From Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port to Santo Domingo de la Calzada – the beginning of a special adventure in 2022
The journey to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port was an adventure in itself. By train and bus, we traveled south through France, with one thought in mind: tomorrow it really begins. Tomorrow we will take our first steps on the Camino Francés, something we had dreamed and talked about for so long, and now it’s finally happening.
After an overnight stay in a simple hostel, we get our first pilgrim’s stamp and a shell at the Pilgrim’s Office. Proudly, I attach the shell—the symbol of this ancient route—to my backpack. At the pilgrim shop, I also buy a small thimble, a tradition I started on previous hikes.
The first stage is “only” 8 kilometers, but don’t underestimate it—with rising temperatures and significant elevation gain, it’s tougher than expected. After 2 kilometers, it feels less like walking because you want to and more like walking because you have to. I keep going, step by step, and feel immense relief when I see the red parasols of Orisson.
Still, this first day stays with me because of the encounters. During a short break, we start talking with an American father and son—our first Camino friends. That evening, we sit together at long tables, sharing stories and laughter. The pilgrim spirit has begun.
After an early breakfast, we set off. Mist still hangs over the mountains, hiding the view, but we hear sheep bells in the distance. Along the way, two German pilgrims join us: Flow and Alex. Their company makes the climb more pleasant, and we talk about all kinds of things. Their energy is contagious.
Without noticing, we cross the French-Spanish border and reach the highest point of the route. Misty forests accompany us toward Roncesvalles. There, we say goodbye to Flow and Alex, who need to move on because of their schedule. We wonder how their journey continues but ultimately never find out.
After a warm shower and some rest, we take a short walk around the monastery. The sun finally shows itself, and with a satisfied feeling, we end the day.
We leave early, before breakfast, guided only by the light of our phones. It’s drizzling softly. In the first village, we hope to have breakfast but find only a vending machine with coffee and sweets. Not ideal, but it has its charm. Luckily, a little further on, we find a warm place with coffee and meet other pilgrims. The social side of the Camino starts to come alive.
Along the way, we meet Emma, a Flemish pilgrim with a bad blister. Kasper joins us too. Soon, we form a friendly walking group full of conversations and laughter. In Zubiri, we have lunch together, and Marty and Andy join us briefly, as does Tim, a Swiss pilgrim we had contacted earlier.
We decide to continue to Larrasoaña. Emma bravely drags herself along despite her blisters. We sing together and encourage each other. We meet Kelly and Paul, both from the USA, who walk and sing happily with us. Along the way, Christy also reserves a place in our hostel for Kelly and Paul after consulting with them. What a great group together!
That evening, we enjoy a delicious communal meal. Tired but satisfied, we go to bed early. The next morning, we plan to leave early for Cizur Menor via Pamplona. Emma decides to take a rest day because of her foot injury and to see a doctor.
Most pilgrims we walked with yesterday go only as far as Pamplona today. We decide to walk five kilometers further, to Cizur Menor. The route is fairly flat, and we feel our bodies getting used to walking.
My backpack feels like a trusted companion; the walking sticks have become indispensable. The markings, in all shapes and sizes, guide us effortlessly. The Camino seems to enter a kind of repeat mode, but it never gets boring.
In Trinidad de Arre, we make a short stop. What a charming village by the river, with a beautiful bridge and a church we pass through a tunnel to reach. Shortly after, we arrive in Pamplona and meet Emma again. She has been to the doctor for her feet, and it’s nice to see her again before we continue. We have coffee together in the city.
In Cizur Menor, we stay in a simple pilgrim hostel run by volunteers. For just €7, we get a place to sleep, and breakfast is donation-based. There’s a unique, warm atmosphere in the hostel. People sing, eat, and laugh. Cyclist pilgrims join as well. That evening, we eat outside the hostel, but the feeling of connection remains. We meet Ib, his daughter, and son-in-law from Denmark people we will meet often again.
Around six o’clock, we are woken up. Normally, I hate getting up so early, but here it feels natural. The sun rises as we walk past vast, dried sunflower fields. Silence surrounds us except for the rhythm of our footsteps.
Today, we hike to the famous monument at Alto del Perdón. A place I had seen in photos many times, and now I am here. The silhouettes of pilgrims on the ridge move me. We take our time to absorb it all.
The hostel owner from Cizur Menor drives up to greet us on the mountain. He came by car to check if “his” pilgrims made it. He warns us about the steep descent with loose stones, and he’s right.
In Uterga, we pause again with, yes, Ib and his family. Shortly after, the hostel owner from Cizur Menor joins us for a drink. In Puente la Reina, we enjoy ice cream in the cozy streets before continuing the last kilometers to Cirauqui. The sky clouds over, and a cyclist warns us of an approaching thunderstorm. Fortunately, we get inside in time.
That evening, we eat with a colorful group of pilgrims and enjoy the company. Yet we both sleep restlessly. Christy spends some time on the terrace; I enjoy a quiet moment with coffee inside in the middle of the night.
We have just left Cirauqui when I suddenly hear my name. Surprised, I turn around. It’s Andy from the USA running toward us. His father, Marty, asked him to catch up with us: they want to spend another day walking and staying with us. Such a special moment when someone makes an effort to find you just to walk together.
We walk together for a while, but each has their own pace and style. We agree to meet again in Villamayor de Monjardín. Along the way, we pass beautiful signs and markers. In Estella, we eat and take a break. There we also meet David for the first time, a pilgrim who will later join our “group.”
At the Monasterio de Irache, we stop for photos at the famous wine fountain. Then follow several challenging kilometers uphill. The heat is relentless, and afterward, I realize I was close to heatstroke. Luckily, the hostel in Villamayor provides cooling—literally and figuratively. There are footbaths with salt, cold water, and a serene calmness.
The hostel is run by Dutch people, with a religious and vegetarian approach. A beautiful, loving place. Everything is well cared for, even breakfast is ready in a bag the next morning.
That evening, we sit at a table with Andy and Marty. We enjoy the warmth of togetherness and the silence of a pilgrim’s night.
After a pleasant evening with Andy and Marty, we go to bed early. The next morning, we leave in the dark, down the hill toward Los Arcos. The sky is dramatic with dark gray clouds while the sun rises. The backlighting creates long shadows ahead a beautiful start to the day.
Along the way, my sister spontaneously uses a hay bale as a stage for a photo session. We laugh and enjoy. A little further, we find a cheerful “Buen Camino” carved into the concrete path such small surprises make this journey special.
In Los Arcos, we take a long break. Feet up, some food, time to relax. Through quiet streets, past the church, we leave the bustle behind. Peace returns.
Upon arrival in Torres del Rio, we decide to take a private room. Wonderful a shower to yourself without pilgrims waiting. In the mirror, I see the “damage” of a week of walking. Not everything is fresh and bright, but I feel strong.
Andy, Marty, and David the quiet Danish pilgrim we have seen often are already there. For the first time, we really talk to David. We immediately get along. Later, with Kelly, Paul, and Kasper, we share a table for dinner. A nice mix of people, a cozy atmosphere.
Unfortunately, the afternoon takes a different turn. An Irishman, a bit too drunk, disrupts the peace. He reacts sharply to an innocent question from Andy and eventually leaves. That is the Camino too not everything is harmony, but fortunately, it recovers quickly.
We set off together with Kelly, Paul, and Kasper. Andy and Marty are already on the way, we think. David is still a question mark. Since our hostel didn’t offer breakfast, we grabbed some food at a local bar always good to be prepared.
What follows is a magical morning. We walk in good company and enjoy a sunrise that makes us quiet. We ask another pilgrim to take a photo of us together. This photo is so precious to me; I radiate in this moment.
Until after five kilometers I realize something is wrong: the key to our room… is still in my pocket. With the nice keychain we found so special yesterday. Seven days without a key, and now this! I’m annoyed but can’t change it anymore.
Along the way, we pass trees full of ribbons and small towers of stones. My mind is on the key until we stop in Viana. There we decide to hand it over to the luggage carrier. Problem hopefully solved.
In Viana, David joins us. Fun! The last five kilometers I walk alone. My head and body crave silence. Just before Logroño, I see a sign with ‘Logroño’ standing in a small pond. I take off my shoes and walk through the water that’s allowed here and continue on slippers, even though I hate when my shoes dangle from my backpack.
That night’s accommodation is basic: thin mattresses, bunk beds, blankets hanging over the edges a real pilgrim’s place. But this also belongs to the experience. In the afternoon, we say goodbye to Andy. He goes back to his family. Marty keeps walking. The farewell hits me hard; tears come naturally. A preview of our own departure, I realize.
In the evening, we go into town. A postcard home, some tapas, laughter with the group. It gets late, but it’s so worth it.
Sunday. Up early. There are 31 kilometers on the schedule, but I feel in every way that’s too much for today. The heat, the sweat, and some chafing on my back and butt make me cautious. Still, I want to walk as much as possible with the group; we only have one day left together.
I decide to stop in Ventosa and take a taxi from there to Nájera. I tell the group in Ventosa; I don’t want to hold them back.
Along the way, at Navarrete, we see the large black bull towering above the landscape early on. As we pass it, the sun is just rising. The image of the bull with the rising sun behind it is magical a photo that could easily be in a travel guide (I think).
Navarrete turns out deserted due to Sunday. Luckily, we find a hotel where we just manage to eat something. In Ventosa, we enjoy a smoothie and toast. I stay behind and arrange a taxi. An Irishman, James, shares the ride. He is looking for other shoes because of foot problems. In Nájera, we have coffee together, but I feel a bit uneasy around him. Fortunately, other pilgrims soon join us.
My sister calls: they’re nearby. I already look for a hostel and find one. Dirt cheap, but the shower is… special. With a shower curtain I don’t want to look what’s behind it.
After an afternoon nap, we look for food. Not easy on a Sunday. Eventually, we end up at a Chinese restaurant next to our hostel. And that tastes good too. On the Camino, you learn to be content with what you get.
The night was fine, but my body protests softly this morning. Everything feels a bit stiff. My eyes are small, luckily it’s still dark; no one sees it. I start slowly. Kasper has chosen his own route today, but David waits for us and joins again with his familiar smile.
In Azofra, we stop for coffee and a croissant. My energy slowly returns. The landscape becomes wide and hilly. The climb to Cirueña is tough, and above awaits a long lunch. While my sister and Kelly giggle sharing stories about blisters and shoes, I quietly sip my coffee. My body seems to be in shutdown mode, as if after ten days it says: “Isn’t it time for a rest day, young lady?”
We continue through vast fields with rolling hills. One last steep climb, then a slow descent toward Santo Domingo de la Calzada. Our last pilgrim night begins. In the city hostel, there’s no choice you get assigned a bed number. Luckily, we all sleep near each other. We hear rumors that one of the women in the room snores loudly. Hopefully, it won’t be too bad this last night.
In the afternoon, we visit the church where the famous story of the chickens lives. We look for them and finally find them in a cage above a door. The myth is more beautiful than the scene itself, but it belongs.
In the evening, we eat pizza together. An older Belgian man joins us a special man. He tells us he met his wife on the Camino and that he wanted to walk this route one more time. His story touches us. That evening, we burst out laughing during a game of Truth or Dare. Pilgrim David chose a different place to sleep but promises to see us off tomorrow.
When the lights go out, I notice sleep won’t come. I toss and turn, feeling a restlessness I can’t quite place. The end is getting closer. I decide to get up and go to the common room. Kelly is already there, awake too. We start a conversation, open and personal. Soon my sister joins us. We get coffee from the machine and chat a little more. Finally, we quietly return to our beds, hoping for some sleep.
The morning is here. We say goodbye to Kelly, Paul, Kasper, and David. Tears flow. They continue their way, their story. For us, the Camino ends today.
Just before we want to leave, I see a woman standing in panic. Someone has taken her walking poles. She looks lost, unsure what to do. Without much thought, I give her mine my companions that have supported me all those kilometers. They weren’t expensive, and I’ll buy new ones when I’m home. Her gratitude is genuine. She kisses me, takes the poles, and continues on her path. I sincerely hope she reaches her destination.
Shortly after, we get a message from Marty. He is coincidentally also in Santo Domingo looking for new walking poles. Coincidence? Or just a beautiful moment? We meet, have breakfast together, and write something on the cloth he carries on his backpack. The words come straight from my heart. I swallow hard, become emotional. It feels like a fitting, warm farewell.
Then it’s time. Time to leave for Madrid. Time to let go of this Camino.
This was my Camino of 2022. A journey full of steps, stories, encounters, and memories. I already look forward to the next: the Camino of 2023. New people, different villages, unknown cities, and the vast Meseta waiting for me.
Our Photos
We take photos with our iPhone, mirrorless camera, or compact camera. We don’t edit our experience photos with colors or filters; all the colors you see are exactly as we observed them.
A Walking Pin
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Other Hikes
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