Yesterday was my brother’s birthday. It’s been a few years since I saw him on his actual birthday, such is the nature of living in two separate states, but this year the distance is even greater. It’s something that I am still coming to terms with. When my wife and I first told our family that we were planning on travelling and working, with no discernible end date in mind, we were regularly met with hypotheticals and challenges. Some of them were downright confronting.
‘Which family member’s funeral would you come back for?’.
A valid question, no doubt, but it’s something that I had hoped I wouldn’t have to answer. Being overseas is an interesting dilemma as you get older. I often talk about age as a means of raising the stakes. We all encounter challenges and problems, but when you don’t have the luxury of time, the issues become bigger, the pressure to make good on returns is far greater. That’s the real gamble of life and one that, invariably has no real winner.
One thing I have noticed on the Camino so far is age. It’s the elephant in almost every albergue. While there are some young people travelling through on a sort of ‘gap-year off to find themselves’ mission (of which I am certainly one), the overwhelming majority of pilgrims are in their sixties and seventies. Some are even older.
But all of them have a similar story.
They are all walking the Camino for themselves. That sounds obvious, but it’s not. For some of them, it’s the first time in their lives they’ve ever done anything for themselves. As we sat around the dinner table on Sunday night at Albergue Borda and listened to the many varying pathways that led these 13 unique people from across the globe to this small room, the prevailing answer was ‘time’, or more aptly, the lack thereof.
One by one, we all revealed our reasons for making the unusual and abrupt decision to up our lives for a month or two and walk in a straight line from one country to another. Dave and Steve, were retirees who, after decades on the corporate ladder, were looking for a sense of peace. Sandra and Francesca were mothers who had finally let go of the responsibility of parenthood, giving them just enough emotional slack to take time for themselves.
Most, if not all of them, had just recently lost a parent or partner and were coming to terms with the brutality of loss and the conflicting emotions of no longer having to care for someone in need—that sudden and abrupt surplus of time.
As the youngest in the group by about 20 years, I felt like a bit of a fraud, like I was privy to a conversation that was never really intended for me. But as the night wore on, I realised that might be precisely why I was here; to be a conscious observer, to listen to and care for, if only briefly, those who had done unto others for so many years.
Small moments like this might not change your life, but they do have a habit of shifting your perspective. And as I sat there and listened to the stories, I couldn’t help but think of the old adage ‘Time is Money’. Crass though it may appear on the surface, the line actually comes from Benjamin Franklin’s 1748 essay Advice to a Young Tradesman, and was conceived as a means to teach young workers the value of hard work, efficiency, and the “opportunity cost” of idleness.
Whether they realise it or not, everyone in the room understood that message. Sandra and Francesca’s years spent looking after loved ones and caring for children were never wasted. Dave and Steve’s decades on the corporate ladder afforded their families the luxury of education, home and safety. They all gave more than they took and now, the Camino is permission to put themselves first. They are affording themselves a small piece of that old existential currency that seems to only increase in worth as the years wear on.
So yes, time is always money, but it is how you spend it that makes it valuable.
This is an edition of The Camino Diaries, an ongoing series from MADE Journal founder and editor Nicholas Hall about his experience walking the Camino de Santiago. The weekly columns are matched with a daily social media series that sees him release one frame from the road, exploring the process of walking 800 kilometres from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port in southern France to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. Each day, he shares honest reflections from the trail, the people he meets, the struggles of the journey, and the moments that slowly pull him back to himself.To follow along to the Camino Diaries on TikTok and Instagram, visit the links below.
Just stumbled upon your tik tok page as I was watching Camino videos and watched yours. I walked the French route with my daughter in June 2025. I was 71 she was in her late forties. There were many young people hiking in the summer but as you mentioned many older people to. I had one Japanese couple in their 90s out walk me every time. They were amazing. I wondered a lot, about this journey and why it felt like everything I knew in life became a distant background as if The Camino would be my new starting point. To begin again, to challenge myself again, to remember who I was again. I wasn’t even a hiker but my daughter was. I’d dreamed of this walk over 12 years. Then the next thing my daughter said, “we’re going” and we did! The Camino simply arranges for you everything you need. Even the obstacles are serendipitous. The timing of everything has a rhythm. The history is tangible. It is not what we set out for it to be though and I can guarantee every single pilgrim
walking the Camino will be given the exact experience they need. That said, you have a great inviting presence on camera. I still believe the right documentary hasn’t been made on the Camino as yet and I worked in film promotion but I’m loving your first few days viewing your documentation of your walk. ! So Buen Camino, safe travels and thank you for sharing your story.
Plus I totally agree with you on bag transfers! A must !