Navigating the Camino: Signs, Symbols, and Why You (Probably) Won’t Get Lost

The good news? The Camino is one of the easiest long-distance walks in the world to navigate. The bad news? You will still probably get lost at least once. It happens to everyone—whether you miss a turn because you were lost in thought, followed the wrong group of pilgrims (who were also lost), or simply misread a sign. But do not worry. The Camino is so well-marked that even if you do find yourself off track, you are never lost for long. The signs are there, always guiding you forward. You just need to learn how to read them.

The yellow arrow is your best friend on the Camino. Painted on walls, sidewalks, rocks, trees, and even trash cans, the flecha amarilla is the universal sign pointing pilgrims toward Santiago. No matter where you are, if you ever feel unsure about where to go, just look for an arrow—one will appear before long. The rule of thumb is simple: if you walk for more than a few minutes without seeing an arrow, stop and retrace your steps. Some are bold and bright, freshly painted on a wall; others are faded, nearly blending into the stone, requiring a sharper eye. But they are always there.

The scallop shell is another great symbol of the Camino. You will see it everywhere—on signposts, on churches and hostels, hanging from pilgrims’ backpacks as a badge of their journey. But when it comes to navigation, the shell is more decorative than directional. In Spain, always follow the arrow, not the shell. In Portugal, the rays of the shell(not the base) typically point toward Santiago. Elsewhere, it varies, and this can lead to confusion. When in doubt, always default to the arrows—they never lie… well, almost never.

Throughout Spain, stone markers known as mojones serve as official Camino waypoints. These sturdy pillars can display both a yellow arrow and/or a scallop shell, often along with the distance remaining to Santiago. As you get closer, you will start seeing these countdown markers more frequently, a constant reminder of how far you have come and how little remains ahead. Some markers also indicate upcoming route changes—pay attention, as certain towns have multiple Camino paths running through them.

Many times, arrows are placed prior to a change in direction or at the change in direction. The mojones are typically placed just past the deviation, so that it is clear which way you need to proceed. If you come to an intersection, and don’t see a marker, go through the intersection looking down each route as far as you can see and look backwards too. Sometimes the markers are overgrown.

If there is one place where even seasoned pilgrims struggle, it is in cities and large towns, where arrows are harder to spot. In the countryside, the Camino is obvious—a clear dirt path, winding through rolling hills. But in cities, the arrows shrink. Sometimes they are small metal plaques embedded in the sidewalk. Sometimes they are painted discreetly on buildings or street corners. Sometimes they are attached to lampposts. When navigating an urban stretch, slow down and look around. If you do not see an arrow, check sidewalks, walls, or signposts. In busier areas, follow the flow of pilgrims—chances are, someone ahead of you knows where they are going. And if all else fails, ask a local. Camino towns are used to pilgrims passing through, and most people will recognize that look of confusion and point you in the right direction before you even have to ask.

Despite all these signs, every pilgrim eventually takes a wrong turn. The Spanish countryside is filled with trails, roads, and intersections—some of which look suspiciously like the Camino but lead nowhere. Fortunately, there are also warning signs. A crossed-out yellow arrow means “Do not go this way.” A red X or slash across a path is another clear sign that you are heading the wrong way. And if you suddenly find yourself facing a locked gate or standing in the middle of someone’s farmland, congratulations—you have officially wandered off course. Time to turn around.

When—not if—you get lost, do not panic. First, stop walking. If you have not seen a yellow arrow in the last five to ten minutes, there is no point in going farther in the wrong direction. Look around. Many arrows are faded, hidden on the side of a building or painted on a low stone wall. If you still cannot find one, retrace your steps to the last place you saw a marker. If that fails, ask a local—“¿Dónde está el Camino?” (Where is the Camino?) will get you back on track in seconds. And if you prefer technology, apps like Buen Camino and Wise Pilgrim have Camino maps, though Google Maps itself is unreliable for walking routes.

Sometimes, getting lost is not a mistake but a choice. Certain Camino routes have multiple paths leading to the same destination. When you reach a fork in the road with two sets of arrows, it usually means one of three things: one route is more scenic while the other is faster, one passes through a historic town while the other stays rural, or one is harder but more rewarding. Trust your instincts. If you are unsure, follow the group—or take a chance and see where the road leads. There is no wrong way to walk your Camino.

Most pilgrims walk during the day, but if you find yourself starting before sunrise, navigation requires a little more care. A headlamp helps, especially in rural areas where markers are harder to see in the dark. Many pilgrims stick together in the early hours, following each other until daylight makes the arrows more visible. If you plan to walk at night, be extra mindful—signs that are easy to spot in daylight can be surprisingly elusive in the dim morning light.

At the start of your journey, you might find yourself checking for arrows every few minutes, afraid of missing a turn. But as the days pass, something shifts. You begin to trust the path. The arrows always appear when you need them. There is always a pilgrim ahead or behind you. And even if you take a wrong turn, the Camino still unfolds exactly as it should.

And isn’t that kind of like life?

So take a deep breath, follow the yellow arrows, and let the Camino guide you.

Buen Camino.

Why Walk the Camino? The Allure of the Ancient Path

You are going to walk across Spain. On foot. Carrying everything you need on your back. Sleeping in shared dormitories. Wearing the same two outfits for weeks. Eating whatever is available. Enduring blisters, sore muscles, and the occasional snorer who could shake the walls of a medieval albergue.

Sounds crazy, right?

And yet, thousands of people do it every year. Not just hikers or seasoned backpackers, but retirees, students, accountants, teachers, artists, and people who have never set foot on a trail before. The Camino de Santiago has a pull unlike any other journey in the world. And once you hear about it, once it plants itself in your mind, it’s only a matter of time before you find yourself booking a flight, lacing up your shoes, and stepping onto that first dusty path.

But why? Why do people do this?

The Many Reasons to Walk

Some come for adventure. Some for history. Some for faith. Others, simply because they saw “The Way” with Martin Sheen and thought, Hey, that looks fun!

The truth is, there’s no single reason to walk the Camino—there are thousands. Some pilgrims are processing grief, heartbreak, or a major life transition. Some are seeking clarity or purpose. Others just want an extended break from emails, traffic, and the never-ending scroll of modern life.

The beauty of the Camino is that no matter why you start, the journey has a way of shifting and surprising you. What begins as a physical challenge soon becomes a lesson in patience. What starts as a quest for solitude turns into an unexpected festival of friendships. And sometimes, the moment you stop looking for answers, you find exactly what you needed.

The Pull of History

The Camino is old—very old. For over a thousand years, people have followed these same routes toward Santiago de Compostela, where the remains of St. James are said to be buried. Before that, ancient Celtic and Roman roads traced the same paths, leading travelers toward the westernmost edge of the known world.

There’s something humbling about walking in those footsteps, knowing that for centuries, people from all backgrounds—medieval peasants, noble knights, monks, merchants, misfits—have made this same journey. Some carried relics, some carried sins, some carried nothing at all. But all of them walked, just like you will.

A Different Kind of Travel

The Camino is not a vacation. It is not a resort getaway. You will not be sipping cocktails by the beach (unless, of course, you detour to Finisterre, which I highly recommend).

Instead, you’ll wake up early, lace up your boots, and walk. Every day, a new town. Every night, a new bed. Some days will be easy, filled with laughter and sunshine. Others will test your patience, with sore feet, endless hills, and the nagging question of Why did I think this was a good idea?

But along the way, something shifts. The clutter of everyday life falls away. The rhythm of walking becomes meditative. And you start noticing things—how the morning mist hangs over the fields, how a stranger’s kindness can feel like a miracle, how a simple meal after a long walk tastes like the best thing you’ve ever eaten.

The Camino Changes You

Ask any pilgrim, and they’ll tell you: the Camino stays with you. It gets under your skin. Long after you’ve returned home, unpacked your bag, and soaked your weary feet, the memories will linger.

Maybe it’s the people you met—the Dutch retiree who had the best stories, the Korean student who shared their last granola bar, the Spanish hospitalero who greeted every pilgrim with a warm smile. Maybe it’s the simplicity—how little you needed to be happy, how light you felt without the weight of daily worries. Maybe it’s the realization that, for a while, you were part of something bigger than yourself—a pilgrimage that has stretched across centuries.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll start planning your next Camino before the dust has even settled on your boots.

Because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s this: the Camino calls. And when it does, you go.

2025 Camino de Santiago – Cordillera Cantábrica

Back on the Camino: A New Adventure Through Northern Spain

The backpack is packed (well, almost). The flights are booked. And my feet? They’re itching to hit the trail again. This June, I’ll be picking up where I left off on the Camino de Santiago (Norhtern route) in Bilbao, resuming my journey from Bayonne to Santiago after a pause last year due to a loss in the family. Now, it’s time to lace up (or, in my case, strap on my sandals) and dive back into the rhythm of walking, one step at a time.

The Route: A Bit of Everything

This walk isn’t just a straight shot to Santiago—it’s a winding, meandering, choose-your-own-adventure kind of Camino. From Bilbao, I’ll follow the Camino del Norte, hugging the dramatic northern coast, until I reach San Vicente de la Barquera. There, I’ll veer inland onto the Camino Vadiniense, making my way to Cistierna, where the Camino Olvidado will carry me westward to La Robla.

At La Robla, I’ll pivot north onto the Camino San Salvador, climbing through the Cantabrian Mountains toward Oviedo—because what’s a pilgrimage without a little uphill suffering? From Oviedo, I’ll join the Camino Primitivo (the oldest of the Caminos) until Melide. And then? I have a decision to make. I’ll either:

  1. Walk straight into Santiago on the Camino Francés, or
  2. Hop a bus to Ferrol and complete this year’s Camino on the Inglés with my brother-in-law, adding a bit of historical flair to the final steps.

Either way, Santiago is the goal, and every twist, turn, and elevation gain will just be part of the story.

Packing Lighter, Walking Smarter

This year, I’m making a bold move: downsizing from a 36L to a 24L backpack. That’s right—less gear, fewer gadgets, and a lot more faith in the “I’ll figure it out” philosophy.

How am I pulling this off?
✔ Hiking in sandals instead of boots (because my feet prefer freedom).
✔ Ditching extra charging equipment and unnecessary electronics.
✔ Leaving behind things I’ve barely touched in past walks (goodbye, bulky first-aid kit and extra sets of clothes).

It won’t be truly minimalist, but it will be lighter—dropping from 10kg to around 7kg, not counting water or snacks.

The Big Picture: One Step at a Time

In total, this journey will cover around 800-900km. Add that to the 200km/280km (route/total) I walked last year from Bayonne to Bilbao, and by the time I reach Santiago, I’ll have clocked somewhere between 1100 and 1200km.

I’ll be walking for five weeks, with a total of six weeks away to soak in the experience, rest my feet, and enjoy Spain’s incredible landscapes (and food—let’s not forget the food).

So, here we go. New routes, fewer possessions, and the same love for the Camino. Every journey is different, and this one promises to be full of surprises, stunning views, and hopefully, just enough challenge to keep things interesting.

Buen Camino! 🚶‍♂️🌿☀️