The End

Well, we went a while without an update, sorry about that! And I've got my own computer back, which means you get a monster update for the final chapter of this Camino saga. Make yourself a sandwich, this might take a while.

I did it. It sends huge chills and shivers of awe and wonder through me to even think those three words, much less say them out loud. Makes me smile uncontrollably and hang my head in reverence for what I've accomplished. I walked the Camino Frances from start to finish. Eight hundred kilometers, thirty days from one end of Spain to the other, all one step at a time. I walked up and over the Pyrennes, along the path of the Encerrio in Pamplona, through endless fields of grapevines and vineyards in Rioja, across the flat, vast, dry, hot expanse of the Meseta, along the streets of Leon with balconies exploding with pink and purple flowers, through the fog and rain in the mountains of Galicia, and finally, after days and weeks of sometimes excruciating walking, I made it to Santiago de Compostella.

You can read the story of the Camino all over my body. From my puffy, stiff, calloused and blistered feet; to the slow, measured, pained way I walk; to the way I push myself up out of my seat with my hands to avoid putting undue strain on my knees; to my thin stomach and gaunt cheeks; to the tan on my arms, legs and neck and my long, sun bleached hair. The Camino certainly took its toll, and after the thrill of finally having made it to Santiago faded I was overcome with a sudden, incredible weariness.

Turning the corner and finally seeing the cathedral in Santiago for the first time, where the Camino officially ends, was nothing short of incredible. They say that it's the journey and not the destination that matters with these sorts of things, but reaching the end point of my pilgrimage, this thing that I had been walking towards for over four weeks, was just unreal. It made every 6 AM wake up, every tight and unyielding muscle, every limp at the end of a 40 kilometer day worth it. The last 20 kilometers that I had to walk that day were some of the hardest of the entire trip, and I just plodded my way along for the whole way. The psychological effect of being so close to the end and knowing that I was almost finished really sapped my energy. All of that disappeared when I saw the facade of the cathedral for the first time. It was even bigger than I imagined it, and had such a grand and awe inspiring presence, full of statues and pillars and pinnacles and towers and facades, all of it over 800 years old. I walked the last few steps to a staircase close by, sat down hard and just looked at it, an indescribable feeling swelling in my chest, grinning like an idiot and shaking my head and getting funny looks from everybody walking by. I swear I almost cried, but just as all those beautiful emotions were reaching their peak a gypsy came up shaking a cup and asking for money. Sorta brought me back down to earth, but didn't disturb the atmosphere too much.

And what did I do it for? What kept me going for those 30 days? How did I bring myself to get up so early every morning and hobble out the door of the albergue to the next village? Why didn't I just hop on a bus and head to Madrid or Barcelona or Sevilla and spend what precious, limited time I have left in Europe doing something comfortable and relaxing? Sometimes even my fellow pilgrims didn't understand why I was doing the Camino, since it's hard enough just to get over to Europe as an American and there's so much else to see.

I guess at first I wanted to do something really special to finish this year and bring everything to a close. I've grown and changed and learned and experienced so much ever since September last year when I first arrived in Cologne, fresh off the airplane and totally ignorant of what these past 358 days would be like. It seemed like a good way to finish an adventure like the one I've had--a pilgrimage, not just a backpacking trip, but a journey with a meaning behind it, a reason and tradition and spirit.

At least that was the conception I had of the Camino before I went into it. I had no idea how physically challenging it would be. Sure, I've done weekend backpacking trips with backpacks that were three times as heavy as the one I had on the Camino, but the Camino is no simple backpacking trip, it's a marathon. The endless walking day after day really wore on me, and even after day one my legs were in terrible condition. My first 100 kilometers took me just over four days to complete, which is very slow, but it was an incredible feat at the time, one I celebrated with a long breakfast in Cirauqui. Initially I wanted to walk the whole way of course, but with all the difficulties I was having I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it. I slowed down my pace, falling short of my 25 kilometer goal almost every day, and eventually I came to tell myself, "OK, it'll be great if you can walk this whole thing, but if it's just too hard then you can take a bus to make up for lost time. No shame."

And so the importance of the Camino as a pilgrim's path faded for me. It changed into something I did for the pleasure of it rather than the sacrifice. I wasn't really a pilgrim, I was a sightseer, a tourist. But as I continued walking the power of the thing took hold of me. As I walked I met some amazing, committed people, pilgrims and hospitaleros alike. People who had sacrificed so much time and who had sometimes planned for the Camino for years, who had started literally from their front doors in the Netherlands and France and Austria and who had been walking for months. I stayed in a number of parochial albergues in the backs of cathedrals and churches and monasteries, and felt such love and respect from the volunteers who worked there--hospitaleros who weren't in it to game you for your money, but who wanted to make sure you were as comfortable and taken care of as humanly possible. After spending a couple of weeks on the Camino and really discovering the heart and soul of it I decided to finally give the it it's due. To walk every single painstaking and brutal kilometer and and pay the respect to it that it deserves.

The reward of reaching the end has been incomparable. Knowing that I was capable all along of walking the whole thing from beginning to end, meeting so many wonderful people from so many different countries and walks of life and being able to hear their stories, turning the corner of that alley and seeing the cathedral and feeling that incredible rush of knowing that I'd done it, that made every centimeter, every pained step of this journey worth it, and I am so glad that I had the chance to experience it.


And that, as they say, is that! I hope you enjoyed reading, I enjoyed writing it down. With the end of the Camino de Santiago my travels are over, and on Tuesday I'll finally be flying back to the USA after a year away. Until next time my friends :)