How Watercolor Changed the Way I Walk the Camino

When I first began walking the Camino, I thought I understood what the journey was about.

Walking. Distance. Silence. Endurance.

Like many pilgrims, I arrived with a backpack, a route, and an expectation that the road itself would change me.

But I did not expect watercolor to become part of that transformation.

At first, I carried a small sketchbook almost casually. A few colors. One brush. Nothing serious.

I thought I might make occasional sketches during breaks.

Instead, watercolor slowly changed the way I experienced the Camino itself.

Decorations at the camino albergue, Pussos, Portugal

Walking Became Slower

Before painting, I moved through landscapes the way most travelers do.

I noticed things quickly. I photographed them mentally. Then I continued walking.

But watercolor interrupted that rhythm.

To paint even a small sketch requires stopping. Not simply standing still, but remaining long enough for observation to deepen.

The shape of a hill changes when you sit with it. The color of a road changes as clouds move. A tree becomes less an object and more a structure of light, shadow, and time.

I began walking differently because I began looking differently.

Distance mattered less. Attention mattered more.

Places Stayed in My Memory Longer

One of the strange things about travel is how quickly experiences disappear.

You may walk through extraordinary places and forget them only weeks later. Photographs accumulate, but memory flattens.

Painting changed this completely.

When I painted a place, it remained in my memory with unusual clarity.

Not because the painting was perfect, but because painting forced me into a different relationship with the environment.

I had to notice:

• the temperature of light
• the direction of shadow
• the movement of wind
• the silence between sounds

Watercolor slowed perception enough for memory to settle more deeply.

Even now, I can remember specific moments on the Camino through the colors I mixed that day.

albergue at Areias, Portugal

I Stopped Chasing “Perfect” Views

Before watercolor, I often searched for dramatic scenery.

The perfect viewpoint. The most beautiful landscape. The image worth capturing.

But watercolor quietly changed this habit.

Some of my favorite sketches came from places that seemed ordinary at first:

• a roadside café
• a worn chair outside a hostel
• a lemon tree beside a dusty road
• morning light on a quiet wall

Painting taught me that atmosphere matters more than spectacle.

A place does not need to be visually grand to feel alive.

In fact, the quieter moments often stayed with me the longest.

Carrying Less Became Important

The Camino changes your relationship with weight.

At the beginning, many pilgrims carry too much. Extra clothing. Extra equipment. Extra “just in case” items.

Artists do the same.

I began with too many brushes, too many paints, too many materials.

But long-distance walking simplifies everything.

Eventually, my watercolor practice became smaller:

• one sketchbook
• one brush
• a compact palette
• a few carefully chosen colors

And strangely, the paintings improved.

Less equipment created more attention.

Instead of thinking about tools, I began responding directly to the world in front of me.

Watercolor Changed My Relationship With Time

The Camino operates on walking time, not digital time.

Hours stretch differently on the road.

Watercolor belongs naturally to this slower rhythm.

Unlike fast photography, watercolor cannot be rushed. Water must settle. Paper must dry. Pigment moves at its own pace.

This created a new awareness of time itself.

I stopped trying to “capture” places quickly.

Instead, I began entering into temporary relationships with them.

Some paintings took only ten minutes. Others took an hour.

But all of them required presence.

People Approached Me Differently

Something unexpected happened when I started painting on the Camino:

People began talking to me differently.

A camera creates distance. A watercolor sketchbook creates curiosity.

Pilgrims would stop and watch quietly. Sometimes they asked questions. Sometimes they simply stood nearby in silence.

Painting slowed social interaction in the same way it slowed walking.

It created pauses.

And within those pauses, conversations became more genuine.

Watercolor changed not only how I saw the Camino, but how I met people within it.

Maurice K. watercolor portrait by Ouchul Hwang

Imperfection Became Part of the Work

Travel watercolor is never completely controlled.

Wind moves pages. Water spills. Paper bends. Sketches become stained inside backpacks.

At first, I resisted these imperfections.

But eventually, I realized something important:

The physical condition of the sketchbook was part of the journey itself.

Dust, rain marks, accidental fingerprints—these traces belonged to the experience.

The sketchbook became less like a polished art object and more like a lived document.

And this changed how I thought about painting.

Painting Became a Form of Listening

Before the Camino, I often approached painting as production.

Making images. Finishing work. Improving technique.

But watercolor on the road felt different.

It became less about creating and more about listening.

Listening to:

• light
• weather
• silence
• fatigue
• the pace of walking

Watercolor taught me that observation is not passive.

It is an active form of attention.

And the Camino, perhaps more than anything else, creates space for that attention to emerge.

Final Thoughts

I originally thought watercolor was something I carried onto the Camino.

Now I think the opposite may be true.

The Camino changed the way I understand watercolor.

It taught me:

• to slow down
• to carry less
• to observe more carefully
• to value atmosphere over perfection
• to let moments remain unfinished

Most importantly, it changed the way I walk.

Not toward destinations, but toward attention itself.

And watercolor, with all its unpredictability and fragility, became part of that way of seeing.

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Many of these sketches and reflections eventually became part of my watercolor book:

Buen Camino — a watercolor journey

A collection of watercolor paintings inspired by walking the Camino de Santiago.

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Follow my Camino watercolor journey

📷 @ouchul_hwang

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