THE YEAR OF THE WAY

DURING THE AUSPICIOUS JACOBEAN HOLY YEAR, A WRITER HIKES WITH HIS DAD ALONG THE CAMINO PRIMITIVO IN NORTHERN SPAIN, BACKPACKING TO THE MEDIEVAL-ERA CITY OF SANTIAGO DE COMPOSTELA AND ENCOUNTERING ACTS OF KINDNESS EVERY STEP OF THE JOURNEY

- JULIAN MANNING

"COME ON! PUT YOURS ON."

"WE'RE NOT WEARING MATCHING BERETS," REPLIES MY FATHER.

We are walking through the Spanish city of Oviedo the starting point of the Camino de Santiago (The Way of Saint James), a 315-kilometre pilgrimage through rural northwestern Spain known as the Camino Primitivo (The Original Way)-following painted yellow flechas (arrows) on signposts and bronze scallop shells embedded in the pavement: the universal signals of the Camino. I adjust my Basque txapel, the wool hat protecting me from the fine drizzle but not the occasional unenthused side-eye at my cultural appropriation of the Bernese shepherd, perhaps why my father is reluctant to put on his recent purchase. However, for most people walking on the street, the sight of a guy toting a huge hiking bag with a beret is nothing out of the normal-hats littered with bird feathers, men wrapped knee to shoulder in pelts of fur, backpacks stitched with national flags, and trolleys hung at the hips line the blocks; it's summertime and Oviedo is ground zero for the Camino Primitivo, and while not every pilgrim has a proclivity for the eclectic, it is relatively easy to eyeball the caminantes (walkers) from the locals, beret and hiking bag notwithstanding.