What’s Next

I’ve spent most of my time since returning to Los Angeles readjusting to normal life and resuming the job hunt that I’d left behind. I wasn’t quite ready to begin the monumental task of working through nearly 3,000 photos and videos to find the keepers and develop them, but I’ve finally begun. In many cases I’ll be doubling back on the photos I’ve already uploaded to this blog now that I have access to my full tool set and the time to work; so you can expect to see revisions when I start sharing.

I’ve given some thought to how everything should be presented. I have a photography website and accompanying Facebook fan page that existed before I started preparing for the Camino, and then there’s this blog and its fan page. The photography site will definitely host a lot of the photos, perhaps all of them, and its fan page would host some too. The Faces of the Camino blog and fan page will probably focus more specifically on the people I met and their pictures.

Going forward I’m going to present more portraits here, along with a few paragraphs describing a memorable moment with the person pictured, or with some thoughts from them about their experiences now that the Camino is a memory. There’s also a lot of video footage to go through, and if the quality is good I’ll compile it all together.

Walking from France to the western coast of Spain took 33 days. I suspect this will take a while too!

So, more to come. In the mean time, don’t stop walking.




For me, although the road to Santiago begins in St. Jean Pied de Port, my camino begins here in the house where I grew up. I landed in Fort Lauderdale airport, momentarily surprised by the warmth and humidity of the South Florida night as I stepped off of the plane and onto the jetway. My parents were waiting for me at the terminal’s exit. The full moon was bright in the sky as we drove home.

My parents have been supportive of my plan to walk, as they’ve been supportive of me all my life. That’s not to say that they completely understand why I want to go (how would they if I don’t?) — my mom wonders aloud how they managed to raise a son who thinks walking 500 miles qualifies as a good time! My aunt takes credit (or blame?) because she once ran away from her home in New York on a Greyhound bus to Florida.

It was late when I arrived, but for me it felt three hours earlier. So after they went to sleep I stayed up to watch the full lunar eclipse. In Earth’s shadow the moon swirled red and black in the sky next to a teensy tiny supermassive blue giant star, while Mars glowed brightly off to the right. What a tease, no?

The next day included more preparation. The undersheet, sleeping bag, pillowcase, and frame pack needed a coat of permethrin to guard against bedbugs. I sprayed the sleeping bag’s compression sack with water sealant, because I’ve gone to sleep in a rain-soaked sleeping bag before and left it a scathing Yelp review. Continue reading