There’s something rather special about setting off on a long journey with someone who has known you almost your entire life. Phil and I met 55 years ago, when I moved next door to her family farm at the age of five. Since then, through all the twists and turns of life, we’ve always found ourselves returning to the same simple pleasure - walking and talking. So, in many ways, it felt inevitable that one day we would walk the Camino together.

We chose the Portuguese route - a 225km journey over two weeks. It offered just the right balance: a proper physical challenge, but not overwhelming; a complete pilgrimage from start to finish; and, importantly, the luxury of not having to carry our bags.

Before the walking began, we allowed ourselves time to ease into the rhythm of Portugal. Arriving early in Porto, we spent two leisurely days exploring its atmospheric old town. We wandered cobbled streets, watched buskers perform along the river, drifted beneath the bridges on a boat trip, and naturally indulged in a port wine tour, all under warm spring sunshine. It was the perfect prelude.

We set off on that first morning with a mix of excitement and quiet nerves. I worried about my sore knee and whether it would hold up over the distance; Phil, meanwhile, wondered how much she’d have to endure my whingeing!

A shared taxi to the trailhead introduced us to three Australian women and by lunchtime, Denise, Marcia and Jenni felt like old friends. For the next 12 days, we walked together, sharing stories, laughter and the steady rhythm of footsteps. This, more than anything, is the magic of the Camino: the easy camaraderie, the openness, the sense that everyone is part of the same unfolding journey.

Along the way, we encountered a cast of memorable characters: an Irish author seeking inspiration; a Spanish man walking his sixth Camino; a jovial Scottish couple who paused for a beer at every café; and a determined priest, cross slung over his shoulder, shepherding a group of teenagers along the route. There were musicians too - guitars, bagpipes, even a portable piano - and one enterprising young Dutch girl stamping pilgrim passports and selling handmade bracelets. Phil bought one for each of us, and we still wear them now; a small, tangible reminder of shared miles and new friendships.

Everywhere we went, locals greeted us with a cheerful “Bom Caminho” - a simple phrase that carried warmth, encouragement, and a sense of belonging.

Timing our journey over Easter brought an added layer of cultural richness. Across Portugal, churches and roadside crosses were draped in purple; the colour of Lent, symbolising suffering and reflection.

In Ponte de Lima, Good Friday unfolded in a hauntingly beautiful procession. As darkness fell, the town glowed in purple light and we joined the crowd walking silently beside the river, following a statue of Christ through the streets.

Easter Sunday itself was anything but quiet. The morning air cracked with loud explosions—rockets, we later learned—set off as priests moved from house to house blessing local families. That same day, we found ourselves unexpectedly included in a blessing at a small hostel café, where a priest offered rosaries and warm wishes of Bom Caminho.

By the time we reached Santiago de Compostela the following Sunday, another procession filled the streets—priests in white and red, bagpipes echoing, candles flickering. Even though we are not especially religious, we found these traditions deeply moving, adding a powerful cultural dimension to the walk.

The Camino unfolded in two distinct chapters.

In Portugal, the trail wound quietly through rural landscapes such as vineyards, wildflower meadows and sleepy villages linked by ancient cobbled paths. We stayed in charming hotels (the accommodation was better than expected with some hotels even having pools) with thick stone walls and peaceful gardens, perfect for resting tired legs at each day’s end.

Crossing into Spain, the atmosphere shifted. The trail grew busier, the paths shaded by eucalyptus forests and tracing rivers into lively medieval towns. Evenings brought the pleasures of Spanish cuisine such as tapas, local wine and, in Padrón, plates of perfect Padrón peppers.

Life on the Camino quickly settled into a comforting routine. Breakfast with our Australian companions, walking by 9am, coffee and cake stops along the way, then on through the day until hunger called for a picnic or a simple pilgrim’s lunch in one of the wayside cafes.

By mid-afternoon we would arrive, usually around 3:30pm, and reward ourselves with a cold beer before exploring our surroundings, dining well and turning in early, ready to do it all again.

The waymarks, ever-present and meaning we only got lost once (and that was due to chatting and not checking the way), became more frequent in Spain - counting down the kilometres and quietly urging us onward.

Arriving in Santiago was unforgettable. The great square in front of the cathedral was alive with music, laughter and celebration. Pilgrims hugged , sang, danced and for a moment, we were all part of something far bigger than ourselves.

Yet alongside the elation came a touch of sadness. Our journey had come to an end, and it was time to say goodbye to friends who had shared every step. (Though plans are already forming for another adventure together).

And my knee? It held strong - growing steadier with each passing day. In the end, Phil didn’t have to endure much moaning at all.

Louise and her friend Phil travelled as KE customers on the Walking Camino - The Portuguese Way, a rewarding journey from Porto to Santiago de Compostela which follows one of Europe’s most historic pilgrimage routes. Over 12 days of walking, they completed 225km along the Portuguese Way, discovering peaceful countryside trails, charming Portuguese villages and the rich traditions of northern Portugal and Galicia. Scroll down to explore more photos from their unforgettable journey.

Prices start from £1,315 per person, including accommodation, breakfast and luggage transfers. See more photos of their fantastic trip below.