Finding my way...
- Amy Shields
- Jun 4
- 6 min read
My journey on the Camino Francés.
Before.

I never thought it would happen.
Not really.
In my 24 years of living, I’ve often been the sufferer of empty promises and procrastination. The perpetrator being me, and the victim also being me.
Girls group holiday? Never made it out of the group chat. The play I wanted to write? Didn’t get past the planning stage. Working as a freelance photographer? Gave up after the first gig. I am my own worst enemy. I assume it stems from some unconscious fear inside of my head saying “You don’t have enough money, you’re not good enough, who is going to want to do this with you? You’re too old to start doing this now. Mum and Dad don’t approve of this.” Big fat sad girl imposter syndrome has often clouded my brain.
The walk had entered my life when I was at drama school early 2023. I was lying on my bed, relaxing after a long day of being an alligator in animal studies, when I came across a female solo- traveler who had just completed the Camino Frances. A 780 km route that extends over the North of Spain. Starting from St-Jean-Pied-De-Port in France, and finishing at Santiago in Spain. I found out that this route is part of the Camino De Santiago (the way of St. James) and takes approximately 34 days to complete.
I was at a point in my life where I was experiencing the best and worst parts of being in your 20s.

If I’m being honest, I don’t really know what drew me to it. My gut just told me that I had to do it. I was at a point in my life where I was experiencing the best and worst parts of being in your 20s. I was experiencing grief, a break up, the pressures of ‘making it’ in the acting industry, but also enjoying living in London, making new friends, and starting a new life for myself. So I pushed the walk to the back of my mind, but I never forgot about it.
It wasn’t until December 2023 when I started thinking about the walk again. The highs of drama school had fizzled out, I was living back at home, working in hospitality, facing people from the past every single day. Living in a small town means constantly running into people you used to know at one point in your life. I felt burnt out, unfulfilled, bored. A sense of yearning swam around in my stomach. I wanted more. But I was scared.
One night, during the Christmas break, I met my brother at the top of the stairs on the way to the bathroom. My brother is 4 years younger than me and the smartest person I know.
"Amy, there are opportunities everywhere. You’ve got to make things happen, you can’t wait around all the time."
“I feel stuck.” I said to my brother. I told him how in my head I was, how I wasn’t happy, how I wanted to move back to London but couldn’t afford it. I told him I felt like I’d made all the wrong decisions and how I felt like my life was over at 24.
“Why London?” He said to me. “You could go anywhere in the world. Why does it have to be London?”
I felt caught out. I had been struck with something I’d never properly thought about. Why did I want to move to London?
“I guess that’s where the art is, that’s where the opportunities are.” I said, unsure with my own response.
He sighed. “Amy, there are opportunities everywhere. You could go to Spain, India, Thailand. You can go whenever you want. You’ve got to make things happen, you can’t wait around all the time.”
“But it’s difficult with acting. I can’t just leave, what if an opportunity comes up and I miss out”
“If it was the opportunity, it wouldn’t happen at a time when you couldn’t do it. Fuck it- you’re 24. You’re young. Who cares! It’s your life.”
He was right. It was my life. And I only get one life.
For the first time in a long time, I was set on a decision. I was going to do the walk. And I knew who I wanted to bring along with me.
I was in the local pub one Saturday night with my best friend George and our friend Joe. We had just finished a conversation about how ‘old’ we were compared to everyone else in the gaff. We reminisced on how ‘back in our day’ you’d walk into the local wetherspoons and everyone our age would be there, but now, you don’t see anyone. Everyone’s moved away or has big adult plans. The ones you do see often ignore your existence completely, which is sometimes for the best.
As I felt the sense of existential dread creep up into my gut, I changed the subject. George said he felt stuck. He, like others, had a big adult job in a field close to what he wanted to do, but he was still at home flitting between his Mum and Dad’s house and not feeling very secure. He said he didn’t feel like he had one place that was home. I told him how I also felt stuck. I was working two jobs back to back, my creative habits were slim to almost non-existent, the ones that did exist were not bringing me the joy that I once felt for them. I felt restless. A feeling that I was accustomed to.
I told him about the walk.
The curiosity in his eyes began to grow, so I asked him if he would come with me.
A few days later, George came round. We watched the film The Way. A film about a grumpy father setting out on a journey to complete his wanderlustful son’s dream to walk the Camino (I won’t spoil the film, but watch it. It’s great).
Once the film ended, George turned to me and said “I want to do this now”.
I smiled at him and replied “me too”.
Everything felt a bit more possible.
We started planning. Many days were spent in the local Wetherspoons practising Spanish, planning our packing list and researching the route.












And then there we were. All squeezed into Emma’s Dad’s car on the way to the airport (thank you Danny). Ready to begin our journey. The feeling of fear and excitement all rolled into one. This was happening. I was going to do this.
The one thing that circled round in my head during the lead up to our adventure was “Why? Why am I really doing this?”
A question I’d be asked a thousand times over the next few weeks.

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