The Funniest Moments from My 776km Camino Walk

After walking 776 kilometres from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port to Santiago de Compostela, I experienced moments that were equal parts hilarious, humbling, and downright bizarre.

Here are the stories that still make me laugh.

The Camino Shuffle

By day three, I noticed something peculiar: everyone was walking funny.

Not just a little stiff—I'm talking full-on penguin waddles, robot legs, and what I can only describe as "the Camino shuffle." Pilgrims who'd been striding confidently just days before were now moving like they'd aged forty years overnight.

And yes, I was one of them.

My personal favourite was catching my reflection in a shop window and realizing I looked like I was auditioning for the Ministry of Silly Walks. Knees locked, hips swaying, grimacing with every step—pure comedy gold.

The best part? Nobody acknowledged it. We all just shuffled past each other with knowing nods, united in our collective suffering.

The Great Albergue Sprint

You haven't truly experienced the Camino until you've witnessed the mad dash for beds at a popular albergue.

Picture this: a group of exhausted pilgrims, limping and hobbling all morning, suddenly transforming into Olympic sprinters the moment an albergue comes into view.

Backpacks bouncing, trekking poles clattering, people practically diving through the door to claim a bottom bunk. It's survival of the fastest—or at least, the most desperate for a bed that isn't next to the snorer.

I'll admit it: I participated in this chaos more than once. Pride goes out the window when you've walked 30 kilometers and just want to lie down.

The Phantom Pilgrims

One of the strangest Camino phenomena: the pilgrims who appear out of nowhere.

You'd swear someone was kilometers behind you—maybe you passed them having breakfast two hours ago, or saw them limping with blisters in the last village.

Then suddenly, BOOM. There they are, strolling past you like they've been ahead the whole time.

How?! Did they teleport? Take a secret shortcut? Hitch a ride when no one was looking?

I never figured it out. The Camino works in mysterious ways.

The Great Backpack Purge

And then there were the bins.

Oh, the bins.

Every few kilometers, you'd spot another casualty of overpacking: a perfectly good item abandoned in a rubbish bin or left forlornly on a stone wall.

Guidebooks, extra shoes, full-sized shampoo bottles, even entire clothing items—all sacrificed to the gods of "why did I think I needed this?!"

I saw one person dump an entire fleece blanket. Another left behind a cast-iron pan. A CAST-IRON PAN. On the Camino.

By the end, I was half-tempted to open a lost-and-found shop at the finish line. I could've made a fortune.

The Lesson

The Camino teaches you many things: resilience, humility, the importance of good socks.

But mostly, it teaches you not to take yourself too seriously.

Whether you're shuffling like a penguin, sprinting for a bed, or quietly abandoning your "essential" hair dryer in a bin outside Pamplona, you're part of a long tradition of pilgrims figuring it out as they go.

And honestly? That's the beauty of it.

Buen Camino!

Ross Laird