The Camino is a sacred walking pilgrimage to the resting place of St James the Greater, nestled in the far corner of Galicia, in the northwest of Spain. We thank God for gathering a joyful and diverse group of pilgrims — from all walks of life — to take this bold step together. For many, walking over 100 kilometres on foot seemed unimaginable. Yet, here we were, answering the call.
Our Holy Week journey began in Sarria, where we joined the local Palm Sunday procession. From an ancient monastery atop a quiet hill, the procession flowed down narrow cobblestone streets toward the town’s central church. A simple float bearing a statue of Jesus riding a donkey led the way, followed by a priest, a marching band, locals, and pilgrims from around the world. Police officers guided the route, and as we descended, cafés, shops, and homes lined our path. Curious onlookers watched, photographed, or even joined us.
Palm branches were scarce, for spring still bore the chill of winter, yet the local church used whatever green boughs could be found. They came in many shapes and sizes — each waved with reverence. It was humbling. We imagined what it must have been like for the disciples, the crowd, the hopeful hearts of Jerusalem. At the town square, the crowd slowly dispersed, but we stayed on and celebrated Palm Sunday Mass together.
The next morning, our true pilgrimage began. Cold, wet, and unrelenting, the weather would test us throughout all six days. Not one passed without rain. On the second day, hail struck three times. It was difficult, yes — but transformative.
By the third day, a shorter route offered some respite, though it began with a long, muddy path. Our shoes and trousers bore the marks of the trail — caked in dirt, soaked through. Yet, laughter echoed as we arrived at the hotel, weary but uplifted. That evening, we explored the town of Melide. Though we could not attend Mass due to a penitential service, witnessing the church brimming with locals was eye-opening. Their devotion stirred something in us.
We dined that night on Galician specialities — especially pulpo (octopus), a local delicacy — savouring both the food and each other’s company.
On the next evening, Maundy Thursday, we were welcomed at our hotel with paella. Later, we attended a moving liturgy: the commissioning of confirmands, the washing of feet, and silent adoration. After dinner, many returned to the church for a Holy Hour — a quiet, reflective time with the Lord.
Good Friday brought more rain, more cold. The day’s walk was shorter, but not easier. Reaching the hotel, we discovered no transport was available into town. But after dinner at a rustic yet elegant restaurant, we gathered to pray the Stations of the Cross — led tenderly by one of our pilgrims. Then came the final day. Rain, wind, and mud greeted us once again. The second half of the journey proved the toughest. Strong winds blew our hats away and pushed against our steps. Still, nothing could stop us now. Our hearts were fixed on Santiago.
As we neared the city, the skies suddenly cleared. Sunshine broke through. It felt as if God Himself smiled down on us. In the plaza before the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, there was celebration — people cheering, singing, laughing, embracing. It felt like Heaven’s welcome after a long, faithful journey. A glimpse, perhaps, of how it will be when we reach our eternal home.
After rest and a fresh change of clothes, we visited the Cathedral and paid homage to St James, offering our thanks and prayers.
On Easter Sunday, we arrived early for Mass, eager for a good view of the famed Botafumeiro. Watching the giant thurible swing high above the congregation was breathtaking. It moved as if lifted by angels — a sign of prayer, worship, and blessing.
A fitting culmination to all we had journeyed through.That night, we celebrated with a farewell dinner — full of laughter, reflection, and shared grace. Stories flowed.
Friendships deepened. Hearts opened.
Some spoke of healing, growth, and unexpected peace.
This pilgrimage, I believe, we will treasure for years to come. For some, it was a beginning. For others, a return. But for all, it was a path of grace — hard, beautiful, and holy. May this Camino not be the end, but the start of a new journey with God.
Till then, Buen Camino. 🌿
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