On Saturday, March 28, I left Leon and headed for Hospital de Orbigo. This was a good 38 km walk. I was awakened early at my hostel by quite terrible noise coming from the outside. It sounded like a lynching mob. I left the hotel at 6 a.m. to find many youngsters still in the streets. Some were staggering home, some were vomitting into the gutter, etc. They didn't seem to be doing too well. The noise they were making was not happy but rather angry and frustrated. There were broken bottles and empty wine mugs all over the place. Some of the people were behaving in a slightly aggressive manner but nobody was really threatening. This sort of partying is all too common in the Nordic countries but I didn't expect to see it in Spain. The phenomenon was very much like that I observed the previous Sunday in Burgos. The road to Hospital was much more interesting than most of the way between Burgos and Leon. However, the wind is strong and there is about 10 km with no shelter at all. In Hospital I found a traditional refugio on the main street. It is run by a young hospitalero Antonio. Only Pascal from France had signed in before me. He has taken the short route along the highway (30 km). He is a very charming person but speaks very little French. He is from around Perpignan and his mother tongue is Catalan. We ended up conversing in English. The place is OK but without heating. The showers are solar heated and OK. Soon we get company, including a young man from Zaragoza, another one from Barcelona, Liz from Washington D.C., Pat from Korea, Sebastian from Leipzig, and finally my country man Ilkka. We enjoy the sunny afternoon and go together for a menu del peregrino. At the table we decide to speak Spanish. Those who know the language help us others and we get along just fine. When we get back to the regugio, we make some noise and Antonio raises big fuzz about this. It is funny because all the eight guests were having dinner together and are coming back together. We really are not disturbing anybody. This is the night when Europe switches to daylight saving time. Antonio kicks us out a 8 a.m., well before sunrise and after a rather short sleep. He is not a bad guy, simply inexperienced and trying to keep order. He'll be a good hospitaler, given some time.
On Sunday morning, March 29, I head for Rabanal del Camino - another 38 km. On the way I pass through Astorga, where we have lunch with Ilkka. He stays in an albergue at Murias de Rechivaldo - a small village about 5 km from Astorga. This turns out to be a charming refugio. It is run by a Basque, who has relocated there because his knee is aching in the damp climate of Navarra. The atmosphere is very good and the place well run. The hospitalero tells us that he was given a death sentence by his doctor some time ago. He prayed and promised to do the Camino 25 times if he would live (what a clever way to ask for 25 more years). He survived and has now done the Camino 7 times on bicycle. In drops his old friend from Catalonia, who is just returning (on foot) from Santiago. We have a very good discussion about what the Camino means to us. Wonderful people. Ilkka stays and I continue. In El Ganso I drop in at an albergue, which looks like it was falling down. It turns out that only the exterior is old and the inside is very modern, with large panorama windows to the inner court, double glazing, warm floors, modern plumming, etc. There I meet a Danish woman, who has done half of the Camino before and is now completing it. The hospitalero has not showed up yet. It feels good to converse in Scandinavian. The woman tells me that her feet tell her to stay there. I continue to Rabanal, because I want to be at Cruz de Ferro at sunrise the next morning. In Rabanal I stay at Albergue de Peregrinos Nuestra Señora del Pilar. It is a nice an well run place. Here I bump into Antonella and Nadya again. There is also an Italian guy and a very religous Italian woman, whose Italian sounds a bit broke (she is constantly searching for words). It turns out that she is from South Tyrol and her mother tongue is German. Now I have met a Frenchman who speaks little French and an Italian woman who speaks little Italian. Europe is a very complex continent.
On Monday, March 30, I set out before 7 a.m. It is 8 km to Cruz the Ferro and I want to be there by sunrise. It is very cold (probably about -5 degrees Celsius) and totally dark. Only stars are shining on the clear sky. The Camino goes through fields and woods. Without my head lamp I would not get anywhere. For a short while I have to walk by the roadside, which makes me a bit nervous. Going is not easy. There are frozen pools of water on the ground and at times I go over masses of ice. I am afraid that I won't make it in time. At Foncebadon, only 2 km from the Cruz, I pass an albergue and see Xavier (the guy from Valencia that I met earlier) on the steps. He tells met that this was a wonderful albergue. They made a fire, had a yoga session, sang together accompanied by a guitar, etc. If I had known this, I would have stayed here - but I had specifically been warned that this algergue was not good. The eastern sky is already getting red and I must make haste. I half run the last 2 km. I have to cross a major (frozen) pool of water, which demonstrates that my shoes are no longer water-proof. It has been constant uphill from Rabanal. Cruz de Ferro is the highest point of the Camino at 1504 m. I reach the cruz just before sunrise. There is a lot of frost on the ground - everything is white. I am alone there and leave my stone by the cross. I have carried a small (about 200 gr.) stone of very hard and rough Finnish black granite all the way from home. This symbolizes the things that I want to leave behind. This is the (quite justified) bitterness, anger, and hate that I have felt a long time towards a few totally evil people who have done (and are still doing) me great injustice. However, this hate is eating me from the inside and can only hurt me - not its objects. Also, hating is evil and it is making more like these creeps, with whom I don't really have anything in common. So, I choose to leave all this at the Cruz de Ferro. I watch the sun rise and feel like I have just left a great burden behind. Then Xavier and Pedro (a young man from Mexico, a sculptor currently living in England) arrive. I ask them to take a picture of me (leaving the stone a second time) with my camera and I take pictures of them with theirs. Soon also two young American guys Dan and John (currently studying in Munich) arrive. I continue my walk in the still very cold morning. The sun is getting higher but it takes a long time before the frost is off from the ground. I haven't had my morning coffee and after an hour or two of walking, I arrive in the small village of Manjarin (really not much more than the refugio). This is a charming place, run by an elderly man, working outside in sandals and thick woollen socks. He has a number of cats and dogs around him. Soft choir music is playing from the loudspeakers. This too would be a good place to stay. However, I just have a cup of coffee and a biscuit, sitting outside and fraternizing with the animals.
Leaving the stone was the most important part of this journey for me. I don't carry it any more and I have no intention of going back for it. If such thoughts should try to come back to me, I can now tell them that they no longer live here. I have got these evil people away from under my skin and they no longer have any hold on me. This is a great relief.
I continue to Ponferrada, which is still far away. The descent is steep and the surface of the Camino often very rough. This is time consuming. At times I only make about 3 km per hour even though I am trying to keep a good pace.
Before Ponferrada there is a lovely village called Molinaseca. I would like to stay there but this would mess up my schedule for the rest of the trip. Soon after Molinaseca the signs direct me to the left, where the Camino makes a large circle around Ponferrada. Finally I enter Ponferrada from the West, while the albergue is in the east, and have to walk through the whole town. This adds at least 5 km to the trip. This is kind of typical, and a bit frustrating. On the road I meet Philip of Berlin. He is a rather serious young man in deep thoughts. At first we don't seem to have much in common but we keep bumping into each other for the rest of the Camino and gradually become good friends.
The albergue in Ponferrada is quite basic but warm and friendly. I get to share a room with Xavier, Pedro, and a number of other people. Xavier is not at ease in English and Pedro doesn't speak French - so we start conversing mainly in Spanish. This is good exercise for me. Pedro really is much older than his 23 years. He is a citizen of the world but as a drawback he mentions that he is not really at home anywhere. His mother is Greek and he has a large family there. However, he speaks no Greek. I also meet many other people, some of whom I already know from the road. Among them are Agnes and Lauren from Brisbane. She is abroad for the first time but seems now fully adjusted to the international community of the Camino.
On Tuesday, March 31, I continue through the fertile and green valley of El Bierzo to Villafranca
a del Bierzo. There is a lot of wine growing along the way. I talk with an elderly couple taking care of their own vinyard. Their daughter (in her smart business uniform) drops them to the field on her way to work (and probably picks them up in the evening). They appear to be very happy, working together on their own land. The landscape is varying and snow-capped mountains are visible in the south. This is one of the most beautiful parts of the Camino. In Villafranca I choose the albergue Ave Fenix run by an elderly man named Jesus. This is a wonderful place, with carvings, decorations, and artifacts of all kinds. There is a very good spirit in the place. For a small fee I get a good dinner and breakfast in the albergue. This is one of the few places not serving wine or beer but the food is very good. Here I meet Caroline again (she has arrived on the bus, because of her sore knee) and Garreth from Lancashire. Also Philip is staying here.
On Wednesday, April 1, I set out for O'Cebreiro - the first village in Galicia (the last one of the provinces through which the Camino passes). My guide book describes this segment as "el Camino duro - der harte Weg". For the first time I choose the easier low road for the first part of the day's journey (from Villafranca to Trabadelo), in order to save my strength for the very demanding afternoon. From Trabadelo (at 578 m) the Camino climbs up to O'Cebreiro (at 1250 m). On the road I stop at the Brazilian albergue, where the hospitalera is singing and dancing samba while working. Peter and Angelique from Germany join me for a drink outide, in nice half shade. The 3 km from Hospital Inglés to La Faba is very steep and rough. In the middle of the climb I meet a German aquintance who has sat down by the roadside and cannot go on. There is still about 5 hours of daylight and other people are coming after me - so there is no real worry. Close to La Faba I meet Agnes who has blisters in her feet and is quite exhausted. Together we continue the last few hundred meters and she decides to stay at La Faba. By the albergue I meet Dan and John, who are staying too. I have a well deserved beer at a local bar and continue to O'Cebreiro. The road is still rather steep but a lot easier than before. Also, the weather is very favorable. Well before dark I arrive at O'Cebreiro, which is quite beautiful but rather touristic. There is a large albergue with dozens of people sharing the same dormitory. Here I (for the first time) run into large groups of school kids. The dormitory is kind of restless and in the morning the air is very thick. We have dinner with the German Klaus and his 15-year-old son Torben. Soon Garreth and a Korean guy that I know from Villafranca join us.
On Thursday, April 2, I leave O'Cebreiro for Samos. Samos is a bit off the main route but the road is said to be more beautiful and Samos is one of the largest, oldest, and best preserved monastries in Spain. The way from O'Cebreiro to Triacastela is rather steep and rough. On the way I pass the pilgrim statue that pilgrims have the habit of hugging. A Triacastela the road branches. The road to Samos follows the Sarria river but is nevertheless rather steep. The river valley is deep and every time the road changes from one side of the river to another you have to make quite a walk - first down and then back up. Both Samos and the road to it are beautiful. Around the monastery there is a little village with a few supermarkets, bars, and restaurants. The albergue is in the monastery. The hospitalero is a man about 60 years of age and he hugs every guest on arrival. There is a German couple with their 13-year-old son, another German woman, Philip, and the Norwegian woman Björg, who is doing the Camino in segments and is now doing the last one. We attend the mass, which is quite different from that in Estella. There are seven priests, seven monks, one novice, seven pilgrims, and the hospitalero attending. Most of the mass is sung, usually in two voices, mainly in Spanish and partly in Latin, and we are handed the words. I soon pick up the medieval tune and start to sing along together with the hospitalero. This is actually quite fun and I notice that I understand the text. This time I am served the communion without any questions asked. When we return to the albergue, the boy is missing. We search for him everywhere, until he is found at the quarters of the monks. The hospitalero pulls me aside and says that since I am the only one in the group who understands Spanish, he wants to explain to me a few things. He then tells me what to do in various situations, if something should happen at night in his absence. I find this a bit amusing because only three weeks earlier I didn't know any Spanish. However, I understand what he says and am glad to be of assistance. We then have a good dinner together. The Germans mainly speak German and we have our own discussion with Björg, who has converted into Catholicism, in Scandinavian. Part of the time we all speak English. During our dinner two Polish women have arrived. I have been wondering where all the Norwegians and Poles are hiding - now I have met representatives of both. Samos was rather primitive but very cordial - certainly one of the best places where I stayed on the Camino. I would recommend that anyone feeling up to it would take this short detour.
On Friday, April 3, I set out at 8 a.m. (just before sunrise) for Portomarin. The morning is foggy and the fog almost condenses to rain. My fleece gets wet but it is not actually raining. The Camino separates from the main road and goes up and down along the side of the valley. The distance to Sarria is indicated as 12 km but I spend 4 hours on it. This includes the time to buy some groceries and a memory card for my camera in Sarria but there still is no way the distance can be right - it has to be something between 15 and 20 km. The 12 km is only possible along the road. The detour via Samos has added at least 10 km to my trip and I have no paid back the 5 - 6 km bus trip in Burgos (actually, I already paid it walking around in Burgos). Portomarin is a town, where Franco sunk the old strand boulevard and large parts of the town under water and a new town was built higher up. A long and straight bridge leads across the river. This bridge cannot be recommended to anybody with a serious vertigo. On the way I run into two young lads (about 25 years old) from Madrid. They insist on buying me a beer. They get to practice their English on me and when they get tired I practice my Spanish on them. They estimate my age to be about 30 (it really is 51). The Camino has made me look younger but probably the main reason for their bad estimate is my blondness, which makes me look unlike the people they know. I keep running into these guys several times during the rest of the trip and they prove to be fine young men. In Portomarin we have a hard time finding the albergue and we get to make a tour of the city while searching for it. The albergue is almost full, mainly with school kids. Next to the albergue I hear singing from a bar - obviously I go in. There are about a dozen local men (between 30 and 80 years of age). One of them is singing tangos and the old man is covering his ears with his hands and asking the man to stop. The man sings: "Oh how I suffer..." (in Spanish). I tell the old man that he seems to be suffering too, which makes him almost choke into his drink. He wasn't expecting this from a foreigner and finds it very amusing. I discuss the Camino, my motivations for doing it, etc. with the bartender, and he tells me that he would like to do it to. I leave the bar receiving wishes for "Buen Camino" from everybody.
On Saturday, April 4, I start at 8 a.m. heading for Palas de Rei. It is raining and I have to wear my GoreTex coat. The trip is not too long but I am rather exhausted by the time I reach my destination. I decide to stay at a hotel in order to dry my clothes and get a good night's sleep without a large crowd of school kids. Actually, these school kids are quite nice. They answer politely when I say hello to them, and most of the girls have really beautiful smiles. However, when there is a large concentration of them in the same dormitory, the night easily becomes restless. My right knee has started to bother me (an old injury from jiu-jitsu training) and I buy a bandage for it. I goe to a pharmacy and ask for "binda elastica". I am immediately give exactly what I wanted and the text on the box confirms that I have guessed its name right. This is what I like about the Spanish language: you describe what you need in the most simple terms possible - and usually that is the right name for it.
On Sunday, April 5, I continue to Arzua. It is raining most of the day. I don't really mind because it is this rain that keeps Galicia so green. I am in the greenest part of Spain and it looks really nice. In Arzua I decide to stay in an inexpensive hostel - for the same reasons as in Palas de Rei. In the evening, I am trying to find an open supermarket to get something to eat. It is Sunday and all the shops are closed. I then start looking for a restaurant to have a quick bite in. When I step into one, I run into Philip. Whe have both arrived at the same restaurant at the same moment. We are very happy to see each other and sit down to have drink while waiting for the dinner time to start (it usually starts at 8 p.m., which is kind of late for a pilgrim). We discuss our respective Caminos and conclude that they have met and exceeded our expectations. We agree that everybody makes their own Camino - the Camino really only gives you the framework and it is up to you what you make out of it. Philip sees a few girls he knows and we join together for a dinner. There is Dana from Alaska and two German girls from Rheinland. Dana has dread locks like I have never seen before - they are blond and like felt. She says they are natural - that is what her hair becomes if she does nothing to it (except wash). We anticipated a quite dinner on our own and ended up having a lively conversation. After the dinner, I am about to hug Philip but he hugs me first.
Monday, April 6, it is raining and I decide to continue all the way to Santiago de Compostela on the same day. The distance is 41 km, which is OK. At about half-way (after 19 km) I meet some people that I know. Among them are Carmen from Valencia and some elder German men. I have not talked much with Carmen but her red umbrella has cheered me up many times on the road. Unlike most Spaniards, she is mainly walking alone. She walks slower than I but keeps shorter breaks - therefore I get to take her over half a dozen times per day and it feels like we know each other quite well by now. The Germans are telling me that there is an albergue just a little bit away, down the hill. I smile happily and tell them that I am going to continue all the way to Santiago. They leave before me and I don't see them for a while (partly because I have to drop by a pharmacy again). After two hours, I reach Carmen and the men on the top of a hill - they have decided to continue too. The rain has just stopped (temporarily) and we even get a few rays of the sun. 12 km before Santiago I have lunch at a small restaurant close to the airport. There I meet the guys from Madrid again. They are in a happy mood - having emptied a few bottles of beer and a bottle of wine. They are too tipsy to speak English and the language becomes Spanish. I too order a lunch with wine. After it they want to treat me with orujo con herbes (a local sweet drink, spiced with herbs). We joke that the remaining 12 km will become 20, as we'll be zigzagging from one side of the road to the other. Our hostess finds this funny.
My knee starts really hurting me towards the end of the journey. From Monte do Gozo (Mountain of Joy) I can only see the outskirts of Santiago - not the Cathedral. The final descent is a tough one and I am limping. When I cross the city border, I still have about 4 km to go. This is very tedious walk, where the city just seems to be continuing for ever. Finally I arrive to the old town, which is really pittoresque. There I find the Cathedral, and right next to it the Pilgrims' office. My hotel is right across the street and a very nice place. I have an attic room, with old wooden beams and a roof window. From the window I can se the tower of the cathedral and the old tiled roofs of the city.
I have completed this 800 km journey on foot in 27 days, including the first day, which started rather late, and the one day of rest in Leon. This is quite OK for a middle-aged man in bad shape and with over-weight. I spread my things and am happy that I can stay in one plays for three nights, without having to pack and leave every morning.
I still have to visit the Pilgrims' office to get my Compostela. I also want to take a bus to Fisterra - the end of the world.
I'll tell something more about this in my next post.
