Sunrises to Santiago: Searching for Purpose on the Camino de Santiago

by Gabriel Schirm

  The thought is sad, but I guess I understand. As with anything that is growing with popularity, it is hard to keep the authenticity of an experience. To me, it makes finding the hidden gems all that more special.

  This particular Spaniard has traveled the world and his philosophy is to treat travelers as he likes to be treated when he is in a foreign country. This includes fresh food, making you feel at home, and sharing a part of your culture. I love this guy. He shares stories about the Galician culture as he refills our delicious hot drink. We all cup the drinks with our hands as if huddled around a campfire.

  “Escucha,” he says. Listen. His tone turning serious. “Despite all of this. The Camino de Santiago is the greatest journey in the world. I am the man I am today because of the Camino.” All of us in the room nod enthusiastically thinking about our own journeys thus far and what we have learned.

  “The Camino de Santiago is like a pencil.” He holds up a pencil for effect. “Each of us is like a dull pencil when we begin the journey. Just like this pencil. Sure, it writes! But not as well as it could.”

  My face is getting warm from the strong drink, but I am completely engrossed in his analogy.

  “The Camino de Santiago sharpens you into your greatest and truest form. A better version of yourself. You are all better versions, more true versions of yourselves than when you started walking a few short weeks ago,” he explains.

  I hope he is right. I want him to be right, but I think it will take some time for me to truly understand how the Camino de Santiago has changed me. Wood shavings fall to the ground as he begins to sharpen the pencil. I look down at the shavings on the floor and a wave of understanding hits me. Why do I see pivots and failures as a bad thing in my life? My failures have made me into the person I am today. A person who finds himself in the middle of Spain learning from a grand adventure. A person who feels out of place on the path most traveled. I like that person. My physical challenges on the Camino were just a few chips, shavings, falling to the ground. Another event that softly whispers hey, remember why you are here. Remember and grow from it. I am the product of divorced parents, a black eye birthmark, baseball, travel and many career paths. All experiences put in my path to make me a little better. That is if I choose to learn from them. I too often choose to panic.

  Hector grabs a piece of paper and slowly writes, “El Camino de Santiago.”

  “See!” Hector holds up the paper to show us all the words. “Now this pencil is a better version of itself. Sharp and focused. The best it can be.”

  He hands me the pencil before saying goodnight. It is almost 11:30 p.m.

  “Gracias, Hector,” I say. “This has been a really incredible night.” He pats me on the shoulder and gives me a look as if to say, good luck my friend, before we all head off to bed.

  Life Stages

  Trail Day 28

  It is 6 a.m., and I look at myself in the bathroom mirror. My half closed, sleepy eyes bolt open when I see my reflection. “Oh shit!” I blurt out.

  Blood is smeared all over my face. I look at my hands, which are covered in blood too. “What the hell!” I mentally scan my body for injuries or pain, and quickly I realize what has happened. Of all the nights so far on the Camino de Santiago, last night was by far the worst night’s sleep. The entire night a seemingly endless barrage of mosquitos landed on any exposed part of my body and sucked my tired blood to their bastardly hearts’ content. The constant buzzing around my ears keeping me awake. I must have killed a few of the suckers that had become slow from bloated, blood-filled stomachs.

  I inspect myself again in the mirror and start laughing like a crazed serial killer. This of course makes me laugh harder. I clean myself up and head back to our room. The two girls from Israel in our room look tired, too, and they confirm the buzzing kept them up all night. “Mosquitos?” I ask Amy who is just waking up on the top bunk.

  “Yeeeep,” she replies in a grumpy tone. As if on cue, another mosquito buzzes by my ear. “Let’s get out of here before we need a blood transfusion.”

  I booked a five star hotel before we came to Spain, and it is waiting for us in Santiago de Compostela. I cannot wait. We both drag ourselves outside into the forest to begin the day’s trek. We soon find the trail enveloped by thick groves of eucalyptus trees and adopt a very slow pace continuing on in silence for hours. This has very much become the routine. A routine which I know I will miss when it is all over in a few short days.

  “Is your spiritual pencil sharpening?” I ask Amy.

  “I guess so. I hope so,” she laughs.

  Everyone we meet today seems to be dragging, too, as we are nearing the end. By late afternoon we make it to Salceda, a small village on the side of the highway. After checking into an albergue and scoring a four-bed room again, we shower and head downstairs. I am surprised to see our other Australian friend Blake (but no Aaron) and Sam the artist from London whom we haven’t seen since just before Léon.

  “I saw Aaron yesterday! I can’t believe you guys caught us on foot. You are making me feel slow,” I say to Blake.

  “What did he say?” Blake replies.

  “Who? Aaron?” I ask. Blake nods. “Oh, he said 30 days is a long time to walk together. That’s all,” I reply, sensing a fresh wound.

  “Is that all! We got into a bit of a tussle right after we saw you.” He is clearly angry. “It is so stupid really. We fought over the bottom bunk at an albergue, and the next morning I woke up, and he was gone. I guess I will see him at the airport when we get on the same flight back home.”

  We make plans for dinner, and after a few hours of napping, we meet up at one of the only restaurants in town. We end up sitting with a man from Latvia whom I judge to be in his late 60s.

  “I am Henrick, nice to meet you,” he says while shaking hands with everyone.

  I don’t even know where Latvia is exactly, but as usual, the human spirit is the same. If he makes it to Santiago on his planned arrival day, he will have finished the entire journey from France in 23 days! This without bus or taxi assistance. The man is a beast.

  As we devour some much-needed calories and drink ruby red Spanish wine, he opens up about why he has walked the Camino de Santiago. He is a scientist and is thinking about changing things up and trying something new. “I am tired of the comfortable rut I have carved out for myself,” he explains to the table. All of us are listening with our full attention.

  “I love my life and wife of course. I enjoy my job as a scientist. But … I … I don’t know, I … .” He can’t seem to find the right words to express his feelings.

  I know the feeling well and finish for him, “But you are tired of the same ol’, same ol’. You want something more. Something that matters more to you. A change?”

  “Exactly. But it’s different for me than for you,” he replies and continues on as we all devour fried potatoes covered with olive oil and bits of Jamón.

  “What do you mean?” Blake asks.

  “I am in a later stage of life and—” We all shoot him looks of you’re not that old, what are you talking about.

  “No, really,” he continues, sincerely wanting us to hear his point of view. “I am closer to the end of my life than you are. I am a scientist, and I think about life in that way. I don’t care if I am getting older, I just am. I don’t fear death at all. I look at it in a factual way and, well, leaving a respected job you have held for more than 30 years is going to shock so many people in my life. Including my wife and children.”

  “Yeah, but wouldn’t they all just want you to be happy?” Sam asks as Blake tops off our wine.

  “But it is my identity. My job is who I am,” he replies in a sad, almost longing, voice. “Is it worth spending the time I have left on this earth, my final chapter, going back to school and starting from scratch with no guarantees? I am supposed to be retiring and relaxing like all of my friends. It is a tough decision!”

  Is he crazy to change careers just before he retires? We all roll
the question around in our heads as we ponder his dilemma. I think again about the pencil analogy we heard last night. The Camino has a way of helping you become a better version of yourself. “I think you should go for it,” I blurt out. The others at the table nod in agreement.

  “You know, yesterday Sam and I met a man who is attempting to complete the Camino de Santiago by wheelchair,” Blake says. “He is paralyzed from the neck down and his friend volunteered to push him all the way from St. Jean to Santiago. They have already made it this far. Talk about bravery.”

  “They had a cardboard sign on the back of the wheelchair asking for volunteers to push for a while,” Sam explains. “So we jumped in and pushed for an hour or so. It was so hard and his friend, the one that is pushing him, looked really, really tired.”

  Amy looks like she is about to cry. “That is amazing,” she says.

  Sam continues, “The man in the wheelchair was in such a positive place in life. What struck me was just how happy he was. You rarely meet people who are so full of joy. He couldn’t stop smiling, and his story was pretty amazing. He wasn’t born that way. He was in an accident, when he was in high school and for some reason his body keeps getting worse. But he is determined to make the most out of his life. He is a world traveler and has been more places than I bet anyone at this table.”

  “It puts things in perspective doesn’t it?” Blake says.

  “It does,” Henrick nods in agreement and then says, “That is really quite inspirational. They are just going for it. Who cares what life says is possible and what is not.”

  “We are about a day away from Santiago. Has the Camino helped you come to a decision?” Amy asks.

  He pauses and then replies with a slight smile, “I think so, yes. I really do think so.”

  I recognize the excited sparkle in his eye and already know his decision. Henrik is going to make a change.

  I find comfort in other people’s stories. Listening to Henrik’s dilemma, I feel less alone. Less crazy. In him I see courage, not confusion. I remember the moments I knew it was time for a change in my life and how terrifying this can be. My radio career, which began with elation and the words, I can’t believe they are going to pay me to do this, ended six years later when I had the courage to realize it simply wasn’t for me anymore.

  It was a Saturday morning when I had just introduced a Gwen Stefani song to the city of Denver. I edited a few videos for the station while songs and commercials played. I sat in the studio, miserable and confused. The passion was gone. I had already committed career suicide with my previous radio boss when I begged for a second chance then turned the second chance down. A few weeks after that I turned down my own night show at a big station in Denver. I wanted to focus on videos and hosting this weekend show as a sort of test to see if I could stomach radio anymore.

  The program director, who offered me my own night show, looked at me as if I had stripped down naked and done the Macarena in front of him. “I’m sorry, did you say no thank you? Do you realize what I am offering you? This is your chance. Your shot at a major market radio job. I have a line of kids who will slit your throat for this gig!” The passion had been gone for a long time. I finally had the courage to admit it to myself and terror gripped my chest. If I wasn’t a radio man, who was I? We decided to move to Spain to find out.

  Santiago de Compostela

  Trail Days 29—30

  “I feel pretty good today,” Amy says as she turns to gauge my response.

  It is about 10:30 a.m., and we have already been on the trail for a few hours. “Me, too. I think today is the day,” I respond with a big grin.

  We are going to walk all the way to our final destination, Santiago de Compostela. I have a mix of emotions. I am sad, glad, happy, and everything in between. Above all, Amy and I are trying to enjoy the moment and soak in every second of the walk today as we make our way to the end.

  We cross through forests and fields and over hills. We take our time snapping photos and taking advantage of old wooden benches and spectacular views. After hours of walking, we round a bend in the trail and finally get our first glimpse of Santiago de Compostela. We stop in awe to stare at the miniature buildings below us connected by wide concrete roads.

  “We made it!” Amy yells to the sky. The buildings looks like a collection of miniature dollhouses down below. Somehow they don’t seem real.

  It is a strange feeling to have been thinking about a destination for the past 30 days. Then when you actually see it, you want to feel elated. You want to have a moment where you cry and fall to your knees, the angels singing and people applauding your achievement. This, in fact, is what you have been looking forward to the whole time. But as we make our way into the city in search of the famous cathedral, where St. James himself resides in a silver tomb, I feel nothing but shock.

  We have been in the serene, silent, natural beauty of Galicia for days and the bustle of the city is overwhelming. It is like spending a few hours inside of a dark room and walking outside into the bright light of midday. Your senses are overwhelmed, and it is hard to handle. People speed by, busy with the business of living their lives. Horns honk, and we blend into the sea of humanity.

  We do eventually make our way to the city center, round the corner and just like that, find ourselves in front of The Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. This massive structure was finished and blessed in the year 1211 and has seen thousands upon thousands of pilgrims over the years.1 Today, it welcomes us.

  There are weary pilgrims lying in the Praza do Obradoiro using their backpacks as pillows, staring up at the cathedral, much like me, in disbelief. Some are crying. Many are hugging each other. Still others look on with no emotion at all. Much like me, I wonder what exactly I am supposed to feel. There is a little tourist train slowly making its way into the center of the square. It looks like it is straight from Disneyland, chugging around us on small rubber tires over the old cobblestones. Tourists in the train are snapping pictures of the pilgrims like they are on safari, and we are the animals on display in our native setting.

  I gaze up at the giant cathedral as the stone carving of St. James stares down from its perch up above, and I try to think of nothing at all. I focus on being completely here, in the moment, experiencing this with Amy. I feel relaxed and relieved to have made it this far. In total, we have traveled 788 kilometers, or 490 miles, in 29 days. We walked 655.8 kilometers, or 408 miles, and the rest we completed by taxi, train, and bus.

  We see many of the people we have met along the Way in the square and say hello, but everyone seems to be lost in thought. No one seems elated as I would have expected. Maybe it is a sort of sadness that this is all over, and we have to go back to the real world. If nothing else, this has been a true adventure that I am truly grateful to have had.

  “Well,” I say, turning to Amy. We are both seated on the stone ground, staring up at the scene. “How ya feelin?”

  “Good. I guess,” Amy replies. She seems to be in the same state as I am. “Should I be crying? There are lots of people crying.”

  “I don’t think you should be anything,” I reply.

  “Are we dead inside?” she jokes.

  “I don’t think so,” I laugh. We both stare back up at the giant old cathedral.

  The building is undergoing a restoration. There is scaffolding covering much of the front of the building with a giant picture of what you should be seeing. It seems somehow appropriate. I feel I should be wearing a sign myself that reads, “Restoration in progress thanks to the Camino de Santiago.” I have not yet grasped the restoration, and it may take months to finally understand it all.

  “Well, I know what I am feeling. I am feeling like I need to eat a big plate of Jamón,” I tell Amy. “You hungry?”

  “Now you’re talkin,” she replies.

  We sit in the square for a while more, taking it all in before deciding to find a hotel and then dinner. What a day and what an adventure this has been. We have arrived a
day earlier than we had planned so have to wait until tomorrow to check in to our five star hotel. It is 6 p.m. We decide we have had enough of albergues and choose a pensión, which is basically one step above a hostel and one below a hotel. The pensión is glorious. I have spent the last month drying myself with the little travel shammy towel I got from REI, and the giant white hotel towel seems like an extraordinary gift fit for a king.

  The next day, we sleep in, enjoying the pillow top bed.

  “Our last day in Spain,” I tell Amy. My few words loaded with mixed emotions. It seems somehow unnatural waking up and not walking.

  We will spend our last day attending the Pilgrim Mass, which takes place at noon inside the giant cathedral. I plan on using today to try and reflect on what has happened over the past 30 days. I also plan on eating every food that I love here in Spain before we leave tomorrow. That means Churros con Chocolate for breakfast. One thing I am not worried about right now is calories!

  After a delicious breakfast, we make our way to the Praza de Obradoiro, the golden square of Santiago, to observe the new pilgrim arrivals and do some thinking. As we sit and take in the scene, I spot a familiar face in the crowd. The Barista and the Hungarian crew whom we met the first few days on the trail! We rush over to them to say hello, and I am so happy to see them.

  “Still wearing my knee brace I see,” The Barista jokes.

  I smile and reply, “Did you find your answers on the trail?”

  “I did. I will open the best coffee shop in the world when I get home,” he replies with a look of excitement in his eyes.

  After this, we see John from New Orleans and the woman from Boulder, Colorado, who carried 7 pounds of oatmeal with her along the Way! It is like a little Camino reunion right in the square. The Hungarians are planning to walk to Finisterre, the end of the earth, and I wish we had time to join them.