Matilde’s miracle - “the Camino is not exactly life changing”

Do you believe in miracles? On the Camino? Hmmmm...I’ve always been sceptical. Until now.

In August  I got an e mail from a film producer:

“Hello Mr. Walker, 

My name is Zachary and I’m an associate producer for a new series on History Channel about Miracles. In each episode we explore stories of people from around the world who have experienced, performed or witnessed a miraculous event and how it changed their lives. 

In my research I came across your blog on the Camino to Santiago de Compostela. We are planning on travelling to Santiago de Compostela and hoping to speak with people about their experiences on the Way of Saint James. It would be great to speak with you about some of the stories you've heard and written about on your blog. 

If you're interested in speaking with us could we set up a call or Skype chat for sometime next week?

Thanks very much and looking forward to speaking with you. 

Zachary Frank

Associate Producer

Saloon Media

T: (416)-786-9490

www.saloonmedia.com “

Looking back my reply positively dripped with scepticism:

“Hi Zachary
I´m happy to talk about this although entirely unsure of the miracle association!
Let me know when you want to call me or we can correspond.

John”

I’d forgotten about all of this when my friend and English pupil, Matilde, announced that she was going to walk the Camino. She’s a practical, no nonsense Santiago lass who is an historian by profession and when she can get a job she teaches. Like others in the 27% of the Spanish population who are unemployed Matilde has been out of work for some time.

I suppose it was because she had time on her hands and had been listening to me droning on about the Camino every time we met that her mind turned to the possibilities of travelling to St Jean Pied de Port and walking back to her home. This is rare as people from Santiago rarely ever walk to Santiago – they live there! Add to that the endless mockery of her 30-something friends in Santiago that she had joined “the sect” it took some courage for her to pack her rucksack and prepare to leave.

We did a couple of practice walks, from Padrón to Santiago on the last stage of the Camino Portuguese and from Sigȕeiro on the last stage of the Camino Inglés. She seemed to me to be a natural walker with an easy rhythm and pace and I knew if she took things easy in the early stages of the Camino Francés she’d be fine.   

To send her on her way in style I arranged a blessing for her as a surprise. Her family were there and it was an emotionally charged moment. They wouldn’t see her for over a month. Tears flowed when her mother presented her with her scallop shell and her father presented her walking stick. They were both duly blessed as was the pilgrim. The congregation applauded when the priest wished her the first of many “buen caminos” she would hear.

Off she went. Every three or four days she sent me a brief text telling me where she was and finished it with “no problems, no blisters”. Another said, “can’t sleep in the albergues, I am trying to avoid the crowds”. At times there was the odd typical pilgrim's photograph -we always photograph our shadows! 

The days went on with a few monosyllabic reports “scenery beautiful”, “weather excellent”.

Something niggled in my mind that perhaps she was not entirely embracing the Camino or it was not exactly what she thought it would be.

Eventually we spoke on one of these internet chat programmes. The conversation went like this:

“How is everything?” “Fine”, “But are you getting something out of it?” Then came the historic answer:

“The Camino is a very positive experience, John, but not exactly life changing”.

Truth to tell Matilde has been on my prayer list for a while. She’s young and talented and needs a job. She needs a chance to move her life on to another place. And so I was  mildly disappointed that the Camino I had raved about so much seemed to not be displaying the force which I felt particularly on my first camino.

A few days passed. “Matilde must be within reach of Santiago” I thought. Then I got a message. “John can you contact me urgently, there has been a miracle.”

I did and now report the facts:

In 2009 Matilde submitted her CV as a teacher to the local authority in Sarria. She heard nothing from them.

In September 2013 as she walked through the woods at Sarria her phone rang. It was the Director of Education. “Could she start teaching at a school in Sarria tomorrow?”

She did, and reported to the school 20 hours after she left the Camino. As she looked out of the classroom she was astonished to see pilgrims walking past. The school is on the Camino.

She had to quickly find an apartment as commuting from Santiago over 100 kms away is not an option. She found one which was ideal. It is right on the Camino and every morning Matilde follows the yellow arrows to school.

A miracle? I don’t know. Prayers answered – certainly.

“The camino is not a life changing experience” – she’ll never live that down!

 And I need to apologise to Zachary for my earlier lack of enthusiasm for the topic!

Walking every route

You know the feeling. You have arrived in Santiago after your pilgrimage. The friends you met on the camino have dispersed. Some have gone for flights home. Others have set off walking to Finisterre and Muxía. You are on your own and having visited the main churches and museums there isn’t a lot to do. Sometimes just sitting around taking in the atmosphere of Santiago is satisfaction enough. Sometimes though pilgrims wish they were still walking and their minds turn to what their next camino might be. I’ve certainly had this experience and over the last few weeks on my day off I have been exploring how to walk the last, or the last couple of stages of the main routes to Santiago. I’ve discovered that they are accessible by public transport and make an excellent one day walk. You don't need a guide book for the routes as they are all very well waymarked. I’ve also discovered there are other spectacular walks in and around Santiago which I will tell you more about in future.

Walking on the Camino Portuguese

This is simplicity itself. Get on your gear and take the train from Santiago to Pontevedra. This is a very beautiful medieval city which is worth exploring. Come on a Sunday and hear me playing the organ there! The route is well waymarked and you can walk the stage to Caldas de Reis – a distance of approximately 23 kms. There are regular buses back to Santiago from Caldas de Reis.

Pontevedra to Caldas de Reis:

Train or Bus to Pontevedra // 23 kms walk to Caldas // Bus back from Caldas

A second very accessible option is to walk from Caldas de Reis to Padrón. This stage is described by some as amongst the most beautiful of the whole route.  It starts in Caldas which is famed for its thermal baths which boast healing qualities. There is a public footbath for pilgrims. This stage is 19 kms.

Caldas de Reis to Padrón:

Bus from Santiago to Caldas de Reis // walk to 19 kms to Padrón // Train or bus back from Padrón

Finally on the Camino Portuguese is the last stage from Padrón to Santiago. The starting point is Padrón train station which is only a 20 train ride from Santiago. Simply turn Right on the platform alight onto (opposite the hotel) and walk straight ahead until you come to the church and the yellow arrows start. Or detour into town to try the famous pimientos de  Padrón.  Walk all the way back to your hostel in Santiago!
Padrón to Santiago: Train to Padrón // walk 19 kms back to Santiago

Exploring the Camino Francés

The odds are that you will have walked the Camino Francés and you may not want to go back to it. But I loved walking out to Lavacolla experiencing a constant stream of pilgrims coming towards me, then walking back with them into the city, passing through Monte de Gozo on the way. If one of your loved ones has come out to meet you in Santiago you might tempt them to experience a bit of the camino by walking this route with you. It is 20 kms in total.

Santiago to Lavacolla to Santiago: walking all the way

What about the Camino Inglés?

Some people find the final stage of this route into Santiago a bit disappointing compared to the others. I don’t and I am amazed at how near the route brings us to the city by way of forest and country paths before urban walking begins. The traditional last stage begins in Sigüeiro which is 17 kms from the Cathedral in Santiago. You get there by bus. I’ve discovered however that the same bus goes on to Deixebre which is near the route. If you take this option you will add 5 kms of beautiful country and forest walking to your day. If starting at Deixebre ask the bus to stop at the church. Turn Right i.e. with the church on your Left and walk along this road (with a coloured pavement in places) until you come to a bus shelter on your Right after approximately 1 km. Turn Right and follow the arrows.

Deixebre (or Sigüeiro) to Santiago:

Bus to Deixebre/Sigüeiro // walk back 22 or 17 kms to Santiago

The Via de la Plata

This was my first route and retains a special place in my heart. The Camino Levante amongst others joins this route as it makes its way to Santiago. I very much enjoyed going back to the little village of Ponte Ulla to walk the 22 kms back home. Since I had last been there they have built a new bridge for the high speed train the AVE. It dominates the valley. In a strange way though I think it and the old bridge which now sits in its shadow enhance the character of the scene. Plenty of cardiovascular exercise today!

Ponte Ulla to Santiago

Bus to Bus to Ponte Ulla // walk back to Santiago

Bus and train timetables.
All of these suggested starting and finishing points are easily accessible by train or bus from Santiago:
http://horarios.monbus.es/

http://www.renfe.com/viajeros/index.html

Buen Camino

John

Becoming a pilgrim - the call of the Camino Francés

Having walked the Via de la Plata and then the Camino Inglés two or three times I knew that I would eventually walk the Camino Francés. But I kept putting it off and walking other routes instead. So for a while the Camino Portugués and the route to Finisterre and Muxía took my interest. Both are wonderful but increasingly I felt the call of the Camino Francés. For a considerable time whenever I spoke to people I met about the pilgrimage to Santiago they assumed I meant the French route. Each time I patiently explained that there are many other routes and that I had not yet walked that particular one. Each time was also a prompt that it was time to get going from St Jean de Pied Port and walk over the Pyrenees into Spain following the footsteps of millions of pilgrims before me stretching back to medieval times.

I had to sit down and work out what had been holding me back. I had a mental list I worked through. Was it the fact that it was a popular and busy route? Was it the commercialisation I had read about? Was it the albergue industry which has grown up? Was it the amount of young people or New Age pilgrims, or itinerants I had heard populated this route?

Truth is, it was none of these. I was used to walking routes where I had long periods of splendid isolation walking alone often in the most glorious countryside. I had journeyed on lesser walked routes at times of the year when it was unlikely there would be many other pilgrims around. I had walked where it was still a novelty to meet pilgrims. I had to be honest with myself it was the fact that it was inevitable I would meet other people on the Camino Francés whether I liked it or not was what made me reluctant.

I looked at postings on pilgrim forums: Question, “Should I plan to walk with a friend or will I meet other people on the Camino Francés?” Answer, “You will meet other pilgrims even before you start walking. At the airport. At the bus station in Pamplona, within a few yards of setting out on the route”.

This typical dialogue filled me with apprehension. But it had to be done. As a last attempt at appeasing my fears I chose to walk in deep November. There were three or four of us in the Pilgrims’ Office in St Jean de Pied Port. I slept peacefully. There weren’t many others around, I thought. Indeed as I set off the next morning I seemed to be alone then as I walked with the road rising to meet me I spotted pilgrims in front and behind…well click the slideshow above to see and hear what happened.

Sundays on the Camino

A couple of years ago I compiled a series of articles about pilgrimage which were published in a weekend magazine. The project raised about 1000 Euros for the Confraternity of St James. One of the contributors was Marion Marples the Secretary of the Confraternity. Here is what she wrote.
Sundays on the Camino
My second day walking was a Sunday. I left the pilgrim town of Puente la Reina, over its beautiful bridge, before dawn and with barking dogs, crowing cockerels and the morning star for company. I felt brave and cool as I strode out, but the stoney path soon started to climb. The yellow arrow waymarks disappeared for a while in new roadworks but I followed the bootprints in the dust. At Villatuerta I caught the end of Mass and later the priest came to greet us. After a picnic lunch I joined two Brazilians for the walk to Estella where we stayed the night.

By the second Sunday I had walked about 100miles. As we set out before dawn we met the teenagers returning from their discos and were thrilled by a huge orange harvest moon. By 10am we came to a bar for a welcome coffee and then started the steep climb up the Montes de Oca, which in the Middle Ages were feared on account of the wolves and bandits. In the lonely forest we came with relief to the spartan monastery of San Juan de Ortega. Here the priest served garlic soup to all pilgrims.

My third Sunday was the best walk of all. After 2 days off to heal my blisters I felt refreshed as I set off alone from Castrojeriz. I climbed a steep track to regain the higher plateau as the sun rose dramatically behind me, catching the bright quartz in the path. The path levelled out but soon descended to a broad valley, full of stubble fields, with a distant view to a tree lined river. Villages and church towers punctuated the glorious landscape spread before me. After the open plain the path followed the Canal de Castilla, which felt like walking through a painting with deep green water, golden cornfields, blue sky and sparkling poplars.

By the fourth Sunday I had reached the great city of León. After Mass in the beautiful Cathedral we shared a pilgrim’s birthday drink at the San Marcos Hotel bar. I helped my new companion Anne reduce the weight of her rucksack by disposing of some surplus items. In the evening we indulged in heavenly hot chocolate at the Hotel Paris before returning to our very basic 5th floor hotel around the corner.

During the next week we had rain or showers most days. We also reached Galicia, a land of small hamlets and eucalyptus forests, very different from the rest of the walk. Arriving in Melide before lunch we found the pulpo (octopus) festival in full swing. However, we enjoyed an excellent plate of local cheeses and cold meats, washed down with local cider.

The guide book said the ‘last 50 kms are surprisingly arduous’, with which we concurred and were pleased to arrive eventually at a riverside converted 16th century pilgrim hospital. Everyone went to bed early. Only two more days to Santiago

It was wonderful to arrive in Santiago, stand before the great cathedral and contemplate all that had been achieved. I climbed above the High Altar and hugged St James, thanking him for my safe arrival and all those who helped me get there. The next day’s Pilgrim Mass was the emotional climax, as I stood among those who had made the journey with me. I’d arrived but I felt it was just the beginning of a new stage of my life!

Camino Hogmanay - the Film

Hola a todos. Back in London. Brrrrrrrr. Go on pour a glass of mulled wine, turn up the sound and press play. Enjoy.

Gifts of the Camino

Today - Arzua to Pedrouzo 19 kms
Tomorrow - Pedrouzo to Santiago 19 kms

We awoke to the Feast of the Kings. No gifts had been left in our boots. In fact there was a strange mood in the air all round. Neither of us said much. We established that the predicted snow had not fallen. Even that didn't raise our spirits.

We were both aware that Santiago was now less than 40 kms hence. In summer like many others we may have set off before dawn to reach the Cathedral on the same day.

Winter pilgrims have to plan differently. Weather forecasts become essential viewing. So too does working out departure times because it is not light at this time of the year until between 8.30 and. 9am. Take today for example: had we chosen to leave at first light then we would have covered the 19 kms of the etapa in 5 hours arriving at 2pm at the latest. There would have been nothing to do apart from find an open bar. For everyone that can be boring for Scotsmen it can be disastrous.

So we took our time packing and having breakfast. The woman in the bar gave us cake we hadn't ordered. She was very friendly. It was exactly this kind of simple kindness we were reluctant to leave behind. We knew that when we left we would be moving even closer to the end of this journey. We also knew that not all of our walks have been pilgrimages. This had been and it was drawing to a close.

We left our empty hostal having stamped our credenciales with the lonely sello on the counter and set out in the bitter cold. Within half an hour as the route rose before us we were warmed with the exercise. The sun came through. In the distance on the main road we saw snow ploughs spreading grit for the bad weather which thankfully didn't come today.

Eventually we chatted about our journey from Ponferrada: The woman in the hostal who gave us hand made sweets, the German girls who gifted powerful teabags. The man who put an extra heater in the room. The day the sun came out to change everything. The bowl of soup after our miraculous ascent to Cebreiro. The nods and smiles of the few pilgrims we had come across. Our own friendship affirmed and deepened. The space we had been gifted to enjoy the Camino Frances in splendid solitude.

I have always felt ambivalent about this route. The case against for me are the crowds, the tourists, the advertisements for Bacon and Egg Breakfasts and the summer race for beds. But for us on this pilgrimage the route had revealed its beauty and its promise.

Today our walking day was short but by 2pm or so we were hungry. We turned into one of the few bars we had seen open. We asked about food and the woman set about making us omelettes. This was a pilgrim place and we were surrounded by memorabilia. As she put down our food I gave an involuntary shiver. A few moments later she wheeled over a portable gas fire and turned it up beside me without saying a word.

As we lingered letting time pass she asked us in very good English where we were from. She herself was born in Bilbao but had returned to her parents who were from this very village. She said she loved being with pilgrims and in the year to come she hoped pilgrims outnumbered the tourists. Then without prompting she appeared with two copas of liqueur and two conchas. "Gifts for you two pilgrims on the Feast of the Kings", she said. From my rucksack we presented her with the little CSJ Spiritual Companion. The mutual generosity was spontaneous and very real. She embraced us both. All of our eyes glistened with the power of the fellowship of the instant.

We had to move on but before we did Rosa Maria asked us to dedicate the wee book to her.

That brings me to the dedication of this pilgrimage. Our journey ends tomorrow in a day when private intentions will be expressed. This is the final post and I won't post again until back in the UK. But I promise that tomorrow as well as personal thoughts I will also think of all of my pilgrims friends particularly those who have supported this Camino with prayers, messages and visits to this wee blog. I'll hug the Saint for all of you.

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A different story

Palas de Rei - Arzua 28kms

As I write I'm under a blanket with a warming cup of soup at my side. The temperature has dropped and snow is predicted. The Hostal Rua in Arzua feels like the Marie Celeste. The owner opened the door, showed us our room, asked us to leave the keys on the table in the morning and left quickly. He had to get home. It is the eve of the Feast of the Kings, a fiesta almost more important than Christmas to Spaniards. In days gone by it was tomorrow presents were given. Nowadays they are given at Christmas and on 6th January when the arrival of the three kings with their gifts for the baby Jesus is commemorated. Tonight children large and small will put out their shoes and hang up stockings in the hope they will be filled with presents. The tradition is that gifts are for children who have been good in the last year. Bad children receive lumps of coal. Not to worry every confectioner sells coal made of candy!

On TV as we hang our own stockings up to dry are reports of the magnificent Cavalcade of the Kings which takes places in cities, towns and villages throughout Spain. In Madrid more than 500,000 people are lining the streets as the parade passes with gigantic statues of the three Kings. Millions of sweets are thrown into the crowd from the magnificent mobile displays.

The scenes from Madrid are quite different from the Camino Frances today. We set out alone at 9am when it was light. It was very cold but the air was clear. We set a good pace both for warmth and because of the length of the etapa. Our spirits were high. Sun was forecast later in the morning. Soon after leaving Palas de Rei we encountered a section of Camino which was badly flooded. There was no way around. There were 20 or so stepping stones protruding from the water but they looked like the middle section of a bridge when both ends were missing. We commanded the water to part in the name of Santiago and when it didn't we then slid and slithered our way over using sticks for balance and to test the depth as we picked out sunken stones on which to tread. We had to make sure the water never reached the top of our boots. At last we were over, with our feet still dry.

From then on the route revealed its winter beauty. We walked along forest paths lined with trees wearing overcoats of ivy and moss. Their fallen leaves still carpeted the path before us in every hue of brown imaginable. The skies were blue and the sun broke through. This was perfect walking.

All of the bars were closed although we called in at one or two open and well heated albergues. They stood empty waiting the invasion the Holy Year will bring. But still no other pilgrims.

Thoroughly enjoying the day we walked along the path beside the main road on the approach to Melide. Cars raced past. Suddenly there was a screech of brakes. A car stopped and a familiar head appeared at the open window. It was Maria the journalist who had encountered us in Triacastela. She had easily recognised Little and Large striding along the roadside. "How have you got on?" She asked. "It has been wonderful", we replied. The route is beautiful, the facilities for pilgrims are excellent, the sun is shining and we are two days from Santiago." We enthused. "No problems?" She persisted. " Just a little flooding" we answered. "You see I've been sent out on a different story," she explained, "this time I'm looking for bad experiences on the Camino, the ugly side of things." From our reaction she could tell we were the wrong people to ask. "Maria," we tried to explain, "it isn't like that, you need to pack a rucksack and walk the route to see that." We bade her farewell and set off into Melide with me silently wishing her editor gets stockings and shoes full of real coal tonight. But the encounter started a debate - how is it possible for people to understand the wonderful benefits of the pilgrimage to soul, mind and body if they don't experience it? As if to prove the point 15 minutes later we were welcomed into a small bar. We were starving and cold. Within a few minutes boiling caldo was on the table followed by piping hot braised lamb shanks. The delicious meat just fell from the bone. The people at the bar warmly wished us "buen viaje" when we left.

Fully restored we set a good pace for the afternoon. We continued on wide forest avenues. At one point I turned and there was another pilgrim right behind me. This was Jack from Holland. His English was perfect. He had started at St Jean de Pied Port 4 weeks and three days ago. He was lean, fit, and walking fast. Still vexed by the encounter with Maria I was going to ask him if he had experienced any bad or ugly aspects to his Camino. I simply asked him how it had been and he positively glowed.

All of this was still going round in my head when we began the long climb into Arzua. As I panted to the top of the surprisingly sustained incline I realised that my exertions had erased all thoughts of negative questions. I looked back down at the hill and it said, "that's what I'm here for. Buen Camino."

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All creatures great and cured

Here is the news: Esteban who has been suffering from a bad cold for most of this trip is cured. Yesterday we arrived in Portomarin having walked 23 kms and despite our hostal having faulty heating the first clue was that the deep of the night was not broken with the sound of the wracking coughing of the last week. Perhaps the cure had been effected by the excellent dinner we enjoyed in the O Mirador restaurant and albergue in front of a roaring log fire. The huge glass windows give panoramic views of the river and we watched the daylight fade whilst enjoying a dinner of a gigantic tureen of boiling soup followed by steak and chips and finished with vanilla and chocolate ice cream. All washed down with a bottle of Tinto which we mixed with Casera. The price for this Menu del Peregrino was a princely 9 euros.

We awoke to a very dreich day. "Dreich" is a wonderful old Scottish word which the dictionary defines as an adjective describing weather which is cold, misty, drizzly, overcast and miserable. That was the weather today in spades. The river could no longer been seen through the shroud which had settled. As we set off we nodded to the small group of pilgrims standing at the taxi rank and then never saw another rucksack for the whole 25 kms to Palas de Rei.

As we climbed out of Portomarin the Big Man started talking. A lot. This was him back to normal. "You know this part of the route would be beautiful if we could see anything" he remarked as we walked through the mist. A few minutes later as the path levelled out he and his rucksack leapt into the air and he kicked his heels. This was quite a frightening sight from someone who at 6'4 is 9 inches taller than me. What then followed was a rendition of the song Vamos Caminando quickly followed by a hastily composed "Where have all the pilgrims gone, long time passing...taken taxis every one...when will they ever walk...when will they ever walk." "I take it you are feeling better?" I enquired, "certainly!" He replied, "and very soon I am going to eat this KitKat which I have been carrying since the last decade." I've spent a life time in Mental Health so I realise that at times it is best to remain silent. We walked in companionable silence for many kilometres and equilibrium seemed restored.

We discovered that most of the regular facilities of the Camino Frances were closed and we had walked almost 12 kms before we found a bar open. On the way there we walked above the worst of this mist at Castro Maior. When we walked through the village 4 men were washing down a large pig which they had obviously slaughtered just minutes before. This will be butchered for the village fiesta to celebrate the Feast of the Kings in 2 days time. Much of it will also be cured in various forms.

The bar on the edge of the village was closed so we sat at the side of the road and shared the KitKat which had been purchased on New Year's Eve. The dull and dank weather continued for the rest of the afternoon and we were glad to reach Palas de Rei.

On the way I noticed a discarded box for Nicotine Chewing gum. Perhaps it had been thrown away by someone whose New Year resolution is to give up smoking. I was cured of that addiction some years ago and know how hard it is so I wish them well.

As for me, my New Year's resolution is to never attempt to kick my heels with or without a rucksack.
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Legends in our own lunchtime

I need to start with an apology. The way I'm posting blogs means that I don't see what is posted until I am either in an Internet Cafe or a WiFi area. The few times I've been able to log on with WiFi I have been able to see the comments which have been left but I can't post comments in reply. Thank you all for your words of encouragement, they have been much appreciated.

I think that mobile phone charges from abroad are a complete rip off. I was therefore delighted when last summer my provider provided calls from Spain at the home rate. I use a Blackberry for working as well as pleasure and because I am away from home so much I need to keep doing emails. That's what I did in August on the Madrid Route. I posted blogs with pictures, answered emails and sent myself notes for a new Guide. What I hadn't realised was that the substantial reduction in price applied to phone calls and texts, not internet use. The bill could have funded several good lunches in La Terazza.

Another pilgrim taught me how to blog much more cheaply by email by logging on, pressing "send", then immediately logging off again then resisting the temptation to use the internet to check if it has been posted.

Economics apart, we wanted this to be a pilgrimage and not just a walk, so with the exception of a New Year text to family and sending a post into cyber space each evening I've been out of touch. However yesterday in Sarria I had to go to an internet cafe to check an email about our accommodation. There was an email from a friend currently in Santiago - "John, you are in the newspaper!" Never has a Voz de Galicia been purchased so quickly. " Two Scots, John and Stephen from Glasgow were the first two pilgrims to enter Galicia on the Camino Frances in the Holy Year" the story ran. I was astonished. In Triacastela just as we crossed the road to search for our hostal a lassie stopped her car in the middle of the road. She wound down her window and shouted, "are you pilgrims?" We nodded.
"Where did you travel from?" She asked ignoring the traffic behind her. When we replied she shouted, "wait, I need to talk to you." She raced off to park her car some way down the road. We soon found out that rather then asking if we had seen a lost friend she was a journalist who wanted to ask questions. We were tired to the point of exhaustion and answered briefly whilst trying to edge away from her. We confirmed we had walked over the mountain to Cebreiro and I showed her some photographs of the snow and our passage into Galicia. She wanted to go and fetch a camera but by that point we could just have closed our eyes. We wished her a happy New Year and went off to find the Casa Olga. We thought nothing more of it until we saw the newspaper the next evening.

Over dinner we read the story again. The normally shy Big Man showed it to the barman who was suitably impressed. All the more so when we taught him the secret alchemy of making hot toddies. After a few we had scaled Everest and we were preparing for a press conference on our entry into Santiago.

Needless to say we slept soundly and after coffee set off from Sarria the next morning in the rain. The day was grey and there was water everywhere. The thaw had caused flooding in many parts of the route. Streams were overflowing their banks and water cascaded down walls from the fields above.

For a while we tried to pick our footing carefully but after a while we simply checked the depth of the water blocking our way and then charged forward. Thank goodness for Goretex. By noon we were starving and in a little bar we wolfed down a tortilla francesa and bacon - nearly the bacon and eggs of home. We met two Spanish pilgrims, the only others we saw all day.

The rain went off making walking more pleasant but long stretches of the path remained waterlogged. We took each other's pictures at the 100 kms waymark and proceeded ahead. After a short distance we looked into a tiny wayside chapel where pilgrims have adorned the altar with petitions and prayers. As we stepped back onto the path we encountered a wee man in green wellington boots. "Be careful" he said, "there's a lot of water ahead". We shook his hand, " don't worry", we said, "we're Scottish." The implication being of course that we were the recent heroes of Cebreiro and had the sello to prove it. Obviously he didn't recognise us because he laughed and said, " Scotland or Galicia, water is water." We knew what he meant when we turned the corner and at least 100 metres of the route was a fast flowing torrent. Obviously this has happened before because there were granite stones up the centre. Only they were submerged. We made our way carefully water coming up to ankle level at times.

As we passed Fin de Ferreiros the sun came out and we walked the 9kms to Portomarin in glorious sunshine. The beauty of the route was revealed. We were glad to be pilgrims and thoughts of our fame disappeared with the clouds. However at one point we looked back and two windmills stopped generating electricity for a moment and waved at us. They knew who we were.
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What a difference a day makes

Days 3 and 4 - Herrerias - Triacastela 28 kms Triacastela - Sarria 18 kms.

The Cebreiro expedition was very tough followed by a freezing walk along the road. There is a waymark to the right off the road just past Linares followed quickly by a granite waymark. Both point ahead. However in the snow corrective ground markings are obscured. It is easy to go wrong. We were lucky to be redirected by a kind man walking his dog. Later we found out that a poor pilgrim 5 days earlier who had successfully crossed the mountain then got lost and arrived in Triacastela 15 hours after his departure from Herrerias.

Eventually I'll post photos on the Cebreiro section. In many ways it was wonderful. We were concerned at the snow fall on the first section but two 4 wheel drive cars cut a path ahead of us. We walked in their tracks and made good time. We passed a car which had skidded into the ditch sometime the previous evening. When we reached La Faba we had a decision to make but as the morning was clear and we knew that the 4kms to Cebreiro was broken half way at La Laguna we turned right and headed up the snow covered path. All became white. Beautiful. As we ascended it got colder and the snow deeper but we checked carefully that the contour of the path was clear ahead and that our footsteps behind remained obvious. We were breathing and sweating hard with the work we were doing forging ahead. We hunched in a doorway for shelter in a silent La Laguna. That was a welcome rest and chocolate inspired us forward. Only 2 kms or so more. But the mist descended and the snow had been drifting, banking deep on the sides. We kept our eyes fixed on the borders of the path and checked our footsteps behind. Visibility was poor and if it had started snowing heavily we would have beat a hasty retreat following our own tracks. We had a rough idea of the distance we were covering. I had forgotten how tough it is to walk in deep snow. 10 paces then rest...20 paces this time...keep moving. We passed into Galicia. The wall heralding the final section to Cebreiro appeared. Then we were out on the road. All was normal. To our right a family were making a snowman. There were a lot of tourists around the village. Some stared at us. We had something to eat and set out for Triacastela. The sweat dried cooling us and we walked briskly to fend it off. Some drivers sounded their horns or waved in encouragement. As the miles passed energy levels sapped and I could feel the cold in my bones. When darkness loomed and the freezing mist came down I must confess I thanked God, Santiago and everyone else when Antonio and Paloma stopped to offer help. They had been on a day out from A Coruna and had decided by chance to take that particular road. We've swapped details. I'd like to see them again as we only spoke for a few minutes.

When we got into our room my teeth were chattering. Exhausted. We knew there was no food available anywhere and the woman in the hostal confirmed this. She gave us a loaf and some fruit. We unpacked the reserve we'd brought. I never thought a one cup kettle which cost £6 would prove so useful. After a cup of Bachelors Cup A Soup sipped under a blanket we had scalding hot showers which revived our spirits. Then a bocadillo we had brought with us followed by two Pot Noodles mopped up with some bread. Fruit finished the feast. We were in the middle of self congratulation at having decided to carry the additional 1kg of kettle and food between us when I fell asleep. We both awoke 9 hours later and after persuading stiff limbs into action and some bread and jam we set off having decided to make up the missing kilometres of yesterday. The contrast was total. White had turned to green. It had thawed. Snow remained only on the distant mountains. And so we eventually followed the arrows out of Triacastela. Two signs faced us - Sarria via Samos to the left - the other route to the right. A lady approached. "Feliz ano" we greeted her. "We have a choice routes," we said, "Which is best?" She drew herself up into full matriarchal mode and let rip like an opinionated London cabbie - "There is only one choice. If you turn left the route will be flooded with all of this rain, and if you want to go that way to see the Monastery, it won't be open anyway, they never let anyone in, and after all we have lots of monasteries so who cares about that one, turn right go down then up, it is lovely, you will enjoy it." Then she produced the most effective weapon in her considerable armoury, " AND the way I am recommending is shorter!" As she drew breath we bade her a hasty farewell and turned right. She nodded her approval and we felt like good boys.

With that decision we began a lovely day's walking to Sarria. The promised rain never happened. We walked without rain jackets, feeling free after yesterday. Nothing was open until 4kms before Sarria. We stopped and had a brief word with an Italian pilgrim who had started in Cebreiro.

The countryside was like parts of Scotland. We passed some long haired cows. I remember wishing them a Happy New Year. They just stared back. Frankly I don't care about that or anything else - this hotel room has a bath!
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Safe

Arrived in Triacastela safe after the most difficult day. The journey to Cebreiro took more than four hours from just before dawn. We woke to light snow but it deepened as we ascended. Visibility down to 50 mts. Could never have been done alone. No other pilgrims on the route all day. Snow drifts knee deep for the last 1.5 - 2 kms. The photos will show more. It was safe but very hard work - 20 paces and resting in places. The road to Triacastela was clear but after 12kms or so freezing mist and snow descended and light disintegrated. More dangerous and unpleasant than on the mountain. Two angels in the form of Antonio and Paloma stopped and gave us a lift. Will tell more later - need to recover!
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As one door opens...so does another

Day 2 - Villafranca del Bierzo to Herrerias 20.5kms

Today is a short day. This has been determined by the availability of accommodation and food. We will stay in Herrerias tonight and cross the mountain at O Cebreiro tomorrow.

We were in no great rush to leave and we looked out at the grey and bleak day. The drizzle was constant. The mist hung low on the surrounding hills but the air was filled with the warming smell of wood smoke as the village houses stoked their fires. At breakfast there had been an air of quiet excitement. It was Hogmanay. A family were heading to Santiago to see the Holy Door being opened. At the bar a TV crew in distinctive red anoraks downed small coffees and huge slices of cake. They were there for the local "apertura". As the Holy Door is broken open in Santiago in Villafranco del Bierzo their own door, the Puerta del Perdon is opened. This happens with great ceremony and the full liturgy led by the Bishop is printed in a commemorative booklet and captured on TV. The town is very proud of the tradition which was started for those pilgrims of old who because of illness could not reach Santiago. We would have liked to stay to walk through the Door of Forgiveness but we had to set out. In truth I feel ambivalent about these traditions. There are many of them all over the world from lillies being blessed in honour of St Anthony in the Gorbals of Glasgow to the statue of the Virgin of Fatima being processed around the streets of South London by the ex pat Portuguese community. When I was younger I felt they were no more that an ad hoc ecclesiastical tourist strategy. As I've grown older I understand more the need we have for tradition and the need of humans to find some way of bringing heaven closer to earth. Is that not what has taken pilgrims to Finisterre since time immemorial?

These thoughts didn't last long as we braced ourselves and followed the route which follows the river almost all day. It was in spate fed by the constant rain and the snow melting on the mountains. We stopped to look at waterfalls and when the rain abated we had that feeling of "this is the life". But one thing was missing - other pilgrims. In the distance we spotted a red poncho. After an hour or so we caught up with Ingrid from Stuttgart. A lassie in her 20's she was making a solo pilgrimage from Leon. Educated at Durham University she had been to Scotland. "Have you seen any other pilgrims?" She asked. We told her we'd seen a few yesterday including some young people with a support vehicle. "But the albergues have been empty" she said. We reflected on the mysteries of how pilgrims come and go. I remarked on the book by the German comedian which I had read in English. "It is funny" she said, "but he wasn't a proper pilgrim". "But he walked the required distance, made friends and embraced God." We said, "Isn't that pilgrimage?" We could tell she wasn't convinced. A little further on she bade us farewell to walk along the road rather than follow the arrows because it is quicker. As we shook hands she heard the Big Man cough in a spasm. Rifling through a pocket she produced two tea bags. "These are good for the cold" she said. Dead pan the Big Man asked, "Are these made in Germany", she replied in the affirmative. "Ah well, I'll only need one then I'll be cured" he said. She laughed heartily. She'd met Glaswegians before.

All the way to Herrerias the rain beat down relentlessly. We stopped in a bar to see New Year in New Zealand on the television. I thought of fellow pilgrim Margaret and had an idea. "El ano acabando", a woman said. "The year is coming to a head."

The battle through the rain prevented the usual nostalgia of hogmanay taking grip. In the last year a lot of hateful things have happened as well as good. But like the rain I can do nothing about them.

We reached our hostal and began to dry out. We had thought we would have to make an expedition for food. The woman explained that they were having a party after 11 to celebrate New Year. However to our delight she said she would have a meal ready for us at 8.00pm and with no prompting said she would also open the bar.

So dear friends. We've declared a new time zone here in Herrerias and at exactly 9pm, glass of the Gold Stuff in hand, we will toast all of you and welcome the Year of Santiago.

Meanwhile the giant solar panels on the hillside above the hotel Valcarce lie stretched out on the sodden grass. They know that if they wait long enough they will be sunbathing again.
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Cold, colder, rain, dry, sun, rainbows, rain, rain, rain

Day 1 - Ponferrada to Villafranca del Bierzo 22.5 kms

The journey from London to Madrid was without delay and soon we emerged out of the Metro into a Puerto del Sol teeming with people and teeming with rain. The square which marks the exact middle of Spain was dominated by a huge modernistic Christmas tree. Quite beautiful. There, tens of thousands of Spaniards will eat a grape with each of the 12 strikes of the great town hall clock to herald the New Year at midnight on the Noche Vieja - known to the civilised Scots as Hogmanay. But our plan is to celebrate that night far to the North and so after a lovely evening in the Capital we boarded the bus for the 4.5 hour journey to Ponferrada.

The further north we travelled the heavier the rain and the lower the temperature. We drove through the hills with snow lying on the fields but this had cleared by the time we reached our destination.We had an early night. The Big Man is still recovering from a recent illness and the wet weather has revived a throbbing rheumatic in my elbow. We mused as to whether we could invent a new class of "early old crocks" just like "early retired". It had rained steadily all evening and it didn't let up. The evening news was followed by a weather report which almost comically showed all of Spain getting rain. I woke during the night and it was still raining. It was the same at breakfast. We donned our full gear, said our farewells and stepped out into...dry weather.

And so it contined for the morning's walk to Cacabelos. The trail was waterlogged and awash at times. Dark clouds hung heavily above us. Lots of threats but still no rain. A couple of hours passed before we met our first fellow pilgrims in total throughout the day it felt as if there were about 20 pilgrims on the route. But no one was really speaking. Some were obviously suffering from overheating in their rain gear and we passed a small group of young people with seemingly impossibly large rucksacks. As the morning came to an end and lunch approached the sun broke through. Strong. Hot. Everything looked incongruous. We began a deep discussion. Not about whether the equity market was still rallying but rather about whether we shoud stop and take off our long johns. Ah how el Camino simplifies life! But before the question could be resolved the drizzle started. A rainbow crossed our path and the wind billowed the ponchos of two pilgrims in the distance. We were glad to stop and watch the rain beat down from inside a warm bar. Then the rain stopped just as suddenly. The afternoon passed pleasantly. I watched three young pilgrims run up a hill with their large rucksacks and wondered if I was becoming an old crock. But then we passed four middle aged pilgrims walking without rucksacks but painfully moving forward at a snail's pace. They looked miserable when the clouds opened.

We have now established a number of things. Don't wear very much under rain jackets, don't discard long johns at the first sign of sun and Farmacias sell a Spanish version of Lemsip.

A lasting image is of the blackened stumps of shorn olive trees queuing for Spring standing in alien lakes of rain water. They gazed at us without interest. They've seen it all before.

El Camino Hogmanay

Today the adventure begins. All of the winter gear has been laid out for packing: base layer, long johns, middle layer, fleece and a rain shell of trousers and jacket. Double rucksack protection with a liner and cover complete the winter list. This year I’m also trying waterproof gloves having suffered from freezing fingers in the past. They’ve worked well so far.

The CSJ’s publication Winter Pilgrim by Alison Raju is still the best source of advice around in my opinion. Alison advises layering clothes as the most effective way of combating the cold and she repeats the mantra of “get warm and stay warm” as well as good advice to keep dry at all costs. In cold conditions getting wet is a real enemy and can be very dangerous as body temperature can plummet.

If the pamphlet is short on anything it is mention of the substantial range of modern “technical” clothing which is now available. This gear is expensive but is highly effective. I’m packing a featherlight windproof top which can double as a base layer. I’m also packing my Patagonia R2 fleece which is one of the best investments I have ever made. This alongside a merino wool top will keep me toasting. In the past I have always used waterproof over-trousers to pull on if it rains. On this journey, according to the forecasts, rain and snow are inevitable, probably in considerable quantities. Therefore I’m opting for a pair of fully lined waterproof trousers for walking and a spare pair of trousers for evening use. These plus the Patagonia rain jacket and gaiters will keep me dry. I wrote in an earlier post about problems with condensation with this jacket. I’ve recently been wearing less layers and keeping the pit zips open and that problem has been solved.

So, today we’ll catch the 1pm flight to Madrid from London City Airport. This evening Madrileño friends Marta and Manolo will host dinner and if there is time in the morning before the bus North it might be good to catch up with Maria Jesus the nun who used to sing in the cathedral in Santiago and is now posted in Madrid.

The bus will take us direct to Ponferrada where our journey begins. If all is trouble free then 9 days walking will ensure our arrival in Santiago on 7 January. I really wanted to mark the beginning of the Holy Year in this way. Goodness knows where we will all be when the next one comes around!

During a previous jaunt on the Camino Frances at the beginning of January the weather was dreadful and I got a very nasty chest infection. It came back later that year and developed into pneumonia. So with no apology we’ve booked hostals and hotels for each evening. We’ve used the services of the Camino Travel Centre to do this and I have to say the service has been excellent. Bus tickets have been e mailed with a full itinerary including addresses and contact numbers for all locations. Not only have they sourced places which are actually open over New Year, it looks likely that there may be hot food available at most destinations. The most precarious of these is on Hogmanay when the 31st will find us on the road to O Cebreiro. We’ll stay at Herrerías de Valcarce as there is nothing open on the top of the mountain. This is the evening where there is the greatest risk of there being no food or drink. Hogmanay in such circumstances is of course unimaginable to two Scotsmen so we’re packing emergency supplies of dried food plus a little lightweight travel kettle. The whisky will have to be bought, begged, borrowed or stolen. I promise to report further on that subject.

It seems there is a lot of snow around on the mountains but let’s hope the Camino route up to O Cebreiro is walkable. If not we will take the road. It will also be interesting to see how many other pilgrims are around bringing in the New Year in this way. Being the Camino Frances I expect there will be some. Maybe we’ll organise a party.

Since I won’t be here I’d like to wish everyone who visits this blog a very happy, peace-filled and prosperous New Year. I’ll hug the Saint for all of you including the pilgrim who asked, “Does making a Camino Hogmanay make you both Hogmaniacs?

Hasta Santiago. Hasta 2010.