Page 13 of Every Step She Takes
HOME ABOUT ME DESTINATIONS BLOG POSTS
The Ultimate Camino Packing List
Vi Wells
April 29, 2025 68 comments
As always, Nomads, this post contains affiliate links, and I receive a small commission if you purchase anything from these links. I only promote products that have helped me embrace my life of adventure!
If you’ve been around this blog for a while, you know there’s nothing I love more than a travel hack! And if that hack helps me save space in my carry-on? I’m a goner!
How you pack for the Camino de Santiago can depend on many different factors, such as the Camino path you’re trekking, the duration of the trek, and the time of year you plan to go. For example, if you plan to spend 40 days doing the Camino Frances in October, your packing list is going to look very different from a packing list for doing the Portuguese Coastal Camino for 14 days in May (like I’m doing).
It’s also important to consider where you plan to stay each night before drafting your packing list. Some pilgrims choose to stay in municipal albergues, where you pay as little as 10 euros for a bunk bed in a room with anywhere from 6 to 30 pilgrims. If that’s your plan, you’ll likely want to include a sleeping bag, pillow, and maybe even a sleeping pad on your packing list, along with a quick-dry towel and shower shoes. However, I’m traveling with Beatrix Tours, and all of our accommodations include private, double, or triple rooms (depending on your price point) with en suites, so all of my bedding will be provided for me.
There are a million Camino packing lists out there written by pilgrims who have done this trek dozens of times, and you can find some of my favorite oneshere. I also wanted to share some of my must-have travel items that will certainly be making the trek with me!
This40L Osprey pack.!
MyKeen hiking boots—both stylish and practical for long days on the trail.
My favoriteyoga pants by FitCheck. They come in a dozen beautiful colors, and their sizes go up to 4XL, because they know that us thick girls want to look hot while exercising too.
This dressfrom Columbia. It rolls up super small in your bag, doesn’t wrinkle easily, and will look great for nights out after a long day of walking.
Myportable sound machineby Hatch. It’s meant for babies, but I think it’s perfect for drowning out noise at a loud hotel (and it comes in this adorable mint green).
My favoritemoisture-wicking undiesfrom Duluth Trading Company. Not only do they keep me dry in my downstairs, but they’re cute enough for any surprise rendezvous you might have with fellow travelers.
Thisincredible travel makeup bag. What can I say? Even when I’m roughin’ it, I like to look good. How else do you think I find myself in surprise rendezvous?
FOURLONDON, ENGLANDTuesday, May 13, 2025
Mal
Freckles snores.Loudly.
She passes out around the third kitchen transformation involving two-toned cabinets, and she doesn’t wake up again until they shove her breakfast between her forehead and the seatback tray. And even then, she simply relocates her head and keeps snoring until we begin our final descent. As she fumbles for her things, she doesn’t acknowledge me or the discarded headphones tangled around the armrest between us. By the time we land in London, it’s almost as if that brief bubble of vulnerability never existed, like this woman never opened up to me at a cruising altitude of thirty-four thousand feet.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for on the Camino, Sadie,” I tell her before we part ways.
Her eyes flicker over my face like she can’t quite recall where she knows me from. “Thank you,” she finally says in a clipped tone. It’s our aisle’s turn to deplane, and she stands to pull a pristine Osprey backpack down from the bins. It must weigh a ton, because she almost falls over when it comes down on her head. I leap up to help, and our hands brush one last time as she manages to wrangle her arms through the straps.
“Bom caminho,” I say in Portuguese.Good journey.
She frowns at me in confusion and turns around to march down the aisle. By the time I grab my bag from a few rows ahead, she’s gone.
Jet-lagged and stale, I step into the terminal to find HeathrowHeathrow-ing. The airport is its typical self: overcrowded, over-perfumed, and overstimulating, all flashing florescent lights and overlapping noises spilling out of different stores.
I love it. Absolutely everything is a distraction from my noisy thoughts.
A few feet from the gate, the terminal transforms into a ridiculous luxury shopping mall, with life-size posters of famous actors selling Prada and Versace and Coach. Handbags and watches, fragrances and coats, and, of course, VAT-free cigarettes sold by the caseload.
There’s nothing quite like the rhythm of an international airport. The harmony of a dozen different languages, the frantic tempo of shoes and luggage wheels against the lacquered floors as people hurry to catch their flights; the melody of suits shouting at invisible people in their ears as college students have hushed conversations over their travel guides. I’ve always loved the possibility of it all, the potential. The hustle and the energy. Airports are like purgatory. You’re nowhere and everywhere, suspended in a temporal no-man’s-land until you step onto your next flight.
Each gate is like a magical portal to a different world. This door will take you to Vienna, that one leads to Johannesburg. Every door will take you away from whatever past you need to escape.
Airports have been one of the only constants in my life.
