Earlier this year, I accepted the offer to tag along with my partner, Jasmine, and her family for a holiday in Europe in December—France, Portugal, Spain. Her sister had started her Masters in Paris and it was an opportune time for a family holiday. I saw it as a valuable time to be with Jasmine and to get to know the family better. I was also looking forward to visiting Spain for the first time! I had read so much about it, and Jasmine and I had been taking Spanish for the past year, toying with the idea of maybe living there one day.

An earlier return flight we booked fell through and we had to book new tickets. The newly available flights turned out to be so much more expensive that season, and return flights offered no difference from two one-way tickets.

It was during that research process that seeds started forming in my head to do the Camino de Santiago.

Going back a few years—I had first heard of the Camino de Santiago when I was directing a documentary that featured a very spritely and fit elderly man, one of his achievements having completed this walk in his older years. Back then, the Camino struck me as an interesting pilgrimage but not something immediately desirable to a hiker who had started multi-day trips so he could see majestic mountains and special terrain Singapore didn’t have. The Camino seemed to me a mostly flat trail that was more spiritual and historical.

At the point we were rebooking flights, I had just returned from Nepal, in an attempt to do the Annapurna Base Camp trek, which ended early due to altitude sickness. Also, I had travelled a lot this year and my income was significantly lower, with no work lined up in October and November (which I had hoped). And personally, I had started to feel that my career in film had reached somewhat of a standstill.

Why am I doing the Camino de Santiago?

Was I trying to prove something right after failing to complete my Nepal trek? Maybe. If not to others, perhaps to myself.

I also dreamt of one day doing the Pacific Crest Trail, a much longer trail at about five months, with quite a bit of camping required. But the Camino would still be the longest walk I’ve done, at 30–35 days. It felt like a decent way to scale up and build my trail legs.

And to be honest, my sense of feeling unmoored, and uncertainty about my future might have contributed to this decision too. What I know is that there is a simplicity to being out there, putting one foot in front of the other, with just the essential routines to ensure your body’s needs. Feeling confidence that all you need is with you on your back. Perhaps I wanted to feel that again.

All the pieces suddenly clicked and it felt like the right time to do the Camino, a long meditative walk that seemed relatively simpler with no altitude considerations.

Why am I walking in winter?

Ultimately—cost savings. Already being in Spain, it felt timely, rather than making another trip again. Flights back were also cheaper in early February.

It was only with later research that I found that I would mostly be walking in winter conditions. This meant average temperatures of 1°C–10°C.

It also meant a much quieter time with much less people compared to other seasons.

That felt apt at this stage. And after doing some winter hiking in Tasmania with my brother, I suspect I really like walking in the cold.

Why am I walking alone?

At the moment, Jasmine works at a full-time job with limited leave. If not, I would have been open to doing it together.

But apart from her, I was ok with walking alone. I’ve even started to look forward to it! All my long hikes so far have been done with others, and it’s great to enjoy things together. But there is a certain quality to doing things on your own…and it felt right to try this time. Time to be alone with my thoughts. And to be fully open to others who I might pass by or walk alongside.

I’m not sure what I’ll find, but I know I’ll have a lot of time to think, and learn more about myself.