May 21, 2013. Arzua to Arca O Pino Pedrouzo

Awake, I knew in my bones that this day was different. How was that possible? On the Camino the last 39 days we had experienced every kind of weather. The trail had presented us with every condition and trial. We had endured illness and injury. Each day had offered new friendships with like-minded people from the world over. At 19km the distance was not significantly different compared to any other day. So, how could this day possibly be different.

It weighed upon my spirit much like my pack bore down on my shoulders. This day, tonight, would be the last one slept on the Camino. Tomorrow we would walk into Santiago.

The three of us said goodbye to our hosts at Pension Casa Frade and left Arzua, the last major population center before Santiago, quickly finding ourselves embraced by the early morning peace of the countryside.

Kris and Christine kept close, a mirror of their friendship while I with wandering eye looked for photo opportunities.

I also played music from my iPod through earphones. For some Peregrinos it is deemed heresy on the Camino to conceal Nature’s music with that orchestrated by man. For me, Leonard Cohen’s “Suzanne”, and especially “Hallelujah”, among others provided an emotional soundtrack to the magnificent cinema that played out before me, one step at a time.

Country land, forest path, verdant canopied woods, It was a day that hinted at the reward to come tomorrow, a metaphor for the Paradise that many believe awaits us at the end of a life’s journey well lived.

As if to reinforce my thoughts I smiled as I came upon another allegorical example of the “now”, and the “hereafter”. The J. F. Abel Construction Company proudly presented “before and after” examples of structures that it had “resurrected” from one life into another. How lovely it would be to retire to Spain and settle into one of those enchanting homes with ancient roots.

The path provided other reminders of past travels and the venerated long forgotten.

There were also those who sought Santiago, only to have their journey rerouted to a more final destination.

At age 69, Guillermo Watt, a pilgrim on the Camino, died of a heart attack on this spot on August 25, 1993. Guillermo, variously identified as an Englishman or of Swiss origin, was only a day, 25km, from his destination. His monument reads, “He embraced God at the age of 69, a day from Santiago on August 25, 1993, now alive in Christ.”

Since Sarria the number of pilgrims walking the Camino had grown exponentially. We now frequently encountered organized groups who walked together, largely keeping to themselves.

Between 2013 and 2020 Kris Ashton shepherded 7 different groups on the Camino. Each of these were made up of members of a Colorado hiking club. Kris has also had the experience of walking a number of “solo” Caminos. In discussing the difference between these experiences she explained that in spite of her efforts to encourage the groups to spread out and embrace the multi-cultural friendships that the Camino offers, group members tended to remain consolidated. It would be easy to conclude that the members miss something important in not “mixing” outside the group. However, it occurs to me that a shared experience among friends who will remain in close contact for years to come also has special value.

Nearing our destination for the day we again had to hazard a crossing of the increasingly busy N-547.

Arca (parish) O Pino (municipality) Pedrouzo (administrative district), “Arca” for short, presented an unusual church that was worth a visit.

Igrexa de Santa Eulalia (Church of St. Eulalia) was “new” by Camino standards. The original 17^th Century edifice was destroyed by fire in the 19^th Century. Rebuilt, the church, also known as “La Iglesia de la Concha” (Church of the Shell), has a simple exterior, but features an unusual apse formed in the shape of a scallop shell, a symbol of the Camino.

There was also a noteworthy statue of a saint in the garb of a medieval pilgrim.

Often mistaken for St. James (Santiago), this was San Roque (born 1295 or 1348,  died 1327 or 1376). San Roque is the patron saint of dogs, invalids, falsely accused people, and plague victims, among other things. His fame and journey to sainthood began at birth when his “barren” mother, praying to the Virgin Mary, was graced with the child. Roque was born with the birthmark of a cross on his chest. He was reputed to be a holy and devout child into adulthood. Coming of age, he abandoned his worldly possessions and pursued a life of austere simplicity, ministering to the poor and those afflicted with the Plague. During the ravages of the “Black Death” he himself fell ill and retreated into the woods to die. He survived thanks to the help of a dog that brought him bread, water, and healed Roque’s wounds by licking them. Thus, statues of him are distinct for the presence of a dog with a loaf in its mouth, the lifted skirt with the Saint gesturing to a wound on his leg, and the garb of a pilgrim.

As a patron saint of plague victims, veneration of San Roque has found renewed popularity in the era of COVID-19.

We bid goodbye to Kris before reaching our accommodations for the night. Kris wished to experience the meditative solace of a night alone and the solitary walk into Santiago the next day. We understood how our experience as a couple might become a distraction for her. With hugs held long we parted, no assurance that our paths would again cross.

Christine and I lodged at the very comfortable Pension Maribel. However, the delight of the evening was served at the nearby Café-Bar O Pedrouzo. Not a place for vegetarians, this restaurant was a tour de force for any meat lover. We were served one of the finest beef dinners that we have ever experienced.

It was a fitting celebration of our last night on the Camino. Tomorrow, Santiago.

Peace Everyone, and Buen Camino. Pete

           

May 20, 2013. O Coto to Arzua

Awake with the dawn we bid our farewell to the “Two Germans” and stepped into the fog. It would be some time before the sun cut through the cold and gave us a better view down “The Way”.

We were three days and roughly 60km from Santiago. Our goal from O Coto that day was to reach the town of Arzua. It was a longish 20km haul for Christine, but she and Kris had arranged for the transport of their packs ahead to our destination.  Kris kept a light daypack with water, snacks, rainwear, and her dear stuffed bunny companion, “Marshmallow”. I continued to carry my pack.

Fast-forward for a moment to the present: I have known Kris Ashton for over 8 years and never have I known her to travel without the security of her little friend. That bunny has more miles under her feet than the little stone garden Gnome featured in the movie “Amelie”.

Perish the thought that anyone would ever think it clever to separate Kris from Marshmallow.

Many of us have small icons of comfort that we carry or wear by habit. For some it is a wedding ring, others a photo. We see sports figures wearing theirs. I have mine. There is an unexplainable solace found in these innocent talismans. To each her own. Marshmallow brings a smile to my face whenever I see her (him?).

Back to the Camino: On this day we would wind back and forth across the N-547 traffic artery. This was much less pleasant than the 6 or so rivers that we would cross with the aid of ancient stone bridges and stepping-stones.

Minutes on the trail and we came to the tiny village of Leboreiro, the river Seco, and the first of these bridges, Puente Maria Magdalena.

We also passed by the 13^th Century church of Santa Maria. The church was closed, but this did not prevent us from taking in the beautiful relief of the Madona and Child above the entry.

Local lore says that hundreds of years ago a statue of the Virgin was found in a nearby fountain. The townspeople retrieved the figure and placed it within their church. However, the next morning the sculpture was gone, only to again be found in the fountain. This “dance” played out again and again over a number of days until the citizens decided to dedicate their church to Mary and carve her image above the entrance. Thereafter the statue was said to cease its wanderings and has remained within the church ever since.

A few kilometers later we came to another traditional Camino village, Furelos, at the banks of the Furelos River. We crossed on its ancient Bridge of St. John (‘Ponte de San Xoan”) which dates to at least the 1100’s.

By mid-morning we had made our way into Melide (pop. 8,000), a center of government and commerce in the region. Here we happily found a milestone reminder that we were now only 50km from Santiago.

This region has embraced a variety of inhabitants for thousands of years. Archaeological evidence of Celtic people, who pre-date the Romans, exists throughout the region. Remnants of the Celtic heritage also persists in the culture of Galicia.

In Melida is the 12^th Century Romanesque Igrexa Santa Maria de Melida (Church of Saint Mary), a national monument.

Just beyond Melida we entered lowland woods where Eucalyptus trees became more prominent. This non-native species which can grow to over 300 feet tall, was intentionally imported from Australia in the belief that their fast growth (50+ feet in just a few years) would be a boon to Spain’s paper industry. Sadly, vast forests of native oak, once the foundation of Spain’s sea-power and “Armada”, were destroyed in order to make room for these monumental “weeds” which now account for nearly a third of Galicia’s forestlands.

At the stone crossing of the Rio Raido we encountered a man who had established a small stand where he offered words of encouragement to passing Peregrinos. He also offered to stamp the pilgrims’ “credenciales’. Curious, we stopped to visit and look upon the array of literature which graced his modest table. As he first stamped, and then hot-wax sealed, our “pilgrim passports”, parts of his story came to the fore.

Ionut Preda was born in Romania to athletically gifted parents. Following in their footsteps he successfully pursued interests in gymnastics, swimming, weightlifting, track and field, and judo. In competitions he has won over 100 national and international medals. As he says on his Spanish language website (Ionut Preda – More Than a Path (masqueuncamino.com)), “My path was not easy, because at the age of 8 I suffered an accident… that caused the amputation of half of my right foot.”

In June of 2000 Ionut set off to bicycle around the world. He made it across Europe to Spain where, unhappily, his bicycle was stolen. Worse, the condition of his right foot was deteriorating, and it became necessary for surgeons to amputate the leg just below the knee.

Ionut remained in Spain, working and settling into the routine of ordinary life. “With the payment of rent, expenses, and with a sentimental relationship, there was not time left for the bicycle. I traded it in for a car… I led a quiet life, (but) something inside me was empty and the concern to help others was still within me.”

In 2009 Ionut received a call from Romania that his father was at death’s door suffering the ravages of cancer.  At his father’s side, Ionut promised his father that he would someday secure a Paralympic Gold Medal in his honor and memory.

His athletic accomplishments have occurred in spite of his “handicap”. Ionut has bicycled through 26 countries, walked the Camino, and he continues to work on a number of solidarity projects, the goal being to help others. “Traveling, God gave me the opportunity to meet a great woman who today is my wife… and rewarded us with Emanuel, our son. They fill me with motivation and the desire to leave a legacy, If I can, you can too!”

Now at 40 years of age (2021), Ionut Preda continues his pursuit of Paralympic Gold.  For his father.

Past the Rio Raido we continued for another 12km.

We walked through a series of small Camino towns and then across the Rio Iso on one more medieval bridge (Puente Ribadiso) in the village of that name (pop. 67).

More Eucalyptus woods and the quiet of the afternoon were occasionally broken by the distraction of road traffic from nearby N-547 that crossed our path a few more times over the distance. My thoughts returned now and then to Ionut.

 Arzua (pop.7.000) represented the final major population center before Santiago. We checked in to Pension Casa Frade for the night.

Dinner (for me) was classic Gallaecian fare, Polbo a feira (literally meaning “fair-style octopus“, pulpo a la gallega in Spanish, meaning Galician-style octopus) boiled octopus tentacles, seasoned and sautéed in olive oil. In the traditional manner, it was served on a large wooden platter and eaten with toothpicks. Marvelous!

At the time that I was enjoying this delicacy I was ignorant of the research that was revealing that these cephalopods, unlike dimwitted bovine, are self-aware and possess the intellectual capacity of at least a 4 year old child. Imagine what they would be capable of if Nature had not shackled them with only a two year lifespan.

If you enjoy eating octopus, as I once did, do not watch the movie, My Octopus Teacher.

Peace Everyone, and Buen Camino. Pete

 

May 15, 2013. Alto do Poio to Albergue El Beso Ecologico

How different can two days be! On May 14^th we had gloried above the clouds at O Cebreiro, walked under clear blue skies, and relaxed with beers in hand outside our hostel.

At 7 a.m. on May 15^th we walked out the door of Hostal Santa Maria do Poio and into an arctic freezer! It was bone chilling cold. Christine had prudently bundled at the urging of our host, but I let optimism sway me and continued wearing shorts.

Looking back on my pictures I see that I had gloves on, but Christine did not. Chivalry had apparently given way that morning to the demands of shivering.

This would be a relatively short day of 15km. Thankfully, it was all downhill to Triacastela, a pleasant descent of 2,150 feet into warmer daytime temperatures.

There was little of special interest those first 13km on to Triacastela except a pleasant country path, the small chapel of San Pedro at Biduedo, and a few cows that we had to make way for, all shared with my wife. In other words, those kilometers were full of what was special.

By noon we were well along the ancient woodland path that had been deeply worn down below the adjacent land, this the result of centuries of passage by countless pilgrims and livestock

Just before Triacastela  we came upon a huge, gnarled Chestnut tree. The “Chestnut Tree of Ramil” is legendary.

Scientists have estimated its age at nearly 900 years. When Aymeric Picaud, author of the Codex Calixtinus, walked the Camino in the 12^th Century this tree would have cast its shade upon him. The circumference of its base is nearly 30 feet. A small signboard gave notice to pilgrims that this was a living thing to be marveled at.

My children and grandchildren know that I am fond of embracing the huge Oak trees of our neighborhood, I am a literal “tree-hugger”. There is something spiritual in feeling life that moves rhythmically through the seasons; solid, slow, and very old. If trees were conscious of us we would be but passing wisps of smoke, except when we take them down for our own purposes.

There is an excellent children’s book, “The Giving Tree” by Shel Silverstein, that may be read as a metaphor with a very adult lesson. “…and she (the tree) loved a little boy very, very much, even more than she loved herself.” Spiritual? Perhaps. Controversial? Some reviewers assert that the relationship between the boy and the tree is abusive rather than loving. Draw  your own conclusions.

It is a book best read to a child by an adult who loves that child. The challenge arises in moving the final words to one’s lips, past a lump in one’s throat.

Triacastela (pop. 665) gets its name from the three castles that once stood here at the time the town was sacked by Norman invaders around the year 968. It is mentioned in the Codex Calixtinus and has remained an important waypoint on the Camino. A significant amount of material used in the construction of the Santiago Cathedral was sourced here.

As we entered the town we saw four pilgrims ahead in the distance. Seeing us, two turned and rapidly jogged back toward us, the other two stopping on the road. It was our Camino friends,  Kris Ashton and the German pilgrim Stephanie Setz. With tears of joy, Christine and Kris embraced. Ahead were our Canadian pilgrim friends Les and Mary Virtue. The six of us joined for a rest and refreshments, the women posing for a picture.

Kris told us of an unusual albergue that she had heard of. It was about 2km ahead and was the day’s intended destination for her and Stephanie. They urged us to join them. Les and Mary would continue on their own way. With a steep climb ahead and no other lodging options for another 8km the decision to join Kris and Stephanie was gratefully made.

In 2011 two Peregrinos, Jessica from Italy, and Marijn from the Netherlands, met on the Camino and fell in love. They fell in love with each other and with the Camino, deciding to make a life with each other on “The Way”.

They began a search for a suitable place to open their own albergue. Their funds were limited but it seemed that their energy was boundless. In 2012 they found a wreck of an ancient farmhouse that had not been occupied for 40 years. Parts of the house were said to be 800 years old and looked it.

Their vision was to open a unique albergue that focused on delivering an “ecological experience” to pilgrims. Thus El Beso Ecologico (“The Ecological Kiss”) was born.

The couple, acting as hospitaleros, provided clean but sparse accommodations. A common room, heated by an ancient iron stove provided a place to gather and relax.

Jessica prepared a strictly vegan communal dinner and breakfast.

The unheated sleeping dormitory adjoined the communal room and drew minimal heat from the iron stove. Two toilets and a shower served the needs of up to 10 pilgrims. There were but 4 of us staying that night.

The couple proudly showed us their ongoing restoration project and what lay ahead. They provided the labor, supplemented occasionally by pilgrim volunteers. They also shared that they were expecting a child.  

In writing this post I became curious about how the couple had done over the last 8 years. The internet provided answers and images. El Beso continued operations until suspended by COVID in 2020. During the closing the couple undertook to expand the facilities.

Their Facebook page gives insight into their efforts to improve upon their 10 year vision… and they are proud parents of an 8 year old boy. However a recent Facebook post shows that El Beso is now for sale, “The albergue is for sale. After many years of enjoying and living on this beautiful spot on the Camino we decided to move on…”

This was not a stay for everyone. It was perhaps our coldest night sleeping during the entire journey. However, Jessica’s vegan culinary skills were exceptional, as was the company.

These were two of the most gracious, welcoming, and heartwarming hosts that we met on the Camino. We were treated more like friends and family than mere boarders passing through. I hope that in “moving on” they find that life rewards them with “El Beso” (The Kiss) of health and happiness.

Peace Everyone. And of course, Buen Camino! Pete

 

May 14, 2013. Vega de Valcarce to Alto do Poio

With 21km ahead of us that included 2 steep mountain climbs, one an increase of nearly 2,400 feet, we were out the door and on our way by 7 a.m.. The 14^th Century Castillo de Sarracin loomed above and to our left, a shadowy outline in the early morning twilight.

The first few kilometers tracked along the rural N-VI roadway, which thankfully had very little traffic at that hour.

We continued through the tiny village of Ruitelan which was nestled in the shadow of the towering flyover bridgework of the busy A-6 expressway.

Within an hour of our departure we had reached Herrerias (pop. 600). Leaving the roadway behind us, we began our climb to O Cebreiro. The mountains that surrounded us kept us in shadows for another hour.

The ascending path was rock-strewn. Footfalls of countless pilgrims over the centuries had worn the trail as if it had been intentionally dug.

As we climbed the views extended outward and we were treated to stunning vistas, clear skies, and perfect weather.

About a kilometer before O Cebreiro we encountered a heavily graffitied stone monument marking the frontier border between the autonomous regions of Castilla y Leon and Galicia.

More than just a line on a map, this demarcation also heralds the entry into a culturally distinct region. At times, Galicia looks and feels more like Ireland than Spain. Thick stews are popular, and as one nears the coast dishes of fish, shrimp, and octopus become favorites of the inhabitants, and certain Peregrinos (me!).

Farms are small and their unique stone granaries (“horreos:”) become commonplace.

A regional language, galego, is still spoken. As in other Celtic countries there is a concerted effort to preserve the ancient languages and other long-held traditions. With Santiago de Compostela as its capital, we know that we are entering the final stretch.

 At an elevation of 4,300 feet, O Cebreiro is a tiny hamlet located at one of the highest points of the Camino. Its fame derives from a miracle alleged to have occurred in an ancient church situated in the village.

Dating to the 9^th Century, parts of Iglesia de Santa Maria Real (Church of St. Mary) comprise one of the oldest buildings, and the oldest church associated with the Camino de Santiago. The original church was largely destroyed in the early 19^th Century but rebuilt on the original foundation between 1965 and 1971. Within the church is the original baptismal font.

Many believe that on a wintery day in the 14^th Century a tired priest was saying Mass in this small church. A peasant from a nearby village, having hazarded the arduous climb to the church in a raging snowstorm, entered the church at the moment of the Eucharistic Consecration of the bread and wine.  The priest took exception to the peasant’s late arrival, berated him accordingly, and further criticized him for having risked his life to merely watch a perfunctory religious ceremony.  At that moment the bread and wine were said to have miraculously transformed to the actual flesh and blood of Christ.

The Eucharistic miracle of O Cebreiro was confirmed in 1487 by Pope Innocent VIII. The chalice, particles of the transformed bread and wine were placed in a reliquary that was donated by Queen Isabella. In addition to the baptismal font, the paten and chalice associated with the miracle have been preserved. The church also contains a statue of the Virgin Mary that dates to the 12^th Century.

The importance of the miracle is such that the flag and coat of arms of Galicia include the image of the chalice and Eucharist.

At O Cebreiro we found ourselves literally above the clouds.

The village is not only a  literal and figurative “high-point” on the Camino, but it attracts flocks of non-Peregrino tourists. Virtually all accommodations here were booked.

We took time to wander through the hamlet, take some refreshments, and of course some pictures.

This “Palloza”, a design which dates to pre-Roman times, is located at O Cebreiro.  The image is courtesy of the internet.

As luck would have it, when we arrived at O Cebreiro a taxi pulled up in front of us. Exiting the cab was Patricia, a pilgrim from New York. Weeks earlier at Orisson Refuge she had made a tactless public comment when Christine arranged transport to avoid the very difficult climb over the Pyrenees Mountain pass to Roncesvalles. “Real pilgrims carry their packs and walk every step of the way.” Apparently her definition of a “real pilgrim” had changed over the course of the last 700km.

Our destination for the day was 9km ahead, Alto do Poio. Although it is situated at nearly the same elevation as O Cebreiro, the path descends in the interim and then makes a wicked climb over the last 1km to the highest point on the Camino in Galicia (4,380 feet). At the top are two lodging options situated on opposite sides of a road, and little else.

After mentally flipping a coin we registered for the night at Hostal Santa Maria do Poio. It appeared a more comfortable option than the albergue across the way, plus activity outside of the albergue hinted at a full complement of customers.

Checked into our room we moved with beers in hand to outside tables bathed with warming sunlight from the still clear sky. A few minutes later we were joined by our Camino friend, Kris Ashton of Denver Colorado.

Back at O Cebreiro Kris heard that we had recently passed through. She put her walking shoes into “high gear”, hoping to catch us. By the time that she reached Alto do Poio she believed that she had lost us. Fortunately, she saw us just as we sat down across the way to enjoy our restful libations (aka beer!). She joined us for a rest and an adult beverage before continuing on another 3km to her intended destination for the night, Fonfria. We did not know it at the time, but this effectively began the final stretch of the journey into Santiago, the 3 of us sharing company, stories, and cementing a friendship that has endured now for over 8 years. One of the most valuable and enduring gifts of our 2013 Camino.

Peace Everyone. And of course, Buen Camino! Pete