Sometimes, it takes betrayal to reinvent yourself. In my case, it was a particularly painful instance of this, one that threw me off track both professionally and personally. My name is Steffen – or, as I’m often called now, Investigasteve. A blend of investigative curiosity and my given name, Steffen. I live in Fisterra, Galicia – at the end of the world. And it’s here where the Camino de Santiago has left its mark, both geographically and metaphorically.
Fifteen years ago, I went on my first pilgrimage, beginning a journey that would forever change my perspective on life. Until then, I was the classic “I’ve-got-my-life-together” type: a photovoltaic expert with Excel sheets so precise they could have been enshrined in Japanese temples. But life? Well, it had other plans.
A “friend” I once trusted didn’t just rob me of a potential twelve-drillion-Euro commission (yes, that’s an official unit for “a lot of money”) but also of my faith in humanity. My career was in ruins, my pride shattered, and even my duffel bag – a monstrous relic from the U.S. Army – seemed to mock me. So, what do you do when everything falls apart? You start walking. Far.
The Camino de Santiago isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s a brutally honest companion that forces you to face every poorly packed bag, every miscalculated decision, and every unmet expectation. When I laced up my English military knockoff boots – purchased in Hamburg-Wandsbek at a price my feet still haven’t forgiven – I had no idea this journey would offer more than just blisters. It became a restart. A reset button that forced me to reorder everything.
Fisterra – the end of the world – is now my home. Here, where the Atlantic’s waves crash against the land and the sky never stops telling stories, I’ve found a new purpose. I share my experiences, my mistakes, and my lessons. Because the Camino teaches that the path isn’t just for yourself. It’s meant to be shared.
As Investigasteve, I explore not just the paths of life but also the connections between people, places, and stories. My articles are like me: a bit chaotic, occasionally overloaded, but always sincere. And as I write my stories today – accompanied by a good Galician wine and the inevitable soundtrack of the ocean – one thing is clear to me: it’s never too late to take the first step. And it’s always the right time to let go of the burdens you no longer need to carry.
If you’re looking for a little inspiration, a dash of self-irony, and perhaps even the courage to begin your own journey, you’re in the right place. Welcome to my blog – and welcome to your very own Camino.
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