The Camino Was Never Meant to Be Rushed: Why I Keep My Retreats Small
- Lisa Marie Staab
- May 28
- 4 min read
When the Camino Starts Feeling Like a Schedule
Over the past few weeks walking the Camino, I’ve crossed paths with a few very large tour groups. And honestly?
It reminded me exactly why I keep my own retreats intentionally small.
I don’t keep my groups small as some sort of exclusivity thing.I do it because I genuinely believe the Camino is experienced more deeply when there’s space to actually breathe in it.
Because somewhere along the way, I think we risk forgetting what the Camino actually is.
It’s not simply a walk.
It’s a pilgrimage.
And even if you’re not particularly religious, the Camino has a way of meeting you exactly where you are. Challenging you. Softening you. Slowing you down. Showing you things you didn’t realise you needed to see.
But it’s hard to hear any of that when you’re marching in a pack of 14+ people trying to make a dinner reservation by 6pm.
One group I crossed paths with was rushing through stages because accommodation logistics had gone sideways. There were transport issues, restaurant bookings to manage, people needing to be moved quickly from one town to another because there simply wasn’t enough accommodation available nearby.
Another group of around 14 had walkers pushing ahead at different paces. Some wanted to stop and enjoy the journey. Others were racing to get into town early. You could almost feel the tension building under the surface — the pressure of keeping everyone together while also trying to honour individual needs.
The Moment That Really Stayed With Me
And then on the Inglés, I watched a couple quietly break away from their larger group so they could sit at a tiny café beside the trail and simply enjoy a glass of wine in peace. They looked relieved. Human. Like they could finally exhale for a moment.
Until the group leader arrived asking why they had stopped when the final destination “wasn’t that far away.”
The awkward tension was palpable as the couple gently explained they simply wanted to enjoy the moment instead of rushing toward the next town. My friend, who understood the language, later told me the conversation was actually far more intense than it appeared from the outside.
And honestly, I think that moment says a lot about the Camino.
The Camino was never meant to feel like a school excursion.
Some of these villages are tiny. Beautiful. Historic. Soulful. But tiny. They’re not filled with giant chain hotels ready to absorb busloads of people every night. Sometimes accommodation is small family-run places, old stone guesthouses, or apartments spread across a village depending on availability.
And yes, sometimes people assume that because we stay in relatively comfortable accommodation with luggage transfers, it somehow makes the experience “less authentic.”
But I always find that conversation interesting.
Comfort Doesn’t Make a Camino Less Authentic
Firstly… how do you think pilgrims with means travelled historically?
Do we really think every nobleman walked carrying everything on his back? Many travelled with horses, donkeys, assistance, or support along the way.
And secondly — comfort and mindfulness are not mutually exclusive.
You can stay in a beautiful room and still have a profound Camino.
You can eat well and still be transformed.
You can have your luggage transferred and still walk every kilometre with presence and intention.
In fact, sometimes removing a little physical stress creates more space for the internal journey.
For me, what matters most is how you walk.
What Actually Matters on the Camino
Are you paying attention?
Are you noticing the smell of eucalyptus after rain?
The sound of church bells drifting through a village?
The old woman tending her garden?
The pilgrims you naturally fall into conversation with?
The way your body softens somewhere around kilometre eight?
The gratitude that sneaks in unexpectedly over a simple tortilla and coffee?
That’s the Camino.
Not racing to tick off kilometres.
Not power-walking your way to the next hotel.
Not spending the whole day counting steps while missing the actual experience unfolding around you.
Why I Intentionally Keep My Retreats Small
This is exactly why I cap my retreats at seven guests plus myself.
Small enough that people can walk at their own pace.
Small enough that someone can wander into a church, stop for wine, or sit quietly beside the trail without feeling like they’re holding up the group.
Small enough that silence can exist naturally.
Small enough that people are still having their own pilgrimage — not simply participating in my itinerary.
We check in together each evening over dinner.
“What did you notice today?”
“Did you have a favourite moment?”
“What surprised you?”
And honestly, those conversations are often where the real magic happens.
Mindfulness on the Camino Isn’t What People Think
Because mindfulness on the Camino isn’t about sitting cross-legged meditating beside the trail.
It’s about learning to pay attention again.
To your outer world.
To your inner world.
To your senses.
To the people around you.
To the food, culture, landscape, exhaustion, joy and discomfort.
To walk with a little more grace. A little more ease. A little less rushing.
And perhaps that’s why so many people return home saying the Camino changed them.
Not because they walked across Spain.
But because, somewhere along the way, they finally slowed down enough to truly experience it.
The Camino Was Never Meant to Be Rushed
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