With some unexpected free time opening up, the idea came almost instantly: returning to the Camino de Santiago. A good 15 years had passed since my experience on the Camino Francés, and I was really eager to walk it again. I quickly decided to take the chance and I set off for the Camino del Norte, along Spain’s northern Atlantic coast.

I flew into Bilbao, and after a mix of trains and buses, I finally set foot on the trail, symbolically starting from Hendaye, in France. The Basque Country was stunning: the route winds along impressive cliffs overlooking the sea and through lively towns. I especially loved San Sebastian, with its incredible energy, people playing beach volley on the sand, and the vibrant atmosphere of the bars. Zarautz was impressive too; that dinner on the seafront at sunset, watching the surfers in the water, was unforgettable.

But the real magic of the Camino, just as I remembered, is the people you meet. You naturally become part of a community of people from all over the world, sharing sections of the path, evenings in the albergues, laughter and struggles. The solidarity among pilgrims is something special. One evening, in particular, stands out. In Deba, all the accommodations were full; there wasn’t a single bed available in town or nearby. Just when the situation seemed critical, with many of us panicking trying to find a place to stay, thanks to a random conversation and the incredible generosity of a local, a solution appeared almost like magic, and with some other pilgrims we found hospitality in a cozy private home. Moments like these are the heart of the Camino.

It’s also a physical and mental test though, and shortly after Bilbao, an unusual ankle pain appeared, almost up the shin. At first I didn’t give up, thinking it was just one of those things that come and go, but day by day it became more persistent, until the kilometers felt too many and the pain unbearable. Finally, in Laredo, I took a bus to reach Santander, where the diagnosis was anterior tibial tendonitis.

And just like that, my Camino came to an abrupt halt. Suddenly I found myself grounded, forced into a break. Watching other pilgrims arrive and set off again each morning while I was stuck was hard, I won’t deny it. But those slow days focused on recovery, also gave me space to reflect. The Camino isn’t just about pushing forward at all costs; sometimes it’s about accepting a stop, learning to listen to your body, and understanding that even stepping back, in its own way, is part of the journey.