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Community Member Selected for Accessible Camino Pilgrimage

Updated: 1 hour ago

Angela and Sophia are smiling and posing together at a friend's wedding. Angela is sitting in her mobility scooter and Sophia is leaning on Angela’s scooter with her arm around Angela. Angela is wearing a white and blue floral dress and Sophia is wearing a green floral dress. Angela has light brown hair that is softly curled and Sophia has dark brown hair pulled into an updo and is wearing glasses.

It Started With an Idea


I’m Angela, and I live with SELENON-Related Myopathy. As a member of the CMD community, I have had the privilege of being connected to others living with similar neuromuscular diseases. Being part of this community has continually reminded me that while CMD can feel isolating at times, we are never truly alone.

In 2017, I attended an MDA-sponsored premiere of I’ll Push You, a documentary that follows two best friends, Justin and Patrick. Justin has a neuromuscular disease and uses a wheelchair, his best friend Justin is able-bodied, and they embark on the Camino de Santiago together. For those unfamiliar, the Camino is an ancient pilgrimage route that dates back over a thousand years. Traditionally traveled by foot, it consists of a network of routes across Europe that all lead to Santiago de Compostela in northwestern Spain, where the remains of Saint James are believed to be buried.

For centuries, pilgrims have walked the Camino for faith, healing, gratitude, grief, and clarity. Today, people from all over the world, religious and non-religious alike, continue the tradition. The Camino has become known as a once-in-a-lifetime journey among hikers that invites adventure, reflection, vulnerability, trust, and pushing beyond perceived limits.

Those themes felt especially familiar to me. For someone with a disability, trust and vulnerability are part of daily life. Whether you’re attempting a hike across the world or simply navigating day-to-day activities, living with a neuromuscular disease requires constant adaptation, creativity, and courage.

After watching Justin and Patrick’s story, I knew immediately that I wanted to complete the Camino myself and my rare muscle disease was not going to stop me. I also knew that doing so would require something I had long struggled with: allowing myself to receive help from others.

Angela and Sophia are on the accessible hiking trail along the Oregon coast. They are looking out at a lighthouse and the ocean, with pine trees ahead of them on the trail, with their backs to the camera. Sophia is walking and Angela is using her mobility scooter. They are both wearing short sleeved shirts and baseball caps.

Learning to Accept Help

For years, vulnerability was incredibly difficult for me. As a young woman with an ultra-rare form of CMD, independence felt essential to my identity. There were many things I could not do on my own, and because of that, I clung tightly to every ounce of independence I had. Accepting help felt like weakness, or worse, like burdening others.


Over time, however, I learned that in order to experience beautiful places and meaningful adventures that are not always perfectly accessible, I had to let others carry me (sometimes quite literally, like being carried up and down stairs or when my legs became too fatigued to walk). I had to allow people to be physically and emotionally close to me. In doing so, I discovered something profound: receiving help is not a failure of independence, but an invitation into authentic and sacrificial love.


Angela and Sophia are smiling and posing for a photo along the boardwalk in Edmonds, WA. The sunset and Puget Sound is behind them. Angela, on the left, is wearing a grey hoodie & navy Gonzaga baseball cap. Sophia is on the right, and wearing a light blue shirt, tan baseball cap, glasses, and her hair is up in a ponytail.

Adventure is Calling


Learning to let others help me has taken courage, humility, and vulnerability. But the beauty of vulnerability is this: no one is meant to handle life alone. Every person, regardless of ability, has something essential to offer: authentic relationship, shared humanity, and love.


After applying to the I’ll Push You Accessible Camino program multiple years in a row (they receive hundreds of applications each year), I was finally accepted with my dear friend Sophia as my able-bodied “pusher.” The I’ll Push You program is built on the mutual exchange of giving and receiving help to form deep, authentic relationships. Each participant with a disability is paired with someone, whether a loved one or a fellow pilgrim, to assist them on the trail.


The friendship between Justin and Patrick, which first inspired me years ago, mirrors so many of the relationships I have been blessed with throughout my life, including my friendship with Sophia. Over the years, Sophia and I have learned to carry one another physically, emotionally, and spiritually. By taking on this pilgrimage together, we hope to continue practicing vulnerability, trust, and sacrificial love in a new and meaningful way.


The map shows the Portuguese route of the Camino. The route starts in Lisbon, Portugal and ends in Santiago de Compostela, Spain. In the upper left corner is an image of a yellow shell, which is a common symbol of the Camino.

Preparing for the Journey


There are several routes along the Camino, including the French Way, Portuguese Way, and English Way. Our I’ll Push You group will be completing the Portuguese Way, taking place June 15-23, 2026. It begins in Vigo, and ends in Santiago de Compostela, Spain.


This route follows Spain’s rugged coastline and historic towns before turning inland toward Santiago. Though shorter than some of the other routes, it is still physically demanding, with steep inclines, narrow paths, cobblestones, and long days of travel. The I’ll Push You route covers the final 100 kilometers of the Camino, the minimum distance required to earn the Compostela, or certificate of completion.


Our preparations for the Camino look different, but are equally important. Sophia is physically training not only to walk the 100km, but to also push me and other wheelchair users along the trail. I do not have the muscle capacity to propel myself, so my preparation focuses more on logistics and fundraising, as well as ensuring my body is in the healthiest condition possible. This includes maintaining flexibility, prioritizing hydration and nutrition, and supporting my immune and respiratory health as I am prone to lung infections. I am also working on acquiring an all-terrain wheelchair for the trail as the electrical scooter I typically use will not be sufficient.


For me, this pilgrimage is not about “overcoming disability” or proving capability. It is about interdependence and what becomes possible when access, adaptation, and community come together.


As I prepare to embark on this journey, I am filled with gratitude for organizations like Cure CMD and I’ll Push You, for friendships that make vulnerability safe, and for a community that believes disabled bodies belong everywhere, including on ancient hiking trails in Europe.


Learn more about my pilgrimage and how you can support our fundraising efforts: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-us-experience-the-accessible-camino-de-santiago


Stay tuned for Part 2 of my journey and a recap of my travels; Buen Camino!

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