Tag Archives: The Way

Camino Postcard 37: Finisterre

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18-20.5.19
We left Santiago not long after midday and arrived in Finisterre at around three o’clock. It had been a pleasant enough journey for me, but one to be forgotten for Ellena and Carolin – both suffered travel sickness on the way to the coast and back again.

When we arrived, the skies were blue and we had time to pop into a nearby restaurant for lunch. We had booked an apartment for the weekend. It was only a mile or so up the road but once our lunch was over, we were only too happy to jump in a taxi to get there.

Hiccup No. 1 took place when we arrived at the garage café opposite the apartment to not find the flat owner’s representative waiting for us with the key. No problem, let’s sit down and have a coffee. So, we did.

While we wait, I’ll tell you about the above photograph. It’s the same cross – with the crucifixion on one side, and our Our Lady and the Christ child on the other. The Incarnation in all its glory.

Once the flat owner’s representative arrived, we settled into the apartment. It was a clean, nicely furnished place. However, this didn’t stop Hiccup No. 2 from now happening: there was no WiFi. Where’s it? I text messaged the flat owner. There isn’t any, he wrote back, but there is lots to do in Finisterre: there’s a medieval church, there’s this, there’s that, there’s the other!

Right. Dude. Duude. Sit down. Ellena, Carolin and I bow to no one in our love of medieval churches and this, that, and indeed the other but if we pay good money for a modern apartment we expect there to be WiFi. There’s a time to visit medieval churches, and there’s a time to use the internet.

Seriously, though, while the lack of WiFi didn’t ruin our weekend, it was a big surprise to find that there was none. For this reason, and this reason alone, I would not go to the same apartment again if I revisited Finisterre (which I hope to do – see below).

To conclude the Great Matter of the Absent WiFi – you may be wandering why it was such an issue; surely we could have just used our mobile phone’s normal data plan. I could, and did, but Ellena and Carolin didn’t have any data on theirs so they relied on WiFi to be able to use their devices. So that they could use their phones, they tethered them to mine. That solved the problem until we got back to Santiago where, mercifully, the apartment we stayed in did have WiFi!

Once we had recovered from the shock of no WiFi, we decided to hit the beach. Our apartment nearly backed onto it with only a bit of scrubland separating us. To get there, we had to go down to the basement car park and out the back door. Easier said than done. We didn’t quite get lost in the (empty) car park but the door leading to the scrubland was not easy to find! You’re going to have to trust me on this one. It was all very awks.

Once we found our way out of the basement, we crossed the scrub, got stung by nettles and found the beach. There, we had fun paddling and trying to avoid the broken shells. Ouch.

As you can see in the above photos, I tried to get arty again. Am I looking at a sand cliff? (Please say yes). No, they are just the walls of a runnel – three or four inches high. I put my phone next to the sand wall, clicked and hoped for a decent photo!

Our weekend was largely spent relaxing at home or visiting the beach, either to paddle or bath or collect shells. Along the way, I went on a food run. While visiting one of the waterfront restaurants to order a pizza a man said hello to me. Oh dear; I don’t recognise him. He knew me, though: we met in Zubiri (see this post and ignore the wholly ill advised bit about Top Nazis. Heh.). He still remembered how I had had to ditch the two books I had brought with me! We had a nice chat while I waited for the pizza.

From the moment when Ellena suggested that we come to Finisterre to celebrate the end of our Camino, I had been very keen on the idea: it meant that I would be able to visit Muxia, where The Way ends. On Saturday, I wandered into town to check the bus schedule. Unfortunately, there was a restricted service and it looked like I had missed today’s bus. To make matters worse, tomorrow’s schedule was not much better – there was no direct bus to Muxía. To get there, I would have to go to someplace else, change buses then head on my way.

I think it was as soon as I saw that a change was necessary that I thought to myself, you know what, not this time; let’s leave it until next time I am here; it gives me an additional reason to come back. I just want to relax and not be bothered about planning anything.

So, I stayed in Finisterre; although, I didn’t entirely relax. On Sunday, instead of going to Muxía, I took a walk to the lighthouse at the end of the end of the world.

The lighthouse is about four kilometres north of the centre of Finisterre, and the path runs uphill along the side of the road on one side, and a deep drop into a cliffside wood on the other. That Sunday, it was a burningly hot day.

By Camino standards, the walk was short and not too strenuous; after 36 days of walking, though, I doubt my legs thanked me for putting them through one last exercise.

Presently, however, I arrived at my destination. Ahead of me, a car park, then, a souvenir shop; further on, a hotel, then the lighthouse.

The lighthouse was closed, but you could walk round it to the very last piece of land before the Americas and look out over the sea while standing next to the last Camino memorial stone.

In the above photograph, the boots sit on the memorial stone (there is a cross out of sight to its left). The dolphin is back along the path, on the way to the hotel. The land you can see is further down the coast.

Having said a prayer for the man to whom the stone was dedicated, and taken a moment to admire the view, I withdrew to the nearby hotel bar.

Drinking that beer, in that place, in that weather, after that Camino was a most wonderful experience.

But soon, it was time to return to the flat. The walk back to Finisterre was downhill. Between that and the beer inside me it was a whole lot more pleasant a walk than the way up!

On Monday morning, we left the apartment and walked/hobbled back down the road to the bus stop. It was another sunny day and the coach was rather too warm for long journeys. This compounded Ellena’s and Carolin’s travel sickness. All I can say here is that at least they felt better afterwards.

I don’t know when or if I will get the chance to walk the Camino Francés again. That’ll completely depend on time, health and money. In the meantime, what I would certainly like to do is walk from Santiago to Finisterre to Muxía and then back to Santiago again. This pilgrimage would take about a week or ten days at most. As I write these words, I’m hoping this will be my 2020 pilgrimage. Time and the good Lord will tell.

Camino Postcard 36: Brea to Santiago de Compostela

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16-17.5.19

The last day of our Camino! Joy and sadness intertwined.

After paying the dinner bill (see yesterday’s post), we set off from the pensión. There were no cafés in Brea itself – or at least, none that we saw – so we kept walking until we found a bar a couple of kilometres up the road. Afterwards, and admittedly not for the first time, I briefly considered a career as an action photographer:

We walked along the roadside and came to a hut with incense burning on a small table. A sign there proclaimed a great truth:

Sometimes a simple moment of joy is all we need to remember how lucky we are

Well, we can debate whether we are lucky, blessed or whatever but either way the sentiment is a good one.

On the table was a stamp for our pilgrim passports; we stamped ours before inhaling the incense one last time and heading on our way.

This morning, we met more doggos. Ellena greeted them happily. If Dogbook existed, she would have so many friends by now. The second time we saw a dog its mother watched on from a distance as she went about her work.

It was an overcast day and soon enough, rain started to fall. Off came the backpacks and out came their rain covers.

We stopped for lunch 15 kilometres from Santiago, at a place called Amenal. One thing I regret about the Camino is not making a record of all the non-pilgrim meals that we ate. There were one or two really nice ones. The café-bar we stopped at today comes into that category. The pizza was nice; really nice! If you walk the Camino past Amenal, look out for the café-bar that has the round ‘Kilometro 15’ sign outside it. That’s the place to go to for good food.

We continued – by the roadside, and then into woods. The road followed us, and it gave us an opportunity to remember an earlier event. In my first blog post in this series, I wrote this,

During the afternoon, I saw two pilgrims taking a break by a roadside crash barrier. A good idea! I wanted to do the same there and then but didn’t want to invade their space or stop so close that they could see I was copying them. Even when exhausted, propriety reigns! So, I walked a little further on and took out my bar of chocolate. Dear reader, I don’t think I ever enjoyed food more!

Day 1: St Jean Pied de Port to Roncesvalles

The two pilgrims, of course, were Ellena and Carolin. The woodland road we were now walking alongside also had a crash barrier beside it. So, with the Valcarlos Route in mind, we stopped and took photographs of us all resting on the barrier – this time, together.

Carolin and I:

Me and Ellena:

It was a fun moment!

Once the photos were done, we moved on – onwards and upwards through the woods.

There is a scene in the film Inception when Ariadne (Ellen Page) – while in a dream state – makes a Parisian street bend upwards until it is directly above herself and Cobb (Leonardo Decaprio). As we came out of the woods, we saw a road climb so sharply that it too seemed to be intent on curving backwards over us. I was not overjoyed at the prospect of climbing it, but, as Ellena said, when you get closer to roads like this, they never go up as sharply as they appear. Thankfully, this proved to be the case.

We got to the top. Although it hadn’t been as bad as it looked, we – I – still needed a rest and so we dived into a café a bit further on. Here, we were hit by an influx of pilgrims (TPs looking for toilets) for the first time since the Portomarín to Palas de Rei road.

We continued on our way. We passed Santiago airport and tried not to think about the fact that in a week’s time, we would be saying goodbye to each other there. The rain was falling more heavily now. Just past the airport, we dived into a bar as much to escape the rain as for a drink. We were now just 12 kilometres from Santiago.

It was still raining when we left the bar but we pushed on nonetheless. In time, we came out of the woods, left the last village behind and arrived at the Monte del Gozo. Here, we looked out for the statues of the two Arriving Pilgrims.

I had been eager to see the statues ever since I watched Martin Sheen and co walk up to them in The Way. We almost missed them, however, as the road was a little distance away from the statues’ location. Actually, it was so far that we only just spotted them in the near distance.

Something else that didn’t help is the fact that in the film (released in 2010), the statues appear to be on an unkempt hill whereas the Monte del Gozo now is a very well landscaped park.

Our first actual sight of Santiago came while we were still on the road but our first ‘official’ pilgrim view came with the statues. Here’s what we saw.

You can just see the spires of Santiago cathedral in the centre of the photo – our destination! After thirty-six days and so many kilometres, we were almost there.

Almost, but not quite, and not today.

Today, we headed off to the town’s east end where the apartment we had booked was located. There, Ellena and Carolin rested while I went in search of a supermarket for provisions.

17.5.19
The reason we didn’t go to the cathedral yesterday was because it was about four kilometres from our flat. Having walked 25 kilometres yesterday, we were happy to go to the cathedral tomorrow; or rather, today.

After packing our backpacks up, we closed the apartment door and started the final part of the journey. We left early – before nine o’clock to allow plenty of time to get the compostelas before we had to catch the coach to Finisterre, which was scheduled to leave Santiago at midday. As we knew that there might be a queue at the pilgrims’ office for the compostela, we reckoned to get there early – between nine and ten AM – so that we had plenty of time to pick up our compostelas before leaving town.

That was the plan. It didn’t work out like that.

We arrived at the cathedral square. I have to admit, doing so was an underwhelming experience. We were here. We had finished. Well done us? Yes, but now we have to go to the pilgrims’ office. No time to waste – we should have left the apartment earlier; the bus leaves at midday and ten o’clock is already drawing on.

We came, we saw, we left sharpish. So much so that I was only able to take a two or three photographs of the cathedral. I didn’t worry, though; there would be plenty of time to take more when we returned on Monday.

We found the pilgrims’ office and joined the queue in the courtyard outside. It was another cloudy day and soon the weather turned on us. Fortunately, it was only very light rain and within a few minutes we were at the doors to the corridor leading towards the reception where the compostelas were being issued.

We stepped over the threshold into the building and— stopped. Stopped. The minutes passed. No movement. More time passed. Still no movement. I checked my phone. It was somewhere past ten o’clock. We still had time but only if the queue started moving. Steady progress would do. If the queue was going to be like this the rest of the way, though, we would miss the bus.

While we waited, I went onto the Camino Pilgrim Discussion Group on Facebook and asked if it was possible to pick up one’s compostela any time after today. I quickly learnt that it was. When I told Ellena and Carolin this, we agreed to leave the queue and come back on Tuesday – at opening time. I didn’t know if I would receive an answer from the CPDG and was so very grateful when I did – if you are interested in any of the Camino routes and are on Facebook, I thoroughly recommend the Camino Pilgrim Discussion Group to you. The people there are friendly and always ready to offer help and advice to any who ask.

We had intended to walk to the bus station but time was now against us. So, we took a taxi instead. At the bus station, we tried to work out how to buy a ticket for the coach to Finisterre. Very fortuitously, we met Ellena’s American friend Buddy (man not dog) who was was just returning from the coast. He put us on the right track and soon we were on our way.

Just like that, then, we left Santiago. Our Camino was over. Now, we were – what? Recovering former pilgrims? Plain old tourists? Something in-between? If you are thinking about doing the Camino be warned! Once you become a pilgrim, I don’t think you ever stop. I don’t think you can. The spirit of the Camino becomes a part of you; the experience of it is tattooed onto your spirit. This is certainly what I have found since returning home on 23rd May. I am only a former walker. I am still, though, a pilgrim, searching for meaningfulness, for an authentic way to live, for God. I am searching for the Camino in my life at home. I haven’t forgotten the Camino Francés, though. Far from it. How I would love to be back there! I think a part of me still is; walking the Way in the shadow and shade, and always will. I would very much like to walk the French route again. Whether I will or not is in God’s hands. If I do not, I shall try my best to not mind too much – as Newman says, He knows what He is about – but instead, live with gratitude for the Camino that I did undertake, and finished on 17th May 2019.

Camino Postcard 17: Población de Campos to Carrión de los Condes

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27.4.19
Day Five on the Meseta

We left La Finca behind and began walking. It was another hot day, and Población was another sleepy Spanish town. Spaniards simply do not do mornings.

Further up the road, we stopped at a café-albergue that promised ‘Paradise Without WiFi’. I’d love to be able to speak approvingly of this, of how good it was to be freed from the chains of communication but I’m neither a hipster or a hippie and love my WiFi so can’t.

This café-albergue was certainly a paradise for hippies and hipsters – it has very ramshackle, had a farm attached (I saw some cute asses there; now let’s talk about the donkeys frnarrrrrr) and the rooms were tents. They weren’t called tents but had a particular hippy name that I can’t remember.

Anyway, it was also a very friendly environment. Inside the café itself, pilgrims were encouraged to leave messages on the side of the counter or on the wall. Many had done so. So did I. I could have written an appropriately inspirational message but instead chose to write something facetious about Alexander the Great that nobody but me would understand and which thankfully I forgot to photograph.

While at the café, we met George from Seattle. He was in good spirits despite the fact that his husband had given up on the Camino and returned home – walking was not for him.

Tony had left La Finca ahead of us so at this point, and indeed until we arrived in Carrión, it was just Ellena, Carolin and myself together.

We left Paradise Without WiFi and continued up the road. The Meseta continued to roll by. Our path took us along the roadside and we saw a sign saying ‘Santiago 464 [km]’ which meant that we had now walked about half distance from St Jean Pied de Port to Santiago. As I think I mentioned before, despite being called the French Route, the start of this particular Way is regarded by the Spanish as being at Roncesvalles, which meant that we would not receive our halfway compostelas until we arrived in the town of Sahagun in three days time.

Upon a moment we arrived in Carrión de los Condes, and there we checked in at an albergue in a former (?) covent. The dorms at the Espiritu Santo were named after the continents and contained single beds – no bunks again, which sore legs greatly appreciated. I slept under a beautiful wood icon of Our Lady (below), which more than made up for the cheesier Catholic artworks in the vicinity.

To its credit, the Espiritu Santo had a chapel, although it was no more than an altar and cushions. However, the Blessed Sacrament was reserved there, which immediately made it the most important place in the building.

After ditching our backpacks and showering down, we went out for a beer. I lost over a stone walking the Camino yet still drank beer every day. No wonder I enjoyed myself so much.

To celebrate the fact that we had, or were about to, walk half distance we took a stroll into town to buy a congratulatory present for ourselves. Ellena and Carolin chose matching bracelets. I bought the necklace that you can see below in imitation of the one that Martin Sheen’s character wears at the end of The Way.

While in Carrión we met Tony again. On his recommendation, we ate tea/dinner at a fish restaurant. On the way there, he had to make a pitstop at the local pharmacy to get help for his poor blistered foot. Tony is a powerful walker but it’s amazing that he could walk at all on that foot. The blister was huge and, of course, open.

Afterwards, we strolled happily back to the Espiritu Santo. In the large courtyard there we met a certain someone smoking a joint. Well, I suppose a religious house is a place for ecstasies.

Camino Postcard 4: Pamplona to Puente la Reina

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The Camino Begins Again

14.4.19. Saying goodbye to Pamplona, I left the city via the campus of Navarra university. Along the way I saw a tap, and considered taking water from it but as there wasn’t a sign saying agua potable – water drinkable – I didn’t. This was me being super cautious. But did I need to be? After all, if the water was not potable there would certainly be a sign saying so, wouldn’t there? On the other hand, I later heard from one or two other pilgrims, some nasty stories about the taps and illnesses caught from them. I never reached a firm conclusion but as I never drank from a tap after Zubiri I guess I had already made my mind up.

So, I tramped along the side of the road with a bottle half empty. Ahead of me lay hills crowned with wind turbines. They would be a constant and distant companion for some days to come. Today, my path would take me past them and to the top of the alto del Perdón – the Mount of Forgiveness. For a while, the path rose only slightly but as I approached the hamlet of Cizur Minor, the steeper upward climb began and with a couple of breaks never let up until I had reached the top of the alto. Having shed weight from my backpack in Zubiri and Pamplona, however, I found the going easier than expected.

I was a happy walker today – the alto del Perdón features in The Way and so I couldn’t wait to reach the famous sculptures at the summit and walk in the footsteps of Martin Sheen and co. Onwards I marched… until I flagged and paused to take a break.

I stopped briefly in a couple of places. Firstly, at a little plateau where a kind pilgrim took the photograph of me that (I hope) you can see to the left of this text. The photo gives just a hint of the wonderful view we had of Pamplona and the surrounding countryside.

My next stopping point was at the wonderfully named Zariquiegui. Here, I stepped into a church and got my pilgrim passport stamped and then bought some more water in the local shop. There is an albergue in Zariquiegui and as I gulped down my drink, pilgrims sat outside it, enjoying the sun and eating brunch. I tried to go in to the albergue to get another stamp but it was busy and not very big inside. As I didn’t want to hit anyone with my backpack, I made a tactical retreat.

The path wound on. Two or three weeks later I read of an American pilgrim who died on it. Requiescat in Pace. I don’t know why he died but if it was of a heart attack I think he must have brought his death with him. The path to the top of the alto was good exercise, but not especially strenuous. Perhaps the American pilgrim had a condition that was provoked by that exercise, as ‘easy’ as it was. It is a very sobering thought to think that we might be carrying around within ourselves the seeds of our deaths. Say a prayer for him and all pilgrims who have, or will, die on the Way. They die doing well before the Lord.

I reached the top of the alto. After purchasing an energy drink from a van-café I sat down to drink and enjoy the sculptures. Here is a lovely blog post about them.

By the time I arrived at the top of the alto, there were already pilgrims there. Pilgrims were coming and going all the time. I really wanted someone to take a photograph of me beside the sculptures. Who could I ask?

Two young women arrived and sat down. I recognised them. They were the friends I had met on the first day, resting against the crash barrier. One of them was very attractive. Ask them, I told myself. I didn’t. Too shy. Well, then, try not to look at them; it’s rude and they might notice. Okay.

Presently, someone asked me to take a photo of them so that gave me the opportunity to ask if they could return the favour.

After resting, I walked around taking in the atmosphere. Nearby was a police car. I asked the officers if I could photograph its badge. I’m not sure they understood me but they let me. I was keen to do so because, as you can see above, it incorporates the Roman fasces into the design.

I can’t remember if I mentioned this before but in case not, the fasces – which was a bundle of wood and an axe bound together – was the symbol of the ancient Roman Lictors. They would carry the bound wood when walking with the consuls for whom they acted as bodyguards. My heart belongs to Alexander the Great but my before I ‘discovered’ him, I lived in ancient Rome so its always a joy seeing anything that reminds me of those days.

On leaving the alto del Perdón I descended a path that for its first third was comprised of loose stones. It was very treacherous – I nearly turned my ankle several times – so progress was slow. Along the way, my fleece fell from my backpack. Luckily, someone saw and handed it back.

Eventually, I reached the end of the section. (If the Spanish government ever decided to smooth that path out I would absolutely support it. It is the only Camino trail that I hated walking). Puenta la Reina was still 12 or so kilometres away but now the path was smoother and after the town of Uterga, more or less flat. The high point of this section of the walk was being passed by two horse riders and watching them as their horses trotted on.

I approached Puenta la Reina at some point in the mid-afternoon. I was tired and in need of rest. As a result, when I saw an albergue-hotel – the Jakue – at the edge of town, I ditched my original intention of going to the municipal albergue in the centre. The Jakue would do.

One man was in charge of checking the pilgrims in. Fortunately, there were only two people in front of me. And coincidentally, they were the two women I had seen at the crash barrier and alto. I don’t remember thinking much about them at the time. I was probably too tired. I sat down and waited to check in. Presently, it was my turn. One of the women asked me if I would like a beer. Oh, would I ever! I had walked 25 kilometres so a beer would be just what the doctor ordered (possibly; he might suggest water). I didn’t respond in quite that fashion. Instead, I said words to the effect, Thank you; that would be very kind. She bought me one, and invited me to sit with her and her friend. Thus, I met Ellena and Carolin, who, though we were walking a pre-determined path, changed the course of my Camino. As it happens, Ellena has started writing her own account of her Camino journey; you can read her blog here.

We drank and had a good chat before separating. That evening, the three of us ate together, too. In between times, I hand washed my clothes and spent too many euros trying to dry them. I should have hung them outside but it was now late in the afternoon and I did not like the idea of carrying damp clothes tomorrow. Unfortunately, some albergue dryers were not really up to the task of doing what they were made to do!

And that was my day. Quietly momentous.

Fear, Inc.

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III/III

The third of three posts today. The first post is here, and the second post is here.

So, yesterday, I said I had two fears about the Camino. What are they?

They are nothing terribly dramatic, so don’t get your hopes up.

The first is flying. Flying makes me nervous so I should never have watched all those You Tube videos of ‘plane crashes. If only they hadn’t been so informative – the ones I watched explained what happened and why; but still, I should probably have given them a pass.

The second is crossing the Pyrenees. This comes, ironically, from The Way. In the film, the reason why Martin Sheen’s Tom Avery undertakes the Camino is because his son, Daniel, died while walking it himself. And he died while crossing the Pyrenees. The film doesn’t explain specifically how Daniel dies, saying only that it was an accident after he was caught in a storm. I assume, therefore, that he slipped and cracked his head against a stone.

I have been told that the Pyrenees are nothing to worry about but I can’t help but wonder what will happen if the weather does close in. I have to remember though that, firstly, Daniel Avery is a fictional character, and secondly, while real people have died on the Camino, their stories are not mine. Just because x happened to them it won’t necessarily happen to me.