‘The 500km walk to find myself’
Trekking the Camino de Santiago in Spain was a physical and emotional journey for Jo King.
When I was a little girl, my father offered to take me to the shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham in Norfolk, but I refused... I knew I wanted to walk there and be a pilgrim myself one day. Then life got in the way: I married and had five children, 14 grandchildren and eight greatgrandchildren. I battled cancer, too, and had a double mastectomy, and I also have a stent in my heart. But in 2016, aged 76, I realised I needed to make my dreams happen.
I’d always wanted to walk the Camino – a network of trails across northern Spain, all leading to Santiago de Compostela. I wanted to walk from Burgos to Santiago, a 500km journey. My husband, Richard, said that he couldn’t be prouder. I’d devoted my life to caring for others – now, I was allowed to be a person in my own right.
Then, during my training, I felt a twinge in my left knee. Determined that nothing would stop me, I booked a half-knee replacement a fortnight later. After five months of healing and physio, I was ready. In April 2017, I set off for Burgos with my son Gregory, who lives in Spain. I thought he’d just see me on my way, but we walked 380km from Burgos to Sarria together.
The landscape was stunning. I heard cuckoos, saw crimson poppies and a crisp blue sky. We stayed in hostels with up to 22 other people to a room. Even so, after walking an average of 16km a day, I had some of the best nights’ sleep of my life. The Camino is all about camaraderie. I met people from 34 countries and, although I was slower than others, I chatted to people as they passed. I also shared my water and helped bandage the ankle of an injured Icelandic man.
I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t tough. When the rain came in El Burgo Ranero, I wondered if I could carry on. But my sense of purpose kept me going. Sadly, when we reached Sarria, I was forced to fly home to rest my knee, but in September I returned to walk the final 117km to Santiago – some of it with my daughter Alison. As I walked, I contemplated my identity. I knew who I was to all of my family, but who was I? Who was Jo? It was a profound question.
There’s an iron cross between Foncebadón and Manjarín where, traditionally, pilgrims lay a stone to symbolise their journey. As I laid mine, I felt lifelong burdens lift – my difficult relationship with my mother, the miscarriage I suffered 50 years ago.
On the last day, I set off on the final 10km and met a girl on a school trip who walked with me for an hour. She told me she was being bullied. We bonded and I gave her advice. When I was presented with a finishers’ certificate in Santiago, I burst into tears. I felt like a different person.
Next month, I’m walking the 800km Camino Francés route. You’ve only got one life, so don’t waste it. The walk was my way of finding forgiveness and unburdening myself. Now, I stand 10-feet tall.