The Camino Primitivo

A Walk That Rewired My Rhythm

​When I decided to walk the Camino Primitivo, it wasn’t for a big spiritual awakening or a midlife “find yourself” quest. Honestly, it was logistics.
A full route - Oviedo to Santiago.
Two weeks - just enough time off before getting back to teaching yoga and VA work.
And it ticked my usual boxes: short, steep, beautiful, challenging. Perfect.

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But life had other plans (doesn’t it always?).
Those yoga classes I was rushing back for? Canceled.
One of my longest VA clients? Business sold, work gone.

​So instead of walking on schedule, I was walking it out.
All the endings, the questions, the weird sense of freedom that comes when your plans fall apart - they came with me in that backpack. And somewhere between the rain, the sweat, and the silence, the Camino started to shift from “trip” to therapy with better views.

The First Steps
Those first days were pure adrenaline. Fresh legs, way-too-heavy backpack, heart wide open. Every corner looked like a postcard. Every café con leche felt like a miracle. I moved like I do on the mat - with excitement, curiosity, and a little chaos. Like we barely found an accomodation for the first night/stage of the trail.

It was messy, magical, and very human.

And as the trail rolled through green valleys, stone villages, and endless hills, I realized this walk wasn’t about covering distance. It was about remembering what presence actually feels like.

The Middle Bit (aka Where the Real Practice Starts)
By the middle, the buzz wore off and the practice began.
Wake. Walk. Eat. Wash your socks. Sleep. Repeat.

This is where the Camino turns into yoga - not the cute, Instagram kind, but the real one. The kind that burns a little. Tapas, we call it in yoga: the discipline, the fire that transforms.

You learn to be with the ache.
You learn to breathe through frustration, rain, and your own mind.
You learn to deal with discomfort like waking up at 5am and be on the trail at 5:30...
You learn to keep moving, not to get somewhere, but to stay with yourself.

Sometimes that looked like pausing under a tree, opening a can of Tinto de verano, or just laughing at the absurdity of it all - because sometimes, that’s the only way through.

The Arrival That Wasn’t the End
When I finally reached Santiago, I thought I’d feel done. Finished. Enlightened, maybe?
Nope.

What I felt was softness. Gratitude. And this strange sense that I didn’t actually want it to end.
So I kept walking - all the way to Finisterra, the “end of the world.” 100 more kilometers.

​Because once you find your rhythm, it’s hard to stop moving.
And maybe that’s the whole point - the end is never really the end. It’s just another horizon asking you to keep going.

What the Camino Gave Me
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The Camino gave me what yoga always gives me - truth.
Not the fancy, hashtag kind. The quiet, uncomfortable, beautiful kind.

It stripped away the noise, the titles, the to-do lists. It reminded me that I’m more than what I do - that it’s okay to not have it all figured out, to walk slower, to change my pace.

It also taught me what fear feels like when there’s no one else around to fix it.
One night, I ended up completely alone in an abandoned albergue, in the middle of nowhere, with no lock on the door. At first, my mind spiraled - every sound felt like danger, every creak like a reason to run. But then something shifted. I sat down, breathed, and remembered what I teach every day: you can’t control everything, but you can always return to your breath.
Somewhere between those inhales and exhales, panic turned into peace. And that night became one of the quietest, clearest moments of the whole Camino.
It showed me that presence isn’t something we reach; it’s something we return to.

That the path always provides - even when it rains, even when you’re lost, even when you’re tired and smell like a wet sheep.
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The Camino didn’t turn me into a new person. It just brought me home to the one I already am - the one who keeps saying yes, even when she’s scared.

If you want to see how this journey actually looked - the mountains, the coffee breaks, the laughter, the messy hair, and the little miracles - you can walk it with me on Instagram.
It wasn’t a polished trip. It was sweaty, real, sometimes lonely, sometimes euphoric - and I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.
Because sometimes, the best way to find your balance is to lose it on purpose.