Ruth O'Leary is a bestselling author based in Dublin, Ireland. When she’s not writing, she works as a film extra, taking on a wide range of roles—from Viking women to nuns. Her guiding motto: “You’re never too old, and it’s never too late.”
The first time I questioned my sanity for walking the Camino as a solo female, I hadn’t even left Dublin. Sitting in the airport, waiting to board my flight to Santiago de Compostela, I felt completely underprepared.
Unlike many people who plan months—sometimes years—in advance, I had booked my flights and accommodation just three weeks earlier. I’d done some research, watched Camino walker videos on YouTube, and joined a few Facebook groups where I asked all my rookie questions.
Eventually, I picked my dates, booked my flights and guesthouses independently, and arranged a taxi transfer from the airport through the first guesthouse in Sarria. Since I was traveling alone and it’s a one-hour-and-twenty-minute drive, booking the transfer in advance gave me peace of mind.
For the true pilgrim experience, many stay in albergues—dormitory-style hostels. But I value my sleep, so I booked private rooms through Booking.com, which were surprisingly affordable.
The purpose of my trip was neither religious nor a hiking challenge. I had decided the Camino would be the perfect setting for my next novel, A Week to Remember. But I knew I couldn’t write about it authentically unless I experienced it myself.
So, traveling light, I boarded the Aer Lingus flight with a backpack, a pair of €12 walking poles, and three fictional female characters in my head, ready to begin an unforgettable journey. Although I’m a daily walker, my usual route in North Dublin is completely flat. The Camino... let’s just say those cheap walking poles turned out to be invaluable.
I walked the final section of the Camino Francés—Sarria to Santiago—a popular 115-kilometre route for those with just a week to spare. It qualifies for the Compostela certificate as long as you collect two stamps per day in your Camino passport.
On that first morning, with a mixture of nerves and excitement, I set off just before 8 a.m. I left my main backpack for the transfer service and decided to walk until I was either hungry or tired.
Many pilgrims carry their own gear for flexibility, but I didn’t have the luxury of time. Using a luggage transfer service allowed me to walk freely—and it's a common choice, especially for those with injuries, hip issues, or sore knees.
The moment I stepped into the crisp mountain air, fellow walkers greeted me with “Buen Camino”—a respectful pilgrim-to-pilgrim greeting.
I didn’t need a map. The path is clearly marked with yellow arrows on walls and footpaths, and by mojones—stone markers topped with the blue-and-yellow scallop shell symbol and the distance remaining to Santiago.
That first day I walked 21 kilometres through countryside, farmland, forests, and tiny hamlets. Five hours later, I reached the town of PortomarĂn, where 57 Roman steps awaited me at the entrance. Despite my burning legs, I climbed the steps and was rewarded with stunning views over the river and forest treetops. Tired but elated, I sat in the shade outside a small bar on the main street and ordered a cold beer to celebrate.
That evening, while wandering through the town, I bumped into Michelle—a Dublin woman I had walked with earlier. She introduced me to other pilgrims, many of whom had been walking for over three weeks. We shared a lively dinner in the late evening sun, and our paths continued to cross throughout the rest of the Camino.
The next morning, I set off earlier. I have beautiful memories of walking through eucalyptus forests at dawn, the only sounds being footsteps and the click of walking poles. As the sun rose over the treetops, casting golden shadows on the forest floor, it lifted my spirits as I tackled the first incline of the day.
Breakfasts of mountain-top café con leche, toast, and Tarta de Santiago kept me going, as did the company of strangers who soon became friends. After 23 kilometres, I reached Palas de Rei in time for a late lunch and an early night.
Day three was the hardest. My body ached, and I questioned again what I was doing. I reminded myself I didn’t have to walk the entire way—I was there to soak in the atmosphere and gather notes for my novel. I told myself I’d walk to breakfast and decide afterward whether to take a taxi to the next town.
After a hearty breakfast of chorizo omelette and toast, I sat outside the café, torn. That’s when a Japanese woman asked for help adjusting her backpack. We struck up a conversation. She was tired of carrying the load, and I was feeling worn out too. We decided to walk together for a bit—and ended up walking and talking the rest of the day.
They say, “The Camino provides.” That day, it brought us together. Through shared conversation and laughter, we encouraged each other to keep going—one step at a time.
That evening in ArzĂşa, sitting in the sun with new friends in the tree-lined square, I finally began to feel the magic of the Camino: the camaraderie, the kindness of strangers, and the shared journey.
By day four, my body had started to adjust. My knees were sore and my toes bruised, but the cool forest paths lifted my mood. I walked 20.5 kilometres to O Pedrouzo, stopping at mountaintop taverns to rest and refresh. It took me six hours in total, and the day flew by.
On the final morning, I set off at 6 a.m. I wanted to experience the forest waking up in the dark. You’re never truly alone on the Camino—some pilgrims start walking as early as 5 a.m. with head torches. There’s a quiet camaraderie among walkers from around the world. A mystical energy lingers in the air, knowing you’re walking a path trodden by pilgrims since the 9th century.Â
Leaving behind the peaceful forests for the busy streets of Santiago De Compostela felt surreal. But there was electricity in the air as I approached Cathedral Square. A lone piper played, welcoming us. The stunning architecture, the joy, and the tears on pilgrims’ faces—some who had walked for over four weeks—was both uplifting and emotional.
I walked the Camino seeking inspiration for my characters, but I found so much more along the ancient path. I know I’ll return someday to walk the hills of Galicia again.
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