Walking to Santiago with a Horse and a Heart Full of Faith
In the quiet mountain village of Valdemaqueda, nestled in the Sierra de Madrid, lives Miguel Ángel Gil — a blacksmith by trade and a man of deep conviction. Known internationally for his handcrafted knives under the brand Miguel Barbudo, this spring he set out on a very different kind of challenge: walking the nearly 700 kilometers of the Camino de Santiago, accompanied only by his two horses, Frascuelo and Revoltoso.
What began as a journey of pilgrimage quickly became a living testament to the extraordinary solidarity among horse lovers — the kind that appears when you need it most, and often gives far more than you ever expect.
A Rough Start
Miguel’s plan was simple, if ambitious: alternate riding and packing between his two horses, and sleep under the stars every night. “I left with both horses — one Hispano-Arab, small but incredibly strong and lively, and a three-blood gelding, taller and more English in appearance,” he explains. “I’d ride one and use the other for carrying gear, switching them off to give them rest.”
But just four days in, disaster struck. A twisted horseshoe on his Hispano-Arab horse led to an injury. “He stepped on the turned shoe and hurt himself, so I had to send him back home,” says Miguel. From then on, he walked — leading the remaining horse, Revoltoso, and carrying only the essentials.
It was an enormous challenge. “I had to drastically reduce my gear, and everything from that point on was done outdoors — camping, cooking, walking. But I trusted in God and in the road. And every time things got hard, someone from the horse world showed up like an angel.”
Angels in the Storm
One of Miguel’s toughest days came on only the second stage of his journey — a rugged, rain-soaked route from San Bartolomé de Pinares to Ávila. “It was brutal terrain, steep paths along a flooded gorge. At times the horses were chest-deep in water, and I had to walk beside them to reduce their burden,” he recalls. “I was sinking to my knees in mud. When we reached Ávila, the horse lost a shoe. I was exhausted, soaked, and with no place to go.”
That’s when the first of many unexpected blessings arrived. A tourist facility nearby happened to have a riding school, but no farrier. As Miguel waited for his own blacksmith to arrive, the sky opened up. Drenched and desperate, he tried calling a kennel facility he spotted online. The man had no space for horses, and initially turned him away.
“But five minutes later, he called me back,” Miguel says. “He told me to contact someone named Curro. I did — and within minutes, Curro had me at his farm, offering me everything I needed. He’s a legend in Ávila, it turns out. He welcomed my horse, gave me gear, dry clothes, food, and wouldn’t let me sleep in the stables. ‘You’re coming to my house,’ he said.”
Miguel shakes his head in disbelief as he recounts it. “At the lowest moment — soaked, freezing, exhausted, and out of options — this man appeared out of nowhere. It was nothing short of providential.”
“Every time I had a problem, someone helped me — and not just a little. They gave me far more than I needed. There’s something in this world, this community, that goes beyond kindness. It’s solidarity. It’s trust. It’s love.”
Kindness of the horse world
After the loss of Revoltoso, Miguel continued on foot with Frascuelo, a relatively new companion. “I’ve only had him for a year or so, but the way he’s behaved… He walks by my side like a dog. I tie the lead rope to my belt, and that’s all I need.”
The road has not been easy. In Salamanca, the boots Miguel brought turned out to be too small — he had assumed he’d be riding most of the way. After walking over 40 kilometers a day, his feet were in agony. “I could barely walk. I limped to a Decathlon store to buy proper shoes, and found a riding center nearby — La Aldegüela.”
Once again, the generosity of the horse world stepped in. The couple running the stables let his horse stay, and when every hotel and hostel in the city was booked, Miguel asked if he could sleep in one of their empty stalls. “They were spotless. I told them I’d sleep there and pay as if I were a horse,” he laughs. “But again — ‘Of course not!’ they said. They gave me a wooden cabin with hot water. Just like that.”
More Than a Journey
As of our last conversation with Miguel, he still had over 400 kilometers left to reach Santiago. But the path he’s walked so far has already transformed him.
“There’s a deep, quiet generosity among people who live with horses,” he reflects. “Every time I had a problem, someone helped me — and not just a little. They gave me far more than I needed. There’s something in this world, this community, that goes beyond kindness. It’s solidarity. It’s trust. It’s love.”
Miguel’s journey is not just a pilgrimage across Spain — it’s a living portrait of the spirit that connects those who share life with horses. A reminder that on the long road, we rarely walk alone..
