My First Day on the Camino Nearly Broke Me

My first day on the Camino nearly broke me before I had even earned the right to be dramatic about it.

I had imagined the beginning differently. In my mind, I would step out of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port with my backpack, my pilgrim spirit, and a little cinematic glow. I would be nervous, of course, but also brave in that soft-focus travel documentary kind of way.

Instead, I arrived motion sick from the bus, underprepared for the climb, and fully introduced to the Camino’s sense of humor.

Saint-Jean Looked Like a Dream. My Stomach Disagreed.

I had flown into Madrid, spent a week there, bought my gear, then made my way to Pamplona. From Pamplona, I took the bus to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. What I did not know was that the ride would twist and turn through the mountains like someone had designed it specifically to test my commitment.

By the time I arrived, my stomach was done with me. My body wanted stillness. Unfortunately, my reservation at Orisson did not care about my feelings.

I had booked Orisson because I knew the first stage from Saint-Jean to Roncesvalles would be too much for me in one day. I am not a mountain goat. I have had heart issues since I was a kid, and I knew enough about myself to break up that first climb. That was wise.

What I did not fully understand was how steep that first stretch would be.

The Climb Started Immediately

There was no gentle warm-up. No sweet little introductory stroll. The Camino looked at me and said, “Oh, you came for transformation? Start climbing.”

At first, I tried to be cute about it. I had my backpack. I had my pilgrim shell energy. I was walking out of Saint-Jean, telling myself, “Look at you, girl. You are doing this.”

Then the road kept going up.

And up.

And up some more.

The locals seemed unfazed. Older walkers passed with the kind of calm that felt almost disrespectful. Meanwhile, I was sweating, struggling, and wondering whether I had made a terrible mistake in front of God, France, Spain, and everybody.

The Moment I Started Crying

By late afternoon, my GPS still showed more than two hours to go. The light was shifting. My phone service was unreliable. People had thinned out. I was tired, sick, scared, and running out of time.

That is when the tears came.

I was not crying in a poetic way. I was not having a cute little travel awakening. I was crying because I genuinely did not know if I could make it to Orisson before dark. I wondered what would happen if I got stuck out there. I wondered why I had done this to myself. I wondered whether the Camino was about to become a very short story with a very embarrassing ending.

I called Orisson, and they reminded me that I had to arrive. They were not warm and fuzzy about it. It was France. We move.

The Kindness That Got Me There

Eventually, I flagged down a car. The people inside wanted to help, but their vehicle was packed with bags and boxes. There was no room. I looked at them with the desperation of a woman who was not above folding herself into a corner if that meant surviving the day.

Another car came. Still no easy solution.

Then something shifted. The first woman got out, rearranged everything, and made space for me. I squeezed in, grateful beyond words. What would have taken me well over an hour to walk took about ten minutes by car.

Ten minutes.

That is the part that still makes me laugh. I had been out there wondering whether I was about to meet my ancestors on the side of a French mountain, and Orisson was ten car minutes away.

Orisson Was My First Camino Lesson

When I finally arrived, I was exhausted. I was humbled. I was not yet transformed, but I had already learned something important.

The Camino was not going to care about my fantasy version of myself. It was going to meet the real me. The me with motion sickness. The me with new gear. The me with fear. The me who needed help. The me who had to accept that help without making it mean failure.

That first day taught me that sometimes the next step is not heroic. Sometimes it is practical. Sometimes it is a phone call. Sometimes it is asking strangers for help. Sometimes it is squeezing into a car because your body has done enough for one day.

If you are planning your own Camino, please read What Is the Camino de Santiago?, visit my Camino de Santiago hub, and do not skip the upcoming Camino Packing List for Women. Also, break in your shoes before the trail. I am begging you with love.

Helpful Links for Your First Camino Day

Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port is a beautiful place to begin, and the local tourism site shares helpful background on the town’s role as a gateway to the Camino. You can explore it through the official Pays Basque tourism page.

For your own logistics, compare hostels through Hostelworld, look at useful gear in my Amazon storefront, and consider travel medical coverage through SafetyWing. If you want help thinking through your first stage, book a planning session with me through Calendly.