April 6–12, 2025
Route: León to Villafranca del Bierzo
Total Distance Walked: 125 km / 78 miles
Highlights: Cruz de Ferro, reconnecting with friends, deep emotional reflection
The Journey Continues
This week, I walked from León to Villafranca del Bierzo, covering 125 kilometers (about 78 miles). The flat openness of the Meseta gave way to rolling hills again, and the trail began to take on a new kind of gravity as the final third of the Camino came into view. The path was stunning, but what shaped this week more than the terrain was what I carried with me.
A Personal Note
While walking this week, I received news of the passing of someone I was very close to during my childhood. Out of respect for privacy, I won’t share names or details, but I will say this: some people become quiet anchors in our memories; steady, strong, and always there. He was one of those for me during childhood, and even more so for his immediate family who I care for deeply.
As kids, we often see adults as immovable & superhuman in their constancy. My grandmother and father were pillars in my life, and their loss reshaped me in ways I’m still learning to understand.
He wasn’t one of my primary pillars, but he absolutely was for his family. His passing unlocked a flood of old memories from playing video games at his house with his son, caravanning with 15+ people to Colorado on ski trips, the summer I helped lay irrigation pipe on his farm.
Earlier in this journey, I wrote about how the Camino gives us the emotional bandwidth to carry old memories we’d set down. This was one of those moments. To those mourning him now, I may not be there with you in body, but I’m sending all my love from this quiet trail in Spain.
RIP.
The Cruz de Ferro
Midway through the week, I reached one of the most significant emotional and symbolic places on the Camino, the Cruz de Ferro (Iron Cross). It marks the highest point on the Camino Frances, and for many pilgrims, it’s a ritual site.
Traditionally, each pilgrim carries a small stone from their home, something that represents a burden, a memory, or a weight they wish to leave behind. At the base of the cross, we lay our stones and with them, something else… our grief, guilt, sorrow, hope.
It’s a quiet place. People move slowly. Some cry. Some hug. Some leave tokens instead of stones. I left mine and walked away.
Words Along the Way
The Camino has this strange, wonderful way of placing words in your path when you need them most. This week, I came across two that stayed with me:
“The boat is safer anchored at the port; but that’s not the aim of boats.”
“Each time you say ‘ok’ you change your reality’s perception. Don’t worry, you’ll be truly loved, even though you disagree.”
Both felt like reminders to keep leaning in, even when things are uncertain. Especially then.
Looking Ahead
Four weeks in. Just a little more to go.
I’m walking a little slower, not because of the blister, but because I don’t want to rush this. The laughter, the meals, the glances between pilgrims who’ve been walking beside one another for weeks… it’s all starting to feel like something I’ll miss.
I’m trying not to hold too tightly, but to be present in what’s still unfolding.
More miles. More stories. More heart.
