Chasing Dreams

Day 5 – Tomar to Vila Verde
20 km
Two beers. One ice cream with fresh orange rind.

Our walk out of Tomar led us into a dense forest still wet with morning dew. The aroma of damp earth awakened the body to a new day. Spring flowers erupted with colour in the soft morning light, while birds sang like our own little cheering squad.

We were feeling the hills from yesterday. Our muscles remembered the rhythm, and our steps naturally adjusted as we transitioned from uphill to downhill.

Along the way we came upon a pilgrim from Slovenia. He looked genuinely happy to see us. It reminded me of my second day and how I felt when I finally saw and spoke to people. I made sure to walk beside him for a while. Though conversation in words was difficult, we shared an experience overlooking treetops and valleys.

He walked slowly, pointed to his hip and knee, and grimaced. I understood this language.

We continued together a little longer before he waved, giving me permission to move ahead. I picked up my pace and caught back up to my two friends.

At the 7 km mark we arrived in Casais just as the church bells rang. We were hungry and hopeful it meant breakfast was being served nearby.

I’ve been told a few times that the Camino does not give you what you want — it gives you what you need.
I must have still been in my “want” era.

It was only 8:30 AM and already 15 degrees. We would need to walk another 3–4 km before finding food. I thought about the man from Slovenia several times after we separated and hoped he was doing alright. The terrain was challenging, and the day was getting hot.

After finishing our sandwiches and just before leaving, he appeared again. I gave him a big wave and smile. You become invested in people’s journeys out here. I was grateful to know he had made it that far.

The final 10 km became harder and harder. The hills continued, and the heat was relentless. The last stretch into Vila Verde forced us up one more hill on a hot paved road with cars whizzing by.

Although your backpack becomes part of you, after 20 km it feels less like an appendage and more like a useless beer belly hanging on for dear life.

And hearing “it’s just around the corner” when your legs have nothing left to give somehow feels like the hardest push of all.

We arrived in Vila Verde at noon. It was 30 degrees, and we went straight to a café for a cold beer and lunch. Beer contains Vitamin B — a very nutritional approach to recovery I have been told.

After lunch we walked the final kilometre to our accommodations for the evening.

Andrus and Lea, owners of Herdade di Luce, are originally from Estonia and moved to Portugal three years ago. They purchased a farm and have slowly been turning it into their own piece of paradise. Shortly after arriving, and as a way to create connection, they began hosting pilgrims.

Their estate is filled with nature’s gifts — lemon, walnut, avocado, and nêspera trees, along with herbs like lavender, rosemary, and lemongrass. Their garden overflows with vegetables, and they even use wool from their sheep to create handmade products.

After a quick swim in the salt water pool, Lea taught Rajae and I how to felt soap.

Every detail of our stay was thoughtfully planned. Our meal was prepared mostly from ingredients grown on their farm and sourced locally. Prior to serving, Lea shared the connection of the food to her culture – both Estonia and Portugal, as well as the nutritional value of what we were to consume.

Both work tirelessly together, inside the home and out on the land. You can feel how much love and pride they pour into the life they are building.

Everything they do comes from the heart. I will return here one day.

Day 6 – Vila Verde to Ansião
28 km
One beer. One wine. Three pastries (yikes).

My feet took to the path at 7 AM, but my mind was still back at Herdade di Luce. The warmth, hospitality, and beauty of that estate will stay with me for a long time.

Rajae, Jacob, and I have become a little Camino familia. We have now walked together for three days and created a rhythm that allows for both deep discussion and quiet reflection. We are conscious of each other’s pains and exhaustion, and supportive in adapting to whatever the day asks of us.

The Camino weaved us through many tiny villages, most of them seemingly abandoned to time. Every so often we would pass a restored home, standing proudly among the ruins, as though someone still believed community might one day return.

Within the fallen stone buildings, nature had quietly reclaimed its place. Vines curled around lone walls, wildflowers burst through cracked foundations, and greenery thrived where life once was. Even in rubble, beauty grows when it’s given some light.

Something I’ve noticed on the Camino is how awakened my senses have become. The smells of nature are so discernible now. Several times while lagging behind, I suddenly catch the scent of eucalyptus or peppermint. It revives me and reminds me to be present.

Maybe that is one of the quiet lessons of this journey — not grand revelations, but small awakenings. To notice more. To listen better. To understand that healing and growth rarely arrive all at once, but instead through ordinary moments repeated day after day. A shared smile. A difficult hill. The kindness of strangers. The reminder that even when we feel lost or exhausted, we are still moving forward.

At the 10 km mark, Rajae’s feet needed rest, so she decided to take a bus and promised to meet us at the albergue we had booked the night before. Jacob and I decided to continue on foot.

I was somewhat concerned. The heat was building, and we had heard the final stretch would take us up more hills and down more valleys — more hills! But we carried on and were glad we did.

Once again we found ourselves deep within a dense forest. The quiet trail eventually connected to a highway where we walked for some time before meeting an older man.

“Buen Camino,” we exchanged.

He spoke English, so we chatted while we walked. He was 83 years old, from Arizona, and had been walking for six days from Lisbon — the same as me. This was his second Portuguese Camino, and he had completed the Camino Francés three times before. He planned to walk all the way to Santiago and connect with his son along the route.

I made sure to tell him he was an inspiration. Thirty-three years older than me and still pressing on through the heat and elevation.

I can do hard things too.

When we arrived at the albergue, we reunited with Rajae — and, to my surprise, the man from Slovenia. It felt like a happy reunion.

The place was filled with pilgrims from the Netherlands, Slovenia, Germany, USA, Denmark, France, and Canada. We shared a meal, stories, and conversation.

We are all learning something from each other out here. No matter where people come from or what language they speak, so many of us arrive carrying similar things — grief, uncertainty, burnout, heartbreak, or the quiet feeling that something inside us needs tending to. And somehow, through the simplicity of walking, sharing meals, resting tired bodies, and encouraging strangers up steep hills, healing begins to happen in small and unexpected ways.

I find solace in the shared humanity and the understanding that growth often begins the moment we allow ourselves to slow down, be vulnerable, and walk alongside one another.

I’m glad you’re here.

Until next time…there’s more to come.

XO