I had been plotting and dreaming for years. So in the spring of 2022, I grabbed my sketchbook and embarked on the Camino Francés, the primary route of the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage in northern Spain.

The Camino de Santiago is a (usually) walking pilgrimage route that hundreds of thousands of people do every year. Also known as the Way of St. James, the network of Camino paths lead to the shrine of Saint James (one of the apostles of Jesus Christ) in the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, a city in the province of Galicia in northwestern Spain. Legend has it that the remains of the Saint are interred there.

Stretching about 700 kilometers or 440 miles, the route I took began in the city of Pamplona, Spain. While many who travel this pilgrimage are religious, a significant portion do it for cultural reasons. My goals were to explore artistic and historical experiences along the way.

More than walking the Camino, my primary ambition was to sketch as I walked and choose locations to return to paint them more carefully. Afterward, I would rent a car, so I would be mobile and could carry my oil paints.

Note: I’m currently working on a self-published book of all my sketches from the Camino de Santiago. Approximately 60 total. I’m hard at it, and I hope to have it ready by the end of 2023. Subscribe to my website at the bottom of the page or follow me on any of my social media to keep informed.

I began my adventure with a few days in Madrid, appreciating the art museums the city has to offer. From there, I went south via rail, arriving in the city of Cadiz, on the southwestern Spanish coast. My decision to visit Cadiz was based on a mysterious idea that I needed to go there. I had had this feeling for years. I wish I could say that I found something, but it remains a mystery. Maybe I’ll try again.

Nevertheless, It is a lovely small city and I used my time in Cadiz to break in my new sketchbook and ship the equipment I would not be carrying on the Camino to Santiago for later retrieval

Catching a high-speed train northward, I sped to Pamplona, and the next morning, I was off on my hike……

There’s a habit of people, saying “Buen Camino,” to you as you walk the trail. This means “have a good Camino,” or just “good Camino.” The first time I heard this once I began backpacking down the street in Pamplona, it brought tears to my eyes.

Initially, I planned to walk approximately eight to ten kilometers, but due to the hostels (“albergues” in Spanish) not yet being open for the season, I ended up hiking around 20 kilometers on the first day. Unfortunately, I began to experience a sharp pain in my left shin, and the next morning it was all swollen. I decided to take a shorter walk to Puenta la Reina.

There, I consulted with a physical therapist, as well as a local pharmacist. Their advice was harsh. I needed to spend a few days resting, at least. And unfortunately, it was more serious than I hoped. After a few days of rest, with a little change, I decided to bus back to Pamplona and find a podiatrist.

The local podiatrist I saw (35 Euros for an appointment!) was also pessimistic. She thought it would be weeks before I could walk. And she thought the reason I developed the injury was because I was holding my foot differently while walking as the result of a recent surgery I had had.

I felt like a fool.

I believe that my US podiatrist misguided me into a surgery. I had had persistent pain in my big toe, and he assured me that a simple surgery would reduce the pain and allow me to still do a 500-mile Camino, just months after the procedure. However, to this day, a year and a half later, my foot remains troubled with complications, leaving me in a worse state than before the surgery. In retrospect, I believe I could’ve done the walk without the surgery.

This devastated me. After years of anticipation and preparation, my grand adventure had been reduced to two days. It felt pathetic.

But here I was. In Spain. Darn!

I realized that the only way I was going to do the Camino was by bicycle. I bought a secondhand bicycle from a thrift store for €70. Another €125 covered the cost of tuning it up, replacing a few components, and acquiring saddlebags and simple repair tools.

On April 21, after enjoying the Easter celebrations in Pamplona (with several fascinating Easter parades), I pedaled off.

The bicycling was mostly pleasant. A little harder than one would think. I stuck to the trail, and there are lots of hills where I had to push the heavy saddle bag laden bicycle up. And traveling by bicycle came at a price —I failed to form a large “Camino family,” the friendships created by fellow travelers walking their pilgrimages at the same time. But it proved a benefit to the “sketchbook Camino.”

At first, I pedaled in the mornings and drew in the afternoons. But I often found myself too tired, and it would be hot in the afternoons. So I developed a rhythm that mornings were for sketching, while the afternoons were for cycling. I believe I got much more done and of a higher quality.

I arrived in Santiago de Compostela on May 15, 2022. About 25 days, so quite a slow Camino on a bicycle. But that was purposeful, I was in no rush. I spent a few days there drawing and being a tourist. A real highlight was a rooftop tour of the cathedral. And I became sick for about four or five days with a norovirus. This was unpleasant, but worked to my advantage, because my Italian friends from Bologna finished their Camino while I was still there and we were able to have a celebratory meal together. It was small, but indeed I had a Camino family!

I ended up sticking to my original plan, which was to rent a car, and drive and paint the camino. I left Santiago on May 27th, and  picked up a bargain rental car in Leon, Spain. I drove to southern France to start the camino all over again at Saint Jean de Pied de Port and visit with some old friends from Chicago. 

I traveled painting along the Camino until June 12th, slowly working my way towards Galicia, and had made it as far as Navarrete when a heat wave drove me to the coast. I ended up visiting Finistere and Muxia on the Atlantic coast, and then once it cooled down on June 16th, I made my way back inland.

I spent another eight days there, along the western part of the Camino. I did a couple more oil paintings and watercolor sketches. The Camino was quite busy by this time, and I met many interesting people, including a nice woman from California who I hung out with for several days.

On June 25th, I took a train to Barcelona, where I had a flight booked back to the United States. I spent a few days in Barcelona, which I found extremely hot and uncomfortable. I found out later that I had had Covid-19, which is why I didn’t feel good! It was a long way back home via airplane, bus, and an overnight stay, but on June 29th I made it back to my house in Rockland, Maine.

It ended up being a very different journey than I had planned, or hoped for. But I’ve come to understand that it was a pilgrimage. It wasn’t supposed to be easy. Life is what happens while you’re trying to make plans, right?

I can’t wait to do it again! Somehow, feet willing.

I’d love to hear from other people who sketched on the Camino, or approached it with a particular interest in the art of it.

Currently, I am starting to create a book of my sketches that I’ll be offering for sale, most likely via Amazon, ideally before the end of 2023.

And I have many more plans about the Camino and art, and hope you come along for the ride.

Buen Camino!

This post originally published on stephangiannini.com

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