Camino Day 14: To the ocean

The mountains; Oviedo-Aviles (30km)

July 16, 2026

I was ready to leave Oviedo. There was a storm coming, and I was racing the rain clouds. This was my final connector before I joined the artery of Norte.

I quietly snuck out of my room, and got ready alone. No pilgrims here.

I started walking around 6am and saw pilgrims on the street. I thought that maybe there are others like me walking the way to the coast, but I soon realized they were all going Primitivo.

***

Different arteries lead to Santiago – some are more powerful than others, and some have a stronger flow, stronger energy.

All necessary capillaries.

Frances is the aorta. Strong and powerful, straight to the heart. Portuguese – the arms; Primitivo – the legs.

San Salvador is mild, an extension to the fingertips.

And Norte, oh Norte. I feel it doesn’t even connect to the body. Maybe the belly? The brain? It’s too logical for magic. Too structured and analytical. Competitive. Maybe it’s just muscle? Or skin? A long camino, but so surface-level. Just for views (which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but that’s called a hike, not a Camino).

***

Norte broke me two years ago. It broke my shoes and I had to go to a cobbler to get them fixed in Bilbao. It was the only camino that gave me blisters, because everything was so damp. The connections I made didn’t last. And my knees – the worst camino pain I’ve ever known, it felt like they would explode.

But I’m back to rewrite and reclaim this end of Norte.

What do I want to practice?

Changing my mind.

I struggle with this in “real life”, feeling like when I make a choice, I must honour it until the end.

I’m learning that value is actually less important to me than realigning with my needs and desires.

So that’s what I’m doing here on Norte – constantly realigning with my needs and desires. For me.

Not the conservative or expected or group-mentality or fear-induced.

Just living for the sake of living, because it feels like me.

I veered off of Norte last time and pivoted to Primitivo. But this year, I’m finishing the last 300km the way I want to. Fearlessly confronting the tsunami.

***

What does the rain mirror?

I like to look at the symbolism of rain on camino. So far it has rained in Leon during the game, in Oviedo on my rest day, and in Aviles. All in big cities. Where big emotions are felt; a release.

Leon I was missing my friends and recognizing that ours paths part. In Oviedo again; the conclusion of San Salvador. And Aviles, the end of my sanity (but also an end to a connector Camino). The rain has sort of book-ended each part.

Desert – rain – mountains – rain – connect to coast – rain.

***

I left Oviedo, a city shrouded in mist. So muggy and sweaty. I didn’t miss this Norte feeling of dampness, where things never dry.

My bag has also never been heavier with extra food. I wanted to get rid of things and shed everything. It all felt like too much.

I felt like I’m wearing a ton of bricks.

And everyone is in a fucking rush, so many semi-trucks speeding by me. So many fast cars rushing to get to work. You feel that urgency in the air, and it makes you want to protect yourself.

But overall, the walk was not bad, I feel lighter when I have time to reflect and write to integrate. The journaling of tough feelings in Oviedo gave me strength moving forward.

I felt a warm comforting ease as I approached the branch connecting to Norte.

Homecoming, wtf?

I was confused because this Camino hurt me, but at the same time it holds many pilgrims and I am lonely, missing connection. The abusive tug of war.

I’m allowed to change my mind. I’m allowed to affirm my needs.

***

I get to the municipal albergue and I’m the 10th backpack in line, feeling out of place. I feel a rush of unfamiliarity. Pilgrims arrive and hug and celebrate reuniting. But they are all strangers to me.

It feels like everyone knows each other, and all the friendships have been solidified and there is no space for me. I know that’s not true and it’s a matter of trusting the way. Everytime is divinely on time.

But it didn’t make it any less uncomfortable. It felt like highschool. A group of 3 mean girls whispering about camino relationships – dead-end romances, girl talk. There is also a French group, so annoying. I definitely don’t speak French today. Another group of loud and fashionable Italians, edgy.

As I wait to check in, I observe. I don’t share anything.

The French man is mansplaining, trying to tell the hospitalero how to do his job more efficiently.

There is a California girl with her feather hat and her third eye hand tattoo. She is loud and the meanest of the mean girls. The leader, I think.

I finally get to pick my bed, and I choose one near a socket. Unfortunately for me, the French are beside me. I stay quiet and get my things ready to shower. I hear another group, The Bros have arrived. I think a mix of Australian and American. One is bald. I keep a tab.

I try to scope out the shower. The two downstairs are taken. I go upstairs and it’s a YMCA style open shower with three spots.

And there is California spiritual leader. What a funny way to introduce yourself to someone – in a naked shower.

Face your fears, they said.

Thanks Norte, you bitch.

***

I come back from my shower and notice the bald guy is in the bed beside me. I exchange small bits of conversation with him, the Australian and the American. He is giving me the least amount of conversation, so I cut him.

They are all walking 40km tomorrow anyways, see you never. The ones that marathon the camino – The marathon bros.

Will I regret not taking time for these connections? No because the ones that are meant for me will last, will not rush. Will align and synchronize.

From what I know, they drink and party and do Camino in a very different way.

Where is the soul?

There are also two Czech girls who didn’t say hi. Cut.

Camino Norte is like highschool, except everyone is a jock and everyone is popular. It’s group mentality with survival of the fittest.

It’s a group marathon; who is faster, stronger, hotter.

But does anyone really care?

The traditional Norte would. The traditional Norte mindset is like Love Island. It’s about being coupled, flaunting, and being tempted. It’s a social game. And you will lose if you let the game destroy you.

For the next two weeks, I want to play rogue and unexpected.

I’m going to out-Norte Norte.

Let the games begin.

***

People will come and go, people will choose to stay or leave. That is their truth. That is our right; to show up or not.

***

I felt out of place so I left the albergue, knowing very well it would thunderstorm.