Learning to Become Pilgrims : Reflecting on Saint Jean Pied de Port to Burgos

 Reflecting on the Camino Francés from Saint Jean Pied de Port to Burgos

“One of the gifts that the Camino offers is the freedom to be yourself. This freedom is liberating.”

Jane V. Blanchard

When we left Saint Jean Pied de Port, we had never really undertaken a continuous long-distance walk like the Camino Francés before. We had read guidebooks, watched videos and tried to prepare, but none of that told us how our packs would feel after hours of climbing, how our feet would respond to walking every day or what it would be like to sleep each night among strangers in albergues.

The route of the Camino Francés began by leading us directly into the Pyrenees, before we had learned any of the routines that would soon shape our days for the next month.  But by the time we had reached Burgos, roughly 286 kilometres later, we had crossed the mountains, walked through Navarra and La Rioja, come to terms with albergue life and begun to recognize familiar faces along the path. Make no mistake, we were still new to long-distance walking and still uncertain of what the remaining journey would ask of us. But this first section of the Camino Frances had begun to turn pilgrimage from something we had imagined into a beloved daily routine.

Beginning in Saint Jean Pied de Port

There is no denying that the beautiful town of Saint Jean Pied de Port provides a dramatic beginning to the Camino Frances pilgrimage. Its old streets, stone bridge, pilgrim office and steady flow of people wearing backpacks, making their way from the train to their albergue, make it unmistakably a Camino town. Travelling there from Paris, receiving our credentials and joining other nervous walkers gave our pilgrimage an official starting point, but that certainly did not make us feel prepared for what came next.

We chose to divide the crossing of the Pyrenees by stopping at Orisson after only eight kilometres. On paper, that looks like an extremely short first day. But being untested and uncertain, it felt like the right thing to do regardless. The climb out of SJPP began almost immediately and continued through mist, rain and changing views across the hills. Stopping early gave us time to adjust to our packs, enjoy the landscape and meet many of the people also setting out.

This was one of the first things the Camino taught us: a short distance can still be a full day. At the time, we had very little experience by which to judge what eight mountain kilometres with loaded packs might mean. The numbers in the guidebook could not describe the climbing, the weather or the strain (both physical and mental) of doing everything for the first time.

Crossing the Pyrenees

The Pyrenees had been presented to us as one of the great physical tests of the Camino Francés, and the climb was harder than we expected. Yet it was also one of the most memorable parts of the entire pilgrimage. Mist moved across the slopes, rain gathered on spiderwebs and fences, and wild horses and livestock appeared out of the cloud. Yellow arrows and red and white route blazes reassured us that we were still heading in the right direction even when the wider landscape disappeared.

After Orisson, the route continued upward before crossing into Spain and descending toward Roncesvalles. The weather made the forests feel mystical and almost timeless, but the long line of pilgrims reminded us that this was never a solitary wilderness trek. In this way, almost from the very beginning, we were increasingly aware that to set out on Camino was to be part of a moving community - even when everyone climbed at a different pace and carried a different reason for being there, we were all still headed in the same direction.

In Roncesvalles, we joined hundreds of other pilgrims who would sleep beneath the same roof, attend the pilgrim mass and eat dinner alongside before trying to rest amid coughing, snoring, and the restless sounds of a large dormitory. It was an impressive and memorable welcome to Spain and an equally effective introduction to the joys and compromises of communal accommodation.

Learning the Daily Rhythm

Beyond Roncesvalles, the Camino wove down trails, through wet forests and small villages toward Zubiri, then continued through the changing countryside to Pamplona. Each morning began with the sounds of packs being opened, sleeping bags being rolled, and pilgrims preparing to leave. Some people departed in darkness. Others lingered until the albergue required everyone to go.

Over these first days, we gradually developed our own rhythm of hiking each day and adapted to the routines of the Camino. We would leave early enough in the morning to enjoy the cooler hours, stop for a café con leche and something to eat, walk until early or mid-afternoon, then find a bed, shower, wash our clothes and explore wherever we had landed. The sequence sounds simple (and it is), but almost every part and each day depended on what was available. A cafe might be closed, a fountain might not be working or not potable, the albergue might already be full, or the next town might be farther away than expected.

This uncertainty is part of the Camino experience. It can be freeing to reduce each day to walking, eating, washing and finding somewhere to sleep. It can also become tiring when every decision affects your feet, how the weight on your back feels, your budget and whether you will have a bed that night. From SJPP to Burgos, we were still learning when to keep walking and when to accept that we had done enough.

Albergues and the Race for the Beds

There seemed to be an extraordinary network of pilgrim accommodation along the Camino Francés, but before setting out and in the early stages we had little notion of how much faith to place in it. Rumours about full albergues travelled quickly along the path. The sight of other pilgrims ahead could make us wonder whether we should walk faster, skip a break or continue beyond the town we had intended to reach.  Hours were spent counting those we could see and examining our guidebook, attempting to figure out whether there would be bunks ahead.  Thankfully we had few challenges in this area. 

Our accommodation ranged from the enormous dormitory at Roncesvalles to municipal and private albergues, hostels, a monastery hospedería and the occasional private rooms. Each offered a different version of Camino life. Some places brought everyone together around a table. Others provided little more than a bunk, a shower, and a clothing line outside. The most memorable were not necessarily the most comfortable, but were often the places where a hospitalero welcomed us kindly or where an unexpected conversation continued over dinner or after a few glasses of wine.

With all of that said, there is no denying that the so-called “race for a bed” can easily begin to control the day. Looking back, we understand the worry, especially when heat, fatigue or injury makes walking farther difficult. We also recognize how quickly that fear can pull attention away from the reason for being there. Planning matters, but walking every day as though everyone else is a competitor changes the Camino in ways that have little to do with pilgrimage.

Pamplona and the Alto del Perdón

Reaching Pamplona brought us abruptly from wooded paths and quiet villages into a busy modern city. The Camino entered through historic streets and offered churches, plazas, shops and the practical services that pilgrims invariably need. But after days spent walking in nature and staying in quiet albergues, the traffic and crowds felt surprisingly loud. 

Leaving Pamplona led us toward one of the route's most recognizable places, the Alto del Perdón. The climb brought open views and the iconic line of metal pilgrims crossing the ridge. It was one of those locations we had seen so often in books, photographs, and of course, Martin Sheen’s movie “The Way”, that arriving there felt both exciting and oddly familiar.

The descent toward Puente la Reina demanded more attention than the monument. Loose stone and a steep grade made the way down hard on knees and feet, particularly with a full pack. This became another recurring Camino lesson: the celebrated summit is often only the midpoint of the day's work. What follows may be more difficult than the climb.  Certainly for us, trekking downhill has always been more challenging than struggling up to the summit.

Navarra and La Rioja

From Puente la Reina through Estella, Los Arcos, Viana, Logroño, Navarrete and Nájera, the Camino passed vineyards, fields, old bridges, churches and compact towns built around plazas and narrow streets. As we progressed westward, the landscape became drier and more open, while the heat increasingly shaped when and how far we walked.

La Rioja was wine country, and the vineyards gave the route a strong regional character. We encountered the famous wine fountain near Estella, passed bodegas and watched the colours and textures of the agricultural land change around us. Yet even in these attractive surroundings, much of our attention remained practical. We watched for shade, water, arrows and places where we could take off our packs for a few minutes and sit comfortably.

Waymarking was generally plentiful. Yellow arrows, shells, and roadside markers led us easily through the countryside, although entering and leaving larger cities required closer attention. The Camino is relatively easy to follow until an arrow disappears at the exact intersection where it is most needed. Other pilgrims can offer reassurance, but a group moving confidently in one direction is not proof that anyone at the front saw a marker.  More than once – like lemmings – we blindly followed a group who had also stopped paying attention.

Heat Roads and Hard Surfaces

For all of its idyllic stretches, the first section of the Camino Francés cannot be reduced to simply woodland trails, mountain paths and vineyard tracks. It also included pavement, roadsides, suburban approaches and hard surfaces that became tiring after hours of walking. Heat and humidity magnified their effect. The result being that we began leaving our albergues earlier, carrying more water and using whatever shade we could find during the middle of the day. The goal was to get as much done when it was cooler and be off the Way when the midday temperatures became (to us) unrelenting.

Approaches to major cities were rarely the most beautiful parts of the route. Pamplona, Logroño and Burgos all required us to move through modern development, commercial zones, and neighbourhoods before reaching their historic centres. While these stretches are part of the Camino, linking village paths to modern cities, they can feel long when your feet hurt and the albergue you are seeking remains out of sight.

The Pilgrim Community, The Trail Family

At Orisson, pilgrims introduced themselves and spoke about where they came from and why they were walking. Those conversations continued in different forms all the way to Burgos. We repeatedly met Canadians, Americans, Australians, Europeans and people who had travelled much farther than us to reach the beginning. Some were walking for faith, some through grief or transition, and others because the Camino had called to them without providing a clear explanation.

En route, and day by day, people “disappeared” and reappeared according to their pace, rest days, interests, and injuries. A person who shared dinner one night might be gone before dawn and never seen again within the group we were hiking among.  Alternatively, someone we assumed was days ahead could suddenly be sitting at the next cafe. This loose community of new friends became one of the defining features of the Camino. It did not require everyone to walk together, merely an understanding that the undertaking was equal parts communal as well as independent.

With that said, the number of people on the Camino also meant that there were frustrations as well. Dormitories could be noisy, colds and stomach flues spread easily, and not every pilgrim or hospitalero behaved with patience. The Camino does not automatically make everyone considerate. It does, however, place people in circumstances where small acts of consideration become unusually visible and greatly appreciated.

Reaching Burgos

The approach to Burgos took us through the village of Agés, past Atapuerca and eventually into the industrial and suburban edge of the city. The route offered choices for entering Burgos, but none could disguise the fact that reaching the historic centre required persistence. After the open countryside, traffic, crowds, and pavement made the final kilometres feel longer than expected.

The reward, however, outweighed the challenges – the cathedral in Burgos made it all worth it. Its scale, detail and place at the centre of the city gave Burgos the feeling of having reached a true threshold on the Camino. We stayed in Burgos for a rest day, giving ourselves time to explore and allowing our bodies to recover before continuing on and beginning the Meseta between Burgos and Leon.

By Burgos we were no longer wondering what a day on the Camino might involve. We understood the daily sections, the albergues, the search for food and water, and the way friendships could develop while walking beside someone for only an hour. We had also learned that experience did not make the route predictable. It simply gave us more confidence in our ability to respond when the day did not go (or go as easily) as planned.

What We Would Tell Those Coming Next

If asked at Burgos – after 13 days hiking the Camino Frances - what had helped us most, we would have begun with our decision to divide the Pyrenees rather than walk from Saint Jean Pied de Port to Roncesvalles in one day. We would also have suggested keeping a pack as light as possible, beginning gently and allowing room to adjust when heat, fatigue or accommodation changed the day. We were hardly Camino experts, but we already understood how easily an overambitious beginning could affect everything that followed.

We were also learning to resist rumours about beds and the temptation to match someone else's pace. Knowing the alternatives and carrying enough water and food gave us choices, but we did not always manage our worries well. Sometimes we hurried when we could have stopped, and sometimes we concentrated so intently on the next arrow or albergue that we forgot to look around us.  These were mistakes, but you only learn by doing – and the Camino is a terrific teacher.

The route from Saint Jean Pied de Port to Burgos is physically varied and culturally rich, but its greatest importance may be that it teaches pilgrims how to continue. By the time the towers of Burgos Cathedral rose ahead of us, the Camino had moved beyond an idea. It had become the pattern of our days, and we felt confident that we were ready to continue on.

See you on the Trail!