Reaching the Camino de Santiago by rail

Long before the concept of slow travel, there was pilgrimage. A reverence for the journey across centuries and cultures, where the end destination was never the full story. Before reaching a sacred temple, healing waters, or an ancient sanctuary, there were long days on foot, moving in step with the natural world. Whether spiritual or secular, pilgrimage reflects a kindred philosophy to slow travel: journeys change us.

At its best, travel connects us to the shared humanity, revealing our own resilience, curiosity, and capacity for wonder. The resurging popularity of ancient paths like the Camino de Santiago, embraced today by people of all faiths and backgrounds, points to a collective yearning to slow down and travel with intention.

Such was my own endeavour as I embarked on one of the oldest and most recognised pilgrim paths in Europe: the Camino de Santiago along the French way. I was undertaking a small section of the whole route that ends at the famous Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. But my pilgrimage started significantly beyond the official start point in the French Pyrenees; it began from St Pancras train station. Before starting my pilgrimage on foot, there was first a pilgrimage to make by rail. 

It made sense to me that the prelude to one of the slowest journeys – and longest walks – I’d made in my life was one that could be equally mindful and grounding. From the Eurostar, I watched the Kent countryside disappear as I entered the Channel Tunnel, before reemerging into the morning mist of Northern France. With the lightest bag I could possibly manage (7 kg), I was without my laptop or even a book. From the window seat, these were precious hours with no distractions other than my small journal. In between window gazing, I scribbled down a few thoughts about the journey ahead. 

After the Eurostar to Paris, I made my second train journey down into the historic Nouvelle-Aquitaine train network to Bayonne, which offered a comfortable transfer time to wander down to the beautiful nearby river (just a five minute walk) for a cold drink. It was here I excitedly spotted the first scalloped shells hanging from hiking rucksacks: the symbol of Camino pilgrims, who were heading in the same direction as I was.

From Bayonne, it’s a short train (or in my case replacement bus) past spectacular mountain scenery to the start point of the Camino Francés: St Jean Pied de Port, a charming town nestled in the French Pyrenees. From the backpacks, shells and nervous conversation about blisters and bag weight, it was clear that virtually everyone disembarking at St Jean was also at the start of their Camino. The steep climb up from the station was a nerve-wracking introduction, but just 15 minutes later I’d checked into my first hostel.

The hostel at the start point of St Jean was the only hostel – or albergue – I’d booked in advance. It offered peace of mind on my journey down, and the chance to stay somewhere that was more of a hostel-hotel hybrid for a comfortable first night. As is tradition for albergues along the Camino, the bed included a communal Pilgrim’s meal (usually meat or beans with rice), a dorm bed and breakfast the following morning: usually tortilla, fresh bread and coffee.

In the evening, over shared glasses of red wine and hearty bowls of rice, there was a warm and open atmosphere amongst the group. We shared stories, discussed worries, and how we’d prepared for the journey ahead of us. I recalled the beauty of the train journey that had got me here, mindfully, and without a single airport queue. The pilgrimage by train was over, now it was time for the pilgrimage on foot.

The free-spirited pilgrim will tell you that spontaneity is a requirement of the Camino – and, having now finished my own journey, I tend to agree. But as a nod to my pre-Camino jitters and for those who like to plan ahead, here’s the summary of how to plan ahead (or not).

• Book your first hostel at the start point of your Camino. This will ease your mind and you’ll also be able to select somewhere you like the look of.

• The Buen Camino app is your best friend: it’s your gps map (although the route is incredibly well sign-posted), and a way for you to book hostels ahead of time if you’d like to.

• If you’d like to embrace the authentic Pilgrim experience, you do not need to book hostels in advance (apart from your first night). The advantage of this is you can be free and flexible with how far you walk each day. If you arrive in good time, (ideally before 2pm), you’ll very likely have no problem finding a place to stay – so long as you’re not picky! There are Albergues that have been running for hundreds of years, with many famed for always finding a space for pilgrims (even if it’s on the floor of the church!). If you’re less up for bedding down on a mat or shared dorm with over 30 people, then you can opt to book each stay in advance, and even treat yourself to a private room. 

• Carrying your own luggage is a rite of passage for Camino pilgrims  – and it’s also a dream for stress-free rail travel. But it’s not the only way! There are luggage transfer companies who can carry your bag for you between stops, or you can do this day-by-day depending on how you feel. Most hostels will offer luggage transfer service if you arrange it with them on the day.

On the topic of luggage, there was much debate over the dinner table. Trainers or walking boots? Poncho or waterproof? I’d gone for the ‘skin is waterproof’ approach, forgoing waterproof trousers for shorts and sports leggings if needed, on the basis that they’d dry overnight and keep my bag light. I’d also opted for trail running shoes rather than walking boots, which served me well (whatever you do - do not wear new shoes!). For a 7kg bag, in spring/summer months consider the following basics:

• Walking poles (especially for the section through the Pyrenees) 

• Sun hat

• Waterproof jacket or rain poncho

• Sports shorts

• Running leggings or lightweight walking trousers

• Running shoes or walking boots

• A thermal layer (useful even in warmer months as the mountains can be cold at night)

• Thin jumper

• A couple of breathable t-shirts

• One lightweight outfit for evenings (so you have something to change into)

• One pair of waterproof slide-on shoes (for dorm showers and evenings)

• Underwear

• First aid kit (including blister plasters)

• Water bottle

• A bar of soap (suitable for face)

• Suncream

• Sunglasses

• Toothbrush and toothpaste

• Torch

• Hand washing detergent (essential for such a small selection of clothes!)

I was advised by the hostel volunteers that most people make an early start and usually arrive at their hostel before 2pm. So after dinner, it was an early night and a 6am alarm as I braced myself for what was rumoured to be the most challenging day of walking: day 1 through the French Pyrenees. 

Saddled up with my 7kg backpack, I set off at 6am as the sun was coming up. I started my journey out of the cobbled roads of St Jean, and up into the hills, surprised how many others were journeying alongside me, and combined with the number of yellow shells that marked the trail, I realised I had little worry of getting lost. We exchanged nervous smiles and conversation about the journey ahead. It was a misty morning, but as we ascended into the Pyrenees, the mist settled and the green peaks of the mountains started poking out of the clouds. 

Just after midday, I’d hiked my planned distance of 15 miles, and arrived in the Navarra mountain village of Roncesvalles. Thanks to a tip-off from a fellow walker, I’d decided to try for a bed at the village donativo - a type of hostel run by the local churches who rely on pay-as-you-can donations, known for their hospitality, modest lodgings, and convivial shared dinners. That evening, sat alongside mixed ages, nationalities and people from all walks of life, we toasted to the first day of walking. 

After conquering the mountains of the Pyrenees, the rest of my Camino followed through the rolling hills of Navarre, through historic towns, and tiny villages surrounded by the vineyards of La Rioja (stopping to sample the famous red wine fountain). The route remained much the same as I’d initially planned:

• St Jean Pied de Port → Roncesvalles

• Roncesvalles → Larrasoña

• Larrasoña → Pamplona

• Pamplona → Puente la Reina 

• Puente la Reina → Estella-Lizarra

• Estella-Lizarra → Los Arcos

• Los Arcos → Logroño

Logroño was the planned end point of my Camino, an ideal finish thanks to the well-connected rail station with direct trains to both Madrid and Barcelona. I’d booked a seat reservation for my Interrail pass with a few days’ buffer for walking, but after arriving a day before my train, I decided to continue for a final day onward to Nájera with a group of friends I’d made along the way. With excellent bus connections (at least for the first half of the French way), it was easy for me to get back the following day for my train from Logroño.

The Spanish sun shone on my final day walking, and I headed out of the city. It felt strange to be overshooting my original end point, but a reminder of the freedom that overland travel affords. As I walked alongside fellow walkers-turned-friends who were carrying onto Santiago, I realised how easy it would have been for me to carry on with them to Santiago, and return on the same Interrail pass I’d used for my outward journey. As tempting as this was, I braced myself for my return to normality, and recalled the distance I’d covered all on my own feet (and before that, by train). I’d crossed borders, scaled mountain ranges, shared meals, and after 195 kilometres, I arrived into Nájera, and kicked off my trail shoes for the final time. 

The following morning, I ate my breakfast of coffee and tortilla on the terrace of the Albergue, watching the walkers leave in waves, continuing their journey west into the barren region of La Meseta and onto Santiago. I felt refreshed from my first post-6am wake up, and the thought of sitting down on a train for several hours felt like the perfect remedy for my tired feet.

The return journey passed without a hitch, and it was a meditative experience to watch the same landscapes I’d passed through on foot spread out before me in the opposite direction from the window seat of a train. I was headed on the direct service to Barcelona, for a few restorative nights with friends who’d promised me a comfy bed, a shower, and a washing machine.

On the agenda: very little walking! After one of the best sleeps of my life and several washes later, we were sat in a sunny square in Barcelona. Feet up, the afternoon passed in slow Catalan style, with multiple rounds of sangria and a continuous stream of tapas plates to refuel. Once my energy levels began to recover, we managed a mosey around the spectacular Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya, including the new Sim collection exploring the Spanish Civil War.

The following day, I boarded the TGV service from Barcelona, straight to Paris. It’s a service I love for its efficiency and speed, but also for the snippets of rural Spain and France that pass right by the window: from the flamingos of the Figueres wetlands to the vineyards of the Rhône Valley. I caught a final glimpse of the Pyrenees, grabbed some shut-eye and awoke in Paris. 

The final leg of my journey was the familiar Paris to London Eurostar. It was a train I’d taken countless times, and yet as the sun set across the sprawling French countryside, something looked different. The landscape was imprinted with the journey I had made before it, imbued with new memories, new experiences. As I travelled my final stretch home, I was reminded of the words of the late Anthony Bourdain:

Travel isn't always pretty... But that's okay. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body.

As my train pulled into St Pancras, I’d come full circle. I was marked by blisters (only two!) and slight sunburn, happily tired, with a renewed sense of adventure, and a longing to return to complete the journey to Santiago. My feet need a break, but in the meantime, there are trains.