Thursday, June 7, 2012
Queridos amigos,
The last two days have been hard going. Steep ascents and descents, rain and wind, toes in open revolt. But more than compensated for by stunning vistas, birdsong, wildflowers, human encounters.
I began Wednesday with the climb to O'Cebreiro, described by my Camino guru as "a killer." Absolutely the hardest climb yet. Rather steep, terribly rocky, and very long.
Beginning the Ascent to O'Cebreiro
But I'm now in Galicia, where the weather is cooler, rain more frequent, wind stiffer. The path of the climb led through moss covered stone walls and trees, and when the spirit flagged, along came a European robin, two feet away from me, to lead the way.
My scholarly army friend says that when the English first started to settle in America, they noticed a bird with a breast similar to the color of the neck band of the robin they knew at home. So they called it a robin too, and this is how the American robin got its name.
I am not a strong climber, and had to take several breaks. At one, there was a slight clearing on the side of the path which kept me out of the way of traffic. As I started up again I saw the path filled with large horned animals coming toward me. I scurried back to my clearing as 5 large cows, two dogs, and a herder passed by.
Oncoming Traffic on the Ascent to O'Cebreiro
The end of the climb was O'Cebreiro, the end of a day's hike for most climbers. They were stretched out around town, some with toes in pitiable shape. I stopped for lunch.
As I walked into town, I heard lively Celtic music being played. Stopped into the gift shop from which the music came and asked if it were Irish. No, the clerk said, it was local. So I bought the CD and a few other mementos.
Visited the grave of Don Elias Valiña Sampedro. There were many handsome memorials to him in addition to his tombstone. More than any other man, this parish priest is responsible for the growth of the Camino. It was his bright idea to mark every decision point with a yellow arrow. If those arrows disappeared tomorrow, it would not be long before northern Spain was littered with skeletons wearing boots and backpacks.
There was a lively pilgrim presence in O'Cebreiro. But I had made a reservation some 8 or 9 miles ahead, so I pressed on. There was no one else on the path. Over the next few hours I caught glimpse of one pilgrim far away; that was it.
The wind was much stiffer and colder. Then it began to rain. Trees bent over, a field of what looked like miniature daisies raked by the wind. Egdon heath on a bad day. All alone in this wild, beautiful landscape. Really exhilarating.
But still three and a half miles from my destination, I was spent. As I climbed up a hill I saw a man in an orange windbreaker, no pack, just admiring the view. It was Simon. He and Brenda had arrived earlier and had checked into the albergue there. Also in this tiny spot on the road was a hostal. Did they have room for one more? They did. I checked in and asked that they notify the Casa Quiroga that I would have to cancel for the night. They did, and said it was no big deal.
Surprised to find 4 blisters, one as big as a jelly bean. Curious that they are starting to appear at this stage of the Camino.
At the hostal bar, after cleaning up, I order a caña and olives. No olives. Peanuts? None. The bartender says he will fix something special. It is a piece of meat and two small slices of bread. He asks what I think it is. I guess ox. No, it is an antelope that he had shot. He points to a photo on the wall of some dozen hunters, including him.
I go across the street to see if Simon or Brenda is stirring. Simon is at the bar; he said they had already eaten.
So I invite myself to sit with the English woman who showed me her rash and her three French friends; the Gang of Four, I call them. I ask about the rash. It is gone. The woman introduces herself as Sue, the others as Vivi (Vvian), Liddy, and Lydia. Talk turns to the next day when there will be a big fork in the road. Take the main route to Sarria or take the longer route to Samos, home of the biggest monastery in Spain and one of the oldest in the world? We all agreed on Samos.
Went to sleep with the wind shrieking and the rain beating against my window. It was so cold I wore several layers to bed, including my gloves and, since my knitted wool cap had disappeared, my boina. First time I've slept in a boina, but it had the effect of ironing all of the wrinkles out of it.
Next morning, nothing has changed outside. Just pouring rain. Everybody suits up and once again I am grateful to have good rain gear. The wind is strong and cold but within a few hours, the temperature rises and the rain stops. A young man comes abreast of me. He is from Ireland, where he works in sales for Coca-Cola. He says the Irish talk about their island being the 51st state because there are so many U.S. companies operating there. He started in Astorga, and only has about 8 days to walk, which should take him to Santiago.
He pressed on and I stopped at a cafe for coffee and a banana.
The day and the scenery grew more beautiful. Occasionally sunshine broke through the clouds to illuminate a tiny village far away on a mountain side. Nice fragrances from the flowers. Once it seemed I was surrounded by mountain laurels, another time by gardenias. Long stone fences, covered with lichen and moss, picturesque views of crumbling villages.
Country Road
At a country cemetery, I left a lock.
There were other pilgrims on the road including the Gang of Four from France.
The Samos monastery is a Benedictine monastery, built in the seventh century, even before the body of St. James was found. That is to say, it predates the pilgrimage route.
Large and handsome, much was destroyed in a fire in 1951 but rebuilt. Now 14 monks live there. At it's peak, some 90 were resident. In the 12th century, there were nuns.
My Hotel has a Nice Look to it, and it’s Across the Street from the Monastery
I hand my laundry to the barmaid and go for the monastery tour and vespers, sung in Gregorian chant. The Irishman and two of the French women are there. When I return for dinner, the barmaid hands me a bag of clean clothes. There is a computer near my table, which I'm sitting at now.
A sign in the hotel dining room: “Samos in the Camino de Santiago --
More than 1000 years of giving refuge to pilgrims.” Here, Monks Care for the Feet and the Sick.
Lot of unrest because of the financial situation. I read in the papers that miners in Leon overturned trucks in the middle of the road and set them afire to block traffic.
A Curious Graffito
The most challenging walks are behind me now. The looming challenge is social. Sarria, my next stop, is only 115 kilometers from Santiago. To get a Compostella certificate, you have to walk at least 100 kilometers. So this is where those seeking a Camino Lite experience start. Their name is legion. Tour buses empty here, great crowds of students appear, there is more noise and more litter. There was talk of building a Camino theme park here. Once, a figure of Mickey Mouse dressed in a Camino costume welcomed pilgrims.
My Camino guru said it really is the end of the spiritual aspect to the Camino. My guidebook advises against feel outraged by the thundering herd invading "my Camino." I try to console myself with the parable of the workers in the field, where the guys who signed on just before closing time get paid the same as those who have been toiling since daybreak.
But it does seem like setting the bar so low reduces the value of the Compostela . I would suggest Pamplona as the closest starting point to receive a certificate.
Although the trail is not too demanding, it’s beautiful.
By the way, Galicia is Celtic. Many of the people look Irish, and you see the O' prefix before many names. As Susan and I walked into Santiago de Compostela 13 years ago, the first music we heard was bagpipes.
All the tourist information I have seen so far is written in Gallego (also called Galician or Galego), which is a kind of Portuguese Spanish. X's replace J's. When the Spanish authorities put up a sign with a J, the local talent paints an X through it. Gallego also does away with the first letter L in the definite article. Thus, La Coruña becomes A Coruña. Where the authorities have dared put up a sign with La, the local talent paints out the L.
And that's it for tonight.
Un abrazo para todos,
John
The Monastery at Samos
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