Dana Hammele

The Six Minute Shower

Dana Hammele — Mon, 24 Aug 2026 16:13:38 GMT

# What the Camino Strips Away

There's a moment on every Camino when your body stops negotiating with you and just tells you the truth. Mine came on day one, on the ascent out of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port toward Orisson. I don't usually cuss. But somewhere on that climb, I found myself wondering how in the world I was going to survive thirty more days of this.

This wasn't my first Camino. In 2022, I walked the Camino Portugués with an incredible company that put us up in castle hotels, fed us well, and kept our suitcases waiting for us at the next stop. It was luxury, and honestly, it was essential for me to even consider trying a Camino at all that first time. But it was also on that Portuguese route where I heard God speak to me for the first time. And I wanted to hear Him again. So when Eddie asked, I said yes to the Camino Francés.

## "If You Survive the First Few Days..."

Daniel, who checked us in and stamped our first passports in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, told us the Camino Francés has been losing pilgrims to the Portuguese route in recent years. It's an easier walk, with far less climbing. "If you can survive the first few days of the Camino Francés," he told Ed, "pffft, you will make it to Santiago no problem."

When Ed told him our plan — stop in Orisson, then break the push to Roncesvalles into two days — Daniel said that was smart. It was. Because that first climb alone was enough to make me question everything. Each time I started to spiral, Eddie would say something to keep me moving, adjusting the plan as we went. By the time we reached Orisson, I was never so grateful in my life that this was our first stop and I didn't have to take another step.

## Not the Ritz — Something Better

That night we stayed in an albergue that's been welcoming pilgrims for over twenty-three years, the kind of place where people in the know start trying to book a bed the moment the new year begins. Only two private rooms exist there. Everyone else — us included — sleeps in shared bunk rooms, men and women together, with a token for a strictly timed six-minute shower and a shared bathroom down the hall.

Ed kept glancing at me all evening, wondering if his bride of thirty-three years was going to lose it over sharing a bathroom and a six-minute shower clock. The owners explained that water is limited up there, drawn from a source that simply can't support long showers for a house full of pilgrims. Fair enough.

Here's the thing, though — I was grateful. Genuinely, surprisingly grateful. Grateful for that six-minute shower. Grateful for a washing machine and dryer to clean the one set of clothes I'd sweated through. Grateful for my own bed, even sharing a bathroom with strangers. That albergue turned out to be an oasis, with a deck view that made the whole climb worth it, and a pilgrim dinner that night with more wine than we probably needed and exactly as much laughter as we did.

It wasn't the Ritz. It didn't need to be. It had everything we actually needed — and somewhere in that six-minute shower, I started wondering whether an overweight woman in her sixties, who had gotten a little too comfortable with everything her life provided, could actually strip it all down and hear God again the way she did in Portugal.

## The Reward of a Stage Completed

There's nothing quite like walking into a new town at the end of a stage — legs done, feet sore, sun low — and knowing you did it yourself. Not "someone got you there." You walked there, step by step, with nothing but your own will and God's grace carrying you the last mile.

That feeling doesn't fade with repetition. It builds. Every stage becomes its own small victory, proof you're capable of more than you believed when you laced up your boots that morning. Add those stages together, day after day, all the way to Santiago, and you understand something pilgrims have always known: the walking itself is the gift, not just the getting there.

## The Gift of the Quiet

The deepest gift of the Camino, though, might be the quiet. Hour after hour on the trail, there's no phone buzzing, no meeting to prep for — just footsteps, wind through the fields, and your own thoughts finally given room to breathe.

That kind of silence is rare in ordinary life, and it turns out to be exactly the space prayer needs. Somewhere between one village and the next, walking becomes listening. You find yourself talking to God without trying to — and if you stay quiet long enough, you actually hear something back. Not always words. Sometimes just a peace that wasn't there at the start of the day. That's what I was chasing when I said yes to this Camino. And on that first brutal, beautiful day, I found it again.

## We All Walk Our Own Camino

We aren’t just walking five hundred miles to prove anything. We walk to be emptied out a little — of comfort, of noise, of everything we convince ourselves we can't live without — so that what's left could be filled with something better. A six-minute shower and gratitude for every second of it. Pride in a day's honest, hard-won miles. And a quiet, growing certainty that God has been walking every step right alongside us.

We all walk our own Camino.

*Buen Camino.*

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#CaminoFrances #Faithbasedtraveler

Why We’re Walking the Camino at age 60

Dana Hammele — Tue, 11 Aug 2026 17:12:09 GMT

Friends keep asking the same question: “Why would you want to do that?”
They say it with genuine curiosity, sometimes mixed with a little concern. At our age, most people are thinking about shorter trips, nicer hotels, and fewer stairs. We’re about to put on backpacks and start walking roughly 500 miles from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port in France all the way to Santiago de Compostela. One step after another, for about a month. So why?

The honest answer is that we still can. And we know that window won’t stay open forever.

We just turned 60. Our bodies are still willing, our schedules are finally flexible enough, and the desire is still strong. That combination doesn’t last. Five or ten years from now the same walk might be possible, or it might not. We decided we didn’t want to find out the hard way that we had waited too long.

There’s also something deeper at work. Most of life, if you’re fortunate, gradually gets more comfortable. The edges get softer. The days become more predictable. That’s not a complaint—comfort has its place. But comfort alone doesn’t change you. Challenge does. And at this stage of life we still want to be changed. John F. Kennedy once said, while announcing the decision to go to the moon, that we choose to do these things “not because they are easy, but because they are hard.” The Camino is no moon landing, of course. But the principle holds. We are choosing this walk precisely because it will ask something of us. It will ask for early mornings, tired feet, shared bathrooms, and the daily decision to keep going when the easy choice would be to stop. We want that kind of asking.

As Catholics, we also walk as pilgrims in a tradition that stretches back more than a thousand years. Generations of believers have taken this same road toward the tomb of St. James, seeking not only the physical destination but a deeper closeness to God. We hope for the same. We want the long days of walking, the quiet of the path, the rhythm of prayer, and the simplicity of carrying only what we need to open us more fully to Him. The Camino has a way of stripping life down to essentials. In that stripped-down space, we hope to listen better, to trust more, and to grow closer to the God who has walked with His people through every age.

We’re not trying to prove anything to anyone. We’re not chasing a midlife crisis or collecting a badge or medal. This is not a physical fitness contest to us. We simply want a long stretch of simple days. Days reduced to walking, eating, resting, praying, and talking. No screens demanding attention. No calendar filled with obligations. Just the road, the weather, each other, and the steady rhythm of putting one foot in front of the other.

There is also the quiet pleasure of doing something hard on purpose with the person you’ve chosen to walk through life with. Marriage has its own long-distance quality. The Camino feels like a concentrated version of that—side by side, carrying what we need, adjusting to each other’s pace, solving small problems together, and discovering what remains when the usual distractions fall away. We hope that shared effort will draw us closer not only to each other, but to God.

People sometimes assume pilgrimage has to look a certain way. For us it is both ordinary and sacred. We are open to whatever the walk wants to give us: clearer thinking, unexpected conversations, a deeper appreciation for the ordinary, the companionship of fellow pilgrims, and, we pray, a renewed sense of God’s presence. The Camino has a long history of meeting people where they are. We trust it will do the same for us. We know it won’t be glamorous. There will be blisters, sore muscles, rainy days, and moments when the idea of a soft bed and a car sounds perfect. That’s part of the point. Easy things don’t teach you much about what you’re capable of—or about dependence on grace. Hard things, chosen freely and taken one day at a time, usually do.

So when friends ask why, we have a few short answers ready…
Because we can.
Because we won’t always be able to.
Because sitting on the couch is the other option, and we’ve already tried that.
Because we still want to find out what happens when we deliberately choose something difficult.
And because, like countless pilgrims before us, we hope the road will lead us closer to God.

In the end, the simplest version is the truest one. We are walking the Camino now because the road is open, our legs still work, the desire is still alive, and our faith still calls us forward. That feels like reason enough.

We leave soon. One step at a time.

September 2022, Camino Portuguese (approx 120miles) — Roman bridges & forests

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The Faithbasedtraveler will be teaming up in 2027 to walk the Camino on a different shorter route. If you are interested in joining us, please email me @faithbasedtraveler@gmail.com! And if you like my substack posts, please subscribe.

Music: A Prayer That Begins Before Dawn

Dana Hammele — Sun, 02 Aug 2026 01:47:24 GMT

Long before church bells ring, before the first cup of coffee is poured, and before most of us open our eyes, creation has already begun its morning prayer.

Step outside at sunrise and listen.

The birds are singing.

To many, it is simply nature awakening. But to a Christian, those melodies can be heard as something much deeper—a chorus of praise offered to the Creator. Jesus Himself pointed to the birds as examples of God’s providence (Matthew 6:26). They do not worry about tomorrow, yet each morning they faithfully greet the dawn with joyful song. They remind us that praise is woven into creation itself.

Perhaps that is why music has always occupied such a sacred place in the life of God’s people.

When Music Becomes Prayer

Prayer is often thought of as words spoken quietly in church or whispered before bed. Yet throughout Scripture, some of the most powerful prayers were sung.

The Book of Psalms is essentially Israel’s hymnbook. King David poured out his heart to God not only in spoken prayer but in poetry meant to be accompanied by music. Joy, sorrow, repentance, thanksgiving, fear, hope—every human emotion found its way into song.

Even Jesus sang.

After the Last Supper, before walking into the agony of Gethsemane and ultimately to the Cross, the Gospels tell us that Jesus and His disciples sang a hymn (Matthew 26:30).

Music has a remarkable ability to express what words alone often cannot. It reaches the heart before it reaches the intellect. It comforts the grieving, strengthens the weary, inspires the faithful, and lifts the soul toward heaven.

For centuries, Gregorian chant, sacred polyphony, hymns, and contemporary worship music have helped believers enter more deeply into prayer. When we sing, we engage our minds, our voices, our emotions, and even our bodies in worship.

As St. Augustine is often quoted as saying, “He who sings prays twice.” Whether or not those exact words came from him, the sentiment beautifully captures the power of sacred music.

Echoes of Faith Beyond Church Walls

Christian themes are not confined to hymns or worship albums. Many well-known artists have woven biblical imagery and spiritual longing into popular music.

Few musicians did this more openly than Prince.

Prince’s catalog frequently reflected his deep spiritual beliefs. Songs such as “The Cross” speak directly about Christ’s sacrifice, while “I Would Die For You” reminds listeners that life is more than what we see and encourages perseverance in light of eternity. Throughout his career, Prince wrestled publicly through music with questions of faith, redemption, temptation, and God’s presence.

Another fascinating example comes from Led Zeppelin. Although often associated with mythology and mysticism, several of their songs contain unmistakable biblical imagery. “Stairway to Heaven” explores humanity’s search for something eternal beyond earthly possessions. “Battle of Evermore” includes references that evoke imagery from the Book of Revelation and the cosmic struggle between good and evil.

These artists remind us that even in secular music, the human heart continues searching for transcendence. As St. Augustine famously wrote, “Our hearts are restless until they rest in You.”

The Hidden Music of Our Lady of Guadalupe

Perhaps one of the most intriguing intersections of faith and music is found in the miraculous image of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

For centuries, scientists, musicians, theologians, and historians have studied the tilma of the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Among the many fascinating claims surrounding the image is one that has captivated musicians.

Researchers have observed that the decorative floral patterns on Mary’s rose-colored tunic can be interpreted as corresponding to musical notes. When these floral placements are translated onto a musical staff using one proposed mapping system, they produce a simple yet beautiful melody often called the “Guadalupe Hymn.”

Whether this musical interpretation was intentionally embedded or is simply a remarkable coincidence remains a matter of discussion rather than established historical fact. The Catholic Church has never declared that the tilma contains a divinely encoded musical composition. Nevertheless, the idea beautifully illustrates something profoundly Christian: that beauty, art, mathematics, and music all have the capacity to direct our hearts toward God.

Even if the melody itself remains a mystery, the image continues to inspire millions to prayer, conversion, and hope.

Joining Creation’s Song

The Catechism teaches that all creation gives glory to God simply by existing. The stars proclaim His majesty. Oceans reveal His power. Mountains reflect His permanence.

And every morning, birds sing.

Perhaps they remind us of something we too easily forget.

We were created to praise.

Whether through a cathedral choir, a favorite worship song on the radio, a child singing in church, or even a quiet melody humming in our hearts during difficult days, music becomes far more than entertainment. It becomes a conversation with our Creator.

The next time you hear birds welcoming the sunrise, pause for a moment.

Let their chorus remind you that prayer did not begin when you woke up. Creation has been praising God all along.

And perhaps the most beautiful thing we can do is simply add our own voice to the song.

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Petra - one of the seven wonders of the world. A masterpiece carved into rock.

Dana Hammele — Sun, 25 Jan 2026 02:18:50 GMT

Petra is a slow reveal that ends in awe. You walk through a narrow canyon (known as the Siq)… and boom — you are staring at the Treasury — the heart of this Nabataean city carved entirely into rose-red sandstone.

Rami, our Guide, told us that in a typical day, before the war started, that there would be 9,000 people winding their way through the Siq and into areas of Petra we could not see as a group. We were never crowded and there were maybe 1,000 people there when we were. Tourism is way down. (We ran into other Americans on our flight coming to Jordan and Petra. So we are trickling back and the guides have noticed it and are so happy.)

A bit of Petra history — Petra was a trade hub linking Arabia, Egypt, Rome. Charleton Heston filmed Lawrence of Arabia here. (Fun note: I remember my mom reading this book and thinking Charleton was dreamy 🤣)

The scale of Petra is enormous — tombs, temples, streets, altars — it’s hard to describe except you’re so busy staring at everything it is easy to trip—

But here is why Petra matters to Catholics:

Petra isn’t about finding Christianity there. It’s about seeing how desperately the world needed Christ before He came.

The High Place of Sacrifice is an ancient altar where sacrifices were offered before Christ. (Reminded me a bit of the Temple of Apollo.)

We see fulfilled in the Cross: blood, offering, atonement. It is a raw prefiguration of Calvary.

The Treasury is what everyone sees in the movies and I’m here on a camel. It is simply awesome to behold.

What many Catholics see in the Treasury (me included) is pagan imagery mixed with order and symmetry. A world searching for God but not yet finding Him. Incredible beauty and achievement but without redemption.

It reminds us that natural law can take us far — but not all the way. I’m not very good with the Old Testament but I knew enough to stand in front of this Wonder of the World and thank God for Revelation.

Fr Vimal gave an excellent Homily today. He talked about how hard and long it took to create such an architectural masterpiece as Petra — a city carved entirely into rocks. A city created out of such a hard material. Then he told us all we could be considered hard material — rocks. In ending his homily he asked us to pray: “Lord, create me into a Masterpiece for You.”

The Baptism of Christ Sunday...

Dana Hammele — Mon, 12 Jan 2026 18:21:53 GMT

I lectored twice yesterday for the celebration of the Baptism of Christ. I love this celebration. We leave in just a few short days for the Holy Land and am overjoyed to see and walk where Jesus walked, and to see where he was baptized and the Holy Spirit fell upon him. Yesterday, Father Lito told me that when he took off his shoes and went into the water, little fish nibbled at his toes. When I read about the River, it appears to be murky, and there are two ways to see it. I don’t really care which side we see it from, as much as I care to see it and say thank you to Christ for finding me and speaking to me to be baptized only 10 years ago.

I converted to Catholicism 10 years ago at age 50. After years of sending poor Eddie alone to Mass with three small kids/bear cubs, I still had my “issues” with Catholicism. Many of my own friends and family members share “issues” with it today, though they do not understand it, because once one does, and once that Holy Spirit falls upon you, you go wherever you can go and learn as much as you can in order to become a small light for others on their own caminos to grow closer to Christ. It’s never too late to seek truth, and this year, I know a 75-year-old converting to Catholicism.

When I decided to become Catholic, I was told to bring in my Baptismal certificate. I could not find one among all my parent’s items, though I found my brother’s. I came back to church and told Barry that I could not find one, and he labeled me a “catechuman” – which sounds kind of scary, actually. I can say, being baptized at age 50 has a lot of advantages, which I won’t get into here, but I am so glad that I was baptized late in life, and also that my husband, Ed, was my sponsor.

On my mother’s deathbed, in 2019, we were in the ICU, and she was completely knocked out, sleeping. Suddenly, she was sitting upright in her bed, pointed at me, and said, “I never had you baptized.” Then, she immediately fell back into a comatose-type sleep. While she slept, I told her it was ok, I’d taken care of that. Then, I prayed the rosary over her. Later, I held her hand as she died.

Baptismal Sunday is a celebration of the Baptism of Christ (by John the Baptist) when the Holy Spirit descends upon Jesus like a dove. I will always be reminded of this moment each year on Baptismal Sunday, but also of God’s infinite wisdom. I needed to be baptized later in life, and though I did not know it, He did.

A top highlight of 2025

Dana Hammele — Mon, 12 Jan 2026 17:48:27 GMT

One of the highlights of 2025 was beginning the Jubilee year in Rome and meeting the great Cardinal Arinze, age 93. We had a private audience with him and I will never forget him or the great wisdom which he shared with us all. Not a single word spoken was wasted.

For those who do not know who Cardinal Arinze is…he is 93 years young and from Nigeria. Many believed he was quite close to being Pope when he was eligible. (Cardinals are not eligible to vote after age 80 but he is still close to the Vatican and attends all ceremonies and events at St. Peter’s which he can.)

Cardinal Arinze speaks 6 languages fluently and he has seen much bloodshed in his beloved country of Nigeria from a very young age. In Nigeria today there is great bloodshed, and a light has been shined on it for all the world to see. I wonder what he would say if I asked him the same question.

I asked Cardinal Arinze, “As an American, what could I do for your country to help?” His reply was simple and direct: “My country? What can you do for my country? Look at your own! Go home and tell your children to stop raising pets like children — tell them to get married and to have children and raise a family and put their phones away!”

Our country has become divided — and it’s a divisive hatred fueled by algorithms, paid writers, and compromised politicans and corporations. It has developed into a type of suicidal empathy, which takes the focus off of God.

God is light and life, and the family is of God. Today, I pray to the Holy Family. Only light and love, overcomes the darkness of hate. Cardinal Arize knew this. Go home, raise a family, live for the eternal. Charlie Kirk knew it too.