Via de la Plata and Sanabres: Long Distance Hike or Spiritual Pilgrimage?

 “…not all who wonder or wander are lost…”

Bear McCreary, This Wandering Day

Camino Questions, Pilgrimage Reflections

One question followed us all the way along the Via de la Plata and the Camino Sanabrés: Is this a pilgrimage or a long-distance hike?

On a long-distance hike, you anticipate being self-sufficient and finding your own way. Trail blazes may guide you, and there are often opportunities to resupply, but the rhythm is largely individual. The hiker carries the responsibility of food, shelter, and safety as an essential part of the journey lies in that independence.

A pilgrimage, on the other hand, carries a different set of expectations. Along routes like the Camino Francés, one anticipates clear route markers, regular intervals of villages or cafés where food and water can be found, and the assurance that at the end of each stage, there will be some kind of lodging. To borrow the familiar phrase, the Camino provides. The infrastructure itself becomes part of the experience.  Not only guiding pilgrims forward, but supporting them along the way.

A Complicated Route

Neither the Via de la Plata nor the Camino Sanabrés fit neatly into either definition. At times it feels like a hike, with long stretches through quiet countryside where villages are sparse and services uncertain. There are moments when the pilgrim must plan carefully, carry food and water, and be prepared for the solitude of the trail.

Yet in other moments, it carries the marks of pilgrimage. Yellow arrows faithfully point the way, and just when fatigue sets in, a small bar, an open church, or a kind host seems to appear. There are places where the path is well-worn, where centuries of footsteps echo in the stones, and where the rhythm of arrival, rest, and departure feels unmistakably like walking a Camino.

This duality can be both disorienting and rewarding. For those who expect the Camino Francés, the VDLP and Sanabrés may feel sparse or demanding. For those who come from a background of long-distance hiking, the presence of markers, albergues, and community can feel like unexpected grace. In reality, the Via de la Plata and Camino Sanabrés are both, and perhaps that is their strength. They ask pilgrims to walk with the independence of a hiker while remaining open to the gifts of the journey.

In the end, whether it is a pilgrimage or a hike depends less on the infrastructure and more on how one chooses to navigate it.

Differences and Expectations

How, then, are the Via de la Plata and Camino Sanabrés different from other Camino routes?

On most Caminos, the journey seems to unfold in three familiar phases. The first is physical: the body gradually adjusts to the demands of walking day after day. The second is emotional: that restless period when the question “Why am I doing this?” often arises. Finally, the third is spiritual: the place of stillness, clarity, and openness that many pilgrims describe as the essence of the Camino.

On the Via de la Plata, these phases felt different. The physical adjustment took longer, and the emotional stage - that questioning of purpose - seemed to stretch across the entire route. As for the spiritual stage, we struggled to reach it. Though there were moments of connection with nature and stretches of wandering thought, the constant weight of logistics left little room for a clear or meditative mind.

     

Each day became a balance of decisions: how far to walk, what stages would follow, whether food was available, how much to carry, and where we might sleep. These choices rarely ended with arrival at a day’s destination. Evenings often found pilgrims hunched over guidebooks and phones, quietly calculating distances and supplies for the days ahead, which in turn impacted their options in subsequent stages. Instead of space for reflection, there was a constant mental accounting of what came next.

This, perhaps, is the most striking difference. The Via de la Plata is not built upon a deep cultural foundation of pilgrimage. Its origins lie in Roman trade routes and Moorish roads. By contrast, the Francés, Portuguese, and Primitivo feel infused with the memory of countless pilgrims. On those routes, the rhythm of stages, the availability of food and shelter, and the culture of the villages themselves invite one into the experience of pilgrimage. On the VDLP, one feels instead the contours of a long-distance hike - which is indeed how many approach it.

There is, of course, nothing wrong with this. It is a long, beautiful hike through landscapes rich with history. Yet if one comes expecting a pilgrimage and finds a hike, the adjustment can be jarring. Blogs and guidebooks warn of scarce supplies, but somehow this message is easily underestimated - as it was for us. We anticipated long stretches without services, but assumed that each stage’s beginning and end would provide at least a bar, a small shop, or an albergue. Too often this proved untrue. Some evenings, we pieced together dinners from gas stations or camp food we had carried with us.

Journey of Simplicity 

And yet, despite these differences, both pilgrimage and hiking share something essential. Each strip life down to its basics, making things tangible again. Each sends us out into the world, asks us to engage with nature, and invites us into a shared human experience. The Via de la Plata and the Camino Sanabrés may not provide the same foundation of pilgrimage as other routes, but they remind us that the act of walking itself, whether called a hike or a pilgrimage, is a journey back to simplicity.

“Journeys give us an opportunity to experience many things … reaching our destination is perhaps the least important … our journey being a series of signs, symbols and messengers we meet along the way.” Confraternity of Pilgrims to Jerusalem 

See you on the Way!