The coast; San Martin de Laspra – Novellana (37km)

July 18, 2026

I woke up ready to walk. After a short 8km day, my legs craved movement.

Our whole room (two autistic Germans and spontaneous Ukraina) except Groningen Dutch girl, decided to wake up at 5:30am. Our alarms went off and we all silently did our rituals. After breakfast, I was the first to leave.

I do like being the first to leave because it gives me a buffer to do my morning routine – Duolingo and listen to my voice notes.

The morning was a little rainy.

One of the German autistic guys passes me. He is rushing, makes no stops, and has taken a shortcut. He is not walking the way I want to walk, so I let him rush ahead. Bad vibes. Bad dark energy. Fear.

As I cross the bridge, the dark clouds release, and the rain comes. I wanted so deeply to avoid this. I prayed this drizzle would stop, but it just got heavier. I couldn’t stop on the edge of the highway, so I waited a little longer until I got into the forest. I put on my absurdly orange poncho and laughed out loud.

There was joy in this moment too. Something I am happy I leaned into. I smiled again and surrendered.

I was so grateful for wearing contacts that day, the poncho (though made me sweat like a sauna) kept my backpack dry, and thank god for a shirt with a built in bra (less layers to sweat through and wash).

As I thought about this, I really feel I have too many clothes (again). I have things I have not worn that I’m ok to abandon, but haven’t yet. Each year I realize I have more to shed. I need less and less.

Then I got sad.

Another day walking alone.

I walked through a village and passed an albergue I thought about staying at, then let it go.

It was also Saturday and they were having their market in the square. I wanted to buy a chorizo or some cheese, but the rain made me skeptical that it wouldn’t last. I stopped anyways, just to look, and walked away. I kind of regret not getting one, but I just feel like I have too much food in my bag, and I can get some chorizo at another spot.

That made me sad, too.

I walked away moping.

I kept thinking I should have pushed on my second day and not had that beach day. Maybe I would have made more connections. Maybe I would be having more fun. Regret spiral.

My mind kept trying to go back to that place of regret but I kept trying to bring her back to gratitude and acceptance. That this is the way this Camino was supposed to go. That nothing I could have done would change it. That this was all divine alignment.

Maybe I didn’t need a beach day, but it happened. And that’s what I got.

I tried to breathe and slow down.

I simply cannot stay at all the albergues I want and I can’t meet everyone on the camino. Every day is a choice.

I tried to sink back into the present experience. I am here. Trust the timing. But I felt so bad about this Camino. I was having a ton of doubts.

So much regret. Why did I change? Why did I stay? Why didn’t I walk more? Why did I pick that albergue? Are all my choices wrong? Is my intuition broken?

Suddenly I heard dogs fighting and whimpering and it scared me.

I tried to feel the peaceful muggy clouds. The air was cool.

I’ve been walking for 13km already and my body feels nothing. I walk through a picturesque village and a kind old man asked me how far I’m going and I tell him “20 more km”. He is surprised but I am not. It was the best interaction of my day.

What am I learning here?

Is this paralleling my life choices? Regret in my later years? Showing me what I need to change?

I start to get more philosophical.

Do I hurry up and rush and connect with new people? Do I stop to appreciate the surroundings?

I catch myself trying to plan and trying to curate perfect experiences…a “perfect” camino. A “perfect” life…

This is impossible. Nobody’s life is perfect. It’s all about acceptance of choices.

Maybe shedding these residual perfectionist tendencies is what Norte is teaching me. Or at least a part of the learning.

I shift it. I try to be more appreciative of being able to walk this path with a strong body and getting to see the beauty, instead of trying to grip and collect the parts and feeling regretful of what I don’t have. I trust the timing. I really do truly trust the timing.

The key is to be grateful where I am and listen to my body. Adjust accordingly and repeat.

I did feel my mind pulling me to journal more, reflect more. But it’s hard on days where I’m tired from walking. Did I get what I wanted from this camino?

Spaciousness, writing and partnership?…

***

The rain started to stop, but my regretful mind kept pushing. And this made me spiral into second guessing and planning and reserving more albergues. I booked 5 more and 3 on the same day; it was a mess of anxiety. Fear.

I finally got to my albergue after a long day walking. I changed my sweaty socks once and ate a whole bag of candy for lunch.

Somewhere along the way, I ran into edgy Italians, a Dutch guy, and two Spanish guys from Granon. If only they knew how much magic lives in their Camino town…

As I was checking into my albergue, autistic German came in. He didn’t make a reservation and he was turned away. That scared me. Because that didn’t feel like camino spirit…Norte, you bitch.

I didn’t feel great in that albergue. I felt like a guest in someone’s home and had to be careful what I asked for. I had an ok dinner with a group of 5 teachers from Barcelona. I learned some Catalan with them.

After being super full after dinner, I did get my laundry done for free (Camino luxury). When I came back down to my room, there was an Italian family with 3 young kids. I was shocked because I don’t know how to Camino with kids.

I observed as the parents prepared dinner and got the kids ready for bed. This, too, was non-traditional partnership.

I smiled as the twin boys played in the bunkbed beside me. I didn’t set an alarm.

xoxo surrender