Walking My Camino

The mist, much like her fatigue, was grounded in reality. Five thousand miles away, her daughter sent one of her many encouraging texts from London: “You got this, Mom!” but it wouldn’t be received until nightfall. Cell tower signals had been unreliable, though that was hardly a concern. Several days earlier, a minor earthquake had occurred upon her arrival in the town of San Pablo. The unforeseen always needed to be anticipated when trekking. Nevertheless, Conolly would ultimately reach her final destination on El Camino de Costa Rica intact. Striding across the black sand beach in the town of Quepos on June 28, 2024, she paused to watch the whitecaps of the Pacific Ocean rolling against the horizon.

She had arrived.

After trekking 280 kilometers across Costa Rica, the Earth's green lung was far behind her, and the sea air against her face, mingling with the nearby urban sprawl, abruptly signaled that it was time to go home.

But long before making it to Quepos, Conolly had worries.

Snakes had been a concern— even a genuine concern for her typically laid-back husband, who always supported her travels. Two weeks before, when boarding her flight to San José, she knew that surprise encounters were likely in the wild. Costa Rica has 22 species of venomous snakes, and Conolly would be traveling through densely forested areas along the Camino; she wondered if snake guards were more than just a suggestion. But they were merely that. The clear and present dangers for the Caymanian included dehydration, overheating, and sometimes the wet and cold while hiking at higher altitudes. Costa Rica’s flora and fauna were decidedly gentler than its elements. Rushing waterfalls and old-growth wonders stood against the distant calls of the elusive, bright-winged quetzal in the cloud forest. And beneath the jungle's dense green canopy, sunlight flickered through the leaves, danced on Conolly’s face, and kissed the rain-jeweled ferns at her feet. “The Earth’s soul spoke to me in Costa Rica,” she said. She might have even shed a few tears if she were the crying type. But there were only tears from hearty laughter on the Camino— and there was pain.

Planning for the unforeseen

Conolly had packed a small medical kit she would need to use more than once during her journey. Becoming the first Caymanian to complete the Camino de Costa Rica would not be easy for a 51-year-old mother of three who had lived her entire life at sea level. The physical challenges would be considerable. However, Conolly had been preparing her body for the past six years, and Costa Rica was not her first Camino. Alone, she had walked 115 kilometers of the Camino Frances, part of the famous medieval pilgrimage, El Camino de Santiago, in northern Spain. Completing Costa Rica’s Camino would be just one chapter in a larger personal journey—one that included climbing to the top of Jamaica’s Blue Mountains with her youngest son in 2018, gaining confidence as she hiked to a monastery on a 3,120-meter mountain in Bhutan a year later, and walking for days in Nepal across the foothills of the Himalayas in 2022 to fulfill a lifelong dream of seeing Mount Everest—Sagarmatha, Goddess of the Sky.

El Camino de Costa Rica was meant to be the culmination. One day, finishing this might open new doors to other adventures, but on that final morning, Conolly reflected on all she had accomplished. Even though every muscle in her body ached as her boots sank deeper into the warm sand, she kicked them off, rolled up her hiking pants, waded into the Pacific Ocean, and smiled for a picture she would share with family and friends. “I made it!” she texted. After hitting send, the exhaustion from trekking on the Camino and the realization that she would soon say goodbye to her new friends washed over her.

The adrenaline was fading.

Conolly had been traveling on foot for 14 days, the longest of her previous adventures. Only resting to eat meals and sleep in small hotels and tents— the two-week El Camino de Costa Rica was said to test the most experienced trekkers, not to mention budding adventurers like Conolly. Furthermore, the 14-day expedition was only recommended for advanced or intermediate hikers, and Conolly wondered if she was up to the task. Trekking across Costa Rica would present more physical demands than she had faced while walking on the Camino de Frances in Northern Spain. So, Conolly elected to complete her second Camino with formal support. “Nothing prepares you for walking like walking,” she said, “but an experienced guide is essential, too, when trekking in tropical conditions on mixed terrain.”

Conolly chose UrriTrek, a company recommended by National Geographic and one of Costa Rica's most experienced Camino guide companies. For 14 days, Ana Trujillo, a guide from the company, watched over her carefully and supported her and other fellow adventurers from Mexico to Germany. Together, they hiked across Costa Rica from the Caribbean Sea to the Pacific Ocean, a richly biodiverse region home to some of Central America's most dramatic cloud forests, jungles, National Parks, rural farmlands, and remote Indigenous communities.

Sharing such an exceptional experience would also present bonding opportunities for Conolly. After arriving as strangers, aged 24 to 69, many in Conolly’s group quickly formed friendships. Some even felt like family after she completed the expedition. Barbara “Barb” Howarth from Southern California was one such person and became Conolly’s constant companion, much-needed support system, and fellow “blister sister” along the way. “Meeting Barb was an unexpected gift and an answer to my fears,” Conolly said, “because I was questioning my life choices from day one on the Camino.”

Questioning my life choices

Conolly admitted she was in excruciating pain from day one. And despite undertaking past treks, recent pilates classes, cardio, and breath work to prepare for the trip, Conolly emerged as the slowest in the group after hiking 25 kilometers from Goshen to Cimarrones— a distance longer than her home of Grand Cayman. Still, never one to pursue trekking to win a race Conolly accepted her standing with grace. For her, outdoor adventures had always been about communing with nature and showing her children that their mother could take on new challenges later in life, so she said, “I did not care how slow I walked as long as I made it to day two.” And on that first day, after a leisurely start with a boat ride from the Goshen Docks across the mangrove lake, Conolly began the long 14-day journey on foot. Walking for miles past vast tracks of farmlands in the midday heat, she made slow altitude gains, pushing farther away from the Caribbean coast until she came to train tracks that cut across a rural road and had to hop over before a cargo train came careening past her.

“The physical exertion, compounded by the intense heat and humidity, were not conditions I experienced in the Blue Mountains, Northern Spain, or the Himalayas,” she explained. “On previous hikes, I was used to drinking two liters of water daily, but on this Camino, I had to adjust the amount of water I carried because it was just so hot!” Still, the punishing physicality of hiking in intense heat would pale in comparison to the challenges unfolding in the next few days.

This is why ignorance can be bliss, and Conolly fell into a deep sleep by 7 p.m. that first night relieved that she had made it. By the following morning, before she left the hotel UrriTrek had booked for the group, she unwrapped her feet to find more encouragement. Her day-one blister had reduced. Before losing Wi-Fi, she quickly shared the good news with her circle of support, and her eldest son reminded her that she was in control of her pace. But good fortune would not last.

What’s worse than an uphill battle?

For over 15 kilometers, the group hiked toward the cloud-covered hills of Las Brisas—a lush and remote community on the Camino. Upon arrival, they had completed a positive elevation gain of over 700 meters and a loss of just under 200 meters. Her blister, now blisters, had ballooned in size. Conolly was shocked at how dramatically the terrain had changed and how quickly they climbed and descended in two days.

What could be worse than an uphill battle?

“Hiking uphill and downhill!”

As luck would have it, this time, pain was a shared experience. Conolly could commiserate. Others on the Camino were struggling to maintain healthy feet, too. Some of the other experienced hikers confessed they also developed day-one blisters. “Seventy percent of the Camino is trekking up and down, and that was a challenge for a few of us, even experienced hikers,” Conolly explained. “Heat was another factor,” she added. But the UrriTrek guide, Ana, was mindful and considerate of every hiker in the group, whether some were pushing ahead or moving slower.

The guide had also planned a much-needed rest stop near a wooded area. Local cooks along the Camino prepared warm, handmade tortillas wrapped in banana leaves. The group enjoyed their meal in the shade, catching their breath and sharing war wounds while listening to birdsong.

There were other balms for sore feet. Conolly’s accommodations to end each day of hiking were well-deserved rewards. For the first two nights, she stayed in a hotel nestled in a lush valley, and these red-roofed ranch-style buildings with sweeping verandas overlooked a sea of greenery. Karaoke and Father’s Day celebrations kicked off in the dining hall one of those nights, drawing in the surrounding community to enjoy the entertainment. The atmosphere was festive, with bright multicolored lights flashing from a large stage as a live band rocked the house. All night, couples spun and dipped on the dance floor while the group relaxed, rested their feet, and toasted to a long day of hiking. Conolly, Howarth, and her friend and experienced hiker, Bev Williams shared laughs, forming the blister-sisterhood.

Time to pull out the medical kit

But Conolly was quietly struggling. During the first three days of week one, the mother of three was dehydrated and had difficulty putting one blistered foot in front of the other. Barb Howarth became more than just a blister sister then. As one of the more experienced hikers in the group, Howarth slowed her pace and chose to stay back with Conolly so she would never be alone. A warm, quick-witted woman, Howarth liked to pepper her conversations with an expletive or two. So, Conolly laughed through her discomfort and kept plodding, sometimes resting against a tree to take in some much-needed electrolytes and slow her heart rate. “Barb was my girl,” Conolly later texted a friend in Grand Cayman, “she never left my side and was so accepting of our shared challenges." For the next few days, Conolly could focus on maintaining her strength and keeping dehydration at bay. If there was a silver lining, her painful blisters no longer took center stage. A few days later, when she and Howarth reached Etapa 6 (stage six) of the Camino, they posed for a picture. Big, genuine smiles were captured in the frame. Still, both rested against the high dirt embankment on the path for support. It had been that kind of journey.

But balance typically returns with persistence. Early one morning, Conolly woke up feeling better and took a picture of her feet before carefully wrapping her blisters. Sharing her progress and temporary setbacks with her children was crucial. “I always share my limitations with them without shame.” Dealing with a temporary illness and blisters, Conolly expressed that she also wanted her children to know she was always ready to listen to her body, “even if that meant I had to leave the Camino to take care of myself.” They were supportive, so Conolly eagerly prepared for each day, “knowing it could be my last day trekking if my body didn’t hold up!”

Fortunately, there were distractions from the pain on the Camino as she progressed. “The sights and sounds never disappointed me,” Conolly said; the vibrant sounds of wildlife provided a constant escape from the discomfort. Usually several paces behind the UrriTrek guide, Conolly kept her eyes on the distant hills covered in mist. “I never wanted to know precisely where I was on the trail,” she remarked, “I just kept moving forward.” More sure-footed than during the first few days, Conolly paused on a steep incline to text a friend with renewed excitement: “The air is fresh and filled with the sounds of crickets, birds, and all sorts of little creatures. We saw about five macaws sitting together. We heard toucans… and howler monkeys in the distance…” As she approached the Costa Rican rainforest, she moved steadily, using her trekking poles for leverage to climb the steep dirt road, which allowed her to take in the sweeping panorama of blue-green mountains beyond a wood-post fence. Taking advantage of the strong cell signal, she sent another message: “Fantastic vistas can only be achieved by walking uphill!”

Had she found her groove?

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the wind whipping against her face smelled of rain. Conolly picked up the pace. “Buenos dias!” A pickup driver blew his horn as he rounded the corner and kicked up dust, roaring past the group with a friendly wave. People on bicycles greeted them, too, zipping by. Small children stood outside their homes to wave as they passed. Conolly imagined they wondered why anyone would willingly walk in the midday heat, which would be a fair judgment. Arriving at the day’s accommodations later on was more than a relief. The cozy room provided less separation between her and the natural world, which was always one of her primary travel goals.

More than just adventure

Tourism can be extractive and exploitative for local communities in the Global South. When foreign tourists seek the ‘exotic’ at the lowest prices, there is frequently no fair exchange. The luxury market can often be much the same—upscale hotels regularly focus on enriching developers, not local residents. As an industry, tourism harms many communities worldwide.

The Camino de Costa Rica follows a very different model. While sustainable tourism is often treated as a buzzword, the businesses along the Camino genuinely live up to the expectations. Established in 2018 as a trekking route by the Asociación Mar a Mar, the Camino aims to attract hikers to Costa Rica's remote areas. The initiative seeks to regenerate the declining economy and tackle poverty and limited educational opportunities in local and Indigenous communities without causing significant disruption. Thus, preserving the natural environment is not merely an aspirational objective but essential for the business. Today, you will not find any multinational hotel chains along the Camino trails. The area continues to be remarkably local. Communities with ancestral roots in the region have largely remained intact and on their ancestral lands.

One of the reasons it was important for Conolly to choose UrriTrek as a guide company is that they are also passionate about breaking the cycle of extraction. “As a Costa Rican-owned and operated business, we support Indigenous communities along the Camino, even those living in inaccessible areas,” said Andrés Meneses Ovares, the general manager of UrriTrek. He added, “It was our honor to guide the first Caymanian across the Camino de Costa Rica and also have her experience the local and indigenous guides, artisans, and local operators we partner with who provide hospitality and accommodations along the Camino” much like the charming cabins Conolly arrived at one evening during the first week.

Her stay at these cabins was restorative, if not amusing. In the blue light of dawn, she awoke to the persistent trills of crickets and geckos in the forest. In the distance, vehicles rumbled up and down the hillside. But the real alarm clock was the very vocal rooster beneath her window. Conolly remembers laughing as she swung her legs out of bed. The familiar sounds of Grand Cayman were always present, no matter how far she traveled. After a shower that morning, she messaged her husband that she felt reinvigorated after her stay.

And these are a few of my favorite things

Conolly had fully recovered by day five, blisters and all. By day six, she felt stronger and in higher spirits—“Barb’s companionship and wickedly funny observations about everyone and everything kept me going,” she said, “she’s such a character!” Howarth’s diversions would prove necessary at this midpoint of the Camino. The group would climb to a maximum elevation of 1,200 meters while experiencing an extraordinary elevation loss of 947 meters as they trekked downhill. Once again, what’s worse than an uphill battle? Yet, persevering toward the Rio Macho Reserve became one of Conolly’s cherished memories. However, days before that notable achievement, Conolly had to get into a cage.

While trekking through Indigenous lands with the group’s Indigenous guide—a requirement for accessing these regions—Clenet Lazaro, a member of the Cabécar indigenous group, led the way through the dense, reforested indigenous lands. After walking several kilometers beneath a lush green canopy, Conolly and Howarth paused to listen. A river rushed in the distance, but amidst the sound of the water, faint metallic squeaks puzzled Conolly. When she reached the riverbank, she saw it. Waiting for the group and suspended above the river was a cage, not a trap, but a secure platform for safely transporting people across the river. The metal bars along the sides were designed to prevent riders from falling. Space wasn’t entirely limited, either. Two or more people could sit comfortably inside and be pulled across the river to the other side. After they made it across, with Lazaro’s help, Howarth snapped a picture of Conolly, and she excitedly texted her family that “traveling by cage was the most fun I’ve had on the Camino!”

For Conolly, the unconventional is always an adventure. However, the journey by cage was not the ultimate highlight. Conolly has Mayan roots, and spending time with Indigenous people later deepened her commitment to connecting with her heritage. “Listening to my guide Clenet speak with other Indigenous people in his language reminded me of my childhood in Belize, hearing my maternal grandparents converse in Mayan,” she said. “The Camino teaches you what it wants to teach you, so I stayed attuned to the whispers,” Conolly added. The Camino also “teaches us to trust what we can’t always see.” By walking the paths of the puma, jaguar, and tapir—a living fossil and the largest land mammal in Costa Rica that has existed on Earth for nearly 20 million years—Conolly was able to touch the past and present simultaneously, even though each remained elusive and out of sight. Still, for 14 days, Conolly found herself surrounded by staggering abundance—plant life that faced no obstacles to growth, hundreds.

of butterflies, strange mushrooms sprouting against towering tree trunks, and flowers of every color. “I understood why the region is one of the most biodiverse places on the planet,” she said, “and it was an honor to bear witness.” On day eight, Conolly texted her family with a broad smile: "I saw weird and wonderful things today—waterfalls and views for days…”

Flash forward to the final 48 hours of the Camino. Conolly arrived at Naranjillo and experienced another highlight. Heavy fog enveloped the camp and the surrounding area where the group planned to spend the night. Conolly admitted, “The accommodations certainly weren’t hotel-grade comfort.” Her tent for the night rested on a wooden platform beneath an open-air zinc roof. However, after enjoying what she believed to be one of the best meals on the Camino, a deluge descended. Bunkered inside her tent, she slipped into her sleeping bag, warm and dry as the rain thundered against the zinc roof above. “I think between the fresh air and the rain, I was lulled into the deepest and most restful sleep I may have had on the Camino,” she reflected, which set her up to finish the Camino strong.

This is why

Conolly is typically a private person. While she is known to be fun-loving and social within her close circle, she remains fiercely protective of what matters most to her. She has also been hesitant to discuss her travels openly. Trekking around the world has been a deeply personal journey she has kept close to her heart. “I never posted about my travels on social media because what I did was just for me and, ultimately, my children.” However, Conolly’s perspective gradually shifted after completing the Camino. She began to wonder if other Caymanian mothers her age were embarking on similar journeys and why she hadn’t read about them. Thus, she decided to start the conversation by sharing her experience with Cayman Parent.

“My travels have been incredibly rewarding on a personal level, but it has become about modeling the behaviors I want to see in my children. I want to inspire them to find what lights them up inside and pursue it, no matter what that looks like for them,” she explained. “I also hope that seeing me accept my limitations encourages them to accept theirs and that they feel supported by witnessing their father encourage me to follow my dreams,” Conolly added. “Everyone is walking their own Camino. Whatever that path looks like for a mother, I believe how you walk your Camino reflects how you parent your child. Our children are very attuned to us. How you live your life influences your parenting, which applies to friends and family who also parent other people’s children. Our children see who we are. They notice everything”. As a parent, Conolly hopes that her children notice her struggles, failures, resilience, and successes on the Camino and that they take those lessons into their own lives.

~ END ~

Marilyn Conolly lives on Grand Cayman with her husband and youngest child. Her two older children live overseas. She has a background in social development and will lead a nature retreat to Panama in June 2025. She travelled with Cayman Airways to Panama and Copa Airlines to Costa Rica. Follow her adventures on Instagram @marilynconolly

Reference Links:

Urritrek: https://urritrekcostarica.com/

Asociación Mar a Mar: https://www.caminodecostarica.org/inicio