By Julie Wearn
I watched Martin Sheen’s The Way when it was shown in the US in 2011. In this inspirational film, Sheen plays Thomas Avery, an American ophthalmologist from California.
Avery goes to France following the death of his adult son, Daniel, killed in the Pyrenees during a storm while walking the Camino de Santiago (the Way of St. James. ) The journey is a Christian pilgrimage route to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Galicia, Spain. Avery’s initial purpose was to retrieve his son’s body but he decides to walk the ancient spiritual trail where his son died, taking Daniel’s ashes with him.
I was inspired by the movie and vowed to someday walk it. Cut to to 2024, and my sister Cathy asked if I would go on The Way walk with her when I retired. Fast forward to March 30, 2026, and I am on a plane to Portugal to begin the Portuguese Coastal Way to Santiago. We are part of a Portugal Green Walks self-guided walking program taking place April 2 – 14, 2026.
The Lone Hiker Carrying Skincare Products
The phrase Portuguese Coastal Camino is important here because I interpreted the word “coastal” very literally. I pictured leisurely strolls beside the ocean, chatting with fellow pilgrims while waves crashed nearby before ending each day at charming little hotels. To be fair, the charming hotels part was mostly accurate. The rest was not.
I was told to pack light—under 20 pounds for the daily luggage transport. Naturally, I packed as though I were heading to a spa retreat that might briefly lose electricity. Along with clothing, I brought an alarming amount of skincare and hair products, an iPad I never used, and a Minnesota State Fair poncho I considered high-performance outdoor gear.
I also bought the largest backpack I could find because I assumed hikers needed to carry important hiking things. What those things were, beyond water, I wasn’t entirely sure. But my backpack did come with a waterproof liner, which felt professional. All the real hikers in our group had Gregory Backpacks with straps mold to your body and when you set the backpack down it stays upright due to the strap supports. My backpack collapsed onto itself due to no support. If I had been carrying my 4 pound ipad I would have probably ditched it along the way.
Should Have Read the Guidebook
Before leaving, I ignored the 193-page guidebook outlining daily mileage, elevation gain, and trail difficulty because, honestly, how complicated could walking be?
It turns out: very.
We met the rest of our group in Porto, Portugal, after two of them had already spent weeks hiking the Fisherman’s Trail—a rugged 140-mile coastal route. This should have been my first warning sign. Instead, I focused on sightseeing, port wine tastings, and admiring Porto’s beautiful riverside streets.
Trained at the Mall of America
Sisters Cathy Schmit and Julie Wearn
I am not a hiker. I am someone who considers a successful workout one where there’s a restroom nearby and you might grab a a snack afterward. And yet, there I was—halfway across Portugal, surrounded by seasoned hikers, carrying a backpack I didn’t understand, and realizing far too late that the word “coastal” does not, in fact, mean “flat.”
What started as a “sister trip” eventually expanded into a group of experienced hikers from Arizona, Colorado, and Florida…plus me, the lone non-hiker from Minnesota whose training consisted primarily of walking laps at the Mall of America. Which, in hindsight, prepared me perfectly for finding bathrooms and soft pretzels. Not so much for mountain terrain.
The actual Camino began the next morning.
Day One -Everyone Knows It’s Windy
Day one was billed as a breezy 12-mile walk along the coast. Two important notes:
- It was closer to 14 miles.
- Wind gusts reached nearly 40 miles per hour.
I thought I was signing up for a scenic coastal walk, something reflective, possibly involving wine at the end of the day. Instead, day one, I found myself clinging to a rope over a collapsed boardwalk in 40-mile-per-hour wind, wondering how a perfectly reasonable life had led me here.
At lunch, we physically held our food down to keep it from blowing away. I burned more calories securing my sandwich than walking the route.
That’s also the day I learned the hiking term “provisional,” which roughly translates to: Congratulations, your day just got longer.
At one point, we encountered a collapsed boardwalk section blocked off with yellow caution tape. Following the lead of other pilgrims, we ignored the tape and crossed anyway by clinging to a rope stretched along the top edge. It felt less like a spiritual pilgrimage and more like a low-budget reality show called Pilgrim Survivor: Portugal.
Still, at the end of day one, I thought: Okay. This is hard, but manageable.
Dog Sandwich Olympics
Day two reinforced that confidence. The walk was long but relatively flat, and that evening I became emotionally invested in a lonely barking dog across from our hotel. Concerned he’d been abandoned for Easter weekend, I made him a couple of breakfast sandwiches and attempted to throw them onto his patio from our hotel window. The first sandwich hit a wall and landed in the street.
Nothing says “helpful American tourist” like accidentally launching deli meat into traffic.
I retrieved it, re-threw it successfully, and considered the situation resolved.
This Apostle Gets Vertical
Then came day three.
We were walking peacefully along the ocean when I looked up at the mountains in the distance and thought, Wow, those are beautiful. Then someone said, “That’s where we’re headed.” And just like that, everything changed.
This was no longer a coastal walk. This was vertical living. We climbed over exposed roots, loose rocks, steep inclines, and boulders that seemed specifically designed to humble people who trained at shopping malls. Somewhere during the ascent, I found myself questioning the historical accuracy of the Camino itself.
If I were an apostle spreading the word of God, I would absolutely not choose a mountain route. I would remain at sea level and let the converts come to me. By the time we finished the 17.5-mile stage that evening, I was stunned—not only by the physical exhaustion, but by the realization that I still had ten days left.
I informed the group that if I ever visited them in Colorado or Arizona, I would not be hiking under any circumstances. I would be sitting indoors, preferably near snacks.
A few days later, our group debated whether to take the coastal or mountain route for an upcoming stage. I voted passionately for the coast. The rest of the group chose the mountains.
I agreed to continue on one condition: I reserved the right to complain about it. Constantly.
An Irish Birthday Song and a Camino Moment
At some point, I learned that walking the Camino could be a spiritual experience if approached with reverence. I decided to begin that portion of the journey with three days remaining.
My birthday fell during the trip and included a three-mile uphill climb at a 15 percent incline in full sun. Nothing says celebration like reconsidering your life choices halfway up a hill. Three Irish men sang “Happy Birthday” to me, which felt both kind and slightly medically necessary.
And yet, somewhere between the wrong turns, relentless climbs, and the steady rhythm of putting one foot in front of the other, I began to understand why people walk the Camino. Not for the views, although they are beautiful. Not for the miles, which can feel endless. But for the quiet moments in between—when the noise of everyday life finally falls away, when your world narrows to the trail beneath your feet, and when you realize you are capable of more than you gave yourself credit for.
The Walk and Gratitude
Even someone like me, who trained for this pilgrimage by walking laps at the Mall of America, could keep going – for 185 miles I kept on going.
I didn’t come away with a grand spiritual awakening or dramatic life transformation. What I found was smaller, quieter, and perhaps more meaningful: the realization that I can do hard things—even the ones I didn’t fully understand when I signed up for them.
Would I do it again? I would probably opt for walking all the levels of Mall of America on Black Friday…carrying my backpack and pulling my luggage. But I’m grateful I walked this one.
