My Camino Primitivo 2025

This summer I returned to Spain for another pilgrimage but not a long one, at least not by Camino standards. The Camino Primitivo, the oldest and arguably most rugged of the routes to Santiago, begins in Oviedo and climbs through the wild mountains of Asturias before entering the green folds of Galicia. It eventually joins the Camino Francés and leads to the great cathedral of Santiago de Compostela.

From there I kept walking west, to Faro Finisterre where the land falls away and the Atlantic receives everything that still needs letting go. I even squeezed in an extra day to walk to Muxía, arriving in time to watch a sunset that felt like a blessing poured across the sea.

This is my third Camino, and yet it feels entirely new. I carry with me memories of Le Puy and Finisterre, of friendships that shaped me and silences that held me, and thresholds I crossed internally. But the Primitivo asks something different; more solitude, more ascent, more surrender. Its steep, stony paths invite a deeper listening: not only to my own heart, but to the voice of the One who called me here.

I did not come this time searching for answers. I came to meet God in the questions. To hear Him in the wind sweeping the ridges, in the quiet of forest chapels, in the steady rhythm of my own breath. I came to remember that His presence is not earned by effort but offered as grace.

Each morning, I laced my boots as a kind of prayer. I asked for the courage to walk with open feet and a soft heart, to accept whatever the mountains offered and to trust the road He set before me. The blisters, the rain, the sudden bursts of sunlight; all became a conversation between Creator and created, a daily reminder that He is both guide and companion.

This is the story of that pilgrimage: a journey of body and spirit, pulled from my journal and written in steps, snapshots, and revelations from the trail. Come walk with me.