By Kerri Westenberg

On the final full day of the In the Steps of St. Francis tour, our group gathered in a private room around a large table at the Michelin-star restaurant Da Gorini. We were there to celebrate our shared achievement—hiking 75 miles over 5 days—with an eight-course meal. We met the charming chef. The food was astoundingly clever and delicious. But what stays with me most is the laughter, easy conversation, and the realization that we had become our own warmhearted community.

“I couldn’t have made this hike without you,” one of us said.

“You all inspired me,” added another.

“In the end, hiking became a communal effort,” someone else observed.

Another offered up a great idea for a reunion in the States one year off.

My husband and I had never taken a group trip with people we didn’t already know. We overcame our unease by assured ourselves that anyone who signs up for such a trip — strenuous hikes to little Italian villages — must be kindred spirits. How right we were.

*The tranquility of the path created moments of beauty and connection*.

Walking through the heart of Italy for nearly eight hours a day—with no headphones, no pings from phones—led to meaningful conversations, even amid stretches of solitude to quietly relish the natural world around us. One moment, your pace aligns with one hiker; later you fall into step with someone else.

We talked about books, travel and family. One traveler shared how he built his art collection, starting with a painting he and his wife both adored but could only afford through an installment plan early in their marriage. Another recounted the story of meeting her sweetheart, and his loving concern for her health on this trip. Yet another hiker sent so many pictures of stunning landscapes and smiling faces to his girlfriend back home that we joked he’d better return with excellent gifts.

The rigor of the hikes bonded us, too. Facing another steep climb, someone might crack a joke, offer words of encouragement or just raise a knowing eyebrow. We slowed down when someone was struggling, carried on conversations to distract from aches and stopped to admire some view just when another step forward seemed too much. We knew we were tackling challenges together.

*Friendships form through the challenges and triumphs of the trail.*

After each day’s hike, we’d retreat to our hotel rooms to rest and freshen up, then regroup for a communal dinner. We naturally rotated seats, sharing the evening with different companions as we reflected on the day’s beauties and challenges and looked ahead to the next.

We gradually began to move as a team. When someone caught a cold, others offered up medicine. When aching legs set in, a fellow traveler shared her arnica oil, an ointment for soothing sore muscles.

That final shared meal, after we’d shed our hiking gear, was a fitting culmination. We weren’t just celebrating the distance we’d walked—we were celebrating the distance we’d traveled together, from strangers to friends.