Guest feature alert! Adam has just been on the Camino de Santiago in Spain for three weeks and is here to share his thoughts – very useful guide below:
In April 2023, I walked the Camino de Santiago (‘the Way of St James’). If you are reading this, you likely already know what the Camino is. In a word, it’s a walk: a set of pilgrimage routes (mostly) running through Spain which (mostly) end in Santiago de Compostela, where it is said the remains of Saint James lay.
The pilgrimage itself is ancient (being one of ‘the three great pilgrimages of Christendom’), but saw a resurgence of popularity in the late twentieth century and is now walked by hundreds of thousands each year. Given this popularity, I find it highly likely that I will at some point be quizzed by a prospective pilgrim for tips on the trip. If that day comes, what follows are the things I wish I had known before walking.
By way of preface, these tips are totally personal. They are written by a twenty-something male who is pretty active in everyday life. I’m sure an enjoyable Camino could be had by ignoring all of the following. That said, when researching the Camino online, you will find forums comprised of lovely folk who might politely be described as ‘senior’. Whilst good for flavour, I found most of their advice inapplicable.
So without further ado, please find below my ten pennies on the Camino:
1) Packing
It should go without saying: pack light. Whatever you bring, you’ll be carrying it on your back for hundreds of miles, so make every item count.
Personally, I think the way to get packing wrong is to overestimate the physicality of the Camino. Whilst the Camino is physically demanding, I found this only due to the attrition of a long day’s walk rather than any tricky terrain or high-intensity spells.
Prime example: my mum and girlfriend banged on at me to get some ‘proper’ walking boots, seemingly a no-brainer for a long trek. I actively ignored and took my ten-year-old Forrest Gump Nike Cortezes, my favourite running shoes which, to be fair, are beaten to shreds. On this occasion I was (thankfully) proved right. I managed to escape the Camino with only one blister which I picked up on my last day. As far as I’m aware that’s pretty unheard of. I put this down to the fact my feet ‘knew’ the shoes – you don’t wear boots regularly and they’re designed for tough trails. They are avoidable on the Camino and light, familiar trainers are far preferable in my opinion. The last thing you need is heavy shoes weighing your feet down as you drag them to Santiago.
The same goes for ‘gear’. I saw a lot of big bags and hiking equipment / clothing (see photo). I felt this was unnecessary given most of the walking was on roads and flat paths, and you’re never more than an hour from a shop or bar. I went for simple gym gear, hand-washed each evening then radiator-dried, and one change of clothes for evenings. This was more than enough, with an unused waterproof top just in case.
One thing I got wrong: earplugs and an eye-mask. These are an absolute MUST. Throughout the trip you will stay in albergues which are essentially Camino hostels. Whilst you can book private rooms, you shouldn’t and likely can’t rely on always getting a room to yourself. This is no bad thing, my best stays were in shared rooms. However, I’ve heard nighttime noises that I can’t un-hear. I was kindly gifted a pair of earplugs by another pilgrim early on – without these I might’ve packed it all in. My hoodie served nicely as an eye mask if I wanted to sleep while others were awake, but frankly I would’ve exchanged a kidney for a decent mask-plugs combo. I heard a rumour that Sartre conceived his famous dictum that l’enfer c’est les autres during a sleepless night in a municipal albergue.
2) Sack the Guides (irony noted)
As with anything, there are innumerable guidebooks you can buy with information and hot tips on the Camino and the places en route. There is a particularly famous one by John Brierley which people call the ‘Brierley guide’.
I wouldn’t bother.
Doing the Camino is a bit of a step into the unknown, so I definitely understand the temptation; full disclosure, I am also knocking the guides without having tried them.
For one: the guides are unnecessary. I had an app called Wise Pilgrim (though there are others), which had absolutely everything I needed on it. There was a GPS map of the route showing me where I was and the distance between each town or village, with a list of albergues at each spot and whether they were open. It also gave the telephone numbers for the albergues and would auto-generate a WhatsApp in Spanish allowing you to book in advance if you wanted. A key advantage was that past pilgrims had left comments on the app about each albergue, so it was useful for finding unique and fun places to stay across a range of stops if I wasn’t sure where I wanted to lay over.
The beauty of doing things this way was the sense of freedom, which was one of my favourite aspects of the Camino. You would walk and genuinely have no idea where you were sleeping until you decided you fancied stopping. I would often book a nice albergue the night before or while walking during the day, but I would also often arrive and carry on if I felt like more walking or that the town wasn’t all that great.
This is exactly what you lose if you listen to the guides. The Brierley guide, in particular, splits the Camino into ‘stages’, and many people follow these to the letter. Not only is this entirely opposed to the spirit of adventure that I think the Camino should inspire, but it also makes these ‘stages’ exceptionally busy. It was uncanny how the vast majority of people’s Camino were subliminally structured around these stages. When passing them, I felt that, because of the footfall, these towns had been built-up and felt less authentic. To boot, the stages are rather un-ambitiously distributed if you’re doing a full day’s walk. I think you are better off walking as far as you fancy, then supplementing your whims with some light research on the apps to look out for any hidden gems you might otherwise miss. I’d consult the guidebooks if only to avoid their recommendations.
3) Go Off-Season (and Solo)
This one may not be totally within control, but when walking I was near-constantly thankful of the time of year I had chosen to go.
There is no official ‘Camino season’, but many of the albergues close from around September to April. The routes will be very quiet through winter (though not unused), with numbers steadily increasing through Spring to peak June through August. From reading online, I hear the Camino is very busy through the Summer months to the point where you must arrive at your evening’s destination by circa 2pm to stand a chance of a bed without booking ahead. All the better to avoid the glaring Spanish afternoon sun beating down on your neck.
I started in mid-March, where the route was very quiet. I would pass only a handful of pilgrims each day, and space at albergues was rarely an issue (other than some tiny 10-bedders). The mornings were fresh and the afternoons were warm – enough for a light t-shirt tan and a bit of back-sweat, but not enough to dehydrate you. I noted that there were long stretches with no shade whatsoever, where water sources were scant – these didn’t cause me any problems but I could imagine them being hellish in thirty-degree July heat.
I also LOVED doing the Camino alone. I’m sure it would have been fantastic with company too, but I was very grateful I had the opportunity to experience it just for me. I’m not going to preach about the value of independence and reflection, though there’s a lot to be said if you’re into that. The chief value was being totally unfettered when it came to walking and stopping. My pace, distance, breaks, starts, stops and eats were entirely dictated by yours truly. As soon as exercise is involved, it’s very difficult to share the ‘perfect’ experience because our bodies are all different. There’s nothing worse for your mood than either being dragged along too fast, or having to wait for a slowcoach (I’m thinking of skiing holidays as a yardstick). If I went again, I think I would like to share it with someone; however, as a first stab I would thoroughly recommend going it alone.
4) Where to Skip
The Camino is comprised of many different routes from many different start points. As such, there is strictly no such thing as doing the ‘full’ Camino. The most popular route is the Camino Frances, which runs from the French side of the Pyrenees westward towards Santiago. To do the ‘full’ Camino Frances would take anywhere from around 28 days to six weeks (or longer). For most people, this length of trip is neither feasible nor desirable. This inevitably means picking where not to walk.
I myself had around two weeks for walking. I started in Logroño, the city on the Camino Frances most easily accessible from Barcelona, where I flew into and spent the night. This did not leave me enough time to get to Santiago unless I grew bionic legs, so I took a train mid-route between Burgos and Léon. This section (the ‘Meseta’) is often skipped as it is known for being a particularly uninteresting length of long plains with few stops or landmarks. So my route took me around 430kms through Rioja, the Léon & Castile region, followed by Galicia.
I say this mainly to highlight that I did not see every stretch of the Camino Frances (or any of the other routes).
From what I did see, the advice I would give will be very difficult to follow: if you have to skip any section, skip the end. I’m not sure I could even follow this myself without hindsight: the goal of the Camino is to make it to Santiago. It would seem incomplete and just plain wrong to stop before the finish. However, I would commend anyone mature enough to do it.
The final hundred kilometres or so, from Sarria, are the convergence of several Camino routes. Sarria is the last practical starting point of the Camino, and conveniently located at the minimum distance of walking required to be eligible for a Camino certificate that many get in the pilgrim’s office in Santiago once they finish. From Sarria, the atmosphere changes. The paths become very crowded with people starting their Camino, including families and even school trips. The settlements are frequent and built-up. There are stalls and vending machines selling snacks and Camino memorabilia. The roads are easy and the views are meagre. It feels like the Camino fuels the local economy in a way that is now commercialised, and is a long way from the soul-cleansing trek through rolling hills that I was after.
Thankfully I had already experienced exactly that in my walking through Rioja and Léon. The route took me through beautiful vineyards and picturesque farming towns with only a handful of permanent inhabitants. It felt authentically Spanish and the regions were a pleasure to discover and pass through. From Sarria, I just wanted to get the thing done.
I suppose the ‘getting it done’ is part of the experience. That said, if I go again, I will either do the beginning sections of the Camino Frances which I skipped, or pick another route but finish in Sarria.
This concludes my thoughts. Anything else should be discovered on the road. Buen Camino !
Postscriptum – some shout outs
Whilst I would champion organically discovering hidden gems on the Camino, fatvicks will kill me if I don’t give a few shoutouts. The following are places I would actively change my route for, to visit again:
Grañon – Hospital de San Juan Bautista
Grañon is a beautiful little pueblo in Rioja. I arrived and instantly thought ‘yes’. I poked my head into the church as I’d heard they let people sleep in it and asked whether they had a place to stay: “always brother. 365 days, 24 hours.”
The church here functions as a ‘hospital’, which were the medieval stopping points for healing pilgrims physically and spiritually. You simply pull up a mattress on the floor and your stay is free, but they ask for donations for running costs. The place is run entirely by volunteers, who are all ex-pilgrims. As I was being signed in, the ‘hospitalero’ asked off-handedly whether I could cook. I ill-advisedly said yes, to which he exclaimed “praise Jesus! We have our master chef!”. I was to be in charge of dinner for the 12 pilgrims and volunteers – eek.
It was a fantastic evening – I bashed out my mediocre creation (Paste e fagioli in the photo above); some went out to buy wine; some cleaned; some tended to the fire. Everyone chipped in. We were invited to attend the Catholic mass in the church, in which we were blessed for our travels by the priest. After dinner there was ‘reflection time’ where we were encouraged to share our feelings in the church’s mezzanine overlooking the alter, while passing around a candle. And there was lots of hugging. It felt like a support group, but it was strangely enjoyable.
We were put to bed on the floor, and in the morning were treated to a breakfast spread and coffee laid out by the hospitaleros. It was a very special and unique place, and it encapsulated the spirit of the Camino to a tee. I felt very grateful to take part in the evening, and would recommend it to anyone.
Santibáñez de Valdeiglesias – L’Abilleiru Albergue Rural
Situated in a little village which can’t have more than thirty inhabitants, there is a small BnB-style albergue run by a lovely lady called Eva. It is very low-capacity – the rooms were split by gender and there were only three to a room.
When I stayed, it was only me and a nice travelling nurse from Idaho. This basically meant hotel treatment for the price of a hostel. I spent the early evening enjoying golden hour with Eva’s cats and reading on her terrace, followed by a dinner date with my co-resident.
Eva cooked a delicious green salad with mozzarella, followed by lentil bake with chorizo, then ice cream and coffee. In the morning, she’d set me up a full breakfast (see photo) of panne con tomate, meats, cereal and pastries. I walked my longest day once I left, just saying.
Villavante – Albergue Santa Lucia
These guys get a shout out for giving me the biggest chuckle of my entire trip.
Villavante is situated on a variant route from Léon which I took on the day which I stayed at Eva’s. It’s not ‘on’ the Camino but the route is seen as preferable to the actual route, which is 3km less but follows a busy unattractive road for the entire day.
The problem with the variant route is that there is basically nothing on it by way of services. I was generally quite cavalier about long stretches without breaks, but this one was a mistake. I undertook a 12km stretch at exactly midday knowing there wouldn’t be much until the other end. Classically, there was absolutely nothing on the stretch which took me over just over two hours to bash out. I arrived in a tiny town which looked deserted at around 14:15.
Like an oasis in the desert emerged the ivory tower of Albergue Santa Lucia. I went in and miraculously they were open and happy to serve me some food. The father and daughter owners-cum-chefs spoke no English at all, so in my broken Spanish I tried to describe just how hungry I was.
The response was positive as the daughter explained enthusiastically their plate ‘combinado’. Part delirium, part my-terrible-Spanish, I wasn’t picking much up, but I did catch ‘chicken’, ‘bacon’, ‘cheese’, ‘option of salad or fried eggs’, ‘chips’. It sounded like a St. Tropez club sandwich worthy of the billionaires.
I’m arrogantly already writing up this hidden gem in my head, having stumbled across a Michelin-level bistro. They were taking some time in the kitchen as well, which only added to my anticipation and conviction that they were cooking up an absolute storm.
Finally the father came out with my food (see photo). Now, I do not like to think of myself as a food snob, but I literally couldn’t help but let out a laugh when it was put down in front of me.
The schnitzel…the eggs…the chips.
I’m not complaining. Whilst it wins the award for least appetising meal I’ve ever seen, it slapped. I was so hungry that a carb mainline was exactly what the doctor ordered. I left a happy man – thank you Santa Lucia.