The Camino Experience: Exploring Nature, Climate Change, and Global Connections

Let me tell you about my third day on the Camino Frances, on the first of July, which I remember as a day with ideal walking conditions, neither scorching like last year during one of the heatwaves of that summer nor cold as just days earlier in the thick fog on the trail across the Pyrenees mountains.

This day, I woke up near the beautiful bridge over the Arga River in Zubiri to walk to Pamplona. After having passed an enormous magnesium oxide factory that seemed a strange misfit on the Camino, I spent the rest of the day mostly in nature, with all its splendor, which sometimes felt so untouched that I could easily imagine how pilgrims many centuries before me stepped on the same path along the river as I walked this week.

Majestic horses grazed lazily in meadows, while a bit further, a flock of inquisitive geese guarded their domain with a welcoming chorus.

Colorful wildflowers adorned the countryside, and bees and insects I had never seen shared my fascination for these diverse plants.

Pilgrims look for solace and inspiration, but I was increasingly and painfully reminded that the first part of the Camino is often described as the part where you focus on the body. I sometimes envy the 20 and 30-year-olds that seem to follow the Camino as a walk in the park.

But I enjoyed every minute of my Camino; I stumbled upon traditional farms that seemed to have emerged from the pages of history, reminding me of the bond between man and land that has sustained us through the ages. Passing them and the green fields along the Camino, I wonder if agriculture will also be able to sustain us in the future, when demand for food increases but the area of arable land will decline for several reasons, one of them being climate change.

Water will be another challenge. Will this lush path remain as green as it is now when water scarcity increases in many places worldwide? You may recall that I wrote about the UN World Water Development Report, released during the World Water Conference I attended in March at the UN in New York City. It stated that nearly 1 billion people live in cities without enough water. That number is expected to rise to between 1.7 billion and 2.4 billion during the next 30 years. By 2050, the demand for urban water is expected to rise by 80%.

Following the Arga River

In the same week, groundbreaking research was released by the Global Commission on the Economics of Water. The commission projected that by 2030, less than seven years from now, there would be a 40% increase in demand over supply for fresh water.

Due to climate change, the frequency and impact of droughts are expected to increase and worsen the already difficult situation for millions of farmers worldwide. Add to this man-made problem the natural phenomenon of El Nino, and there is a lot of bad news about extreme weather events to be expected this year and in 2024. Yesterday, the World Meteorological Organization said that temperatures are expected to soar across large parts of the world after the El Nino weather pattern emerged in the tropical Pacific for the first time in seven years.

We can't prevent the natural El Nino/La Nina events, but we should do all we can to avoid adding to climate change by emitting more carbon into the atmosphere. And just avoiding contributing to climate change is not enough. We must everywhere aim to predict, prepare for, and prevent climate change impacts. Re/insurers, such as Swiss Re, can support agricultural mitigation and adaptation strategies to climate change impacts, helping farmers reduce the volatility of their income and make the necessary investments in their production.

Yellow arrows guide me, and millions before me, to Santiago de Compostela

I continued my walk, guided by the Santiago shells, the Camino signs, and the omnipresent yellow arrows. I walked with an American toy designer, accompanied by his wife and daughter. We ascended the path together, engaging in conversations that bridged borders and cultures. Through his tales of living in China, I glimpsed a world where I hadn't set foot since 1989, except for the occasional stopover, which I mainly remember as trying in vain to access my social media accounts. His tales expanded my horizons with insight and nuances.

But as the day wore on, our paths diverged, and I forged ahead, joining the ever-shifting diverse group of fellow travelers. Curiously, our section of the Camino seemed to lack the hordes of pilgrims commonly encountered each summer. A café owner said the path teemed with pilgrims a mere week prior, making securing a bed in a hostel challenging. Perhaps my choice to commence my pilgrimage on a Thursday played a role, as Sunday and Monday are likely more favored.

Yet, despite our modest numbers, or maybe because of it, a remarkable friendship developed among us, often referred to as a Camino family. I daily see my newfound friends from countries like South Africa, Colombia, Belgium, the United States, Italy, and Germany during our shared rituals of pausing for coffee, where we shamelessly take off our shoes and socks to let our feet dry while enjoying our drinks. Over the past eight years, my transformation from diplomatic life to digital pilgrim has brought about quirks and peculiarities.

We have discovered a bond that transcends individual differences. Like any family, our connections vary in strength, but the collective pilgrimage experience creates an unbreakable tie between us all.

The impressive city walls of Pamplona

With the afternoon sun waning, I arrived in the vibrant city of Pamplona, a place teeming with life. Many visitors had descended upon the ancient town, lured by the mystique of the San Fermin festival, immortalized by Ernest Hemingway. They came for the spectacular bull run, a fusion of exhilaration and danger. While I admire Hemingway as a great author, our paths diverge regarding our appreciation of such spectacles. I empathize with the frightened animals and find the festival a reason to leave this favorite city of mine.

Yet, I owe Hemingway a debt of gratitude, for it was his Fiesta, the Sun Also Rises, that long ago convinced me to witness the allure of Pamplona. More than three decades had passed since I first turned the pages of his work when I finally visited this magnificent city for the first time in 2015. However, it wasn't the bull runs that captivated me on my first day in the city eight years ago, but rather a chance encounter.

I remember watching a weary pilgrim hobble through the doors of a former church transformed into a humble hostel. His weathered face showed the many miles he must have traveled. I will never know who he was, but I still remember the expression in his eyes that showed a mixture of peace and determination. I believe it was at that moment that the seed of fascination for the Camino de Santiago was planted deep within me.

When I left Pamplona in 2015, seated comfortably in my air-conditioned rental car, I saw more of these pilgrims through the window. Their steadfast determination to continue under the sweltering sun spoke volumes of the pilgrimage they had embarked upon. Since then, the desire to join their ranks lingered within me, biding its time, while I could never clearly express why I would wish to undertake such an adventure.

Last summer, after years of hesitation and a pandemic, the Camino finally became my companion, guiding me through the picturesque landscapes of northern Spain to Santiago de Compostela.

So initially, it was Hemingway who beckoned me to Pamplona all those years ago with his eloquent prose. Interestingly, he was followed by an unknown pilgrim who stepped into a former church on his way to the Cathedral of Pamplona, influencing me to embark on my own personal Camino to Santiago.

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