One year ago, we were a few drinks deep with some of our best friends when someone floated the idea:"Let’s do the Camino." We laughed. We cheered. And then, surprisingly, we followed through. Twelve months later, we were standing in front of the Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, sweaty, emotional, and overwhelmed, in the best possible way.

If you’d told me back on Day 1, windswept and wide-eyed in Matosinhos, that we’d soon be striding into Santiago de Compostela with full hearts and tired feet, I’m not sure I’d have believed you.

By now, the Camino had become a rhythm. Wake. Walk. Eat. Repeat. We’d started to trust our legs, our gear, and even our dodgy Spanish. But with all good adventures, there’s always a twist...

Camino had started to feel less like a challenge and more like a lifestyle. Early mornings, lacing up boots by headlamp, walking with the sunrise, finding our rhythm. But the Camino isn’t one long beach walk. Sometimes, it’s a mountain. A very big mountain.

There’s a unique kind of energy that comes from taking on something big. The kind that has you triple-checking your pack, rethinking your sock choices, and wondering (quietly, over espresso) whether you’re actually a bit mad.