A Pilgrimage Walk from Le Puy-en-Velay to Santiago de Compostela, 2003. 10. Eighth Week (13-19 June)
Pilgrimage walk from Le Puy-en-Velay to Santiago de Compostela, 2003. Week 8 (13-19 June)
Friday, 13 June, 2003. León. [Day 50. In Spain, Day 17]
We have checked into the Hotel Guzman el Bueno, near the Cathedral. €45 for a double. I couldn’t face the prospect of an albergue. I’m hoping for a good night’s sleep.
Vincent threw up last night, in the bathroom. The noise woke me up. I stayed awake, in case this was an emergency. Nothing more, though. This morning he seemed fine so I decided not to ask him what happened.
After breakfast, Caroline and I left Mansilla for a dullish walk through desiccated countryside, continuing from a hilltop down into León, a large, historic city, like Burgos. Not too far into the center city we reached the large albergue run by a convent. We were undecided: should we stay or go to a hotel, as I had originally planned? Caroline used the ladies WC – a dirty toilet, she reported – and sent me up to look at the dorm. Crammed with bunk beds under a low ceiling, it promised a night that would be hot, stuffy, and claustrophobic. And the two hospitaleras, signing people in, paid no attention to us as we were contemplating whether or not to stay. So off we went. We got a city map at the Tourism Office across from the Cathedral and quickly found a hotel room, nearby.
After showering, we went out for a late lunch: pizza (vegetarian) and salad, with beer and coffee and water. It was very hot – 36° C flashed on one computerized billboard. I felt desiccated and tired.
Nonetheless, some sightseeing was in order. After finishing lunch, we visited first the Basilica of San Isidoro (11th century) and its museum with its Panteón / “Pantheon” (the tombs of several early rulers), a cloister, a treasury with wonderful fragments of Islamic silk, and a 16th century library with a collection of medieval manuscripts and early printed books. After this, on to the Gothic cathedral (13th century) with its fabulous stained glass windows.
I remembered this cathedral from my 1970 trip with Rigel; the stained glass made a huge impression. Otherwise all I remember of León was a late dinner at a good restaurant that started to fill at 10 p.m. with well-dressed people – and where we were overcharged.
Concerning our return from Santiago to Paris, we stopped in a travel agency to enquire but the young employee had no idea how to arrange this. Later, while I took a nap, Caroline went to the RENFE (railway) station and learned that tickets could be purchased, but strikes are threatened (in France) from the 19th of June. So she didn’t buy anything. I was agitated, because I have a plane ticket from Paris to Ankara on a particular date, in order to get to the Kinet Höyük excavations not long after they begin, but then I realized I could do nothing about it now. So why not calm down? This is one important lesson of the Camino, brought home to Caroline when she had forgotten her hat in Logroño: don't worry needlessly.
We finished our late afternoon outing in a big electronic games parlor filled with teenage boys where we checked the internet.
Saturday, 14 June, 2003. Hospital de Orbigo. [Day 51. In Spain, Day 18]
We’re staying in the parochial albergue in the center of town. It's an old house with a court and an attractive backyard with many benches, chairs, and tables where one can sit and write, but an upgrading of the facilities is definitely needed. Our room has 12 people, I think. We are in top bunks, as usual. I’m hoping for decent sleep, but we’ll see.
Yesterday evening in León we had an excellent dinner at a restaurant near the hotel. I had “revuelto” – scrambled eggs wıth porcini mushrooms; pork loin with sweet red peppers; French fries; and for dessert, a strawberry cream (like a pudding). Caroline had melon with ham, and fish. After dinner, we went for a walk – Caroline insisted. A lively night life even at this late hour, with bars full and lots of people in the streets. It's very relaxed in these big Spanish cities, which is nice to see.
This morning, we had coffee and croissants at the Hotel Paris, whose bar opened at 7:30 a.m., just as we arrived.
We walked on through the picturesque city center, eventually passing by the magnificent San Marcos complex
(once a monastery and the local center for the prestigious Order of Santiago, now an elegant hotel and museum).
Afterwards, however, the exit from León was long and dull, with almost 7 km of nondescript modern streets, then warehouses, etc. At least it was morning, not yet hot and without much traffic.
After more dry Meseta landscape (we were walking parallel to the road most of the time, sometimes on it), we eventually came to our lunch stop, Villadangos. We ate our lunch on benches on the shaded porch of the Ayuntamiento (city hall), then had coffee in a bar. My first solo grande! A larger espresso than usual, to which I added sugar – which kept me going through the afternoon.
And the landscape quickly changed! Fields were greener, and mountains appeared ahead of us. On we pushed to Hospital de Orbigo, with its wonderful multi-arched bridge, medieval with later renovations.
I felt lightened up this afternoon, I felt an opening up of the soul.
An observation from Caroline: people on the Camino do not criticize others, or make fun of others, but treat people in a friendly, courteous manner. Also, there is trust. Different from life off the Camino.
Jivad and David, whom we first met in Zubiri, our second stop in Spain, have reappeared. Last night, they reported, in the municipal albergue in León, two drunk Americans came in at 3 a.m. One peed in the middle of the dorm, hitting people’s packs, while another climbed into bed with a Spanish woman, her husband sleeping below. In the ruckus that followed, the Americans fled and everyone had their sleep ruined. So, behavior on the Camino is not always courteous.
I’m off now to find Caroline, Neil, and Bob, who are having a beer someplace. Then dinner – which, I'm adding later, will turn out to be an excellent sopa de verdura (vegetable soup) followed by chicken and French fries.
Sunday, 15 June, 2003. Rabanal del Camino. [Day 52. In Spain, Day 19]
It's 8:15 p.m. The hostel of the (British) Confraternity of St. James was our first choice, since it is much touted in the guidebook by David Wesson that we are using. But it was full so we had to look elsewhere. We're in Pilar's hostel, which has a nice courtyard with a bar, and clean WCs and showers.
The dorm sleeps 50-ish. Lots of people here. The two Dutchmen we met in the French section of the Camino have reappeared; we haven't seen them since Puente la Reina!
Today the walk was long: 36 km. For the first leg, to San Justo de la Vega, we took the scenic route, not the shorter road route. This road turned out to be green and hilly, very attractive. At 11 a.m. we stopped in a bar in San Justo, for coffee and a snack. On to Astorga, only 5 km further, a small city located on a low hill, like a platform.
Roman walls are visible and a section of Roman houses (with mosaics) has been excavated and preserved for display. We walked into the town center to see the Cathedral and the Episcopal Palace,
this last designed by the Barcelonan architect, Antonio Gaudi.
(apologies for the distortion of the verticals at the right)
Loads of pastry shops were open, for the mantecadas (cookies like French madeleines, or American pound cake) are a specialty, and we bought a boxful. We spent an hour in Astorga; then at 1 p.m. we set off westwards. Hot and dry midday. The next 19 km involved a slow but steady climb of 350 m. We stopped for lunch at the first opportunity, in Murias del Rechivaldo, and 9 km later, in El Ganso at the “Country Bar” – yes, that was its name – for a final snack before the last 6-7 km up to Rabanal.
After Murias the landscape has changed. It's hilly, with reddish soil and oak trees. Settlements are few. This remote, rugged region is called the Maragataría and it has its special history and customs.
Monday, 16 June, 2003. Molinaseca. [Day 53. In Spain, Day 20]
10 p.m. Caroline and I are in a tent for two, part of the housing in this albergue just outside this picturesque town. My usual middle of the night trip to the WC will be a challenge, though, across a field (with a large hold in the middle) to the outhouses.
We started the day with a walk uphill to 1500 m to the Iron Cross (Cruz de Ferro, in Galician, Cruz de Hierro in Spanish, or Castellano as it's called here in Spain), an iron cross atop a tall wooden pole, located on a high point with great views.
Following tradition, we leave a stone at the base. As we learned from Nekane, this rock could symbolize sins one wants to give up. For others, it might be burdens one hopes to be free of, or it could be a stone from one's home, given in thanks for this pilgrimage. I wouldn't call this a picturesque monument but it is an important landmark on the Camino. The trail then heads downhill to Riego de Ambrós, altitude 920 m., and Molinaseca, at 595 m. The walk down to Riego was unappealing. Much haze and fog; the hills were still fairly barren except for heather and broom; and much of the time we were walking on the asphalt road.
At 11 a.m, we stopped at a café, chez Tomas, in Manjarin only a short distance beyond the “Cruz de Ferro.” The place is better described as an eccentric lair. We arrived just in time for a totally unexpected ritual with dramatic bell ringing, a flourishing of Knights Templar-type capes and swords, and prayers for pilgrims and for peace in the world.
Further along we saw two female goats rearing up and butting heads.
In Riego, we picnicked at an attractive bar. “On parle français” (= French spoken) read the sign, and indeed while we were there two pairs of French women arrived for lemonade and coffee. The walk down to Molinaseca, on a trail most of the way, not the asphalt, was enjoyable, across slopes of cistus (a word I didn't know, but the plant is so identified in our guidebook), a bush with incense-like perfume.
An excellent dinner this evening, in town: a mixed salad and alcachofas con jamón (artichokes with ham, a first). Caroline and I conversed about religion and the Catholic Church, appropriate for this last part of our journey.
Both of us are feeling fatigued. The long days of walking, the heat, and I’m tired of washing clothes, staying in albergues, the not-so-clean facilities, and sleeping poorly.
Tuesday, 17 June, 2003. Villafranca del Bierzo. [Day 54. In Spain, Day 21]
A very attractive town, not so high (511 m), but nestled in the the foothills of higher mountains that separate the Ponferrada/Bierzo valley from Galicia to the west. It's windy as I write, but not yet chilly. We’re staying in the municipal albergue. Two Frenchmen, who registered in the private hostel praised in their guidebook, came to check this hostel, reporting that theirs was déguelasse (= disgusting).
I slept well last night, in the tent. Who would have guessed? As always, we were the last to depart, today at 7:45 a.m. after coffee from a vending machine at the albergue and two of the mantecadas bought in Astorga. The route to Ponferrada was partly on the road, partly in fields. We walked with Karin (Austrian) and Dave (American; married, but not to Karin), first met in Hospital de Orbigo. Karin researches fashion trends. Dave has been travelling around the world with his wife, but they spent the past nine months in Barcelona.
Ponferrada has an impressive castle looking just as a castle should, with dramatic turrets, towers, and crenellations, built by the Knights Templar in the 13th century.
The old town has picturesque sections, too. Elsewhere, though, some depressing scenes, such as a large slag area with not a plant in sight, the result of coal mining and other industrial activity.
I bought train tickets for the return to Paris, for 27 June. A strike has just taken place on the French SNCF (the national railway), but the ticket seller, who seemed very competent, knew nothing of strikes planned for this week or next. I feel reassured.
Ponferrada’s western suburbs stretched on and on. Much walking on a paved road. Eventually, though, after our picnic in Camponaraya, we hit a beautiful stretch through vineyards. Even after the vineyards, the route remained attractive all the way here.
Wednesday, 18 June, 2003. O Cebreiro. [Day 55. In Spain, Day 22]
Caroline and I have a room in a hostal (a hostal is a simple hotel), Venta Celtas, in a beautiful room (for €36), the albergue here having floor room only. What a gorgeous day! Here on this mountain crest the views are superb in all directions.
The people in the bunks below us departed at 5:15 this morning. In the following hour, many others went off, making much noise. We left at 7:30 to go have breakfast in the Plaza Mayor.
The walk today: wonderful. Last night Jivad and David told me about the cheap (€2) service of transporting packs from Villafranca up to Cebreiro. This morning I decided to take advantage of this, but Caroline carried her pack (lightened slightly). Freed of my backpack I was able to walk more comfortably and take what our guidebook called the “strenuous” high-level scenic route via Pradela, arriving here, at an elevation of 1300 m, not particularly tired.
We have now passed into Galicia, our last Spanish province.
The countryside is green, with trees and bushes, too, a complete change from the western meseta. Because it was a sunny day, colors and vistas were clear.
Dinner yesterday, in Villafranca del Bierzo: Caroline and I took a stroll before dinner (after my cold shower) and stopped for a glass of Bierzo wine. We joined a large group at a restaurant in the Plaza Mayor – Neil, Vincent (who reappeared, last seen in Astorga in front of the Cathedral and the Palacio Gaudi), an Australian mother and daughter (I didn't catch their names), Jivad and David, and Karin and the other Dave. We had: ensaladas mixtas, and pizzas (one with chorizo, another with artichokes). We started in rather late, so I had to concentrate on finishing my meal in order for us to get back to the albergue by closing time (10:30 p.m.).
Thursday, 19 June, 2003. Samos. [Day 56. In Spain, Day 23]
A great walk down from O Cebreiro to Samos. Very clear all day, with fabulous views of the green Galician countryside.
The villages have solidly built stone houses with slate roofs, but the public areas look neglected (cow dung everywhere). I can’t tell if these farms are poor or prosperous. I’m guessing the former.
Lunch stop in Triacastela, by which time it was very hot. We had boccadillos instead of our usual picnic of bread, cheese, tomatoes, and fruit – a disappointment. Then on to Samos (nothing to do with the Greek island of the same name, by the way). After some road walking (hot), we continued on a shaded trail to Samos with its large Benedictine monastery that dominates a secluded vale.
The hostel, run by the monastery, ocupies one large room. It's well organized by hospitaleros Hervé (from St. Jean Pied-de-Port, who told me he had met the number 2 at the US Embassy in Ankara) and another, whose name I have forgotten, who comes from the Basque region here in Spain. According to their system, early risers are to take beds on the side near the washrooms, late risers on the other side, further away. Very sensible, and it worked. Hervé was clearly someone used to running things.
We took a formal tour of the monastery, given in Spanish.
The building is huge, with two large cloisters. Later, I attended Vespers in a chapel, and Mass in the grandiose 18th c. church, a service which concluded with adoration of the host. Periodic Masses on this trip have kept my spirits up.
We went for dinner across the street, at an Argentinian-style restaurant featuring grilled meat.
Various friends are here in this albergue: Vincent, Dave and Karin (US and Austria), Jivad and David (the American students), and Julia and Ilana, two undergraduates from the Hartford area who started in Ponferrada.
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