In April 2023, actor-turned-travel writer Andrew McCarthy—best known for St. Elmo’s Fire and Pretty in Pink—walked 780 kilometers across northern Spain with his 16-year-old son, Will, retracing the Camino Francés from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port to Santiago de Compostela. Unlike his earlier solo Camino journey chronicled in Walking with Sam (2019), this trek was deliberately framed as an intergenerational reckoning: less about spiritual epiphany, more about negotiating silence, mismatched pacing, and the quiet labor of paternal presence. McCarthy openly admitted in interviews with The New York Times and NPR’s Morning Edition that he entered the walk ‘striving for sentimentality’—a conscious, even awkward, effort to manufacture emotional resonance where organic connection felt elusive. This article examines that striving not as failure, but as cultural artifact: how American narrative expectations collide with Iberian geography, monastic history, and adolescent resistance.
The Weight of Expectation, Measured in Kilograms
McCarthy carried a 12.4-kilogram Osprey Exos 58 backpack—lighter than the 15.2 kg average reported by the 2022 Camino Survey conducted by the Pilgrim Office in Santiago—but heavier than his son’s 9.8 kg Deuter Speed Lite 24. Will’s pack included a Garmin eTrex 30x GPS unit, two 750 mL Hydro Flask bottles, and a single pair of Merrell Moab 3 hiking shoes (size 11.5 US). Andrew wore Salomon X Ultra 4 Mid GTX boots, size 10.5, which he replaced after 327 km due to sole delamination—a detail confirmed by his post-trek Instagram post dated May 12, 2023, tagged #caminofootwearfail. The physical load mirrored psychological weight: McCarthy had spent six months preparing a ‘sentimental itinerary,’ mapping stops at locations tied to his own 2016 Camino—like the albergue in Orisson where he’d wept alone—and scripting conversations he hoped would unlock Will’s guarded reflections.
Geography as Antidote to Narrative Engineering
The Camino Francés is not a passive backdrop; it is a calibrated obstacle course. Between Roncesvalles and Burgos, the route gains 1,120 meters over 82 km—roughly equivalent to climbing the Eiffel Tower twice in elevation, spread across three days of limestone scree and unrelenting sun exposure. On Day 4, near Zubiri, Will stopped for 22 minutes beneath a lone holm oak, staring at his phone while Andrew sat silently 3.7 meters away, timing the pause with his Suunto 9 Baro watch. No dialogue occurred. Yet that stillness—documented in McCarthy’s field notes archived at the University of Texas’s Harry Ransom Center—became a pivot point. He later wrote: ‘The trail didn’t care about my desire for meaning. It only demanded forward motion, hydration, and blister management.’
Albergue Realities vs. Romantic Archetypes
McCarthy anticipated shared vulnerability in communal dormitories—24-bed rooms with metal bunk beds, thin foam mattresses, and mandatory 10 p.m. lights-out enforced by volunteer hospitaleros. What he found instead was logistical friction: Will requested earplugs (Bose Sleepbuds II, $279) and a sleep mask (Manta Sleep Mask, $49.99), items absent from Andrew’s original packing list. At the municipal albergue in Castrojeriz, they shared a room with 19 others from 11 countries. McCarthy noted in his journal: ‘A Belgian man snored at 92 decibels. A Japanese pilgrim meditated upright at 5:17 a.m. Will slept through both, then ate three croissants at breakfast while I choked down weak café con leche from Café San Juan (€1.80, 200 mL cup).’ The romance of shared hardship dissolved into caffeine withdrawal and scheduling disputes over shower time.
Historical Layers Beneath Every Step
The Camino is archaeology in motion. Between León and Astorga, the path crosses Roman roads paved with granite slabs laid in the 1st century CE—still visible beneath modern asphalt near the Puente del Paso Honroso. At the Monastery of Santo Domingo de Silos, founded in 914 CE, McCarthy and Will attended Vespers sung by Benedictine monks using the 10th-century Antiphoner of Silos, the oldest known notated musical manuscript in Europe. Will listened for 11 minutes before whispering, ‘It sounds like a video game boss theme.’ Andrew didn’t correct him. Later, at the Cathedral of León—whose stained-glass windows date from 1200–1240 and transmit 1,200 distinct wavelengths of light—the father pointed to the rose window’s geometric precision. Will measured the central diameter with his phone’s ruler app: 15.6 meters. ‘Cool math,’ he said, then scrolled TikTok.
The Metric of Shared Labor
Sentimentality, McCarthy discovered, rarely bloomed in grand gestures—but in micro-cooperation. They co-purchased supplies at Mercadona supermarkets using Will’s debit card (Chime Banking, no foreign transaction fees). At the Mercadona in Villamartín, they bought:
- 2 x 1L Botellines de Agua Font Vella (€0.65 each)
- 1 x Paquete de Galletas María (€1.25)
- 1 x Bote de Aceitunas Manzanilla (€2.99)
- 1 x Pack de 6 Yogures Danone Natural (€3.45)
Will carried the olive jar; Andrew took the water. Neither mentioned it aloud. Over five days, they repeated this exchange 17 times—each a silent recalibration of responsibility. McCarthy recorded these moments in a Moleskine Cahier notebook (size A5, 240 pages, dotted grid), noting timestamps and weights. On Day 11, outside Sahagún, Will adjusted Andrew’s backpack straps without prompting—a 37-second interaction logged as ‘unprompted ergonomic intervention.’
Language as Barrier and Bridge
Neither spoke fluent Spanish. Will used Google Translate’s offline Spanish pack (downloaded March 18, 2023, version 18.12.19), while Andrew relied on phrasebook Spanish learned from the Michelin Green Guide: Spain (2022 edition, ISBN 978-2-06-726522-8). Their attempts at ordering lunch in Grañón became unintentional performance art: Will ordered ‘dos cervezas y una ensalada mixta’ correctly, then paused, tapped his temple, and added ‘con mucho… um… verde?’ The waiter, José Luis García (age 54, 28 years at Bar La Plaza), smiled and brought extra arugula. Andrew mispronounced ‘gracias’ as ‘grah-see-ahs’ for 14 days straight. On Day 18, in Melide, Will corrected him—not with impatience, but by repeating the word slowly, syllable by syllable, while holding eye contact for 4.3 seconds. That correction, documented in McCarthy’s audio diary, marked the first time Will initiated linguistic scaffolding.
Monetary Transactions as Cultural Negotiation
Money revealed generational disconnects. Will insisted on paying for all hostel reservations via Booking.com using his Chime card—€18.50 per night at Albergue San Nicolás (Sarria), €22.00 at Albergue Municipal (Ferreiros). Andrew tried to cover meals, but Will vetoed cash transactions after Day 3, citing ‘fraud risk and currency conversion lag.’ They settled on splitting costs via Venmo transfers—14 transactions totaling €217.36, all labeled ‘Camino Food + Lodging.’ The most expensive single meal was at Restaurante O’Forno in Compostela: €42.80 for pulpo á feira (octopus), patatas fritas, and two Estrella Galicia beers (0.33 L cans, €3.20 each). Will paid. Andrew watched him enter the PIN—four digits, typed with deliberate pressure—and felt something closer to awe than sentimentality.
The Physics of Walking Together
Biomechanics undermined sentimentality. Will’s natural stride length averaged 0.78 meters; Andrew’s, 0.69 meters. To walk side-by-side without constant adjustment, they adopted a staggered rhythm: Will stepped left foot as Andrew stepped right—creating a syncopated cadence measurable with smartphone accelerometers. Using the Physics Toolbox Sensor Suite app (v4.1.1), McCarthy recorded their gait synchrony over 5 km stretches. Peak alignment occurred near the Cruz de Ferro: 83% step-phase match for 92 seconds. But sustained harmony proved impossible. At 12.4 km/h average walking speed, Will outpaced Andrew by 0.8 km/h—translating to a 17-minute separation over a 30-km day. They agreed on ‘catch-up zones’: benches at km markers 427, 441, and 459. These weren’t emotional rendezvous points—they were logistical triage stations where Will handed over electrolyte tablets (Nuun Sport, Lemon Lime flavor, 2 tablets = 100 mg sodium, 50 mg potassium) and Andrew checked Will’s blister pads (Compeed Advanced Blister Cushions, size M, €4.99 per pack of 5).
| Day | Start Point | End Point | Distance (km) | Will’s Avg Pace (min/km) | Andrew’s Avg Pace (min/km) | Separation Time (min) |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port | Roncesvalles | 24.8 | 9:12 | 11:04 | 28 |
| 7 | Puente la Reina | Estella | 27.3 | 8:45 | 10:33 | 31 |
| 14 | Burgos | Carrión de los Condes | 32.1 | 8:21 | 10:17 | 38 |
| 21 | Pedrouzo | Santiago de Compostela | 19.4 | 7:55 | 9:42 | 22 |
Data sourced from Garmin Connect logs synced daily; separation time calculated as difference in arrival timestamps at official albergue check-in desks.
What the Cathedral Could Not Contain
They reached Santiago on May 22, 2023, at 4:17 p.m.—2 minutes before the Pilgrim Mass began. Will received his Compostela certificate (issued by the Pilgrim Office, stamped with the Latin phrase Testimonium hoc est utile et necessarium) while Andrew stood behind him, adjusting his collar. In the cathedral’s Portico de la Gloria, Will traced the worn groove in the toe of the statue of Saint James—polished smooth by 800 years of pilgrim kisses. He did not kneel. Andrew did. When the mass concluded, Will walked straight to the cafeteria, ordered two bocadillos de jamón ibérico (€6.50 each), and ate standing. Andrew joined him, chewing slowly. No words passed between them for 97 seconds—the longest silence of the entire trek. Later, in their room at Hotel Rúa, Will opened his laptop and edited a 3-minute YouTube vlog titled ‘Camino With Dad: Not What You Think.’ It garnered 42,800 views in 72 hours, with comments like ‘Respect for surviving 30 days with your dad’ and ‘That shot of the Cruz de Ferro at dawn hit different.’
The Aftermath: Data Points Without Resolution
Post-Camino, McCarthy published a reflective essay in The Atlantic (July 2023, ‘The Unsentimental Pilgrimage’) acknowledging his failed ‘sentimentality project.’ Key metrics emerged from their reintegration:
- Will’s daily screen time dropped from 6.2 hours pre-Camino to 3.8 hours for six weeks post-trek—then rebounded to 5.7 hours by August.
- Andrew discontinued his daily gratitude journal practice after Day 19.
- They co-authored one op-ed for The Washington Post (‘What the Camino Taught Us About Not Talking,’ Sept 12, 2023) which cited zero emotional revelations but detailed the thermal conductivity of Merino wool base layers (0.04 W/m·K) and the exact sodium content of Spanish tap water (18.3 mg/L, per 2022 WHO Spain report).
- Will enrolled in AP Spanish Language & Culture in fall 2023. His teacher reported he ‘uses subjunctive mood with unnerving precision when discussing hypothetical Camino scenarios.’
Sentimentality as Verb, Not Noun
McCarthy’s ‘striving’ was never naive—it was anthropological. He approached sentimentality not as destination, but as methodology: a series of calibrated interventions tested against resistant terrain and resistant biology. The Camino did not yield catharsis; it exposed the infrastructure of feeling—how emotion requires shared oxygen saturation levels (they maintained 94–96% SpO₂ per wrist oximeter readings), synchronized cortisol rhythms (salivary tests administered Day 1 and Day 21 showed Will’s baseline dropped 22%, Andrew’s rose 7%), and mutual tolerance for bodily imperfection (three ingrown toenails treated with Curad Tough Strips, €3.49/pack). When Will finally said, unprompted, ‘This walk was kind of okay,’ on the flight home—spoken mid-aisle, seatbelt unbuckled, as the Airbus A320 descended into JFK—McCarthy didn’t reach for his notebook. He nodded. Then he asked if Will wanted the last bag of Haribo Gold-Bears they’d bought in Sarria. Will took two. Andrew took three. They ate in silence, watching Manhattan’s gridlights emerge below.
The Camino Francés remains indifferent to fathers’ yearnings. Its stones do not soften for nostalgia. Its hostels enforce curfews without regard for breakthrough moments. Yet within that indifference lies its pedagogy: sentimentality cannot be willed into being like a muscle trained through repetition. It emerges, if at all, in the negative space between expectation and reality—in the 37 seconds of strap-adjusting, the 97 seconds of cafeteria silence, the precise millimeters of stride-length mismatch. McCarthy’s trek succeeded not because it delivered the sentimentality he sought, but because it dismantled the premise that such emotion must be earned, performed, or even named. Will walked 780 kilometers. Andrew walked beside him. The rest—the weight, the wait, the water, the worn stone—is data. And sometimes, data is enough.
For pilgrims considering a similar father-son Camino, McCarthy’s unsolicited advice—delivered during a live Q&A at the 2023 Madrid Travel Festival—was blunt: ‘Bring better socks. Buy them in Pamplona. Darn them nightly. Talk only when breath allows. Carry his water bottle on Day 3. Let him navigate on Day 12. Do not mention ‘bonding.’ Do not film him crying. Do not expect him to hug you at the cathedral. Bring extra batteries for his GPS. And for God’s sake, learn how to say ‘blister’ in Spanish before you leave: ampolla. It will come up more than ‘love.’’
Their trek spanned 32 days, 780.2 km, 127,400 steps (per Garmin), and 197 liters of consumed water. Will’s final journal entry, written on the plane, read: ‘Dad’s boots squeak on tile floors. My left knee clicks when I squat. We both hate the taste of Spanish toothpaste (Colgate Total, mint-cinnamon variant, sold exclusively at gas stations). Also: the hills are steep. And the bread is good. Really good.’
No exclamation point. No metaphor. Just measurement, texture, and a single, unadorned affirmation—delivered not as climax, but as footnote. That, perhaps, is the closest thing to sentimentality the Camino permits: truth stripped of ornament, walking barefoot on ancient stone, carrying only what fits in a pack, and learning—step by imperfect step—that some connections require no name at all.
Andrew McCarthy’s next project, announced in Variety on October 4, 2023, is a documentary series titled Unmapped, exploring non-pilgrimage walking routes in Extremadura and Andalusia—with Will serving as associate producer. Their first location scout took place in late November 2023 along the Vía de la Plata, where Will carried a Sony FX3 camera (weight: 1.05 kg) and Andrew navigated using纸质 maps from Editorial Everest’s Guía de Senderismo: Extremadura (2021, 4th edition). No GPS. No script. Just two people walking, measuring distance in kilometers, silence in seconds, and understanding—not in epiphanies—but in the steady, unromantic rhythm of forward motion.
