It’s 7am in the morning, and the trail in front of me is barely lit by the LED headlamp I’m wearing on my head. I’m up earlier than I have been over the last few days, mainly due to the orchestra of snoring in my albergue room throughout the night.
Yesterday I limped my way into town, hobbling in pain due to sore knees and a pair of star-crossed blisters on my feet. I had been chewing ibuprofin for the last 12 hours, hoping it would take away some of the pain in my knees and allow me to continue on today. But after only about 10 minutes of walking this morning, both of them are once again screaming in pain.
I stop and stare at the dimly-lit rocky descent in front of me, wondering how in the hell I’m going to walk the twenty or so kilometres to Pamplona today considering I can hardly bend my knees at all. Yesterday it was mostly the downhill portions which bothered me, but today it doesn’t matter what the grade is, both knees hurt constantly. Left with no other choice, I do what I must to carry on – I turn around, dig my walking sticks into the mud and start the descent, walking down the hill backwards, one painful step at a time.
Only 748 kilometres to go.
Deciding To Walk
I first heard about the Camino de Santiago from my friend Blair. Him and his wife split a few years ago, and he decided it would be an opportune time in his life to walk some of the pilgrimage route. I watched his Camino from afar on instagram, and thought it would be a really interesting experience if I ever had the chance.
Last October my company sold, which set the stage for an extended period of travel this year. While I spent a few years travelling with my laptop years ago, most of the time I was working remotely and wasn’t able to get out and see as many things as I had wanted. So for this trip, I decided to visit some of the areas I hadn’t been able to before, and to hopefully spend a lot more time walking around with my camera and chatting with locals.
So when I started making plans for my extended vacation abroad, I decided I would walk the Camino de Santiago, eventually ending up in Santiago de Compostela. My original plan was to only walk the last 200 kms or so, which would have taken about 10 days or so. After thinking about it for a few weeks, I decided to walk a little more, and opted to start in Leon and walk the roughly 300kms to Santiago. But about six weeks before my trip I was sitting in a bar having a few introspective beers and decided I would instead start in St. Jean Pied de Port, France, roughly 800 kilometres away from Santiago de Compostela. I can’t really explain what led me to that decision, only that it felt right at the time.
The Preparation
Several of my friends had walked portions of the Camino de Santiago previously, so I took whatever advice I could from them during my planning. None of them had attempted to do the entire 800km walk though, so at some level I was charting new ground.
I spent a lot of time picking out a nice pair of walking shoes, shopping for clothes, and also doing what I could to make sure my pack was as light as possible. When I set out for the airport to catch my flight to Europe, I was pretty happy that my pack was only about 15 lbs – it seemed like many people on the internet forums struggled to get their packs under 20 lbs.
In terms of training, I did three or four hikes before I left and as much walking as I could fit in. Unfortunately the weather back in Canada was pretty dismal before I set out, so I didn’t get in as many as I had hoped. But I had hoped at least that my shoes were broken in and my legs in decent enough shape to attempt the Pyrenees.
The Journey To France
My route from Canada to St. Jean Pied de Port included a brief stopover in London, which I always enjoy. While I only had 24 hours or so in the city, I made the most of it with a quick visit downtown and a pub night where I made a few new Instagram buddies. In the morning I woke up and took transit to the location where the Gatwick Express would pick me up.

New Friends in London
I chose to fly into Biarritz, France, which is the closest airport to St. Jean Pied de Port, France. The flight was pretty uneventful, and I promptly found my suitcase that contained the majority of my Camino gear.
I had pre-booked a shuttle to St. Jean Pied de Port, and eventually located it. Apparently there were seven other people who were supposed to be in the Van with me, but for whatever reason there were eight there, one more than there were seat belts available for. Since nobody owned up to being in the Van without an official booking, the driver was forced to do a roll call with everyone’s name. As it turns out, someone did indeed sneak on board the Van, hoping to get a free ride to St. Jean Pied de Port, France. Once that person was identified, they were politely asked to leave, which they did. As the side door of the shuttle slowly slid shut, I couldn’t resist wishing “Buen Camino” to the sneaky guy we were leaving behind.

Arriving in St. Jean Pied de Port, France
An hour later we were all in St. Jean Pied to Port, France, a quant little town in France whose name literally means “St. Jean at the Foot of the Pass”. I found my hotel and promptly checked in, then wandered down the street to find my first pilgrim’s meal. Pretty much every establishment on the Camino offers some type of meal that caters to pilgrims, usually consisting of a starter, an entree, a desert and some wine. The establishment I found ended up providing one of the better meals of my entire Camino trip – vegetable soup, chicken with roasted potatoes, and a little chocolate desert.
After dinner I retreated to my room and spent the evening packing my backpack for the trip. When I went to sleep I had my suitcase (which I planned to ship to Santiago in the morning) all packed, and my backpack (which would contain everything I would wear for the next 35 days or so) waiting in the corner for the morning.

All packed and ready to go
Setting Out
I had my first real setback of the Camino first thing in the morning. I woke up relatively early, and went downstairs to settle up my bill. Nobody was at the front desk, and despite me ringing the little bell over and over, nobody was coming to my aid. Not only did I need to pay my bill, but I had arranged a company to pick up my suitcase and take it to Santiago for me, and needed to sort that out with the hotel.

First stamp in St. Jean Pied de Port
I was starting to panic a little bit when eventually someone appeared to help me out. I paid my bill quickly, then asked the owner if they could keep my suitcase there until the shipping company (ShipMyBag) picked it up. He told me just to place it in the lobby and it would be fine. Since my suitcase contained my laptop and all my camera gear (probably about $8,000 worth of electronics), I didn’t like that idea. I asked him if he could store my bag in a back room or somewhere more secure, but he declined to do any more for me.
The previous night I had seen an advertisement for another company that also shipped to Santiago, so I decided to go walk down and talk to them quickly. They were located beside the pilgrim’s office, and for 70 euros would physically take my bag from me and ship it to Santiago. I was basically tossing the other 60 euros in the garbage that I had pre-paid for that other company to pick my bag up for me, but I wasn’t willing to leave my suitcase in the lobby for a full day, so I just ate the extra cost in exchange for piece of mind.
I left before breakfast was ready in the hotel, but I was anxious to get started since today was going to be a long day. I figured in the worst case scenario I would have some food at Orisson, but hoped I would encounter something along the walk where I could get something to eat. Sure enough, about 5 minutes away from my hotel I encountered a beautiful bakery with fresh pain au chocolat, one of my favourite baked goods. I picked up one to go, and set off to cross the Pyrenees via the Napoleon route, which had apparently just opened – it was April 3, 2017.

Early morning pastries before the ascent
Day 1 – St. Jean Pied de Port, France to Roncesvalles, Spain, 29km
There are two possible routes a person can take from St. Jean Pied de Port to Roncesvalles, Spain – the Valcarlos Route, or the Napoleon Route. The Napoleon route is the more difficult of the two as it involves a roughly 1200m elevation gain and as such is subject to more freakish weather. The Valcarlos route is open year round and only involves a 800m elevation gain, so many people opt to go that route even when the Napoleon route is open. I was determined to do the Napoleon route if it was open primarily because it was supposed to have some of the best scenery of the entire Camino. Luckily for me it was open (or at least the pilgrim’s office said it would likely be open in the morning – after the fact I was told it was in fact closed, but if that were the case me and the other 100 pilgrims that took it apparently didn’t get the memo that day).

Climbing to Orisson
I knew that the climb today would be gruelling but it was even harder than I imagined. I knew at about the 800m elevation point was a stop called Orisson, and I kept waiting for it to magically appear in front of me. But it seemed like we were just endlessly climbing with no end in site. By the time I reached Orisson, I was completely exhausted. I remember at one point I took my rain jacket off and was promptly surrounded by steam from my sweat.

Horses on the Napoleon Route
Many people stop in Orisson for the night and do the second part of the Pyrenees crossing the next day. That hadn’t been my plan, but I was out of steam. I asked at the counter if they had any rooms available, and amazingly enough they did (normally people reserve them far in advance). The lady told me that because the route is typically closed this time of year, they don’t typically start taking reservations until mid-April. So basically if I wanted a room, I could have one.

Arriving at Orrison
Not wanting to admit defeat so easily, I decided to take a rest and think it over. I purchased a coffee and my first bocadillo (a Spanish sandwich consisting of 99% bread and 1% fillings, quite popular amongst pilgrims and prisoners alike), then put my feet up and relaxed for a while. It was here that I made my first friend of the Camino, a dutch traveller named Anouk.
After about 30 minutes, I walked over to the water fountain and filled my bottle up. The coffee and food had reinvigorated me and I decided to push on for Roncesvalles. I tossed my backpack back on, grabbed my walking sticks and started the long climb again.
As it turns out, the worst was thankfully behind me, and the climb up to the peak was a lot more gradual. That’s not to say it wasn’t tiring as well, because it was, but I didn’t really have much more difficulty that day, certainly nothing that the odd break couldn’t take care of.
At some point during the climb I started feeling that my toes were rubbing in my shoes (never a good sign). Since I didn’t want to start my first day with blisters, I made the decision to switch to my sandals for a while. My feet immediately thanked me, and I felt pretty bad-ass crossing the Pyrenees in some sandals. Unfortunately for me though I encountered snow at the top, and decided to just press on. What that meant is that my feet started to get cold, wet and moist. The cold didn’t bother me, since eventually my feet got a little numb. But after a while I realized it was probably a mistake to continue on in my sandals, even though my feet were hurting. So I pulled out a fresh pair of socks, did my best to dry (and warm) my feet, and migrated back to my shoes.

Near the top of the Napoleon Route
I walked with Anouk and another Italian guy for most of the day, making the crossing mid-day from France into Spain, and eventually made it to Roncesvalles sometime around 3pm I believe.

Final forest before Roncesvalles
My routine in the future would involve heading straight to an albergue to secure a bed for the night, but after the success of crossing the Pyrenees that day, I had the same idea as most other pilgrims in Roncesvalles – most of us headed straight to the bar and proceeded to have some celebratory beers.

Celebratory Beers
Looking back it was such a great feeling, and all of us were sharing it – the scenery we had seen had been spectacular, the climb was draining, the weather was amazing (about 25C), and we had all managed to do it. I remember stopping at one point to just look around and take it all in – the blue skies, the pilgrims I had just met, a table full of empty glasses – this is what I had hoped it would be.
Albergues
Albergues are essentially hostels but they are only available to pilgrims travelling to Santiago (or at least, that’s how it’s supposed to work – more on this later). For roughly 10 euros, you’ll receive a bed in a room with roughly 10 other pilgrims, a hot (or often warm) shower, and with luck somewhere to do your laundry. In better albergues you’ll often have the option for a shared pilgrim meal (highly recommended if you do), and if not, can usually find something similar in town. To obtain access to an albergue, a person needs to present their pilgrim credencial and typically will have it stamped (to prove they were here).

The albergue at Roncesvalles
Looking back most albergues sort of blur together in my head. A few stand out, such as the one I stayed in for my first night in Roncesvalles, as well as another one in Hornillos that served a 12 person paella. But in general the albergues were all fairly similar, and often the best part of the experience was having the opportunity to socialize with other pilgrims, usually over a few beers or glasses of wine.
During my trip I varied where I stayed quite often. I stayed in a few donativo albergues during my trip (which are by donation only, and often run by a local church), quite a few private albergues, and the occasional hostel or hotel when I felt like I was falling behind on sleep. I had one of my best meals in a donativo albergue – a stew shared between about 20 people along with some singing. I also had one of my worst experiences in that I was staying with a few seedy characters that were clearly using the donativo albergues as a way to save costs – one individual was actually kicked out late at night because he was rude at dinner and clearly intoxicated. If you stay in a donativo, please do your part and leave a reasonable amount to cover costs, more if you can afford it. Donation only doesn’t mean free, something many people apparently don’t know or don’t care to know.
There’s mostly an unspoken etiquette in the albergues that most people inherently know and respect, but occasionally you meet the odd person who doesn’t (I’m looking directly at you Italian guys). For example, you don’t turn the lights on in the room when other people are sleeping, nor do you make a pile of noise or try to have a conversation – go out into the main room for that. You don’t make your bed at 11pm after you’ve been at the bar all day, you do it early in the afternoon when you arrive. If you need to charge your phone, you find an outlet that isn’t being used, you don’t unplug someone else’s phone and put yours in (this happened to me once).
I was in one albergue, fast asleep, when a group of Italian guys came in at 11pm, turned on all the lights, then proceeded to make their beds while having a conversation. They woke four of us up during this drunken debacle, but seemed completely oblivious to it all (or rather, they knew they were being rude but didn’t care). The polite Canadian in me just closed my eyes and remembered patience was part of my personal Camino, but I certainly wasn’t happy about these guys (one of which thought he was God’s gift to women and kept asking people all day to tell him how good he looked). At 6am the next morning, one of the Italian guys got up and immediately turned on all the lights, waking everyone up again. I was pretty much stirring already, but several of the ladies in the room were fuming angry because they were exhausted, and I didn’t blame them.
I figured I would never see these guys again, so I resigned myself just to move on. But when I saw the one guy having breakfast and the ladies from my room with bags under their eyes, I decided I need to speak up. I told him what he did was rude and that he woke everyone up. He didn’t care. He basically just waved his hands at me and walked away, which is basically the response I figured I would have. Regardless, I’m glad I said something because he was being a rude asshole, and everyone in the room agreed.
Day 2 – Roncesvalles to Zubiri, 22.1km
It’s pretty hard to sleep in when you are staying in a room with approximately 100 people, which was the case in the epic Roncesvalles albergue. As such, most of us were up around 6am and starting to get ready. It’s pretty rare that someone showers in the morning, mostly because the bathrooms are pretty busy then, but also because it’s a bad idea to walk long distances with moist feet. I got into the routine of basically sleeping in the clothes I was going to wear in the morning, so my morning routine mostly consisted of stuffing my sleeping bag, packing my backpack, brushing my teeth, filling my water bottle, and then setting off.

Setting out from Roncesvalles, only 790km to go!
If there was a nice looking pub (a generic name for even a café along the Camino) that was open, I would often grab a coffee with a croissant before setting off. But often I would walk to the next town (usually 60-90 minutes away) and merge my first break of the day with breakfast.
I decided to walk with Anouk and a few other people this day, and we set off around 7am. It was a bit cold and rainy in the morning, so my rain jacket came in handy, for at least the first hour or so. The scenery was really great this day, and we passed by many little quaint villages. At one point we stopped for a break on the side of the trail and just took it all in.

A day of descents
Unfortunately for me about half-way through the day my two pinky toes started to hurt. I kept pushing on, hoping I could just put it out of my mind, but after a while I had to start limping to avoid the pain and figured I should stop to deal with it. Once I took my shoes off, I discovered that I had two really ugly blisters, one on each pinky toe. These two blisters would continue to plague me for the duration of my Camino, and it was here where I first started the process of battling them with a sterilized needle. Ultimately I learned that my hiking shoes were a little too small for my feet (especially after they started to swell), and also that I seem to step on my two pinky toes slightly when I walk (look out Quasimodo).

A cold lunch break
I limped on slowly, trying to make my way to a little town called Zubiri. Due to the blisters and the rather steep descents, my knees started to hurt. This was something I had been really worried about previously since I had hurt my knee years ago hiking the West Coast Trail in British Columbia, Canada. I brought along a knee brace, and had been wearing it, but it seemed that the injury finally caught up with me.

Limping into Zubiri
The rest of the day was a real gruel, and by the time I reached Zubiri I could hardly walk. I checked myself into the first albergue I found on my right, and secured a bunk bed in a room with seven other people. I had a quick shower, changed into a pair of shorts, and managed to get a load of laundry underway with the owner of the albergue. I limped across the street to a cool little pub and ordered myself the holy trifecta of beer, bocadillo, and coffee.
When I got back to the albergue after lunch, I was in quite a bit of pain still. While doing introductions amongst some of my bunk mates, I learned of someone else in similar pain, a young lady in the adjoining room named Elle. Elle’s knee had really bothered her today as well, but she managed to secure a big score of ibuprofen from the local pharmacy. After her and I met, she was nice enough to give me a few to tide me over until I could grab some myself from the pharmacy.

Zubiri bridge
I did some self-medicating at the local pub during the evening, and met up with a few new friends I had met the night before in Roncesvalles. Looking back, despite being in a lot of pain, I had a really great time that night and had beers with a great group of Koreans, an Argentine, and a few Germans.
Eventually I hit the albergue and tried to get some sleep, knowing that the next day would be make or break in terms of pain. I took a few ibuprofen before bed hoping it would relieve the inflammation in my knee overnight and then closed my eyes.

Ibuprofen and compeed
Day 3 – Zubiri to Pamplona, 21km (of hell)
I was awoken shortly before 6am by a German couple who were packing up and getting ready to head out. My original plan was to sleep until about 7am, but since I was up I decided to just pack up and get going. I brought along a little LED headlamp in my backpack, and I figured it would be a good opportunity to test it out.
I took my backpack out into the common area and finished packing so I wouldn’t disturb the other sleepers, and quickly downed a rather bruised apple to tide me over until breakfast. Elle was up early too, and we chatted briefly before I set out into the darkness. I was sore in general, but I didn’t have any stabbing pain in my knee, which I hoped was a good sign. I was really hoping at this point that my knee wouldn’t bother me today, because the pain was enough the day before that I really thought I may have to toss in the towel and quit.

Heading towards Larrasoaña
Sure enough, after about 10 minutes of walking down the dimly lit trail my left knee started to flare up again. I remember thinking “oh fuck” as soon as I felt it, because I needed to walk about 20 kilometres still before getting to Pamplona and being able to rest. There were a lot of downhill portions leaving Zubiri, and the pain got so intense at one point that I literally needed to walk backwards down some of the hills to relieve the pressure on my knee.

Despite being in pain, today was scenic and enjoyable
As the day went on, my other knee started burning as well, a result of me naturally trying to take pressure off the other knee. I figured I was pretty much screwed at this point, and honestly wondered if I would have to call it quits after today. The upside at least was that I knew I was going to take the next day off since I had to wait for my friend Scott to arrive in Pamplona. But I’ll admit, I was really worried at this point that I wasn’t going to complete the journey.

Brief stop before Pamplona
Eventually the trail levelled out, which gave my knees a welcome break. Despite being in a lot of pain, the second half of the day was really pretty, and the weather was warm enough that I ended up in only my t-shirt in the early afternoon.

Walking into Pamplona
At some point early in the day, cookie-powered Elle blasted by me on the trail, apparently doing much better than I was. We would pass each other back and forth a few times over the trail, eventually meeting up again right before Pamplona and walking into the city together. Her and I ended up hanging out in the afternoon in Pamplona, treating ourselves to a few drinks at various pubs, and working on eating the roughly five pounds of food that Elle had in her backpack.

Wine ‘o clock with Elle
While I stayed in a nice albergue that night, I planned to move to a hotel the next day and try to let me knees rest a bit. In the morning I packed up, gave Elle a goodbye hug (since she was carrying on, and I wasn’t), and then set out to do a bit of exploring.
Day 4 – Rest Day
Since Scott was purposefully flying in from South Africa for my birthday, I decided I would splurge and stay in a hotel this night. When I left the albergue in the morning, I ran into an American guy I had met the day before and him and I just chilled out and drank probably four coffees each in a café. While I did some exploring of the city at night, I mostly just relaxed at the hotel and did my best to give my knees a break. Scott arrived late at night in Pamplona, and we made plans via WhatsApp to meet in the morning near my hotel.
I did my best to get a nice sleep in the hotel and rest my knees, and really hoped I wouldn’t fall apart on the trail as soon as Scott and I set out again in the morning.

Pamplona at Night
Day 5 – Pamplona to Puente de Reina, 24.5km
Scott met me in the hotel café around 8am, and we set off together for Puente de Reina. The first part of the journey involved passing through a little city called Cizor Minor, and then climbing roughly 300 metres to Alto de Perdon, which contains a famous sculpture on the Camino.

Scott’s first day of walking
Compared to the climb through the Pyrenees, I didn’t really have any issues today with the climb. My knees were definitely bothering me a bit, especially with the descent down from Alto de Perdon, but the pain was at least manageable (it probably helped in part to the Ibuprofen that I was taking).

Alto de Perdon
I had started developing a few new blisters today, one on the bottom of each foot. This is a really crappy location to get a blister since you are forced to put a lot pressure on it with each step. I treated them after my shower in the albergue and put some Compeed on them (more on the evilness that is Compeed later) for the rest of the evening.

A day of great scenery
Scott and I went across the street to the supermarket and picked up twelve warm beers (it was my birthday after all), and all the fixings to make some nice bocadillos in the albergue kitchen. We spent the afternoon on the patio drinking beers and chatting with fellow pilgrims. Anouk showed up at some point too (which was a nice reunion since we lost each other on day 2), and joined us for a beer and some dinner in the evening.

Scott making bocadillos
At some point (i.e. when the beer ran out) Scott and I decided to migrate to a local pub to continue the celebrations. We found a quaint little spot close to the albergue and proceeded to drink copious amounts of beer and sample some Spanish tapas (chorizo and papas fritas, Scott’s favourite). All in all it was a really fun birthday, and it was great to catch up with Scott and reminisce about our first shared day on the Camino.

Birthday beers
Day 6 – Puente de Reina to Estella, 22.3km
I woke up in the morning with a pretty significant hangover, but that was pretty much a given after we downed the first twelve beers. Due to space limitations in the albergue, Scott had ended up in another room. When we woke up, we coordinated a departure via WhatsApp and eventually set out.

Leaving Puente de Reina
My knees were much better at this stage, but my feet were getting progressively worse. I had a pretty consistent routine at this point that involved wearing my hiking shoes for a few hours, eventually switching to my sandals later in the day. While the sandals spared my toes any more injury, they seemed to cause more damage to the soles of my feet. So I ended up making footwear decisions based on what part of my feet were hurting the most as I walked – not a very fun period of time.

Scott looking back down the trail
I remember one time that Scott and I stopped to have breakfast – I took my shoes and socks off while Scott went inside to buy the food. I looked up at this point and noticed some Japanese tourists pointing at my feet, after which they got up and started taking photos of them. I thought it was rather amusing, but it also underscored just how screwed up they must be looking if other people thought they were worthy of photos.

Walking
A few days prior I had come to the realization that my shoes (which were the right size when my feet weren’t swollen) were unfortunately too small for my feet. This was causing my two pinky toes to curl under the adjacent toes, forcing me to put pressure on them with each step. In addition, my decision to walk with sandals through the snow on day 1 ended up being a stupid one – the bottoms of my feet had gotten really wet, and some of the skin had sort of sheared loose. My plan at this point was to reach Logroño and buy some new shoes and some better socks. It’s obviously really risky buying new shoes in the middle of an 800km trek, but I really had no choice at this point.
Scott and I made it to Estella that night, which was a cute little town. We had one of the better meals on the Camino then – a couple of thin crust wood-fired pizzas in an Italian pizzeria close to the albergue, complete with wine.

Pizza and wine with Scott
We met a German guy named Sven in the albergue who we would continue to run into over the course of the walk. Scott tried to be a nice guy and told Sven that he was welcome to use Scott’s USB charger (which had two ports). Sven calmly replied that his German charger had five full ports, and we were welcome to use his (the sound of a gauntlet hitting the floor could be heard throughout the albergue) – we liked him immediately at this stage.
Day 7 – Estella to Los Arcos, 21.6km
The next day we set out for for a town called Los Arcos. My feet had been getting progressively worse, and I decided I really needed another rest day to take care of them. I remember looking down at my feet during the day only to notice some puss leaking out the side of my pinky toe – not a good sign.

Sunrise just outside of Estella
At some point during the day we stopped at the famous Bodegas Irache fountain, a fountain that literally pours wine. Unfortunately for us, the fountain was completely empty when we arrived. We heard from others on the trail that it wasn’t really worth drinking, but it would have been nice to at least sample it.

The fountain of wine
We found an albergue run by a German women (one advantage being that she kept the fridge stocked with German beer), and ended up scoring a full room to ourselves.

Vineyards outside of Los Arcos
Scott and I sat outside on the patio and drank German beer throughout the afternoon, occasionally chatting with fellow pilgrims. We walked down to the plaza in the evening and shared one of the rather generic paellas that were offered in various establishments on the Camino.

Some more wine in the plaza in Los Arcos
Day 8 – Rest day in Los Arcos
The next day Scott and I decided just to stay in Los Acros and rest. While I was hurting more than Scott, he had managed to get a sore knee and some blisters as well, which in truth made me exceptionally happy since I was no longer the only person in pain on this trip. We couldn’t check into the albergue until 1pm I believe, so Scott and I just chilled out in the main square and sat in the sunshine.

Resting my feet near the Camino marker in the Los Arcos plaza
At one point someone on their bicycle passed me and asked how the Camino was going. I told him about my feet and how I was struggling a bit. He then proceeded to complain about how hard it was on a bicycle. I was like, are you fucking kidding me? Look at my feet! You will be done in what, a week? I certainly had more empathy at the end of my pilgrimage for everyone on the trail, but I had absolutely zero empathy for that guy in his shiny spandex with pristine feet at that point.
In the albergue that night we met two Australians from Melbourne that we eventually would hit it off with – Julie and Dimitri. I remember one cute moment where Julie needed help getting off the top bunk and Dimitri picked her up and helped her down. I thought about asking Dimitri to help me and Scott down as well, but it seemed premature at this point.

Julie and Dimitri
I was a bit of a party pooper that night, primarily because I didn’t want to be walking on my feet. I mostly stayed in bed and read on my Kindle while Scott went out and did a bit of work on his laptop. I was hoping to get a good rest and be in better shape in the morning to start walking again.
Despite being in pain, it’s actually very hard to force yourself to take a rest day on the Camino. It’s a very weird thing to wake up in the morning and watch everyone else start walking without you. In addition, you’re pretty much guaranteed to lose contact with anyone you had been walking with up until this point – unless they take a day off at some point, they will probably continue to be a full day ahead of you until the end.
But sometimes you have to just listen to your body.
Day 9 – Los Arcos to Viana, 18.7km
Scott and I said goodbye to Julie and Dimitri and headed out in the morning. It was still relatively early, so we managed to catch the tail end of the sunrise after leaving Los Arcos.

Sunrise after leaving Los Arcos
The trail alternated between paved sections and dirt that stretched along the rolling hillsides in a few places.

Rolling hills
Eventually we saw Viana in the distance, and decided we would stop there for the night. While some people plan their evening destinations far in advance, mostly I just listened to my body and stopped when I was getting sore or tired. I would often have a goal in mind based on what I read in the guidebooks, but I would say I only ended up there 60% of the time, and just stopped where it felt right the other 40% of the time.

The trail leading into Viana
When we arrived in Viana, we grabbed an albergue and set out to find something to eat. And wouldn’t you know it, we ran into Julie and Dimitri again so we teamed up for a Camino meal together.

Plaza in Viana
We had quite a bit to drink that night with our new friends, as it was nice to finally have some real Camino friends to socialize with. We all remember quite vividly the really weird cheesecake that we ate here – we were pretty sure it was actually made out of cottage cheese (yuck!)

Dinner with friends
Day 10 – Viana to Logroño, 18.7km
The main destination we had in mind for this day’s walk was Logroño, since it was the largest city on the route since Pamplona. My feet had been progressively getting worse, and the plan was for me to find some new shoes here.

Leaving Viana
The walk today went through some wooded areas, vineyards, and along a few streams. The weather was great, and it was mostly a nice relaxing day of walking.

Vineyards on the way to Logroño
When we made it to the city, Scott holed himself up in a little café so he could check in on things back in South Africa. I left my bags with him, and grabbed a taxi to go find some new shoes. I eventually found a pretty large sports store, and managed to buy myself some new trail hikers. At this point though my feet had swollen to be a full size larger than they were back in Canada (I normally wear size 10 shoes back home and bought size 10.5 for the Camino – in Logroño I was forced to buy size 11.5 shoes because my feet were that large).

Fountain in Logroño
This is one of two nights on the Camino where I chose to stay in a donativo, in this case a church. We had a really amazing dinner here, but also had a strange experience with a French pilgrim who had been walking the Camino for years. He wasn’t entirely broke, but he seemed to basically move from city to city and mostly just drink beer along the way. He was a nice enough guy to talk to, but there was something just a bit off with him. During dinner he was clearly intoxicated, and when it was over enough of the people in the Camino were concerned enough that the owners asked him to leave.
My feet were holding their own at this point, and I was looking forward to trying out my new shoes in the morning. Unfortunately for me though I walked into the bathroom during the evening and the floor was wet from someone who had just recently had a shower. I ended up having a really bad spill, which ended up ripping one of my blisters completely off and tearing the skin around it. So I spent some time in the evening doing my best to repair it all before setting off again the next day.
Day 11 – Logroño to Najera, 29.5km
Since I had my new shoes, Scott and I set out with high expectations for the day. We walked at a pretty good pace, and ended up doing about 17.5kms in our first stretch. We thought after that much hard work we should stop and have a few beers before marching onwards.

Beers in the Rioja Region
As we were officially in Spain’s Rioja wine region, we ended up walking along many vineyards during the day.

Vineyards in the Rioja Region
If there was one aspect of the Camino de Santiago that we didn’t prepare properly for, it was Easter weekend. While we had heard rumours that the trail would be busier around Easter time, we weren’t prepared for just how many people there were and how many of them would be fighting for the same beds each evening.
When Scott and I arrived in Najera, we quickly realized our mistake. We walked between three or four albergues, all of which turned us away due to not having any more space. We eventually stumbled upon some other pilgrims we knew, and none of them had any beds either. At this point I decided to bite the bullet and call a few of the hotels in the area to get a nice room for the night. But unfortunately none of them had space either. I even called a few *really* expensive hotels, and they were booked as well.
I’ve never been in a position in my life where the prospect of sleeping outside against my will was a real threat. While it was warm enough during the day, it was still hovering around 0C at night in April. Most of our group basically realized we were going to end up sleeping outside in a nearby park, and none of us were looking forward to it. We decided at this point there was only one thing to do, so we hit the bar and started drinking.

Setting up for the night in the gym
Thankfully at one point during the evening we heard that a gymnasium had decided to let pilgrims stay on the floor. Scott and I made our way there and eventually secured a piece of floor space for the night. While it wasn’t comfortable at all, it was certainly way better than being forced to sleep outside in 0C weather.
Day 12 – Najera to Santo Domingo de Calzada, 21.5km
I woke up a bit cold and grumpy, mainly from having to sleep on the floor. I slept with earplugs in as well, which meant we were one of the last groups to leave in the morning. We quickly packed up our gear and set out.
I unfortunately didn’t take any photos during the walk this day, probably because I was too grumpy. But when we reached Santo Domingo de Calzada and set up for the evening, my demeanour improved.

Having some wine in the albergue
Scott and I met a cool Brazilian guy named Luciano here. He didn’t really speak English, so I had to do my best speaking with him in Spanish and Portuguese. I’m sure our conversations were pretty amusing looking back on them, but somehow we managed to both get our points across. The three of us ended up at a pub for the afternoon, and enjoyed some beers and conversation together.

Watching the sun go down from our dinner table
That evening we again met up with Julie and Dimitri, and had one of the more memorable evenings on the Camino. I remember Dimitri ordered a hamburger, and we were all amused when it showed up with no bun. Looking back, I think Scott and I both remember what a great time we had in Santo Domingo. It was a city we could have easily spent another full day in.
Day 13 – Santo Domingo de Calzada to Belorado, 23.4km
I’ve never really been much of a morning person. Even when I didn’t own my own company, I would really hate getting up at 7:30 in the morning. I remember one summer where I had to be at work at 7am, and that was absolutely horrid. That said, one of the real treats of the Camino de Santiago was how many sunrises I saw during my walk.

Sunrise leaving Santo Domingo
Since we were walking due west towards Santiago, the sun was often rising behind us in the morning. You would often start walking through the dim light and occasional fog. After 30 minutes or so of walking you would see this amazing glow slowly fill the landscape front of you. I’d then spin around, and usually be treated to a really amazing sunrise.

The road to Belorado
One of my best memories of this day was walking a bit with Luciano (our new Brazillian friend) in the morning. We learned that he was a firefighter back in Sáo Paulo, and that he was walking the Camino for spiritual reasons. While many people along the trail were happy with the experience, Luciano seemed like someone who was consistently amazed by everything around him, and his enthusiasm for the journey was infectious. While him and I could communicate in Spanish (thanks to the period of time I lived in Buenos Aires for five months) and a bit of Portuguese (thanks to my previous Brazilian girlfriend), we often communicated just fine with simple expressions, like a nod or a smile.

A photo of Scott and I walking, taken by Luciano
As the walk would go on, I would end up looking at Luciano like a trusted companion, even though we couldn’t communicate as effectively as I would have liked. It’s really hard to describe the bond you end up forming with some people on a journey like this, but I felt a type of kinship to Luciano that I didn’t feel with many of the others I met on this journey. But in him I think I recognized a type of kindred spirit.

Scott and me outside of Viloria de Rioja
When I set out from St. Jean Pied de Port, my intention was to grow a full beard over the course of the journey. As you can see from my photo, I was making pretty good progress at this point. I don’t believe I had ever had any facial hair as long as this before, and I remember it starting to feel pretty itchy.

576km to Santiago
Day 13 – Belorado to Burgos, 51km
Scott and I originally planned to do about 30km this day, but once again we were completely screwed over by Easter.
Walking 30km takes normally about 6 or 7 hours on the Camino, and we pushed ourselves hard to go that far. Up until this day, neither of us had gone past 30km before, mostly due to my feet or Scott’s knee.

Medicating
Despite our enthusiasm, we were both still hurting from our various ailments. That meant we were both taking quite a bit of advil (I feel so old saying that!), and the occasional beer (which strangely seemed to help).

531km to Santiago
Once aspect you quickly learn on the Camino is basically not to trust the distance on any sign. There are lots of examples along the way of your guidebook telling you it’s only so many kilometres until the next village, but often encounter a sign telling you something completely different. You would routinely see markers to Santiago that basically completely contradicted a sign that you saw not that long ago. This sign for example said we were 531km away from Santiago, but one that we passed not that long before said 576km. Basically you just take comfort in the fact that the number mostly just keeps getting smaller as you walk.
Somewhere around the 30km mark, Scott and I realized that accommodation was going to be difficult again. We were both getting tired, and so far hadn’t been able to find anywhere to sleep. So we decided to dump out the water from our water bottles, replace it with wine and then march on.

Scott filling up his water bottle with wine
Every town we passed we tried to get accommodation, and every single time they were full. Eventually we hit the last albergue we could find near Orbaneja-Ríopico, roughly 35km from where we started, and couldn’t find anything either.

Near Orbaneja-Ríopico
It was going to be another cold night, and neither Scott or myself relished the thought of sleeping outside. Burgos was the next city, and it was still about 10km away. With the sun starting to go down, we decided to call a cab and taxi to Burgos for the night. We really had no choice since there was literally nowhere to stay, and other pilgrims who were also without accommodation were forced to do the same.

A large plaza in Burgos
When we got to Burgos, we messaged Julie and Dimitri, and it turns out that they had been forced to taxi to Burgos as well. So we made plans to meet up for dinner.

Julie and Dimitri after a very long, tiring day of walking
The last big city we had been in was Logroño, so it was definitely nice to see the hustle and the bustle of the city again for the evening. Burgos was such a beautiful city too, and was one of the highlights of my trip.

Tree-lined streets in Burgos
Day 14 – Rest day in Burgos
Scott only was able to take approximately one week off from his own company for the walk, which had always been the plan. Back in South Africa he runs a company with his wife, and thankfully Samantha looked after everything while he was gone.

My credencial, now with two full pages
Since Scott had to head back to Madrid soon to catch a flight, we decided to have one last day together in Burgos and just enjoy the city. Julie and Dimitri decided to do the same, so it was a really great day amongst Camino friends.

Walking around Burgos
Scott was leaving in the morning, and Julie and Dimitri had decided they had had enough walking for a while and were going to rent some bikes to get the next portion, the Meseta, out of the way. That meant there was a good chance that none of us would see each other again, which was a bit sad. Thankfully we had an opportunity to have one last dinner together, after which we snapped this final selfie before I would carry on with the ring to Mordor alone.

The breaking of the fellowship
If you were to attempt to break the Camino de Santiago up into stages, three naturally sort of jump out at you. The first, St. Jean Pied de Port to Burgos, was the portion we all had just completed. The second is from Burgos to Leon, and it crosses a large desert-like area called the Meseta. The final portion, from Leon to Santiago de Compostela, passes through Galicia. All three stages have dramatically different challenges, geography and often even weather. Many people ch...