The gusty winds blindsided us, rain ponchos rudely slapping our faces. Three Indian women had embarked on the El Camino de Santiago, setting off from Baiona to Santiago de Compostela, tracing the Portuguese Coastal Camino through Spain. The sea churned like a stormy cauldron, the rain stung our faces, and we — three 50-somethings — mulled with consternation as the storm loomed over this coveted bucket list trail.
With silent prayers and chattering teeth, shoes squelching and soaked to the bone, we trudged on, disempowered by the truth: no gear keeps the rain in Spain away. Clearly, it doesn’t fall only on the plain.
El Camino, this centuries-old pilgrimage across Europe to the city built for Saint James’ relics, unites all routes — each ending at his alleged resting place. For many, it’s spiritual or transformative. For us, it was simplicity of slow travel and spiritual mullings — no buses to miss, no planes to catch. Just one foot after the other, six towns in seven days through stunning Galicia.
We’d chosen the Portuguese Coastal Route — apprehensively — in April, for its balance of weather. Starting in Baiona, we passed through Vigo, Redondela, Pontevedra, Caldas de Reis, and Padrón, before arriving at the magnificent Santiago de Compostela Cathedral. The trail healed us — spiritually, physically, mentally.
Ashita Sawhney, a design professor from the US; Deepika Quintas, a Swedish potter; and I, planned this journey a year in advance. We trained daily with knapsacks, gathered what we thought was rainproof gear (it wasn’t), and booked our luggage transfers with Natural Adventures, which also arranged bed and breakfast.
Deepika and I began as tourists in Lisbon, meandered through Fátima, Porto, and Braga, and reached Baiona with a few fellow pilgrims—delivered via a cabbie whose Fernando Alonso-style driving forced a cruel choice: EUR 30 for slow, EUR 50 for fast. We foolishly chose fast. Never again.
Ashita joined us in Baiona, a serene fishing village kissed by yachts and watched over by Monterreal Castle. We stood at the Paseo Alfonso IX, marvelling at the replica of La Pinta, Columbus’s ship. Over a Galician dinner of scallops and fresh fish at Casa Rita, we toasted our adventure with Spanish coffee. Our hotel, Bahia Bayona, opened onto a breathtaking bay.
By morning, we were sleepless but eager. Bags were packed and left for the Correo (luggage transfer), breakfast inhaled, and off we went — thunder, lightning, and rain becoming our early companions. Twenty-three kilometres later, we squelched into Hotel Silken Vigo, soaked but strangely exhilarated.
We marvelled at pilgrims of the old days who walked for months—with no gear, gadgets, or signs. Today, at least, we had our Camino passports swinging around our necks and the scallop shell, the ancient symbol of St James, pinned to our bags and the yellow arrow.
Each pilgrim walks – for spirituality, fitness, grief, or the thrill of testing one’s meagre physical limits. We passed people clutching rosaries, chanting novenas, walking dogs, carrying babies—each with a life story. The Camino began to clear many cobwebs. Eckhart Tolle’s voice echoed: “Surrender becomes easier when you realise the fleeting nature of all experiences.”
The sea had turned an angry grey. Restaurants were shuttered; we found just one café, where we warmed our icy hands on steamy coffee cups, devoured cold tapas. By afternoon, the sun broke through—our mood, like our backpacks, lightened.
We doodled our way down the trail—sometimes like headless chickens. Google Maps failed us (as did the yellow arrows). Camino rules: dirt paths over asphalt. In Vigo, arrows were nearly invisible. We followed cryptic maps, prayed, resolved, and finally stumbled back on track.
We met dozens along the way: a sprightly German-Swiss with outrageous socks, a pious Austrian, a Colombian girl walking in memory of her fiancé, two German girls on a slow travel mission. The Camino, unknowingly, started answering some questions while raising others.
Santiago de Compostela was once a forest where a hermit, Pelayo, saw lights leading to what were believed to be St James’ relics. A city was built—Romanesque, Gothic, Renaissance, Baroque. Now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, its Galician cuisine—pulpo, navajas, scallops, and Tarta de Santiago—adds flavour to its legacy.
Ashita kept us fuelled with lotus seeds and nuts. Deepika snapped beautiful vistas. I simply walked. Some trails vanished, shells went missing, inclines steepened as our knees weakened. At Vigo, we dried our sneakers with newspaper, wandered into the Casco Vello and Park Motel del Castro. At a quaint café, we were met by a charming owner, at another, a rude server who disliked vegetarians (and possibly Indians).
We passed forgotten villages, bustling ports, and elders chatting in Spanish too fast. Between trees, hills, and streams, we spotted a pristine beach with a lighthouse. A violinist played as a frisky mutt danced. Shell collected, photography, sea-dipping—we lost time, and nearly our way. Lesson: destination first, rendezvous later.
Redondela was a tough search as our maps left a lot unsaid. The Buen Camino app is better! We stayed at Pension Rua Do Medio, its streetlights and lack of curtains offending my sleep-deprived senses.
A car-free utopia, Pontevedra’s cobbled streets led us past churches, spires, and estuaries. At San Francisco Church, we got our pilgrim stamps. We learned from a Venezuelan family that state vs. central disputes often delayed signage (of arrows and shells) — leaving us to follow anyone who looked vaguely Camino-esque.
This town of hot springs was divine. Past vineyards and horse stables, we spotted — miraculously — an ice cream van in a forest! Our feet yelped in pain, but the hot Roman thermal fountains at Caldas soothed them. At Cafeteria Termas, the owner proudly added our Indian flag to their board — we were the first Indians to visit, she said.
Pascal, our Swiss-German friend, appeared one evening fresh as ever. We asked how he beat us. Sheepishly, he admitted: he’d walked 15 km the wrong way… and Ubered back.
Padrón, home of the famed green peppers, offered ancient cemeteries, poetic heritage, and a horse who stole my apple. We stayed in the charming Pension Jardin, indulged in churros and chocolate, and learned of its literary legacy — Rosalía de Castro and Camilo José Cela.
Our final 22 km were upon us. We walked in reflective silence, until the cathedral spires called us from afar. Awe, pride, accomplishment and silent thanks. A girl from Romania, near collapse, was coaxed onward by my own burst of energy. Maria Mel, the Great Dane, of a Portuguese Camino-ite refused to budge having travelled months on foot. But we reached.
In front of the magnificent cathedral, we were still, embracing it all — we lit candles, sent prayers, claimed our Compostela certificates from the Pilgrim Office – satiated and at peace.
The journey was a triumph of resilience, strength, and humility. A walk through obstacles, lost in thought, we found meaning. Our feet might have stopped, but something far deeper kept us moving on.
Buen Camino. And onward — always — to the road less travelled.
Routes: The Camino has different routes and starting points from all over Europe – The French Way, English Way, Portuguese Coastal (which we did) Camino del Norte (Northern Way), Camino Primitivo, Via de la Plata (Seville to Santiago), Camino Finisterre, Camino de Invierno, and Camino Lebaniego.
Days: One can choose one’s start dependent on the days and towns one wants to walk - Camino Frances 780 km. Camino Portugues 238 km (from Porto) Camino del Norte 466 km. Each town is about 20-30 km apart, and you can get a package from Natural Adventures, Santiago Ways, etc that offer luggage transfer and bed and breakfast. Or you can use the postal service for luggage and stay at any Albergues (hostels) on your chosen route.
Preparation: Walking three hours a day atleast two months before will get your body ready for the route. You can also plan your walk with rest days if needed. The months of Feb to April are relatively cooler, summer can be tough and winter too.
Pilgrim's Passport: A document to collect stamps along the way.
For solo female travellers: Its safe, but be prudent.
Flights to any point of your chosen Camino from India are available. If not, there are trains, buses, and taxis available.
Cost: INR 2.5 lakh for the Camino.
