Camino Primitivo offers the most beautiful sunrises wrapped in mist, but its length is shorter than a weekend—just over 300 kilometres. Way too little for my soul. So, my original plan was that when I arrive in Santiago, I’d rotate myself 90 degrees and head back to the starting point of this route. But plans here hold up like the weather in April. That descent that lasted a good 9 kilometres on my fifth walking day turned my plan upside down… Even though I’ve loved walking long distances for years, I’ve never grown fond of uphill climbs—and I probably never will. Five days ago, this path was still unknown to me, I had no idea what awaited, and that’s what kept me moving forward. The not-knowing, the curiosity of what view was hiding behind the next corner. That curiosity that pushes you on.
But once the unknown becomes familiar, the excitement fades—especially when you know that on the way back, a 9-kilometre climb awaits. That particular sport, picking your lungs up off the ground on the way up, seemed unnecessary to me. Let the memory remain of hills draped in mist that brought me to my knees with their beauty. Orange-red sunrises made sure my vocal cords got their release from the sheer beauty of the colours. Tears of joy because I got the chance to see how good Mother Nature is at painting. So going back made no sense—it wouldn’t be the same. I’d have expectations, and that’s never a good thing. That day, I was thinking about doing the Camino Inglés once I finished this path. I’ve got more than enough time. But the landscape didn’t convince me on Google. Visiting Muxía and Finisterre seemed much more appealing. There aren’t crowds of hikers on that route, and there’s no fear of running out of places to sleep. On the Camino Inglés, it’s the opposite story.
A rest day in Santiago looks like walking 20 km in flip-flops as a tourist, buying postcards, sightseeing, and licking your fingers clean from the amazing food at a hidden little restaurant tucked in the narrow alleys of Santiago. That’s where I crafted the plan for the next day. The biggest question was: how many kilometres do I walk tomorrow? Since I was rested, I felt like walking the whole day, so I picked the village Lago in the app—47 km away from my current location. What I forgot was that my accommodation was at the very start of Santiago, which means an extra 5 km. I realised this, of course, in the morning. Lovely shock therapy. Mentally, I had somehow prepared for 50—but not for 52 km. I know, what’s 2 more kilometres, right? Look, based on 50 km, two extra is like driving another 100 km on top of 500. I had already booked my accommodation, so there was nothing else left but GO BIG OR GO HOME. These are the challenges I ask for. I wanted some suffering, maybe even just a little pain in my legs—which still hadn’t shown up on this Camino. My wish came true, and I walked the last 7 km in agony. Unpleasant company, the kind that reminds you how beautiful it is to walk alone, as long as you’re not Herr Flick from Allo 'Allo!.
I arrived at the accommodation late, with no time to wash my clothes—they wouldn’t have dried by morning anyway. I just had a Coke and wrapped myself in a sleeping bag in bed. Once again, the scent of cow shit kept me company that day. Enough of this crap, I told myself. Tomorrow I want to feel sea salt on my skin and the stench of dead fish on a fishing boat returning from its morning haul.
So, tomorrow my destination is Muxía. The app split this entire route into four stages—that’s for pussies. Three is for normal people, two for idiots.
And here I go again—into the role of the idiot.
