Camino Gratitude Portugal

After yesterday’s rain-soaked journey, I retreated to the albergue, grateful for a warm shower that melted away the chill. My damp clothes hung from every available clothespin, blowing in the breeze. Just as the sun was setting, two familiar faces appeared in the doorway—fellow pilgrims I’d walked alongside separately over the past two days. Their eyes lit up upon seeing me, and without a word, I knew they wanted to extend our fleeting trail connections into something more substantial.

Over a shared meal of bread, local cheese, Jamon Iberico, and regional beers, they regaled me with tales from their ten previous Caminos. The Primitivo Camino emerged as a possibility next year, the ancient original route with mountains and sweeping vistas.

Sleep last night offered its own pilgrim comedy. An elderly couple entered our dormitory as night fell. The wife claimed a bottom bunk near mine while her husband, oddly, retreated to a separate room. The mystery of this marital sleeping arrangement resolved itself at 1:30 AM when I jolted awake to what sounded like a small locomotive. Her snores reverberated off the stone walls, impossibly loud for someone so small. Soon, I realized she had orchestrated a symphony—nearly twenty pilgrims snoring around me. I lay awake, amused, wondering if this chorus might be another form of Camino communion.

Dawn found me on the path, headlamp shining light before my feet. I’d risen early with purpose—to witness the day’s birth. The transformation began with light in the eastern sky, then a shift from indigo to violet, erupting into fiery oranges and reds that finally yielded to the pure yellow of morning. The cloudless sky made it more dramatic, like watching creation itself unfold. As light reclaimed the world, birds flew in fields and trees around me, their songs a chorus for this moment.

Thoreau’s words emerged: “It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” On the Camino, this wisdom reveals itself with each sunrise. This daily miracle is central to the pilgrim experience.

In these dawn moments, I sense the divine in everything—light breaking over ancient paths, dew catching light, birds giving voice to the joy within all creation. The Camino’s true gift is not reaching Santiago but in a daily invitation to witness and receive such overwhelming beauty. In these moments, I am utterly present—unburdened by yesterday’s rain or tomorrow’s concerns. Here, walking between darkness and light, I find myself free of worry, expectation, and constraint.

The Camino’s deepest purpose is to strip away our complications until we stand receptive to pure joy. Only in this simplicity can we recognize what surrounded us—a love and beauty so profound it can only be described as sacred.