Once a Christian pilgrimage route dating back to the 9th century, the Camino de Santiago, or the Way of St. James, is now considered a cultural route of the Council of Europe. The Camino, colloquially, stretches through France, Spain, and Portugal, with all paths leading to Santiago de Compostela, the site of the relics of St. James discovered centuries before.
Pilgrims from all over the world come to hike parts of the Camino, with a select few embarking on an entire journey. The full route takes between one and four months, but most opt for only a portion of the hike.
Coincidentally, one of the most traveled paths, El Camino Frances, is located in my backyard. Though stretching over 490 miles, the most popular viewpoint of this pilgrimage is located just outside of Pamplona, with its route intersecting my campus at the University of Navarra.
One fateful Sunday morning, I packed a lunch, queued a book on tape, and set out to reach this viewpoint. I didn’t know how long the hike would take or where I would end up, but I found comfort in knowing that at any point I could turn around and make it home for a hot shower and some dinner. Starting on campus, I simply followed the way of the St. James’ scallop shell that directed me across the historic route. The path bent and curved along the hills and valleys, with conveniently placed benches for resting after the more difficult climbs.
During the initial ascent, the weather was in my favor. With only a few passing showers I traversed the clay path with ease. The intermittent clouds gave me relief during the more challenging inclines, while the occasional sun revealed the expansive landscape around me. However, I grew concerned as the scattered showers turned to a brief downpour as I reached the final peak. As I stood amidst the deluge, I knew that the once-hardened clay path would quickly turn into soupy mud, making my descent much more difficult.
Nonetheless, when I reached the top, the rain suddenly halted, and the clouds shifted to reveal a complete rainbow across the sky. I took this as a good omen and carried on my journey back home. However, my suspicions were confirmed after reaching the first impasse, a five-foot stretch of muddy clay with little alternative routes. After pondering my choices, I decided the best option was to scale the mountainside over the treacherous mud. However, I underestimated the agility of my footwear and instantly slipped into the ankle-deep sludge.
I had no choice but to carry on, so carry on I did, every step squishing with the memory of my fateful blunder. Anticipating further impasses, I collected large rocks to help me cross the next path. With my backpack full of rocks I was able to place stones in the particularly muddy parts, allowing me to continue with ease. This system worked well, and eventually, I found myself at the foot of campus once more, just in time for another brief period of rain.
As I trudged to my apartment door, I left relics of my journey across the hallway in the form of muddy footprints. In the kitchen, cleaning off my shoes, I laughed with my roommates at the absurdity of having just embarked on one of Europe's most revered cultural routes while armed with only a single sandwich, an audiobook, and some rocks.
Abigail Gaetz
Spring 2024
GW Exchange - University of Navarra
Elliott School of International Affairs
International Affairs Major
The Global Bachelor's Program