“It’s mostly flat,” he said.

He lied.

In September, my fiancé led a group of ten, including me, along the last 100-ish kilometres of the Camino de Santiago in Spain.  I had a lot going on in my life (retiring and getting my house ready to sell among them) and had taken him at his word that no “training” was required for this six-day adventure. Then, on one of the group Zoom calls, I started hearing about personal trainers and practise walks of 20 km and started to get a little nervous, even though I like a good walk.

No problem, I thought. I was dog sitting for my son and daughter-in-law for 10 days. Koda was a big rambunctious, full-of-energy dog, and he’d take me for some really long walks in my new hiking shoes. Unfortunately, that was not to be. Koda was sick, unexpectedly entering his last few weeks of life, when he arrived. Long walks in 30C+ were not in the plan as I did my best to tempt him to eat and give him as much love as I could while the kids were off on their delayed honeymoon.

Getting ready

That still gave me a week. I could still get in at least one or two good long walks in the last week. Then my father had a health scare and, in the days before we left, I was driving my mum back and forth between her home in the Kawarthas and the hospital. No time left for walking. But still, Jeff insisted training wasn’t necessary for this walk between Sarria and Santiago and that I was overthinking it.

I packed my backpack full of pain killers, band aids and other footcare solutions, all the while praying that he wasn’t being too optimistic and that walking for many hours a day wouldn’t be the end of me.

The first 10 minutes seemed to be straight uphill and boded poorly for the next week. I was truly scared I wouldn’t be able to do it. Now, to be truthful, it turned out that it wasn’t so bad. Yes, there were ups and downs (in elevation as well as spirit) along the way, but the journey, as a whole, was a great experience.

I can do this – I think!

It turns out, I can walk 20-25 km a day without too much difficulty. Sure, my feet, knees and hips were sore, but not so sore that a cold beer and a good rest couldn’t solve most problems. I’d been advised to change socks throughout the day and while I ignored that on the first day – I mean, how much of a difference can socks make – I truly appreciated the difference when I gave it a whirl on day two. Fresh socks = heaven!

The group was very wary of one particular day. Rather than our usual distance we had gotten used to, this one was more than 30km, and that was before we added in the extra 5 km from our absolutely outstanding hotel into the town where the count started from. Options were offered. Take a taxi to the next stop. Take a taxi half-way and walk from there. Some people took those options, having learned what their bodies could handle. Me? I’m a bit stubborn, and despite being pretty sure I’d have to bail partway through, I wanted to at least give myself the option of doing it if by some miracle, I could.

Oh, the people you’ll meet

The Camino is interesting. Despite being a group of 10, we never walked as one. Twos and threes would splinter off, some walking faster, some walking slower – everyone walks their own Camino. I’m a fast walker (at least on flat land), so I generally didn’t walk with Jeff. On different days, I walked with different members of our group. Sometimes we walked alone. Sometimes we rested our weary feet at a church along the way. And sometimes, we struck up conversations with other pilgrims on the journey, who shared stories of their Caminos, and stories of their lives. We met one woman walking with her autistic adult son. A man with his leg in a brace limped his way along the trail. A whole family pushed a child in a wheelchair up and down the slopes and steps. My walk suddenly seemed so much easier.

One older couple I walked with on that day had started at the beginning of the Camino Frances, or The French Way, which starts in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port in the foothills of the Pyranees. They really had gone straight uphill! By the time they reached Santiago, they’d have walked about 800km.

I was truly in awe.

Where it got tough

The couple stopped for lunch – there’s no shortage of establishments along the whole section we walked – and I kept walking, honestly still not sure I’d make it. That afternoon, as the sun reached its peak in the abnormally-warm temperatures, there was at least an hour where I muttered under my breath – just to keep rhythm, you know – “I hate Jeff, I hate Jeff, I hate Jeff.” There may have been a few tears shed. But I kept at it, and somehow, in the last hour or so, as I was starting to become aware of the blisters forming, we caught each other. I don’t remember if it was me who caught him, or if he’d gone ahead and had waited for me, but if there was one day I needed a smiling face and a bit of a cheerleader, that was the day.

Somehow, I made it to the end of that gruelling day and now I can say that I can do it (and even my kids have admitted it’s a long way. Not that I want to – I’ve jokingly made him promise that the wedding vows will say so – but it was a real personal victory to say I can.

The reward at the end

Entering the square in Santiago later in the week, where the Camino, with its oh-so-grand cathedral – ends, was far more emotional than I was expecting and I brushed away tears with surprise. The feeling of accomplishment, the people I’d journeyed with, the ones I’d met along “The Way”, the beauty I’d seen and the amazing feats of personal and communal strength I’d witnessed swirled around me as I walked into – wait for it – a car show!

Through tears, I started to laugh. My guy had brought me half way around the world for a 117km walk to a vintage car show! Fortunately, the old vehicles all vacated during the night and the following day, we saw the square, and all the pilgrims reaching it, as it was meant to be. But that will always be a fun part of my story – my first Camino!

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