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| "Um, I was led to believe there would be trail on this trail." |
Unfulfilled expectations can be a big mental hurdle when on a long distance hike. If you think the AT is going to be a solitary experience, you’re going to be disappointed. If you think there are going to be shelters all along the PCT, you’re going to be disappointed. And if you think the CDT is going to involve walking on actual trail the entire time, you’re going to be completely lost and slightly terrified and eating nothing but olive oil for an entire day.
And disappointed.
In my opinion, the best way to combat the disappointment that comes from unfulfilled expectations on trail is not to have any expectations at all,
other than “I will be walking really far.” And possibly “my feet will hurt.”
The second best way to combat disappointment is to actually know what the walk you’re going to do is like and what it’s not like.
So just in case it isn’t completely obvious: a pilgrimage route in Spain established around the 9th Century is not really very much like a National Scenic Trail in the United States. At all.
This series of articles will hopefully give you a sense of what the Camino de Santiago Frances is like, how it differs from long hikes in the United States, and why, by the end of your walk, you will want to murder every rooster you see.
But first, the basics.
The Camino de Santiago Frances (hereafter referred to as “The Camino” because I’m too lazy to type the whole thing every time) is a pilgrimage route that probably starts in St. Jean Pied De Port on the French side of the Pyrenees and ends in Santiago de Compostela in Galicia in northwestern Spain. I say “probably” because some Peregrinos (Pilgrims) start in Roncesvalles on the Spanish side of the Pyrenees. I don’t recommend this, not only because St. Jean Pied De Port is a beautiful little town and the views in the mountains are amazing, but also because people who don’t climb over the Pyrenees rob themselves of the opportunity to say, “what the hell was THAT?!? Everyone told me this walk was EASY.”
I also say “probably” because many people continue on past Santiago, either to Finisterre or Muxia or both. I do recommend this. There is something spectacular about finishing your journey across Spain at the ocean, gazing out at the Atlantic with your fellow Peregrinos as the sun sets, and saying, “that looks like a tough ford.”
The walk itself is about 500 miles long and cuts across northern Spain on a path that is occasionally what you might think of as trail but is more often dirt road or what are called “sendas” -- dirt or gravel walkways alongside roads. You should get the “about 500 miles” bit out of your head as quickly as possible, though, and start thinking of it as “about 800 kilometers.” Why? First, nobody else uses miles, weirdo. And second, it sounds a lot more impressive to say you walked “24 kilometers” yesterday instead of “15 miles.”
Why all of the roads? Because the Camino was designed as a pilgrimage route. It wasn’t built to go over the most challenging ground possible and scale the highest peaks. It was built to take the simplest route to Santiago for people who were walking across Europe a) to expiate their sins and b) because they couldn’t afford a donkey.
And it turns out that the simplest route to somewhere is also where they put the roads. In fact, if you’re on something that feels like an American trail, the chances are excellent that you’re really just on an old Roman road that hasn’t had any repair work done since 8 BC.
So the route is neither particularly remote nor anything even resembling technical. You’re just walking. And if you’re the sort of long distance hiker who loves "town day," you are going to want to marry the Camino.
Compared to some American trails, the Camino is very well marked. I’d say it’s on a par with the Appalachian Trail, in that theoretically you could walk it without maps (but in reality you should totally carry maps).
There are two main symbols or markers that will guide you as you walk the Camino. The first is the scallop shell, or concha de vieira. At first you will notice the modern blue and yellow version of the shell on markers and signs, and then the more you look around you will see it everywhere. On railings, on walls, in churches, on light posts, on sidewalks, details on buildings, graffitti, tee shirts, business signs, your dreams. EVERYWHERE. If being severely allergic to shellfish meant you couldn’t LOOK at shellfish, there would be piles of dead people all over the place along the Camino. But more on the shell later, because you’ll probably also be carrying one.
These directional arrows point the way as you walk west, and are incredibly helpful unless you can’t find them in the dark when you’re starting your day at 6am because you really don’t want to hike in the afternoon. You’d think something bright yellow would be easy to find, wouldn’t you? And they usually are. But sometimes you miss one because it’s tiny and faded and nine feet up on a wall
(or down on the curb)
(or on a wall you won’t see until after you make the correct turn),
and you wander around in the dark muttering to yourself about how some jackass like me told you the Camino was “very well marked.”
Really, though, the only time we had an issue was leaving town early in the morning, in the dark. The solution? After arriving in town, one of the tasks I assigned myself was doing some recon while it was light out and figuring out how to leave the next morning. And just because that recon also involved visiting every bar in town, it didn’t mean I wasn’t doing work. Because Estrella beer signs probably also qualify as one of the markers of the Camino Route.
In the next Night Hiking To Mars article, I’ll detail the things we needed to carry, the things we didn’t need to carry but carried anyway, and all of the things that people carry on a National Scenic Trail that you will be perfectly happy leaving at home. To read the next article, click HERE.
In my opinion, the best way to combat the disappointment that comes from unfulfilled expectations on trail is not to have any expectations at all,
other than “I will be walking really far.” And possibly “my feet will hurt.”
The second best way to combat disappointment is to actually know what the walk you’re going to do is like and what it’s not like.
So just in case it isn’t completely obvious: a pilgrimage route in Spain established around the 9th Century is not really very much like a National Scenic Trail in the United States. At all.
This series of articles will hopefully give you a sense of what the Camino de Santiago Frances is like, how it differs from long hikes in the United States, and why, by the end of your walk, you will want to murder every rooster you see.
But first, the basics.
The Route
The Camino de Santiago Frances (hereafter referred to as “The Camino” because I’m too lazy to type the whole thing every time) is a pilgrimage route that probably starts in St. Jean Pied De Port on the French side of the Pyrenees and ends in Santiago de Compostela in Galicia in northwestern Spain. I say “probably” because some Peregrinos (Pilgrims) start in Roncesvalles on the Spanish side of the Pyrenees. I don’t recommend this, not only because St. Jean Pied De Port is a beautiful little town and the views in the mountains are amazing, but also because people who don’t climb over the Pyrenees rob themselves of the opportunity to say, “what the hell was THAT?!? Everyone told me this walk was EASY.”
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| A look that says, "Wait. OVER the Pyrenees?!? What the crap?" |
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| A Peregrina realizes her journey is over, because she cannot swim. |
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| Miles are for suckers. |
Why all of the roads? Because the Camino was designed as a pilgrimage route. It wasn’t built to go over the most challenging ground possible and scale the highest peaks. It was built to take the simplest route to Santiago for people who were walking across Europe a) to expiate their sins and b) because they couldn’t afford a donkey.
And it turns out that the simplest route to somewhere is also where they put the roads. In fact, if you’re on something that feels like an American trail, the chances are excellent that you’re really just on an old Roman road that hasn’t had any repair work done since 8 BC.
So the route is neither particularly remote nor anything even resembling technical. You’re just walking. And if you’re the sort of long distance hiker who loves "town day," you are going to want to marry the Camino.
Markers Along The Way
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| The modern shell & arrow marker next to a cross, because those are everywhere too. |
There are two main symbols or markers that will guide you as you walk the Camino. The first is the scallop shell, or concha de vieira. At first you will notice the modern blue and yellow version of the shell on markers and signs, and then the more you look around you will see it everywhere. On railings, on walls, in churches, on light posts, on sidewalks, details on buildings, graffitti, tee shirts, business signs, your dreams. EVERYWHERE. If being severely allergic to shellfish meant you couldn’t LOOK at shellfish, there would be piles of dead people all over the place along the Camino. But more on the shell later, because you’ll probably also be carrying one.
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| Eventually you will see shells pretty much everywhere. |
The other main marker is the yellow arrow, or flecha amarilla.
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| This is terrifying. |
These directional arrows point the way as you walk west, and are incredibly helpful unless you can’t find them in the dark when you’re starting your day at 6am because you really don’t want to hike in the afternoon. You’d think something bright yellow would be easy to find, wouldn’t you? And they usually are. But sometimes you miss one because it’s tiny and faded and nine feet up on a wall
(or down on the curb)
(or on a wall you won’t see until after you make the correct turn),
and you wander around in the dark muttering to yourself about how some jackass like me told you the Camino was “very well marked.”
Really, though, the only time we had an issue was leaving town early in the morning, in the dark. The solution? After arriving in town, one of the tasks I assigned myself was doing some recon while it was light out and figuring out how to leave the next morning. And just because that recon also involved visiting every bar in town, it didn’t mean I wasn’t doing work. Because Estrella beer signs probably also qualify as one of the markers of the Camino Route.
 |
| What? I'm working over here. |
In the next Night Hiking To Mars article, I’ll detail the things we needed to carry, the things we didn’t need to carry but carried anyway, and all of the things that people carry on a National Scenic Trail that you will be perfectly happy leaving at home. To read the next article, click HERE.
This is great. I have mentioned it before, but I also think it is totally cool that you did this with your mom, and I wish I could do likewise.
ReplyDeleteYou want to hike the Camino with my Mom? I bet she will, if you ask.
DeleteWell, since my mom is 88 and can't walk that far, I guess I could borrow yours. I'm getting to an age where moms are harder to come by.
DeleteMichael Thomas Daniel "Lion King" starts his DVD of the American Discovery Trail with a clip of him coming up out of the Atlantic Ocean at Cape Henlopen, Delaware, and saying "That was a tough ford!" that's what your comment about the "tough ford" reminded me of. And I also remember Francis Tapon saying the Camino sucks. That doesn't put me off, I would still like to hike it someday. Thanks for your informative article(s). They increase my hankerin' for walkin' El Camino...
ReplyDeleteGlad you enjoy the articles! The reason that part might remind you of the beginning of Lion King's ADT movie is that the opening scene was my idea (and so was that joke). I was operating the camera for those shots, which were shot near the Delaware Breakwater East End Lighthouse -- close to but not actually on the beach where the ADT begins.
Delete