YEA!!!!

Monte de Gozo to Santiago (Wednesday, June 30th)

We are here. Only 4.5 km into the city this morning, and we are here.

I woke up and said "Happy Birthday!" to Stella first thing. I know she will never have another birthday quite like this one! We left Monte de Gozo by 6:20 am, even as the sun was just beginning to rise and give the city it's first pinking glow. In the blackness, we started downhill. We knew we had about an hour's walk. We cheered when we came to this sign: It was along a busy highway area that we had to cross over on a bridge. Once over, we began a long, what else, up hill climb through the city to our final destination. But it's our last!

We traipsed across the city, following the last of the yellow arrows. At one point, we glimpsed a spire through a narrow street. "Do you think that's our first view?" one of us said to the other. "Just in case, let's take a picture!" It turns out it wasn't; we still had a good ways to go. But, it was a nice looking church in kind of an upscale neighborhood, anyway.

When we did finally reach our goal, it was rather by surprise. The first thing we noticed were the beautiful parterre gardens at what we found out was the Bishops' House next door. After walking through so much concrete, this patch of patterned green jumped out at us. This building faces the left-hand side of the cathedral (if you're looking at the front of the cathedral), and sits at the corner of the large plaza in front of the cathedral. So it wasn't until we passed this building and turned around that we realized that we were standing in the plaza in front of the cathedral. Woooohoooooooooooo! We did it!


We were the first (and only) pilgrims into the square at about 7:25. Stella called her husband and daughter (both asleep back in Georgia!) to tell them the news that we had arrived. We had to tell someone! The cathedral has a huge edifice (though I have yet to locate the hurdy gurdy player that Jean Paul Carton promised!). It is hard to put into words the feeling of reaching such a goal. It's one of those things that you really have to do to understand what it feels like. It isn't exactly comparable with being Neal Armstrong or anything, but it is still powerful and deeply meaningful and hard to take in all at once.

Shortly afterwards, we ran into some folks we had met earlier in our journey (it happens often on the camino, but it is always grace), Charlie and Ale, among others. Then we got at the beginning of the queue to get our Compostela, the certificate, for completing the walk. We had to wait outside for quite awhile since we had arrived so early, so we took turns going to have coffee and tea with some folks we met from Australia. The line continues to grow and gets quite long while we are waiting, so we feel very fortunate to be in the first half dozen or so people. Finally, the doors to the old, dank building are opened and we ascend this creaky, wide, wooden staircase in the middle of the building that has seen many pilgrim feet. By this time, the line of pilgrims will extend back down the stairs, out through the building and yet still out onto the street.


The office is still not quite ready for this day's onslaught of pilgrim's and so we wait for just another bit inside. I'm not sure what I'm expecting for this Compostela, but the experience itself is rather like going to the DMV. There are perhaps 6 or 8 young men and women sitting behind counters like bank tellers waiting to speak to the (from their perspective) never-ending line of pilgrims. Fortunately, they are used to speaking to people from everywhere and are quite fluent. Every Compostela awarded is duly recorded in a handwritten ledger. Someplace, there must be a huge archive of these big green books. Everything is very precise. Remember when we first came to Roncevalles, and they asked us where we were from and what our mode of travel was - a pie, a bici or a caballo? The lady I have asks those two questions again. She also asks where I began (SJPP), and she looks at me quite intently when she asks whether I have indeed walked the last 100 km (yes!). There are also questions about my occupation (clergy - she didn't bat an eye) and my reason for doing this - religious, spiritual but not religious or other (religious). I actually wondered whether I would be allowed to say both "clergy" and "religious" because of my gender in this mostly RC country, but she didn't care at all. If you say "religious," then your compostela will be in red (actually it looks like brown). If you say "spiritual" or "other," it will be in black. It is all in Latin, including my handwritten name, Ioannam Mariam, and it is also dated with today's pilgrimage completion date and the fact that this is an anniversary year. I pay the extra 1 euro for a cardboard tube to protect this document that is very precious to me!






Then we walk around a bit before getting our seats in the cathedral for the noon mass. There will be lots of shops to look in later for mementos of this place. I don't want anything major - and certainly can't fit much into the backpacks! What a tasty looking window!

We're glad we get to the Cathedral early so we have good seats. Apparently one mass has just finished as the clergy are just departing and there are already hundreds of people, although they look like they, too, are headed out. The sanctuary appears to be in constant flux as tour groups pass through, so it is hard to tell. We look around in the huge space a little and then take seats in the front row in the right transcept. Even though we're over to the side, we'll have a good, close view of everything. The service itself, though it is in Spanish, is still meaningful. Just as in Roncevalles, they read off where all of the pilgrims who have checked in that day have come from by nationality, and whether they have travelled by foot, or on a bike or on horseback. It seems like bookends on the journey. It is also powerful (except apparently for some of the tourists whom seem to have no respect for either place or event) because it is the culmination of the our journey and an acknowledgement for me personally that this has begun and ended in God. I wish that there was a way for it to be a communion service for us, but with so many people present, many of whom would not understand or appreciate it, that isn't going to be possible. At the end of the mass, if you're lucky, they swing this huge thurible, an incense burner (see video below - it's sideways, so you have to turn your head to the left). It is 2 - 3 foot tall. It takes a team of 6 -8 men to swing the ropes and they swing it so high that it swings out over the people in the transepts (us) and up towards the ceiling (easily 25 feet or more high). It is truly something to see. And it fills the cathedral with the incense! I was warned before I left on this pilgrimage to watch out for sparks and falling charcoal from this thurible, but it seems to be safe today. It is such a large thurible that the thurifers use a small d-handled shovel to put in the charcoal and incense!

After the mass, we go to have a celebratory lunch. We wander down one of the many pedestrian shopping streets in the old part of town. There are lots of choices, and now that we are here, we seem to be completely incapable of making a choice! At the end of the street, we finally choose a place that has outdoor tables and sit down to enjoy! I give Stella her birthday/end of pilgrimage gift. It is so lovely to just sit and take it all in that we have at last made it (I call Mom, now that it is a better hour, but she's not available!) We are so tired and so happy. There is some kind of appetizer. I get a sweet, ripe melon wrapped in some of their delicious ham. And yes, cold beer to celebrate!


As a pilgrim, you are also supposed to go and hug St. James, whose head (yes) presides over the altar area and whose crypt is below the altar (they do things a little differently here). So after lunch, we go back to give James a hug. We enter through the special Puerta del Perdon that is only open in anniversary years (when St. James' feast day falls on a Sunday, which 2010 is one of these). St. James' statue is above this doorway. We wait in line during the late afternoon when the line is shorter to do this. When I climb the little stairs to hug St. James, I am struck by two things. First, my ring inadvertently clanks onto the brass of his armor and it sounds rather tinny, so I'm not too impressed. Pilgrims are also supposed to say whatever they want to the saint. I'm not quite sure what to say to him via this empty-sounding bust, so I just say, "Thank you." The second thing I am struck by is how distracting all this must be to the people out in the congregation because yet another service is going on. From where we were sitting at the noon mass, the bust above the altar was not visible and we could just barely see the continual line of visitors filing down from having hugged the bust and on their way further down to the crypt. But for those in the congregation sitting straight out in front of the altar, this must be at least a little more noticeable, as one set of hands and arms after another reaches around this bust. From hugging the bust, the line goes back down a little flight of steps, turns 180 degrees and descends to go under the altar to the crypt where St. James' bones are reportedly interred. As I reach the area, there is a priest on his knees praying and several other people. I pass on through, giving a quick glance at the reliquary. From here, you exit the building and end up in the square behind the cathedral. At some point, after we are both outside again, Stella asks me why I didn't bother to stop at St. James' crypt. She stopped and prayed. I told her it really had no meaning for me, and I think that took her aback a little. I didn't come on this pilgrimage because of the legend behind it, and truthfully, it's a little too much legend for me. It could be his bones, but there's a lot of convenience in the story! Does it matter to me whether they are or they aren't? No. What matters to me is responding to God's call to come aside for awhile and rest, and journey. We stay in the large plaza for a little while in the late afternoon as the sun hits the front facade of the Cathedral. I've looked all around the exterior of the Cathedral and still haven't found the hurdy gurdy. But the Cathedral looks golden with the sun upon it.

We are staying at a large alburgue known as Seminario Menor (minor seminary) that sits on a hill overlooking the old part of the city. It's great except that we are on the fifth floor (no elevator) and to even get up to this building is a serious climb up a hill. But, for every uphill, there is a downhill. We are here. This is
good. It's more than good, it's fabulous.

When we check into the alburgue, we find out that for 25 euros, we can take a bus trip to Finisterre tomorrow. It will take us to the lighthouse for awhile, then to the downtown and then bring us back, door to door. We know we won't get there any other way as it is about 3 days of walking from Santiago. So we get tickets. We also find out that, unlike most other alburgues, we can spend a second night in this one, so we go ahead and reserve another night.

Dinner is out of the little convenience store in the basement of the alburgue. It's funny. Reaching our goal has suddenly sapped any remaining strength that we have, so to go back down all those stairs, inside and outside of this building, down the long hill, up the hill into the city area, look for a restaurant, and then retrace all our steps to come home is just out of the question. It has been a big day and we are exhausted. Our bunkroom has 118 bunks in it! Fortunately, we have lockers for our valuables for a change, so tomorrow, we don't have to take everything with us. The bathrooms are unisex and the water fluctuates from cold to scalding in the shower, but you know what? It's all okay. We have reached our goal. Thank you, St. James. Thanks be to God.

Brink

Santa Irene to Monte de Gozo (Tuesday, June 29th)
An 18 km day, but it was enough. We stand on the heights that overlook the city of Santiago, our goal!!! We are 4.5 km away from the Cathedral, but we do not want to enter until tomorrow, so we can celebrate Stella's birthday in style. It has been a good day and we have chosen to stay in the Xunta (municipal) Alburgue, that rather resembles military barracks. They are 30 cinder block buildings built on a sloping hill with a plaza half way down that has a couple of cafeteria restaurants and a souvenir store. Surreptitiously (and at the risk of his job), the hospitalier at the reception desk strongly urges us to go back up past the monument to the local restaurants and bars for better food. So we do and go to O Labrador, apparently a very popular place with the locals. We have a wonderful meal of fish, salad, fries and ice cream. And wine. It's a "we're almost here!" celebration and the anticipation and excitement is palpable in each of us.

This morning has been a bright, sunny morning; a fairly easy walk with a lot of other pilgrims through somewhat industrial surroundings on the outskirts of Santiago and its airport. We started off quietly enough from the woods of Santa Irene, but that eventually gave way to more scraggly growth and openness surrounding highways and development. Here and there, we have seen some more enormous trees, especially in the little city of Arca.

We pass through the village of Lavacolla, an attractive little town with lots of little ornamental horreos in peoples' yards. Lava, as in lavatory, to wash. This used to be a very ceremonial stopping point for pilgrims to prepare themselves for reaching Santiago. Back in the Middle Ages, Christians didn't wash as often as we do now (and actually ridiculed Jews and Muslims for doing so!), but it seemed a right and good and proper thing to do, to have some sort of ritual purification before entering such a holy city and pilgrimage site. So, Lavacolla, which is blessed with a small river (now not much more than a trickle), became the occasion to do that. According to the guidebook, Lavacolla has also long had a reputation as a 'tourist trap' - even in the Middle Ages! Inns, restaurants and the like from Compostela would do advance advertising here. Rumors about scarcity would be put forth, forcing vulnerable and bone-weary pilgrims to pay in advance for lodging and meals they hadn't even seen yet! Some things don't change much over the years!! There really isn't an opportunity for us to do any ritual 'cleansing' (and I don't know what that would have consisted of anyway in our case), nor is there even an open cafe to get some caffeine at the time we are coming through in the very early morning, so we just admire the village and keep on going.

At last we begin to ascend the last hill before Santiago, Monte de Gozo, or Mount of Joy, or Monxoi in the local dialect. It is named so because of the euphoria all of us pilgrims have for reaching the height and catching our first glimpse of the cathedral's towers in Santiago. Although, let me tell you that Stella and I never do that while we are on the hillside - perhaps we just don't know what direction in which to look, or the haze isn't favorable, but we really never locate our goal visually. It DOES NOT however take away from our euphoria. We, along with all the others, including several families, wind our way up the hillside. There is an area that the Camino goes through that is part industrial park and part camp/resort/horse training area. Even though our whole journey is only 18 km, it seems to stretch out. Perhaps it's becase we've noticed that they quit putting kilometer markers up in the last few days. I have wondered if it is because the actual path of the Camino has changed so many times (and keeps changing) that this is to account for slack. So we don't REALLY know exactly how far we come this day. Or maybe it's like a small child waiting for Christmas or their birthday, the closer it gets, the slower the days seem to go. Anyway, even though it is supposed to be a shorter day, the walk does seem to take awhile.

Finally, near the edges of the Santiago airport, I pass this stone marker, making it all feel very real. Can you tell by my smile how excited I am? I take several other pilgrims' pictures by the same marker for them. We are all so happy to be where we see Santiago "carved in stone." Soon, we are moving out of the more industrial park area and into cottages and residences. We are beginning to come to the crest of the 'hill.' Here's another Camino kitty, taking it all in. I wonder if the animals watching us compare notes about the pilgrims they see?

Someplace up at the top of the hill, there is a little parklet where I rest for a moment and wait for Stella, which is not a long wait. Her smile and eyes are as bright as mine - we are so excited to be this far!!! We continue to walk through Monte de Gozo, which is still actually climbing in altitude a bit. Along the way, we spot this "Easter Island" design for clipping hedges. Perhaps Edward Scissorhands lives in this village! I wonder how many pilgrims are plodding by here, head down, focused on reaching the top, never noticing the gardening and smiling at the gardener's sense of humor?

We continue up through the center of the town and a few hundred yards further up, suddenly we arrive at an open area up to our left. A wide gravel path leads up to the very summit of Monte de Gozo, where a large monument crowns the 'hill.' From our vantage point, it looks rather like a truncated pyramid with a bit of Stonehenge on top. There are dozens of pilgrims just milling about - some sprawled on the grassy hillside, some getting refreshments from a beverage cart, others taking pictures for posterity, others simply marveling that they are here. We wander up towards the monument to get a better look, and the closer we get, the more obvious it is that the top is NOT like Stonehenge. We aren't quite sure what the symbolism of the sculpture does represent, but it is interesting. When we get up to it, we can see that the base has four sides. The first one we come to commemorates Pope John Paul II as a pilgrim before he became pope. The opposite side is St. Francis. I decide that his pocket is the perfect place for the second of my two little stones that I have brought all the way from Jerry Hall Rd. near my house. Somehow, putting the stone in Francis' pocket already gives me some sense of completion, of coming full circle on this trip; I'm not quite sure why. Maybe it is knowing that the Camino has changed me irrevocably, and in this little way, by bringing these two small stones and leaving them on the Camino, I have changed it by my presence. Maybe it is just being on this "mount of joy" and my joy already overfloweth.

We go down over the crest of the hill to find the military-looking alburgue, but we are early for check-in, so we just find a bench in the shade to wait. Eventually, we get checked in, get the advice about where to go and eat and go have a wonderful lunch. We slowly wander back to the alburgue, exploring the little chapel up by the monument as we come back. We check out the guidebooks about Santiago for tomorrow. I go walking down the hill through the rest of the huge alburgue. Despite the large number of spaces, many of the buildings are not even open, because they aren't needed. Perhaps in a couple of weeks, as it gets closer to St. James' feast day, and there are more pilgrims, they will be used. I wander down to the common area. There is a wonderful pilgrim fountain in the middle. And at the far side, the Rotary Club of Santiago has a stone marking 4 km to the cathedral! It is the first kilometer marker I have seen for a while. A couple of cafeterias are open, but they have been invaded by some children's soccer teams that are apparently staying here. There are a couple of little touristy stores, but it is all cheezy stuff that I have no need of. I get a beer and settle in to people watch in the very large plaza.

Eventually, I wander back up to our bunkroom to find out what Stella wants to do about dinner. She is deep in conversation, or rather, she is deep in listening to Grace, the young lady from Alaska, whose main gift is talking and talking, who has arrived. I stay for a little while, but find that I am far too antsy to listen much and prefer the solitude of being outside. Stella isn't up for dinner anyway, so I go back down to the cafeteria and grab a salad. Even when I return and hour or more later, Grace is still talking! I find a little library in the building across the way and kill some time. I return and Grace is still talking. No wonder Stella is such a good deacon! Finally I give up and get ready for bed. Some other folks in the room do, too. At some point, Grace finally gets the hint and either goes somewhere else to talk or gets into her bunk - by then, I am asleep!

Peaceful

Melide to Santa Irene (Monday, June 28th)
Thirty one kilometers today! Our record for the trip and it will stand because we don't have that far to go any more!

We leave Melide walking back up through the city. It isn't long before we're out in the country again, though. There are many more pilgrims now and we have lost sight of anyone that we have known along the way. There is a greater police visibility. All the guidebooks warn about watching out for pickpockets and petty thieves on this part of the Camino. We haven't had any problems, but perhaps that's because the police are present. In only one or two instances prior on this trip has there been just a moment when I have felt a little frightened and vulnerable. Once, when I was walking by myself and for just a couple of moments, the Germans a couple hundred yards ahead of me were out of sight and whoever was behind me were out of sight and I was going under an overpass. I remember thinking, "If there were still bandits wishing to do harm to a lonely pilgrim, this is where they'd be!" and looking over my shoulder for a few moments until I got in sight of the Germans again. The only other time was walking through all the drunks in Sahagun. But on this day, another couple of strange incidents occur.

First, we are walking in a rural stretch with some fields and woods when a couple of military or police looking humvees drive very slowly up the road where we are headed. Who are they? Why are they here? Are they just patrolling or is something going on? We don't find out. A little later, while climbing up a small hill in a wooded stretch, we come across a small forest fire that doesn't seem like it is being attended. Was the earlier patrol looking for more signs of fire? Later yet, we are walking through a pine forest, thick in shade, and silent with a deep blanket of needles. Again, Stella and I are headed up hill with only a few other pilgrims within shouting distance. Suddenly, several men in green jumpsuits, black skimasks and helmets, gloves, boots, the whole works, with little black leather nametags, come zooming into our woodsy retreat. They come riding by looking at us. It's unnerving to say the least. Their outfits look like the flightsuits I was used to in the Navy with the little leather name tags, but who are they - paramilitary, police - are they good guys, bad guys, what? They don't stop; they don't say anything; they don't take our picture! It just feels very strange. We are told later that they do actually have Camino police making sure that people don't cheat (this seemed a little heavy-handed for that!). I think (hope) they are just regular police making sure the pilgrims are safe and protected, but it is an odd feeling to want to be protected from the very people who are there ostensibly to protect you!


At some point, we walk separately again, Stella listening to her music and I go on ahead a bit. I stop in one small village, Santiago de Boente, for a mid-morning break and, as usual, there is a little church open for visiting and for prayer. I go in. There are little prayer cards available in a number of different languages. On one side is a picture of the colorful little statue of St. James they have in their sanctuary. On the reverse is this prayer:

O Apostle Saint James, I am here, as thousands of pilgrims have been all through the centuries, offering Our Lord the tiredness caused by following the Way of Saint James. I have come here to learn how to walk through the way of Life, which is Christ. Help me O Saint James, thou, who followed the Master to the point that thou gave your life for Him. Give me a big and generous heart, as thy heart, so I can also be an apostle of Christ. O Blessed Virgin Mary, Queen of the Apostles, let me feel thy heart's love and affection. May thy smile and Maternal love help me to walk the way of life with the happiness of the sons of God.
- Pray for us, O blessed Saint James,
- That we may be made worthy of the promies of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Let us pray. O Lord, accept our pleas to Thee, through your Apostle Saint James, and make that the pilgrimage to his Sepulchre, beacon light of Christian unity, lets us get ready to follow together the path which leads to eternal glory. Through our Lord, Jesus Christ, Amen.

From there, of course, I head to a little cafe for the aseo and my regular tee con leche. There's a nice little table and chairs on the sidewalk to enjoy it. Just as I'm finishing, Stella arrives. I wait for her and we leave Boente together. The towns are beginning to run more and more together as we get closer to Santiago, and oddly enough, the alburgues, despite more pilgrims, are getting further and further apart. We will have to adjust our walking accordingly.

We stop in Arzua for lunch. It's a mostly modern, not terribly attractive, town, set in the middle of dairy country, known for it's cheeses - apparently, people from the Basque region (remember their sheep cheese?) came and settled here sometime after the Christian reconquest of Moorish territory. I continue to have my egg sandwich, however, instead of the heavy cheese.

There is not much in the afternoon except a few little villages that string along our way. I am a little ahead of Stella and reach the top of the hill just before Santa Irene, our destination for the evening sooner. There is a bar/cafe on either side, so I pick one, get a cold drink and sit outside to wait for her, since I am not exactly sure where to find our alburgue. It's been a long, hot afternoon, and it feels good to sit down for a while.

There are a few rowdy folks inside, but they're just having a good time. It's only about ten minutes before I flag Stella down on the opposite side of the road. After a brief break, she and I are ready to find the alburgue. We have a bit of trouble, as it isn't quite where we expect it to be, but we finally get there. It's very attractive, but as we've found, the closer to Santiago, the more the price. It's upscale country Spanish in furnishings, with a pretty courtyard outback. The bunkroom downstairs isn't too huge; upstairs seems to already be claimed by a family of clompers, but perhaps that can't be helped.
We're right by the front window, so we get a bit of fresh air. There are a few sort-of familiar faces which is nice. Dinner is a traditional Spanish meat stew.
There is Santiago Cake for dessert! The cake is a one-layer cake made mostly of ground almonds. It has powdered sugar rather than icing on top. It is dense in texture and rich.


For us, it is a quiet evening afterwards, though apparently the locals are having some festival because it sounds like a combination of canon fire and fireworks someplace and the people running the alburgue have disappeared!



We´re starting to think about the end of our adventure. It is with a mixture of sadness and satisfaction and accomplishment that we approach Santiago. Tears start to form everytime I think about it. It has been a part of my thinking and then planning for a long time and now, soon, it will be a part of my past, though, of course it will always be a part of me. I still don´t know exactly why I have come and I still feel that I don´t need to know. It has certainly been an adventure in every sense. Stella and I have talked about journey stories - Wizard of Oz, Forrest Gump and others - what the journey means, what coming home is about, does it change us, does it change how we see things, both, does it help us change the world, just exactly what difference does the journey make and do we ever understand the difference fully? Perhaps not. It will unfold in a much longer period of time than what it took to make the journey. For tonight, we are ´home´ here in Santa Irene. Soon, we will be home with our loved ones.

Close!

[July 2011 - adding Friday, June 25th & Saturday, June 26th that were not included because of lack of computer access]

Samos to Ferreiros (Friday, June 25th)
We left our beautiful alburgue in Samos early. There was a nice little park between the road and a little river down below with the seemingly requisite pilgrim statue in it on the way out of town.


A lot of the early part of today's walking was wooded and cool. It is very beautiful and, again, almost as if we are walking in a fairytale land. One expects elves or gnomes or some other mythic creatures to appear at almost any time from out behind the trees. Is it any wonder when there are trees like this as part of our journey this day? When I came up to this tree, I stopped to read the sign. And as I stood there, I heard a groan. For a moment, I truly considered the possibility that it was the tree groaning. Wouldn't you? I looked at the tree very hard, expecting to see a face in it somewhere and almost expecting it next to speak, like something out of a movie. Then, I slowly started to walk around the tree on the trail - only to find a pilgrim laid out on the ground, stretching and resting, and groaning! I laughed to myself, and I was glad that I hadn't been on canded camera (or maybe I was!) There is lots of flora to look at, if not so much fauna. We hear the birds calling in the woods.



Though much of our walking this morning was in woods, we did occasionally come across a lone Galician farmhouse or a small village, which generally reminded us of just how poor this area is. The farmer who lives in this house was not far away and I tried to take this picture without him seeing me because I was self-conscious of taking it. I can't imagine living in a house in the condition this one is in. But perhaps the man cannot imagine living any other way, I don't know. This second picture was taken at a much nicer house that had a sign reading "rectory." I have no idea if it means the same thing there or not. The house happened to sit at a choice in paths and the signs were less than helpful to a number of us pilgrims who gathered trying to discern which way to go. While the others tried to figure it out, I decided to take a picture of this traditional Galician cart. Stella caught up to me a few minutes after all the other pilgrims took off in one of the directions and we followed. A short while later, we posed by yet another kind of Camino sign while another pilgrim took our picture:






We enter the city of Sarria a little while later. They are doing a lot of construction on the street on which we enter. There is a Visitor's Office, so we go in and get a map, which is helpful. A picture on the map shows that they have a Corpus Christi flower display here, too. Sarria is an interesting looking city. the first part is fairly flat, and then it becomes the city of 69,000 steps (only a slight exaggeration!) At the bridge where we cross the river (Rio Sarria), there are lots of caravans that look like they they are sort of permanently set up, but they are not open for business right now and the flaps are all pulled down. We have also noticed electric decorations across a lot of the streets. Apparently they have festivals and a fair at least once a month with all of these vendors. They have also just had a major festival as we find out when we duck into a church and they are just putting away one of those wagons with figures on it. On the other side of the river is where we begin all of the steps, and if it isn't steps, it is a very steep incline up the Calle Mayor. At one point, we pause for a breather and talk to a nice guy who snaps our picture. At the very top, we are at least rewarded with a beautiful view of the city below at the Praza San Roque. It's funny. You probably expected that to be Plaza, but it really is Praza. The dialects and spellings have changed several times as we have hiked through provinces and regions and peoples. Keeps pilgrims on their toes!


From Sarria, we head back into the countryside again. As I enter one small village, it is apparently time for the cows to come home. The path I am walking on is perhaps five or six feet wide and defined by stacked rock walls on either side. The cows are in a small field, also defined by rock walls around it, ahead off to the left. The farmer has come to call the cows with her trusty herding dog, opens the gate, then turns and heads back up the path. Most of the cows are smart enough to come back out the gate onto the path, turn left and head back up to the barn-house for milking or feeding or whatever normally awaits them this time of day. But not one lone cow who decides to rebel! She will have none of this following the herd mentality today! She wants to turn right and come down the path towards me! Aaagh! I stop in my tracks while I'm watching all this happen. I can see myself getting flattened into a pancake against the rock wall by this 800 pounds of bovine tempest ahead of me and I'm not enthralled with that prospect. But the dog will brook no rebels this day (or probably any other, either). The dog is firm and keeps barking and running around in front of the cow, nipping at the cow's hooves, not letting the cow go the way it wants to go. The cow bellows. The dog growls. The cow stomps. The dog barks louder. I still haven't moved, because there really isn't anywhere for me to go. And - I'm mesmerized! Finally, the dog gets the upper paw and the cow caves. The cow goes running back to catch up with the others. One can almost hear the dog going "Yes!" rather gloatingly. All in a day's work. I was too busy being mesmerized to get any good pictures of it, but I did get this fine fellow strutting and crowing his stuff as I passed a farm:

Not long after, I pass this very important marker. It is the 100 kilometer marker. That's all the further we have to Santiago!!! Hard to believe, from that first sign we saw at Roncevalles for 870 kilometers. Wow. In order to receive the Compostela, the special certificate, pilgrims have to physically walk the last 100 kilometers. (or do whatever means they are claiming) Another way to look at it is, you only have to do 100 km to get the certificate, which is what some people do, so the traffic picks up a lot from this point on. They actually have "police" checking to see that nobody cheats! So all the rest of what we have walked is icing on the cake in once sense, but for us, we have the experiences, the graces, the strength we have gained, the personal satisfaction of having walked the hundreds of miles that have preceded these last 62 or so. I have my two little rocks from Jerry Hall road with me. And I pull one out and place it on top of the marker. It's the little one on the very top, just to the left of center. This marker, too, makes it very real that our adventure is beginning to come to an end. We're not quite sure we want to think about that just yet.


Not too long before I reach our destination for the night, I come to a woodsy area that has a creek running through it. The creek is shallow but very broad. The people who maintain the Camino have come up with an intriguing solution for the path to keep our feet dry!
Not long after, I enter the little village of Ferreiros where our hostel is. You might guess by looking at it's name that the town has something to do with iron, and the town's name actually means "blacksmiths." There don't seem to be any forges or blacksmiths in sight any longer, however. The hostel is one of the not-terribly attractive, but functional government-run white and blue buildings that looks like a big FEMA trailer. It holds only 18 pilgrims and I am #14. I hope that Stella is not too far behind. She gets in at #17! The bathroom is not great (Stella is so much more tolerable about these things than I am!) But at least we have a bed for the night. There is a rainstorm after we get settled. Afterwards, we have a beer at the little cafe next door. There isn't much of anywhere to explore, but we head down the road and discover a little restaurant. Apparently, it also has an alburgue - if only we'd known! We have a delightful dinner with a very funny waitress. We'll be back in the morning for coffee and tea before we hit the road. As always, the World Cup is on the TV. We climb back up the hill to our no-frills alburgue - well, they gave us mattress and pillow covers in case of bedbugs, I guess that's a frill!






Ferreiros to Ventas de Noran (Saturday, June 26th)
We're out of our trailer-alburgue early and eager to get down the hill for cups of caffe and tee. Then it's off into the early morning mist again. A few kilometers down the road, we begin to hear music wafting through the air. It's Celtic and lilting. It seems so appropriate coming to us through these ancient trees. We're in an area of a little bit of settlement and the music is getting louder. Fiddles and pipes. It's coming from behind a wooden enclosure - we go in the gate only to find a wonderful little spot for a break. A woman has reclaimed (with pictures to prove it!) a derelict set of buildings and turned them into a fabulous little alburgue and cafe. Too bad we didn't know about this last night! But then we wouldn't have had our fun dinner. It's a lovely spot, especially since we are still in the morning mist of the mountains. Finally, we get up to go on as others arrive.


We begin to descend out of the mountains towards the Rio Mino, where we can once again see vineyards. Especially as we get close to the city of Portomarin. Actually, the new city. The original city dated back, perhaps, to Roman times. It had a bridge at least as early as the 10th century. It was a very strategic location, however, so the bridge was destroyed numerous times in various conquests. Until the 1800's, it was also an important commercial center, but developing roadways took traffic elsewhere, so the city shrank. In the 1950's, work began on a major dam and resevoir in order to provide hydroelectricity for the region. Only the most major monuments - the Romanesque churches of San Pedro and San Nicolas (now San Xoan), and the old manor house - were removed to the higher ground where the new city stands, and everything else was flooded. We get a good view of the new city before we cross over.

When the water is lower, you are supposed to be able to see the ruins, but we were not able to see anything. There is just a narrow walkway along the bridge on one side next to the auto traffic. Fortunately, it wasn't too busy on this Saturday morning as we were crossing, as it didn't feel very wide to me. I was glad to be on the other side! Once again, we had to climb UP to get where we were going. One lady had two little matching dogs that seemed to have free reign of the whole town because we kept seeing them everywhere and they weren't paying a bit of attention to her efforts to recall them. We took our time walking around the new city, getting a few things to eat for lunch at the grocery and sitting in the square, people-watching for awhile. We also went into San Xoan. In leaving Portomarin, we had to go across a rather rickety looking footbridge across a river, but it held.


From Portomarin, our journey this day is mostly through fields and groves and through some tiny gatherings of houses and farms such as Toxibo and Gonzar, until we reach our final destination, the lovely little community of Ventas de Naron. This community has no more than a handful of buildings with a couple of alburgues and cafes, but it seems so idyllic with the sheepfold in the middle of all of it! I get registered in the alburgue and grab a bunk, and put down my backpack, then go downstairs to grab a bite to eat and a glass of wine. Stella shows up just about then and, after she gets settled, comes out to join me. As I glance out our window later, this is the view: If sheep may safely graze, then I think we will sleep well here tonight! We share our room with a woman 'a caballo' pilgrim who has a lame horse, but the rest of the bunks remain empty. There is a bit of a rain shower so we have to relocate our laundry quickly under a porch roof. When laundry isn't dry by morning, we just tie it on to the back of our pack and let it air out until it's ready, then stick it away! We have a nice little dinner at our alburgue - there really isn't much choice here. Then ba-a-a-ck to our room to sleep.


Ventas de Noran to Melide (Sunday, June 27th)

Almost all of the last week we haven´t had internet access, so it is a lot to catch up on. I will start with today and as I can, I will fill back in. Guess what? We are 31 miles from Santiago as of tonight!!! Wee Haw! Stella and I did 18 miles, more than 27 km today, plus a few late this afternoon trying to find a place to stay here in Melide. We had planned to have a shorter day, about 18 km, but we got to where we were going to stay, Vilar Casanova, and found that it was not a great alburgue. It was also in the middle of nowhere with nothing of interest around it, and it was only about 12:30. We would have been bored for the rest of the afternoon, so we decided to do about 10 km more and get a little further down the road. We had thought that Melide was supposed to be a little more medieval and attractive than it is, but apparently it is not. It is, however more of a city, and we did have stuff to do this afternoon (walk, walk, walk, look for a place to stay, walk).

It was a gorgeous day. We have been blessed in our weather. Other than the first mountain crossing and the three days of rain on the meseta, we have had lovely and cool weather. We have had rain twice in the evenings after we have arrived, including last evening. Today started out foggy and cool and stayed nice and cool all day until late this afternoon. Today´s walk was mostly wooded and shady, and a good bit downhill and not so steep. There are few villages along the way, but here and there a farm or two. As we left Ventas de Noran, we passed the Cross of Lameiros, which dates from 1672.

There are lots of interesting characters to meet on the Camino. Today, we met John de Verra, a retiree from London, England, but whose family was originally from Verra, Spain. His ancestor fought on the losing side in the Battle of Trafalgar, but eventually became a chandler in the British Navy (we got the WHOLE story). He was quite a character. Travels Europe in his RV now, no strings attached. Made it quite clear, first to me and then to Stella when she came up, that he was looking for a traveling partner. He really was very lonely and was just looking for someone with whom to converse in English. Stella was brave enough to have a cup of coffee with him. If you´ve ever watched the Britcoms and you know what Onslow and Daisy´s dishware looks like on ¨Keeping Up Appearances,¨you´ve got a good idea about how clean (or not) it all was! John used to be a stage director for a West End Theatre and then he was in TV production for a couple of decades for British TV before he was downsized. Now, he wants to travel Italy from top to bottom and France and a few other places. Mostly, he just wants company.

The rest of the journey today was through quiet shaded paths. One of my pre-arrival questions was, are there squirrels in Spain? Well, the answer is yes. But not many. In all the woods and forests and parks and trees that we have walked through and by, I have seen a grand total of two (yes, two) and Stella has seen one. And they are not grey like the ones we have in the US, but dark brown, like the color of a mink coat. I did see something about the same shade of gray in a farmyard yesterday, only it was much bigger. And it had bigger haunches. I didn´t get to see it very well. I suppose it could have been a bunny. But I really think it was more like a very big rat. It certainly wasn´t a cat.

After the big park in which we meet John, and the other woods, we reach the little city of Palas do Rei. For a change, we find ourselves going DOWNhill through much of it. There are some interesting things to see. We poke our head into a church. It is quiet and cool inside. We make a pitstop for lunch in a nice little bar/cafe. I got tired of the heavy cheese sandwiches (and I REALLY can't stand the fatty meats in other sandwiches) weeks ago, so I often get a 'huevos francese' sandwich, which is somewhere between scrambled and fried eggs in between bread. Most of the heavy, chunky bread gets left behind. I am looking forward to lighter, fresher meals!

As we are headed out of Palas do Rei on the other side of town, we find this lovely two-pilgrim statue in a dance. It's hard to get a good picture of it. In Galicia, the Camino is marked more poorly than anywhere else, and we have a moment when we cannot figure out where we are supposed to go. Again, as if God has provided a guardian angel, a man appears from nowhere and points us where we need to go. I know it is obvious that we are pilgrims and I'm sure it is obvious by our faces that we are confused, but we have just been helped like this more times than we can count!


We continue to walk through shady, mostly wooded lands today. We are in the province of A Coruna. We notice for the first time that they have placed litter barrels along the way - and the pilgrims are using them! It's one of the cleaner segments of the Camino! It is very pretty countryside. We stop at a really nice little cafe for a break and they have some interesting clay Celtic jewelry for sale. I find a necklace for Stella as both a birthday present and a memento of our journey together, and a similar one for Mom. Both of them remind me of the pilgrim statue we just saw in Palas do Rei - it is two people dancing, dressed in traditional Galician attire. For Stella, it is a reminder of the wonderful marriage she has with Dave, with whom she has been through so much and who at this very moment is at home redoing her entire kitchen for her! And for Mom, it reminds me of the dance she had with my dad for 53 years.

We meet some more animal friends along the way. Momma is very proud of her baby and is happy to let us scratch her and her baby's ears and muzzles. We are in and out of woodlands, and it is such a peaceful walk. Where there are homes, people invariably have at least one corn crib of a very distinct style. The Spanish (or Galician) name for them is "horreo." I don't really understand the attachment to these corncribs. Even when the homes are in a more suburban area, people will have small, concrete horreos in their yards, like we might have a birdbath. There are small decorative ones made in any material you can imagine to put on your coffeetable or bookshelf, should you so desire!



It would seem that everyone in Spain has a green thumb. The blooms along this part of the Camino, despite the woods and shade in many parts, are vivid colors. People grow flowers everywhere they can and the climate certainly favors it.

Along the way, there is a monument with this Cross of St. James on it.



I'm a little ahead of Stella as I finally reach Melide and cross over this beautiful, stone arch bridge. It is a hot climb up a hill after this. Once again, I'm not sure where to find an alburgue (what was once an alburgue is no longer), and I wait for a while at an intersection where I think Stella can't miss me, but it gets hot, so I wander closer in to the older part of the city. I find a place to sit, at least, and take off the pack. At last, Stella arrives. We decide to have some alemandrado blanco (of course!) before going one more step. We notice a sign on the door for rooms at this little cafe. We go into the city a few blocks further and find that the one main alburgue has been closed and so the other is full. We do not feel like going any further for the night and so we quickly go back to the place where we had the ice cream to see if those rooms are still available. They are and so we splurge monetarily and get one. It is not wonderful except that it is private and, once again, we have real beds instead of bunk beds.

After getting settled in, we go downstairs where we know they have some computers available and try to catch up with some emails home. Then we head out to explore the city some more. It is an interesting little place, though not as attractive as we had expected from the guidebook description. The city is considered the "geographical heart of Galicia." The core of the city is medieval with several old churches and some other buildings. There's a museum here, too.

It is interesting being a pilgrim versus a tourist. There is part of the history and story that we are taking in, and we did the tour of the monastery in Samos, but it is different. The focus is more on the journey and the bigger picture perhaps, not the details? I'm not sure that's really right. Here's another stab at the difference. Tourism is about learning all there is to know about some place - the history and the people and the culture. Pilgrimage is about getting quiet and walking into the depths of the experience of it in time and space. Allowing what is important to saturate you and what is not to slip off. That's closer. It may still be not quite right. Allowing space for what God wants to show you in a particular place and time. Getting closer to what the difference is. There are times when I wish we had more time or energy or money to stop and look at interesting things, although then I wonder why - would I really remember it in the blur of all we have experienced? Now, I remember things about how the layers of leaves felt on the mountain, and how the rain felt like a water pic on the meseta and how sometimes it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other as prayer to say yes to God, and somehow this is more important to me as pilgrimage. Or the conversations I have had and the faces of people I've met, and I think that is the take home, not some display some place in a building.


We have dinner at a little restaurant on the corner of the main streets in downtown. It is wonderful watching everyone go by on this sunny Sunday evening. I'm getting sadder that our great adventure is getting closer to its end, but excited to be reaching our goal. It's such an odd mix of feelings. I can't wait to get to better, healthier food, but I love being outdoors, seeing new places, meeting wonderful people. We walk slowly back to our home for the night.