Peebeecat

Primitivo, days 13 to 14 – Santiago de Compostela & Camino reflections

It was remiss of me not to mention Lugo in my last update, the most amazing walled city and UNESCO World Heritage Site and we stopped there overnight. We spent a chilled evening wandering around the town and in the morning, the others walked ahead and I stayed back for a few hours and circled the perimeter of the 2km wall, marvelling at the ingenuity of the Romans all those centuries ago. Apparently it’s twinned with the Great Wall of China!

The final 3 days commenced on the Primitivo, a small tributary relative to the mighty Frances it feeds into, with its hordes of peregrinos and vast Camino infrastructure. Yet despite the 10-fold volume of people, it was still possible to find solitude and the route was no less beautiful.

And now, 14 days after leaving Oviedo, I’ve arrived in Santiago de Compostela. Or rather, the Trinity (33.33% Holy) of myself, Jean Max and Giovanni have arrived in Santiago. It was no less emotional the second time for me, and especially wonderful to see the sheer joy on Giovanni’s face as we approached the Praza do Obradoiro, the square that faces the cathedral. For Jean Max, it was an opportunity to fully appreciate the special moment of completion, which he was unable to do when he entered the city in 2015, suffering from horrendous blisters.

So what is it about the Camino that attracts 3 so very different people to each other, with whom you share confidences that you’d struggle to impart to your closest friends? There is no doubt in my mind that we were drawn to each other for a purpose; it was no co-incidence. Yet how is it that that a psychiatrist, a financial planner and a soon-to-be-ordained monk can be blessed with such a strong mutual bond and friendship over 2 weeks and 350 kms of walking the remote highways and byways in a strange country, with not one cross word, moment of angst or anything other than the unbridled pleasure of each other’s company?

For certain the Camino is a great leveller, where our differences fade into insignificance and our similarities come to the fore. We do not enter this world as angry, miserable, stressed or unhappy souls. Those traits come about through our conditioning in childhood, and later through our professional lives and exposure to our peers. The Camino strips us back to basics; to the people we really are, with all the crap left behind. The Camino shows me that fundamentally, nothing is more powerful than the collective human spirit and if suitably nourished and sustained, there remains considerable hope for the future of humanity.

On a personal basis, the Camino has taken me out of my comfort zone and made me look inwards and examine my own fears and insecurities. It has given me a greater sense of self-awareness and confidence, out of which has emerged an open-mindedness and a willingness to take more risks.

Life teaches us certain survival skills. Mine was to build a castle around me, a defence against attackers, a safe place to retreat into when challenged. It served me well in the past, but I decided it is no longer needed, so I offered it a grateful “Thank you and farewell” and left it behind. I found myself asking the bigger question, about what’s of real value and importance in my life.

And on the day that I left the others and walked alone, with the beautiful, tranquil views and wide open spaces around me, and with my new found sense of freedom, I opened my arms to the Universe and received the answer… the direction my life needs to take to allow me to fulfil my true purpose and destiny. It comes with a sense of certainty and inevitability….. The fun starts right now!

For others, the journey is different, but no less important. Jean Max wrote in his diary of the day on the Camino ‘when he was no more’ – he was ‘absent’. He was feeling so immersed in the Camino that he and the Camino became one and the same thing. He’s promised to send me that particular extract of his diary, as it felt there was huge significance in those paragraphs for him, and he was keen to share his feelings, but sadly my limited French doesn’t do true justice to his more expansive explanation.

For Giovanni, it was his ‘Walk of Courage’, and I know that he will return to Naples inspired to assist the young who are struggling to find real purpose in their lives.

They both unwittingly proved to be my guides and teachers. Jean Max showed me how to relax, to let go and go forward with confidence, to simply trust in what will be. Giovanni revealed enormous amounts of personal courage in making huge changes to his life that will give it even greater purpose whilst benefiting others… and through him I can now differentiate the sounds of the wind in the trees!!

Now back in England, missing the Camino and my Camino friends and reflecting on my personal journey, it cannot be better summed up than through the beautiful and apt words of David Whyte’s poem Finisterre:

“The road in the end taking the path the sun had taken,
into the western sea, and the moon rising behind you
as you stood where ground turned to ocean: no way
to your future now but the way your shadow could take,
walking before you across water, going where shadows go,
no way to make sense of a world that wouldn’t let you pass
except to call and end to the way you had come,
to take out each frayed letter you brought
and light their illumined corners, and to read
them as they drifted through the western light;
to empty your bags; to sort this and to leave that;
to promise what you needed to promise all along,
and to abandon the shoes that had brought you here
right at the water’s edge, not because you had given up
but because now, you would find a different way to tread,
and because, through it all, part of you could still walk on,
no matter how, over the waves.”

Until the next time… ‘Ultreia‘ fellow pilgrims!

Primitivo, days 9 to 12 – simply ‘being’

Jean Max calls them ‘Events‘, cameo moments that arrive out of nothing, which create a memory much greater than the event itself. There have been quite a few of these, such as the elderly lady in the 1950’s style café who insisted on guiding me onto the correct path; Casa Herminia cooking our freshly picked girolles; the old farmer wearing traditional albarcas (clogs) to avoid the mud.

‘Events‘ always occur when least expected. We didn’t think anything could follow the beauty of the previous day’s walk up the Hospitales route, but the weather system today created a special kind of magic that took our breath away.

We were not so high, but below us and surrounding us was a layer of thick cloud with occasional treetops peering through, giving the appearance of a tempestuous, rocky sea..

For me, that was an ‘Event‘…. As was the moment we walked bleary-eyed into the small town of Castro Verde the next morning in desperate need of the day’s first coffee. Any mention in a café’s title of ‘Peregrino’ or similar sounds rather touristy, so we walked straight past the ‘Café Camino’.

Fortunately, down a side road was a locals’ café. Jean Max and I walked in… heads turned and one man asked where we were from. Once he’d established there was an Italian with us he was very keen to be introduced to Giovanni, who was dragged inside by the local man who had worked in Italy 45 years ago. We were then made to feel very welcome and when it came to pay our bill, the waitress told us it had already been dealt with, courtesy of our new friend, who just wanted to practice his Italian on Giovanni. A small moment perhaps, but it really set us up for the day.

Every day, the scenery seems to surpass itself, or maybe it’s just me becoming more attuned to the surroundings. Either way, it’s magnificent and makes my heart sing, literally at times with my Brothers in Arms.

“The road is long, with many a winding turn, That leads us to who knows where…who knows where….. But I’m strong, strong enough to carry him, He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother”

At last, after 11 days of glorious weather, it finally rained. Only for a couple of hours, but enough to draw out the wonderful aromas of the forest. Walking through the eucalyptus trees was like taking a steam vapour bath to clear my airways, it was that strong!

I’d never before properly listened to the sound of the wind in the trees. Of course I’ve heard it countless times, but am now listening to it in an entirely different way. Giovanni explained how his blind grandfather knew exactly where he was in the woods by the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. Except, as I now know, it doesn’t always rustle… for example, the wind blowing through pine trees sounds just like the sea… Every tree has its unique sound!

This Camino is no longer about ‘thinking’… it’s about ‘feeling and ‘being’ – a different state of consciousness altogether. My awareness, my senses and my spiritual connection with the universe are all heightened. It’s not easy to explain, as everybody is at a different stage on their own personal journey… it just so happens that mine is being fast tracked – and it’s a very comfortable state to be in!

Primitivo Days 6 to 8 – An Englishman, an Italian and a Frenchman…

Our common language was English, which Jean Max and I speak passably well. However, Giovanni, who’s become an important third of our indomitable trio, speaks some English but much better French, so we now converse primarily in French…Giovanni’s French is better than mine and Jean Max has stopped speaking so slowly for my benefit… It’s great practice, even if I miss half the conversation!

Giovanni has added a wonderful extra element to our Camino… He’s a delightful, kind and gentle soul, in the process of making some enormous changes in his life.

Following a number of ups and downs in his personal life, he has taken a vow of celibacy and is following Orders to become a Franciscan Monk. I just love his company, a man at peace with himself and his maker.

He has found his place on this earth, helping young adults with dependency issues recognise that there can be another way to live their lives – not just by pushing his faith, but using examples such as walking the Camino – the spiritual fulfilment it provides.

He describes his Camino as a ‘Walk of Courage’ and has taken countless photos and keeps a journal, which he will be turning into a presentation for his Association when he returns to Italy. It would be wrong and probably inaccurate for me to comment further on his mission, but it’s wonderful to also see the Camino through his eyes… Sort of 20:20:20 vision.

And as Jean Max says… “If an Italian doesn’t sing, he’s not an Italian”. By this measure, Giovanni is undoubtedly Italian and will occasionally break into an aria from La Traviata and other operas. Yesterday we became the 3 tenors with our rendition of Nessun Dorma, sung at the top of our voices somewhere along a high mountain ridge… Strangely, all the other peregrinos were keeping their distance, we didn’t care anyway!

We’d awoken expectantly following our night with the Spanish crowd at Casa Herminia, and were rewarded with a most beautiful, calm morning. We knew immediately that we’d be walking the high ‘Hospitales’ route, and after coffee and toast set off in the mist for the day’s adventures.

After a few kilometres, we reached the point where the route split. I took the decision to walk the lower section for a while before climbing to meet the others. There was definitely something in the air that day… my senses were extraordinarily heightened in the quiet and beauty of my surroundings and the true reason for walking the Primitivo at this time was becoming ever clearer😊!

I attempted to make my way up the hill to join the others on a higher path but was not sure of the exact route so found a tiny cafe, which doubled as the local supermarket… It was like going back 50 years in time and the charming elderly lady owner made me a coffee the traditional way on the stove, half for me and half for her, before escorting me several hundred metres up the road to make sure I didn’t get any more lost!

After an hour or so I could see Giovanni in the distance and then Jean Max, with his unmistakeable ‘legendary’ 40yr old rucksack. We were so lucky to have found the most glorious day to be taking the infamous Hospitales route after yesterday’s dullness.

We stopped at the top for a snack with our new Spanish friends before continuing for 10kms along the undulating ridge. It was spectacular and without question lived up to its billing.

We ate our lunch in the warm afternoon sunshine and hadn’t appreciated how late it was getting as we stepped gingerly down the gravelly path, losing height rapidly.

The less said about our accommodation that night the better… Let’s charitably call it ‘rustic’. We knew we weren’t going to eat there when Jean Max picked up a menu coated in thick grime… The multitude of flies didn’t exactly encourage us either, but at least the sheets seemed clean and I’m not itching or scratching… yet!

The drought over much of Southern Europe this year resulted in many serious forest fires and our next day’s route was diverted and extended as a consequence. It’s remarkable how nature fights back; even as we walked through the blackened landscape there was plenty of evidence of new life forming.

The most spectacular sight this day was undoubtedly the huge hydroelectric dam near Grandas de Salime, which we walked across and admired from both sides. It was finished in 1954 but cost the lives of several hundred workers during its construction. The remains of the workers houses can still be seen and give the place quite an eerie feel.

We have now crossed from Asturias into Galicia and a line of stones and a small plaque marks the border between the regions. My guide book warns that the first cafe we come across in Galicia has a reputation of charging more to non locals, so I checked the price first and all was fine.

A German female peregino we refer to as ‘les jambes’ (guess why!) had her bottle filled from the tap, but when Giovanni asked for the same a few minutes later, he was told the tap water was not drinkable and he must spend €1.50 on a small bottle of mineral water. It appears the owner has his own moral code… No scruples in ripping off scruffy, middle age hombres, but pleased to serve gratuito tall, leggy, blondes…

This poor experience was quickly countered by the next café we stopped at, after a horrible long, steep and unexpected climb in the heat. Not only were the drinks very cheap, the smiley owner kept appearing with trays of freshly prepared pinchos for us… I could have stayed there all day!

We’ve now covered more than half our Camino. It’s been blissful, and right now I feel that I could walk forever.

“The road seen, then not seen, the hillside hiding then revealing the way you should take, the road dropping away from you as if leaving you to walk on thin air, then catching you, and holding you up, when you thought you would fall, and the way forward always in the end the way that you followed, the way that carried you into your future, that brought you to this place, no matter that it sometimes took your promise from you, no matter that it had to break your heart along the way: the sense of having walked from far inside yourself out into the revelation, to have risked yourself for something that seemed to stand both inside you and far beyond you, that called you back to the only road in the end you could follow, walking as you did, in your rags of love…”

Primitivo Days 3 to 5 – mud & mushrooms

We left Grado after a quick café con leché stop and ascended to El Fresno, a place of no real note other than it was the highest point we’d reach all day. The scenery yet again is stunning; so far much of the trail has been on tracks and paths rather than roads, which is a total delight.

The mix of pilgrims appears different to last year. On the Norté there was a wide range of nations. This year it seems that everyone we meet is Spanish. They are friendly enough despite my atrocious Spanish, although I feel a greater sense of camaraderie when mixing with other overseas pilgrims and that spirit seems to be missing in the first couple of days.

So it was a small but welcome pleasure to come across John and Don at a small bar on the way to Salas. John is 70 from USA, looks super fit, is super cool and on his 5th Camino. Don, 68, from Canada is on his 15th Camino… Yes, 15th! He manages perfectly well with half his left arm missing from his elbow.

They started in San Sebastian and were having a lot of trouble finding accommodation in albergues, sometimes turning up before they were open only to find the queue waiting outside exceeded the number of available beds.

That didn’t augur well for our night in Salas as there were so many people on the trails, so I suggested to Jean Max that I should phone and try to book ahead. “I completely understand if you want to do that” he responded “but I think I’ll carry on and see what’s available when I get there”.

“You’re so right” I exclaimed, and of course he was. This was me wanting to be in control of every aspect of my life. And I’m finding that taking a risk and just waiting to see what comes up is surprisingly liberating! So that’s what we did.

And yes, as soon as we arrived in Salas we were met by a friendly hospitalero at a brand new 20 bed private albergue, who was very happy to see us. Only one bed had been taken so far… So much for my fears!

She made us coffee and settled us in then we went off to explore the town and grab a late lunch. Cafe Pachon was buzzing with locals tucking into huge plates of bean stew and meat dishes. We looked on enviously and the waiter welcomed us in… 5 enormous courses later plus a couple of carafes of wine, we waddled out. Amazingly this was all for €10.

This beautiful flower carries a lot of symbolism. The ‘passion’ is the passion of Christ. The 10 outer petals represent the 10 faithful apostles at the time, the pink spindles – the crown of thorns, the 5 petals above that represent the 5 wounds, and the top 3 are the 3 nails. Thank you wiki.

Salas is a pretty, mediaeval town and we just about managed to haul ourselves along the path by the river to view a little more of the town before retiring early in the albergue. An early night meant an early start and by 6:15 we were on the road. – no breakfast needed!

We left town in the dark, having been warned that the path to Tineo was very muddy… Fortunately it was light by the time we reached it as it also proved to be a very long cow track, in parts a cloying mixture of mud and cow sh*t that couldn’t be avoided. At every stream we’d wash our boots, only for them to be re-coated after a few more metres. And so it went on for several tiring kilometres…

We passed an elderly farmer carrying fodder for his sheep. He was wearing traditional Cantabrian albarcas – clogs with 3 short stilts or tarugos, ideally suited for the muck we were walking through.

Our destination, Tineo, is not a town to remember, other then the hotel that Jean Max and I elected to stay in, in preference to an albergue… It had started to rain and after the morning’s mudfest we elected for a little luxury and enjoyed some free time in our spacious individual rooms.

I can’t explain exactly why, but the following day felt like a transformation point.. from the moment we climbed out of Tineo, it was a different world, both physically and spiritually. Perhaps it was the atmospheric morning mist and the calm trails. Certainly, Jean Max has more of a spring in his step and that can be related directly to his joy at finding girolles along the side of the trail in the damp woods.

His enthusiasm filtered across to me as we scoured the banks for those elusive orange mushrooms. We collected enough for a tasty hors d’oeuvre and hoped we could find somewhere that would allow us to cook them.

We arrived around lunch time in the tiny hamlet of Campiello and over a coffee wondered whether to move on or remain. My preference was to stay here overnight as the weather report for the next day was excellent, which meant we could potentially walk the recommended ‘Hospitales‘ high route that is considered too dangerous on a cloudy day.

Leaving now meant we had no choice but to take the lower route. This was the only section of the Primitivo I was determined to walk if at all possible when planning the trip back in the UK so was delighted this was also Jean Max’s preference. We crossed the road to the Casa Herminia and there came across the redoubtable Herminia herself, very much larger than life and without question the local matriarch.. The café, farm and albergue in this one stop hamlet all carry her marque!

She is a delightful lady however and signed our credencials with a personal message. She looked at me intensely before writing mine and her words hit quite a chord with me

“May the Camino come to meet you and may God carry you in the palm of his hand”

She also offered to cook the girolles for us as a mid-afternoon snack. We returned from the albergue and they were there prepared for us. “Beautifully cooked, but a little too much garlic” commented Jean Max
The peregrinos table in the evening was all Spanish except for me, Jean Max and an Italian, Giovanni who was walking solo.

The Spanish were a great crowd and thought it hilarious when I brought out the voice translation app. We’ve had fun ever since whenever our paths crossed in the forthcoming days.

The two of us are now the 3 Amigos, with the addition of Giovanni who we persuaded to walk the ‘Hospitales’ route with us the next day. And what a day that was….

Camino Primitivo – days 1 – 2

The plane landed 10 minutes early at Asturias Airport. I grabbed my bag off the conveyor belt before making an uncivilised dash to the coach station outside. By good fortune I caught the early bus, saving a 2 hour wait. It was raining, but I didn’t care… It all felt good.

On alighting at Oviedo around 9:30pm, it soon became apparent that something was going on in the town as I made my way to the hotel. The receptionist confirmed that it was the festival of St. Michael so I decided to check it out, guided by the loud music coming from the old town.

Oviedo feeels special. Many of the town’s buildings were lit up and looking stunning at night, including the cathedral that I stumbled across, adjacent to a Plaza where a Spanish rock band were playing to a large and adoring audience. After purchasing a beer and chorizo bocodillo at a nearby pop-up bar, I returned to the hotel for a well needed sleep.

The next morning I was determined to make an early start, so crossed the town in the gloom to the municipal albergue to get that important 1st stamp on my ‘Credencial‘ – the pilgrim’s passport. The albergue’s large wooden entrance door was locked, but whilst staring at it wondering what to do next, a pilgrim exited and allowed me through, only to find reception was shut. So no stamp and revert to Plan ‘B’ – to the Cathedral.

I was about to ask a local looking man for directions, when he asked me in English with a strong French accent, where he could get his own Credencial stamped, as the Cathedral was shut!

And that was how I came across Jean Max, my new Camino companion. We decided to check out the tourist office as they also stamp Credencials, but it too was closed, so I offered to buy him a coffee at the café opposite whilst we waited for it to open, and we exchanged brief histories.

I found out that he is a 69 yr old retired psychiatrist, a widower of 6 years, and this was his 2nd Camino. Over successive days we learned a lot more about each other!

I immediately took to Jean Max. He has no smart phone and no camera, just some pages of a Spanish guide book. “So where are you staying tonight?” I asked. He didn’t know, he had no real plan.. he just walks until deciding it’s time to stop!

So that’s what we did, although not until getting stamps from the bar, the tourist office, the cathedral and for good luck.. the monastery behind the cathedral!

Once out of town, the route was quite undulating and tough, but immensely rewarding with some stunning vistas. We targeted Grado as our stop for the night as it had a municipal albergue, but we’d heard from other pilgrims on the trail that it was likely to be full, and we were running late already.

My plan for the day was thus already blown… I was 3 hrs behind schedule, had nowhere to stay, the next albergue was isolated and a further 4km away and also likely to be full…. I’d lost total control of my day.

Last year it would have been a cause for panic, and even now I was a little uncertain, but Jean Max’s relaxed approach and belief that everything would be alright in the end made me realise the futility of worrying about something that may not even happen. That was quite an awakening.

And of course it was fine… Walking into Grado, I noticed a small advert in a shop window offering beds for pilgrims. The lady inside the shop made a phone call and directed us up the street to be met by a man who led us to the 2nd floor of an apartment block and a twin room with shared bathroom. For €10 in cash, I was not complaining.

We walked down into town and sat at a cafe in the plaza chatting over a couple of drinks before going to the restaurant Jean Max was recommended by a lady working in the pharmacy, who I’m sure took a shine to him.. In any event, it was a good choice and we ate well.

There was no question in my mind that Jean Max and I had crossed each others paths for a reason, and as the days unfold, it has become even more apparent that we are meant to be sharing this journey together.

2017 Camino update – To the End of the World (and back again!)

It’s been almost a year… Reaching Santiago proved not to be the end of the journey. In fact, one year on, I realise it was just the beginning.

Recalling the final days of 2016’s Camino…. We spent 2 days in Santiago, absorbing the atmosphere and the enormity of our achievement, then it felt time to move on. But where to? My feet had long since forgiven me for the abuse they’d received, the blisters were now hard callouses, and my flight was not for another 4 days. There was only one possible destination, Finisterre, which the Romans believed to be the end of the world. It sounded suitably remote and bleak, an ideal place to end my adventure

Leaving Santiago with Jannik, I immediately felt free again, totally at one with the pack on my back and happier than ever that our adventure had not yet finished. The route was well defined, but without the army of peregrinos who marched with us along the crowded and markedly more commercial French Way for the final 40 kms into Santiago.

We arrived after 3 days to meet again with our beautiful Camino family, Liz, Susan, Shimmie, Leo, Max and Anton. The last stretch to the famous lighthouse was in atrocious wet and windy conditions. I walked alone the final path, precariously down the slippery rocks towards the raging sea, and released the remainder of my brother Pete’s ashes to the wind. My mission was complete… It really was the end of the world and the end of a most amazing pilgrimage.

Fast forward one year to Sept. 2017…
…. And here I am… Sitting in a bus at Asturias Airport, awaiting departure to Ovieda, tonight’s staging post for the start of another Camino – the Primitivo. Last year at the same stage I was nervous and apprehensive about what lay ahead, and found it quite difficult to articulate, even to myself, why I was walking a Camino.

Today, I feel the same sense of anticipation and excitement, but the journey holds no fear. It’s been a year of some highs and one or two lows but right now I feel a much greater sense of purpose and a feeling that the remoteness of the Primitivo will lead to an even greater awakening than the Norte provided in 2016.

This morning I was told that a close business associate has developed a life-limiting condition at a very young age, only hours after I’d heard a very similar story from a close friend. Life is so very precious and we each have a responsibility to make the best of it and find our true purpose… So here we go..!

Day 31 – Santiago de Compostela

Santiago de Compostela!! Where to begin? The easy part is to confirm we’ve made it, in fact Jannik and I arrived yesterday, but it was way too emotional an experience to put anything into words that wouldn’t have sounded complete psychobabble!

The walk through the modern outskirts of town seemed to take forever, but at last we turned the corner into the plaza and the cathedral rose majestically in front of us. We hugged and congratulated each other – there’s a lot of hugging on the Camino!

“What have we done?” I asked him. ” I don’t know” he responded, before softly repeating the same words. But whatever it is, it feels rather special.

Some more recent Camino friends Carmen and Alex turned up in the afternoon as did Johann, a young German guy that we’d not seen for 3 weeks. He had sprinted ahead of his group to catch an earlier flight to surprise his mother for her birthday.

We spent a couple of hours just lying on the ground in the plaza in the warm sunshine looking around and up at the cathedral, trying to take everything in. We heard some cheering nearby and looked across to see a young pilgrim propose to his girlfriend on bended knee. She accepted, they kissed and hugged and a ripple of applause grew to a crescendo as the hundreds of people congregating in the plaza recognised the occasion. What a Camino they were having.

We attended the Pilgrims mass at 7:30pm, the cathedral was completely packed. The nun leading the singing had the most beautiful crystal voice and the Botafumeiro or swinging of the incense was incredibly impressive. There was an announcement that mobile phone camera must not be used, but just about everybody took theirs out and filmed this part of the ceremony. Including yours truly, I’m ashamed to say.

Although mass is held primarily for Catholic pilgrims to give thanks to God for helping them achieve their goal, anybody is free to attend and I found myself appreciating all the non-pilgrim Catholics in attendance for supporting us.

The next morning we collected our Compostelas – the certificates proving our pilgrimage, and returned to the main plaza to look out for people we knew. Leo was already there absorbing the moment and there followed the mandatory hugging and photos. Some time later, Liz, Susan and Shimmy entered the plaza. They were holding hands and sharing the moment. At a distance we could see them wipe away tears as they hugged each other and we left them to enjoy their own personal moment of arrival.

Shortly after they joined us… Yes, more hugging, and they too sat for ages taking in the enormity of their adventure in front of the glorious cathedral. After a time, it all starts to fit into place, but no two peregrinos Caminos are ever the same. The common thread is simply that we’ve all done it and feel a huge sense of achievement, but I cannot begin to suggest the emotions that are going through the others.Later in the day I returned to the cathedral and lit a candle for Pete and Fong and prayed for the sick mother of Scirocco, the owner of a small hotel we stayed at, who asked me to pray for her when I reached Santiago. How likely it is that the prayers of an atheist will be answered I’m not sure, but perhaps God will turn a blind eye on this one occasion.

We’d been recommended a smart hotel for Saturday night that had one floor devoted to pilgrims. If fellow guests inadvertently took the lift to the 4th floor they’d have thought they’d stepped into the servants quarters. Our rooms were very simple with no adornments, but clean and with a basic but functional en-suite. Best of all though, they were single rooms, not twins or dormitories! And cheap to boot, probably 25% of what the guests in the lowers floors were paying. We all ate breakfast in the same room, although the giveaway is that pilgrims eat as much as possible and probably appear extremely greedy… I think of food as little more than fuel at present, mentally calculating how long it will be before needing the next snack!

What has the Camino achieved for me? I honestly don’t know, other than I feel re-energised after sharing an amazing adventure with the most wonderful bunch of people for the last month or so. I’ve never experienced such a prolonged period of goodwill, affection, kindness and generosity of spirit as from my fellow peregrinos, and not forgetting the local peoples of the Basque Country, Cantabria, Asturia and Galicia, who enhanced the adventure with their consistently warm welcome. At least 20 or 30 times a day I’ve been wished a ‘Buen Camino’.

There have been terrific highs and some awful lows, but I’m sure the blister days will become blurred over time. The Camino takes from you, yet the Camino always provides.

Not for one moment have I missed my former life, equally there are absolutely no regrets about leaving the Camino and returning to the real world, although this world feels pretty real right now. The only sadness is the natural disbursement of our Camino family, not for the Camino itself. So many pilgrims are on their 3rd, 4th or even 5th Camino. It has that inexplicable draw and I know this will not be my last.

I would recommend it to anyone and everyone. A single person would be amongst friends from the first day. For someone feeling a tad lonely, that is not possible on the Camino, although the time needed for yourself is always respected.

I’d love to be more like Leo, who is not interested in certificates to prove you’ve walked a Camino. For him this is just part of a bigger journey. He absorbs so much of what’s around him and this is what makes him the rich, worldly person he has become…. And the fact he’s Italian and could charm the birds from the trees. I love him!

Yet this is not quite the end of the chapter. Like Martin Sheen in ‘The Way’, we have another mission before getting on the plane home… And my feet are already itching to get started!

Post script: We walked around the corner from the plaza back to our hostel to be greeted by Victor, escorting his partially sighted father as they approached the end. Nobody could have looked happier and more elated. Nobody or nothing could better encapsulate the spirit of the Camino.

Days 28 to 30 – Doing it the French Way

After the tarmac of the previous days the Norte in Galicia has revived the true spirit of the Camino; walking on quiet trails and minor roads accompanied by stunning scenery. Starting out in the dark, my breath is caught in the light of my head torch and my fingers complain of the cold.
The early morning mist deadens the sound and allows time for quiet reflection. I’ve enjoyed much solitary walking over the last month but have never felt alone. The other day felt rather poignant, with my brother Pete walking on one side of me and my close friend Fong the other. How they would have loved the Way. They now walk the celestial Camino but their presence surrounds me. I am sure they would have enjoyed each others company as well.

The Camino is quieter now. Many walkers take a week or fortnight’s holiday and do the Camino a section at a time, maybe over several years. The pilgrims who remain seem intent on finishing the Camino. Those who use travel companies carry light day packs and stay in hostels or hotels and rarely slum it with us paupers in the albergues. They don’t know what they’re missing!

Great to catch up with Shimmy, my hat provider

The albergues seemed to have stepped up a gear in terms of quality. We had a fabulous night at our albergue in the tiny hamlet of ‘A Lagoa’. The owner’s mother invited us into the kitchen to admire the most amazing pilgrim’s meal she was preparing for us, including a choice of soups, paella, 3 hot meats, tortilla patatas, pasta and meat sauce, grilled peppers… The Santiago cake drizzled with sweet wine for dessert was to die for!

Yet nothing could beat the more modest experience the following night, staying in the hugely impressive Sobrado Dos Monxes, an 1,100 year old Cisterian monastery. It was quite humbling to be sleeping in the same ‘habitacions‘ that pilgrims have been resting in over so many centuries.

The impressive Sobrado Dos Monxes monastery

Shimmy happy to catch up with our ‘Camino family’

Over the last few days, a new Camino Family has come together, a mix of German, Austrian, American, Spanish, Italian, Israeli, and 1 Englishman! It’s a real bag of characters but I would happily walk with any of them, anywhere. Crazy and fun Liz and Sue, the kind and loving Shimmy, Leo the Italian charmer who shows me the Camino from a different perspective through his eyes and ears . Victor a Spanish guy who’s escorting his partially sighted father on the trip he’d always dreamed of but never believed possible. And of course Jannik, Anton and Max, my regular walking buddies. Wonderful, wonderful people each and every one of them.

Shimmy mapping out the 1,500 kms she’s walked so far

Leo collecting supplies for the evening meaj

Jannik and I tiptoed out early, hugging Anton and Max goodbye. We’ve booked flights back to our previous worlds and need to make up an extra day. And what a culture shock it proved to be as the Norte converged with the Camino Francais or Frenxh Way for the final 40 kms.

From seeing maybe 20-30 regular peregrinos eaxh day and recognising eveey one of them, suddenly we were swallowed up by hundreds of walkers. The routes merged at Arzua and we stopped at the tourist information bureau to have our credenciáls stanped. “Where have you come from?” the man asked. “Irun, the Camino Norte” we replied. “Good choice” he said. “The French Way is so crowded these days. It’s like a party”.

We soon found out what he meant. The route itself is actually very pleasant and the French Way has more resources thrown at it than other routes, so the trails are good and off road as much as possible. The downside is you never seem to be more than 100 metres from a pilgrim – in the morning on the Norte we’d not seen even a solitary walker. Many of the new walkers come on guided tours and always look pristine! Which is of course fine, the long distance pilgrims don’t and shouldn’t have any Camino exclusivity rights. We’re all on our own Camino. Nevertheless it was a huge shock, as were the many bars and stalls at the side of the road selling Camino merchandise.

French Way trails – impossible to get lost!

We rocked up at a private Albergue mid afternoon after 33kms walking and luckily took the last two places in a twin room. It was more like a holiday resort with a smart cafe and bar and lounge chairs in the garden. We seriously chilled for the next few hours. Tomorrow is the final 28kms and Santiago, our ultimate destination. It’s not at all real at present and goodness knows how we’re going to feel tomorrow. But then tomorrow’s another day.

Days 24 to 26 – Into the hills

We didn’t see much of Ribadeo, preferring to stay in our apartment, chilling and eating in for a change. The others appeared pleasantly surprised by my spag bol, at least that’s my interpretation, as they wolfed down two helpings each! The town did look special in the morning light though, as we looked back at the sunrise from our vantage point in the hills.
I’ve acquired a new hat, having carelessly left my much loved legionnaires cap at a Pension a few days earlier. A couple of nights later in our albergue, an Israeli girl ‘Shimmie’ was having a clear out of excess kit, and I’m now the proud owner of a tatty but rather characterful straw hat. Thanks Shimmie, it’s been a life saver in the afternoon sun.

After the last few days trekking predominantly on tarmac and too many main roads, turning South West towards Santiago has been such a pleasure and we feel re-invigorated.

The local authorities are working hard to build new trails to bypass the busier roads on the Camino del Norte as it becomes increasingly popular, but there are places where it’s not possible. At times we had to squeeze up to the barriers on tight bends to avoid being side swiped by speeding vehicles. Not my idea of a good walk.

So I was singing away whilst enjoying the beautiful scenery, much to Jannik’s annoyance. “Peter, please don’t sing so early in the morning” he demands. “Don’t you like my singing Jannik?” “No, especially in the mornings.? Occasionally he strides ahead to create distance between us to avoid listening to my warblings. Personally, I don’t understand it, but he’s still young..

We have left Asturia and are in Galicia, pronounced ‘Gal-ee-th-ia’… It is advantageous to have a lisp when speaking Spanish. To confuse the peregrinos, the concha (shell) signs are now reversed, so instead of following the direction of the shells where the lines converge, it’s now the other way around.

We reached our day’s destination of Lourenzá at the back end of a local artisans’ fair and were happy to bump into our recent new friends Leonardo, Liz and Susan who we got to know at previous albergues. Leonardo is a typical Italian waiter, currently plying his trade in Vienna, a pretty cool guy and quite the charmer, always smiling and chatting with everybody.

Liz and Susan are two delightful American girls, not so long graduated, who are doing the Camino as part of a longer European trip. They seem to be having a lot of fun along the Way, always laughing and giggling together, great company and a joy to be around.

Our paths also kept crossing the next day as we kept climbing, admiring the magnificent mountains ahead of us, until realising we had to somehow get over them, and not a cable car in sight!

Earlier that morning we had passed by the local cemetery with the crosses eerily peering over the wall at us in the mist, like ghoulish wraiths. A cold shiver went through me and I moved quickly on.

Fortunately the rest of the day was much more tranquil, walking along farm tracks and quiet local roads, only briefly kissing the autopista (motorway). And the weather remains benign, a big bonus in Galicia which, rather like the Lake District, relies on regular rainfall to make it so lush and green.

We stopped for coffee in the square in Monteñedo, in front of the impressive 13th century cathedral, containing some of Galicia’s oldest frescos. And yes, guess who we bumped into?! In fact, it turned out to be quite a meeting place for pilgrims that day.

The final climb to our Pension in Abadin was long and steep but it didn’t feel too strenuous, despite the height we gained, thanks to the distraction of our beautiful surroundings. Max’s calf muscle seems to have improved, Jannik is managing his blisters and I’m smugly walking better than ever. We ate well in our Pension, joined by the Famous Three for the Peregrinos’ menu.

Sadly, the ‘Quatro Amigos’ will soon be breaking up. Jannik and I are planning to reach Santiago by Friday, so 5 days to cover the remaining 140 kms, a quite comfortable 28kms a day. Max and Anton don’t plan to get there until the weekend… time is the privilege of the retired.

Today has been wonderful. An easy 21 kms morning stroll in the atmospheric mist to our excellent albergue in Vivalba, and the afternoon spent exploring the town and playing by the river, once the hot sun had broken through.

The webs of 1,000 spiders or aomething less sinister

Tomorrow will be much tougher, 35 kms to an albergue in Miraz run by volunteers from the Confraternity of St James, an English organisation devoted to promoting the pilgrimage to Santiago. I’m looking forward to spending some time there relaxing over tea in the garden! So an early night is due.

Days 20 to 23 – Detours and New Direction

We started out from our excellent apartment in El Pito in the wrong direction. “The route’s that way” I pointed out, but the others said they were going to Cudillero, a ‘must see’ tradtitional Spanish fishing village apparently. Only 1.5kms detour they said. We can get a coffee there and provisions, they said. I followed reluctantly on legs still to wake up, not very happy.

Cudillero is built up either side of a steep gorge, leading to the sea. It is rather drab and dingy, until reaching the port itself, then it morphs into a picture postcard town. Needless to say, no cafes or shops were open at that time of morning and we took the obligatory photos before climbing out of town on a new, winding road with the early morning traffic whizzing by.

“I can think of one good reason to have taken this detour” I grumbled to Jannik, “And five much better reasons why not”.

The 1.5km detour was more like 3kms but I wasn’t really complaining. My hill legs are working better than ever and long climbs are a pleasant challenge.

The rest of the day was pleasant enough, other than the 15km trek before hitting a cafe and getting that so-needed first café con leche – coffee with milk (one of our many discussions is why at home we wouldn’t touch milk in a coffee but on the Camino it’s almost mandatory).

The highlight that night (for me, anyway!) was staying at a smal hostel run by one of Spain’s top athletes, Bea Tenreiro, previous world sprint duathlon champion and 3 times Spanish triathlon champion. The restaurant was adorned with trophies and framed photos of her successes. She made up a packed lunch for me for around 1 euro. Bea will never grow rich despite her talents, but was delightful and seemed to enjoy the early morning banter with the locals, asking one of them to take this photo.

The following two nights were spent in Albergues, back down to earth after several nights hotel accommodation. The big pro of albergues is the mixing with fellow peregrinos, and unlike the first week where we fell over the same people all the time, we now keep bumping into new people, which is fun.

Strangely, I seem to sleep better in 20+ bed albergues than hotels. With earplugs pushed firmly in, the drone of the snoring all around is almost therapeutic!

The downside of albergues are the limited space, the total lack of privacy, often sparse facilities and worst of all – bed bugs! Fortunately neither of these albergues had been infested!

Luarco was a lovely stop, a beautiful fishing port with the ‘wow’ factor when we first caught a glimpse of it; our spirits were uplifted at the end of a tough day knowing we were staying there overnight.

Unloading the catch

The town looked equally attractive as we left our Albergue pre-dawn to make the most of the cooler part of the day.

Camino Artwork: Walking the Camino feels at times like we’re part of a large organised event, such as cycling ‘Ride London’ or running the London Marathon, but in a very low-key way. What I mean is that all along the route the local people are making an effort for the benefit of peregrinos, building sculptures, designing works of art on the walls or rocks, both passively and actively encouraging us on. In his book about the Camino, Jean-Christophe Ruffin talks about peregrinos being invisible. My experience is the total opposite. We are welcomed, encouraged, people leave out food and drink for us, they call out ‘Buen Camino’ from the side of the road, their houses, even passing cars. It really is a unique experience. And the artwork is great fun!

And now we change direction. The sea that has been our constant companion for the last 3 weeks is left behind and we move into the mountains. Harder and more remote, and ever closer to our final destination of Santiago.

Our sunset last night was stunning. We’re in a cafe eating breakfast, feeling positive after an evening relaxing in a comfortable apartment. Time to go.

Menu

Social Menu