.Day 20 – Up and Down, and Everything in Between
https://angeforsunflowers.com/blog/
🎵 Song of the Day: The Long and Winding Road – The Beatles
Only two more days to go.
Today felt long — not because of pain or distance, but because of the terrain. The path keeps rising and falling, rising and falling. We’re supposed to be going down toward Santiago, and yet it feels like the route has a different idea entirely. Up and down, up and down, through the forest paths, past farmer’s fields, and into small villages, only to climb again. Another hill, another bend, another rise. It’s like the final stretch is determined to keep teaching — as if Santiago itself doesn’t want to be reached too easily.
But I didn’t mind. There was something steady in today’s rhythm. I wasn’t in a rush. I found myself stopping more often — for coffee, for moments of stillness, and for one particular highlight: tucking into a bowl of cold mango ice cream. It was the kind of simple, silly joy that makes the Camino sparkle when you least expect it. A moment of rest, cool sweetness on the tongue, and just watching the world move around me.
There’s a lightness I felt today that hasn’t always been there. Even though the walk was a roller coaster — physically and emotionally — I felt oddly content. I wasn’t trying to outpace anything. I was just walking, breathing, and enjoying the slow rhythm of the day. No race. No pressure. Just presence.
And maybe that presence has grown because I’ve stopped trying to hold onto something that never quite fit.
At the start of this Camino, I was hoping to find a “Camino family.” A group. A sense of shared belonging. And for the first few days after León, that seemed possible — familiar faces, people to walk with, chat with, maybe even reach Santiago with. But that wasn’t the deeper gift of this journey. The Camino had something else to show me.
It’s been teaching me how to be alone — not in a lonely way, but in a strong, stable, inward-facing way. It’s been showing me that I can spend long periods in silence, in solitude, and still feel okay. More than okay, even. I’ve learned to stop for coffee and enjoy it on my own. I’ve learned that a simple “Buen Camino” can be enough of a connection in a day. I’ve learned to dip in and out of social interactions, without needing to cling to any of them.
The Camino is teaching me to be with myself.
And at the same time, it’s reminding me of what I’ll need when I return to South Africa — a rhythm, a structure, a reason to keep connecting without overreaching. I’ve been thinking more and more about building Angie’s memorial garden, planting those sunflowers and shaping a space of peace and beauty. I’m also toying with the idea of doing more with the mountain bike adventurers, maybe getting involved again in events or weekend rides. I’ve thought about joining the mountain club again. Volunteering. Finding places to touch sides with people, without trying to rebuild a life that no longer exists. Not chasing a new relationship. Just staying in motion, staying present, staying open.
Because while solitude has become a teacher here, I know that back home, it can slip into isolation too easily. The trick will be to find the right balance — something the Camino has been modelling all along.
And speaking of balance, I have to say: one of the best decisions I made for this Camino was to pre-book my hotel rooms all the way. Sure, it took a little extra planning upfront, but now, sitting safely and comfortably in my beautiful room tonight, I can tell you: it was worth every bit of effort. It’s an immense privilege to walk all day and then arrive at a space that is quiet, clean, and completely mine. No scrambling for beds, no bunkmates. Just rest. Sanctuary. A reward at the end of each day’s effort.
And that reward is important — because, like life, the Camino doesn’t make it easy. Some days are full of joy and unexpected beauty. Other days test your patience, your strength, your feet. Some days you walk in sunshine; others in silence or sadness. Some paths are smooth. Some are painfully rough. Some moments lift you. Others bring you down.
Today, I saw all of that — not just in the physical trail, but in the emotions that came with it. The exhilaration of cresting a hill, only to see another one waiting. The lightness of an ice cream break, followed by the slog of another climb. The ease of silence, then the pang of missing Angie in the middle of a quiet walk. Up and down. High and low. Like the terrain beneath my feet, life — and mourning — never stays level for long.
And maybe that’s the real metaphor of Santiago. You don’t get there in a straight line. You go up and down, twist and turn, find rest and get tested — again and again. And yet, somehow, you keep walking. You keep learning. You keep showing up for the next hill, the next conversation, the next bowl of mango ice cream.
So here I am, two days from the end, sitting safely in my hotel room, letting the day settle. And I’m grateful — for the hills, the detours, the quiet, the lessons, and even for the tiredness. Because they’ve all been part of this unexpected, emotional, beautifully exhausting Camino.
Thirty kilometres walked today. Only forty left to go.
And I think I’m finally beginning to understand why I came.
🌻 Angé for Sunflowers
Follow the journey and plant your story: https://angeforsunflowers.com/blog/
🎧 Song of the Day: The Long and Winding Road – The Beatles