Camino Compostela and a Day in Santiago de Compostela

 “Some paths call softly.  Others shout.  Listen close – the right one often whispers.”

Santiago de Compostela

Although we had arrived in Santiago de Compostela five days earlier at the end of our long journey along the Via de la Plata and Camino Sanabrés, we had not lingered. Instead, we continued walking westward on the Camino Finisterre to Muxía before returning once more to Santiago. It was only now, back in the city, that we allowed ourselves the space to bring this pilgrimage to a close - attending the Pilgrim Mass, collecting our Compostelas, and beginning the slow transition from being pilgrims on the way to travellers preparing to return home.

Pilgrim Mass in Santiago de Compostela

We woke at 5 AM with the intention of attending the early morning Pilgrim Mass at the Cathedral of Santiago. Stepping out into the still-dark streets of the historic quarter, we found the city hushed under low clouds, a touch of rain, and fog that seemed to blur the stone towers and narrow lanes. The upper steeples of the cathedral rose ghostlike into the mist, their outlines softened and their presence made even more striking by the weather.

       

We walked silently from our hostel to the great church, joining a handful of other pilgrims waiting quietly for the celebration to begin.  Arriving, we were soon seated inside, surrounded by the solemn beauty of the cathedral. The Pilgrim Mass began at 7:30 and lasted an hour, a quiet and reverent service attended only by those who could rouse themselves early enough to hike into Santiago in time or who sought to experience this sacred space without the crush of the crowds that gather later in the day

When the Mass concluded, we stepped back into the grey morning with a sense of peace, wandering the historic quarter in search of café con leche and tostada. Eventually, we discovered what seemed to be the only café open at that early hour.

The warmth of the bar wrapped around us as we sat, and soon our breakfast was placed before us - simple, comforting, and well earned. By the time we finished, the interior was filling with other pilgrims, some already looking lost without the rhythm of the trail, others preparing to leave after their long journeys.

The end is never easy.

Pilgrim Office and Compostela

Because of our late arrival at the end of our trek on the Via de la Plata and Camino Sanabres, we hadn’t visited the Pilgrim Office. We’d been here before - after the Camino Francés, the Camino Portugués Central, the Camino Primitivo, and the Portugués Coastal and Espiritual. In recent years, however, our experiences at the office hadn’t always gone as planned, and not every pilgrimage had ended with a Compostela. For Sean, the online registration system and the feeling of being reduced to a number had made the process feel like a disheartening way to conclude such a personal journey. As a result, he no longer goes inside or requests a Compostela.

At 9:30 AM, I went alone to the Pilgrim Office, unsure whether I would even be awarded a Compostela. On this Camino, there had been days when it was simply impossible to get two stamps, and I carried some quiet anxiety about what that might mean. To my surprise, despite the office having just opened, the line already stretched down the street and around the corner with more than a hundred pilgrims waiting. Thankfully, having pre-registered, I was able to show my Muzie code to the security guard and was ushered inside.

On my way in, I passed several dejected pilgrims: a woman among a group of four who had been refused, and a man who had walked all the way from Le Puy on the Via Podiensis and Camino Frances, only to be denied because he hadn’t managed to get two stamps on his last short stage between 4 AM and 9 AM this morning, when nothing was open. Their experiences echoed my own fears about the rigidity of the new rules for awarding the Compostela.

In the end, however, it seemed to come down to chance - to the luck of which staff member you happened to get, and how much they cared. The person at my desk barely glanced at my three pilgrim passports, merely flipping through them without comment before wordlessly printing out my documents and waving me away. There was no greeting, no conversation, no recognition of the journey behind the paperwork. The focus here seemed less about welcoming pilgrims home and more about processing them as quickly as possible.

It struck me how much the process has changed. What once felt like a symbolic welcome at the end of the Camino now resembled a modern bureaucracy, designed to keep pace with the sheer number of pilgrims arriving each day. While I was grateful to receive my Compostela, I couldn’t help but reflect that the heart of the Camino is still found out on the trail itself - in the shared steps, the landscapes crossed, and the meeting of other pilgrims en route - rather than in the piece of paper at its end.

Iglesia de San Francisco

Having been refused his credential for his pilgrimage on the Camino de Madrid two years ago, and again last year for not having collected enough stamps along the Rota Vicentina and Camino Portugués Coastal and Espiritual routes, Sean decided not to risk disappointment at the end of this long journey. Instead, he chose to visit the Church of San Francisco in Santiago de Compostela and receive one of their credentials for his Camino.

The church, just a short walk from the cathedral, is part of a Franciscan convent founded in the 13th century and traditionally linked to St. Francis of Assisi’s visit to Santiago in 1214. The current building, rebuilt in the 18th century in a neoclassical style, reflects the Franciscan values of simplicity and humility. Inside, it is a beautiful and unadorned space with pale stone walls, open and uncluttered, as well as being gently lit. 

As one pilgrim remarked to us, this space felt “full of faith.” Standing there, surrounded by stillness rather than spectacle, it was easy to agree. In contrast to the grandeur of the cathedral, San Francisco offered a more intimate reminder of the Camino’s deeper spirit - a spirituality rooted not in pageantry, but in quiet endurance and belief.

For us, this visit underscored a lesson we have come to value deeply: the significance of a pilgrimage lies not in the credentials, the stamps, or official recognition, but in the personal journey itself.  The miles walked, the challenges met, and the quiet moments of reflection along the way. Sean’s credential was a small token, but it carried the weight of experience, perseverance, and faith, each of which is a reminder that the true measure of the Camino is what we carry home in our hearts and in our lives.

Tears of Exhaustion

Though Sean is rarely one for recognition and seldom given to displays of emotion, I was surprised to see him collapse into a pew after receiving his Compostela from the Franciscans. He sat there silently, weeping, a quiet release after a journey that had demanded so much from him.

I gave him the space he needed, realizing once again that we had perhaps pushed too hard, for too long, with too little rest along the way … and that the toll of it all was finally surfacing. In that still moment, the weight of the pilgrimage, both physical and emotional, became tangible, and I felt gratitude for the fragility and honesty of shared journeys.

Wandering Santiago de Compostela

Having now completed several Caminos and arrived in Santiago many times before, we didn’t feel the same urge to explore the city in depth. We had already wandered these streets on past journeys, spending days and nights here, and this time our bodies were still sore and our minds deeply tired.

     

Instead, we moved slowly, revisiting the traditional shops we loved - stopping at the chestnut shop, browsing an art store, choosing patches for our backpacks and postcards for our scrapbooks or to send to friends at home. These small rituals gave us mementos to carry forward, and even led us to reconnect with old friends, a reminder that the Camino continues in unexpected ways even after the walking ends.

Practical tasks soon reminded us that this was no longer the trail. We replaced worn hiking shirts at a Decathlon store, and then made our way to Casa Ivar to collect the luggage we had left behind. 

There is always a moment when the pilgrimage shifts, when you feel yourself no longer a pilgrim but instead a tourist in Santiago de Compostela. One year, that moment came on the airplane travelling home. Another time, it was waking the morning after receiving our Compostela and realizing the companions we had walked beside would continue on without us. This year, it was when we picked up our stored luggage. The world suddenly expanded beyond what we could carry on our backs, and with that expansion came the quiet recognition that the Camino was ending. Yet Casa Ivar softened this transition, offering a warm welcome, a friendly word, and the comfort of wise words.

The rest of the afternoon unfolded gently. We returned to and again sat in the Praza do Obradoiro watching pilgrims arrive in waves, their emotions fresh and unguarded, their joy contagious. With a beer and a small dish of olives in front of us, we let their celebrations wash over us, drawing strength from the energy that had carried us here in the first place. Later, I went off to do laundry while Sean backed up our notes and photographs - small, ordinary tasks that marked the slow re-entry into daily life.

The Camino does not end all at once. It lingers in the body, in memory, and in the heart. But there always comes a moment when you begin to step out of its embrace and back into the wider world.

What’s Next?

With our arrival in Muxía, we had completed our coast-to-coast trek across Spain. What began in Cádiz on the Via Augusta had carried us more than 1,200 km along the Via de la Plata, the Camino Sanabrés, and finally the Camino Finisterre.  We ended, as we had begun, where the land met the Atlantic Ocean.  Standing on the coastline watching the waves crash against the shore, we felt the quiet satisfaction of having walked clear across the country, step by step. 

In many ways, this Camino was a continuation of the journeys we have been making for more than a decade. Each time we set out, the path carries us into new landscapes and new challenges, but it also circles back to the same truths: the rhythm of walking, the resilience discovered in hardship, the simple joy of sharing a meal or a moment with fellow pilgrims. Reaching Muxía was both an ending and another chapter in that larger story … a reminder that every Camino connects to the ones before it, and to those journeys still to come.

This year, however, there would be no slow return voyage across the Atlantic aboard the Wind Surf or the Queen Mary 2. We had once hoped to travel back to the UK to explore some of its pilgrimage routes before boarding the Queen Mary 2 from Southampton to New York - an unforgettable sailing we have cherished many times in the past. Yet with the current political climate and the uncertainty surrounding how Canadians are treated when entering the United States, we could not bring ourselves to take that path. If the ship were to call at a Canadian port, such as St. John’s, Newfoundland or Halifax, Nova Scotia, we would eagerly board, but we had no wish to gamble by passing through the U.S.

And so, our months of slow travel drew to a quiet close. Instead of a stately crossing of the ocean, there would be only a quick, impersonal flight home. Ahead of us lay not more miles on the trail, but the preparations for the life changes waiting just beyond the horizon.

Yet the Camino does not truly end with the last step or the final stamp in a passport. Its lessons travel with us: resilience in the face of challenge, gratitude for small kindnesses, and the reminder that each day is made by simply putting one foot in front of the other. These are the gifts we carry home, to be lived out long after the trail has faded behind us.

See you on the next trail!