- Time of past OR future Camino
- May 2023: Via Francigena, Lucca to Rome
I recently finished walking from Le Puy en Velay to Santiago de Compostela (August 21 to October 31). It was absolutely amazing ... and I'll probably be posting my thoughts and reflections a lot over the coming months. For now, I'll just focus on some practical advice for those planning a camino in 2018, and try to answer some of those questions that we see over and over. Sometimes my experiences and opinions match the majority opinion; sometimes they are going to be quite different.
Days 1 - 11: Le Puy to Conques. This alone would have been one of the more incredible experiences I've had. It was challenging, but not so hard that my body felt wrecked. It was non-stop beauty the whole way, and we passed through intact medieval villages, isolated farm settlements, the the Aubrac highlands. The people were friendly, the food incredible, and the weather was mostly perfect at the end of August. Mostly - there was a heat wave that passed over for a few days, and temperatures hit a brutal 36 celsius / 96 fahrenheit on the Aubrac.
Thoughts
All my pre-Camino anxiety melted away within the first hour of walking.
When people ask where to start, the answer for me is easy. Start in Le Puy. The only caveats I would add are:
- Because it is more rugged, it would be more challenging for those with knee or hip problems.
- You should also be comfortable being in an environment where the dominant language is French.
- You should be comfortable walking on your own, without a 'camino family' by your side. I met great people every night in the gîtes, and there was a genuine sense of community, but most people walk at their own pace. I didn't see any 'families' forming in the same way I did in Spain.
A lot of people do this section in nine or ten days. I am very glad that I started off slow; I didn't have my first 20 km-day until the fourth day of walking.
Days 11 - 22: Conques to Moissac (including the Vallée du Célé). Amazingly, this was even more beautiful than the first part. The crowds thinned out as we moved into September. This was the first big transition, as a lot of people ended their Camino for the season, while new people started walking. Most people took the direct route from Figeac to Cahors, skipping the Célé. There were sections where I only saw two or three people all day. And the food was ridiculous: I had confit du canard three nights one week! We started to joke that this should be renamed the chemin culinaire.
Days 23 - 30: Moissac to Aire sur l'Adour. More stunning landscapes. More historic towns. More great food. One of the nicer things about the Le Puy route is how intact the cultural regions are in France. Every couple days we'd enter a new valley with new food, new architecture, and new accents.
Days 31 - 37: Aire sur l'Adour to Saint Jean Pied de Port. On clear days you could see the wall of the Pyrenees, getting closer and closer every morning. This was, by far, the highlight of this section. The walking was much easier. There was less sense of history, as a lot of the area had been malaria-filled wetlands until recently. The Pays Basque were beautiful, though the trail followed roads more than at any point so far. I missed the meandering trails of the earlier stages. This was also the stage where we saw the first large groups; this made finding accommodation tricky for the first time since the first couple days.
Thoughts
I was worried that I'd be physically, mentally, and emotionally spent by the time I reached Saint Jean. Not even close. I had absolutely zero desire to stop walking. I was ready for a change from the Le Puy route, but not even close to being ready for it to end.
I wouldn't skip anything, but ... if you were absolutely short on time then this would be the place to cut out some days.
There were some variations in this section. In theory you can connect from the Via Podiensis to Saint Palais to the Camino del Norte. However, I've since heard that this section isn't well marked. I met others who went south to Lourdes, and from there connected to the Arles route and then crossed the Pyrenees at Somport. I don't know the exact route they took, or at what point they left the Le Puy route. I can tell you that they loved it, though!
*** I'd strongly recommend that those only walking the Francés give some serious thought to starting in one of the Pays Basque towns like Navarrenx. This will give you three days to warm up your body before the big climb. More importantly, it will give you three days to think about all the things in your backpack that you want to ditch; you'll have a lighter pack for the big climb.
*** Saint Jean is almost completely geared towards people starting their Camino, not ending. I don't know if I would have felt a sense of closure if I ended here. For those only walking the Le Puy route, I'd recommend crossing the Pyrenees and ending in Roncesvalles, or even Pamplona. It's only a few more days!
Day 38 - 40: Saint Jean to Larrasoaña. Even after five weeks of walking the crossing from Saint Jean to Roncesvalles was a hard day! The main difference I noticed is that, at this point, I knew my own pace. I knew that I could take lots of breaks, and relax when I wanted, and that I would still get to Roncesvalles in time. So even though it was physically hard, I think it was much less mentally stressful for me than for the new walkers.
And it was stunningly beautiful. We lucked out with the weather. I crossed the pass on September 28, and it was a warm day with blue skies. There was a lot of wind towards the top, but even that just helped to keep us cool
I liked the energy of all the new people on the trail, I liked being able to speak English again, and I loved the complete change in scenery as we passed into Spain. For the first two days I loved Francés.
That would end soon. For the record (spoiler alert), I'm glad I walked it and did love it later, but it was a rough transition.
Days 41-47: Larrasoaña to Nájera. In Le Puy I noticed that some camino veterans (no one on this forum!) were having trouble adjusting to the culture on the Via Podiensis. They were trying to walk the CF in France, rather than accepting it on it's own terms. I told myself that I wouldn't do the same thing, that I would accept the CF for what it was and not try to walk the Via Podiensis in Spain. And yet that's exactly what I did.
Before I start grumbling, there were things I liked right off the bat. I loved the social vibe, and all the people I met while walking. The coffee was better. I liked that there were more supply stops along the way, and that I didn't need to carry extra kilos of food. I never got tired of empanadas and the tortillas, and miss them now that I'm home.
But something was off, and the more I walked the more I felt that something was broken. Part of it was the route itself: there were too many roads for my taste, and too many suburbs and industrial areas. I missed walking in nature, and for the first time started walking with my headphones on to drown out the sound of the trucks and cars. The harvest had just happened, so we didn't even have the vegetation to buffer us from the nearby autoroutes. And, surprisingly, towns like Pamplona and Logroño took me out of the spirit of camino. I usually love urban areas, and did not see this coming.
And some of it, I think, was a result of having so may pilgrims pass through this past summer. A lot of the locals I interacted with seemed burned out, as if they were just over the whole thing. And most gravely, the connection between hospitalero and pilgrim seemed broken. In France the patrons of the gîtes were in an integral part of the community. You'd spend a half hour drinking menthe à l'eau with them in the kitchen before you checked in; in half the gîtes you ate at the same table as the patron and his or her family; and after dinner you'd struggle to keep your eyes open while everyone drank herbal tea (or armagnac if you were lucky) and gossiped into the night.
In contrast, a common hospitalero welcome in La Rioja and Navarre was, in it's entirety, "Hola. Credencial? 10 Euro. Your room is upstairs." The donativos and municipal albergues had wonderful volunteers, but they often seemed so overwhelmed taking care of pilgrims' needs that they didn't have time to just relax and drink tea with us.
I didn't realize how much the hospitaleros were part of the 'camino family' until I had lost them. And while I might grumble about the roads, or the pilgrims' meals, or any of a number of things, this ... this feels like a critical issue.
For about a week I felt like I was on the 'camino express,' a pre-packaged commodified experience, and I was having a hard time fighting my way out of it.
I did not want to end my Camino in any way shape or form. I just wanted a different one, and made plans to jump on to another route once I hit Burgos. I wasn't alone; I know of at least four groups that went north to Santander and the Norte, or just bussed ahead to Sarria.
Days 48-57: Nájera to Sahagún. I slowly started to warm to the Frances after the first week. The volunteers at the albergue in Grañón worked hard to create a community, which was nice antidote to the sometime insular 'camino families' that had formed. The bar owner in Villambístia was the first hospitalero in Spain to agree to only speak to me in Spanish (no one else had the time or the patience), and cooked us a great homemade meal. In Burgos I stayed at a hostal across the river, and ate at a non-pilgrim bar ... and felt more like a pilgrim than in any of the pilgrim-oriented places.
And then I entered the meseta, and it was beautiful. This was the only time where I'd actually get up and walk before the sun was up, just to be able to watch the colors change as the day progressed.
There was still occasional weirdness, to be sure. I thought one hospitalero was mute, as he didn't even respond to 'buenas dias' or 'hola.' He stamped our credencials in total silence. Turns out he could speak fine, he was just rude. Three times one night I had people break off a conversation, and leave me alone to go join their own camino families. That would have given me a complex, except that it never happened before or after.
I was short on time, so took an evening train from Sahagún to León. Even though I liked the meseta, I have no regrets about skipping the last two stages.
Days 58-72: León to Santiago. I enjoyed the previous section, but it wasn't until this final two weeks that I really felt the 'camino spirit' that others talk about. The camino-families had broken up and reformed and broken up again, people were much more relaxed and less stressed about trying to stick to the official Brierly stages, and I felt that there was a much stronger sense of overall community among everyone who was on the path. It helped that there were now far fewer people walking. We never had crowds or a bed race, even after Sarrià. This stretch was also the prettiest part of the Spanish camino, by far, and it was nice to be back in the hills again.
*** I had timed the walk to end just before All Saints' Day, Dia de todos los Santos. The vast majority of people I'd met from SJPP on were also trying to arrive on October 31 or November 1. This turned out to be an excellent time to end. So many of us had the same goal that it felt like a genuine reunion in Santiago of all the people (or most of them) I had met over the past month. I'm not sure if I would have had the same experience if I had arrived on a random Monday. If you're walking in the fall, I'd highly recommend trying to end at the same time!
Thoughts
I wasn't ready to end when I reached Saint Jean, but I was done after the mass on November 1 in Santiago. Not in a bad way, but more that I had a feeling of closure, of completeness. I really didn't feel the need to continue to Fisterra. At least, not this round! In part, I think it was because I had already had lots of quiet time on the trail in France. I got the sense that the final, more quiet, walk to the coast was far more important to those that had started in Saint Jean and had always been surrounded by other pilgrims.
Despite all my grumbling above, Camino Francés is the iconic camino. It's the one common reference point most of us have. I'd still recommend it as a first camino, although I doubt I would ever walk it again myself.
I am, however, already looking at future caminos along other routes ...
Advice on Planning
Online you would think that everyone is winging it on the Camino Francés, and is just taking each day is it comes without planning ahead. Yeah. In my experience 95% of the people followed the stages in their guidebook. There are far fewer free spirits than you’d think. There were amazingly few of us who stayed some of the non-Brierly stops. Some nights in Galicia there were only between three and five of us in town.
I'm a fan of planning. I think it makes the way easier, especially when it comes to hills. I'd generally try to time it so that I spent the night at the bottom of a big hill, and then climb it in the morning when I was fresh and strong. I guarantee you that I suffered less than the people who faced a long climb after a long day of walking!
I had an excel spreadsheet with stages marked out. I ended up not following it, but it was nice to have benchmarks. I would at least know when I was ahead or behind my estimated schedule, and this helped a lot.
I stayed in a few hostals along the way, and it was nice to have a private room and bathroom once in awhile. I didn't even think about casa rurales, but I think a few of those would have been a wonderful treat.
********************
Myth Busting
The Le Puy route is harder than the Francés. Yes and no. Physically it is much harder. It's a real trail, and can be rugged. It seems to constantly be going either up or down. My muscles were often sore at the end of the day. This was compensated for by the sheer beauty of the route, and the genuine warmth we felt at the gites at the end of the day. Muscles can recover, though, and get stronger. I found a lot of the road walking in Spain to be more of a wear on my body over the long term, especially on the feet and joints. These don't recover in the same way that muscles do. On some days in Spain the cars, suburbs, dusty fields, and indifferent hospitaleros were much more mentally draining.
The Le Puy route is more expensive than the Francés. Again, yes and no. France doesn't have the budget options that Spain does. It will cost more, definitely. However, I found that Le Puy was far more value per euro. 35 euro gets a single bed, a five course meal fresh from the farm, and a breakfast with fresh bread and homemade jams. I have no idea what that would cost in Spain; I think you'd have to stay in the more expensive casa rurales to got the same experience.
The Le Puy route is less spiritual than the Francés. No way. It's different, to be sure. It's more personal; I don't ever recall discussing spirituality or religion at the table in France. But every chapel along the way is unlocked, and a lot of pilgrims would stop at each one to reflect and pray. It's a quieter spirituality than you find in Spain.
The Francés is more social than the Le Puy route. Sort of. There were more nights of cooking together and drinking, and a lot more people forming tight groups and friendships. That was fun. But this can be isolating, too. In France I never ate alone; everyone always ate at the same table. In Spain there wasn't a bed race, but there was definitely a kitchen race, and if you arrived late (I like walking in the late afternoons) you will arrive after the camino-families have formed their dinner plans. I ate alone close to 1/4 of the nights.
********************
For those who don't have the time to walk for a month or more, I think that ten to twelve days would still make for an amazing experience. For myself, I don't think anything less would have felt 'complete.' A week just wouldn't have been long enough to feel fully immersed. With that, my recommendations for the best 'short caminos' would be:
- Le Puy to Conques.
- León or Astorga to Santiago.
- Conques to Moissac, via the Vallée du Célé. So pretty. So amazingly pretty.
- Cahors to Aire sur l'Adour
The first three begin and end in a historically important cathedral town, which offer a nice framework for a camino.
********************
More posts to come!
Days 1 - 11: Le Puy to Conques. This alone would have been one of the more incredible experiences I've had. It was challenging, but not so hard that my body felt wrecked. It was non-stop beauty the whole way, and we passed through intact medieval villages, isolated farm settlements, the the Aubrac highlands. The people were friendly, the food incredible, and the weather was mostly perfect at the end of August. Mostly - there was a heat wave that passed over for a few days, and temperatures hit a brutal 36 celsius / 96 fahrenheit on the Aubrac.
Thoughts
All my pre-Camino anxiety melted away within the first hour of walking.
When people ask where to start, the answer for me is easy. Start in Le Puy. The only caveats I would add are:
- Because it is more rugged, it would be more challenging for those with knee or hip problems.
- You should also be comfortable being in an environment where the dominant language is French.
- You should be comfortable walking on your own, without a 'camino family' by your side. I met great people every night in the gîtes, and there was a genuine sense of community, but most people walk at their own pace. I didn't see any 'families' forming in the same way I did in Spain.
A lot of people do this section in nine or ten days. I am very glad that I started off slow; I didn't have my first 20 km-day until the fourth day of walking.
Days 11 - 22: Conques to Moissac (including the Vallée du Célé). Amazingly, this was even more beautiful than the first part. The crowds thinned out as we moved into September. This was the first big transition, as a lot of people ended their Camino for the season, while new people started walking. Most people took the direct route from Figeac to Cahors, skipping the Célé. There were sections where I only saw two or three people all day. And the food was ridiculous: I had confit du canard three nights one week! We started to joke that this should be renamed the chemin culinaire.
Days 23 - 30: Moissac to Aire sur l'Adour. More stunning landscapes. More historic towns. More great food. One of the nicer things about the Le Puy route is how intact the cultural regions are in France. Every couple days we'd enter a new valley with new food, new architecture, and new accents.
Days 31 - 37: Aire sur l'Adour to Saint Jean Pied de Port. On clear days you could see the wall of the Pyrenees, getting closer and closer every morning. This was, by far, the highlight of this section. The walking was much easier. There was less sense of history, as a lot of the area had been malaria-filled wetlands until recently. The Pays Basque were beautiful, though the trail followed roads more than at any point so far. I missed the meandering trails of the earlier stages. This was also the stage where we saw the first large groups; this made finding accommodation tricky for the first time since the first couple days.
Thoughts
I was worried that I'd be physically, mentally, and emotionally spent by the time I reached Saint Jean. Not even close. I had absolutely zero desire to stop walking. I was ready for a change from the Le Puy route, but not even close to being ready for it to end.
I wouldn't skip anything, but ... if you were absolutely short on time then this would be the place to cut out some days.
There were some variations in this section. In theory you can connect from the Via Podiensis to Saint Palais to the Camino del Norte. However, I've since heard that this section isn't well marked. I met others who went south to Lourdes, and from there connected to the Arles route and then crossed the Pyrenees at Somport. I don't know the exact route they took, or at what point they left the Le Puy route. I can tell you that they loved it, though!
*** I'd strongly recommend that those only walking the Francés give some serious thought to starting in one of the Pays Basque towns like Navarrenx. This will give you three days to warm up your body before the big climb. More importantly, it will give you three days to think about all the things in your backpack that you want to ditch; you'll have a lighter pack for the big climb.
*** Saint Jean is almost completely geared towards people starting their Camino, not ending. I don't know if I would have felt a sense of closure if I ended here. For those only walking the Le Puy route, I'd recommend crossing the Pyrenees and ending in Roncesvalles, or even Pamplona. It's only a few more days!
Day 38 - 40: Saint Jean to Larrasoaña. Even after five weeks of walking the crossing from Saint Jean to Roncesvalles was a hard day! The main difference I noticed is that, at this point, I knew my own pace. I knew that I could take lots of breaks, and relax when I wanted, and that I would still get to Roncesvalles in time. So even though it was physically hard, I think it was much less mentally stressful for me than for the new walkers.
And it was stunningly beautiful. We lucked out with the weather. I crossed the pass on September 28, and it was a warm day with blue skies. There was a lot of wind towards the top, but even that just helped to keep us cool
I liked the energy of all the new people on the trail, I liked being able to speak English again, and I loved the complete change in scenery as we passed into Spain. For the first two days I loved Francés.
That would end soon. For the record (spoiler alert), I'm glad I walked it and did love it later, but it was a rough transition.
Days 41-47: Larrasoaña to Nájera. In Le Puy I noticed that some camino veterans (no one on this forum!) were having trouble adjusting to the culture on the Via Podiensis. They were trying to walk the CF in France, rather than accepting it on it's own terms. I told myself that I wouldn't do the same thing, that I would accept the CF for what it was and not try to walk the Via Podiensis in Spain. And yet that's exactly what I did.
Before I start grumbling, there were things I liked right off the bat. I loved the social vibe, and all the people I met while walking. The coffee was better. I liked that there were more supply stops along the way, and that I didn't need to carry extra kilos of food. I never got tired of empanadas and the tortillas, and miss them now that I'm home.
But something was off, and the more I walked the more I felt that something was broken. Part of it was the route itself: there were too many roads for my taste, and too many suburbs and industrial areas. I missed walking in nature, and for the first time started walking with my headphones on to drown out the sound of the trucks and cars. The harvest had just happened, so we didn't even have the vegetation to buffer us from the nearby autoroutes. And, surprisingly, towns like Pamplona and Logroño took me out of the spirit of camino. I usually love urban areas, and did not see this coming.
And some of it, I think, was a result of having so may pilgrims pass through this past summer. A lot of the locals I interacted with seemed burned out, as if they were just over the whole thing. And most gravely, the connection between hospitalero and pilgrim seemed broken. In France the patrons of the gîtes were in an integral part of the community. You'd spend a half hour drinking menthe à l'eau with them in the kitchen before you checked in; in half the gîtes you ate at the same table as the patron and his or her family; and after dinner you'd struggle to keep your eyes open while everyone drank herbal tea (or armagnac if you were lucky) and gossiped into the night.
In contrast, a common hospitalero welcome in La Rioja and Navarre was, in it's entirety, "Hola. Credencial? 10 Euro. Your room is upstairs." The donativos and municipal albergues had wonderful volunteers, but they often seemed so overwhelmed taking care of pilgrims' needs that they didn't have time to just relax and drink tea with us.
I didn't realize how much the hospitaleros were part of the 'camino family' until I had lost them. And while I might grumble about the roads, or the pilgrims' meals, or any of a number of things, this ... this feels like a critical issue.
For about a week I felt like I was on the 'camino express,' a pre-packaged commodified experience, and I was having a hard time fighting my way out of it.
I did not want to end my Camino in any way shape or form. I just wanted a different one, and made plans to jump on to another route once I hit Burgos. I wasn't alone; I know of at least four groups that went north to Santander and the Norte, or just bussed ahead to Sarria.
Days 48-57: Nájera to Sahagún. I slowly started to warm to the Frances after the first week. The volunteers at the albergue in Grañón worked hard to create a community, which was nice antidote to the sometime insular 'camino families' that had formed. The bar owner in Villambístia was the first hospitalero in Spain to agree to only speak to me in Spanish (no one else had the time or the patience), and cooked us a great homemade meal. In Burgos I stayed at a hostal across the river, and ate at a non-pilgrim bar ... and felt more like a pilgrim than in any of the pilgrim-oriented places.
And then I entered the meseta, and it was beautiful. This was the only time where I'd actually get up and walk before the sun was up, just to be able to watch the colors change as the day progressed.
There was still occasional weirdness, to be sure. I thought one hospitalero was mute, as he didn't even respond to 'buenas dias' or 'hola.' He stamped our credencials in total silence. Turns out he could speak fine, he was just rude. Three times one night I had people break off a conversation, and leave me alone to go join their own camino families. That would have given me a complex, except that it never happened before or after.
I was short on time, so took an evening train from Sahagún to León. Even though I liked the meseta, I have no regrets about skipping the last two stages.
Days 58-72: León to Santiago. I enjoyed the previous section, but it wasn't until this final two weeks that I really felt the 'camino spirit' that others talk about. The camino-families had broken up and reformed and broken up again, people were much more relaxed and less stressed about trying to stick to the official Brierly stages, and I felt that there was a much stronger sense of overall community among everyone who was on the path. It helped that there were now far fewer people walking. We never had crowds or a bed race, even after Sarrià. This stretch was also the prettiest part of the Spanish camino, by far, and it was nice to be back in the hills again.
*** I had timed the walk to end just before All Saints' Day, Dia de todos los Santos. The vast majority of people I'd met from SJPP on were also trying to arrive on October 31 or November 1. This turned out to be an excellent time to end. So many of us had the same goal that it felt like a genuine reunion in Santiago of all the people (or most of them) I had met over the past month. I'm not sure if I would have had the same experience if I had arrived on a random Monday. If you're walking in the fall, I'd highly recommend trying to end at the same time!
Thoughts
I wasn't ready to end when I reached Saint Jean, but I was done after the mass on November 1 in Santiago. Not in a bad way, but more that I had a feeling of closure, of completeness. I really didn't feel the need to continue to Fisterra. At least, not this round! In part, I think it was because I had already had lots of quiet time on the trail in France. I got the sense that the final, more quiet, walk to the coast was far more important to those that had started in Saint Jean and had always been surrounded by other pilgrims.
Despite all my grumbling above, Camino Francés is the iconic camino. It's the one common reference point most of us have. I'd still recommend it as a first camino, although I doubt I would ever walk it again myself.
I am, however, already looking at future caminos along other routes ...
Advice on Planning
Online you would think that everyone is winging it on the Camino Francés, and is just taking each day is it comes without planning ahead. Yeah. In my experience 95% of the people followed the stages in their guidebook. There are far fewer free spirits than you’d think. There were amazingly few of us who stayed some of the non-Brierly stops. Some nights in Galicia there were only between three and five of us in town.
I'm a fan of planning. I think it makes the way easier, especially when it comes to hills. I'd generally try to time it so that I spent the night at the bottom of a big hill, and then climb it in the morning when I was fresh and strong. I guarantee you that I suffered less than the people who faced a long climb after a long day of walking!
I had an excel spreadsheet with stages marked out. I ended up not following it, but it was nice to have benchmarks. I would at least know when I was ahead or behind my estimated schedule, and this helped a lot.
I stayed in a few hostals along the way, and it was nice to have a private room and bathroom once in awhile. I didn't even think about casa rurales, but I think a few of those would have been a wonderful treat.
********************
Myth Busting
The Le Puy route is harder than the Francés. Yes and no. Physically it is much harder. It's a real trail, and can be rugged. It seems to constantly be going either up or down. My muscles were often sore at the end of the day. This was compensated for by the sheer beauty of the route, and the genuine warmth we felt at the gites at the end of the day. Muscles can recover, though, and get stronger. I found a lot of the road walking in Spain to be more of a wear on my body over the long term, especially on the feet and joints. These don't recover in the same way that muscles do. On some days in Spain the cars, suburbs, dusty fields, and indifferent hospitaleros were much more mentally draining.
The Le Puy route is more expensive than the Francés. Again, yes and no. France doesn't have the budget options that Spain does. It will cost more, definitely. However, I found that Le Puy was far more value per euro. 35 euro gets a single bed, a five course meal fresh from the farm, and a breakfast with fresh bread and homemade jams. I have no idea what that would cost in Spain; I think you'd have to stay in the more expensive casa rurales to got the same experience.
The Le Puy route is less spiritual than the Francés. No way. It's different, to be sure. It's more personal; I don't ever recall discussing spirituality or religion at the table in France. But every chapel along the way is unlocked, and a lot of pilgrims would stop at each one to reflect and pray. It's a quieter spirituality than you find in Spain.
The Francés is more social than the Le Puy route. Sort of. There were more nights of cooking together and drinking, and a lot more people forming tight groups and friendships. That was fun. But this can be isolating, too. In France I never ate alone; everyone always ate at the same table. In Spain there wasn't a bed race, but there was definitely a kitchen race, and if you arrived late (I like walking in the late afternoons) you will arrive after the camino-families have formed their dinner plans. I ate alone close to 1/4 of the nights.
********************
For those who don't have the time to walk for a month or more, I think that ten to twelve days would still make for an amazing experience. For myself, I don't think anything less would have felt 'complete.' A week just wouldn't have been long enough to feel fully immersed. With that, my recommendations for the best 'short caminos' would be:
- Le Puy to Conques.
- León or Astorga to Santiago.
- Conques to Moissac, via the Vallée du Célé. So pretty. So amazingly pretty.
- Cahors to Aire sur l'Adour
The first three begin and end in a historically important cathedral town, which offer a nice framework for a camino.
********************
More posts to come!
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