Camino de Santiago After 50: One Woman’s Journey to Freedom

When you’re over 50, the world doesn’t get smaller—it opens wide.

For Linda, five solo journeys along the Camino de Santiago have reshaped her relationship with aging, freedom, and connection. What started as a deeply personal pilgrimage turned into a transformation of identity, friendships, and perspective.

Linda, Washington State, USA

In this candid interview, Linda shares how solo travel after 50 helped her reclaim joy, honor loss, and create a global network of connection—one step at a time.

Why did you start traveling solo at this stage in your life?

Hmm? Well, I've learned quite late in life that I am very likely a lone wolf. I didn't ever know that it was okay to be that. I tried to fit in, do the right thing, join the groups, arrange the playdates, be on the mom committees.

The actual impetus for the first meaningful solo trip was my son and daughter-in-law’s honeymoon. Their stories inspired me, and I got this nagging in the back of my mind to go.

What were your biggest fears before traveling alone?

I had never walked multiple miles on successive days. If I went on a 10-mile hike, I’d spend days afterward “recovering” from the extreme effort. I was afraid I’d need to “recover” from a 12-mile walk before I could do another 12-mile walk.

That fear? Completely unfounded. I had to rethink, reconnect with my body—re-everything about all the old naysaying I’d done over the years. It was a walk. Just a walk. Every day, as long or as short as I felt like walking. It wasn't a race. It wasn't a competition. It was a walk, plain and simple.

If you ever felt unsafe while traveling, how did you handle it?

Honestly, I haven’t—at least not in any real, external way. But there was one moment in a remote town in Spain that caught me off guard. A group of men were gathered outside a café, and as I passed, they started calling out to me. My first instinct was to brace myself, ignore them, and keep walking. I felt self-conscious, even a little uneasy—alone, female, and very aware of it.

But then I tuned in. They weren’t heckling me—they were trying to help. I was going the wrong way, and they were pointing me back to the Camino path. They saw a fellow traveler in need of direction. I saw a situation shaped by past experience and social conditioning.

It was a small moment, but it stayed with me. Sometimes the world is kinder than we expect. We just have to be willing to hear it.

What challenge did you not anticipate—but managed to overcome?

Oh gosh—I thought the Camino would be a solitary, introspective journey. I packed journals and prepared for hours of quiet reflection and personal growth.

But from the moment I started walking, I was surrounded by fellow pilgrims—kind, fascinating people from all over the world. Latvia, Switzerland, Germany, Australia, Finland… friendships bloomed in the unlikeliest places.

I didn’t anticipate how deeply connected I’d feel to people I’d just met—or how lasting those connections would be. I know I could show up at their doorsteps tomorrow and be welcomed with open arms. The Camino didn’t just change how I saw myself—it changed how I saw the world.

How do you connect with others while traveling?

Sure, I use WhatsApp and Facebook to stay in touch—but real connection? That shows up uninvited. One minute you’re walking through vineyards in Rioja, Spain, quietly soaking it all in . . . and the next, you’re deep in conversation with someone you met five minutes ago, sharing life stories like old friends.

Sometimes it lasts an hour. Sometimes it lasts for years. There’s no formula. No forcing it. That’s the beauty of solo travel—when you’re open, the right people find you.

Share a friendship that’s stayed with you

Eddie. Eddie from Bolivia, who spoke with a Hispanic British accent and lived in Spain. We met on a bench outside my very first albergue in 2016, exhausted after walking up the Pyrenees.

That night we joined a communal dinner where we shared why we were walking. Eddie had just received a kidney transplant and was starting the Camino on his 64th birthday to celebrate new life.

We walked together for two weeks. When he got injured and had to stop, I went ahead. We stayed in touch after our Caminos ended. We even planned to walk together again the next fall—but he was diagnosed with colon cancer.

One day, he called to say he was tired. He didn’t want to fight anymore. I told him it was okay—he deserved peace. I was amazed he called me at that moment.

We did return in 2019 to walk in Eddie’s name.

What age-related assumptions did you encounter?

I expected the Camino to be filled with young people—out exploring, enjoying their strong bodies. I thought I’d be an outlier.

But I met people 50+, 60+, 70+, even 80+. I wasn’t alone at all.

Linda’s reflection resonates deeply with me.

I recently explored this exact question in a YouTube video titled “Too Old to Travel Solo?”—because the assumption that international solo travel is a young person’s game still runs strong. When that video is published, I'll add it to this this post.

Rarely do you see older women wearing a travel backpack, chest rig, or fanny pack—the kind of gear that signals this isn’t a vacation, it’s a mission. That doesn’t mean we’re not out here. We’re just not always visible in the ways others expect.

And too, I wonder if we’re less visible because the lack of digital fluency can be a barrier.

Accessing digital boarding passes, navigating communication and transit apps, toggling between eSIMs, VPNs, mobile hotspots, troubleshooting tech glitches or even just staying oriented with Google Maps—these things can be second nature to some, and overwhelming to others.

Tech literacy makes travel smoother—but not everyone’s reached that comfort zone.

The good news: Tools can be learned. Visibility can be reclaimed. And adventure? It’s still on the table.

What has solo travel taught you about yourself?

That “I can’t” should no longer be part of my vocabulary. Simple.

How has solo travel changed your view of aging?

I’m 65 now and heading to my fifth Camino this fall. Life is to be lived—get out there and live.

What advice would you give to a woman over 50 who’s never traveled alone?

Just go!

Everything that you think hurts or limits is just fear. Just do it and see what happens.

When I shared my first Camino on Facebook, so many people said “I wish I could, but my knee, or my back, or my bunion…” I have a wonky knee—and it improved over 500 miles.

Movement is medicine.

What’s next on your solo travel journey?

Europe! Ten days on the Camino with my sister, then continuing solo on the northern and primitive routes. After that, maybe Paris, Portugal, Spain, Scotland, and Ireland with friends.

The Caminos are certain—the rest is beautifully uncertain. There’s also the West Highland Way in Scotland, and the Kumano Kodo or Shikoku Henro Caminos in Japan. Or maybe I’ll rent an Airbnb in Italy. Who can say?

Name one thing you never travel without—and why?

Oh, I always take something to write in—a journal or a spiral notebook. Aside from a passport and a backpack, what else does one need? Ooh, comfortable shoes. Fashion be damned.

✈️ Final Thoughts

Linda’s story reminds us that solo travel after 50 isn’t just possible—it’s powerful.

Whether you're craving connection, healing, or just the thrill of a walk with no destination, your next chapter is waiting.

Linda, a heartfelt thank-you to you for sharing your Camino journey with such candor, humor, and depth. Your voice adds something real and radiant to the Graceful Roamer community—and we’re better for it.