Oct '05 Travel Story: The Pilgrim's Path on a Friday

A tribute to my father By Joseph R. Garcia

AS I STEPPED out of our rented car in Santiago de Compostela after our seven day cycling adventure across Spain, I realized to my horror that I was missing my camera containing 80 pictures of the 280 mile trip along the Pilgrim’s Path.

I broke into a cold sweat as I considered the implications of this loss. We were about to join our traveling companions one last time before we dispersed. We were meeting in front of the huge cathedral to observe the rare use of the enormous incense burner called the botafumeiro which would be swung from the ceiling through the interior of the church to dispense the holy substance over the crowd.

But I couldn’t keep our appointment because I had to find the camera. I told my companion to go ahead to the cathedral and I would catch up, and then I began my search inside the car. In the dark garage it was difficult to see anything but I checked every place I could think of. Then I started to run back up the garage ramp and along the streets of Santiago where I had come from the car rental agency.

Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela.

Running through the streets, still in my cycling clothes and shoes, I started to go back over the events of the seven previous days in an effort to try and solidify my memories which at this point seemed to be the only record I would have of the fantastic trip I had just completed. As I came to the spot where I thought the camera had fallen out of the car, I walked slowly up and down the street, a look of misery on my face. I went into numerous stores asking if a camera had been turned in, to no avail. When I finally gave up and started walking back to the garage, I tried to get hold of my emotions by telling myself that God has a Plan. I didn’t know what that Plan was, but clearly it involved losing my camera. I resigned myself to the loss and concluded that I would get the camera back if God’s Plan provided for it. I thought that my father would have approved of the way I was dealing with the situation.

The priest who loved to travel. My father was born in 1910 in a small village called Rioseco de Soria, in Spain, and died in 1999 in New Jersey. He left the village as a young man to become a priest. He studied and traveled in France and Italy, returning in the mid-1930’s to serve as chaplain in Franco’s army during the Spanish Civil War. My father ultimately came to America, left the priesthood, and married in 1953, myself being the product of that union. In 2004, the thought occurred to me that it would be appropriate to trek along the Pilgrim’s Path in northern Spain, only a few hours north of the village, in commemoration of my father’s involvement in the priesthood and his love of travel.

Many paths, one destination. The Pilgrim’s Path has many routes in Spain to Santiago de Compostela in Galicia, where legend has it that St. James the Apostle’s bones are buried. The principal one runs from the Pyrenees across northern Spain and is known as the Camino Francés, or “French Pilgrim’s Path”, because pilgrims from France followed it once they crossed the Pyrenees.

The route dates from around 800 A.D., when a tomb at Santiago was pronounced by the Church as being that of the apostle St. James, and a great cathedral was eventually erected on the site. The discovery was interpreted as a sign of favor from God, and served to unite the Christians against the then-recent invasion of Spain by the Arabs. The pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela became the Christian equivalent of the pilgrimage to Mecca, and is one of the three traditional Catholic pilgrimage routes, the other two being to Jerusalem and to Rome.

While many pilgrims still make the trek to Santiago for religious reasons, others do so for different but no less significant reasons, and their efforts are recognized by the authorities in Santiago. If the pilgrim is diligent about having his “passport” stamped along the route at churches, hostels and inns at least once a day, and travels a minimum amount of distance from beginning to end, he is eligible to receive a “Compostela” or certificate of completion. The Compostela takes one form if the trip was made for religious motives and a different form if other motives were involved.

Preparing my steed for the journey. Not having the three months or so necessary to make a pilgrimage on foot, I thought I would try to travel as far as two weeks would allow on bicycle.

My cousin’s husband, Toni, who lives in Madrid and is an avid cyclist, was up for the trip, so we began our planning in 2004. I purchased a folding bike (Bike Friday) that I could get used to in advance, since I did not trust my 50+ body to be able to adapt to a strange bike in a day or two to make this kind of trip. The bike packs compactly into a standard Samsonite suitcase which can be purchased along with the bike, and enables shipping of the bike without paying additional airline charges.

I equipped the bike with a suspension fork and suspension seat post, bar-end extensions, off-road tires, fenders, and a three speed internal hub combined with an 8-speed derailleur. This eliminated the need for a three-speed front chainwheel, and enabled me to select any combination of gears without worrying about the chain being put through extreme alignments.

I added dual-mode SPD pedals that allowed both cleated and non-cleated shoes, in the event that I might experience a mishap with my shoes. I decided to try SPD sandals because of their great comfort, but I brought along a pair of regular SPD shoes as well just in case. I kept my load to just two mid-size rear panniers plus a sleeping bag and pad, depending on washing and eating facilities along the way to eliminate the need for additional clothes and cooking supplies.

8 days thorough 1,200 years. Due to numerous unforeseen problems at my office, and my partner’s coming down with a bad cold before the start, our two-week trip was reduced to just 8 days. To determine our starting point, we decided to be conservative and planned on doing 50 kilometers, or about 30 miles a day. Although this sounds impossibly low, we decided to play it safe because we were planning to ride dirt and gravel tracks and did not know how difficult they would be to traverse.

We also wanted to have time to enjoy the many historic, cultural, religious and scenic attractions along the way, since the pilgrimage has been an integral part of the Spanish consciousness for the past 1,200 years.

As it turns out, our conservative schedule allowed us to maintain a comfortable pace and still get to Santiago a day earlier than anticipated. We based our information on numerous books available from the Confraternity of St. James in England (they have a web site) and on several Spanish-language books (we are both fluent in Spanish). The English books are helpful although the Spanish books were the most useful in that they provided route profiles. The actual books used are listed at the end of this article. In this day of international web-based buying it will not be difficult for the determined person to obtain the books over the internet.

Tennis-ball-sized rocks. We started at Frómista, outside Burgos, courtesy of my cousins who drove us the two hours from Rioseco, my father’s village. Frómista is the mid-point of the Camino Francés from the Pyrenees to Santiago. It is also the point at which it merges with the pilgrimage route from Santander. The route through Castilla-León was typically flat and hot, with little shade and few towns. The countryside looks like a rolling ocean of tilled fields. This stage was originally one of the most arduous for early pilgrims, due to lack of water and the presence of wolves. Despite the addition of pilgrim rest stops it still is difficult today. While we were on a particularly challenging stretch of the trail strewn with tennis-ball-sized loose rocks, a car coming in the opposite direction was stopping to provide water to thirsty pilgrims.

5 euros to lay one's weary helmet. We ended at Sahagún that day, a distance of 60 km., in a renovated convent serving as a pilgrim hostel or albergue. The cost of 5 euros per person for the night included cooking and washing facilities, hot showers, indoor bike storage and comfortable bunk beds. This level of bargain pricing would continue to be the norm for the duration of the trip. My companion and I also reached agreement as to how we would schedule our riding and eating during the day. This was important because of the enormous difference between Spanish and American eating habits.

Eating “the way God intended”: octopus and local wine at a restaurant in Melide.

Slow, satisfying food. I explained to Toni that when I did long bike rides I would have a big breakfast, a big dinner, and nothing much in between other than Cokes and brownies. He was aghast, remarking that this is not how God intended for people to eat. By the end of the second day, we had settled on a happy schedule of 4 meals a day: a light breakfast of expresso with hot milk and a croissant or toast, cycling until a light late morning snack of an omelette or Spanish ham and cheese on a baguette and another “café cortao”, more cycling until a big mid-afternoon meal usually of soup and meat, French fries, bread, wine, another “cortao” and dessert, and finally more cycling until a light late evening meal of tapas or fish and wine. All this was consumed at small bars, pilgrim hostels and restaurants along the route. Not once did we see a “fast-food” joint.

I saw how this regimen could have been divinely ordained, since I managed to lose weight and gain strength on this diet over the course of our trip. No doubt, the salutatory effect of consuming large quantities of wine and powerful coffee each day also helped. There were more than enough places in the villages and towns along the route to make this routine possible, since pilgrims on foot cover significantly less distance than we did on our bikes, and places have existed on the Camino to cater to pilgrims for 1,200 years.

Our second day was more of the same kind of wide open spaces, covering about 80km due to the flatness of the route and ending at another very nice albergue in Villadangos del Paramo. We bypassed the city of León on the way, detouring instead to meet some friends of Toni’s in the León suburbs, and dining in a restaurant set inside caves formerly used to make wine. Enormous tree-trunk sized beams used to press the grapes were still in place inside the caves amongst the tables. As a note of caution, the route out of León was not well marked and we lost it numerous times, so a map of the route and a knowledge of the next towns along the route are particularly helpful on this section.

Heroic bridge. We breakfasted in Hospital de Órbigo on the third day. This town boasts a medieval bridge known as the Way of Honor in commemoration of a heroic deed said to have taken place in the 15th century. A knight, stung by rejection of his romantic overtures to a noblewoman, swore that for a full month he would joust any knight who attempted to cross the bridge. 8 companions joined him in blocking the way and after a month they had broken 300 lances against all comers. Satisfied with their efforts, they merrily set out on the pilgrimage to Santiago.

We did as well, passing on the way through an outstanding and very characteristic village named Castrillo de los Polvozares, made entirely out of stone (even the streets), typical of the Margatería region of León. We also stopped in a vineyard along the path to sample grapes ready for the picking, meeting a fellow cyclist and his son who would accompany us on and off the rest of the way.

A delightful pause to sample grapes along the path. The highlight of this day was the ascent to the Cruz de Ferro monument atop Mount Irago, including a sustained climb of 28 km. On the way up we dined like kings at a rustic restaurant in a nearly-deserted village named Foncebadon, for just 9 euros each. The Cruz de Ferro is the highest point of the Camino Francés. The monument consists of an iron cross atop a tall wooden post set in a huge pile of rocks. Pilgrims traditionally leave something here, whether a rock or some personal article. There were bike helmets, hiking shoes, religious pictures, rosaries, toys, wine bottles and shirts among other things. Toni and I each wrote a dedication on a small piece of paper and attached it to the post.

Extreme descending after the Cruz de Ferro.

Streaks and mounds of tire rubber. The 15 km descent down the other side was part of the day’s highlight. A hair-raising 26% descent not unlike the first drop of a roller coaster turned into a long series of winding 180 degree turns and blind curves. Although the pedestrian path takes a different route down the mountain, there was no taking my eyes off the road to see where the path went. I flew past rustic pilgrim shelters barely noticing them. Streaks and even mounds of tire rubber were all over the road from cars that had taken the curves far too fast. The road was barely wide enough for two medium-sized cars to pass each other. My wheels and brakes were hot and the descent removed a significant portion of my brake pads.

Afterwards an easy few additional kilometers brought us to yet another nice albergue in Ponferrada which only asked for a charitable donation and which greeted us with refreshingly cold tea. We dined well in a Mexican restaurant in the town square, capping off a very respectable 80 kilometer day.

Entering the Celtic zone. Our fourth day was dominated by a brutal 25 km climb to O Cebreiro after an easy initial 25 km from Ponferrada. It was a fantastically scenic but harsh introduction to the green mountains and changeable weather of Galicia, which would accompany us the rest of the way to Santiago. Near the top we enjoyed our first batch of caldo gallego, the traditional, simple but very hearty Galician soup. We stayed in the foggy reaches of O Cebreiro that night, a restored village more Irish than Spanish for its stone houses and streets, reminding all that this land was part of the Celtic empire that predated the Romans. The pilgrim albergue required that we wait until 8 to see if there was room for us since pilgrims on foot had priority, but we were too tired to wait and splurged on a room above an inn for the princely sum of 18 euros each. By now we had made the acquaintance of two other cyclists, bringing our group to 6, and enjoyed a pleasant dinner in a crowded bar where a surprising variety of languages could be heard.

Celtic mountaintop village of O Cebreiro.

After an exhilarating but not as frightening 20 km descent to Triacastela the next day, it became more difficult to follow the path consistently because of the rolling hills. Climbs and descents were often rocky, steep and sharply curved, besides presenting obstacles such as narrow stone bridges.

"Scenery like the Shire of the Lord of the Rings". From the fifth day on we alternated between the path and the road when the path became too difficult. At times we did so with regret, because these paths are among the most beautiful on the Camino. The scenery has been likened to the Shire of the Lord of the Rings.

Although we struggled mightily, we nonetheless were glad to traverse the ancient oak-lined paths between Sarria and Ferreiro. These massive, gnarled trees made it easy to imagine why forests have invoked such fear at night. Another source of fear in our case was the spectacle of a cow suddenly plunging through an opening in a hedge and galloping down the path in our direction. Out of fear we stayed frozen and the cow thundered harmlessly past us, the cowherd and his tiny dog in hot pursuit.

Pilgrims on bike and on foot slog it out up a steep path through oak groves in Galicia.

On this fifth day we did a respectable 70 km day to Portomarín, where we stayed at the largest hostel we had yet encountered. As we neared Santiago, larger hostels were becoming common because more people began the route as the minimum 120 km walking limit approached to qualify for the Compostela. We enjoyed a cultural festival that evening in Portomarín, which had reinvented itself after the original town was flooded by a reservoir. Numerous original buildings were moved stone by stone to higher ground and new “historic” districts were created. Our group had now grown to 8.

More gorgeous Galician scenery followed on the sixth day, where 55 hot, rolling and sometimes difficult kilometers brought us to Arzúa, but not before we enjoyed a sumptuous meal of octopus and local ribeiro wine at a pulperia in Mélide. The tiny hostel was overwhelmed with pilgrims and so we stayed in another comfortable pensión around the corner at yet another bargain price.

A relatively short seventh day (45 km) brought us to Monte del Gozo (Mount Joy), where pilgrims got their first glimpse of Santiago. We checked into an 800-room hostel, showered and took the bus the remaining 5 km to Santiago to introduce ourselves to the city and its magnificent cathedral and to pick up our Compostelas. We would make our triumphal entry on bikes the next day, because from there we planned to all go our separate ways.

Orujo, a powerful liqueur. We thoroughly enjoyed our last night together, celebrating with a seafood dinner as only Galicians can serve it, as well as local wine and orujo, the powerful liqueur typical of the region. The next day, we rode down to the cathedral together, took some photos, and arranged to meet again at 12 for the mass where the botafumeiro would be used. Toni and I rode down to the train station to pick up our rented car and drive back to a garage in the vicinity of the cathedral.

As I walked dejectedly back down the ramp to the car minus my camera, I continued to relive the last seven days in my mind, hoping I could burn the memories into my brain enough to convey them adequately to my family and friends. By now my cycling clothes had begun to annoy me and I decided to change in the car and then go to the cathedral, where assuredly I had by now missed seeing the botafumeiro.

I checked around the car one more time hoping to find the camera, and then got in to change. While going through my contortions, I saw a dark cavity in the center console of the car that I had not noticed before. Remembering again that God has a Plan, I reached in, further than it seemed possible to reach, and touched the camera. Waves of relief, euphoria and gratitude swept over me.

I quickly finished changing, ran to the cathedral with the camera clutched in my hands, and could not get in the main entrance because the doors were closed due to the mass underway. Running around to the side entrance, I worked my way through the crowds as I heard a voice, clear and vibrant, singing the service.

Suddenly the majestic church organ thundered into life, and the botafumeiro began to be hoisted aloft. As I took pictures and watched in awe, the huge golden urn swung through the air hundreds of feet in each direction to the left and right of the altar, reaching nearly to the lofty ceiling at each end.

I felt as if my trip was complete, and as if my father had been with me all along, making sure in death as he had in life that all would be well with me. After all, I had made the trip to try to express gratitude for all he had done for me. I felt as if he had acknowledged my effort.

Whether on foot or on bike, the Pilgrim’s Path holds unexpected delights for the mind and the soul at every turn.

Joe Garcia is a citizen of both the United States and Spain, and presently lives in Elizabeth, New Jersey.

Recommendations for further reading:

El Camino de Santiago en Bici, 6th edition. May, 2003. Sua Edizioak, Bilbao, Spain. ISBN 84-8216-088-5 (bicycle-specific information including route profiles)

Los Caminos de Santiago, edited by Vincent de Papomaréde. 1999.

Acento Editorial, Madrid, Spain. ISBN 84-483-0462-4 (general information regarding the Camino)

Pilgrim Guides to Spain, edited by William Bisset. January 2004. Confraternity of St. James, London, England. ISBN 1-870585-74-7 www.csj.org.uk

The Cycling Pilgrim on the Camino Francés, edited by David H. Wesson.

February 2002. Available from the Confraternity of St. James.

The French Way by Bicycle. Consellería de Cultura, Comunicación

Social E Turismo, Xunta de Galicia www.xacobeo.es(pamphlet showing bicycle routes and profiles, available in numerous languages including English).

Entire contents © Joseph R. Garcia 2005

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