Finding Home
When the pilgrimage is less about the destination, but finding what we all long for
A traditional pilgrimage starts at home. So we walk from my Santa Fe home.
I say “we” because I invited a special group of friends to join me (The Pilgrim on Pilgrimage). Walking 21 miles to El Sanctuario de Chimayó in one long day is not a normal ask. Yet each person easily says “yes.”
At dawn, we begin a walk down a flat stretch of Bishop’s Lodge Road. We are flanked by the sounds of awakening birds and a setting full moon.
We walk as individuals, in silence.
A few miles in, we join civilization—cars on an adjacent highway to our right, signs of decades of everyday life to our left. There’s a long-closed clothing store. A gas station-turned-Art Station. Men in colorful low-rider cars. We are surprised to see only a few fellow pilgrims.
We walk in pairs. The conversation is easy. We met as strangers and became special friends while walking in Costa Vicentina, Portugal last March. After one year apart, the hardest part knowing where to begin.
We continue on the High Road to Taos. The leaves of the cottonwoods are a lime green shade of Spring. There’s snow on distant peaks of the Sangre de Cristo mountains. The single-lane highway is filled with cars passing in each direction. If you are driving this road on Good Friday, you are either going to or coming from the Sanctuario de Chimayó.
Our walking pace is becoming remarkably slower. Our legs feel like stiff logs. It’s time to begin the mental gymnastics—choosing gratitude over negativity.
In this stretch of rolling hills, we see more pilgrims. The couple pushing a carriage with two niños. A man carrying a heavy black wooden cross. The two women in workout gear who blow past us. Two male walkers carrying half-consumed bottles of beer.
Each short hill feels like a mountain. But we don’t say it out loud. Our conversations get lighter. Words are lost in brain fog. We notice the roadside crosses are numbered and must represent the Stations of the Cross. We try to remember how many stations there are—10? 12? 16? (there are traditionally 14).
In this stretch, we connect to the community. There’s a man outside his food truck serving horchata. A woman with an open car trunk packed with bottled water and Tootsie Rolls. A team under a tent offering Capri Sun drink packets and Smucker’s Uncrustables. An afternoon of snacking like a kindergartener feels welcome.
We thank each supporter. We stop and chat. Each person has a personal Chimayó story. They’ve made the pilgrimage. Today they choose to be generous in support.
My husband Bob passes by and pulls up on the roadside. He brings encouragement and a cooler of cold beverages. A few ride the last few miles with him to the church. Three of us continue walking.
It’s become a game of putting one foot in front of the other.
Even the sight of a final downhill descent to our destination doesn’t speed our slowed pace. We turn right at the sign and weave through parked cars to enter the sacred grounds. There’s a hall of photos honoring those who have passed. We light candles.
I enter the 200 year old church for a moment of silence while my friends visit the side chapel to collect the Chimayó’s famed “Holy Dirt.” We enter the adjacent Santo Niño Chapel in honor of children, alive and departed. The experience stays with each of us.
We cram into our car and return to Santa Fe. We fear the forthcoming muscle tightening and what we will find upon removing our shoes and socks.
We order pizza to-go from our pilgrimage start at Tesuque Village Market. At my home, we sabrage a bottle of New Mexico’s Grüet sparkling wine in celebration. We feel accomplished—for doing something we didn’t train for, but trusted our bodies could still do. We sit by the roaring fire. We share our tales of the day.
Traditionally, pilgrims start a pilgrimage at home. That is why we started at my home.
Today reminds us that home is more than a physical structure.
Home is a feeling. It’s where you are understood and supported. It’s who you are when you are shrouded in safety. It’s that place where you put aside the stress of your emails, workplace, and the broader world and can just…be.
Our Good Friday pilgrimage to the Sanctuario de Chimayó started and ended at home.
To my special group of people…more than the destination, you are home.
Pilgrimage can happen at home and abroad. If you are inspired to make one, join me and Walking Mentorship in September 2026 for our one-week Camino de Santiago adventure—see Venture Travel.