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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