Moved by faith, Bob Brunson walked 800 miles to visit 21 California missions.

When Bob Brunson tells a story, he has a habit of interrupting himself to say “long story short,” and that only means a longer detour. This story is about Brunson, and a very long walk. But in his telling, it is about another time and place, and the main character is Giovanni di Pietro di Bernardone, born in Italy circa 1181, and canonized as Saint Francis in 1228. Long story short (for real), Francis’ search for meaning took him to a ruined chapel in San Damiano, where he reportedly heard a command from Jesus to repair the church.

Francis did, and devoted himself to a life of poverty. He went on to establish what is still known today as the Franciscan order. First – and second-order Franciscans are priests, monks and nuns; third-order secular Franciscans include people like Brunson and his wife, Teresa Brunson, who live in a contemporary societal setting but commit to Francis’ principles.

But enough about theology – it’s the backstory for an extraordinary undertaking. Brunson dreamed of walking the famed 500-mile Camino de Santiago in Spain, but had neither the time or the money. “So I thought, I’ll just walk all 21 California missions as a pilgrimage,” he says. (Father Junipero Serra was a first-order Franciscan.)

In increments, sometimes a weekend or a week at a time, Brunson would walk a stretch, starting in the south at Mission San Diego de Alcalá, and eventually ending, eight years later, at Mission San Francisco Solano in Sonoma.

He requested permission from late Bishop Richard Garcia to wear a traditional habit, or robe. (“The one I got was polyester and wool, which was terrible because I walked mostly in summer – they do have cotton ones,” Brunson says.) He carried just a small burlap bag with essentials like a toothbrush and clean underwear. And he started walking, and walking.

“I wanted to do it as a mendicant, on faith,” Brunson says. “I’m not a very good Christian, by the way, or a very good mendicant.” (“Very good” is a matter of interpretation; Brunson rallied a group of neighbors in 2022 to sponsor a family of Afghan refugees. In his job he supports healing, as the clinical director of Sun Street Centers; his wife is clinical director for Interim, Inc.)

In some places, like at Mission San Antonio de Padua in South Monterey County, he stayed in a mission. He might call a friend of a friend and sleep on the couch. And sometimes, he’d bust out the credit card and stay at a hotel. (This is partly what he means by “not a good Christian.”)

For a one-week stretch, Brunson parked his car in LA, then returned to find it had been towed. When he spoke to police, then to the towing company – wearing his robe, naturally – they waived all fees. “Junipero Serra is still doing miracles on the Camino,” Brunson says.

After completing the 800 miles, Brunson wasn’t satiated – he did go on to spend three weeks walking the Camino de Santiago, joining with other pilgrims from all over the world. (There, he wore secular walking attire, rather than the habit, but kept his simple sandals.)

Brunson became one of roughly 80 people counted by the California Mission Walkers group, which reports 2,400 members, many of whom have walked just a portion. Brunson now offers his home in Marina to fellow pilgrims, as indicated by a sticker on his front door.

He is pictured in the second edition of the Mission Walkers’ The Hiker’s Guide to California’s 21 Spanish Missions Along El Camino Real. The photo shows Brunson, wearing his habit, at an ATM machine getting cash – a collision of a historic pilgrimage with modern life.

And a modern life in all its glory is what animates Brunson’s faith.

“Most people think it’s supposed to be good for after you die,” he says. “Religion is supposed to teach you how to live now – life is for the living. Most people walk around like zombies, and they get distracted by their wants and fears, and they never get to live life.”

He’s living it up, on his own two feet.