeys at 1 pm and then spend all afternoon asleep – having done the Camino but seen nothing. The heads down, music on brigade leave me feeling sorry for them.

I overhear a lot of ‘pilgrims’ talking about taxis and buses. Not sure I should care but I do a little. It’s cheating.

And cyclists are a bit of a pain (though less than I expected). A cheery cry of ‘Buen Camino’ presages the crunch of tyres on gravel and often means ‘get out of the way or I’ll run you over’. On the upside, it is fun watching them push a bike uphill.

But, astonishingly, that’s about it for negatives.

Positives

The Way goes through some stunningly beautiful countryside. Awe-inspiring views come so thick and fast that anything less seems boring. I would very happily walk these tracks again just for fun – perhaps two days in and out of Logrono excepted. Navarre was wonderful; the supposedly boring meseta is gorgeous.

The wildflowers have been astonishing. Banks upon banks of them. Variety and colours seemingly limitless. We have been incredibly lucky to pick this time of year.

Many of the small towns have been stunning – Los Arcos, Viana, Obanos spring to mind but so many have had impressive churches or some striking feature. And when I say ‘striking’, I don’t mean ‘interesting’ – I mean ‘Wow’.

The people of Spain are so welcoming. Old ladies in small villages, young men in large cities and everyone in shops and bars wish you ‘Buen Camino’ and, crucially, they seem to mean it. Small kindnesses and many smiles – they have added so much.

The many other pilgrims we have met have almost all been open and a pleasure to spend time with. Some have been fascinating. Of course there has been a tendency to spend more time with those fluent in English but we have enjoyed the company of people from almost every corner of the globe, though Africa is scarcely represented (a few white South Africans only).

I like walking and have suffered no pain and am rarely even tired. 67 years of practice at walking have really paid dividends and I am just a little proud of my skill in this area!

And the birds, I almost forgot the birds. Birdsong from larks on the meseta, nightingales in the scrubland around Navarre, storks on the church roof, the occasional bird of prey - it is a banquet of birdlife. There are lots of cuckoo calls too – so rarely heard in England now; there are times when it is like walking through a Swiss clock shop.

Did I mention that the landscape is beautiful?

Difficult to classify

I am struggling to classify three of my impressions.

First, my sense of smell seems to be at its most acute. This sounds great and is when we pass blossom or mown grass. But it’s a mixed blessing in some of the albergue dorms.

Secondly, I have seen more women in their knickers than I have in all the rest of my life. I am hard-wired to believe this is a good thing, but the reality is different.

Thirdly, and more seriously, It has been moving at times. I don’t know quite how to cope with some of the feelings I have had in a few of the smaller churches. Something in the place or the genuine Christian love and charity of a guide has touched me on two or three occasions in a way with which no committed atheist can feel comfortable. Highly emotional moments that I will ruminate on.

For a fuller picture of our journey, Hazel's blog at https://caminoassets.home.blog/ is a more detailed, and better, read.