Where the Ocean meets the Spirit

  • “Let the Atlantic guide your steps and cleanse your spirit.”

    A pilgrim path carved between cliffs and waves, the Camino del Norte follows the Atlantic Ocean like a heartbeat. Less traveled than the Camino Francés, this route is wilder, quieter, and deeply alive with sea wind and salt.

  • Camino del Norte

    A Journey Along the Edge of the Atlantic

    The Camino del Norte, or Northern Way, is one of the most captivating routes of the Camino de Santiago. Tracing the rugged coastline of Spain’s northern shore, this ancient path winds through the Basque Country, Cantabria, Asturias, and Galicia — offering pilgrims a quieter, more contemplative alternative to the more-traveled Camino Francés.

    Rooted in both solitude and awe, the Camino del Norte blends wild nature with deep cultural richness. Cliffs drop into the roaring Atlantic. Forest paths give way to medieval fishing villages. Mornings begin with sea mist and birdsong; evenings end with coastal sunsets and the scent of salt in the air.

    Historically used by early pilgrims avoiding the Moorish-occupied south, this route is steeped in resilience and reflection. It asks more of the body with its hills and coastal climbs, but rewards the soul with moments of stillness, authenticity, and rare beauty.

    To walk the Camino del Norte is to move at the rhythm of your own breath and footsteps, with the ocean as your companion and the road as your teacher. It is not only a physical path, but an invitation — to listen inwardly, to meet others with openness, and to rediscover the quiet courage within.

    Read more

  • Starting in Irún

    The Atlantic is never far—sometimes calm and wide like a mirror, sometimes crashing with ancient force. Along this path, you don’t just walk beside the ocean—you walk with it.


Make It

My Favorite Stage: Irún to Donostia

I first arrived in Irún at dawn. The town was still asleep as I stepped off the bus, quietly assembled my bike, and waited for the sun to rise. In the stillness of the morning, I pedaled toward the center to get a feel for the place—its rhythm, its quiet corners—and found a small café that had just opened.

Coffee in hand, I thought of the overnight trip from Barcelona. The bus was full, and I had been shaken by the constant stops and sharp turns throughout the night. Now, in this hushed moment before sunrise, I found stillness. It was a welcome pause before beginning my Camino.

Soon after, I set off toward the trail. The road began to climb.

I came back here again the following year, I left my bike behind and took the train from San Sebastián. This time, I carried only my hiking pole—ready to take on the path on foot.

As the trail began to rise, I met a big, broad-shouldered Basque man named Juanjo. Basques are known for their deep connection to the outdoors, and Juanjo embodied it. We struck up a conversation in Spanish, and it flowed naturally as we ascended. Somewhere along the way, he shared his thoughts—some of them blunt—including a rather negative opinion about Americans.

We stopped by a small church, where he pointed out a trail that led higher up into the mountains—toward Jaizkibel. The year before, I had biked around the base of Jaizkibel, a route better suited for wheels. But this time, the trail was far steeper, a path carved only for those on foot.

At the summit, the view opened wide: the Atlantic Ocean lay before us, vast and gleaming. There, Juanjo told me a story that stayed with me. During the whaling era, watchmen were stationed on cliffs like these. When they spotted whales approaching the coast, they would beat their drums to signal the whalers on the other side.

Basque Whaling: A Heritage Etched in the Sea

The Basques were among the earliest professional whalers in Europe, with a tradition reaching back to the 11th century.
They primarily hunted the North Atlantic right whale and, later, the bowhead whale.
Early whaling efforts were shore-based. From cliffs like those of Jaizkibel, lookouts would scan the ocean, ready to alert the whale hunters when a whale was near.

Pasai Donibane

Before reaching the elegance of San Sebastián, the Camino del Norte offers a quiet and unforgettable pause in Pasai Donibane—a narrow village pressed between sea cliffs and still waters. Accessible only by foot or boat, this small fishing port feels like a place gently removed from time. With its single cobbled street, leaning wooden balconies, and echoes of maritime history, Pasai Donibane invites you to slow down, to breathe in the salt air, and to reflect. It’s a place of passage—but one that holds you a little longer than expected, as if asking you to listen more closely to the rhythm of the sea and the quiet poetry of the Basque coast.

San Sebastián (Donostia)

San Sebastián—Donostia, in the language of the Basques—is a city where elegance meets wild beauty, where the rhythm of waves and footsteps blends into a refined, sunlit melody. Embraced by crescent-shaped bays and green hills, it’s a place where the Atlantic sighs against golden sand, and every street seems to lead toward the sea or a café. You arrive here not just to see a city, but to feel it: in the clinking of pintxos plates, the sea spray along La Concha promenade, the echo of voices in the Old Town. Donostia offers more than scenery—it offers presence. A city that teaches you how to linger, to taste slowly, to walk with your senses wide open. It’s the kind of place where a journey becomes a homecoming, even if you’ve never been before.on entering San Sebastian whether on foot or by bike I like wh

Walking the Northern Coast

A journey of sea, silence, and slow discovery

The Camino del Norte is a quieter way. It follows the edge of Spain, where the Atlantic meets the land in a long, winding conversation — through fishing villages, green hills, and coastal cliffs brushed by sea wind.

Here, I walked not just to reach Santiago, but to return to myself. Step by step, I passed through the Basque Country, Cantabria, and Asturias — landscapes that asked for presence, not speed. I met strangers who became companions, slept under stars or in bus stops, and lingered in places too beautiful to rush.

This page gathers memories from that walk: moments of wonder, fatigue, laughter, and stillness. More than a travelogue, it’s a record of how the Camino shapes you — through its rhythm, its generosity, and its invitation to walk slower, and see deeper.

Make it stand out.