Day 1 on the Camino: A Pilgrim's Photo Journal
Arriving at the starting point of The French Way on the Camino de Santiago, an ancient pilgrimage that traverses Spain through mountains, plateaus, and all the shit you've been trying to avoid.
In 2023, I walked 500 miles on the Camino de Santiago on a grief pilgrimage. As I approach my next journey—a 100 day self-made writing pilgrimage across the U.S.—I find myself reflecting more than usual on those long summer days in Spain.
This 40-day photo journal series is a result of that, a kind of visual love letter to the Way.
May it serve as a reminder of the importance of practicing presence and care for all that arises as we walk our own paths.
Day 1: Arriving to St. Jean Pied-de-Port
Date:
Thursday, June 15, 2023
Start:
Los Angeles, California, USA
End:
*St. Jean Pied-de-Port, France
*To be clear: this all took like… 48 hours and a combination of taxis, metros, and trains, plus a night in Paris because I didn’t want to rush things.
After a long flight to Paris from LA followed by a fitful night’s sleep, I walked in a near-elated state to the train station with a paper cup of espresso in hand. I boarded the first of two trains that would get me to my “official” starting point for The French Way (El Camino Frances) in St. Jean Pied-de-Port, France.
Though the next day would be my “official” first day of walking, I still count this as Day 1, but you’re seeing those quotation marks because I could just as easily say it was the day I left California or the following day when I started walking or even the moment I decided to go on a pilgrimage at all.
It’s not the right thing to be focusing on, in any case. I’d made it! Felt such relief and excitement.
I bet you’ve never seen someone so happy and excited to get grieving!
Jokes aside, it was a deeply meaningful experience to arrive at the threshold of St Jean Pied-de-Port. In fact, I wrote at length about this moment in my first issue of Presence and Pilgrimage.
The pilgrim hostel where I’d made a reservation was still closed when I’d passed through the archway and walked up the hilly, cobblestone street. It was directly across from The Pilgrim’s Office, so I placed my backpack in the line others had formed with their own and then sat down on the curb until it opened.
The office is one place where you can get your pilgrim passport (credential) and first stamp. You need it to present at pilgrim hostels in order to stay at them. I felt incredibly emotional when it was my turn to sit across from one of the volunteers and fill in my name and get my first stamp.
The volunteer I spoke with was so kind and asked me about why I was walking, and instead of saying much, I actually took out the prayer card from my grandfather’s funeral to just show her.
She surprised me by taking it and really looking at it, taking him in, and asking where he was from. I told her his parents were from Belgium but he was a first-generation American, and she nodded and said something like, “He looks Belgian,” with a kind smile. My hands were shaking when she handed it back, and she took them into hers and looked at me with such warmth and then stood to lean over the desk and give me a hug—I could cry thinking about it now.
A tradition on the Camino is to walk with a scallop shell on your bag to identify yourself as a pilgrim (though it used to be that you’d only get the shell once you reached the ocean because back in the day, for a while at least, that was the only way you could prove you’d gone the whole way).
You could get a shell at the pilgrim office if you wanted and place a donation in a box they were next to. It started feeling more and more real after I heard my coins clink into it as I chose my shell.
One of my greatest concerns pre-departure was how the pilgrim hostels would work. I sleep just fine now, but I’m a light sleeper. This means that if you take away my perfectly-squashed pillow, worn-in mattress, temperature-controlled room, fan, and ambient background noise—well, it’s not good.
I ended up in a room with two other beds and knew one of the women from having met her at a train station earlier. A blanket was provided (not all hostels would have them, so I’d brought a summer sleeping bag) along with the only actual full-size pillow for the next month. There was even a tiny chocolate on top of it all.
After getting oriented and settled in, I walked around town and enjoyed its quaint charm. I could see why so many tourists were there, local French folks and their families, because it was just lovely to roam around. Plus, the pilgrim energy was amazing!
I stopped in a church while exploring (and looking for an adapter to replace the one I’d already somehow broken) and lit my first candle in honor of my Pipi. I could feel how things were starting to shift, how the excitement was wearing down in a way, and the reality of what I was about to embark the next day was settling in.
In the hours leading up to the communal dinner at the pilgrim hostel, I got to know some fellow pilgrims. We hailed from the US, France, Italy, Spain, and Australia. There was a very tired couple who’d just finished biking to and from Santiago, and this was their last night. For most of the rest of us, it was our first.
I enjoyed how one of the two hostel volunteers facilitated the meal by asking questions that we all briefly answered, including why we were walking. She translated everything into three languages, if I remember correctly, as we went around sharing.
Stay tuned for day 2 tomorrow, where I try and write actual photo captions!
Buen Camino,
Katie
Walking in Awareness
Thinking of taking a pilgrimage of your own (no boots required)? My next course, The Inner Pilgrimage: A 100 Day Journey, begins in September.
Go inward on Tuesdays in my free meditation group from 8:30-9 am PST. Sessions will be paused or sporadic starting in June.