Walking the Camino de Santiago de Compostela -
The Way of Saint James
I think it was the last bottle of red wine we drank over dinner
that did it. How else could I, a dedicated touring cyclist, agree to accompany
some friends on an 873km walk, I repeat, WALK, from the Col du
Somport on the French/Spanish border to Santiago de Compostela. I had to be mad
to even contemplate it, particularly as I only had two and a half weeks to get
organised and do some training before I had to leave. To put the immensity of
the walk into another perspective, I calculated that with an average stride
around 70 centimetres, I would walk nearly 1,250,000 steps.
The organisation bit was the easy part. Within 24 hours I had
booked my flight to Paris and a train to Pau in the foothills of the French
Pyrenees. I had done quite a lot of hiking and backpacking in an earlier life,
but in recent years, for various reasons, cycling had come to dominate my
leisure activities. I had always meant to get back into it and do more walking
but somehow, it never happened. There were always too many bike rides to do. A
bit of walking to get the leg muscles used to a different form of exercise and
starting to carry a pack seemed to be a good idea. After all, I would be doing
just that for many weeks on the Camino and the success or otherwise of the trip
would be heavily influenced by how I handled the physical strains and stresses
of walking with a pack day in, day out. The prospect was rather daunting.
The training really
didn't happen as after the first few longish walks around the city streets, I
developed tendonitis in one of my ankles and training was off the agenda. Still
it is amazing what some good professional physiotherapy and high powered
anti-inflammatory drugs can do in a short period of time. By the time I flew out
of Adelaide on my way to Pau in the south of France to meet up with Herta and
Burckhard, I was starting to believe that I may just be able to make it.
Why?
For H & B there were significant religious reasons for walking
the Camino. They are committed Christians who had just returned from two years
working as volunteers for a Catholic charity in Papua-New Guinea. One of the priests
they worked with had recently made this pilgrimage and had suggested that they
might find it rewarding. They had previously done significant walks in
Patagonia, the Andes, Kenya and South East Asia, so there was also the physical challenge of undertaking
such a long walk. New Zealanders, Adrian and Christine, also committed
Christians, who were working for the same charity in New Guinea decided to join
them. Me, I was just along for the ride - or should that be "the walk".
Well, that's not entirely true. I was
the "non-believer" in the group, but I am deeply interested in history and the
culture of Europe. I had read a number of books by people who had walked and
cycled the Camino. I remember when I first read Bettina Selby's account of her bicycle journey
from the great cathedral in Vezalay in Burgundy to Santiago. This was the start of my interest in the Camino.
It was always in the back of my mind that this was
something that I would like to do one day. To walk a route that had
been walked by unknown millions of pilgrims and is still walked by many
thousands each year, would be a special event in my life. Besides, the other four would need
someone like me to play Devil's Advocate to keep needling their faith and
beliefs!
Statue of a pilgrim at the Col du Somport
A Little History
Give me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of joy, immortal diet,
My bottle of salvation,
My gown of glory, hope's true gage,
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.
(Sir Walter Raleigh, 1604)
There are three great Christian pilgrimages - to Jerusalem, to
Rome and to Santiago. Walking to Jerusalem is now, and perhaps always has been,
fraught with particular danger. The Via Francigena from Canterbury Cathedral to
Rome via Switzerland is less well known and less developed. The Camino de
Santiago de Compostela is now the most popular of the long distance pilgrimage
routes and also the most developed infrastructure. So, a little history of the
Camino to start:
Apparently, James the Great, brother of Jesus, was a rather
difficult person and he managed to upset the authorities in Jerusalem to such an
extent that he was eventually killed. His disciples rescued his body and placed
it in a stone boat and sailed away across the Mediterranean. Seven days later,
the boat, miraculously guided by angels, arrived at Cap Finesterre (the "End
of the Earth" until that busy body Christopher Columbus decided to sail to
west in1492, or should that honour really go to the Vikings who reached America
several hundred years earlier). Finesterre is the most westerly point in
Spain and but the most westerly point in Continental Europe is in Portugal. As the boat reached the shore, a
horseman on his way to his wedding was drowned when his horse bolted into the
surf. The tearful bride to be prayed to God and Saint James for help and the
rider and the horse emerged from the sea, very much alive and covered with
scallop shells. The scallop shell became the symbol of St James and it remains
the badge of the pilgrims today. Well, that's one of the stories and the one I
like.
In 813, the Bishop Theodimir was guided by a brightly shining
star to a field where the remains of Saint James and his two disciples were unearthed. The church
built on this site to house the miraculous relics became known as "Santiago
de Compostela". Many books suggest that this name translates to "Saint
James of the Field of Stars". Other sources argue that the word "Compostela"
is more correctly derived from the Latin word "compostum" meaning burial
site - our modern English word "compost" has the same derivation.
"Field of Stars" sounds a lot more romantic than "cemetery".
Somehow,"Saint James of the Cemetery" doesn't have the same ring to it!
Excavations in the Cathedral at Santiago show that it was indeed built on an
ancient burial ground.
The first documented pilgrimage to Santiago is that of a monk
from the abbey at Reichenau in southern Germany in 830 but pilgrims probably
started making the journey shortly after the discovery of the bones.
People have been making the pilgrimage to Santiago for over a
thousand years, but the Romans, Visigoths and the Celts had been
travelling on these routes for many centuries before that. Nobody knows how many
people have travelled along these pathways. One estimate is that at
its peak in the 12th to 15th centuries, about one-third of the total population
of Europe made the pilgrimage to Santiago.
It is interesting to think about the reasons why people made the
difficult and hazardous journey to Santiago. There were the obvious religious
reasons. Hell and damnation were concepts that people truly believed in. If you
could avoid a journey to hell, an indefinite sojourn in purgatory and have your
sins forgiven, it would have been a major incentive to undertake a major
pilgrimage to a far off place like Santiago or Jerusalem. At the time when the
pilgrimage was at its height, most people were bound to the place of birth and
not free to travel without the permission of their feudal lord. "Holidays"
as we now understand the word, as distinct from "holy days" were an
unknown concept to the medieval peasant. To go on a Pilgrimage probably provided
the only opportunity for the ordinary person to escape from the drudgery of
every day life and enjoy a life of freedom and adventure. Anyone who has read
Chaucer's "Pilgrims Tales" of the adventures of a group of pilgrims
journeying to Canterbury will know that more than a little bit of alcohol and
sex was enjoyed by the pilgrims. There are stories that this is still the case
today and the number of used condoms seen behind hedges as we neared Santiago
would give some credence to this.
The pilgrimage was temporarily abandoned for a period at the end
of the tenth century when the Moors effectively destroyed Santiago but during
the eleventh century it became increasingly popular being used as a "forceful
instrument of propaganda in the so-called Christian Re-conquest of Spain."
The story of the pilgrimage to Santiago is an unusual and rather
unsavoury mix of political opportunism, religious propaganda and commercial
greed. It is also a story of pious devotion and sacrifice by untold millions of
men and women who made the long and arduous journey from their homes throughout
Europe. There was not just one Camino de Santiago de Compostela. There were many
routes starting from cathedrals in cities all over Europe. The three main
French routes started from Paris, Vezalay and Le Puy-en-Velay. These crossed the
Pyrenees at St. Jean-Pied-de-Port, the route used by the majority of modern
pilgrims. The route through Arles brought together pilgrims from the eastern
parts of France as well as those from Italy, Switzerland, Germany, Austria and
other parts of eastern Europe. (I had previously cycled along part of one of
these routes in the upper valley of the Danube.) The Arles route crossed the Pyrenees at the Col du
Somport, one of the main Roman trading and military routes across the mountains.
Herta, Burckhard and I chose to start our walk at the Col du Somport.
Adrian and Christine started a little later from St. Jean-Pied-de-Port. We were
to
meet up with Adrian and Christine in Puenta la Reina.
Buen Camino!
Part 1 - Col du Somport to Puenta la Reina
Day 1 - Col du Somport to Canfranc Estación
- 8km
The start of our pilgrimage at the Col du
Somport
A strong, cold wind was blowing at the top of the pass and we
sheltered behind the walls of the bar to eat our lunch of bread, cheese and apples.
Clouds were scudding quickly across the sky. One moment the high mountains of
the Pyrenees were bathed in bright sunshine but a few seconds later, it looked
as though rain would fall at any moment. It was too cold to spend much time
admiring the views, so we set off down the steep rough track. We stepped across
the infant Rio Aragón, a river which would accompany us
on our journey for several days. It was
a delightful walk as we dropped steeply down the valley past the modern
apartments of the ski resort of Candanchú and the ruins
of the once great pilgrim hospice of Santa Cristina.
Canfranc Estación is dominated by the huge
art deco railway station and hotel which was built to service the rail line
between France and Spain. Opened in 1928, the line closed in 1970 following the
collapse of a major viaduct on the French part of the line. Work has started to
re-open the line. Hopefully, the spectacular station building, now largely
a ruin, will be restored as part of the work. (Movie goers of a "certain age"
may remember this railway station from its appearance in the David Lean film of
"Doctor Zhivago".)
After we had settled into the friendly
albergue, Herta discovered that the sole of one of her boots was
coming off. Fortunately, Canfranc is a popular mountain
holiday destination and there was an outdoor store with a wide range of walking
boots. She bought a new pair which seemed to be comfortable but would cause
trouble for the rest of the walk.
Day 2 - Canfranc Estación to Jaca
- 24km - Total 32km
We were up, packed, had breakfast and on our way by half past
seven. It was quite cold and for most of the day the sky was overcast and
unsettled. When we looked back up the valley towards the pass, it looked as
though heavy rain was falling.
After a few kilometres of road we walked through the old town of
Canfranc, a town full of attractive granite houses. We crossed the Rio Aragón on a Romanesque
bridge and followed a rough, stony track by the river to the
village of Villanúa. Here we stopped for a café con leche
(milk coffee) and a croissant in the village bar. The valley widened and at a
pleasant spot beside the river we stopped for lunch. Two of the people who had
stayed at the albergue last night, Katherine from France and a
young Swiss woman, walked quickly by.
We walked for a while with a French couple we had first seen at
the Col du Somport. Last year they had walked from St. Jean-Pied-de-Port to
Santiago. This year they were walking from Arles in the south of France to
Puenta la Reina and then through Pamplona to St. Jean. Over the next few weeks
we would meet a number of people who were either walking to Santiago in stages
over a number of years or who, having walked one route, were now following a second
route.
Castiello de Jaca was first recorded in 1042 and is now an
attractive village with streets lined with delightful stone houses. On the
outskirts of the town were a number of rather ugly "holiday" apartment
buildings. The contrast between the two building styles was stark and it was
depressing to think that modern society could only manage to build such
unattractive buildings in such a delightful environment.
As we approached Jaca, we became aware that we were no longer
hemmed into a narrow valley. The Pyrenees were now behind us although they would
dominate the views to our right for some days yet. We climbed a steep hill and
made our way along the wide boulevards into the old medieval town.
The delightful and extremely comfortable
albergue wasn't due to open until four o'clock so we went in search
of the Iglesia de Santiago where the pleasant
priest provided us with our credenciales and stamped
them. These simple documents and the collection of rubber stamps from the
various places we stayed in became an important part of our lives. Without them,
we could not get access to the pilgrims´ albergues and refugios
along the way. They would also prove to the church authorities in
Santiago that we had walked all that way. We were the 656, 7 and 8th people to
have received their credenciales in Jaca that
year; clear evidence that our route through to Puente la Reina would be fairly
quiet compared to the bustling numbers of pilgrims walking from St.
Jean-Pied-de-Port and Roncesvalles on the Camino Frances.
That evening we went to the special pilgrims' mass where the
small group of pilgrims were called to the front of the church to receive a
special pilgrims' blessing in Spanish, German, French and English. As we left the
church a number of the congregation wished us a ¨Buen Camino¨.
A couple asked us to pray for them when we reached Santiago.
Both H & B suffered their first blisters of the trip.
Day 3 - Jaca to Santa Celia de Jaca - 16km - Total 48km
About four o'clock this morning, a man on the other side of the
dormitory started snoring very loudly. This was to be the first of many loud
snorers for the trip and made us feel glad that we had packed earplugs!
Unfortunately, sleeping in such close quarters meant that there was little we
could do to escape from the noise.
When we left the albergue about half
past seven, we were almost the last to leave. We went looking for somewhere to get some breakfast. This proved to
be quite difficult as all the shops, bars and cafés were
closed. Eventually we noticed a bar with several backpacks piled near the door. It
was full of the people who had spent the night at the
albergue. After breakfast of fresh orange juice, coffee and
tostada mermello - toast with marmalade - we set
off.
Our route followed quiet, dirt farm tracks which for the first
few kilometres, closely followed the main road to Pamplona. At Jaca, the Rio
Aragón made a right hand turn towards the west and as we walked with the early
morning sun on our backs we had pleasant views of the high snow-clad peaks of
the Pyrenees on our right. The Rio Aragón which we had easily stepped
across near the Col du Somport, was now a wide river.
Santa Celia is a pretty village with lots of attractive old
stone buildings on the banks of the Rio Aragón. We followed the yellow arrows which marked the Camino into the
town but we quickly realised that we were heading out again without finding the
refugio. We asked a woman for directions but her Spanish was too fast for
H to understand. A Spanish pilgrim just happened to be passing and asked us in
English if we had understood and translated the directions for us. As we walked
into the small square which was dominated by a large statue of a pilgrim, a
woman asked if we were looking for the refugio and
took us to it. The small refugio was a delightful
place in an old stone building. It had been renovated to a very high standard.
The hospitallero, a large jolly man from the
south of Spain, spends his summers looking after the pilgrims who pass
through. His friendly, happy attitude made this one of the most enjoyable places
we stayed in.
French Katherine and the Swiss woman were there also. They had
walked to the famous monastery of San Juan de la Peña
but hitched a lift to Santa Celia as the Swiss woman was suffering from severe
blisters. H's blisters seem to be getting a lot worse. I had a large blister on
my heel but more worrying was the tenderness that had developed in my heels as
the day wore on. Every step I took seemed to hurt. I put some extra cushioning
in the heels of my boots hoping that this would alleviate the problem.
Dinner was cooked by the hospitallero; salad, spaghetti
with a tomato sauce and cakes from a shop in Jaca. The cake shop gives its
leftover produce to the hospitallero for the pilgrims. The cakes were
delicious. The wine was served in recycled mineral water bottles; a indication
of the quality of the product. That didn't stop us from consuming a moderately
large volume of the thin acidic beverage.
Day 4 - Santa Celia de Jaca to Artieda - 28km - Total 76km
Twenty eight kilometres; that's about 32,000 steps and it seemed
as if I felt everyone of them. My left heel was very tender and I felt it every
time I put my foot down. Today was going to be a short day. We had plenty of
time to get to Puenta la Reina to meet up with A & C and we had no need to walk
long distances. Our plan was to walk to the albergue
in the tiny hamlet of Arrés which was only 8.5 kilometres
from Santa Celia.
We packed up in a leisurely fashion and walked to Puente la
Reina de Jaca in a little over an hour. After buying bread, cheese, chorizo
sausage and pastries in the village bakery, we joined a few of the other
pilgrims for coffee at the local bar. H & B wanted to buy some Compeed (a
special second skin treatment for blisters) and we had to wait for the pharmacy
to open. While we waited we talked about our plans for the day.
Arrés and the albergue were only another
three or four kilometres away. There were only a few houses there; no bar and no
shops. What would we do when we got there? The hospitalleros would
provide us with dinner and breakfast but what would we do to fill in the rest of
the day? We decided to walk on to Artieda instead. It would be a long day's
walk but it would fill in the hours. Unfortunately, we failed to fill up our
water containers before we left and it was a hot day.
After Puenta la Reina de Jaca the path climbed up and down on
dirt tracks. There was little or no shade and the sun beat down mercilessly. We
stopped for lunch in the only patch of shade we came across. The valley was
quite wide here and we walked through large fields of wheat, barley and oats;
some of it was starting to turn yellow. There were a couple of villages a few
kilometres off the route but no where to stop for a break or even to get some
water. By mid afternoon we had run out of water and wondered if we would get any
before we reached Artieda some seven kilometres away. We came across a water
trough which was fed by a pipeline and decided to fill our water containers. The
water looked OK but we didn't have any water purification tablets and felt that
we were taking a risk. We didn't have much choice and luckily suffered no ill
effects.
Artieda was a 10th century fortified village on top of a steep
hill and by the time we reached the village and the albergue,
we were very tired. I must have looked bad because the young woman working at
the albergue insisted on carrying my pack to the
room. Still, after a hot shower, a change of clothes and a couple of cold beers,
we were ready to do some sightseeing and walked around the narrow winding
streets of the village. At dinner, we sat out on a sunny terrace with
magnificent views over the valley of the Rio Aragón to the high peaks of the
Pyrenees. At our table there were three of us from Australia, two from Poland,
one German, one Swiss and one from France; a mini United Nations. Conversation
was in a mixture of English, French and German.
Our days divided themselves into sections which seemed to be
separate from one another. There was the world where we spent time walking and
the world where after
reaching our destination, we showered and rested. It was almost as though that
was part of another life. The next morning, we would get up, pack our backpack
and again enter the
world of walking the Camino.
Blisters and sore feet and knees were common complaints among
the pilgrims, particularly those like us who were at the start of their walks.
Each evening we tried to do some stretches and then took time to carefully
examine our feet for blisters and other problems. Self massage of legs and feet
did wonders and help make you feel better. I had been taught that a blister which
hadn't broken should be dressed and left alone to heal, the fluid in the blister
acting to protect the injury. If it had burst, it
needed to be treated to avoid infection. Many walkers, particularly the Spanish
and Italians took a different approach. They inserted a sterilised needle threaded
with cotton through the blisters, leaving the cotton thread to act as a wick to
continually drain the fluid from the blister. It looked rather gruesome to watch
them sticking needles into their feet and very strange to see them walking
around with lengths of cotton
hanging from their soles.
H had developed large blisters under the big toe nails of both feet.
Days 5 - Artieda to Ruesta - 11km - Total 87km
After walking slowly down the hill from Artieda, we walked on a
series of roads and tracks before climbing steeply into a very narrow grove of
oak trees. It was delightful to be walking in the shade, sheltered from the hot
sun, for a kilometre or so. The track became quite rough and stony before we reached a
bitumen road for the last couple of kilometres into Ruesta. We rounded a corner
and our view was dominated by the huge ruins of the castle and the monastery. Founded originally
by the Moors in the early part of the 8th century, Ruesta became an important
strategic border town between Aragón and Navarra. There was a sign at the
entrance to the village which showed the population as "25". This had been
crossed out and replaced with "1" which in turn was amended to "0".
When the controversial Yesa dam was constructed in the 1950's,
the villagers' farmland was flooded and the village was slowly abandoned. Looking
back up to Ruesta from the valley beyond, the village looks remarkably intact
but close up, it is almost totally in ruins. A couple of buildings among the
dozens of ruins has been restored to provide accommodation for the
pilgrims, a café and a small bar. The summer population
is now four people (who are all involved with looking after the pilgrims) plus
two cats, two dogs and a few wandering goats. The water here was unsuitable for
drinking and we had to buy bottled water at an inflated price from the café.
Day 6 - Ruesta to Undues de Lerda - 12km - Total 99km
There was a steep and rough track from Ruesta to the river and
an abandoned campground. Nearby was an old pilgrims' fountain surrounded by
1,000 year old oak trees. A delightful spot but someone had vandalised the
fountain and diverted the water from the spring to feed the swimming pool in the
campground. After a four kilometre climb through oak and pine forests we emerged
onto a dry, open heath land covered with low shrubby gorse bushes and only an
occasional tree.
Looking down on Undues de Lerda and the Roman
Road leading up into the village
We rounded a corner and there was Undues de Lerda in front of us
on the top of a nearby hill. We turned at the solitary tree and dropped steeply
down before joining a Roman road which was in remarkably good condition for the
climb to the village. We ate our lunch of bread and sausage accompanied by a
cerveza con limon (a beer shandy made with lemon
soft drink rather than lemonade - it is a very refreshing drink) in the village
bar.
Here we met up with Bernhard whom we had first seen in Santa
Celia. He had walked the Camino last year with a friend who had complained about
everything the whole way. His friend's attitude ruined the experience for him,
so he is doing it on his own this year. He was quite angry when he walked into
the bar. When he came to leave Artieda this morning, he discovered that his
expensive walking sticks had been taken from his bed and a cheap pair
substituted. Someone told him who had done it and he set off in pursuit, finally
catching up with the culprit after getting a lift in a car. When he confronted
the Frenchman who had taken his sticks, the Frenchman threw Bernhard's sticks on
the ground, grabbed his own and stormed off. The man came into the bar
with a French couple while Bernhard was telling us the story and sat meekly in the
corner not looking at at anyone while he quickly ate his lunch and went on his
way.
The albergue in Undues is in an
old mansion, one of a number of grand houses lining the streets of the village.
Saint Francis of Assisi stayed in the village on his pilgrimage to Santiago.
Today it is a town of old people and except for the bar keeper and his family,
we saw no young people at all.
Day 7 - Undues de Lerda to Sanguesa - 15km - Total 114km
Today we achieved our first major milestone. Just after leaving
the village, we completed our first 100 kilometres of walking. That just left
another 750 or so to go.
We were going to detour from the main route to visit the town of
Javier where San Francisco Javier (St Francis Xavier) was born. H and B had
visited the tomb of St Francis Xavier in Goa in India and in Adelaide where we
live, the Catholic cathedral is dedicated to him. This part of the trip was in
effect, a pilgrimage to St Francis. Once we crossed over the border into Navarra,
the signposting to Javier disappeared and because we were no longer on the
official Camino, the ubiquitous yellow arrows weren't there to guide us. After some indecision at a cross road, we
stopped a motorist and asked for directions. A couple of kilometres later and we
were in Javier. The monastery was undergoing major restoration work in
preparation for the 600 year celebrations of the birth of St Francis due to take
place in 2006. Fortunately, the work on the basilica had been completed and we
could enjoy a leisurely visit.
All along the Camino routes in Spain, painted yellow arrows and
stylised cockle shell signs are used to guide the pilgrim. This makes navigation
very easy and looking for the yellow arrows as you walk along becomes an
important part of the walking. The arrows are sometimes on trees, sometimes on
stones and rocks and sometimes on buildings. If we hadn't noticed an arrow for a
while, we soon started taking a lot more interest in where we were heading and
looked intently for the next arrow to appear. Rarely did we have a problem and
we were never far from our intended route.
We had talked about visiting the large 9th century Benedictine
monastery in Leyre a few kilometres back towards Santa Celia. We knew that the
monastery only allowed a small number of pilgrims to stay but the barkeeper in
Undues told us only male pilgrims were allowed. Consequently, we decided to go
to Sanguesa for the night. At the albergue in
Sanguesa we met a woman who had spent the previous night at the monastery
in Leyre. She thought it had been the best experience of her walk so far.
Compared to all the places we had stayed in since leaving Jaca,
Sanguesa was a veritable metropolis with shops, supermarkets, banks and
restaurants. It was quite a change. The delightful, small
albergue was run by the nuns who looked after the nearby old peoples home and
some of the clients of the home handled stamping of
credenciales and the issuing of door keys. There were three very
scruffy looking cyclists hanging around the doorway and after a while they got
someone to let them in. They were not staying the night and were not even
cycling to Santiago. They were just taking advantage of the facilities available
to the pilgrims. After showering and washing their clothes, they made their
lunch using some of the food left there by earlier pilgrims. They then had a
siesta for an hour or two before heading off. The albergue quickly
filled up and for the first time, we had a number of people sleeping on
mattresses on the floor.
Privacy is something of a luxury on the Camino. Only on rare
occasions are the dormitories single sex and nearly all of the shower and toilet
facilities are shared. Showers usually just a have a curtain. Everyone copes
and everyone tries to respect the privacy of the other pilgrims. A
Spanish woman with an extremely loud and raucous voice staying in Sanguesa
insisted on locking the whole amenities area so she could have a shower in
private. She spent well over half an hour locked in and when she finally emerged
to a queue of waiting people, she had used all of the hot water. Everyone else had
to have cold showers. Fortunately, we had our showers earlier. She kept on
telling people which beds they could have to sleep on and where they could sit.
After nearly everyone else had gone upstairs to sleep, I could still hear her
talking loudly downstairs even with my earplugs in. The next morning she was up
with the early risers. All of the other people who got up early quietly gathered their
things together and went downstairs to finish their packing. Not this woman. The
first thing she did was to put on her boots and then spent the next half hour or
so clumping heavily up and down the stairs as she got herself organised.
Days 8 - Sanguesa to Izco - 18km - Total 132km
We were on our way this morning by a quarter past seven. This
was an early start for us as we didn't have far to walk each day. Many of
the other pilgrims were trying to cover an average of 35 kilometres or more
each day. They seemed to be permanently tired and worn out.
Once we climbed up into the hills, we had great scenery and
pleasant walking along gravel and dirt roads and tracks. Most days, since we left
the Pyrenees, we had seen wind farms; some with over 100 generators. Today we
seemed to be walking past them all day. They were on every ridge line. Mid
morning we passed the site of the village of Olas which had been abandoned in
the 15th century as a result of the plague. Virtually nothing remains now.
We arrived in Izco in time for lunch which we had in the very
pleasant albergue which is part of the local community
centre of San Martin. We were almost the last people to leave Sanguesa.
One woman was just getting out of bed when we left. We were surprised to find
that she had arrived in Izco before us. She hadn't passed us on the way and she
couldn't have walked along the road and arrived before us as the road was
considerably longer than the route we had followed. She must have taken a bus or
got a lift. Not long after we arrived she left to walk the 10 kilometres to
Monreal. Unless you are not well or have physical problems such as bad blisters,
etc, taking a bus or a taxi is not normally acceptable behaviour for a pilgrim.
Many people do take a train or bus between Burgos and León
to avoid the infamous walk across the high Meseta but to take a bus or taxi to
allow you to get to the next refugio early and thus ensure that you get a
bed is considered to be not on.
There were no shops in Izco. Previously, when we've been in this
situation, we have found that the hospitaleros at
the albergue provided a meal at a reasonable
price. Here there is a large well equipped kitchen and a limited range of food
available to buy. We cooked pasta with tomato sauce, roast capsicum, beans and
salami. We shared this with a woman from Vienna but she didn't tell us before
hand that she was a vegetarian. We could easily have left out the salami in the
cooking.
Day 9 - Izco to Monreal - 10km - Total 142km
The early risers were in evidence again. Being disturbed early in the morning
was something we had to get used to. The first people were out of
bed around five o'clock, before it was light. We got up a little after six as
there didn't seem to be any point in staying in bed when you are wide awake. We
packed up slowly and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast. Even so, we arrived at Monreal about ten o'clock.
We dropped our packs at the albergue
and wandered up to the bar where we had coffee and a
boccadillo (a baguette sandwich). We then went looking for a
supermarket. We eventually found the tiny village shop but it was Sunday and
closed. We saw a woman on her way home with a couple of cartons of eggs and
asked her where we could buy some food. She told us where to find a house where
the owners sold milk, bread and eggs. At least we will have something to eat.
Monreal is a very attractive village with a number of old stone
buildings and a picturesque Gothic stone bridge over the small stream at the
foot of the village. Today was Corpus Christi and mass at the
Iglesia de San Martin was followed by a procession through the
village where the priests blessed the houses and their occupants.
The albergue had only 20 beds and it
filled up early. The pilgrims were mainly Spanish but there were three Germans,
one French, three Brazilians and us. It was very noisy with the Spaniards
seemingly incapable of talking at lower than shouting levels. Mobile phones
seemed to be ringing constantly and there was a lot of loud snoring.
Day 10 - Monreal to Tiebas - 14km - Total 156km
I had never been in a situation where there have been so many
bad snorers as we had last night. Even with earplugs, you could still hear them.
I got up at half past three to go the toilet. When I took my earplugs out, the
noise was seriously loud.
It was cloudy this morning which meant that most people slept in
until after six o'clock. Then there was a mad panic for the long
distance walkers to pack up and get on the road. Once things settled down, we
got up. After another leisurely breakfast, we were on the road before eight. The
weather was very overcast with heavy black clouds hanging low over the
mountains. It didn't rain but it looked as though it could at any time.
For much of the morning we followed narrow rough, sometimes very
rough, tracks which climbed up and down the hillside. There was a perfectly
adequate, quiet road down in the valley which headed in the same direction as us
and we would have had a much easier day if we had followed it. It was only 14
kilometres to Tiebas, but it was quite a hard morning's walk. As we walked we
could see the city of Pamplona about 20 or 30 kilometres away on our right and
wondered whether A & C who were due to meet us in Puenta la Reina in two days
time, had reached there as they had planned.
Although it dates back to the 13th century, there was little of
interest in Tiebas. The church is pleasant and there are a few castle ruins on
the outskirts of the village. The village is dominated by three huge quarries
which are slowly eating away at the mountain. Every couple of hours everything
shakes with the shock of the large explosions in the quarries. There were only
six beds in the albergue of which we occupied three
- first come, first served. Four late comers had mattresses on the
floor. The place was renovated last year and is now quite nice. Before that
there were only mattresses on the floor and it had a reputation for being rather
dirty.
Monday was an early closing day for the bar and there were no
shops in the village. Despite having had tortilla
and bread for lunch, we went back to the bar at two-thirty for an early evening
meal or a late second lunch depending on how we wanted to look at it. We also
bought a bottle of wine to have with some dried fruit and nuts later.
Day 11 - Tiebas to Iglesia de Santa Maria de Eunate - 13km plus
4 to Obanas and return -
Total 173km
When we looked out the western window, the direction we were
heading, the sky was clear, bright blue with a few white clouds on the distant
horizon. From the eastern window, dark, black clouds filled the sky. Later,
after some kilometres of walking, we looked back towards the village. We were
bathed in sunshine but Tiebas was still covered by black clouds. It was an easy
walk through pleasant countryside and attractive villages. Nearly every house
had a large red rose bush climbing towards its balcony.
In Eneriz, we met up with some of the others who had spent the
night at Tiebas. The village bar was open and we stopped for a coffee and
something to eat. On the recommendation of a Spanish/Swiss woman, we had a
plato combinado, a plate of mixed salamis, chorizo
and dried ham served with bread. The meat was delicious; the best we'd had. It
was cut freshly for us.
We arrived in Eunate at eleven o'clock and got the last three
beds (mattresses on the floor really) in the tiny albergue.
It is in the old monks' ermitage next to the
famous octagonal Romanesque church. The ermitage
is now owned by a Dutch/Brazilian couple who have made it their vocation to look
after the church and the pilgrims who pass by. They live in part of the building
with the remainder given over to the 10 or so pilgrims who stay. There is no
charge for the accommodation and meals but you can make a donation if you want.
The octagonal Romanesque Iglesia de Santa
Maria de Eunate in the early morning light
There is some mystery as to why the 13th century church was
built . It appears that it was not originally built as a church but as a
pilgrims' hospital and bodies in graves within the simple arched cloisters were
found to have scallop shells around their necks. It is an unusual octagonal
shape but the sides are not equal. Apparently this gives some credence to the
idea that it was originally built by the Knights Templar as they regularly built
octagonal buildings. It is a very impressive building in a delightful country
setting.
After looking around the church, we walked the two kilometres
into Obanas the buy some food for lunch. This was where the path we had been
following from the Col du Somport meets the more popular route from St.
Jean-Pied-de-Port. As we sat in the sun eating our picnic lunch, we were shocked
at how many pilgrims were coming through the town on their way from Pamplona. We
rarely saw more than 20 or so people on any day on our route but at least three
times that number passed by while we were there. Things were going to be a lot
more crowded from this point on.
There were ten people staying at Eunate. One South African, two
French guys from Brittany, four Italians who have walked from near Venice and
us. At least one of the French guys and two of the Italians are priests. We had
a very pleasant dinner of garlic soup, pasta, salad, bread and cheese with
conversations being translated back and forth in English, French, Italian and
German. After dinner, the owners held a candle light prayer service in the
church. The woman has a wonderful soprano voice and sang a number of medieval
songs and chants. It was an extremely beautiful evening and it remains one of the
highlights of the whole trip.
Day 12 - Iglesia de Santa Maria de Eunate to Puenta la Reina -
5km - Total 178km
When we left the Col du Somport there was a sign giving the
distance to Santiago de Compostela as 850 kilometres. If that distance was
correct, when we reached Obanas this morning, we were over one fifth of the way
to Santiago. That called for a celebratory bottle of cava
(Spanish sparkling wine)
with dinner!
We reached Puenta la Reina before the refugio
ran by the Jesuit Seminary closed for the morning. A woman who had arrived to do
the cleaning allowed us to leave our packs there so we could wander around the
town unhindered. After some searching, we found the post office and it was open.
It was the first open post office we had seen in nearly two weeks in Spain. Its
opening hours were only from 9.30 to 11.30 on weekdays and 9.30 to 10.30 on
Saturdays. Post offices were always closed when we
arrived in towns in the afternoons. We bought some stamps and sent postcards to
family and friends.
A & C arrived in the early afternoon after having walked 24
kilometres from Pamplona. Now the whole group was together for the first time.
After some time talking about our various experiences so far, we spent the
afternoon wandering around the town and seeing the famous medieval bridge over
the Rio Arga.
The first stage of our journey was over and we were looking
forward to the experiences to come.
(More photos of this part of my Camino can be found at http://www.pbase.com/magfos )
Part 2 - Puenta la Reina to Burgos
Part 3 - Burgos to León
Part 4 - León to
Santiago de Compostela
Books, Music and Links on the Camino
