When the Camino Calls, You go.

I was standing at a crossroads, deep in uncertainty about what came next, and I didn't have the answer. So I packed a bag, flew to Spain, and started walking from Burgos.

Twenty three days and roughly 590 kilometres later I reached Finisterre, the end of the world. Some days I covered 25 kilometres. Others, close to 40. The body adapts when the mind is committed.

The French Way gave me what I was looking for. Not immediately, and not easily. But somewhere between the blisters and the early mornings and the long stretches of road with nothing but your own thoughts, things became clear. The answer was to move to Canada, start over in the adventure industry, and leave everything behind if that's what it took.

One night I found a small municipal hostel in the middle of nowhere. San Bol. No wifi, no distractions, just pilgrims and silence. Nights like that one stayed with me long after the walk was over.

I planned everything myself and walked alone. But the Camino has a way of connecting people. I met strangers who became something more. People I still carry with me.

The road left me with two things I haven't forgotten. First, everyone walks their own journey and that's okay. You can't carry someone else's pace or compare your path to theirs. Second, travel light. You don't need as much as you think. In fact, the less you carry, the further you go.

Arriving in Santiago de Compostela was one of the most meaningful moments of my life. But the real gift wasn't the destination. It was who I became on the way there.