9 days, 240 km – The Camino de Invierno (Did we really do this?)

From Sue De Cesare.

When I first decided to walk the Camino de Invierno, I thought it would simply be a physical challenge, and of course, it most definitely is that, but what I didn’t expect was how emotional, humbling, and transformative the journey would be.  Choosing this lesser-known route felt symbolic: a journey off the beaten path, much like the path many people take when navigating cancer — looking for hope, support, and alternatives when the mainstream can feel limiting.  Since returning to work this week, I am reminded of just why I chose to do this walk.  I have spoken to people who have been let down by the system, who are brave, determined and resilient – those who are taking their own steps to find out what is right for them.  These people are my heroes.

So, Day 1, I was nervous, can I really do this? What if my body gives up before my spirit does? But as the first few kilometres passed, I began to settle into my own rhythm, one foot in front of the other, breathing in the cold morning air (not always welcoming) and that strange combination of excitement and peace that only comes when you’ve committed to doing something this big.

The Invierno is quieter, more remote than the other routes and beautiful with winding roads through green valleys, vineyards and mountain passes, crossing Roman bridges and villages untouched by time.  More about the Romans later.  Yet in places we found darkness, where the fires in Galicia have destroyed forests and seeing this first hand was shocking. It reminded me of how fragile our world and life can be.  But then I could see green shoots already starting to pop up – a reminder of just how resilient the earth is and with this great hope that this scorched earth will be green again once more.

Each day was a challenge, waking at 6.00 am and on the road in the dark by 7.00 am.  Facing steep climbs, long stretches of solitude, and the physical strain that comes with day after day of walking. There were days when the afternoon sun was burning and when my blisters became irritating and painful and when 30 km felt like 300. Thankfully Dr Foot Doctor (aka Robin) found the perfect solution for my blisters so calm was reinstated. There’s a magic in pushing through the difficult moments a reminder of why; of those people who are facing a much harder journey than mine and why we needed to reach our fundraising target.

Every day we received encouraging emails, texts and messages from donors – we stopped and cheered and at some points just when we were all struggling these messages helped lift us out of the pain of sore legs and fatigue to take that next step forward to get us to the end of another day. Every message of support and every donation felt like a friend on the road. To everyone single person who donated, encouraged us, or followed our journey — thank you. Your support made this pilgrimage more than a walk; it became a movement of compassion and hope.

When we reached the Cathedral of Santiago, barefoot, it felt unbelievable that we were there – that we had done it, finished the Camino.  It’s strange and too difficult to put into words but there was a serenity in finishing and a quietness even though we were surrounded by crowds of people.  In that quiet moment, I felt hopeful for every person with cancer; that they will get the support they need and that we would reach our target ensuring this help will continue to be available to them.

Just a few things I learnt from the Camino

• You don’t have to rush – you will reach your destination at the pace you need to go.
• Kindness is universal – a smile from a farmer in a remote village in the mountains or a simple ‘Buen Camino’ from strangers along the way can lift your soul.
• You are stronger than you think.
• Dogs barking are just saying hello (not sure my fellow walkers knew this).

Whilst the Romans are renowned for their road building, we didn’t really appreciate some of the ones we had to climb up!