Santiago de Compostela

Tuesday 11 June. No more counting - after 800 kilometres; after the Pyrenees; the foothills; the meseta; the Galician mountains - I'm done. I slept well in the peace, quiet, darkness, and privacy of my own hotel room last night.

I've been thinking why I did it and there isn't a simple answer. Partially because I have led a life with a lot of adventure in it and most of that is behind me now. Partially because it was there and I had to find out if I had the mental and physical strength at the age of 65 to do it (I received my first old age security cheque at the end of February). There is a small streak of vanity involved in all of this. In any case, it's done and I can feel quietly pleased about that, just like the others who have done it before me.

What impressed me - good and bad? Mostly it was the innate goodness of the pilgrims, who intuitively understood that all of us were in this great challenge together. Somehow, it was not like climbing Mount Everest, where some apparently become so focused on their goal that they have no time for the needs of others, even when life is at stake. People were constantly kind and patient. Regardless of language, culture, race, colour, or creed, they did not start any new relationship with a sense of suspicion or reserve.

The trail itself was beautiful, such that I was constantly grateful for being on it, rain or shine. Even the communal life in albergues was fine. It was akin to my early Air Force days, living in barracks while going through pilot training. People were almost invariably helpful. Snoring was a problem sometimes, but it was usually tolerable. I would not have missed this part of the experience. When I needed a break from it, there was always a small hotel available. For me, albergues are what you needed to do to get the job done. I wouldn't gravitate towards them in future, but they were an integral part of the Camino.

What was, very surprisingly, not good was the complete absence of fresh, cooked vegetables and the near universal prevalence of french fries at every afternoon and evening meal.

I only met one pilgrim who was undeserving of the name. A German who stealthily and deliberately jumped a long albergue registration queue on a cold day in an early part of the walk. I wouldn't allow him in front of me, nor would colleagues Luciano and Sergio behind me, but others were not so vigilant and he snuck in before his turn. He was an isolated example, however, and I will try to remember him as such (schweinhund).

My only revelation was to further appreciate the goodness of people and their willingness to come to the aid of others. Perhaps something else will occur to me later. In the interim, I am more grateful for family and friends. I'm also grateful for some small things like: never encountering any bed bugs; always getting a lower bunk; and bath mats (there's nothing like having to stand on your dirty laundry to dry your feet to instil an appreciation of bath mats).

I run into Bathurst John and Sandra while exploring the old town and we enjoy recounting some of our experiences on the trail. They mention a possible lunch rendezvous at 13:30.

I continue my walkabout in the steady drizzle and go to the pilgrims' mass in the cathedral at noon. I think that I can easily find a seat if I enter at 11:30, but, in the event, they are all full except for one on the side (there must be 1000 sinners in here). This is a popular event; in part be because they swing the smoker (or whatever it's called) so energetically and on such a wide arc that I am apprehensive for the safety of those seated in the apse should the bloody thing ever come loose.

Afterwards, no one else is available for lunch, except for Victoria Ali, who left the Camino Frances weeks ago in favour of the Camino Portugese. It's a pleasure to see her again and we dine comfortably at a nearby Italian restaurant. Arrangements have been made to rendezvous in front of the cathedral at 20:00 for a group dinner.

I also check out the location of the local bus terminal for my trip to Cape Finisterre tomorrow morning and the bus stop for my journey to the airport on Thursday. My plans are in place.

 

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Arca do Pino to Santiago

Day 34 (Monday 10 June) 20 kilometres to Santiago de Compostela.

About 2 days ago Caledon Angela sent me an e-mail, looking to hook up the original Canadian group in Santiago. She is leaving today, however, and that is when I will arrive. Still, the thought was nice. As I said to her in reply, we'll probably run into each other in some airport terminal years from now and be joyful for the event.

My albergue last night was fine; my dorm room was only half full (the hostel was about 500 metres off the beaten track) and there wasn't any serious snoring. I am out the door at 06:45 this morning, having completed a recce of a shortcut back to the Camino the afternoon before. The weather is grey again - the clouds hanging just over the tree tops. A light drizzle is falling and the temperature feels like abou 11 or 12 degrees. I leave with my jacket on and my ruck covered. The trail for this last day is generally wide and of packed earth that is somewhat softer underfoot than usual, when I am not actually on pavement. It looks to me like the province of Galicia has invested some funds on making sure the last part of the journey will be a good one from a track perspective.

The early part of the trail is through woodlands. One of the trees must be a flowering variety because a single petal drifts down and lands at my feet. I think of a Roman general enjoying a Triumph through the streets of Rome, with thousands of petals being scattered at his feet. A single petal for me, so the scale of my celebration is about right. The timing is a bit off though - I still have about 16 kilometres to go. Later, as I am taking a picture of some flowers, the home owners pull up to their front gate and the lady of the house invites me onto their driveway so that I can get a better frame angle. I try to put her into the picture, but she is backing away as I take it.

The Santiago airport is southeast of the city and the Camino goes right by one of the runways. It's incongruous to hear turbo-jet and turbo-prop aircraft landing and taking off. I take pleasure in listening to the sound of turbo-prop propellers going into "beta" while an aircraft is taxiing (to keep it simple - the low growl that the props generate when their blade angle goes from forward thrust into neutral). It's been more than 15 years since my last flight, but that will always be one of my favourite sounds.

The image that I have of Santiago is the old town, with its cathedral. Of course, Santiago is a modern city of 96,000 people, so the reality is that I have to walk for more than an hour through not very scenic industrial and residential suburbs before the spires of the cathedral come into view. I find my hotel at about noon.

The great 800 kilometre walking adventure is done. I feel a quiet sense of satisfaction, but no elation. The Camino did not make me cry, but it did present some mental and physical challenges. I'm glad that I have done it and am grateful for the support of family and friends. My guide book says, surprisingly, that only about 11 percent of the pilgrims walking the Camino Frances actually start in St. Jean Pied de Port and then cross the Pyrenees. It's been a long journey - I doubt that I will ever repeat the experience. Other walking adventures await, of a more genteel nature (15 or 16 kilometres per day and with only a light pack).

After the usual chores, I make my way to the Pilgrim Office so that I can receive my official "compostela" in recognition of my walk. The line up is more than one hour long, even though a light rain continues to fall. On the way out, I run into Dutch Herrman and Joyce. I congratulate them on their journey and tell them that the line is only another 400 metres long once they get in the door.

 

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Ribadiso to Arca do Pino

Day 33 (Sunday 9 June) 42 kilometres to Santiago.

I slept badly last night for no known reason. I had expected to have breakfast at the local restaurant this morning because they had a sign advertising service from 06:30. That evidently doesn't include Sundays, however, because there was no sign of life at that hour. I go back to the albergue to finish packing and am on the trail by 07:15. The weather is again low overcast with calm winds. I put on my rain gear from the get go, but end up taking off the rain pants at the first coffee stop after the light drizzle comes to an end. Rain threatens for the rest of my walking day, but never develops.

I walk for most of the day with Minnesota Chuck, who is of a similar age and congenial company. The trail is definitely wider since the 100 kilometre point, and fairly smooth underfoot when we are not actually on pavement. I assume that this is to accommodate a larger volume of pilgrims for the home stretch. In any case, there is almost nothing that is photogenic, so I take virtually no pictures this day.

I finally raise the town of Arco do Pino towards 13:00 hours and make my way to a private albergue that is a few hundred metres off trail. I make sure that I know the shortcut route to rejoin the Camino tomorrow morning. This could be my last night in an albergue for a long time (maybe forever). Just as I sit down to compose this short blog, I note that an ambulance is out front and they are loading a young Spanish pilgrim into it. I have no idea why - I hope that it's something as straightforward as dehydration.

Tomorrow should be my last day on the Camino. I can't quite grasp that I've walked almost 800 kilometres, but there it is. The goal is in sight.

 

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Palas de Rei to Ribadiso

Day 32 (Saturday 8 June) 68 kilometres to Santiago. I talked briefly with Sydney Hans and Slovenia Igor in the afternoon yesterday, but they weren't in evidence at supper time, so I dined alone. The facilities for manually drying clothes were poor in the albergue, so I packed damp socks this morning. Drying clothes outside wasn't an option with the showery weather.

I neglected to mention that I encountered Vincent from Pamplona yesterday late morning. He has walked, in whole or in part, 6 Caminos. He says: "I like it out here; no politics, no religion, we are all in this together."

I'm away by 06:45, bound for Ribadiso, 26 kilometres away. The weather looks very much the same as the day before - low overcast, calm winds, and a temperature around 10 degrees. Sure enough, as I climb a hill on the outskirts of town, I feel a few raindrops. I pull up my ruck cover and don my rain jacket. A short while later a light rain begins to fall steadily, so I dig out my rain pants too. It doesn't last more than about an hour, but the clouds are hanging in the tops of the trees, so it looks as if it could start up again anytime. I leave my rain pants on until I stop for coffee in San Xulian.

There I meet Saya from Barrie, Ontario. She left St. Jean Pied de Port on the 17th of May, so she has been setting a very fast pace. Not quite as fast as first appearances, however, as she elected to take a bus for 65 kilometres around the built-up area near Leon. She is a marathoner and believed that walking the Camino would not be difficult. The first day over the Pyrenees was apparently a wake up call; walking long distances with a heavy ruck and running 42 kilometres are not the same thing. As we leave the cafe, she stops for a smoke break, so I carry on, after buying a banana (50 Euro cents this time).

Later in the morning, I run into Saya again and we fall into a discussion about job searching. She is looking for full time teaching work at the Community College level, but without success so far. I offer what I know about the hiring process, but I don't think that I'm telling her anything that she doesn't already know. When she stops for a sandwich in the outskirts of Melide, I top up my cash supply at a nearby ATM and press on.

Shortly after that I come across an older, grey-haired woman and a younger man (mother and son?) who are walking rather slowly. Small wonder; she is wearing black, fashion-leather flats, that have no heels. She'd look good in those at a diplomatic reception. She's going to land on her keister if the next downhill isn't perfectly dry. Now I think that I've seen everything in footwear. I also come across a rather well maintained house that is using a Basque grain silo as an objet d'art for their front yard and another with an artistic trail marker.

About 30 minutes before I stop in Ribadiso, I feel a few drops of rain. I don't bother with the rain pants, though. I've got some shelter from overhanging trees and I'm almost there. I raise the albergue at 13:00; about 6 hours and 15 minutes after starting out.

 

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Portomarin to Palas de Rei

Day 31 (Friday 7 June) 93 kilometres to Santiago. I spent the quietest of afternoons and evenings in Portomarin. When there are a dearth of English or French speakers, I fall back on my e-books. That and a short recce of the town - specifically the outbound track for tomorrow. I do run into Indiana Brian and Cheryl, who I have not seen for weeks. In any case, I'm not feeling particularly grand at supper time, so I finish part of a plate of macaroni with some bread and red wine at a local restaurant and then retreat to a sitting room in the albergue. I'm in bed by 21:00.

I'm away this morning at 06:35, westbound for Palas de Rei, 25 kilometres closer to Santiago. The sky is overcast, wind calm, and the temperature is about 10 degrees. Before I clear the town I can feel a few drops of rain, so I stop to stow my vest and put on my rain jacket, as well as pull up the rain cover for my rucksack. Climbing a hill outside of town, a light rain starts to fall steadily, so I put on my rain pants as well. The track is wide and firm, with no mud. After about 90 minutes the rain stops, and I gradually shed my rain gear, leaving the rucksack cover up as a precaution. I notice a faint rainbow to the west. I think that it terminates at an ATM in Santiago, where I expect to be on Monday.

Just before I stop in Gonzar for coffee and a pastry, I notice a Spanish couple at the side of the trail having a smoke break. Smoking is more prevalent in Europe, of course, but I thought that the Camino might be different - not so. At all the coffee stops there are ash trays on most tables. It's incongruous, but there it is.

Most of the path today is either on or alongside a paved secondary road that undulates gently - my net ascent today will be 450 metres. The province of Galicia has placed concrete distance markers every 500 metres, so judging distance is not a problem. It's overkill, but I'd rather too much navigation information than too little. There are few photo opportunities, save a church graveyard that appears to have many of its burial vaults on the outside wall of the cemetery.

The trail is definitely more crowded; mostly with younger Spaniards, all of whom are chatting volubly. At times it sounds like the statacco hammering of a light machine gun. Some of them have clearly got themselves out of bed at an early hour. Can this be a first for teenagers?

I raise Palas de Rei and locate my albergue at about 12:45 - having spent just over 6 hours on the trail. I'm getting close to my goal now and am starting to think more of home. First, though, I've got to get this done.

 

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Barbadello to Portomarin

Day 30 (Thursday 6 June) 112 kilometres to Santiago. It was a quiet but sunny and warm afternoon in Barbadello yesterday. My dhobi wash dried quickly - no need to pack damp socks this morning.

I remain pleased with my equipment choices, with one additional minor problem - fluid/gel containers. I had filled a small plastic travel bottle with shampoo before I left home (a luxury - I know). It had held up well on other less strenuous walks, but not this time - the top has been leaking for many days. In similar fashion, a collapsible plastic squeeze container that I had been using for sunscreen proved problematic. It was very difficult to fill (Diane had the patience for it - I didn't) and proved to be messy and too small in actual use. In any case, the answer for me, on both counts, is a product called GoTube - available at MEC in Ottawa, amongst other places. The GoTube caps are plastic and can break if dropped onto a hard surface, but seem to hold up well otherwise. I have one in use this trip and will rely on them exclusively in future.

My evening is solitary. The degree of social activity available to me is directly proportional to the number of English speakers who are staying in the same albergue (or to a lesser extent, French). In this case, there are a few young English speakers who are avidly discussing US basketball teams, and that's it. I'm asleep by about 09:45 and the dorm room, despite having 10 bunk beds in it, is quiet all night.

I set off from Barbadello for Portomarin at 07:15, having had apple pie for breakfast before leaving. The walk today is only 19 kilometres. My initial intent is to slow down, but early in the walk I encounter Galway Edward, who is a faster walker, partially owing to the fact that he has his rucksack shipped forward to the next albergue each day. The pace is therefore not ideal, but Galway Edward is a great raconteur, so I quietly accept an earlier arrival time in return for his company.

We stop for coffee in Morgade and briefly meet up with multilingual Deutschland Annie, who I have not seen for several weeks. Just as we are finishing our mid-morning break, the first wave of Spanish teenagers appears. Galway Edward says something along the lines of "getting away from all these hormones" and we make a quick exit.

A little later we come across a another example of a curious structure that I've seen before. It bears some resemblance to a coffin that has been enlarged vertically. In fact, it turns out that these are for grain storage - to keep it dry and free of rats. The Basque equivalent of a small silo.

We raise Portomarin around noon and I locate my recommended albergue shortly after. Galway Edward is staying in another - I may see him tomorrow on the trail.

 

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Triacastela to Sarria

Day 29 (Wednesday 5 June) 134 kilometres to Santiago. I had a slow afternoon and evening in Triacastela. There were several albergues in town, so the folks that I had been chatting with the day before had evidently stayed at another one. I did a recce of the route out of town that stood me in good stead this morning. I note that there is an abandoned apartment construction site. These are quite common across northern Spain, as a result of the recession. Indeed, I have noticed that many residences, including some that are of relatively new construction, are boarded up. There is also a dearth of people in the smaller villages, especially young people. Clearly, the economy is not doing well.

When I woke this morning, the thought struck me that not many people sleep really well in a communal albergue, given the close quarters and the noise. Mark Bucken would be an exception, but that only goes to prove that 4 hours of coma really are worth 8 hours of sleep. People are stirring by 05:45; flashlights coming on and the sounds of repacking. There is no point in trying to sleep any further, so I get up and get underway by 06:35. The route is steadily uphill at first and through forest. Once again, I am reminded of author Bill Bryson's expression: the tyranny of the trees. One looks very much like another as I plod along. They provide shade though, and that's a good thing as the temperature heads for the mid-20's. At one point, the trees fold over the trail to the extent that I'm reminded of the legend of Ichabod Crane and the Headless Horseman.

I had picked up a few supplies for an enroute breakfast, but choose to supplement these with a stop for coffee at a cafe in the village of Furela. It provides another unique Camino experience - the loos are equipped with a bog roll dispenser that is outside the toilet stalls. Presumably one is supposed to withdraw the standard 60 feet before entering? Instead, I use my own roll that I carry in my 5 litre shower/toilet kit. After leaving the cafe, I encounter a farmer with a small herd of cows transiting through the village. I can hear a dog at the back, so I move up a lane to one side and shorten one of my walking sticks. When the dog sees me he stops and favours me with a menacing glare. My "gladius" is at the en garde position, but he evidently does not consider me a threat to his charges and moves on. My impression is that most farms in the region are operated on a subsistence level - nothing large scale. I can't imagine that their profit margin is very large.

As I get closer to Sarria, I note the valley ahead is blanketed with radiation fog. Given the oblique angle of the early morning sun's rays, the fog persists as I walk towards it. It supports the illusion that I am walking toward a sea shore that has an inlet jutting well inland. I could be in Nova Scotia. As the sun gets higher though the fog gradually burns off, so that I am in bright sunshine when I enter Sarria. This was my original destination, but I am mindful of the advice of Galway Edward that this is the usual Camino start point for hordes of Spanish hooligans, I mean high school kids. I decide to go a few kilometres further to Barbadello and stop at a nice albergue there at about 12:15.

 

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O'Cebreiro to Triacastela

Day 28 (Tuesday 4 June). 155 kilometres to Santiago. While waiting to register yesterday afternoon, Galway Edward kept us entertained. He told of sitting outside a pub in Ireland having a few pints of Guiness with his mates when a young man pedalling a unicycle came up the slope towards them. They were mildly stunned. As he passed, one of the beer drinkers called out: "So, are youse saving up to buy the other wheel, or what?" Edward's accent reminded me a bit of friend Leo O'Quinn, from the Codroy Valley on the west coast of Newfoundland. Leo loves to tell of a trip home to visit family several years back, during which he spent part of an evening at a nearby tavern. When some of the locals started complaining about the fact that there was no work, an elderly man spoke up and said: "That's because we got'er all done me son." Later, when someone asked the man how old he is he said: "I don't know for sure me son, but when I was in the second grade I sat 3 desks behind Jesus."

In the early evening, Sydney Hans and his friend Igor (originally from Slovakia) ask me to join them for dinner. Brittany Serge is also supposed to come along, but he's sleeping. He shows up later when we are part way through our meal and we share a laugh when I tell him that without his sticks my pack feels like a "montgolfier" (hot air balloon).

My theory about snoring and its relation to the number of beds is failing the jack-acid test. There were somewhere between 50 and 100 people in one dorm room last night (bunks were crowded together such that there was free space only on one side), but it was remarkably quiet. It's a great theory, but the empirical data so far doesn't support it.

Although I only have 21 kilometres to travel today, I'm awake at my usual early hour and underway by 06:45. As I leave the albergue I notice 2 horses grazing alongside it. There is a moderate breeze this morning, but the skies are once again clear and the temperature feels close to 10 degrees. The trail goes gently up and down as I walk alone, deliberately slowing my pace, as I don't want to raise Triacastela too early. I stop in a little hamlet called Fonfria for juice and coffee. The server speaks very good English and shows me a photo on his smart phone: 2 weeks before they had had 15 centimetres of snow.

Continuing towards Triacastela, the slope steepens downhill over the last few kilometres. The path is quite wide, however, and much smoother underfoot than when I came downhill into Ponferrada a few days before. I make it to the albergue by 12:15. Tomorrow I will walk to Sarria, which is the closest town to the 100 kilometre distance to Santiago that one is required to walk in order to obtain an official "compostela". Edward has advised us that swarms of Spanish high school kids will appear at that point because they apparently get some sort of academic credit for walking the last 100 kilometres of the Camino and receiving a "compostela". The ratio of teachers to students is apparently very low and the kids are therefore inclined to be boisterous, loud, and ill behaved. The only solution, an easy one, is to get up early and walk between waves of students.

 

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