They say that one’s Camino starts the moment one decides to go on the Camino de Santiago. If this is the case, mine started in 2012 when I was volunteering at an English Immersion in Spain, and my new friend Marife told me all about this pilgrimage and encouraged me to do it. She talked about the many routes of the Camino, all leading to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela (or the Cathedral of St. James the Apostle). Traditionally, the Camino was taken as a pilgrimage on foot, as a way of paying homage to St James the Apostle, whose remains rest in that temple. Today, people do the Camino for various reasons - some for religious or spiritual, others as a way to unplug and get more clarity, others to get over a loss, and still others for the physical challenge. I was immediately intrigued. Back in the US, I scoured the internet for more information and watched the popular Camino movie, “The Way.” I quickly put the Camino on my bucket list.

The Walking Stick

I shared my new discovery with my parents, who were in their mid-80s at the time. Both thought the Camino sounded amazing and wished they were “twenty years younger so they could do it too.” Not that they weren’t in pretty amazing shape for their age - my dad had recently completed a week-long trip to the Boundary Waters and had a walking stick he’d made from a tree branch he found to show for it. My mom was still active herself, going on daily walks around their subdivision. Nonetheless, they realized that a pilgrimage wouldn’t be in the cards for them, but kept encouraging me to pursue it someday. During one of our Camino conversations, my dad handed me that walking stick, saying, “Here, take it, Kiddo. Use it to walk the Camino. I wish I could be there with you, but carry it, and I’ll be by your side.”

Shown here: My parents in 2012.

I accepted the stick, hoping that my parents would be there to report back to when I finally got to use it. Unfortunately, both my parents passed in 2020. Losing them in the midst of the chaos of the pandemic made that year excruciating and exhausting. My dad passed in May of 2020, and while we were able to see him once or twice, we weren’t able to be there with him when he passed. However, by November of that year, the Covid situation had improved, and because my mom was in hospice care, we were allowed to be with her in her final days, something my family is eternally grateful for.

On one of the visits, my brothers were in the room with our mom during one of her final nights. She was in and out of consciousness and no longer conversational. However, in the middle of the night, our mom sat straight up in bed and said to my brothers, “I’ll be a butterfly at Christmas,” and then went back to sleep. My brothers immediately texted this proclamation to my sisters and me, and it became the first of many indications showing she knew the end was near. During that week, she did other things- she’d wake up and start praying the Hail Mary, or she’d be staring into the distance and then start calling for her brother or asking to be taken to her grandparents’ farm. It was both saddening and reassuring, giving us some proof that perhaps the veil between heaven and earth is very thin and closer than we think. Our mom passed on December 4, and we realized she was indeed like a butterfly - transforming and moving into the afterlife by Christmas.

Time for My Camino

Fast forward to 2022. My sister-in-law and her friend were organizing a trip to walk the Camino with a group that included my brother, niece, nephew, and family. Knowing about my desire to do the Camino, my sister-in-law invited me along. After the events of the past two years, I knew beyond a doubt that it was time. I was excited to do the walk itself, but also intrigued to find out if there was truth in the stories I’d heard that magical things happen on the Camino. “Camino Magic” is how people describe these occurrences, and many say they’re proof that the veil between heaven and earth is noticeably thin on the Camino. 

The concept of the veil between heaven and earth intrigued me even more. While I already believed that both my parents were enjoying “the other side,” I wanted to better understand what that was like. Plus, I still needed closure, as well as time and space to make sense of everything that had happened. And let’s be honest, I was hoping for signs from them on the Camino.

The Search for Magic

So, I traveled to Spain in search of magic and peace. I didn’t have to look far because just being on the Camino felt magical. I knew I was entering a sacred territory where for thousands of years, pilgrims (the name for those walking) have walked the same trails in search of spiritual enlightenment, understanding, and the answers to life’s problems. Pilgrims have done the Camino at times of grief, at crossroads, or to overcome obstacles or blocks. The reason behind each person’s Camino is extremely personal, but for most, it can be described as a sort of magical calling. I felt that magic just as soon as my group and I met up at our starting point in Montforte de Lemos. There were thirteen of us in all - each came with a different background, each a different reason for walking, and we were all connected in some way, either as family or friends. By the end of the week, we were all connected as a Camino Family.

Throughout the course of our six-day Camino, we naturally migrated from person to person - it was like a week of working the crowd at a cocktail party. We’d have conversations, finish them, and then perhaps talk to someone else. We talked, not so much about the Camino, but about random things - life, experiences, and future plans. I’m pretty sure everyone knew my reason for doing the Camino - being tied to the walking stick and my parents - but I didn’t know their personal reasons, nor did we really discuss them. Instead, I feel that those reasons came to life and played out in the conversations, discoveries, and quiet moments we all experienced along the way. Most of the members of the group had lost their parents, and somehow, conversations about those people often came up. The funny thing was no conversations were contrived or forced, instead, sentiments and memories were shared with cathartic results for both the person telling the story and the recipient. As we traveled along those paths that had been walked for so many years, it’s as if we naturally fell into the conversations we needed to have and heard the messages that were meant for us at precise moments in time.

Our Camino Family, ready to head out on one of the rainy days of our journey.

Butterfly Magic

During many of my conversations on the Camino, I shared stories of how my parents had “reached out” from the other side… stories too real to deny. Mary, one of the members of the group, and I walked together often that week. One day, I told her a story about the weeks following my mom’s death, when one of my online students (a first grader) stopped what she was doing and blurted out, “And the butterfly says ‘Hi, Ms. Algiers.’” Startled, I asked the girl why she said that to which she had no reply. For me, it was my mom letting me know she was okay. Later in the school year, when I met that little girl in person, she randomly presented me with a picture she’d drawn - it was of an ice cream cone with angel wings, holding onto a heart and “Love, love love” written on the back.

The top picture is a painting my mom made while in high school, and the lower picture was drawn by my student.

Fast forward to butterflies and Camino magic… a day after I shared my butterfly story with Mary, our group was waiting in the lobby of a hostel. Only one of our rooms was ready - Mary’s. She had the key but hadn’t gone into her room yet. Mary noticed I looked tired and thought I might need a bathroom. “Here, take my key and go use our bathroom.” Now, unlike the fifty times along the Camino where there was no bathroom, at this moment, I really didn’t one. But something told me to go. As I entered, the shower curtain immediately caught my attention - it was decorated with butterflies, of course. It felt like a message from my mom saying, “Hey, I was with you on your walk today.”

And while it’s true that butterfly curtains aren’t that much of an oddity, they’re not exactly standard issue in hotels. Flash forward to a few days later when we arrived in Santiago. All of us were at different hotels, and mine was further away from the group. Since I’m directionally challenged, I was on the phone with my husband, who happens to be a whiz with maps and directions. Eric guided me down the street and walked and talked with me as I made my way to my hotel. He saw some shops on his map as he led me and pointed them out as I’d told him I needed to buy a sweater before dinner that night. As I got close to my hotel, he amazed me with his knowledge of the nearby stores. “If you turn right, there’ll be three stores - the first one is really close to your hotel, then a couple of buildings down there are two more.” I made a note of those stores as I headed for the hotel and specifically ruled out the first one as it was a little too Golden Girls for me. Ten minutes later, I had checked into my hotel, dropped off my stuff, and was ready to shop.

With my plan in place, I walked past that first store in search of something better. Yet, for some reason, something told me to go back, and I literally stopped in my tracks and turned around to go to that first store. The minute I was inside, it became clear why I was there. The first thing I saw was a butterfly t-shirt. Again, yes, there are many butterfly shirts in the world… but this one seemed to have a message for me. It said, “Eternal Soul. In the dark, look for the stars.”

I bought the t-shirt :).

The Magical Walking Stick

Over the course of the week, my walking stick felt like it had its own magic - it was as if my dad was walking there beside me. I leaned on it during our 19.4-mile walk that was 75% uphill and during the moments we dealt with downpours. At one point, I believe I used it to ward off a potential storm - the sky was blacker than black, and I turned to Tom, who I was walking with, and said, “JLA will fix this,” and I pointed the stick up to the sky in a very dramatic way - only half kidding, knowing JLA would be on the case. (Note: JLA is my dad’s nickname & initials, and the name my siblings and I often use to refer to him.) I proclaimed, “JLA, we cannot have any rain today.” Guess what? The clouds lightened shortly after my heavenly request, and soon we were walking in the sun. From that moment on, I honestly felt that the stick was almost like our group’s insurance policy - protecting us so that things would go our way - and for the most part, they did. The stick didn’t let us down, and I literally couldn’t shake that stick - even when I had a few careless moments during the week and forgot it at various stops. Once I left it hanging in a bathroom, and another time at a bar after getting our Pilgrim Passports stamped. Each time, someone in our group found the stick and returned it to me. (Pilgrims of the Day, I’m talking to you.)

I carried that stick all the way to the outskirts of Santiago and then handed it over to my brother, thinking he should escort JLA into the city. It was a quiet and emotional walk for all of us as we made our way toward the Cathedral, where we’d gather with other pilgrims also coming into Santiago that day… all celebrating the accomplishment of completing the Camino both happy and sad that the pilgrimage was coming to an end.

My brother bringing it into Santiago… with JLA by his side.

Also my brother - working on his swing outside the Cathedral. I know JLA would approve.

A Gathering of Pilgrims

Our last day in Santiago was a busy one. We got up early to head to a special mass at the Pilgrim’s Office near the cathedral. This daily 10:30 mass is said in English, and those who email ahead of time can request to have a mass said in memory of a loved one. I had requested the mass be said for my parents as well as the parents of others in our group. I was expecting a powerful and moving mass but was really unprepared for the enormity of the experience. Prior to mass, the priest asked everyone in the church to stand and report where they had come from and where they had started their Caminos. Pilgrims were there from Ireland, England, the Philippines, and various spots around the US. The introductions made us feel that our Camino Family had just grown by about 35 people, and a magical feeling of connectedness overtook us as mass started.

Glowing Signs Abound

Then came the mass, which we had not planned or given any special song requests. We had simply requested that it be said for our parents. In true Camino Magic, mass started with my mom and sister-in-law’s father’s favorite church song, “How Great Thou Art,” and ended with my dad’s favorite, “Amazing Grace.” We could all feel the presence of our loved ones during that mass. After mass, my brother, his wife, and two other couples in our group renewed their vows. During the ceremony, I glanced at the offertory candles and the box of extra candles below. On it, clear as day, was the brand name, “St. Killian’s,” - which coincidentally was my parents’ home parish. All signs pointed to them being with us as we remembered them.

Candles at the church bearing the same brand name as my parents’ parish, St. Kilian’s, in Hartford, Wisconsin.

The Last Sign that was Literally… A SIGN

Perhaps what was so emotional about that mass was that it was the point at which I truly reflected on everything I’d gone through to get to that point… both during the week of the actual Camino and in the years leading up to the Camino. My walking stick represented all of that to me, and I was so happy I had brought it, not lost it (!), and then had it with me at mass. After mass, our group dispersed for a few hours to explore Santiago. We had somewhat of a timeline to follow as we needed to be at a bus stop at precisely 5 to catch a bus to Finisterre, otherwise known as “the End of the World.”

Since I had a few hours to myself, I wanted to explore Santiago, grab some lunch, and then go back to my hotel to change before our bus ride. However, I was distracted as my phone was dying, and I needed it to lead me to my hotel and around in general. So, when I saw a cell phone shop, I rushed in & purchased a battery pack so I’d have more freedom to explore without worrying about my phone. I found a cheap but effective battery, paid, and left… totally starving and in need of a chance to sit down and refuel.

About an hour and a half later, I was back at my hotel, looking forward to relaxing and calling my husband. I decided to call first and quickly got into a story recounting the day, telling him I’d have to go soon as our group would be meeting in about an hour.

As I told him about the mass and taking the stick with me… I FROZE.

THE STICK! Where was the stick? In a panic, I scanned my small hotel room… not there. “OMG! My stick! I have to go!” I was out of my mind - how could I manage to get the stick to Spain, carry it for six days, and then LOSE IT at the most important moment?” I ran out of the room, trying to stay calm and think about where I could have left it. Then I remembered…

The Cell Phone Store.

I had leaned the stick up against the counter when I paid, even thinking to myself at the time, “Don’t forget this!”

And. I. Forgot. It.

This is a good point in the story to mention that any other normal person would calmly think, “I’ll just walk back to the store and get it.” But then there’s me, Directionless Donna, who gets lost in a paper bag. I quickly called my husband back, apologized for hanging up on him, and said, “You’ve got to lead me back to that store.” But what the hell was the name of the store?

I somehow miraculously found the receipt in my pocket and whipped it out to try and find the name. Of course, it was faded and somewhat illegible. Luckily at the same time, a perceptive and lovely woman appeared next to me and could tell I was losing it. Graciously ignoring the fact that I looked like a lunatic, she asked me in Spanish if I needed help. I’m still not sure if my rapid Spanish explanation of what had happened was miraculously spot-on or added to my nut-job status, but she got that I needed to know the name and location of the cell phone store. She recognized the store and then helped me look it up on my phone, so I could send it back to Mission Control and have my husband steer me there. (And yes, I realize I could’ve just entered it on my phone, which I did. But I needed someone to level me off a bit and get me on track.)

Ten minutes later, I was outside the store, praying I’d see the stick at the counter. As I entered, the clerk and I locked eyes. Then I looked where I had left it… IT WAS NOT THERE.

I quickly asked if he’d seen my stick, to which he calmly replied yes and pointed behind the counter, grabbed it, and handed it back to me.

With relief, I headed back to the hotel, realizing that I had barely any time at all to get ready for my journey to the End of the World, so the pressure was on me to get there fast. I hit the return route on my phone’s map and shared my location with my husband. If you’ve read this far, you understand why I did this. 

You'll also not be surprised when five minutes into my walk, I found myself on a street I’d never seen before, in a neighborhood that felt nothing like the urban route I’d previously traveled. Just as I was about to freak out, my husband called me with the revelation, “You are way off course.”

I thanked him for the newsflash and said I was going to stop and let my phone recalibrate. I looked across the street to see if I could find a street sign.

And I once again FROZE IN MY TRACKS. But this time, in a way where I wasn’t sure if I could move or speak.

“Eric. OMG.OMG.OMG.”

Meanwhile, my dear husband was freaking out on the other line, thinking I was getting held up or about to get hit by a bus.

I took a picture of what I saw - a nondescript office building with no flashy advertising or logos, only three letters- and sent it to him.

He replied with a simple, “OMG.”

JLA. JLA  was the signage on that building. Only it wasn't even really a sign, as it was just three letters hung on the corner. 

JLA, my dad’s initials, the name my siblings and I called him, the first part of his JLA151 pager handle when he practiced medicine.

I looked at that building, and with all of my being knew that it was the sign I had been looking for - my dad’s way of saying, “Hey, I sure was with you this whole time walking. I’m always here.” Stunned, I made my way back to my hotel and got ready to go to Finisterre, or the “End of the World.”

Pretty much the most blatant sign a girl could get. Thanks, JLA!

Last Stop, End of the World 

Stopping at the End of the World. 

Finisterre is a point that is as spiritual and magical as the Camino. It’s the spot where many pilgrims leave objects they’ve carried with them on the journeys as a means to let go of the things they’ve carried in their pre-Camino lives that they don’t want to take home.

I had carried two pilgrim shells made by my sister as a tribute to our parents. I left the shells next to the cross, reflecting on everything that had happened that week and over the past two years. An enormous sense of peace overcame me as I walked away. I knew, without a doubt, that my parents were okay and that our loved ones do live on. I also walked away, understanding that the magic of the Camino lies in the fact that it gives and shows us exactly what we need to travel our journeys through life, the biggest and most important Camino route of all.

Buen Camino, my friends.

My Camino Family!