WALKING THE CAMINO, Part 6
The Hill of Forgiveness
After arriving in Pamplona by taxi, I realized I had no real idea where the Camino actually started. Two days of rest had wiped my internal compass clean — but they’d also steadied me. I wasn’t the limping wreck I’d been earlier in the week. I was just a man with a sore hip, a pack on his back, and a decent sense of humor about the whole thing.
So when I checked out of my hotel at 8 a.m. and saw a cluster of backpackers moving through the Old Town, I simply fell in behind them. A few blocks later, two heavily laden backpackers came toward me in the opposite direction. I stopped them to ask if I was headed the right way. They said yes — and casually mentioned they were walking back to France after already finishing the Camino. Over a thousand miles together. Seventy-plus days on the road. I’ve been married twice, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that neither marriage would have lasted as long as they eventually did if we had to survive a thousand‑mile walk together.
As I continued out of Pamplona, I met a Canadian family from Winnipeg — Nick, a police officer, his wife, and their two kids. Good people. We leapfrogged each other all day: they walked faster, I caught up, they stopped, I limped past. That’s the Camino rhythm — strangers orbiting each other like planets.
The centerpiece of the day was the long climb up the Hill of Forgiveness — Alto del Perdón. It sits about 10 kilometers southwest of Pamplona, a steep, iconic rise crowned by a 1996 steel sculpture of pilgrims from different eras. The inscription reads: “Where the path of the wind crosses with the stars.” It’s a place where medieval pilgrims believed their effort earned them forgiveness, and where modern pilgrims mostly earn a good sweat and a panoramic view.
The hill once held a basilica dedicated to Our Lady of Atonement and a hospital that cared for pilgrims. Napoleon’s troops destroyed both. Today, wind turbines spin above the ridge, a reminder that the Camino always lives in two eras at once — the ancient and the modern, the spiritual and the practical.
The climb wasn’t as brutal as the Pyrenees, but it was still a grind. And the descent — a rocky 3.6 kilometers toward Uterga — was its own test. Going down is never easy. Halfway through, my hip and thigh lit up again: sharp, searing, familiar. Not catastrophic, just enough to remind me that the Camino doesn’t care about your plans.
By the time I reached a small café, I was limping badly. I happened upon Nick and his family having lunch. I sat with them, took stock of my body, and admitted the truth: I wasn’t going to make the last couple of miles. So I took a taxi into Puente la Reina.
And yes, there’s always a flicker of guilt when you do that. But I’m not walking to Santiago because I need forgiveness. I’m walking because I want to walk. This is a spiritual, physical, mental challenge for me — not a quest to permanently injure myself. Limping across northern Spain with a searing hip isn’t the kind of enlightenment I’m looking for.
Even with the pain, I walked 12.6 miles that day. Over 30,000 steps. And somewhere on that climb, surrounded by wind and history and the long line of pilgrims before me, I gave myself permission to forgive myself. Not for taking a taxi. For being human — and for choosing the version of the Camino that lets me keep going.
James R Carey is an award-winning film and theatre director, writer, performer and producer based in Atlanta, known for the films Come Walk With Me (2026), Love Potion (2023), Divorce During Pandemic (2020), Fancy Meeting You Here (2018) and A Cost of Freedom (2008). His two features are the multiple award winner Madly (2021-Co-Director) & Alternative Endings (2022-Co-Director). As an actor, he has appeared in God’s Not Dead 5 (2024), Color Purple the Musical (2023), Division (2022), Madly (2022) and numerous short films and industrials.
Please check out my new book of short stories, What Comes In The Dark, available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, Kindle in ebook form. Only 2.99. Well worth it!
And you did exactly the right thing! You need to walk as much as you can, not as much as you "need." This is your path and only you define it. Buen Camino!