Day One
Once upon a time I lived on Echlin Street, cheek-by-jowl with the Guinness brewery at St James’s Gate, the western entrance to the walled city of Dublin in medieval times.
On days when the odour emanating from the brewery was particularly ripe, I would refer to it as Santiago de Compost eile.
The joke rested on the knowledge that it was the traditional starting point for medieval pilgrims setting out to pay their respects to the remains of St James in Santiago de Compostela in Galicia.
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Our small band of pilgrims swapped the hardship of a land-and-sea journey to the continent for a flight to Santander. Once there, we would spend five days on the Camino del Norte.
After a slog through an industrial zone on the city’s edge, the appeal of doing the Camino in autumn started to become clear.
The countryside was green. The air was cool. The threat of wildfires had receded. Santillana del Mar beckoned.
Existentialists and non-existentialists have been flocking there in great numbers ever since Jean-Paul Sartre rashly described it as the most beautiful village in Spain.
Cow sheds have been transformed into shops, while bars and restaurants jostle for attention alongside the well-equipped Museum of Torture.
Sartre’s dictum that “hell is other people” apparently rings true at the height of the tourist season, but as autumn sets in, the medieval streets are relatively quiet.
Day Two
On my morning stroll, I was met by a tiny old lady who shook her – apparently empty – asthma inhaler at me. Moved by her plight, I handed over the only bank note I had and then watched in admiration as she moved on to accost some new pilgrims coming up the street.
We sent our bags by taxi to Comillas and set out on the 22km walk with a feeling of relief. That’s called doing the Camino with “una mula”.
We were told this by a woman from Warrenpoint, Co Down, with whom we shared a tea in a wayside cafe. She had been living in Spain for 40 years and her husband died 10 years ago, his health deteriorating after he contracted pneumonia while doing the Camino.
The Camino is renowned for people sharing their life stories with strangers.
A thunderstorm was forecast for 4pm but we stopped for a picnic on the beach at Luana. I had no togs but could not resist a dip in the nip.
On the final stretch, the skies opened and we arrived in Comillas like drowned rats. At least my togs had arrived safely, nice and dry, in the taxi.
Day Three
Before hitting the road, we visited Gaudi’s Caprice. This is the famous architect’s “ode to luminosity”. A light-filled house, its exterior is studded with sunflowers and other emblems of the natural world.
The trek to San Vicente de La Barquera takes you along a beautiful coastline. It is a surfer’s paradise.
Thankfully, the rain held off until evening. A local recommended El Bodegon, a seafood restaurant where the servings are generous and the staff are fun.
At the end of the meal, we watched conscience-stricken as a waiter struggled to scoop a lobster out of a fish tank that we hadn’t noticed before. All I could say was, “I had the monkfish”.
Day Four
I am agnostic, but thanks to my grandmother – who took me with her to church on every possible occasion when I was a child – lighting a candle is baked into my DNA when all else fails.
I made my way to the ancient hilltop church, Santa Maria de Los Angeles, where countless candles have been lit by pilgrims over the centuries. Mine was for a friend of my son who took his own life.
It made me reflect that the Camino is as much about people’s mental health and well-being as any desire to see the beauty spots of northern Spain.
Day Five
Expensive rain gear is all very well, but I was making do with a hairdryer for the shoes. A transparent plastic bag turned into a poncho.
We crossed from Cantabria into Asturias along a cliff path. The recent rain made it impossible to continue, so we took to the main road until we could regain the Camino proper.
En route to Llanes, we hardly noticed the drizzle as we took in the beautiful beaches, steep cliffs, rivers and green fields, as well as a chain of mountains running parallel to the sea.
Despite the blisters, the Camino had us in its thrall.
We will be back, better prepared. One day, we will reach the fabled city of Santiago de Compostela. In the meantime, it’s all about the journey.
