It was nine years ago today…on my 50th birthday…that I launched this blog with a post called Giving Up Greece or Why I Started This Blog. And I did it with a bang. Announcing my intent to quit my job, sell everything, buy an RV and travel for the foreseeable future. Today, my 59th birthday, the bang isn’t quite as big and dramatic but still significant. My next big thing…drum roll please…I’m going to walk the Camino de Santiago in 2026.

I’ve been thinking about and planning—off and on—since 2021 this next big adventure. In general, I’ve been obsessed with doing a long-distance hike ever since I read the book Wild when it was released in 2012. A side note: the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) remains on my bucket list. So, this adventure is a long time in the making.

For longtime blog readers, you may remember I even mentioned the Camino de Santiago once before. It was at the beginning of 2021. By then, I’d lost Solstice, the Supersize Dog. And, I knew Kitty, the Supersize Cat, wasn’t long for this world. I’d lose her by the end of that year.

The post I refer to answered the question, “What travel did I want to try that I couldn’t as a pet owner?” I wrote about international travel and about international volunteering. Tucked into the former: the Camino de Santiago.

What’s in a Name?

I still vividly remember sitting at my dining room table in Alaska one Saturday morning, coffee cup at my side, colored pencils and paper spread out in front of me. My mission that day was to name my new RV life adventure.

From the beginning, one thing was certain. I didn’t want the name to mention an RV or RV life. Even though I was changing my whole life to go RVing, I always knew—or hoped anyway—the change I was making was bigger than buying an RV. I wanted the name to outlast RV life if RV life turned out not to be forever. I wanted it to be a reflection of striving for more—a big life, a supersize life.

And after a few weeks, I came up with Downsize Living, Supersize Life. Downsizing was an early first step in living an RV life.

Downsize Living

I downsized to the Big White Van (who never took to her name, Violet—see last week’s post if you don’t know what I am referring to) and a 24’ travel trailer. I carried only the essentials. Downsizing took a couple of years and it was a massive, at times overwhelming, undertaking.

When I was done, it didn’t seem possible to downsize further. But walking the Camino de Santiago means downsizing to a backpack. Yep, everything I need for the journey must fit in a backpack. A backpack not too heavy as I intend to carry every step of the way.

I’ve heard others say there is something incredible about the experience of realizing how full life can be when your day-to-day existence boils down, simply, to a backpack and a good pair of shoes.

What is the Camino de Santiago?

In short, the Camino de Santiago is an ancient pilgrimage the faithful walked to Santiago de Compostela, Spain, to visit the Cathedral de Santiago where the bones of St. James are believed to be held. Today, people walk for a plethora of reasons–religious, spiritual, physical or just because.

Pilgrims have walked The Way (translation: the camino) for more than twelve hundred years. Before modern transportation, pilgrims started from their front door. Today there are about 20 “main” established routes.

Map of Spain showing seven Camino routes.

This map shows the seven post popular Camino routes.

The most popular route is called the French Way with 50% of pilgrims walking it and, in 2026, I will number among them. It begins in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, France. You go over the Pyrenees (making Day 1 the most physically challenging day) and across the whole of northwestern Spain. In total it is 500 miles and takes an average 33 days to complete with pilgrims walking 15 miles a day.

Map of Spain showing the French Way Camino route.

Camino Frances or the French Way.

After receiving the compostela, a certificate written in Latin that certifies a person walked a minimum of 100 km, at the Pilgrim’s office in Santiago, some pilgrims continue to the coastal towns of either Muxia or Finisterre, or both. Finisterre translates to “the end of the world.” Back in the early days of the Camino, most believed the world to be flat. Thus making Finisterre, literally, the end of the world.

Walking to the End of the World

So, I am in the throes of planning, prepping and training to walk the French route.

The plan, as I write this, is to fly to Paris in mid-April and be a tourist for a couple of days (because if you are French and you’ve never been before, of course you must stop to look around) then take two trains down to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. I will stop at the Pilgrim’s Office to get the first stamp in my pilgrim’s passport. Pilgrims must get two stamps per day at various bars, churches and alburgues along the way to prove they walked. It is the document you present at the Pilgrim’s Office in Santiago to receive your compostela. The next day I will take my first official step on the Camino de Santiago.

My plan is to walk slower than average to truly experience everything along the way. I imagine getting to my alburgue (pilgrim hostel), showering, washing out my hiking clothes and then exploring the town. I want to take alternate routes which are often longer but lovelier. And, to assuage my fear of injury and bodily fatigue, I’m building in rest days.

For me, a day exploring Santiago and watching pilgrims rejoice as they reach the square in Santiago is a must. And from there, I’ll walk to Finisterre and finally to Muxia. In Muxia, depending on how long the rest of the journey takes, I’ll stop for a couple days to a week. Days of quiet reflection.

I plan, at this point anyway, to get myself to Madrid (a bus back to Santiago and then a train to Madrid) and find my way home again.

So, although the Camino de Santiago’s French Way is 500 miles, in the end my camino will be a 600-mile journey.

Graphic with a quote by Anais Nin that says, "Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage."

Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway

I remember the morning of my 50th birthday sitting at my computer feeling absolute terror to be public with my intent. I was nervous about having a blog when I knew nothing about websites or algorithms or optimization. And, I was nervous about RV life when I knew nothing about RVs, RV maintenance, traveling, adventuring. None of it.

But I told myself if other people figured it out, certainly I should be able to.

Today, I stand at the same point on a different journey and feel exactly the same way. Absolute terror. Fear I’m not fit enough to get up and over the Pyrenees or up the mountain to O’Cebreiro (steepest climb and second physically hardest day), not young enough to find fun in sleeping in alburgues with strangers, not spontaneous enough to undertake an adventure where each morning I do not know where I will lay my head at night, not confident enough to navigate mass transportation in two countries whose language I do not speak.

But, mostly, I fear failure. It’s hard to admit. But fear of failure is what keeps me up at night.

Nevertheless, on the day I turn 59, here I stand. Once again filled with fear but equally filled with the deep belief that I must do this. I must try. And if I fail—if my feet cannot carry me one million steps—I will return a little ashamed of myself but also, I hope, a little proud for the trying.

Here is the thing I take comfort in, the thing I repeat to myself. Over and over again. I did not know how to do a write a book, until I did it. I did not know how to live in an RV, until I did it. And, at the age of 1, I did not know how to walk, until I did it.

So, here I stand. I do not know how my body and mind and soul will walk 600 miles…until I do it.

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