A year ago today, May 30, 2024, I ended my Camino pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostella. Though my feet don’t hurt as I write this, and my backpack has long been tucked into the closet, the emotion of finally entering the city hasn’t dimmed.

Our first glimpse of the city was from a hilltop, still several miles away. As I wrote in a previous post, we’d been told we’d see the city, the steeples of the cathedral, and at the hilltop several beautiful statues. On this particular day however, Green Day was headlining a major music festival so what we saw were carnival rides, campers, tents, and a different sort of pilgrim. It was all wonderful and added a celebratory excitement to the last push into town, but by this time we were anxious to be at the cathedral.

Santiago is not a small town so we had to wend our way through a business section first. Always keeping our eye to the rooftops, we hoped to finally see a spire or steeple, and the locals simply went about their business of walking the streets, talking on their phones, going in and out of offices and stores. Most didn’t give us a second glance, obviously pilgrims aren’t that unusual anymore.

This is the first peek at the cathedral, but like many spectacular sights, it hid and came back into view as we twisted and turned getting closer–like it was teasing us to find it. The cathedral is in an older section of town, of course on a hill (we were so tired of climbing hills!) and the further we entered into it, the more the energy shifted and the interaction with people on the streets dramatically changed. Every person we passed greeted us: “You’re almost there!” “Bein Camino!” “Congratulations!” “Not much further!” They were genuinely happy for us, understood the emotional, spiritual, and physical toll the walk had taken. Some reached out to shake our hands or pat us on the arm, but we felt embraced, as if they full-on hugged us. It was at this sighting we began crying for so many reasons, and the warmth of those around us added to all the other emotions. I still get choked up and teary when I think about it, or when I’m asked about it.

We passed this mural almost first thing as we left Arca, that final morning of walking. For me, it symbolized the journey of the previous 40+ days: the vistas, the solitary pilgrimage even though one is never truly alone, the end was on the horizon. In some ways it felt like the mural was announcing that we were ending our journey, but it also felt as if it was reminding me, or telling me the journeys never really end, questioning me where the next one might be. There are always other vistas and pilgrimages to experience.

A high school friend, Debbie, travels across the miles on her Harley. It’s easy for her to put 477 miles behind her in a single short day trip, miles that took us 6 weeks to cover walking. I so admire her. I imagine she experiences the same euphoria and emotional impact with each destination (each one ends with ice cream to make it official). I have friends with RVs who spend several weeks at a time on the road, taking in the beauty of nature.

I, too, am heading out on a new adventure beginning today. I didn’t plan to mark the anniversary of arriving in Santiago by leaving again, but life is sometimes interesting that way. This adventure isn’t 6 weeks long, but I will be missing two Mondays at my Writers Window. So next week feel free to drop by and peek at posts you may have missed, and I’ll be back on Tuesday the 10^th or Wednesday the 11^th. I hope you have a great week and are open to adventures of your own.