This past July, I walked the Camino de Santiago for the second time — this time with Shalem. From July 18 through July 24, 2026, nineteen of us made our way from Oia, Spain, to the Cathedral of St. James in Santiago de Compostela, covering roughly one hundred miles along the Portuguese Coastal Route. Three staff members from Shalem and sixteen peregrinos, ranging in age from our mid-30s to our mid-70s, walked together in what became a close-knit community held together by bonds of compassion and contemplative spirit.
The Camino de Santiago — the “Way of St. James” — is a network of ancient pilgrim routes threading across Western Europe, all converging on the Cathedral in Santiago, where tradition holds that the remains of the apostle James the Great are buried. The routes are often compared to a scallop shell: many lines, originating in many places, all leading to one center. The scallop shell has become the enduring emblem of the pilgrimage, and pilgrims from around the world have followed these paths for more than a thousand years — as much for the journey as for the destination.
I first walked the Camino in 2024 with a friend who organized every detail and served as both guide and companion. That journey was spiritually enriching, but I sensed there was more to explore. I wanted to return, not to reach a particular destination or to resolve some question, but to go deeper into the call of pilgrimage itself — the outward journey and the interior one.
What Makes a Trip a Pilgrimage?
Phil Cousineau, in The Art of Pilgrimage: The Seeker’s Guide to Making Travel Sacred, writes that “virtually every traveler can transform any journey into pilgrimage with a commitment to finding something personally sacred along the road” (San Francisco: Conari Press, 2022; pg. xxviii). I like that answer, though the word “commitment” sounds like extra weight for my backpack. Without getting too heavy about it, maybe the key for my pilgrimage had less to do with taking on more commitments and baggage and more to do with cultivating awareness of what I am already carrying — discovering what I can leave behind and keeping open to whatever comes next.
The staff of Shalem gave us a beautiful framework for that interior work. On successive days, they invited us to “remember” our intentions, to “release” what we felt called to let go of, and to “reimagine” our lives in light of what we were experiencing. They offered a mantra, borrowed from an anonymous author, that stayed with me the whole way: “I am a pilgrim, not a tourist.” Each day’s hike began with a three-hour period of silence, giving us space to do the interior work of a pilgrim before we spoke a word to one another.
The logistics were, in a word, gracious. Our hotels were welcoming — we dined and rested more like royalty than pilgrims — and a luggage service moved our bags between stops. The weather was almost ideal: little of the heat wave that gripped much of Europe last summer, and only a brief shower on the final day. Our daily walks ranged from ten to eighteen miles.
For Surrender, Not Surrendering
My pilgrimage was transformational, but I use that word carefully. I did not go seeking major changes, guidance on big decisions, or resolution of old wounds. Many pilgrims have such experiences, and I honor them. Mine was more subtle. Having been called back out of retirement into service for a second time, I was looking for some affirmation about what work is still mine to do at this stage of life.
The Camino offered its own wisdom in reply: clarity of purpose, keeping your balance, resting when you need to, letting go of unnecessary baggage, respecting your limits, and traveling with joy. It reminded me, too, of the particular gift of walking in community — of the small adjustments we make for one another on the way, the pace we share, the care we offer.
The word that stayed with me was “surrender” — not in the sense of giving up, but of letting go. Letting go of the clutter that has come and gone, of what no longer serves, of what no longer holds the same pull it once did.
Never Stop Walking
Jackson Droney, one of our pilgrimage leaders, wrote after participating in a similar pilgrimage in 2019 that his takeaway from the Camino could be summed up in two words: “keep walking.” I finished this journey with much the same message, prompted by a stop sign I passed somewhere along the route. A pilgrim before me had altered it to read: “NEVER STOP WALKING.”
That is my hope and my prayer.