A Long-Time Coming Camino - JTs Tales From the Trail

Jill Thomas is a Rambler, traveler, and storyteller with a big laugh who thinks its funny how life leads you right where you need to be, however the roundabout path.

Walking a Camino alone is the sort of adventure I typically crave. I'm known to be brazen and fearless, and these characteristics are key to my identity. However, in recent years fear has eclipsed my boldness and relegated my bravery to the hinterlands while anxiety became a constant companion.

I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's because of my circumstances. Life has thrown me some mighty curve balls these last few years, and perhaps they altered me. Or maybe it's hormones or a natural part of growing older? Either way, I'm tired of it.

I crave my lost confidence and want to be brave and bold again. 

So, when I was given the opportunity to host the first Sole Sister Ramblers guided Camino in Spain, I jumped at the chance. I also decided to walk the Portuguese Camino from Porto to Santiago de Compostela directly afterwards solo. I’d been dreaming and planning on walking a Camino for years and decided now was the time.

Planning a Camino is thrilling . . . and honestly, a little terrifying. I was excited—but also deeply unsure. As the departure day got closer, that uncertainty bloomed into full-blown anxiety. I fretted about everything, including what to pack, whether I had the fitness to walk the distances, and about making my own travel arrangements.     


I felt unsettled about traveling without my hubby to plan everything. I could relate to an internet meme I'd recently seen about relationships in which one partner handles all the travel details—such as booking hotels and flights, navigating, and addressing any issues—while the other partner shows up and asks, "Where are we going again?"

The last time I planned my own travel or traveled solo, there was no Internet, and I felt paralyzed. Whenever I started to work on arrangements, anxiety caused me to procrastinate. I work online, so this situation is as ridiculous as it sounds. Anxiety is not always rational.

Finally, with no more time to procrastinate, a month prior to departure date, I sat beside Stormy as he impatiently walked me through the complexity of booking multi-leg plane tickets online. I immediately got frustrated and grumpily snapped at him to just do it for me, please. 

I also fretted about what to pack. I was obsessed with shoes, socks, rain gear, and exactly how few pieces of clothing I could bring knowing that for part of my journey I had to carry everything I owned on my back. I assured myself the blister tales I read online were exaggerated.

I thought a strict, demanding training plan was necessary—so I created one for our Sole Sister Rambler Virtual Camino Challenge. I was determined to follow it to the letter. But it turned out to be too ambitious, and I didn’t finish it.

I also tried walking 25 kilometers twice before the trip and couldn’t complete either. Cue the self-doubt. By the time I boarded a plane in Vancouver, I wasn’t confident I could even walk 25 kilometers once—let alone do it several days in a row.

I arrived in Santiago de Compostela at 11:30 p.m. Despite Stormy having warned the hotel I’d be late, there was no one there to check me in. The front door was locked tight. I called the number posted on the door, but no one answered. I knocked, then pounded. Eventually, someone shouted down from an upstairs window, threatening to call the police if I didn’t stop making so much noise.

Resigned to sleeping on the stoop, I sat down and called Stormy. I joked that if he were here, at least we’d have vodka. It cracked us up—instantly transporting us back to that time we arrived at a train station in the dusty desert town of Tozeur, Tunisia, at 1 a.m. with no hotel reservation. We wandered for miles through silent streets, Arabic signs our only guide, before giving up and sharing a bottle of vodka and a can of Orangina on a park bench until sunrise.

Eventually, a group of rowdy pilgrims—drunk on wine and the euphoria of finishing their Camino—showed up and punched in the hotel’s front door lock code. I slipped in behind them, climbed the stairs, found an empty room with an unlocked door, and collapsed into bed. The next morning, I explained the situation to the hotel manager. He shrugged and handed me a key to the room I was already sleeping in.

The next day was all mine and I spent it Rambling aimlessly through the enchanting streets of Santiago de Compostela—truly one of the most stunning cities I’ve ever visited. But my nerves were still getting the best of me. This journey felt monumental. I was here to host our first-ever Sole Sister Ramblers travel adventure—a milestone not just for me, but for the four longtime friends who had built this community with me.

As I wandered the cobbled lanes, I couldn’t help but reflect on how far we’d come since launching Sole Sister Ramblers just three years earlier. It felt beautifully fitting that our first official trip was a Camino.

The first spark for this community was lit when my dear friend Jane Witherspoon and I virtually walked the Camino de Santiago together—me in Florida, her in Spain during the pandemic lockdowns. That shared challenge, stretched across continents and time zones, planted the seed that would grow into something much bigger than either of us imagined.

We loved that experience so much, we invited more friends to join the next challenge. One walk led to another, and soon we had a merry little band of Ramblers logging daily walks and sharing stories in a lively Messenger chat we called Sole Sister Ramblers.

When our group grew too big, five of us (Jill Morris, Tara Romoff, Naomi Weisman, Jane Witherspoon and myself) decided to launch a Facebook group to welcome more women into the fold. Back then, our goal was to create a joy-filled space to walk and cheer each other on. None of us could have imagined where it would lead. Today, we’ve built a global community that connects and empowers tens of thousands of women in midlife and beyond—online and in real life.

During the pandemic lockdowns, many of us discovered the comfort and clarity that daily walking could bring. I didn’t know then that this simple habit would become something I’d share not just with my closest friends, but with women all over the world. Not even my overactive imagination could have predicted just how much walking would change—and enrich—my life.

I see Sole Sister Ramblers as a love letter to the friendships among myself and my fellow founders—a bond that continues to deepen in ways I’m still learning to understand. That said, I’m not here to play Pollyanna. It’s not easy. All of us are overwhelmed in building and managing this community. There have been plenty of moments when each one of them has wanted to throttle me—and, on lesser occasions, me them. I have to continually remind myself daily that friendship—not success or glory—is what centers Sole Sister Ramblers.

That reminder remains on my computer notepad and I read it every day:

"I have chosen the people I am doing this with intentionally because they are part of the expression of what Sole Sister Ramblers is—and what lies ahead. I will strive to allow this project to flow with ease and grace. I will embrace a resetting of priorities, focusing on what truly matters: creating something beautiful with friends I truly adore."

I admit, I fail at this more often than I succeed. But I’m committed to it, nonetheless.

Today, our Facebook group is approaching 30,000 members. Over 15,000 Sole Sisters are connected in real life through dozens of Sole Circles in countries around the world. Hundreds more are improving their health and well-being through our Virtual Ramblers’ Challenges.

How did we get here? Honestly, it feels like we simply followed the breadcrumbs left behind by our fellow Ramblers. And, through it all, Rambling has become so much more than just walking. It’s becoming how many of us now move through the world—step by step, heart first.

The next day, I would meet my Camino companions and Sole Sisters from around the world and my Camino adventure would finally begin. It felt overwhelmingly momentous and would turn out to be life changing. 

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