Via Stellaris Octo-Rosa – The Pilgrimage after the Pilgrimage

On 12 August 2026 at 8:29 pm, I set out from the Praza do Obradoiro in Santiago de Compostela on the first walk of the Via Stellaris Octo-Rosa. I had deliberately connected the time with the solar eclipse. The planned route covered around 560 kilometres to Nazaré in Portugal.

This time, Santiago was the beginning. After more than 14,000 kilometres on foot, I increasingly found myself asking: What do other pilgrims do after their pilgrimage?

I had noticed more and more often that many pilgrims experience the so-called Camino blues after their Camino. The path has come to an end, but what happens afterwards to what they have lived through and experienced along the way?

“The Camino ends in Santiago. Your path does not.” From this observation and this thought, I developed the Via Stellaris Octo-Rosa: the pilgrimage after the pilgrimage.

This question concerns me too. Even after many paths, I still know old patterns: functioning, pushing through, putting myself under pressure. The kilometres alone have not dissolved them.

The Via Stellaris uses existing paths and infrastructure, particularly sections of Portuguese pilgrimage routes, partly against the traditional pilgrimage direction. Its independence lies in its orientation from Santiago to Nazaré and in the themes that accompany the path. The walk is the stage for the inner journey.

I had planned 21 stages and seven seals. These seals are linked to places and themes. They were intended to open questions that could continue to work along the path ahead. These included vocation, letting go, unity, wisdom and structure, as well as acceptance and a conscious conclusion. What I would actually experience there remained open.

For me, the solar eclipse had a meaning that fitted this thought. For a brief moment, the light disappears. Afterwards, the cathedral is still there; the stones are the same. Yet your own perspective may have changed. The outside world does not have to have become different for me to perceive it differently.

With Vocatio, linked to Santiago and Tui, came the question of a conscious yes to continuing. What am I walking for? For me, “the pilgrimage after the pilgrimage” increasingly meant engaging with the person who had arrived in Santiago and with what he made of his experiences.

Weather and accommodation problems influenced the course. We had to change plans and also used buses and other forms of transport. The roughly 560 kilometres were the planned route; on this first walk, it was not completed entirely on foot.

There I stood with my concept, my route and my idea of how the first walk was supposed to go. And life said: Nope.

With Purgatio, the theme of clarification and letting go linked to Ponte de Lima and the Rio Lima, this took on a very practical meaning. I had to let go of expectations. Also of the demand that the first walk should meet an ideal drawn up beforehand.

Persevering and fighting were familiar to me. But my body was not the opponent on this path. Adapting was part of it. Recognising this and acting accordingly did not come equally easily in every situation.

In Porto and Gaia, I reflected on Unitas, unity. Different areas of my life were connected: pilgrimage, my books, working with people, Charity-Hiker and PLAN-0. At the same time, they needed their own place.

Unity does not mean blending everything into one. As in a backpack, different things have different functions. I had to distinguish what belonged to me, what belonged to the association, what belonged to my professional work and what could simply remain an experience. A new idea did not have to become a new project straight away either.

In Coimbra, with Sapientia, an insight took shape that is among the most important of this path for me: An experience is not an insight. And an insight is not yet a change.

I can walk for a long time, experience intense encounters and arrive in Santiago deeply moved. Months later, old patterns can still reappear. This applies to me too. More than 14,000 kilometres do not protect me from wanting to force something or demanding too much of myself again.

Kilometres alone do not make a wise person.

The question, then, was which of my experiences I was already putting into practice. Had I understood something, or did it also show in how I handled a new situation? Here, the pilgrimage after the pilgrimage became more concrete for me.

Tomar and the Convento de Cristo were linked to Templum, the theme of structure and centring. I was thinking about what was essential and what should be given room. There were many ideas and possibilities. Not all of them had to be put into practice.

I know the pressure to function and do everything well. Even from new ideas, I could build myself another system of overwhelm. For me, structure therefore meant making decisions and letting things wait. Not turning every idea into a project. Not taking up every possibility straight away.

Alix and I stayed in Fátima for three days. We extended our stay twice. It was a real interruption of moving on.

Although many people were out and about there, I felt a particular calm. To me, the whole town felt like one large church, a place of encounter. There was bustle, and yet it felt as though everything was at peace.

The experiences of the previous days could rest there. Earlier themes were still present. Letting go was not finished just because we had left Ponte de Lima behind. Situations brought it up again. I could observe how far I had already internalised something and where I still fell back into old reactions.

“Lowering the sword” became an image for me. Persevering, falling, getting up and carrying on had long been part of my life. These abilities could support me. But I did not have to fight for everything. I no longer had to earn my life at a bloody cost.

After those three days, we left Fátima with greater calm. Then Alix developed severe knee pain. We could still walk a little further. Eventually, we took a bus towards Nazaré.

Once again, our plan met a physical limit. This time, the decision came more easily. We noticed that we were indeed reacting more calmly. For me, some of what had happened along the path was already showing in our behaviour.

In Nazaré, the first thing was to find our accommodation. It was up in Sítio. So we took the funicular straight up, settled in and then walked towards the church and the lighthouse.

Originally, I had planned Sítio for a separate final day, as a place for looking back and changing perspective. In fact, it was already part of our arrival.

At the church, a discussion arose between us. There, we were initially able to let go of the immediate tension. On the way to the lighthouse, each of us considered our own perspective. We talked things through at the lighthouse.

We were both able to stand up for ourselves, defend our boundaries and still acknowledge the other person. We managed to find a shared consensus. The private details do not belong in this report. For me, this moment was a final test of whether we had taken in what we had lived through and experienced along the way and learned from it — each of us individually and together.

From the lighthouse, I saw the same Atlantic in two different ways. On one side, the comparatively gentle sea at the bathing beach; on the other, its immense force. Between them, the lighthouse.

I connected this image with the situation we had just experienced. Gentleness and clear boundaries could exist at the same time. So could closeness and standing up for oneself. For me, it was about bringing both together.

We walked back together to the viewpoint by the church. Preparations were already underway there for the fiesta the following day in honour of the Lady of Nazaré.

An inner calm spread through me. A certainty: I was not merely talking about change. I had realised that I was already living it and had anchored it within me. There was contentment, calm and happiness.

The sense of having arrived inwardly was already there. It became more firmly established, or I became more aware of it with each individual moment. In my perception, it also became noticeable outwardly. We returned to the accommodation and prepared everything for the final day.

We deliberately started that day slowly. We had set our departure for 4 pm. There was time for a conscious farewell and for consolidating what was there.

We went to the funicular, which took us back down the hill, and then walked quietly and reflectively to the beach. At the edge, at the foot of the cliffs, we found a quieter spot. There, we wanted to seal the conclusion with the salt and the vastness of the sea.

We spent about two hours there. We reflected on the journey and took in the moment as it was. Only after about an hour did we notice that the ocean was taking up more of the beach again. We had to move back a little to avoid getting our feet wet.

We consciously connected with the sea. I stood in the water with my shoes on; the waves kept reaching me. Then I deliberately immersed my hands in it, similar to the symbolic effect of washing one's hands. For me, it meant cleansing and letting go of old, limiting beliefs. At the same time, it was a sealing of the new.

There, we consciously brought this journey to a close.

During the first walk, it had become clear that the themes of the seals continued to work beyond their respective places. They resurfaced later and connected with one another. In Nazaré, I could recognise much of this in a concrete situation.

This is my experience of the Via Stellaris Octo-Rosa. What another person experiences on this path and what meaning they find in it remains open.