May 16, 2013. Albergue El Beso Ecologico to Barbadelo

May 15^th had opened to heavy frost, fog, and freezing temperatures.  So what’s the problem with a little rain falling on the morning of the 16^th? Nothing, provided it is just a “little rain”. It was not. We opened the door of Albergue to a torrential downpour. Stephanie, Kris, Christine and I put our heads together and made a plan.

We were 132km from Santiago with Sarria 17km ahead. Sarria, a town of 15,000, is the most popular starting point on the French Route of the Camino. 2019 was a record year with over 350,000 Peregrinos obtaining certificates of completion (Compostela) in Santiago. Of the 60,000 pilgrims who started 830km away in St. Jean Pied-de-Port (France), 35,000 completed the journey. A whopping 96,124 who started in Sarria in 2019 received Compostelas.  

Sarria is 115km from Santiago, it is a major transportation center, and has dozens of lodging options for the throngs of pilgrims who choose to overnight or begin their Camino there. It is also beyond the 100km minimum radius journey to Santiago necessary to earn a Compostela. It was NOT the place we wished to spend the night.

A little over 4km beyond Sarria is the tiny village of Barbadelo. At 110 km from Santiago Christine could transport there, taking Kris’ backpack with her, secure lodgings for us, and still qualify for the Compostela by walking the remainder of the way to Santiago. With four lodging options and located so close to Sarria, we concluded that there was a high likelihood Christine would find us beds there. Furthermore, her recent bout with pneumonia was a strong incentive for her not to walk 21km in the driving rain. Our hosts at El Beso called a cab for Christine and the rest of us were off on foot.

A little more than a kilometer down the mud sodden path we came upon a rest area shared by a roadway. There was an unusual fountain with a large decorative scallop shell worthy of  pictures in spite of the risk the rain posed to my camera.

Rain militated against my usual quantity of pictures. However, what I lacked in quantity I made up in quality, preserving enough images to shore up memories of a beautiful (wet!) countryside.

The closer we drew to Santiago the deeper the trodden paths became. At times it felt like we were walking in World War I trenches. Rain enhanced the impression.

We had read that about a quarter-mile off the Camino, near the hamlet of Fontearcuda, was a peculiar sort of place run by an equally peculiar man. Kris and I decided to satisfy our curiosity and take the detour. Stephanie continued on solo.

“Alquimia Mineral” (Mineral Alchemy) was a well-worn cottage complex located deep in a tangle of woods. The proprietor, Antonio Bello, was as unusual as his house. The place was a mixture of art gallery, studio, museum, workshop, and spiritual retreat.

Antonio was its proud proprietor. He presented himself as part mystic, alchemist,  artist, philosopher, and as an entirely gentle soul.

 

He was 68 years old and had spent the last 30 years at his “House of the Alchemist”. A few years earlier the Camino had passed directly in front of the entrance of his compound, an inviting stop for Peregrinos on their way to Santiago. However, a subsequent modification to the route meant fewer but more dedicated visitors for him. We counted ourselves fortunate to be counted among them.

At the end of a well spent hour Kris Ashton and I continued through the countryside, on through Sarria, and on to Barbadelo.

In my haste, and again with deference to the elements, I took no pictures as we quickly made our wet and unpleasant way through Sarria.

Christine had four lodging options to explore in Barbadelo (pop. 176). Her first choice was a private Albergue, Casa Barbadelo. Fortunately, they not only had room, but a private room for 4, with bath. The cost was 20€ per person. Believing there would be 4 of us, Christine reserved the entire room. However, we never encountered Stephanie the rest of that day.

Casa Barbadelo had opened in 2011 and was more like a resort than a typical Albergue. A swimming pool was even under construction. The three of us enjoyed the well-appointed bar and restaurant. Best of all, Kris and I were able to change out of our soaked clothes and into dry ones.

The three of us found that we enjoyed each other’s company so much that without a word spoken it was just assumed that we would continue on to Santiago together.

Eight years later and the strength and depth of that friendship remains unabated. Kris and her husband, Dennis, were frequent visitors to our home in Kansas City, and we to their home in Colorado.

In the years that followed Kris’ 2013 Camino (her first), she became a “Peregrino’s Peregrino”. She has walked 10 Caminos, 7 which she organized and led for groups from Colorado. She has also acted as a volunteer Hospitalero. Kris joined us in piloting a canal boat in England and Wales (2019) and spent time staying with us hiking in Colorado just days before I sat down to type this post.

Tragically, Dennis fell to his death in a 2018 hiking accident while he and Kris were in Scotland.

There are many gifts of the Camino. Perhaps the greatest among them are the enduring friendships.

Peace Everyone. And of course, Buen Camino! Pete

PS. Antonio Bello, “The Alchemist”, suffered a heart attack a few years after our 2013 visit. His son, Armiche, moved in to help his disabled father, and also learn the art of “alchemy” from the master. In the few years that followed, father and son sought out minerals of various kinds, colors, and composition. As Antonio had done for decades, Armiche pounded and pulverized the minerals, creating paints and applications, transforming the raw materials into beautiful artistic creations. Armiche, the “New Alchemist”, is also sought out for his talents in the areas of guided meditation and alternative medicine. Antonio passed away in January of 2019.

 

 

May 12-13, 2013. Ponferrada to Villafranca del Bierzo and Vega de Valcarce.

 May 12^th was a largely unremarkable day on the Camino. Perhaps that statement is a bit of an oxymoron. By definition any day on the Camino is remarkable when one considers the undertaking and uniqueness of the experience as a whole.

24 km with little change in elevation ahead, we left Ponferrada with the Castillo de los Templarios illuminated by the first rays of the morning sun. Distinctive Camino waymarks guided our path through and out of this city of 62,000.

We walked by vineyards well into their Spring growth,

and of course there were the occasional monuments to St. James the Pilgrim.

13km along our route we entered the town of Cacabelos (pop. 5,000) where the belltower of the 16^th Century church of Santa Maria provided roosts for enormous storks.

These huge birds seemed to act as sentinels wherever they found a platform for their massive nests. I wondered at the size of these birds and the weight of their nests. The answers: The White Stork (Ciconia ciconia) measures nearly 4 feet, beak to tail, and often has a wingspan of up to 7 feet. They are migratory birds that winter in Africa.

Carnivores, they are known to eat small mammals, reptiles and other birds. As for their nests, they measure up to 5 feet in diameter, can be over 6 feet tall, and often weigh over 500 pounds. Of course, storks do not deliver babies into the hands of parents-to-be. This ancient legend was popularized in the 19^th Century by Hans Christian Anderson’s story, The Storks.

Now back down to earth. A few kilometers later we entered a small wooded area where an artisan had established his own “roost”.

He was expertly carving wooden Camino shells and doing a brisk business with passing pilgrims. We were among his customers.

The coin in the picture is to give a sense of scale.

Continuing, we passed an interesting elevated thatched hut, known as a Palloza. These buildings are characteristic of pre-Roman structures which were once common in this region. (It is also possibly a horreo, for the storage of grain)

Between Cacabelos and Pieros the Camino followed a lightly travelled roadway, crossing the Rio Cua.

Nearing Villafranca del Bierzo we passed what was perhaps the most picturesque vineyard on the entire Camino. What a delight it would have been to spend an afternoon there absorbing the ambiance, a bottomless glass of red in hand.

We arrived in Villafranca del Bierzo in mid-afternoon. This quant village of 5,000 inhabitants is dominated by the 13^th Century Convento de San Francisco,

the 12^th Century Romanesque Church of Santiago,

and the 4 towered 16^th Century Castle of the Marqueses de Villafranca.

The north face of the Church of Santiago features the Puerta del Perdon (“Door of Forgiveness”). One of two such “Doors of Forgiveness” on the Camino, the other being in the Cathedral at Santiago de Compostela.

It is held that a believer who prayerfully walks through the door seeking forgiveness is automatically granted a plenary indulgence, a pardon for all past sins. The doors are only open during Jacobean Holy Years which are years that the 25^th of July falls on a Sunday.

For our night’s lodging we again opted for a hotel rather than an albergue. While we enjoyed the communal experience of an albergue, the moderate price difference of a simple hotel included a private bath and breakfast. We were typically paying 35€ per night for a hotel or casa rural whereas an albergue for the two of us was usually about 14€. By the time we factored in buying breakfasts, the price difference was minimal while the comfort difference was significant. On this occasion we were guests in the decidedly upscale (and at over 50€, more expensive) three star Las Donas del Portazgo. Still a bargain for these two weary pilgrims.

May 13^th.

Our room provided a commanding early morning view of the sights of Villafranca del Bierzo, thanks in part to the telephoto optics of my camera. Refreshed, we were “on the road” shortly after 8 a.m..

The Brierley Guide identified this as the 26^th of 33 “stages” with the destination for the day being O Cebreiro, 30km distant. The suggested “stage” would also include one of the steepest climbs on the Camino. Whether or not I was up for this, Christine was not. We decided that our personal “stage” would end at 19km in the town of Vega de Valcarce. There was another decision to make for the day; whether to hazard the longer but more difficult yet contemplative “Dragonte” or “Pradela” routes, or take the shorter (and much flatter) route that follows the Rio Pereje Valley. Unfortunately, the river valley, though shorter, also tracked along the busy N-VI roadway.

If it had just been me, a hike into the mountains would have been preferable. However, it was not just me. With a nod to Christine we left Villafranca behind us, following the road and river to Vega de Valcarce.

This route was not without its hazards. However, those dangers were more human than nature inspired. We traded the leg and lung taxing climb on a rocky and irregular mountain path for the traffic and noise of the “low road”.

The chosen route presented its own interesting features. A long walk through a traffic tunnel inspired a rush of adrenaline.

A safety barrier granted some measure of physical protection, but the road noise was unabated.

A grocery delivery van featured huge images of octopus tentacles. A mouthwatering delicacy in Spain, not so much in America. I smiled at the thought.

The tiny Iglesia de San Juan Bautista made for a pleasant stop and a moment of reflection in Portela de Valcarce.

Approaching Vega de Valcarce we were struck by the lofty highway overpass that (thankfully) routed most high speed traffic up and over this quiet community.

Our first order of business upon arrival was to secure lodging for the night. Thankfully, that proved an easy task. Las Rocas, a Casa Rural, was clean, pleasant, and featured a balcony overlooking the river. It would be more than sufficient.

The town featured a fair amount of commerce, and some unusual art in the form of a frightful giant carved from the stump of a tree. Behind the statue stood another elevated Palloza. (It is also possibly a horreo, for the storage of grain)

As we wandered through the small town (pop. 600) I happened to see a barbershop. It had been over 6 weeks since my last haircut and I was long overdue. One would not typically consider entering a barbershop as a risk endeavor, however the language barrier presented some challenges. Christine remained dubious as we entered the shop.

The barber spoke no English, and I virtually no Spanish. Nevertheless I was able to gesture my tonsorial intentions. I have often said that I can fluently point in over 27 languages. In turn, the barber was able to share that it was his 65^th birthday. He also made it known that he was happily married and blessed with 5 grandchildren. With practiced expertise he set about to exercise his craft.

There are a few haircuts that stand prominent in my memory. I recall the first time that I was not asked by the barber to sit on a booster seat. I remember as a rite of passage the first time my father had to pay full price for my mid-1960’s crewcut, and the first time that a barber applied hot lather around my ears and neck before finishing the job with a straight razor trim. Sadly, that bit of pampering seems to have gone the way of such hair “tonics” as Hask, Vitalis, and Brylcreem (“A little dab will do ya!”)

One of the most memorable haircuts I ever had occurred in 2010 in Smith Center, Kansas. That “Nine Dollar Haircut” was the subject of a well-received essay written in 2018.

I don’t recall what my Spanish haircut cost, but the gentleman’s skill was obvious. He finished the job by sculpting with a rock steady hand and a gleaming straight razor, another skill that seems to have disappeared in America.

This was another haircut that will live long in the pantheon of my treasured memories.

All that I needed to do to cap a near perfect day was return with Christine to that balcony overlooking the river and pour another glass of wine. Life is good.

Peace Everyone, and Buen Camino! Pete