The Camino de Santiago is a network of hiking, biking and horseriding routes that spider web across the country, and into the rest of Europe. Its paths lead to the city of Santiago, where Catholic tradition says the remains of the Apostle James are interred inside the cathedral. In recent years, the medieval pilgrimage through northern Spain has exploded in popularity.
Over the last decade, the number of people doing this pilgrimage has doubled, from about a quarter million in 2015 to more than 530,000 last year. And that massive increase in foot traffic has made a big difference for local economies along the hundreds of miles of trail.
The Camino runs through rural areas of Spain. On the Camino Primitivo, or the Primitive Way, it’s common to start walking before the sun comes up, on dirt and gravel paths, through verdant forests, past fields of cows and sheep just waking for the day.
Café owner Ana María Miras Pedreia said pilgrims have usually been walking for hours by the time they reach her spot and have their first meal of the day.
Inside Bar Casa Modesto, Miras Pedreia spends her mornings pulling espresso shots, making spanish omelets, and toasting up crusty baguettes. Five years ago, she left her career in healthcare to open this bar along the Camino, and the pilgrims passing through fuel her business.
“The Camino de Santiago, in reality, for Galicia, is everything,” she said. “Without the Camino de Santiago, we probably wouldn’t be living here right now.”

Ana María Miras Pedreia mainly serves pilgrims from her bar in rural Galicia. She said she sees more and more pilgrims every year.
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Maricarmen Fernández López owns a hostel along the same Primitive route. Her family has been working in hospitality in the village of O Cádavo for decades, so she’s had a front row seat to the massive increase in pilgrims. Twenty years ago, the pilgrims passing through her village each year numbered in the hundreds. Last year, there were more than 15,000. And all of those passersby bring money.
“If somebody arrives in the village, you have to think they’re bringing your money in their pocket,” Fernández López said, “even if it’s just to buy a Band-Aid at the pharmacy.”
That money helps keep jobs in the small town, which has struggled with depopulation.
“What it gives to these villages is life, because businesses are set up, and those businesses employ people, and the people invest money,” Fernández López said. “In the end, it’s a good thing. It’s an important revenue source for all the rural areas — on any Camino route, not just this one.”
Not a single business owner or worker interviewed for this story on the Primitive Way saw a downside to the popularization of the Camino. But that changed when this less-travelled path merged with the most popular Camino route: the French Way, and crossed into the final 100-kilometer stretch to the city of Santiago.
That’s when the trail got busy — so busy that buskers set up alongside the path.
One day, a musician had set up his keyboard and played Coldplay’s “Viva La Vida” in the middle of the forest, hoping passing pilgrims would toss a few coins into his case. Another day, a cellist at an underpass was playing music from the “Pirates of the Caribbean” soundtrack.
Traditionally, this final 100 kilometers is the most congested, because that’s the minimum distance pilgrims must walk to earn a compostela, or an official pilgrimage certificate.
At around kilometer 48, Lourdes López Amboage runs a fruit stand alongside the Camino. She has been selling organic berries to pilgrims here for 26 years.
She said the Camino’s new popularity has fundamentally changed the experience.
“The saddest thing is that the true spirit of the Camino has really faded,” she said. “Now it’s more tourism than pilgrimage, and that really makes me sad.”

Lourdes López Amboage has been selling organic fruit to pilgrims for a quarter century. Many of them gift her with small tokens, trinkets and stickers to decorate the fruit stand.
Alexis Marshall/Marketplace
López Amboage said she often sees rowdy groups of people just looking for an adventure. Recently, she had to remove an iconic landmark of her business, a bright pink vintage car that sat parked next to the fruit stand. She said some group of pilgrims climbed on top of it to take a picture and made the roof cave in. It cost her hundreds of euros to repair.
It’s also changed the way she operates her business. She used to leave out boxes of raspberries from her garden and let pilgrims pay on the honor system. She said nowadays, that’s not possible.
“There are a lot more people [on the trail], and so there’s more danger,” López Amboage said.
These growing pains are felt by everyday residents too. Some have complained to local media about groups of pilgrims singing early in the morning or blocking traffic. And some neighbors along the final stretch say that all the catering to pilgrims has changed the fabric of their neighborhoods, and made housing more expensive.
But those concerns aren’t stemming the flow of people each year who climb the narrow streets into the old town of Santiago to reach the cathedral.

After arriving at the Santiago cathedral, pilgrims take a moment to rest and take off their packs.
Alexis Marshall/Marketplace
There’s something magnetic about those final meters, when pilgrims pass through a tunnel where there always seems to be a musician stationed playing Galician bagpipes. Then, finally, after days or weeks of walking, they step into a wide open plaza and stare up at the monumental church.
In the high season, hundreds of pilgrims a day pause there to snap photos, slip off their backpacks and shoes, and appreciate the long journey they’ve just completed.
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