The Camino Death March

The concept of this topic came from Rick, so I’ve put some thoughts around it—-it seems appropriate.

The funny thing about preparing for the Camiño is that you look online—scouring the social media pages for advice—looking for that golden nugget that will confirm what you are trying to convince yourself of (this is going to be fun!) is the right thing to commit to.

Everyone talks about their Camino experience like it’s a peaceful spiritual awakening.
All of the photos posted are of smiling pilgrims standing in bright sunshine with their backpacks and coffee, looking like they have indeed accomplished their goal of finding inner peace somewhere between Porto and Santiago de Compostela. And on the road you see young fit pilgrims running the path downhill (ohhhh to be young again)…and people with their small children walking the path.

What you realize is that those posting have avoided some of the reality which happens around Day 6—-when the Death March begins. The “transformational journey” starts feeling less like a pilgrimage and more like a hostage situation created by bad decisions made from looking at the internet—-which is NEVER wrong.

At some point, every Camiño group becomes a traveling support group for pilgrims whose body has decided to revolt. 

By then, if you watch people on the trail—nobody walks normally anymore.
Pilgrims develop what I have read about—the Pilgrim Shuffle.

• knees hurting
• hips making their presence known,
• shoulders permanently hunched over from the backpack,
• and everyone making noises every time they sit down or stand up.

Optimism fades.

Before the trip:
“We’re going to disconnect from the world and reconnect with ourselves.”

During the trip:
“If I see one more hill, I’m looking for an UBER.” 

Every morning begins the same way:

• Someone says, “I actually slept pretty well.”
• Someone talks about how many blisters they have.
• Someone insists today’s route is “mostly flat,” which becomes the greatest untruth of the entire journey.

And despite all the complaining…
something magical happens.

You start laughing more, because suffering shared at 13 miles a day needs comedy.

We wake up and begin walking again each day with a positive attitude. It’s a voluntary walk across 2 countries and somewhere along the way we have made pain meds and ibuprofen a new food group.

Somewhere between exhaustion, laughter, bad weather, sore muscles, and another uphill climb (you were definitely told did not exist)…you realize the “death march” becomes the cherished memory you laugh about forever.