May 28-31, 2013. Barcelona.

When did our Camino begin? Was it in 2011 as we exited a movie theater, inspired by the characters in “The Way”? Perhaps the beginning evolved during our discussions over the following year. More concrete: Maybe it was when we began buying our packs, hiking boots, and of course our “sporks”.

When we made airline reservations, was that the start? Or was it at Mass in Kansas City on April 5, 2013 when Father Bill and the congregation of St. Francis Xavier Church bid us farewell and the priest entered the first “sello” in our pilgrim credencials.

Any of these may have been the start of the emotional Camino. I believe that the physical Camino began when we landed in Barcelona, Spain on April 8, 2013.

When did our Camino end? Emotionally, as these hundreds of pages attest, it hasn’t. It could be said that our physical Camino ended with our arrival in Santiago on May 22^nd.  However, part of the experience of our Camino was embracing the broader magic of Spain.  That alchemy continued with our return to Barcelona.

May 28^th.

 A pre-dawn taxi transported us to Santiago’s international airport. We were checked in and at the gate by 7 a.m..

The two-hour flight made a mockery of the 6 weeks that it took us to transit that distance by foot. Once on the ground we returned to Ana’s hospitality and the comforts of her centrally located Guesthouse. Kris Ashton also secured a room at Ana’s for the day preceding her return to the States.

Our belongings stowed in our rooms, the three of us proceeded the few blocks on foot to the Sagrada Familia. We had learned from our experience in April that reservations to tour the Basilica were prudent and depending upon the day, necessary. It was a Tuesday, yet the park in front of the church was active with tourists, vendors, and entertainers.

A quick walk around the Sagrada Familia disclosed progress in the construction accomplished over the 6 weeks since we first gazed upon its exterior.

The organic stonework of the Nativity Façade on one side of the Basilica and the linear sculptures on Passion Façade still amazed us with their stark contrast.

The first view of the interior was breathtaking.

These images only hint at majesty of the colorful stone columns that transform into an overhead canopy. It is like an otherworldly forest, everything drawing the eye up in wonder.

We had purchased tickets to climb and tour one of the towers. While somewhat physically challenging, Christine also had to suppress her discomfort with heights in order to enjoy the experience.

It was obvious that we were touring an active construction site.

Beneath the Church were the studios of the architects who work with computers and models to execute the transition from inspiration into reality.

There was also homage paid to the genius of Antoni Gaudi. In the late 19^th and early 20^th Centuries Gaudi did not have the benefit of computers to aid him in creating designs that were founded on his favored elements of circles, ovoids, and parabolas. Instead, he tied strings, weighted with small bags of sand, to give vision to his thoughts. Gravity created the non-linear flows which were reflected in a large mirror underneath the “string-cathedral”. It was from this that Gaudi was able to test and draft his concepts.

I could write an entire post (or two) about the Sagrada Familia. In fact, I did during our 2018 visit to Barcelona which was part of our walk on the Portuguese Camino. Rather than recount the narratives and those many images, here are links to those posts and pictures from 2018:

The Sagrada Familia Basilica | Peter M. Schloss, J.D. (mediationkc.com)

The Sagrada Familia. A Supplement. | Peter M. Schloss, J.D. (mediationkc.com)

That evening we joined Brent, his wife Marilynn, and some of their Barcelona friends for dinner. It was a wonderful sharing with a true “Camino brother”. Sadly, Marilynn passed away on New Year’s Eve 2019. May she rest in peace. Before her passing they had returned to the States from the home they made in Barcelona. Brent now lives in “God’s Country”, otherwise known as Idaho.

May 29^th.

Christine and I resumed our embrace of Barcelona with a fond reunion.

In the 1990’s we had been volunteer representatives for AFS, the foreign exchange student organization. One of the young adults who we had the honor of knowing was Neus Santacana from Barcelona. Over the years we kept in touch with Neus. She joined us for the day and evening as we toured “her city”.

May 30^th.

When we flew back into Barcelona from Santiago we saw mountains near the city that seemed to rise from the surrounding land like shark’s teeth. From the tiny windows of our plane I could also make out buildings that appeared to be built into the cliffs. Upon inquiry we learned that this was the Montserrat (“serrated mountain”) Range, rising over 4,000 feet above sea level.

The buildings were the Santa Maria de Montserrat Benedictine Abbey.

An easily navigated train ride took us 30 miles to the cable car station.

We boarded the 83-year-old conveyance for the dizzying ascent of nearly 4,000 feet to the Monastery.

Founded in the 11^th Century, and rebuilt in the 19^th and 20^th Centuries, the Monastery is world renowned. It is home to over 70 monks, and can now be reached by road, train, or cable car.

There is also a cog railway that took us farther up the mountain to the remains of the ancient Chapel of Sant Joan and ruins of hermitages, some believed to have been inhabited by Sant Joan (John) and Sant Onofre.

The precarious stairs and passages were once the only access to these remote habitations.

Hermits are believed to have lived in these mountains as early as the 6^th Century. Chapels were known to have been established by the 9^th Century, and more formal monastic communities not long after. Monks were held to extremely strict vows beyond those of poverty, obedience, and chastity. Among those requirements were total detachment from the outside world, complete abstinence from meat, arduous regimens of fasting, self-flagellation, and denial of virtually all worldly comforts.

In addition to the grounds, panoramic views, and history, highlights of a visit included witnessing a performance by the Escolania de Montserrat boys’ liturgical choir and seeing the 12^th Century La Moreneta sculpture also known as the Virgin of Montserrat.

The choir is a 700-year-old institution consisting of boys who are educated and boarded at the Monastery. These 50+ boys are between the ages of nine and fourteen and perform each Monday thru Saturday at 1 p.m.. On Sundays and Holidays they perform at noon and again at 6:45 p.m..

By some accounts, the 38-inch Virgin of Montserrat dates to early Christianity. Alleged to have been carved in Jerusalem, legend holds that it was discovered in one of the nearby mountain caves where it had been hidden from marauding Saracens.

More likely it dates to the 12^th Century. For hundreds of years the statue has been venerated by commoners, royalty, popes and saints. On March 25, 1522, St. Ignatius Loyola laid down his weapons and armor before the statue, thus beginning a period of asceticism before later founding the Society of Jesus (The Jesuits).

We returned by train to Barcelona for dinner, packing, and a night spent in sleepless contemplation of tomorrow’s departure for home.

May 31^st.

Our packs were secured in duffle bags for the flight home.

Rare for us, we were traveling first class. This was largely due to an accumulation of frequent flyer miles. The perks included access to the private lounge area, stocked with alcohol and snacks at no additional charge.

Thankfully, we were isolated from the airport crowd until it neared time to board our plane.

The real advantages of first-class seating came in the form of large comfortable seats that fully reclined into sleeping position, and of course liberal servings of adult beverages.

We resisted casting aside our pilgrim identities. Onboard the plane we each continued to wear our shells, and I my beret.

Heading into the clouds with the last views of Barcelona below us, I was well into my second glass of white. I gazed out the window and reflexively pulled out my tiny iPod-Touch. One finger-stroke at a time I began to type, “Tir na nÓg”, “The Land of Eternal Youth”…

Peace Everyone, and Buen Camino. Pete

Next: Epilogue, The Final Chapter

           

           May 22, 2013. Arca O Pino Pedrouzo to Santiago!

We prepare ourselves for the big events of life that we can anticipate; a wedding, births, a new job, retirement, just to name a few. Arrangements are usually thorough with both practical and emotional preparation.

For a pilgrim walking the Camino, there is no event more monumental or anticipated than walking into the grand square and first beholding the majesty of the Santiago Cathedral. How many who have known that experience for the first time have given forethought to the emotional impact. I had not.

At 7 a.m. we were out the door of Pension Maribel and fast on the path to Santiago.

After a few kilometers we encountered an unusual Peregrino. He was tall and sun-darkened in a way that spoke of many days spent in the elements. He also wore clothing that channeled pilgrims of medieval times. He is seen here walking next to Christine.

His staff was decorated with a variety of trinkets, some ornamental and others of a more practical nature, such as a drinking cup. There were prayer flags and even a gourd. We had seen him before and had overheard other pilgrims remark, wondering if he were homeless or perhaps mentally ill.

I walked to his side and quietly asked if he spoke English. In a gruff German laden accent he said “yes”. He also expressed a willingness to slow his pace for a brief visit. He was from Austria and had begun his Camino in Jerusalem. It was a distance of over 5,500km! I calculated that at 25km per day with no rest days he had been no less than 220 days afoot. After an exchange of pleasantries, I asked what he intended to do once he completed his Camino, “I will get on a jet, return to Austria, write more software, and walk another Camino.” The gentleman then resumed his pace, quickly leaving us behind.

Nature abhors a vacuum, and so it is with our species and gaps to our knowledge. We tend to fill those “voids of understanding” with speculation, conjecture, and “stories”. In the case of this gentleman the speculations were perhaps harmless, but it is not always so. Over the course of history some of the “stories” have resulted in great suffering, and even death on a global scale.

We did not see him again. However, in 2018 as we walked the Portuguese route of the Camino I saw his framed and autographed picture hanging on the wall of a small restaurant where we took lunch. I regret that I did not learn more about this most unusual, and possibly famous Peregrino.

A few more kilometers near San Paio we came upon a monument that declared “Santiago” and was embellished with symbols of the Camino.

The trail took us by Santiago’s international airport, Lavacolla, located near the site that medieval pilgrims had traditionally stopped to wash and purify themselves before entering the city.

We merely stopped to refresh ourselves before continuing on.

Soon we began to encounter vendors selling various trinkets and Camino related souvenirs.

The path, now paved with asphalt, was well-marked and becoming increasingly crowded with pilgrims. 

20km separated Arca and the Cathedral. We had not yet reached the half-way point. There were signs of industry and development now interspersed with pleasant country lanes and eucalyptus woods.

A well-marked path lay ahead for us, but there were still the occasional “lost soles”.

At Monte del Gozo (“Mount of Joy”, elev. 1210 ft) we came upon a huge monument commemorating the 1989 visit of Pope John Paul II to the World Youth Day festivities.

The Pontif said Mass on this spot. The sculpture was erected in 1992 but, ravaged by time and the elements, it was removed early in 2021. Only the four large bronze plaques remain (image from the Camino Forum).

Two of the plaques refer to the Pope’s visit, one is dedicated to the 13^th Century visit by Saint Francis of Assisi, and the final plate is an abstract hand with four fingers representing routes on the Camino, joining at the palm and then concluding at Santiago, seen at the end of the thumb. There are no plans to restore the former concrete structure.

It was atop this hill that we first drew sight of Santiago in the distance. For pilgrims this spot was appropriately named “Mount of Joy”.

At this plateau was a huge complex of barracks capable of housing over 500 Peregrinos to alleviate pressure from facilities in the city during holy years and other times of heavy pilgrim traffic. In counterpoint was the tiny Capilla de San Marcos (Chapel of Saint Mark) which was erected in 1965 at the site of an earlier chapel dating to the year 1105. There were also more vendors.

Down the hillside and a long flight of stairs we walked.

Soon we were into the city proper, greeted by the huge 2004 sculpture, Porta Itineris Sancti Iacobi (“Gateway of the Camino”).

This towering structure located in a pleasant park, features 20 bronze plaques honoring famous persons who over the centuries have been associated with the Camino.

On we continued through the heart of the modern city.

45 minutes later we had our first view of the Cathedral towers over the tops of lesser buildings.

In less than 10 minutes we entered the Praza da Inmaculada (Square of the Immaculate). On our right was the Hospederia San Martin Pinario Seminario Mayor where we had reserved a simple room with bath in the attic area set aside for pilgrims.

Portions of the lower floors are a more upscale hotel shared with the Monastery of Saint Martin. The Monastery dates to the 9^th Century and its current building to the late 15^th Century.

Straight ahead and down through the tunnel-like Arco del Obispo (Arch of the Bishop) we were treated to music by a lone bagpiper. We deposited a few coins.

Emerging from the archway we entered the expansive Praza do Obradoiro (The Golden Square). This grand plaza was breathtaking. To our right was the magnificent 5-star Parador Hotel, once a 15^th Century pilgrim hostel.

There were pilgrims everywhere, among them many familiar faces from our days on the Camino. We walked to the front of the Santago Cathedral and as if struck by lightning our emotions exploded.

We cried, we embraced, and we cried some more.

Eventually we regained a semblance of composure. Opening our eyes to the evolving scene around us I became aware of a gentleman standing a polite distance from us. Behind him was a professional looking video crew. He was watching me with a look of concern. We made eye contact and he approached. In excellent but accented English he explained that his crew was filming pilgrims arriving in Santiago for a local news story. He apologized for the intrusion, “…but you are such a lovely couple, and we were wondering if you would mind if we took some video of you? If you will allow me, I would be pleased to take some pictures of you with your camera.”

We did not mind at all.

On July 24, 2013 a Renfe Express train heading into Santiago careened out of control a few kilometers from of the city. The train, capable of speeds in excess of 250kmh had failed to slow for an 80kmh curve. It left the tracks, emergency brakes engaged, at twice that speed. Of the 222 people aboard, including 4 crew, 143 were injured and 79 died. The engineer was tried for negligent homicide and served a 4-year sentence. (picture from BBC News)

Images of the disaster and background information about Santiago received national and international coverage. We soon learned that video of us embracing before the Cathedral was included in the coverage.

We ascended the stairs of the Cathedral and entered. The exterior Baroque facade dates to the 18^th Century, covering Maestro Mateo’s (1100-1150) famed 12^th Century Portico de la Gloria (Door of Glory), and capping the original Romanesque towers. This image of the Portico is from a 19^th Century painting.

At the center of the Portico’s three ancient arches, which were undergoing restoration in 2013, is a column with the image of Saint James at the top.

Over the centuries, millions of pilgrims have placed their hands at the base of the column in veneration of the Saint. A close examination reveals the resulting hand impression left in the granite sculpture. The pillar is now cordoned off in order to preserve the stone from further deterioration.

I was still wearing my pack as we entered and walked down the main aisle. In the distance was the golden main altar, and above it hung the fabled Botafumeiro.

This massive silver “thurible” (censer) is believed the largest of its kind in the world. Crafted by a goldsmith from brass alloy and plated with silver, it stands over 5 feet tall and weighs 124 pounds when filled with just under 2 pounds of charcoal and incense. (Measurements are from a unique 1983 study of the Botafumeiro that was authorized by the Cathedral.) A mass of incense is then poured atop the lit charcoal. The Botafumeiro is next hoisted upward by at least 8 robed attendants who set the massive smoking censer into a swinging motion. The arc soon travels high overhead, from near the top of one transept to the other, achieving a speed of over 50 miles per hour. This image is from May 23^rd.

Above the altar is the visage of Santiago in glory. A passage below gives access to his crypt and reliquary. Another set of steps lead up to a small chamber behind the statue of Santiago. Here the devout may embrace “the Saint” and peer out over his shoulder into the main aisle of the Cathedral. We would visit those features another day.

Some outside of the Catholic Church criticize as idolatry the “worship” of statues by the faithful and members of other religions with rich artistic traditions. It was explained to me that the images and relics are not the subject of worship, but rather symbols of focus to aid the believer in achieving greater attention to prayerful and meditative thought.

We left the Cathedral bound for the Pilgrim Office in order to present our credencials as proof that we had earned the right to each receive our Compostela. It was another occasion that brought tears.

That accomplished, we checked in at the Hospederia San Martin Pinario and took a few moments to relax and unpack in our simple but spotless room atop the monastery.

At 4 p.m. we returned to the Cathedral’s main square, drawn to continue the experience of our arrival. At center was the Cathedral.

To the left the Parador, known as the Hostal dos Reis Catolicos and originally built in 1499 as a pilgrim hospital. It is considered to be the oldest hotel in the world. (Wikipedia image)

To the right is the College of St. Jerome, founded in 1501. (Wikipedia image)

Behind us were municipal offices and the Neo-Classical designed Town Hall. We would return there after dark for some traditional outdoor entertainment. This picture is from our 2018 Camino.

There were more familiar faces from our days on the Camino. A wave of the hand here, a nod there, and then… Kris Ashton!

We joined together in a long group hug followed by pictures of Kris, Christine, and Marshmallow in front of the Cathedral.

The three of us proceeded to the Pilgrim Office where Kris obtained her Compostela, and then we retired to a small tapas bar for wine and an opportunity to “process” all that we had each experienced over the past 24 hours.

The reflections went much deeper than that. We spoke of dear people who we had met, knowing we would never see them again. I specifically mentioned Roberto Del Pino Guzman, originally from Spain but a citizen of the UK for most of his life. Over 4 weeks ago Roberto and I, along with his Brit friend John, spent part of a day walking together to Villamayor de Monjardin.

We shared our personal stories, and I felt a connection with Roberto. But for geography I believe that we would have been close friends. I had barely paused my recounting of this to the women when into the bar walked Roberto! We mirrored each other’s looks of shock and wonder.

Roberto told us that he had sought a safe place to keep his bag for the afternoon. The bartender agreed to secure the pack which allowed Roberto to do some final sightseeing before meeting a friend and traveling on to Portugal. Returning to the bar he was minutes from that departure. I am again reminded of the words of Eddie, our 2018 hotelier in Puerto Rico, (who had also walked the Camino!) “Peter, in life there are no coincidences.”

Saying farewell to Roberto we continued reminiscing. Kris then invited us to join her and other Camino friends, including Mary and Les Virtue, to her room at the Parador.

Kris’s husband Dennis had reserved nights for her in that amazing hotel. Palatial only begins to describe the accommodations.

A single night’s lodging there easily cost more than all of the nights Kris spent in albergues, casa rurales, and small inns over the course of her entire Camino.

As night fell we returned to the Praza do Obradoiro where the west facing Cathedral was bathed in the golden glow of a setting Sun, a Saint holding the rising Moon in the palm of his hand.

Peace Everyone, and Buen Camino. Pete

PS. At 10 p.m. we were drawn to the sound of guitars and male voices raised in song. Beneath the arches of the municipal building was an assembly of men in rich attire. This was a “Tuna”, and the members individually known as “Tuno”.

Originating in 13^th Century Spain and Portugal, these were groups of university students who gathered to serenade for the coins that provided them with the funds to buy food and continue their educations. Today the men are more a fraternal group, joining for the fun of continuing a centuries old tradition. They play traditional instruments and wear garb similar to that worn by university students in the 16^th and 17^th Centuries. The patches on their capes are collected from towns and countries that they have each visited.

I enjoyed a very unique experience with a Tuna in 2018 which was memorialized in a video. If you choose to watch pay special attention to what unfolds at 1 minute 45 seconds into the video. Here is the link: “Pete and the Santiago Tuna”, or just “click” the picture.

           

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