This is the most common question asked among fellow walkers/pilgrims (maybe second to “where did you start?”) and by loved ones (maybe second to “were you lonely?” and “how were your feet?”).
It’s a great conversation starter- depending on the responder’s choice, it can be a casual filler or life story sharing time.
It’s good practice, too. At the Compostela office in Santiago, where each pilgrim turns in official Camino “passports” stamped daily to prove authenticity, all are asked this question on the record (en espagňol and in writing, at that). Confessing religious or spiritual reasons gets you a fancier document of completion than claiming neither motive.
I loved hearing people’s responses as this came up while hiking or sharing dinner together each day.
Many were Spaniards, completing a life goal or annual tradition. “The 3 Amigos” live near Barcelona and trekked together. They are retirees with wives and grown children back home, enjoying a month of tongue-in-cheek humor and afternoon rum concoctions. One has walked this path 23 times already! All 3 walked faster than me every day! How humbling.
Another older man, affectionately deemed the “Anti-Buddha,” lost his job this past winter. He’d always wanted to do the walk, but never found the time. This spring, stumped by financial worries, it seems was the perfect time.
He wasn’t the only one on employment hiatus. The first pilgrim I met in Leon, an American math genius, quit his finance job after compromising his ethics for too long. Immediately after finishing the Camino, he moved from one American coast to the other to start fresh.
In Fonfria, I briefly met a South Korean guy who used to design vehicles and doesn’t know what he will do next.
On the way to Rabanal I met a disagreeable French Canadian who had the opposite problem- too much work. He owns a music production company, and months of 80 hour work weeks forced him to step back for a couple months to re-evaluate.
A more amiable Québécois man I met in Melide was burnt out from work. He’s been laboring for 25 years to reforest his region, and decided on walking a fourth Camino to unwind.
For two bricklayers, this was part of the job. Following an 800 year tradition of the trade, these guys were to travel the world for several years, studying and learning other methods of their craft. Spain was the last of many countries of which they strode around, in quite eye-catching and somewhat impractical garb: thick tan vests, tan corduroy pants with trim, white pirate/ English noblemen tunics, hiking/work boots, and a study brown hat in a U.S. Park Ranger style. We stayed at the same hostels for about a week, and though I tried I never saw them in pajamas or sporting another look. Their stories fascinated me, especially juxtaposed with their love for American muscle cars and Lady Gaga.
Many hostel and restaurant owners were former pilgrims who gave up their life before the Camino and decided to make their mission and living on the Camino. At the “end of the world” in Finisterra, the hostel manager was a former Madrid taxi driver who joined the Camino and never went back home. He’s had a hard time accepting his responsibilities of sleeping in the hostel with us, after living like a hippy hobo/ extended camper on the shore of Death Coast for the winter.
The most controversial Camino-convert I had the odd pleasure of meeting was Davit. After stumbling uphill 15k alone, I met this handsome Spaniard, who lives outside an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere, offering free juice, water and snacks to passersby. He wears no deodorant, shoes or underwear; rings a large bell and gives out hugs when pilgrims arrive and depart; and tells how God provides for him as he earns and owns nothing. This is after he got addicted to hard drugs, lost his riches and abandoned his wife and children (who he still does not support in any way). His shocking stocking-up in another town’s chain supermarket, in snappy professional clothing, rumored free loving with female pilgrims and soap opera past made for many dinner conversations among pilgrims.
Most walkers (and bicyclers and pack-animal riders, to be inclusive) had some spiritual or religious goal. Some only half-joked that this medieval Catholic practice of pilgrimage as penance for sin would grant them the okay into heaven and a history cleared of sin.
My Swiss friend, a former boxer and current homeopathic doctor, was raised Catholic but believes all paths lead to the same God. His Swedish cinema-enthusiast hiking buddy hadn’t even heard the basic outline of the Christian faith before. One morning, I joined morning prayers led by several Korean nuns. One night, I shared a room with a Muslim Palestinian guy studying medicine in Italy.
The pilgrim who was most forthcoming and openly humble about his faith status was a Norwegian man with summer-day blue eyes and a matching plaid button down shirt. This former banker was on disability for anxiety problems. He confided in me that his life was going great- he had impeccable control over things- but it is eating at his soul. He grew up trying to please people and perfect his behavior, and he was good at it, which led to an insatiable need to control everything around him. As a Christian, he spent years trying to earn God’s love, which he had only recently learned was a gift not dependant on actions. He hoped backpacking a second Camino, living simply day to day, would help God’s peace resonate deeper.
For some folks it is pure holiday adventure, a grand hike. And rightfully so- it’s a well developed trail and adopted lifestyle that requires no maps and technology, with food and lodging options of all varieties available every couple kilometers, for over 1,000 kilometers!
Panting into Astorga, I joined 3 Germans who were all from different towns but incidentally all police investigators. None of them were drawn to the faith element or history of the Camino. One girl my age is the daughter of a local wine maker (the best in the area, naturally) and a traditional folk dance instructor on weekends. She saw a special about the way on TV and convinced her friend to tag along. They cherished the last weeks before they began packed schedules in law enforcement, chain-smoking between downing soda and chocolate donuts across Spain.
And what better way to deal with a romantic predicament than poetically walking across Spain? A 21 year old Frenchman was trying to decide if he should propose to his girlfriend or not. He practiced his English and me my French over wine and yummy olive tapas. He loves her dearly, they’ve been together 3 years, but he doesn’t care about marriage and won’t have a means to provide for her the way he thinks he should for several more years. He decided to go for it!
A 30-something Dutch woman was on the other side of the spectrum, marriage ended. They met and married soon after graduating school, and he grew cruel and abusive, so they divorced. She met another man, who also broke her heart. This was her first big travel venture in life alone, to wrestle with memories and heal. She mentioned repeatedly she was swearing off men for years and years (unless they were attractive, nice, and it was purely sexual).
I answered spiritual and religious reasons officially on the Compostela, and can boil down my reasoning to two motives: challenge and appreciation.
I’d never done anything like this before, and had placed this kind of physical experience on a pedestal. I realized I felt physically and internally incapable of this simple, consistent, voluntary challenge. Which meant of course that I wanted to do it, to prove my doubts wrong and grow stronger.
2011 was the roughest year so far of my short-lived 23 on this big rock, in every possible aspect (relationships, family, physical health, distance, living conditions, hygiene, mental health, spiritual exhaustion, non-existent finances, rotten employer, unstable workplace, gender-related assault, fewest comforts and control…). 2012 has been an extended gift of breathing deeper and easier. I’m just so grateful for my lot, and can see marked improvements from last year’s experiences. I didn’t go on the walk as a break, as a stimulant, to decide something important, to escape, to find something in particular. I was motivated by happiness and joy. And what a blessing to be able to have this as my reality, and to see and marvel at it!
What a wonderful state to be in, walking in silence (alone or with people), with an easy-going contentedness giving spring to my steps.
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