Camino Frances:The Road to Sarria
The Journey Begins
Pilgrim mural Iglesia Santa Mariña de Sarria Church - Sarria, Spain
It was supposed to happen in 2020. A walk across northern Spain, from Sarria to Santiago de Compostela, just over 115 kilometers of quiet countryside and shared pilgrimage. But like so many plans that year, our Camino was put on hold—delayed, then delayed again—until August 2, 2023 when finally arrived.
We’d held onto the dream tightly through every “maybe next year,” through lockdowns, cancelled bookings, and the ache of plans unrealised. So when we boarded the train from Madrid—surrounded by fellow pilgrims identifiable by their hiking boots, walking sticks, and that unmistakable nervous energy—it felt like more than a train ride. It felt like arrival.
Thankfully, we’d done a dry run to Madrid’s Chamartin train station a few days earlier in an attempt to visit Segovia. That little recon mission helped calm our nerves as we joined the crowd scanning the departure boards for the platform announcement. The moment it came, there was a shared, unspoken urgency. We weren’t alone in our eagerness to not miss this ride. The platform buzzed with chatter in a dozen languages and the low hum of anticipation.
As the train pulled away from Madrid, I glanced around at the others—some quietly talking, others staring out the window, many lost in thought. I pulled out my laptop to catch up on a few tasks, a strange juxtaposition of the digital world against the very analogue journey we were about to undertake. Even so, my eyes kept drifting from screen to scenery. Wide fields, rolling hills, stone villages slipping by like chapters in a story I hadn’t read yet, but that was also about to become a part of my history.
Eventually, we changed from train to bus for the final leg into Sarria. It was a bit of a scramble—bags over shoulders, people everywhere, rushing, making sure no-one miss their opportunity for a seat to get us to our destination for the planned following morning’s departure. But when we finally stepped off at the small Sarria station and began the short walk into town, it hit us. This was it. The buzz changed. This was no longer planning, no longer dreaming. This was happening.
Our Camino journey was happening!
We walked up the hill three of us with backpacks and one rolling a suitcase. The clickity clack of the wheels on the pavement and stone roadways bringing a rhythm to our walk. We checked into our accommodation for the night—our base camp before the journey truly began. But instead of settling in completely, we went exploring. The town, already steeped in Camino history, welcomed us with its symbols: scallop shells on red cords in shopfronts, yellow arrows pointing the way, and signs written in many languages. We followed a few of the reverse arrows—backtracking towards Triacastela just to see where others had come from, to feel the depth of the trail.
Twice we climbed the stairs beside Iglesia Santa Mariña de Sarria, before finally stepping into the small, peaceful church to receive our first stamp in our credencial—the pilgrim passport that would collect the story of our walk. That first stamp, though small, felt momentous. A physical mark of a journey long-awaited and finally begun.
On the quiet streets around our hotel, we wandered. Each store seemed to have its own way of honouring the Camino. I picked out a couple of simple Camino pins—one for my pack and one for my hat. Tiny keepsakes, but meaningful ones.
That evening, we ate dinner at a local pub where the Camino conversations had already started. At the next table, a French pilgrim shared his story—he had been walking the Camino in sections over several years. He proudly showed us his multiple credentials, thick with stamps from towns across Spain. His journey was different from ours, but the heart of it was the same. The Camino allows for that kind of connection—where a stranger’s path weaves into yours, if only for a moment.
Back in the hotel room, the mood shifted slightly from excitement to preparation. Clothes were repacked. Snacks sorted. Water bottles filled. Anything unnecessary was stripped away to lighten the load. Medical kits were double-checked. It felt a bit like the night before a school camp—nervous, a little giddy, and tinged with uncertainty about what the morning would bring.
Pre dawn Pilgrims on their way - Sarria, Spain
That morning, I woke to the sound of clicking on the street outside.
Pilgrims.
From the balcony, I could just make out their shapes in the pre-dawn light—hiking poles tapping against the pavement, packs bobbing, headlamps glowing. The Camino had already begun for some.
We ate breakfast at the same pub where we’d had dinner, watching as more pilgrims passed by on the way.
A luggage van pulled up nearby, swapping bags from one town to the next—a quiet efficiency that so many would rely on over the coming days, including ourselves.
And then it was our turn. We took the traditional “first photo” of our Camino, right outside the hotel. We’d barely walked 500 metres when we stopped again—this time at the big “Sarria” sign where the road forks and the hill begins. It was our first real step forward, our official entry into Camino country.
Yes, it was going to be a long day if we stopped for photos every few minutes. But wasn’t that the point? To be present. To take it all in. To walk not just with our feet, but with our whole selves.
Only 114.5 kilometres to go. But for now, we had begun.
Helpful Links to help plan your journey
Omio (affiliate link) - Central location for you to access train timetables for easy booking of train journeys to and from the start and end.
Booking.com - All your accommodation options in the one location. Search by hotel or by city map to help you navigate your stay easier.
Raw Travel - We booked our camino adventure through Raw Travel. They take care of all your accommodation bookings and luggage transport needs.
