The Camino Francés: Balancing Appreciation for Nature and the Inner Self

Walking on the first day of the Camino Francés

I left the picturesque town of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port a month ago when I stepped over the triangular Camino marker in the pavement and through the old Spanish Gate early on June 29.

It was my start of the Camino Francés, the renowned "French Way" to Santiago de Compostela. It is the most popular route among the complex network of ancient pilgrimage trails leading to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, a pattern of tracks that, with a bit of fantasy, resembles the lines of a Santiago shell, all leading to one central point. The path of approximately 780 km crosses the majestic Pyrenees mountains, where it enters Spain. Then it meanders through farmland, villages, nature, and historic cities like Pamplona, Burgos, Leon, and Astorga to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela.

Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port

Modern travelers on this route follow in the footsteps of countless pilgrims before them, and independent of our motivation, we become part of an enduring tradition that spans centuries. For some modern pilgrims, it is still a sacred path that is a gateway to profound spiritual experiences.

However, I think there is a much larger group that wouldn't classify their walking on the Camino as a strictly religious experience. And that is where it starts to get complicated since the overwhelming majority of the walkers I spoke to quickly added that this lack of religious motivation doesn't mean they walk this path as a tourist.

Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port

During long talks on the trail and in the evenings in the hostels, cafes, and restaurants, I often heard others explain how embarking on this journey had opened doors to new perspectives and a deeper appreciation for the beauty in the external world and the inner self. Walking the Camino may no longer be a religious rite to pass, but it doesn't mean it doesn't touch the hearts and minds of those who dare to walk this path, inviting introspection and a deeper connection with oneself.

Reconnecting to nature is hard to do in the summer of 2023 without a profound awareness of the worldwide large-scale and rapid destruction of our environment. And that forms, for some, me included, a challenge when we try to balance the appreciation for the external world and the inner self because you can't appreciate nature without asking questions about who is responsible for this large-scale destruction.

Sheep along the trail on the first day

Every day during the past month, I briefly scanned the news during a morning coffee at a far faster pace than my usual dedicated reading. Not a single day passed without seeing headlines about extreme weather events leading to massive wildfires, drought, heatwaves, and other disasters; some were quite close to where I was.

So what about that inner self? It leads to questions about our individual responsibility. The privilege of living in a time when we can still walk the Camino and see nature in a way that our children will most likely not be able to see it in the future comes with a moral responsibility to preserve this beautiful planet for the next generations.

My cooperation with Swiss Re, which I mentioned in earlier writing, should be seen in this context. Working with companies that use their knowledge and influence to research, inform, and develop practical, sustainable policies is, for me, one of the ways to find the balance between the appreciation for the external world and the inner self. To give one example of Swiss Re thought leadership of this last week, they support the largest debt for nature swap of its kind, which helps protect the Galapagos, one of the most important marine ecosystems on Earth.

But for each of us, there are different options: vote for parties that care about the environment, eat less meat, fly less, or you can make other sustainable decisions in your daily lives.

A two-minutes video

I have so many impressions and stories of the past month that I am unsure where to begin. So to organize my thoughts, I just returned to some of the thousands of photos and videos I took. I can't tell all stories, nor can I do so chronologically. Maybe I will do so in a book one day, but I would need far more time for a book than I have available now. So I will just make a selection of stories to share.

Let's start here: I found a recording of the Spanish guitar player at the Spanish Gate that I just mentioned; it is one of those landmarks on the route that all pilgrims who walked the Camino Francés will recognize. One of the many experiences on the Camino is the cultural richness you experience, from magnificent cathedrals to local artistic expressions; I try to welcome and appreciate them all in their wide variety. In this video, Trenchtown to Saint-Jean seems a bit far apart to bridge. Still, I enjoyed his playing, and we spoke for a long time after I recorded this song, only occasionally stopping when too many pilgrims passed between the two stone benches we were sitting on.

But briefly, before we go to the two-minute video: I used words like "walkers" and "pilgrims." To clarify, we are all addressed as "pilgrims," even on the road signs that warn drivers of pilgrims that may cross the road, as if we are a threatened species. But in numbers and biodiversity, our ranks are growing, which makes specifying us more complicated.

I consider myself a walker who is following an ancient trail. I respect the tradition, history, and religious experience that walking this path means, and has meant in the past 1200 years, for many; it all adds to its significance. I admire the architecture of the houses, the beauty of the churches, the cultural traditions, and the magnificence of evolution that I witness in nature.

And with that said, let's move to the short video impression, filmed in the evening before I started to walk. This guitar player from Tenerife was the first of the many people I enjoyed meeting in the past month. The inserted photos and videos give an impression of the first days of walking the Camino.

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