Gerry and the Camino Way: Lessons From a Pilgrimage

Almost a year ago, I had a catchup call with Seth, who is a great friend of mine; we try to connect as regularly as life allows us to. Seth and I used to work together; we became almost instant friends when I started at the company and have remained steadfast friends ever since.

Prior to scheduling the call I received a text from Seth reading something along the lines of, I want to ‘run something by you’. Ever since we stopped working together I never once had a request for Seth to run something by me, so naturally I was curious.

On the call he asked me if I had ever heard of the Camino de Santiago , a pilgrimage with many routes (we started in Valen?a, Portugal) that officially ends at Santiago de Compostela , the capital city of Northwest Spain’s Galicia region and the terminal point of the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage.

I vaguely remember someone telling me about it many years ago but couldn’t recall the details; and I remembered it being described more as a beautiful hike versus a spiritual pilgrimage. It turns out that the two descriptions and experiences aren’t mutually exclusive.

Seth wanted to embark on the pilgrimage as part of his birthday celebration and asked if I would come with him. Without divulging too much information, Seth was feeling unsettled and in a transition period in his life where he was self-assessing his value on multiple levels.

I think all of us go through this at some point in our lives. Some may call it an existential crisis; others may call it soul-searching. Whatever nomenclature is used I think the basic premise is, something is unsettling us and thus we seek answers.

After doing extensive research Seth felt that going through the experience of the Camino would help him find clarity and peace. He describes to me that we would be walking 20–30 kilometers per day and staying at these places called albergues, which are basically hostels along the routes for pilgrims to stay at.

Without really giving it a second thought I said, sure, count me in. I was honored that he asked me and was happy to accompany him on the pilgrimage, which held significance for him. By extension of that, it was significant to me.

To not bore you with all the details of the many conversations and meetings that took place between our initial conversation and the actual pilgrimage, I will speed up the story to the part where I’m lying on the pavement at the near bottom of a steep hill with my hat on my face to block out the sun and using my backpack, full of whatever I needed for the week, as a pillow.

We had traversed nearly 30 kilometers, mostly inclines, and I was waiting for the albergue to open for the day. I was also waiting for Seth to arrive; at some point in the day we split up and agreed to meet at the albergue.

My solitary snooze was interrupted by a German couple that Seth and I had bumped into earlier in the day who also happened to be staying at the same albergue for the night. It wasn’t uncommon to meet pilgrims along the pilgrimage and continue to bump into them along the route, even if you weren’t staying at the same accommodations or on the same schedule.

It created a strong sense of community and bond, almost unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. That was one of the elements of the magic that is the Camino; even if you were doing the pilgrimage alone you were never actually really alone.

As we were chatting away we watched other pilgrims walk by, continuing on their journey. That is, until one of them decided to stop and come ask us if we knew if there were any rooms still available at the albergue. We let him know that we didn’t know, and since it wasn’t open yet there wasn’t anyone to ask. He asked if he could join our small party until the albergue opened to find out if they had a room available. We didn’t mind at all, and he looked like he needed a break.

He was a tall, heavy-set man who seemed to lumber more than he walked. He was carrying a full hiking backpack, wearing braces on his knees and maximizing the usage of the hiking poles seemingly attached to his hands. We introduced ourselves to him; his name was Gerry.

As luck, or just the Camino providing as it does, would have it there was one last room available at the hostel so Gerry didn’t have to keep trekking to check the next hostel. After we were let into the hostel we all had a rotation in the communal bathroom to clean and freshen up, and take a bit of a rest before dinner.

After washing up I took a much needed nap and when I awoke I looked out the window to see Seth approaching the albergue with Juliette, another pilgrim we met on our first night. She was staying at a different place so she waved and kept on walking.

While Seth was freshening up I had to hop into a Zoom room for class, as I was going through a venture capital (VC) program at the time. At some point everyone started to gather in the quaint courtyard that was also an outdoor dining area, where fellow pilgrims were chatting away and having pre-dinner drinks.

During a break in the class I decided to join everyone in the courtyard, although class continued for me. Between instruction about fund models and building your investment thesis, I could overhear the other pilgrims connecting or reconnecting with one another and sharing stories from the road and from their lives. And there were probably as many as three to four different languages being spoken at any given time.

My class ended just in time to hear Gerry announce, “In the Czech Republic beer isn’t alcohol it’s vitamins.”, as he proceeded to take a big chug of the local Spanish beer, Estrella Galicia, from his frosty glass mug and took a sip of what looked like whiskey from a smaller glass.

Gerry doesn’t speak to anyone in particular, as he sits at his table alone in a corner of the courtyard, likely washing away all the pain from his day’s journey with rest, alcohol, and the satisfaction of being part of the community of pilgrims.

We exchange a few pleasantries with Gerry as our food starts to come out: Pulpo a la gallega, slices of baguette, and a bowl of shrimp pasta; with a bottle of Rioja to wash it down with. I mostly listen, as I’m wont to do. I’ve always been fascinated by stories and storytelling, and the fabrics of the lives of normal everyday people and their journeys. And Gerry certainly has a fascinating story.

He is originally from the Czech Republic but moved to Boston in his 20’s to find work so he could send money back to his family. I believe this was the post-Soviet era so conditions were harsh, economically and otherwise, in many of the former Soviet bloc countries. He has been a plumber for over 30 years, which could help explain his bad knees and lack of mobility.

I asked everyone that I met along the way why they were doing the pilgrimage. For Gerry, this was truly the first time that he’d ever really done anything for himself. He’s sacrificed so much to be able to provide for his family in his home country, a common refrain for many refugees I’ve met.

Gerry goes on to tell us that he tried doing the pilgrimage in May (we were now in October) but couldn’t finish it; his body gave up on him. So this was his second attempt to make it to Santiago de Compostela. He recounts to us how he started training more and was more conscious of his diet, beer vitamins aside, to prepare for this second attempt. Gerry was determined to finish the pilgrimage this time around. We all wished him well and let him know we’re rooting for him.

The following morning Seth and I continued our journey around 6:30 in the morning, walking under cover of darkness for several hours. As the day started to bless us with the sunlight and its warmth we were walking through a gem of a little town and passed Gerry. He had left around 5 AM, and here we were passing him along the route. He was happy to see us and we wished each other a ‘Buen Camino’ as Seth and I kept walking ahead.

Gerry’s story will likely never get told outside of what I’m writing, but as I reflected on the Camino and people we met along the way his story stood out to me because it encapsulated the lessons I drew from other pilgrims’ stories. They are built around the theme of doing. As entrepreneurs, builders, and dreamers we are always doing; and oftentimes doing for others. So the question is, what are we doing for ourselves? How are we showing ourselves grace? How are we being kind to ourselves so that we can continue to be kind and giving to others?

In the spirit of answering those questions I offer these five (5) lessons from Gerry and the Camino:

Do things you want to now before you’re too old to do them.

The cold reality is, there will be ventures and adventures that we won’t be able to do physically or mentally as we age. My Dad, a refugee from Cambodia, waited too long to go back to our homeland; he never got the chance. And his is just one of countless similar stories. Why wait until ‘retirement’ or until ‘the time is right’ to do things you want to do? One of the main lessons I’ve learned throughout my career is that the work will still be there when you come back from your holiday. One of the most beautiful experiences I had on the Camino was seeing three generations of women doing the pilgrimage together.

Do things for yourself and do it your way because you deserve to.

One of the common euphemisms from the pilgrimage is, “It’s your Camino so do it your way.” It is as true on the Camino as it is in business and life. As hard as we work to make life happen for ourselves and our loved ones, we have to give ourselves the grace to do things for ourselves that are personally meaningful because, quite frankly, we’ve earned the right and privilege to do so.

Do it again, if you don’t succeed the first time.

I admired Gerry’s determination to attempt the pilgrimage again in the same calendar year. It was abundantly clear that this was significant for him. It’s not an easy journey, especially if you’re doing the full pack. There were certainly moments when I questioned why I chose to do it. But we will often fail in business and in life. It’s a choice to proverbially and literally get back up and keep moving.

If it’s significant to you, that’s reason enough to do it.

You shouldn’t need any other reason to do something, other than it makes you feel alive and makes you feel like you are fulfilling your purpose. Howard Thurman wrote, “Don’t ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” This quote emphasizes the importance of pursuing what genuinely resonates with you, that personal significance is a valid motivator for action, and is where true impact can happen.

The world is a village and we’re more connected than we think.

Everyone that I met on the Camino had a story, or stories, that were uniquely their own. Yet, somehow we all found common threads in this weave of humanity that binds us together. Instead of seeing only differences we can choose to seek, discover, and accept similarities and shared experiences. If we adopted that we could begin to imagine the possibilities of a world with less fear and more understanding and empathy.

Concluding Thoughts

I haven’t fully processed the pilgrimage, and I may never, but one large takeaway for me was to show myself more grace. The grace we show ourselves is just as important as the acts of selflessness we show to others. If part of our mission in this world is to care for others, I would argue that it is absolutely imperative to take care of ourselves. I’m forever grateful to Seth for allowing me to experience the Camino with him. Just as we were rooting for Gerry to finish his Camino, I’m rooting for all the other Gerry’s in the world, too, along their own journeys.