Leslie is 65 and lives in Toronto, Canada. She is a lifelong lover of travel, hiking, books, and a
good physical challenge. Along with her identical twin sister Cynthia, she co-founded
Twinagers, a social media community dedicated to honest conversations about aging,
staying curious and making the most of this stage of life.
13 days. 275 km. 357,377 steps. 6 blisters. 1 pair of broken eyeglasses. And a whole lot that can’t be measured.
A note from Santiago for anyone contemplating this journey.
The Camino had been on my list for years. I've always been active and loved a physical challenge, but it had been a long time since I'd set myself a completely new goal. In fact, my last two big ones were climbing Kilimanjaro with my father when I was 25, followed by a Nepalese hike in my 30s! Now, at 65, I felt it was time to do something just for me. Something that would push me physically, take me out of my daily routine, and give me the space to let my mind wander. I wanted to see what I could do, but also what I might discover along the way.
Here are my reflections
First and foremost, walk your own Camino.
Don’t compare yourself to anyone else. There are so many people here, of all ages, shapes, sizes, and nationalities, walking for so many different reasons. Everyone carries a story.
From the 81-year-old grandmother walking to meet her granddaughter to the university student from Louisiana, I loved the brief conversations with people along the way and the reminder that none of us was walking exactly the same journey.
I walked with a friend I’ve known for over 40 years. We talked, we grimaced, and we may have whined a tad. But we respected each other’s needs the whole way and made it to the end still laughing and with a pretty great sense of accomplishment.
We used luggage transfers. One of us stopped constantly to take scenery photos, and the other stopped to smell the flowers. We did it our way. And that’s the point. It’s not a race, and you don’t have to walk anyone else’s Camino.
It was hot, so we started early. At times, it simply was about putting one foot in front of the other, always on the lookout for that next little yellow arrow. Even so, we got lost more times than I can count, especially at the beginning, and took plenty of unnecessary steps and logged a few unwanted kilometres. But that little yellow arrow doesn’t tell the whole story, because some days are easy and others are hard enough to make you wonder why you ever chose this.
If you go, talk to the person you keep passing. Stop and notice the little things, and keep your mind open. Go with the flow and embrace whatever comes. Looking back, I wouldn’t wish the hard days away, as there was something to learn from those too. Life isn’t always easy. We lose our way. We adjust. We keep moving. And every step, the good ones and the hard ones, belongs to our own journey.
I know these are all clichés, but the Camino brought every one of them to life for me.
What surprised me most was just how hard it was to walk those distances day after day. I knew it would be physically demanding, but the cumulative fatigue was something else.
What I hadn't expected was the kindness. The little conversations, the encouragement, the genuine interest people showed in one another. So many small interactions that reminded me how much we have in common. The world could use more of that.
I also confirmed something I've always suspected about myself. I'm a homebody! Thirteen different beds in thirteen days were a bit much, even for someone who loves an adventure.
And finally, a special mention for my greatest Camino discovery: toe socks. They may not be pretty, but they helped get me to Santiago. My two favourite things by the end: yellow arrows and toe socks.
READ MORE > Ramble Log, Rambler Cafe Blog
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