Walk West. 

For 42 days, my entire to-do list consisted of two words:  Walk West.  After years in Corporate America, and then the endless stress – and genuine joys – of starting, building, and running a business, the simplicity of the Camino de Santiago was exactly what I needed.  Everything I needed fit in my pack on my back.  The only decisions I needed to make were where to stop for breakfast.  And whether to have two. 

I started to breathe again. 

From my first day at my corporate job, I asked about the sabbatical policy.  I had studied languages, studied abroad and traveled whenever I could – always assuming that long-term travel would be something I’d have to wait to do until retirement, a concept that was 35+ years away.  I always saved for retirement, but it wasn’t until years later when I was drowning from the hopelessness of running a group entertainment business during COVID that I began to understand the actual math.  I discovered the FIRE movement and started spreadsheeting.  And I realized my husband and I were probably not too far away.

When he left me unexpectedly at the end of 2023, I was lost in every sense of the word.  I wasn’t sure my plans would hold up to divorce, or if I even wanted any of it on my own. 

The Camino emerged as the first thing that made me feel excited in those first few months alone.  I found an Albergue for the first night, and I booked.  I dove into gear shopping and long training walks and hoped that I was strong enough. 

During those 42 days and 550ish miles, I was undone by the kindness of strangers, found solace from people whose language I didn’t know but whose warm embrace I understood perfectly.  I cursed the never ending rain on top of a mountain and danced in the wind with new friends.  I left my burden at the Cruz de Ferro, and hoped upon hope that it was real.  Keep walking west. 

I made it to Santiago.  Then to Finisterre. I celebrated with a Michelin Star Dinner and I realized:  I like the finer things in life and I am also quite happy staying in a pilgrim hostel with a communal dinner.  While FIRE math was harder with one, it was still very, very possible.  I could do it on my own. 

I went home and started the process of selling my business. But I kept traveling.  Working remotely as I progressed the sale, learning the rhythms of slow travel, keeping the feeling alive. In September 2025, as my divorce finalized, I walked the Camino again — the Portuguese route this time.

Somewhere in the middle of all of it, I met someone. It still feels surreal — that he appeared at all, and that he’s not just willing but genuinely excited to take this leap with me.

I sold my business in spring 2026. We set off in June.  Indefinitely, intentionally, with only a carry-on each. 

Welcome to Fancy Pilgrim. This page is for anyone who enjoys the idea of travel but is past the party hostel stage and on-a-shoestring budget travel blogs written for 22 year-olds.  Those who love a long trail but also a tasting menu with a wine pairing.  For those that want to figure out how to fit more living into this life, and maybe not wait until “retirement age” to do it.