Somos Peregrinos

Now, the post you've all been waiting for!

This Easter, my friends Cecilia, Dave, and I decided we would attempt the Camino de Santiago, or St. James' Way. While many at home will not have heard of the Camino, within Europe and Catholicism it is known as one of the most important religious pilgrimages, right behind Jerusalem and Rome. It has been traveled for more than a thousand years, attracting pilgrims from all over Europe since the remains of St. James were discovered in Galicia in the 8th century. The myth is that James, the brother of John, was martyred in Jerusalem and his body shipped to the Iberian Peninsula, where he had preached earlier in life. A storm struck off the coast of Galicia (known as A Costa da Morte or "The Coast of Death") and the boat sank, losing James' body to the sea. Shortly thereafter, however, his body washed up on shore, undamaged and covered in shells. To this day, the shell is the symbol of the Camino de Santiago. Anyone who makes a pilgrimage to the tomb of the Apostle, attends Mass in the Cathedral and confesses his sins is given a plenary indulgence by the Catholic church, a Get-Out-of-Purgatory-Free card, so to speak.

Today the Camino is very highly traveled, attracting tens of thousands of pilgrims from around the world, for the above reason, and for more personal and secular reasons as well.

Which brings me to our pilgrimage. We would be attempting the Camino on the most famous and well-developed route, which passes through León, south of Asturias. From there it is some 300 odd kilometers (~200 miles) to Santiago. We would have Easter break to complete it. I had spoken with the parents of my students, 13- and 14-year-old Ali and Patri, about how I would be attempting the Camino, and to my great surprise and gratitude they offered to lend me a bike. And so I would be using a primary-colored bike fondly dubbed "Beef" after I misread one of its (his, actually) decals.



Thursday March 25, Oviedo-León

So, Thursday afternoon we put our bikes on the train, and 1 1/2 hours later arrived in the city of León. There we sampled some of the local food, such as morcilla. Morcilla is one of those things you should eat and never ask what it's made of. It is very delicious; kind of a spicier, classier sloppy joe spread on toast . . . that happens to be made of blood and rice. The greatest thing about León is the extensive practice of tapas. In every locale, if you order a drink, you get a snack alongside, be it chips, tortilla, jamón, or morcilla.

After sampling the tapeo leonés a bit, we turned in for the night. We stayed in a monastery, complete with nuns, a vegetable garden, and a chapel. That evening before our trek, we attended a special pilgrims' service to bless our journey. I understood everything the pious old Spanish nun was saying. She was very adamant on one point, that we are not on vacation, we are pilgrims, and pilgrims of luxury as compared to the Middle Ages when people regularly died attempting the journey. The basic message was: you will suffer. If you aren't suffering then you aren't doing it right. In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti, AMEN.

Accommodation

Over the next week, that stern nun would appear in our minds as we climbed mountains, as we rode through rainstorms, as we bruised, cut, strained and abused our bodies. I may not have quite the same views and beliefs as her, but we can agree, this was not a relaxing vacation we were embarking on. This was a physical and psychological challenge unmatched by anything in my previous experience. We got in our bunk beds and tried to sleep as much as possible before the morning, restless with anticipation.


Friday March 26, León-Astorga. ~50 km (~30 mi)

Attempted pictures with the León cathedral before beginning

And they're off! Keeping an eye out for shells and yellow arrows, we followed the Camino out of León. When considering which route to take, one benefit we saw with León was that it is much flatter and drier than if we'd gone from Oviedo. Well, naturally, the first day of our journey, it rained quite heavily, during most of the rolling hills we came across. It was when the wind began to blow, though, that I really became discouraged. With that cold, invisible force against me, it was hard not to imagine God himself pushing me backward. The landscape didn't help the mood either; grey, sparse, bleak, industrial.


That first day was almost certainly the hardest for me. I very quickly realized how completely unprepared I was. All the training we did was a total joke. I hadn't brought warm enough clothes, and I felt the bike was already failing me. I probably should have also brought my inhaler; that might've been smart.


The discouraging start did get better, though. As we neared Astorga the landscape became much more wooded and green, and we got away from the main highway and onto secluded dirt paths. It looked very much like the dirt roads I used to bike growing up in the valley. After climbing the last hill before our destination, we were greeted by some Catalonian hippies and their snack shack called La Casa de los Dioses. There they offered us some of their all-organic fair-trade environmentally-friendly fruit, nuts and bizcocho cake.

hippie shack

6k from Astorga, Cathedral in the center background

Feeling renewed, we made it the next 6k to Astorga and dropped our things at the next pilgrim's hostel. We got there early enough to be able to enjoy the sights, such as the Gaudí Palace, and the Cathedral. It is a very pretty little medieval city, built on a hill. Apparently it was at one time the capital of Asturias. I'm guessing it's famous for chocolate as well, because every other shop was a bombonería.

Gaudi Palace

Holy Week (Semana Santa) is well advertised in Spain

Saturday March 27, Astorga-Villafranca del Bierzo ~80 km (~50 mi)

I awoke the second day quite sore, and not terribly motivated, but I got on the bike and followed Dave and Cecilia out of town. After Astorga the terrain starts to get interesting. As you can see in this graph, there is a 700 meter (2,300 feet) rise in elevation after Astorga, up to Cruz de Ferro.


At this point each of our different strengths (or amount of strength) became evident. Dave blasted ahead happy as can be, and Cecilia was a good distance ahead of me too. It is very discouraging being left behind, but each person really has to take these kinds of challenges at their own pace. We got so far apart, though, that we lost Dave for a bit, as he'd gone way ahead, waited, missed us, gone back to look .... Eventually we all powered up to the "roof" of the Camino, Cruz de Ferro. As its name suggests, it is a large iron cross. Pilgrims carry stones up this mountain, and then throw them at the foot of the cross as a symbol of casting off their sins.



From here it was a bit downhill to Manjarín, which is little more than a shack which sells touristic kitsch. Supposedly they also have something to do with the Knights Templar ...



From there it was 1,000 glorious meters of descent (3,300 feet), giving our legs a deserved rest and putting our brakes to the test. It was incredible to see what a difference the altitude made. At Manjarín I touched snow and it looked like late winter still. As we neared Ponferrada everything became more and more green, and the fruit trees began to blossom.

descending

In Ponferrada we stopped for an hour or two to eat lunch and look around. Ponferrada is most famous for its castle, which looks just exactly how you imagine a European castle should look, with a moat, turrets, flags, a drawbridge, etc.

Moat-side lunch

After also indulging ourselves at this posh bakery next to the castle, we continued on yet another leg. This was one of my favorite stages that we did. We rode along quiet country roads, passing gardens, lettuce patches, tractors, vineyards, and quaint little one-chapel villages. If you've ever seen Triplets of Belleville, you can imagine my sheer joy when I cycled past an old woman with one leg shorter than the other (and thus one shoe taller than the other) and a man with a bulbous wine-o nose. If you haven't seen the movie I suggest it. It's likely the best French cartoon you will ever see. During most of the journey I imagined myself as the main character, who cycles constantly throughout the movie and has absurdly large leg muscles.

Cycling in the Bierzo region of León

That night we stayed in Villafranca and had a hearty dinner for just 5 euros as part of the hostel's amenities. We met some other bikers there who we would end up seeing every single night from then on, almost to a creepy extent.

The day was the most ambitious we attempted. Not only did we cycle 50 miles, but up and down a bona fide mountain! I am still not sure how I did that. It is truly amazing what you can make your body do with the right encouragement.


Sunday March 28, Villafranca-Somas ~60 km (38 mi)

And so, with that mountain behind, we set out the next day to conquer another. We had been warned numerous times what a trial this stage is. This time we would have to climb 900 meters (3,000 feet), at times as steep as a 20% grade! Yesterday seemed flat in comparison.

seriously steep! Cecilia and I walked about 2k of it. (Dave cycled it all).

Back into winter

At long last we reached the village of O Cebreiro, and took our first steps into Galicia! The change was instantly apparent. There was Celtic music playing, pulpo a la gallega (octopus) on the menu, and the people had a noticeable accent, like Italian almost.

Some people do the Camino on horseback!

We had a good lunch of pulpo, fries and tortilla, then once again began the descent. It wasn't as much of an instant reward this time, we had to go up a few more hills, but once the downhill began, it was lots of fun. With the road wide open for miles, we zoomed down without a care in the world. We must have been going 30 mph at least (48km/h). Once again, we entered spring, and the typical green of Galicia.

Spent the night in Samos, a lovely town along the river. From here on the number of pilgrims increased noticeably and we were no longer able to stay in the free hostels, which give preference to walkers. But having a real shower and not being surrounded at night by 20 old men snoring was a welcome change.

springtime

Monastery on the river

Monday March 29, Samos-Ventas de Narón

We had a good morning, even though our good weather had run out, it wasn't terrible. From here on the terrain was an endless series of green rolling hills and small streams. We decided not to ride on the highway. Even though it is faster, it is also extremely boring and demoralizing. We rode on the highways a couple times and the Camino quickly becomes a tedious grind, constantly being passed by lunatic drivers. Instead we went on dirt trails, and I really felt like I was mountain biking--bouncing over rocks, both my brakes fully engaged, through mud and streams.

We had lunch in Portomarín, which is a really pretty town on a large river. After lunch though the weather went from unpleasant to atrocious. We stopped in the town of Ventas, soaked to the bone, and tried to find lodging. To my utter despair, they informed us that all of the hostels and inns in this village and the next were full. This was the first extreme low point for me. When Dave suggested cycling 10 more kilometers to a larger town, Palas de Rei, I about cried. Thanks to the kindness of one of the innkeepers, we were able to get a spot on the floor, and even snag a couple beds when pilgrims didn't show up for their reservation. To sum up the day, I kept a little log in my phone. It was simple: Rain. Can't get warm. Can't get dry.


Tuesday March 30, Ventas-Arzúa ~45 km (28 mi)

Well, I did eventually get warm and dry, and we started out the next day in better spirits. We decided to take it easy from here on. Though we could have conceivably gone all the way to Santiago, I was having fun seeing the little villages and not feeling rushed. It rained a little bit, on and off, not enough to really bother me, but enough to keep the trails plenty muddy. There were moments when you had to shift into low gear and power through the mud, it was so deep and sticky. Even through terrain like this we were still blasting past the walkers.

I found my attitude towards the pedestrians had changed significantly over the trip. At the beginning it was nice to just see other people, and we'd greet them with "¡Buen camino!" Now though they were an annoyance more than anything else, walking six abreast at a snail's pace, oblivious to the world around them. I instead had to greet them with "¡Cuidado!" (Look out!), nearly colliding with numerous pilgrims who jumped like startled deer in front of us.

We leisurely rolled into Arzúa, and proceeded to make this ugly little town all the grimier. As we dismounted and took a look at each other, we saw how comically filthy we all were. What with mud covering me front and back and drenched in sweat, I'd venture to say this was the dirtiest I have ever been.




After showering ourselves and all of our muddy clothing, and mopping up the trail of dirt we'd left behind, we sought out the best comfort a tired traveler can find--loads of calorie dense food. I neglected to mention before, but this was a part of the trip I particularly enjoyed. After cycling for six hours and burning thousands and thousands of calories, it became tradition each day to eat obscenely large meals. If you've ever been traveling and wished you could have sampled more food, I'd suggest you cycle 30 miles between meals; it's incredible how much you can eat. I have never eaten so many Menú del Día in my life--full three-course meals with soups, meat, seafood, bread, drinks and dessert. Spanish food is not terribly rich in fruits and vegetables, however, which we found quite necessary to supplement before long...


Wednesday March 31, Arzúa-Santiago de Compostela. 38 km (24 mi)

The final leg! Santiago was within reach now. Even so, I inexplicably found this day the most psychologically challenging of the journey. Everything was wearing out. My knee was aching from days of exercise, my bike was in a pitiful state, and I was mentally exhausted of pushing myself around the next bend, over the next hill. I was close to despair at times. We got to Monte de Gozo, and I saw, finally finally, I had climbed the last hill.

We had a quick pick-me-up, snapped a few photos, and made our descent into the city.

SUCCESS! We made it to our hostel.

Look at poor Beef.

Triumphant smile

It turns out the average tourist is a horrid photographer. This is the best we could get of all three of us. My eyes might be closed and the top of the cathedral cut off, but here it is, proof of our achievement!

The next morning, as sure proof of his insanity, Dave got back on his bike and began to do the Camino in reverse back to León. Cecilia and I were having nothing of that however, and we proceeded to celebrate our accomplishment in true Galician style. We unabashedly sampled all the seafood, jamón, croquettes, cakes, cookies, tapas and wine we could get our hands on. We took the bus to A Coruña for a few days to continue this celebration on the coast. There we rested and relaxed, went shopping, went to the beach, sampled the best octopus in the world, and devoured tarta de Santiago in bed. It was amazing, and well-deserved. I really enjoyed A Coruña, it may have the worst weather in all of Spain, with rain every hour on the hour, but is extremely beautiful, with a great nightlife and cuisine, beach, port, and gorgeous architecture. One of my favorite cities in Spain, for sure.

Big ole anchor

Eating icecream at the Torre de Hercules, the oldest functioning Roman lighthouse in the world. or something.

Octopus, the theme of the trip.

A Coruña has beautiful and ornate glass covered buildings.

As luck would have it we stumbled upon a procession of sorts on Good Friday

Widows of solitude, I think these ladies are called.

One of these things is not like the other . . . Don't worry, she's not a klan member, the Spanish did the pointy hat thing first. Still totally freaks me out.

Then we returned to Santiago for Sunday Mass. It was nice. There is an enormous censer (or incensorio) which they swing across the entire length of the transept. You can kind of see it here.

incense

Here is a better picture of us and the Cathedral.

Posing with Jesus and St. James: terribly tasteless, and potentially blasphemous, but . . . priceless.

Reliquary of the Cathedral. Each of those shelves has a little box with a piece of the true cross, or the shroud, or tooth of a saint, etc.

The Cathedral from a nearby park.

After 11 challenging, inspiring, extraordinary days, it was time to go home. We hopped on a bus and bade farewell to Santiago and Galicia. In retrospect, I would have done many things differently. I would have trained better, used a higher quality bike, and dressed more for the weather. But I wouldn't give up the experience for the world. Cycling is the absolute best way to tour. I am now familiar with so many parts of Spain, seen villages and mountains and vineyards at a human pace, met new people, and forged friendships I will never forget. What's more, the sense of physical and spiritual accomplishment I now have is something I'll keep with me all my life.
Pilgrimage: Check.