“Peeing in a downhill squat” – Impressions of the Camino Primitivo

“How is it with you with pain?” asks Andrea, a young Italian, on the evening before the queen stage via the Hospitalesroute – 25 km over the Galician mountains in the most inhospitable area.

And I say: “What the hell, we are all in pain. We don’t talk about it, it’s part of the deal.” And everyone smiles. Everyone knows what is meant. An example? My legs are so stiff that more than 90 degrees are not possible when squatting. But as I said – it’s part of the deal. It has lost importance.

Walk, eat, sleep, repeat. This is the mantra of the pilgrims on the Camino. For me, on a total of 304 kilometers from Oviedo to Santiago via the Camino Primitivo – the path over the mountains that is the least frequented and therefore the loneliest and also the wildest. That’s why I voted for it.

The days blur. In the morning you leave the hostel, still in the semi-darkness, and know: Today it’s 20, 25, sometimes 30 kilometers again.

On the third day, the head switches off. You walk mechanically and only hear the clacking of your poles on the asphalt. Sometimes the sun is shining, sometimes fog envelops you, sometimes the rain patters down for hours. It’s just you, your backpack – and the way. And a few fellow hikers like Andrea.

My biggest challenge was not walking or the pain, but the monotony. The Camino is not an adventure. Everything is perfectly signposted and organized. There are vending machines for water and snacks on the side of the road, so there’s really nothing left for you to take care of yourself.

You just have to walk. Enduring this monotony day after day. A lot on asphalt side roads, through sparsely populated or equally dilapidated villages, at night you slumber in bunk beds with smelly socks – all this makes you numb and empty. There is really nothing that challenges or distracts you mentally.

Then comes the highlight: the Hospitales route, 1,200 meters high, finally shows impassability, breathtaking nature, the loneliness of the mountains and the harshness of the elements. There are no vending machines up here, you have to carry everything yourself, there is little reception, so you are really on your own. The wind almost blows you over, it’s cold, the rain whips you in the face from the side and visibility is barely twenty meters.

But for me, for all of us, this very day is finally the moment when we feel like real pilgrims. That’s how it was centuries ago. Rough nature, no vending machines, no way out, deep humility, awe, trust. This purifies and gives an incredible feeling of strength. Anyone who manages the hospitals in the rain remembers deep down who he is and what he can do.

This exhilaration of the Hospitales crossing is topped by seven Italians who spoil us with pasta “à la Mamma” in the evening. They don’t know each other, but join forces to cook for us other twenty pelegrinos. A real Camino experience, so endearing and connecting – and one of the reasons why people love the Camino so much.

Or my Frenchman. He started in Geneva, over 2,000 kilometers in four months lie behind him. I have never met a more silent, humble and balanced person. He didn’t tell me what his reason was for setting off. But in Santiago he falls to his knees. I so feel for him.

And then I’m on the square in front of the cathedral myself. It’s quiet, no fanfare, no music. I think that’s wonderful, because it allows everyone to celebrate their arrival in their own way. Hundreds of tired and sweaty pilgrims from all over the world arrive there every day; from morning to evening there is activity on the square. Some cry, others sing, many lie in each other’s arms, pray, a couple kisses deeply. We greet each other with a smile, knowing without knowing each other. What unites us all is the fact that we have faced it and we have made it. Inside and out. This place belongs to us. We all come from somewhere, pause here for a while – and then go our ways again. And everyone has hundreds of stories to tell when they get home.

Personally, I take away three very different and fulfilling experiences: On the endless stages over asphalt and through the villages, I felt: We convey peace. Anyone who walks here does it with good intentions. That was a truly beautiful feeling. I found my true self again up there on the harsh Hospitalesroute. And on the square in front of the cathedral, I had the feeling that finishing the camino is a bond that unites us. Forever.

PS: Here comes a THANK YOU VIDEO for everyone who supported me! You were great!

This post is also available in: German