Luz de Lucia - Shiny Penguin

Some people enter your life as guides on the trail, and you realize later they were also guiding you toward something bigger. Lucía was that kind of person.

I first met Lucía in 2012, when I only knew her as Judy. Born on the East Coast and later transplanted to the mountains of Colorado, she worked as a chef for Aspen’s wealthy travelers. But she had a calling of sorts, and it began with her first camino in Spain. I may be fuzzy on the exact order of events, but it was there she fell in love — with the Camino, with Spain, and with her future husband, JC. She worked in Colorado to save enough to return for more hikes. At first she brought friends, then acquaintances, and before long she was running her own company, Spanish Steps.

Judy was a free spirit with a huge appetite for the trail, unafraid of anything. She’s the one who showed me the way — through meticulously curated walks across villages and hamlets, staying in the most charming of places. She’s the one who helped me imagine a life in Europe, and who encouraged me through the process of getting here.

It doesn’t make sense that she is gone at just 67. She endured a difficult surgery with a painful recovery. She didn’t stop. The chemo, she admitted, wrecked her in a sad way. But she still didn’t stop. Her spirit was larger than the world. For people like her, I believe the road never truly ends. It only curves out of our sight.

Camino de Santiago

Our first Camino was in 2012, a 14-day trip that even included a side visit to the Picos de Europa. It was a special journey — three generations of Lennans walking together.

I have to be honest: when Tom first told me about the idea of walking for two weeks with his dad, my reaction was, “That sounds awful.” But it turned out to be the best trip of my life.

We had Mario and Jorge as our guides, which was perfect for our then 14- and 12-year-old sons. On that trip we learned to move through life more slowly, more deliberately, and with more wonder. It was there we tried padrón peppers for the first time — and there we first met Judy, who popped over to meet our group in one of the towns.

Assisi

With our sons grown, we were looking to go on another trek. When I couldn’t decide which trek to choose, Judy asked me, “Do you want to end in a small city or a big city?” She suggested the small one — and of course, she was right.

In October 2018, we spent seven days trekking through the Umbria region of Italy, en route to Assisi. The trail carried us among olive groves and across hilly towns, each with its own quiet rhythm. That journey was special not only for the landscapes, but because Judy was hiking alongside us. It was also the trip where I met my dear friend Elena — another lasting gift that came from walking with Judy.

Cathar

In September 2019, we spent eight days trekking through rural southern France. The route followed the GR36, carrying us over rolling hills, steep climbs, and past the ruins of castles.

Along the way we passed through tiny towns and hamlets — Montlaur, Ribaute, Lagrasse, Saint-Pierre-de-Champs, Villerouge-Termenès, Palairac, Maisons, Cucugnan, Rennes-le-Château, Montségur, and Bélesta. We visited abbeys and fortresses, including the dramatic twin castles of Quéribus and Peyrepertuse.

The journey ended in the town of Foix, where we said goodbye to Elena and Judy at the train station — the kind of farewell that lingers long after the backpacks are set down.

Siena to Roma

In the autumn of 2023, we spent fifteen days walking the Via Francigena from Siena to Rome. After the stillness of the pandemic, it felt good to be back on the trail again. Virginio and Annalisa guided us across open meadows and along the strade bianche, through towns that seemed pulled straight from another century: Siena, Colle Malamerenda, Ponte d’Arbia, Torrenieri, San Quirico, Castiglione d’Orcia, Proceno, Acquapendente, Bolsena, Orvieto, Montefiascone, Viterbo, Ronciglione, Vetralla, Sutri, Monterosi, Campagnano, Isola Farnese — and at last, Rome.

This trip was also different because most of Tom’s siblings, along with nieces and nephews, joined us. Together it became a pilgrimage for his father, who had walked these treks with us before, and whose absence was deeply felt. Elena joined us for the second half, another reminder of how friendships form and deepen on these roads.

Judy couldn’t be there — she was in the midst of surgery at the time. Yet her presence was everywhere: in the rhythm of the walk, in the way we remembered to look up and around with wonder, and in the courage to keep moving forward.

Caminito del Rey

The last time I saw Judy was December 2024. She and JC were planning to spend the holidays in Seville, and she invited us to visit. She mentioned a little hike, and I remember sitting in the London airport booking a hotel and tickets for it. I wasn’t trained up for hiking, and since Judy was in the middle of treatment, I assumed it wouldn’t be too demanding.

Later, I looked up Caminito del Rey and had a minor freak out. Even though Judy’s body was trying to slow down, she wasn’t playing. So the Caminito del Rey it was.

That quick, impromptu trip became a gift — a final walk together with Judy and JC. Like every trip we’d taken with Spanish Steps, it was beyond my expectations and beyond what I could have dreamed up.

Judy has altered the course of our lives. She was a free spirit who made trekking accessible and deeply meaningful. She gave us the courage to explore — and to imagine a new life in Europe.

A Surplus of Plans

We always seemed to stay in contact. During Covid, Judy sewed masks and mailed them to us. When I tried a little Amazon Associates side hustle, she suggested content and promoted my site through her business.

Once we started living in Portugal, she spoke of visiting and checking out the hiking here. The last time I talked to her was on September 2nd, just a month before her passing. She was coming back from the U.S., spending a couple of days in Porto before heading to Spain. The last text I sent her was on September 24 — this picture I’d taken of her in Seville.

There were always more plans — a surplus of plans to drive us forward, to give us hope, to keep us anticipating and looking ahead.

More Portugal

Read more about daily life, the embarrassing moments, and the process for having a long stay in Portugal. If you are more of a picture person, follow me on Instagram.