Two years ago, I set out to walk the Portuguese Coastal Path of the Camino de Santiago. I landed in Porto on Tuesday August 6th to acclimate myself before stepping onto the path on Saturday morning. Now I look at the artifacts from that journey, the cards and presents of encouragement, the log of my preparatory walks with a loaded backpack, and my journal entries of my hopes and fears. I’d planned to walk the Camino with a group of three other women. A month before we were to leave, I received an email from the trip organizer, Mary Maddox (Prayerful Path) saying they’d all backed out. I would go on another Solo Journey — my 18th.

One of the treasures of traveling is remembering the journey long after it ends. Each morning before heading out, I reviewed the day’s route, read the devotional, and prayed for God to bless me and the people in my path. At the end of the day, I journaled about the discoveries, the challenges, the joys of that day’s journey. Now, that devotional and journal is a treasure that I can reread and remember how I experienced each day.

Many people walk the Camino with a mission. For some there’s a decision they’re trying to make; for others it may be an act of penance; and still others may walk to honor someone or mark a milestone. For me, there wasn’t some big reason. I’d had the desire to do the Camino since seeing the movie The Way in 2012. A contemplative walk for an extended time would be an experience like hiking the Appalachian Trail — but not as lengthy or as physically challenging — at least not the route I’d take. Mine was for fourteen days covering 158 miles from Porto, Portugal to Santiago, Spain. My quest was to look at my life and see if there was anything I needed to change. My prayer became, “God, am I doing the things I need to be doing at this point in my life? If not, show me what I should do instead.”

I was so glad I’d allowed for a few days in Porto — a UNESCO World Heritage center. I fell in love with all the colorful tiles that permeate that city. My first impression of the vibrance of Porto was my hotel room.

How exciting to walk the cobblestone streets and smell pastel de nata, that traditional egg custard tart with the flaky pastry shell and caramelized center. Just two blocks from my lodging was the breathtaking Chapel of St. Caterina that featured azulejos tiles, with their Chinese porcelain influence as well as Dutch blue. I went back at different times of day to see the sun spotlighting various portions of the building.

The one task I had to complete before I started the Camino was to get my Pilgrim’s passport. It would be stamped along the way in order to earn my Compostela certificate. That document was proof of completion and required walking 100 kilometers or about 62 miles of an official route. I purchased mine at the Porto Cathedral. Now I remember that first day in the city as a wonderful adventure in a country that looked so different from North Carolina. The next day I walked further and crossed the Douro River to enjoy the shops and restaurants at the water’s edge.

Seeing the purple morning glories that were growing wild in vacant lots reminded me of those in my patio garden at home.

I had a few days of a leisurely pace: stopping to talk with storekeepers, eating fresh calamari and drinking a glass of port, talking to the painter of the water color below. My paced changed when I stepped onto the Camino. I had to keep moving to reach my pre-arranged lodging each evening. It was a relief that it was booked, especially in that busy August travel season, but it didn’t allow for the spontaneity I most enjoy on a solo journey.

Over the next 14 days, I plan to remember that journey from two summers ago. What new insights will I have that needed time to emerge? How did that experience change me?

I wonder if you have a travel experience that you need to go back and re-examine. How has time changed your perspective? I’d love for you to comment about your discoveries as you look back.

Best to you as you go on new adventures and return to those that were meaningful in the past.

Connie