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BULLETIN NO 1 from Figeac March 20th 2003
The lanes of Figeac
Hi Everyone,
So many people have asked me for news of how I'm getting on with my "peregrinacion" on the Camino de Santiago that I'm sending out a mass e-mailing - hope you don't mind.
I've been walking for 10 days non-stop since I started in Le Puy and I'm now in Figeac where I took a day off. Le Puy is high up in the French Massif Central and I've been walking in the high plateaus for most of the time. In the main though it is very easy walking compared to the Appalachian Trail. I've been averaging 25kms (15.5 miles) a day without unduly pushing myself.
The thing that really surprises me is that I've hardly met anyone on the trail. I walked the first 5 days without meeting anyone at all and then I caught up with 2 Norwegian guys and a French woman. Since I stopped a day here in Figeac the Norwegian guys have now gone ahead and the French woman has dropped behind, so it looks as if I might be on my own again. Very strange considering how popular this trail is supposed to be. I started early on purpose to beat the crowds, but it looks like I may have overdone it! I ran into a lot of snow in one section too (between Nasbinals and Aubrac), which was hard work as I kept on breaking through - at one point I wandered off the trail a bit (there were no cairns or posts to mark it) and I was up to my hips in snow and up to my ankles in ice-cold muddy water. I had to use map and compass triangulation to find out where I was and get out of it.
In general though I'm having a wonderful relaxing time. This is superb walking country, the scenery is magnificent, the weather has been glorious (sunshine every day, but not too hot) and of course the food is out of the world - even in the little tiny villages. I don't think the French know how to make mediocre meals!
I've covered about 250kms, which is one-third of the distance in France, and in less than three weeks I should be crossing over the Pyrenees into Spain. Before I came here I spent a month in Granada on a total immersion course trying to learn some Spanish. Of course, I didn't learn as much Spanish as I would've liked, but I was pretty pleased. Granada is a fascinating, magical place and I really enjoyed my time there. It's hard work trying to learn a new language, but so different from my normal life that it felt like a holiday. I lived with a Spanish family and met some very pleasant, interesting people on the course. Spain really got to me and I'm looking forward to getting back there again. I speak such good French compared with my Spanish that I feel quite at home here, but Spain is more of an adventure. I also expect to meet many more walkers there, because most people start at the Spanish border. This is a very nice feeling compared to the AT because I'm literally in no hurry at all - the slower I go the more people I'll meet, and since I gather most people don't start till May, even then I hope not to run into huge crowds.
Well, I must be on my way now - it's another glorious day. And the news is so bad this morning, with all this Iraq stuff, I want to get away from radios and TVs and commune with nature again. I'll try and send another mailing as soon as I find a place with an internet café. There don't seem to be too many in these little French villages that I'm passing through.
Regards to all
Chris ("Frodo" to my AT friends)
BULLETIN NO 2 from Moissac March 27th 2003
The Pont Valentré in Cahors
Hello Everyone,
I'm in Moissac now and taking another (although I say it myself) well-deserved break. I took two days off in Figeac, as I liked the place so much. I've travelled 405 kms in 16 days of walking so I'm still keeping up an average of about 25 kms a day. It's a bit faster than I intended but often I don't have a choice as I'm not carrying any camping equipment and I have to stop where there's a "gîte du passant" or an inn. The next section to Condom means I'll have to walk 33km one day and 35 the next - definitely more than I want to go but again I have to stop in an town where there's somewhere to sleep.
Would you believe the weather is still holding. I haven't had one day of rain since I started. I know it seems crazy, but I'm actually starting to look forward to some rain. Day after day of glorious weather is starting to get monotonous! - and I'm starting to feel a bit sorry for the farmers, who need rain badly. The clods of earth in the ploughed fields are as hard as rocks, and the ground is deeply cracked in places.
Having left the "Massif Central" behind, the land is now more gentle and rolling and reminds me very much of England (without the rain - of course!). France has a very well developed network of walking paths or "Chemins de Grandes Randonnées (GR’s)" as they are called. The GR 65 (which is also called the Chemin de Compostelle), takes us along footpaths, narrow trails through woods, farm tracks, little country lanes, tiny hamlets, villages and occasionally a big town. The country lanes here are mostly asphalted even though there’s almost no traffic. You can make good speed along them, but they're pretty hard on the feet, especially when it's hot. I'm pretty footsore sometimes when I arrive, but amazingly my feet recover completely after a night's sleep. One problem I'm having is with this delicious French food. I'd expected that walking all day would take care of my weight (as it did on the AT), but it doesn't seem to be working! When my pack weighs 20lbs and I'm maybe 15-20lbs overweight, it doesn't seem to make much sense to try and trim ounces from my pack, without doing something about the main problem. So I may have to be a proper "pèlerin" for a while and deny myself the pleasure of a hearty supper every night. It's going to be hard - and I don't think they’ve even heard of Ramen in France!
I've met a few more people on the trail, but still nothing like what I expected. There were four people from Paris out for a four-day walk, but still only one other pèlerin. I think most people start at the Spanish border so I'll probably run into plenty then - maybe too many! I like the camaraderie of the trail but not so much if it means all the gîtes are full before I get there. I had a shock one night when I arrived after walking about 25km to find the whole gîte was reserved for a group. There was nothing else in the town so I had to walk another 8 km to find something, I was pretty beat when I got there but it was a really nice place so it was worth it.
Regards to all - I'll be in touch again later.
Chris (aka Frodo)
BULLETIN NO 3 from Aire sur l'Adour 2nd April 2003
Hi Everyone,
I'm still going strong, and have now reached Aire sur l'Adour, 580km done and 933km left to go. I'm still keeping up a very good pace and really enjoying myself. I'm finding the walking's getting easier and easier now as I'm getting hardened to it. Still haven't met many other walkers though. Met two French guys a while back, but haven't seen them for a day or so - I think I got ahead of them when I had a burst of energy a couple of days ago. I'm hoping I'll meet some more people when I cross over into Spain in about a week's time - most people start at the Spanish border so there should be more people even if it is early in the season. Had my first day of rain today, not bad after about 3 weeks of walking! It was steady rain but my poncho kept me warm and dry, so no problem. Actually the problem with the rain is not the rain itself, but it turns all the ground into thick claggy mud. It is all clay soil here and every time you step in the mud, you have great clods of earth hanging on to your boots, and they get bigger and bigger with each step until they fall off under their own weight. I'm in the plains of Gascony at the moment, open rolling country with many vineyards. From where I am now I ought to be able to see the Pyrenees, but visibility was too low today - maybe tomorrow, if the weather clears.
I'd better sign off now. This computer's free, but they only give me half an hour. I hope they'll be more internet cafes when I get to Spain - they don't seem to be very well up on the internet in this part of France.
All the best,
Chris (aka Frodo)
BULLETIN NO 4 from PAMPLONA 12th April 2003
A lot has happened since my last short bulletin from Aire sur l'Adour. I´m now in Pamplona, Spain - that famous old city well known for the annual "running of the bulls" - the only time I know of when the bulls get their revenge! I've now walked 800kms, with 711km left to go to Santiago.
I had a bit of a problem on leaving Aire sur l'Adour. I'd picked up my “bounce box” (the box that I’m “bouncing” from PO to PO so I don’t have to carry all those guide books, maps, dictionaries, extra clothes etc) from the PO the afternoon before and when they told me they'd be open at 9:30 in the morning, I decided to take the box back to the hotel and sort through all the things in it properly. When I took it back to the PO the next morning to send it on to Spain, I found they were closed for a strike! Now what the heck was I going to do? The box was too heavy to carry with me and I couldn’t stay in Aire sur l'Adour indefinitely until the PO condescended to open again (it was a Thursday and if they weren't open tomorrow, I'd have to wait till Monday!).
I went to the Office de Tourisme and they told me the strike was only for one day, and had been planned for a long time (Now why couldn't they've told me that yesterday when I‘d asked them what time they opened?) Anyway no use recriminations - if I could find some kind, charitable soul who would post it for me tomorrow, I could be on my way. I thought of all the groups that I'd read about who are glad to help pilgrims in trouble. The Office de Tourisme told me to try the Mairie (the Town Hall). I went there and got shuffled to three different offices, who were all very sympathetic, but couldn't do anything to help. They told me to try the Presbytère, who would be sure to help. I went there and after waiting for the curé to finish mass I was ushered into his presence. When I explained my problem, he got angry - "Qu'est ce que tu veux que je fasse - je ne suis pas facteur". Not very helpful, but I had to admit he had a point! He sent me to the cathedral office, who sent me to the bureau d'aide au pèlerins, who sent me, guess where, to the Office de Tourisme. At this point I gave up hope of getting out of Aire sur l'Adour today and went back to the hotel to book an extra night. When I explained my problem, the lady at the hotel, bless her, immediately offered to post the box for me tomorrow. No problem, she'd be glad to. I thought there was a message in here somewhere. It reminded a little bit of the parable of the Good Samaritan, you know – something about the Priests and the Levites passing by on the other side!
I was late leaving after all this, but at least I was on my way. I asked the lady to post the box to me at St. Jean Pied de Port, my last point in France, because I thought it would be too complicated to ask her to send it to me in Spain and I had no idea how much it would cost. Now I suddenly started to realize that there was a very good chance I would out-walk my box. Oh well, nothing I can do about that now.
I had my first, very hazy, view of the Pyrenees today, from the appropriately named village of Miramont-Sensacq. Miramont means "look at the mountain" and recalls untold generations of pèlerins who had their first view of the Pyrenees from the same place. Don't ask me what Sensacq means. Incidentally, I've been asking countless people why many of the towns around here end in "-ac" (Figeac, Moissac, Aubrac, Souillac, Aurillac, Séviac etc), and now "-acq" - (Sensacq, Arzacq, Maslacq etc), but nobody seems to know. Oh well, I'll have to wait until I get home and have time to research it on the internet.
On April 4th I got to Arthez de Bearn and had the first really good view of the Haute-Pyrenees - snow capped and magnificent. We will be crossing further to the west where the mountains are not quite so high, and I hope they won't be snow-capped since I don't have any skis or snowshoes with me. There are only five days now before I cross into Spain and the excitement is starting to build. Somehow I feel that the pèlerinage proper starts there. This part in France has been a build-up to it, but it has been perfect in every way.
I got to St Jean Pied de Port on April 8th. I had been planning to stop there and take a break since I've been going non-stop since Moissac. I would catch up on my e-mail, and also it would give me another day in case I'd out-walked my box. When I found there was no internet access, and that my box had arrived, I decided to move on. To avoid any more problems with that stupid box, I took out the stuff I needed and sent it back home. Then I set off up the foothills off the Pyrenees to a tiny village called Hunto, where I spent the night at a very comfortable chambre d'hôte (B&B). There were quite a few people I hadn't met before - they'd all started at St. Jean Pied de Port. We had a convivial communal supper and breakfast and we all got to know each other – and a very pleasant group of people they were.
I took off early the next morning with my buddy Roger, a Breton I've been walking with on and off for over a week. The weather was kind of threatening, so we didn't dawdle. No views at the top, unfortunately, since we were up in the clouds. After only one stop for lunch, when Roger made hot coffee on his little gas stove, we arrived at the brooding Monastery of Roncesvalles high up on the Spanish side. We were in such good time, we decided to go on to the pretty little village of Burguete, and we arrived there about 2.30. The meal times are very strange in Spain. They don't serve supper until 8:30 or 9:00. But they were still serving lunch until 3:00, so I decided to eat right away. Roger said he'd wait, but very nearly regretted it when, at 8:30, we got to the Hotel Burguete, the only restaurant that was still open, and were told they only served residents of the Hotel. We looked so crestfallen, they took pity on us and served us anyway. I'm going to have to watch the meal times in Spain, and make sure I eat whenever food's available.
In the evening snow started to fall, but it wasn't settling. I was sharing a room with Roger, and both of us overslept. I didn't mind, because I wasn't going far, but Roger was upset because he wanted to go one stop further than me (Roger has a schedule for every night’s stay on his walk and has even booked his passage back to Bretagne on the Santander ferry – much too regimented for me). It was about 10:30 when I set off. The Pyrenees we had walked over yesterday were now covered in snow, and I thanked my lucky stars I hadn't taken a break in St. Jean Pied de Port.
Some hours later I caught up Marie, a Swedish woman I'd met in Hunto. I walked with her the rest of the day, and since she walks a lot slower than me, it was comparatively late (5:00 pm) when we arrived at the albergue in Larrasoaña. When I saw the place I was appalled. It was literally bulging at the seams – people just everywhere inside and spilling out of the front door. At first there seemed to be no possible room for us at all, but we managed to squeeze in somehow. The people in one of the dormitories squeezed up for Marie and I slept in the kitchen with two other people. I've no idea how many people there were, but it was too damned many. There was no hot water left either. Talk about culture shock - all these people must've started from Roncesvalles and I'd never seen them before. I was reminded of the old Chinese proverb "Be careful what you wish for". I'd been looking forward to some more company and now I've got it in spades. But how can people say they enjoy this sort of thing? I'm looking for peace and quiet, and the ability to choose company or not. Like I did on the AT - if the shelter was full, I'd sleep in my tent - no problem. In fact, I'd probably sleep in the tent anyway and enjoy some privacy. But I was told you didn't need a tent on the Camino and I don't have one with me - so it looks like I’m up the proverbial creek without a paddle!
Everybody was up before dawn the next morning and about the only subject of conversation at breakfast was how to get ahead of the others and grab a spot in the next albergue before all the crowds got there! What a dreadful frame of mind to approach what is supposed to be a journey of spiritual enlightenment! I can walk faster than most people, so I'll probably be OK - but that's not the point. That's the sort of "Blow you, Jack - I'm all right" attitude that I despise, and I don't want to be part of it. After all, no matter how early you start and how fast you go, someone’s got to arrive last, and what about them? If it's going to be dog eat dog all the way, to heck with it - I'd much rather be on the AT, or the John Muir Trail, or the Bruce Trail, or almost anywhere I could find peace and quiet- there's lots of trails I know I'd love.
I was planning to get a hotel room in Pamplona and take the break I didn’t get in St Jean Pied de Port, so for the moment I don't have to play the racing game. By the way I overtook quite a few people on the way to Pamplona – not because I was trying to but because that’s my normal pace (I’ll bet they thought I was racing though), and I spent much of the day thinking what a dreadful come down this is after the idyllic month I spent in France. The scenery has changed very much for the worse too, and most of the day was spent within earshot of a major highway and the last two hours into Pamplona were through busy streets, industrial slums and suburbs etc. Oh well, the old walled part of Pamplona where I am now is very pleasant and interesting, and I'm really enjoying my break. Maybe I overreacted to the contrast between France and Spain, and I'll adapt in time to the new conditions. The thing I can't understand, though, is that all of us came early to avoid this sort of thing. Someone told me they were typically 3000 pèlerins in the month of April and 15000 a month in June - Aug. If the albergues are bulging now, what on earth happens in June when they have five times as many. It must be unbelievable, total bedlam!
I'll probably spend another day here in Pamplona tomorrow. It's Sunday and there's a fiesta going on, which sounds interesting, and there's plenty to do and see. And I can use the time to decide what to do next. I'm sure I'll decide to continue for a bit and see what happens. Maybe it'll get better. So many people have walked the Camino and talked about what a wonderful experience it was - surely can't all be making it up to justify the time they wasted!
Sorry to end on a downbeat, but that's the way I feel. I hope there'll be more internet cafés in Spain than there were in France, because I feel better already just talking about it. I'll be in touch.
Regards
Chris (aka Frodo)
BULLETIN NO 5 from Calzadilla de la Cueza 23rd April 2003
Hello Everyone,
The approach to Castrojeriz
I'm now in Calzadilla de la Cueza in the middle of the Meseta, a high and dusty open plateau with very little vegetation and superb, sweeping vistas. If this had been Pilgrim's Progress, you could say I've been through the Slough of Despond. I’m sorry, but I thought the first part of Spain was really terrible. I had the impression I was either wallowing in ankle-deep, thick glutinous mud or walking beside major highways – and sometimes both at the same time. Imagine floundering along a muddy path in the drizzling rain alongside a major, and I mean major, traffic artery. That was coming out of Puenta la Reina. I thought if I have to put up with the noise and stink of the traffic I might as well walk on the shoulder and get it over quicker. But when I realized how dangerous that was I soon went back to the mud - at least that wasn't going to kill me. At one point the muddy path was very steep and slippery, and with gorse bushes on either side, there was nowhere else to go. The mud was all smooth and rounded, and it was obvious most people had been sliding down on their butt!! With the help of my two trecking poles, I was able to avoid that indignity, but the thought of it kept me chuckling to myself for quite a while! Amazingly enough, though people seem to be keeping quite cheerful in spite of everything - me included. The refugios have been crowded out, damp and cold and people arrive covered in mud from head to foot, and yet most of us still say we're enjoying ourselves – and mean it. When it gets really bad you either laugh or cry, and most of us choose to laugh, although a small minority are very bad-tempered and pushy.
The last few days have been much better, though. I am now through Burgos and seem to have left most of the traffic (pedestrian and motorized) behind. I'm now up on this lovely, lonely wild plateau they call the Meseta, and it's somehow all I imagined Spain to be.
We are now off the beaten track and instead of huge cities and traffic arteries we are passing through little sleepy, timeless villages - although there is the huge city of Leon to come in 3 days. Also, there are a lot fewer people. I didn’t realize it at the time but most of the overcrowding last week was because of the Easter holidays, when many Spanish people spend a week on the Camino, and don't really have time to get used to it. Now most of the people are "real" walkers (sorry if that sounds a bit snobbish), and the atmosphere is noticeably better, and of course, there's a lot less pushing and shoving if there's room for everyone.
I'm doing this at breakfast time so I shouldn't spend too long. I did a much longer message in Castrojeriz yesterday, but the telephone line went dead before I could send it. So I'll get this off right away before the same thing happens.
All the best
Chris (aka Frodo)
BULLETIN NO 6 from León - 26th April 2003
Hi Everyone,
Four Peregrinos at the Cathedral Square in León
I'm now in the lovely old city of León. I walked about 47 kms in the pouring rain yesterday to get here and I was knackered when I arrived. On top of that I've got blisters - but it was worth it! After checking into a nice hotel and soaking in a hot bath, I felt like a million bucks! My boots are starting to fall apart, and I took them to a cobbler who sewed them up for me. I think they'll last - I hope so. I've only got another 319 kms to go now, unless I go on to Finisterre (which I'm very tempted to do), in which case it'll be another 100 km. Then my boots can be honourably retired.
I spent all today sightseeing in the centre of this beautiful old city. After fighting the traffic in the "burbs" yesterday, the very centre of the old city is an oasis of calm. It's all pedestrian walkways, nice shops and sidewalk cafés. I really enjoyed sipping my beer at a sidewalk café and watching the world go by. Since the Camino went right past where I was sitting I met some old friends too, and a few other pélerins came up and chatted - we can all recognise each other very easily by our scruffy clothes and sandals!
I think the Spanish Camino is finally starting to work its magic on me, and I'm starting to see something of what people rave about. I still think, though, that compared with all the other trails I've walked, it doesn't really deserve its huge popularity. Most of the time it's very hard to feel yourself part of a great tradition going back thousands of years. There is incessant traffic noise a lot of the time as the Camino is routed alongside major roads (Or I should say the major roads are routed along the Camino since the Camino was here over a thousand years before the cars!) But even so, I don't know why they couldn't have changed the traditional routing of the path (as they did in France) to keep it away from the major roads and traffic. And I’m sorry to say it, but there are just too many people. Perhaps it's been oversold and it's now become the victim of its own success.
I was talking to a French woman the day before last, who had walked the Camino in 1999. She told me there is a noticeable increase in the number of people on the trail now and a noticeable deterioration in the attitude of some of the pélerins (and consequently some of the locals), only four years later. She also gave me another example. In order to get a "Compostela", which is a certificate from the church that you have made the pilgrimage, you only have to walk the last 100 kms from a place called Sarria. (A far cry from the old days when people had to walk from their homes and back again). She was a veritable pilgrim of the old school because she started walking from her home in Paris and is now on her way from Santiago back to Paris via Rome. I asked her how she was able to find her way in the reverse direction since (unlike France) there are no proper maps of the trail and the yellow arrows that everyone follows are only point in one direction. She horrified me by telling me she had had no trouble at all finding her way as far as Sarria - she just followed the trail of garbage! It seems then that many of the people walking this trail have never learnt the walker’s first law - leave no trace.
And we're all walking early in the season to try and avoid the crowds (Maybe that's part of the problem - we're making our own crowd!). Apparently, in July and August there could be 5 times as many people. I've no idea what they do with them. They used a novel solution in a place called Azofra when I was there. I just happened to get the last bed after walking an extra 6km because the previous place (Nájera) was full. Then more people arrived, and more people and even more! There must've been more than 12 extras. It was a tiny place and every square inch of floor space was used. It was late, there was nowhere else to go, and I was worried about what on earth was going to happen to these twelve people. They neatly solved that problem by letting them sleep in the church. It was cold apparently, but at least everyone had a roof over their heads.
Next year could be even worse. Whenever St James's day (25th July) falls on a Sunday (such as next year), the church declares a Holy Year, and anyone getting a Compostela in a Holy Year also gets a "Plenary Indulgence". Armed with one of these, supposedly when one dies the soul escapes from purgatory and goes straight to heaven (a sort of ghostly "get out of jail free" card). Personally, I don’t believe St. Peter would set much store by that kind of thing - but there are apparently still many, many people that do. So if you’re like me, I don't think you'd want to be anywhere near the Camino next year, especially in the high season.
By the way, I was sorry about my remark in my last bulletin about "real" walkers - I realised afterwards it sounded insufferably elitist. I certainly didn't mean to insult all those many walkers who only get out at weekends and for short times. What I was trying to say was that I have noticed that some people (only some people mind you) seem to need time to put all their pushy city ways behind them and learn to go with the flow. I think it was significant that, without exception, all the people who were pushing and shoving to get what they wanted last week were people who were only out for a few days. The people who have been on the Camino for some time are all much better mannered and considerate. I'm not sure if this is cause or effect though. Does it mean that walking the trail for a while teaches a person consideration - or does it mean that only those who are already considerate can stand it? I don't know. Maybe a bit of both.
Well, it's about time I stopped. Reading this over, I realise I have several times unfavourably compared the Camino in Spain with that in France. I'm sorry if it's tedious, but I would thoroughly recommend someone who is thinking of doing the 750kms from the Pyrenees to Santiago, to instead think of doing the 750kms from Le Puy to the Pyrenees. It's an altogether better experience in almost every way. You could probably go a bit later than I did too, if you wanted to meet more people, without running into crowds.
Chris (aka Frodo)
BULLETIN NO 7 from Astorga - 29th April 2003
Hello Everyone,
The Gaudi designed Bishop's Palace in Astorga
I'm now in Astorga and only have 259km to go to Santiago. During my two days in León I realised I am going much too fast and I've decided to slow down a bit from now on and really take the time to appreciate it more. Another benefit of doing this is that I will not be meeting a new group of people every night and never getting to know anyone very well. Just by taking two days off in León I've already allowed several people that I met way back to catch up, and I notice how they seem to be more like a family as they have been more or less together from the beginning and know each other well.
Also for the next 55km we'll be heading into the mountains and my guide book says it is the most beautiful 55km of the whole Camino. I'm really looking forward to it - it was a real lift to the spirits today to see some real snow-capped mountains looming in front, after the flat plateau of the Meseta that I've been traversing since Burgos (beautiful as it was in places). Also today, and yesterday, there were alternative paths available - one following the main road and one heading away from the traffic into the country. You needn't ask which one I took! The quiet path was also longer, with the result most people opted for the road, so I didn't see a single pélerin all day and hardly any traffic. Yesterday night I sought out the kindred spirits that had opted for the quieter, longer, option and we walked together today. I think there are a few of us now who, after we arrive in Santiago, want to go on another 85km to Cape Finisterre and find peace and quiet at the "end of the earth".
Astorga is an interesting and very ancient city, whose origins date back to Roman times over 2000 years ago. More recently its claim to fame was as the chocolate capital of Spain. As in many cities in Spain there are active archaeological sites right in the middle of the city. In Pamplona a large section of the main city square was fenced off while archaeologists were carefully digging and sifting through the remains of an ancient civilisation - in this case the Romans, although they also say that the Phoenicians were in Astorga and the surrounding area long before that.
Well, it's about 7 pm and I think I'll stop now and do a little sightseeing before joining some others for "cena" later on. Surprisingly there are many Canadians on the camino and no less than five of us staying at the albergue here tonight.
Regards,
Chris (aka Frodo)
BULLETIN NO 8 from Ponferrada – 1st May 2003
Hello Everyone,
Chris at the Templar Castle of Ponferada
I've just arrived in Ponferrada, after my very best day of walking on the Camino yet. I spent last night in Rabanal, in a VERY pleasant and welcoming albergue run by the Confraternity of St James - a group from England. It was a lovely old village and the albergue was right next to the church. When I arrived, there was someone practising on the organ so I went in and listened until the albergue opened at 2:30. I'd already found out that the restaurant across the street served lunch (comida) up until 3:30, so I had to hustle to get my hot shower and into clean clothes before the restaurant closed. Lunch is the main meal of the day in Spain and it's usually served from about 1:30 to 3:30. The Menu usually consists of two main dishes and a dessert and almost as much wine as you want to drink (the wine is incredibly cheap here - a good vin ordinaire might cost about 1 Euro a bottle). I'm finding if I take a late lunch, it serves as an early supper for me, and I don't bother to go back for supper (cena) at around 9:30. I find it’s much too late to start a big meal especially as "lights out" in the albergues is around 10:30-11:00. So as I say I try and get my late lunch and then I just have a nibble on the stuff I have in my pack in the evening. Last night it was smoked oysters on crispbread. There was a very pleasant companionable atmosphere in the common room with everyone swapping stories in front of a blazing log fire. At 7:00 nearly everyone went to the church for vespers and half an hour of Gregorian chanting from the monks at the local monastery.
This morning they gave us a good breakfast at the albergue and then it was off up into the mountains. The weather was clear and cool and the views as we got higher and higher were stunning. There are very few trees and on a clear day like today the eye can range it seems like forever, wave upon wave of mountains with the low early morning sun glinting on the snow-capped peaks. It was a very easy trail, some of it on a mountain road with almost no traffic, and much of the time the trail took us away from the road and up much higher. By the time we got the top the sun was high enough to make it pleasantly warm but still not too hot. I was planning to stop at a place called Molinaseca since that would account for my daily ration of 26km that I'd decided to limit myself to. However, resolutions are made to be broken and I felt so good when I arrived in Molinaseca that I just had to go on another 8km to this beautiful city of Ponferrada. I'm very glad I did too because I met another group of old friends here that I haven't met in a while. The only little problem was I arrived too late for my lunch and now I'm going to have to go for a heavy meal in the evening. Oh well, no problem. There are a lot of us in the same boat so it should be a nice convivial supper. And a real United Nations too, with Canadian, German, Australian, French and Spanish people represented. Our linguistic skills, such as they are, will really be put to the test!
Tomorrow I hope will be another day of the same as there are plenty of mountains to the west and the forecast is for four more days of good weather. After a rather shaky start my Camino experience in Spain is really turning into an idyll now. France was really wonderful but until recently Spain had been a bit of a disappointment. All that is forgotten now!
I must stop now and do a bit of sightseeing before supper.
Regards
Chris (aka Frodo)
BULLETIN NO 9 from Santiago de Compostela – 9th May 2003
Hi Everyone,
A group of Peregrinos at the Cathedral in Santiago
I finally arrived in Santiago yesterday and it's a really captivating place - another wonderful old city a bit like León with a city centre that is completely off limits to cars, with quiet streets, many interesting shops, bars, restaurants and sidewalk cafés. It's kind of bitter-sweet to arrive here and realise our long pélerinage is all but over. A whole batch of friends left yesterday, then more arrived and are leaving today. At lunch, Barbara (one of the German pélerins) summed up my feelings very well when she said (and in English too) "I wanted to GO to Santiago, but I didn't really want to GET there!".
I'm planning to walk on another three or four days to Cape Finisterre as are a few others, but it's going to be a much smaller group. If I had any doubts that I wanted to go on to Finisterre, they were dispelled this morning when I heard the cry of the gulls over the city and realised how close we are to the sea.
Since my last bulletin in Ponferrada a lot has happened, but I think the main thing for me was somewhere along the way I was changed from being a bit of a sceptic about the Camino to a convert. No blinding white light or anything like that, but I finally see what it is that makes people put up with the mud, the cold, the heat, the rain, the noise and all the privations of refugio living and remember the experience in such glowing terms, (and in many cases keep on coming back for more). There's just so much about it that's awe-inspiring, and all the negative things only serve in the end to emphasize the positive.
After leaving Ponferrada, there was another glorious day climbing up to a lovely little village called O Cebreiro, right at the very top of the last range of mountains we'll climb, from where the views were magnificent in all directions and the sunset one of the finest I've seen. From there it was down into the plains of Galicia, which are well known for their almost continual rain (you know - the rain in Spain falls mainly in the plain!). The last three days before walking into Santiago, I must've taken my poncho on and off about four or five times each day as it alternated between rain and sun (giving frequent rainbows to guide the way).
In spite of this, though, we've been incredibly lucky with the weather here in Santiago for the last two days. Santiago is in the very centre of Galicia and is supposed to be the rainiest city in Spain, and yet since I arrived here it has been continual sunshine. I don't mind walking in the rain, but you really need sunshine when all you want to do is sit with friends at a sidewalk café, drinking beer and watching the world go by.
I went to the pilgrim mass at the Cathedral this morning and though I didn't understand much of what was going on, I still found it a moving experience. The highlight of the service was the "botafumiero" - a giant censer that is swung by a rope from a pulley at the very top of the nave, and with about ten sacristans heaving on the rope in time with the swing, they get it swinging higher and higher until it almost hits the roof. All the while spewing forth huge clouds of incense. Tradition is that it was used in the old days to fumigate the assembled pilgrims – I guess they needed that and more!
Heck, I've just realised I missed the meeting place for "cena" and I don't know where everyone went. Oh well, I'll have a meal on my own for a change, and maybe write up some more impressions for my journal before I forget it all. Then it's an early night and off again in the morning to Finisterre. I'll get the bus back to Santiago when I get there, and check in on my e-mail again around Wednesday if all goes well.
Regards to all,
Chris (aka Frodo)
BULLETIN NO 10 from Santiago de Compostela – 17th May 2003
Sunset from Finisterre (the end of the world!)
I’m back in Santiago again now after walking to Finisterre. I set off last Sunday - a day later than planned. On Friday evening, after writing my last bulletin, I was on my way back to my hotel for a quiet early night prior to setting off in the morning when I ran into a crowd of pélerins I hadn’t met in a while. They were planning a round of the bars Spanish style - drinking, dancing and talking into the small hours. How could I resist! Needless to say after that I slept in, so Saturday was another nice relaxing rest day, meeting yet more old friends who were just arriving. I’m glad I decided to stay – those moments are precious.
On Sunday I ran out of excuses and off I went. There is really only one way of doing the walk to Finisterre. It’s about 85km and there are only the two albergues on the way. So it’s a three day walk and everyone has to stay at the same place each night. There were only a few of us and we all knew there would be plenty of room, so everyone was taking their time. Some of the women had been warned not to walk alone because for some reason (maybe because there are so few walkers here) there are some strange characters infesting this part of the Camino. So instead of going it alone, as usual, we were all looking out for each other. This made for a pleasant atmosphere of camaraderie, which was quite different from the atmosphere on the main Camino, which was more of an individual effort. I thought of this three-day walk as the “icing on the cake” and I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. It was nearly all very peaceful walking along footpaths, country lanes and quiet roads, through interesting little villages, across old bridges over rushing rivers – up hill and down dale past lovely rural scenery. And on top of all this, on the third day, we had our first sight of the sea to look forward to. And as if this wasn’t enough the weather was beautiful all the way – almost none of that rain that Galicia is famous for.
The first night was spent in a brand new albergue a bit past Negreira and most of us walked back into the town for supper at a Pizza restaurant. The next morning, rather than walk back into town again, we all walked 6km before breakfast at a bar in Peña. That night we stayed at Olveiroa, a tiny village of one narrow street just off a main road. The albergue was new and comfortable, but in an old stone building which might have been a stable or a barn perhaps. In the evening the hospitalero (the volunteer in charge of the albergue) treated us all to a communal supper of delicious chunky soup with bread and red wine. There was no charge for this, they only ask for donations. The way it works is that our supper was paid for by the donations from the previous night, and our donations pay for the next night’s supper – and so on. A great system that encourages everyone to be as generous as they can.
The third day dawned clear once again and there was a thrill of anticipation that today we would finally see the sea. After a good breakfast of “café con leche y bocadillo de tortilla francesa con queso” at the bar on the main road, I walked with Barbara – a German pélerin - for the rest of the day. We finally got our first glimpse of the sea as we came down the hill towards the large twin seaside towns of Cée and Corcubión. We brought stuff for a picnic lunch at Corcubión and ate it on a very nice sandy beach at Estorde. Barbara went paddling and two of the others, Brian and Fabiana, actually went in for a very short swim. We were all pleased to see that the beaches were reasonably clean after the recent oil spill, although it was clear that the rocks and the mollusc beds will take many years to recover. We dawdled along and finally got to the small fishing port of Finisterre at about 5:30.
In the evening we walked another 3km to see the sunset from the lighthouse at the end of Cape Finisterre. We had been mulling over the idea of walking another day to a place called Muxia (further north up the coast), and perhaps even walking back to Santiago from there, but after watching the sunset both of us felt our camino was over. That sunset was a very emotional moment and it just seemed so much like a finale – a bit like the lowering of the curtain on our Camino. And after all, we have to stop somewhere and where more appropriate than the “end of the earth”.
The next morning a group of us went to a beach on the other side of the isthmus from the port of Finisterre. This beach faces west and we had hoped to see some of the big Atlantic rollers. But the sea was quite calm and I actually went paddling – it was pretty cold though and I wouldn’t have wanted to swim in it.
Then in the afternoon, it was back in the bus to Santiago (that was Wednesday), and I’ve been lazing around here since. Each day though, I meet fewer and fewer people I know, although there’s still plenty to see and do. I went to a pilgrim mass again this morning and got a much better view of the “botafumiero”, because I was sitting in the transept. I took a lot of pictures too. The first time I saw it, I thought it would be disrespectful to take pictures in a cathedral in the middle of a mass, but when I saw everyone else was doing it, I thought why not? I think they do it as a big tourist attraction anyway, and it’s apparently the only place in the world where they have anything like it. It was hard to take pictures though because this gigantic contraption (it’s about 5 feet high and weighs about 150 pounds) was swinging almost right over my head, belching out great clouds of smoke and fire. They got it swinging so high at one point I thought it was going to hit the roof of the transept about 60 feet up, and looking more closely afterwards I thought I could see some chips in the stone where that had happened!
But all good things must come to an end, and tomorrow I’m off to Switzerland to spend some time walking in the mountains with an old friend of mine. From there I go to England to see my sisters and finally back to Canada. It will be strange to be back in a “normal” life again - if there is such a thing!.
Regards to all
Chris (aka Frodo)