I’ve always loved to walk, alone, ever since I was a kid. Barefoot I’d go into the canyons of my neighborhood on the outskirts of Los Angeles, arms outstretched in the golden weeds beneath the oak and eucalyptus trees. On these walks, everything made sense. On these walks, I was free and at peace and so alive – each one like a mini pilgrimage from the version of myself I was when I left to a more enlightened one upon my return. Walking, for long enough, awakens you. 

 

In 2018, I completed my first true pilgrimage: the French Way of the Camino de Santiago. I fell in love with it, from the high plains of the Meseta to the lush Galician eucalyptus forests. I fell in love with the pain, the air, the warping of time, and the people most of all. 

 

In the spring of 2025, I returned to walk the Camino’s northern and primitive routes, and to document my journey. For 33 days and over 900 kilometers, I walked with a heavy pack and a camera around my neck — capturing vast fields of light, views of the Cantabrian Sea, horses and cows, flushed and tired faces, blistered feet, and all the love in between.

 

Through these images, I am to illuminate what cannot be described, only felt or heard in the wind out there on the trail. Out there, where I was awake awhile.