May 29, 2025

26.74 miles | 43 km

Starry Walk

My alarm rang at 3:30, and I knew I couldn’t sleep another wink. The room was still a chorus of snores that even white noise from my phone couldn’t drown out. I climbed down the bunk ladder, quietly collected my things, and slipped outside into the sleeping city to begin the last stage of my journey. The alberuge doors only opened from the inside; once I was out, there was no going back.

As I drew in a breath of the cool night air, I became keenly aware of the smells around me: lingering cigarette smoke from the garden, Estrella Galicia beer, and the faint but distinctive scent of sweet straw from a farm nearby. Although the streets were well lit, I could see stars hanging like twinkle lights above the village of Arzúa.

My heart pulsed in my neck as I made my way through the empty streets—streets that had been bustling with tourists and pilgrims just a few hours ago. A cat’s eyes caught the glint of my headlamp and glittered from the shrubbery below. I hoped nobody had noticed me leaving. After a ten-minute walk, the trail left the warm glow of the town and disappeared, like a tunnel, into the unknown. I turned my headlamp a little brighter, breathed a prayer, and set out into the dark.

A Lamp Unto My Feet

Everything was pitch black except for the beam of my headlamp as I walked down the empty trail. The trees seemed to reach into the path with their finger-like branches, their shadows creeping along the ground as I walked. I stopped every so often to survey my surroundings, but the only sounds were the hum of a distant highway and the crunch, crunch of my boots on the gravelly pavement. I wondered if anybody else was out here—if anybody else was crazy enough to start walking three hours before sunrise.

In the darkness and the silence, I became acutely aware of God’s presence surrounding me. I thought of Psalm 119:105:

“Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.”

Just like the headlamp lighting my path, the Word of God gives me guidance through the darkness of life’s paths so that I do not stumble. Although I can’t see the entire journey, His Word reveals the way forward, one step at a time.

“See You in Santiago”

Suddenly, I noticed flashlights on the trail some hundred yards ahead. I listened, trying to decide if the voices belonged to pilgrims. Finally, I heard the click, click of trekking poles and a few words of English in young, friendly tones. Pilgrims, I decided. When I caught up, I learned that they were a group of three from from Belgium, Spain, and Colombia who met while hiking the Camino Francés. We chatted for a bit, and then I wished them a buen Camino as I moved on ahead.

“See you in Santiago!” they called as I passed.

See you in Santiago. The words sounded strange to me. That’s when it began to sink in that the Camino was almost over. Instead of feeling sad, though, I felt excited. My feet wanted to run, but I didn’t let them. With twenty some miles ahead of me that day, I had to pace myself.

By six o’clock, the eastern sky began to glow orange. Birds twittered in the bushes, and all the celestial lights disappeared, save Venus, still dangling above the horizon like a diamond. I walked past well-trodden streets, empty cafes, and sundry stores, thinking of the thousands of boots that would pass this way in just a few hours. I tried to soak up the last moments of quiet and solitude before arriving in Santiago with some 2,900 other pilgrims at the end of the day.

Consider the wildflowers, and how they grow…

I thought back to my first day on the trail, Easter Sunday. It felt like so long ago. I had been excited, nervous, and ambitious, carrying a backpack that was too heavy for me. That was when I was twenty-two; now I was twenty-three. Here I was, forty days later, walking though dark woods before dawn. My boots were worn, my arms tanned, and my pack the lightest it had ever been. My clothes fit more loosely, and my black baseball cap had become a faded sort of green in the Spanish sun.

More than just my physical appearance had changed, however. I felt more confident, relaxed, open, free, and alive. The change had been so gentle and gradual that I barely noticed it until now. I no longer cared about what people thought of me because I know that my identity is in Christ. I just want to be like Jesus and walk in a way that pleases Him.

A screenshot from Gronze Maps showing all the Camino routes converging in Santiago

The Last Hill

Then I saw it: the city of Santiago de Compostela spread out before me in the afternoon sun. It was real. I could see the peaks of Santiago Cathedral, a landmark that has beckoned pilgrims for generations. Emotion unexpectedly welled up inside of me and spilled out my eyes. Now that I was so close to finishing, I realized how much I didn’t want the journey to end. My legs that had carried me so far suddenly felt like stopping. But there was no stopping—not now. I set my mind finish this journey with endurance and continued down the hill with the hundreds of other pilgrims.

Seeing Santiago for the first time from Monte do Gozo

The Final Kilometer

Excitement, joy, and sadness filled my heart as I approached Santiago. Suddenly, all the blisters, hills, and struggles of the past forty days seemed like nothing. It had all gone by so quickly. I thought about each of the fellow pilgrims who had graced my path and the merry moments we had shared together along the trail.

As I approached the square, I heard the legendary bagpipes playing from under the archway. The sound was so final and melancholy that it chilled me to the bone. My pace became a marching melody as I walked under the shadowy archway and into the blinding afternoon sunshine beyond.