Finally saw a sunset

I have walked the 3.5 km from Finisterre up to the lighthouse at least three, and maybe four, times -- just to see the sunset. But I have never actually seen a sunset because the cloud cover has been so heavy. But tonight was perfect. Clear skies, warm-ish temps. I walked up with some camino friends and at about 10:15 the sun dropped below the horizon.  This year's camino is officially over. Home in a few days. 

In Finisterre -- no more walking

The last day of walking always brings a mix of emotions. I think my body is programmed to know that it's going to be stopping soon, so those last few hills were just a little slower and more sluggish than usual. But I never really want to stop walking, even though I do want to see the family and have things I'm looking forward to doing back home. But no more walking.....

Today I saw a sign for a bar on the beach, about a km off the Camino. Now you might think it's silly to walk that far for a cup of coffee, but it's not every day I get to see this with my morning coffee:

And then reconnecting with the Camino took me along some other coastal paths:

Well worth the little bit of extra walking. 

Arrived in Finisterre about two pm

I am in the albergue with the group from several days ago and we have plans to walk up to the lighthouse tonight for sunset. Fingers crossed, it's very clear and sunny, so I may finally see my first Finisterre sunset! 

Food appears

Last night as people's stomachs were growling, I went down to town with some others, with the hope that something would have magically opened up. A few villagers were out and about, and they again told us that everyone was at the fiesta. But then two women started talking and one thing led to another, and before we knew it we had a beautiful tortilla española, a dozen eggs from the chicken coop, a huge round loaf of excellent gallego bread, a bag of potatoes from the garden, and two bottles of wine. Only after much cajoling did we convince them to accept some money. As we arrived back at the albergue, a car pulled up with a young woman who had overheard the conversation, bringing some white asparagus, olives, fruit, some cookies for dessert. The result was nine well-fed and very happy pilgrims, blessed once again by the kindness of random strangers.

Left over potatoes became hash browns for breakfast and most everyone was on the road by 7. It was a very short day by recent standards, only 20 km, and by noon we were sitting in a cafe overlooking the ocean.  It was a very pleasant walk, nearly all off road, and for the last 9 km, we got frequent glimpses of the ocean in the brilliant sun. Rain has left us, hooray. 

My phone died on the walk, so I'm sure you'll be sorry to know I can't post any pictures of the beautiful Romanesque doorway in the Moraime church. But just to make up for it, on my way out to the church on the rocky point where Mary is reported to have appeared, a Romanesque church I've never been able to get into was magically open. Which means I can post a Romanesque picture or two after all! 

But the highlight of any trip to Muxia has to be a visit to the sanctuary of Mary. Mary is reputed to have landed here in a boat and the large rock you see sticking up is said to have been the boat's sail, which then petrified. Anyone who crawls all the way through the openings will be cured of many ailments. Whatever the truth if all if this, there is no dispute that it's an incredible place. Even a hyper-active person like me can sit and just enjoy the beauty for a long long time. It was a beautiful afternoon. 

Unfortunately, the church was struck by lightening on Christmas Day last year and many priceless statues and artifacts burned. But reconstruction is underway. 

Tomorrow is my last day of walking. Can't believe it. I hope that tomorrow, my fourth visit to the lighthouse at Finisterre, it will be clear so I can see the sunset. So far it's always been cloudy. If the weather holds, this could be my lucky year! 

Pilgrim as lemming

Today's stage has an important point:  at km 27, you must decide whether to go right and then walk 5 more km to Dumbria (and the next day to Muxia), or whether to go left and walk 11 more to Cee (and then the next day to Fisterre). Since I'm going to both places eventually, it didn't really matter which one I went to first, and I just decided to take the option that felt best when I got there. (Very unlike me to be so spontaneous!)

The day started out with a quick breakfast in the albergue

And then came many nice kms of Galician countryside. Even the eucalyptus and windmills look pretty in the mist:

(Point of information -- these groups of windmills are called parques eólicos, named after the Greek god of the wind, Aeolus. Pretty erudite, don't you think?)

After a couple of hours walking, the group of us that had set out at about the same time were spread out over a longish distance along a long, straight country road. The guy in the lead, French, turned and started muttering to me but I had no clue what he was saying. A few more minutes, and I realized I hadn't seen any arrows for a while, but I took comfort from the fact that there was someone in front of me and four behind me. At the next intersection, again no arrows, it became pretty clear we had missed something. So we stopped and waited for the rest to arrive. Consensus was clear-- we missed an arrow. The French guy just wanted to take a random left turn, the Spanish guy thought we should keep going till the next town and then figure it out, and the Spanish couple just stood their bemoaning their fate. The young Korean woman and I agreed the thing to do was to flag down a car and ask for help.  Quite a few cars ignored our waves --would you stop for a bunch of shaggy wet pilgrims with flowing ponchos and walking sticks (did I mention it was raining?). 

Finally a kind man stopped and told us we could get to our destination by staying on the highway, giving the Spanish guy a momentary triumph.  But when pressed, he admitted he had no idea if it was the camino, but it was 12 more km on the side of the highway. The second car we managed to stop was a local who knew exactly where the camino was and informed us we had missed a turn-off about 1 1/2 or 2 k back. Grrrr. What's hard to understand is how so many people missed the big granite mojón taking us off the road. I guess when you see one or several people walking ahead of you, and you know they're going to the same place you are, you just forget to pay attention. Hence the lemming reference. 

It was interesting to see everyone's reactions to the news that we should backtrack a few kms.  For the Spanish couple, it was cause for more bemoaning, for the French guy, it was time to bolt away and make up lost time. For the Spanish guy, it was an example of how the camino is a reflection of real life, and he began to draw out in great detail the comparison between missing an arrow on the camino and missing something obvious in "real life." For me and my Korean friend, though, it was something much less profound -- just what we needed to make our decision between Muxia and Fisterre. With these extra kms added to our day's walk, we knew we'd be turning right at the split. 

And so we walked together through more Galician countryside 

 

And made our way to the huge modern albergue in the town of Dumbria. The founder of the Zara stores is from this town and gave the money to build the albergue. Sheer albergue luxury. 

Only problem is that the 5 cafe/bars and two food shops are all closed. Not because it's Sunday, but because there is a big fiesta two towns away. A couple of us had the bright idea to call the one local taxi to take us to the fiesta so we could get something to eat, but we learned that he is also at the fiesta and is not interested in our business. Looks like a dinner of yoghurt, peanuts and raisins, and a sliver of chocolate. 

Tomorrow Muxia, one of the places most devastated by the Prestige oil spill a few years back. But also the place where Martin Sheen ended his camino in The Way. 

Leaving in the rain

So I am walking again. I arrived in Santiago on Thursday morning before 9 and went straight to the pilgrims office to see all my friends and to get my first colorful compostela (new version printed this year, and it's quite beautiful, resembling an illustrated medieval manuscript).

I spent Thursday and Friday mainly doing one of two things -- writing compostelas or buying olive oil to stuff into my duffel. Both activities are quite fun. 

Since it's summer there are many more college age pilgrims, which adds a lot of spirit and fun lovingness to the camino. But there were plenty still walking in memory of someone or to fulfill a promise to the apostle. Though I didn't meet her, I heard of a young mom walking to fulfill a promise she made when her newborn was critically ill. Now the baby is 5 or 6 months old and the picture of health, so the mom walked while the dad and baby drove, making sure to meet up with mom for regular feedings. An 80 year old man walked in memory of his recently deceased wife and, as you might imagine, he was overcome with emotion in the pilgrims office. I wrote a compostela for a young woman who was born in my home town, and finally met a Camino Internet friend in person! Things like these made those days a lot of fun. 

So I woke up at about 6:15 to the sound of thunder and a hard hard rain. Back to bed. Up at 7:15 and nothing had changed, but I dressed and packed and stored my duffel with its 8 liters of oil and two kilos of beans at the front desk. After breakfast, I have to admit it, since it was still raining hard, I asked if they had rooms available for tonight. Negative. So, with the option of bailing out of the walk gone, I just put on my pack and poncho and headed out. 

33 km later, having put in and taken off my poncho at least a dozen times, I arrived with dry feet at Vilaserio. Nice private albergue and a few pilgrims for company. Not sure whether I'll go to Muxia or Finisterre first, but I will have 23 km of walking before I have to make the decision! 

Leaving Santiago

Even in the rain Pontemaceira is one of the loveliest little villages on any camino

Statue focusing on the human toll of emigration, always makes me sad (and particularly now with the huge waves leaving Spain for work) 

Pretty little church of Negreira

After fourteen years of caminos, I have found the best boots and sock combination ever!  Oh happy day! 

In the Casa de Amancio

I have walked by this very nice place on several occasions, and have had a few cafés or Kas de Limón on their terrace. But since I'm finishing out my "albergue-free camino" (not exactly true but pretty close) I decided to spend my last night about ten km from the cathedral in the Casa de Amancio.

Here's the view out my window 

So I am quite content. I'll have a good homemade dinner (I've been told the food is a notch above the regular camino gruel) and be up bright and early for the last ten or twelve km into the pilgrims office and cathedral. 

Lots of good thinking time today. Even with the large numbers there's plenty of alone time and plenty of quiet time. 

Tomorrow Santiago!  

Short day

My choice was  25 or 36 and I went for the shorter day. Only two more days to Santiago -- tomorrow will be 30+ but then on Thursday I'll have only about 15.

All sorts of people walking. It's funny -- when I watch them streaming by it seems like they are all part of the same big blob. But then when I talk with them, everyone has his or her own story, and some of them are quite amazing. 

And there are lots of Romanesque churches hidden away in little villages. So nice! 

My one regret on todays walk is that I arrived in Melide too early to eat pulpo. At 9 am, it just didn't appeal. I'll have to find an acceptable substitute for Ezequiel's place over the next few days. 

But my disappointment was offset by the surprise that the Romanesque church right outside Melide was OPEN!  It has a few nice capitals and some 14th century frescoes, but I thought the highlight was the 12th century iron work

The walk was not too challenging but very pretty. I had forgotten how pretty these last few days on the Francés are. Lucky me. 

A 9 km castle detour

So when I left today from Portomarin I knew I didn't want to stay in the next town with 20 albergues, which would have been Palas de Rei, a mere 24 km away. So with some Internet hunting, I found an albergue about 6 km further down the Camino, not counting the 1.8 km detour off camino to get there (actually the owners offered to come pick me up but that didn't appeal).

The walk was busier than yesterday, if you look closely you can see a line of young male Italian pilgrims walking the camino together and singing loudly and very joyfully. 

Today's walk went through lots of little hamlets, and nearly every one of them had a bar. Another day of pleasant walking. 

By 2:30 I was washing clothes in this little out of the way place (so far I'm the only one here). I had seen a castle turret and asked about it and was told it was 2 km away. So around 4 I set off, but unfortunately I took the long way, which I'll guess was another 8-9 more km round trip. The castle (Pambre is its name) is a square small sturdy looking thing on a river. I was a little disappointed to find the whole thing under renovation. I could see a lot of it but the cranes and construction debris kind of detracted from the aesthetics. 

Ah well, it was a nice walk and took me through a few little villages untouched by the Camino. The differences are astonishing, all these little places just a few kms from the passing of thousands of people and they don't get any of the $$$/€€€ that come pouring out of pilgrims' pockets every day. They are essentially dead places with a few old people left behind. Not sure how they will survive. 

In the town of Portomarin

Since I had walked an extra bit yesterday, this morning I was pretty close to what would otherwise be a logical stopping point --Sarria, about 112 km from Santiago. Since you must walk 100 km to get the compostela (the certificate that says you've "done it") Sarria is a hugely popular starting point. As I walked through the town around 9:30 this morning (having last done it in 2005, I think), I counted 19 albergues, but later saw a list that says there are 24. It has been a town that lives off pilgrims. The beautiful old quarter is nothing but pilgrim business. 

I decided to continue 24 km more on to Portomarin, which means I'm now well under 100 km from Santiago. By pushing things a bit the last few days, I'll get to Santiago a day earlier than I had thought. So I'll have a rest day in Santiago before the four day walk to Finisterre and Muxia. The life of Riley. 

The walk today was very pretty and rural. 

In spite of the huge numbers of walkers, there's plenty of alone walking time. Lots of green tunnels, lots of nice views over hills and valleys, lots of rolling ups and downs with no extremes --gentle walking. 

The town of Portomarin is another one of those fake towns. The dam in the 50s flooded the original ancient town and they built a new one. The Romanesque church, however, was dismantled and moved up to the new main square.  In general I would say that the rebuilding hasn't been terribly successful. The place lacks its soul. But the church was definitely worth saving. 

Weather couldn't be better, but some have said a heat wave is in the way!  

Monastery town of Samos

Today I had only planned to walk 21 kms or so, but when I got to Triacastela around 11:30, it seemed silly to wait there for the albergue to open an hour and a half later, especially when the next town was only 9 more kms away.  So off I went and here I am.

Today's walk was pretty beautiful. All fogged in as the sun rose

and then gradually the landscape opened up. Lots of up and down followed by another up and down and another through green tunnels and over rivers. Even though there are lots of people walking, it doesn't feel crowded on the walk itself, just when we all agglomerate at the end point. 

Since I'm walking alone I fall in and out of groups easily and share little bits and pieces till someone stops or speeds up or slows down. It's fun to hear people's stories -- coincidence of the day was that I met a young teacher who was born in my home town while her dad was getting a Ph.D. 

I'm in a pensión again and wonder if I'm losing the hang of the albergue thing. Maybe tomorrow. Though I'm not in the albergue of the monastery I have a nice view of it from my window

Back in O'Cebreiro

My long mountain stages before joining the Camino Francés have trained me well. I left Villafranca at 7 am and by 1:15 or so I was in O'Cebreiro, 28 k away and hundreds of meters higher than where I set out. I could have actually gone on for another couple of hours but I had a comfy room and a glorious sunny and cool afternoon waiting for me at the top, so I happily plunked myself down and had to keep pinching myself.

The view on the way up: 

The view on the other side, from the top: 

It doesn't get much prettier than this. 

The now deceased priest of this little town is the one who's credited with the modern revival of the Camino. He asked the government for some help in marking the way, and they gave him gallons and gallons of surplus yellow highway paint. And that explains why we still follow yellow arrows. 

Day one on the Camino Francés

Well at the last minute I almost veered off onto the Camino de Invierno but decided to stick with the Francés.  It's been almost ten years since I've been on this part of the Camino and the changes are obvious and sort of what I expected to find knowing how exponentially pilgrim traffic has grown. Bars, hotels, pilgrim ads everywhere. During almost the entire 24 kms between Ponferrada and Villafranca del Bierzo I had at least three pilgrims in sight ahead of me and the same behind me. And coming out of towns there always seems to be a bunch-up till everyone falls into their stride and we string out along the path.  Always a cast of characters -- most are either young (20s) or my age (old) --and the US invasion is a reality.

Though I enjoy and am used to walking alone, it's been fun to have little snippets of conversation with others. Over today's pretty short walk, I walked for a few k with Mañuel, a man from Ponferrada who walks out 14 km to his finca every Thursday and then back, and who made sure I knew his opinion of the Spanish government and all those cabrones in the EU. Then there was a weary catalana walking in memory of her brother, two German girls who had a lot of complaints about Spanish food but a lot of praise for Spanish wine (I met them as they were coming out of one of the many tasting rooms along today's route--Bierzo wine is rich and fruity).  Then a Spanish couple fretting because someone had taken the guy's walking sticks from outside a bar (theft is really up along the camino -- I heard there were several thefts from the big albergue in O'Cebreito a few days ago--one guy apparently had 1000 (yes, that's three zeros) euros stolen --WHO walks with that kind of cash). 

Anyway, these are the kinds of random conversations that while away the time while walking. And the scenery was very pretty--vineyards and rolling hills with some more serious mountains behind.  

And I am happy to report that since I've arrived here and have passed the "puerto del perdón" in the Santiago church, if anything happens to me and I don't make it to Santiago, I will have received the forgiveness and indulgence that awaits most pilgrims in Santiago. 

I arrived in Villafranca only to see that my "wing it" plan had been thwarted. The private albergue was all reserved up,  the municipal is big and crowded, and the Ave Fenix is a "legend" but one where the  ambiance doesn't depend a lot on cleanliness (Dana and I slept there once, probably in 2000 and I remember we didn't give it a Good Housekeeping award). Then the first three pensiones I called were also full but I finally got a room in a hotel where I slept years ago, but I know that only because my name, address, etc were already in their system!  

So much for the free spirit approach, I called and reserved a room in O'Cebreiro for tomorrow.  This will be a memory-laden stop as well. The last time I slept in the Venta Celta I had huge infected blisters on my very first camino and was under Dana's loving care. We had a meal I remember well, crowned by the dessert of the local cheese with honey.  Maybe you can't go home again, but you can repeat a serving of queixo O'Cebreiro!  

And it would be hard to get lost now ! 

A three day detour of splendor in the mountains

This was one of these total strokes of luck (or as Reb would probably say, of divine providence). The stars aligned so Reb and I could walk together. I arrived alone into Ponferrada, Reb drove in from Moratinos, and on Sunday night we met up in the new and very nice albergue, Alea.

On Monday early in the morning we started a three day circle that would take us up into the Valle del Silencio and then back into Ponferrada. I honestly don't think I've ever had any three consecutive days walking on any Camino with more mountain beauty packed in day after day after day. 

Our first day took us up to El Acebo, but on an amazing trail called the Puentes de Malpaso, a pretty strenuous mountain hike that took us across two valleys and over some beautiful old medieval bridges.   This was our view from our B&B looking down into the valley into which we would descend (and ascend again into the next valley) the next day.

The second day took us down to a Roman forge which was still operational and involved some ingenious uses of water, then up to the ridge and back down again over to the next valley 

where we finally arrived at Peñalba de Santiago, where we had reservations at a terrific little place, La Masera. Aside from just the jaw-dropping beauty of the town itself 

we also had a visit to the 10th century Mozarabic church 

And a 4 km hike through Holms oaks and along the river to the cave where early Christian hermits are reported to have spent time, San Genadio being the most notable. 

After an overpriced but atmosphere-laden dinner on the terrace of a cantina of cheese plate, salad, "scalded" chorizo with yummy potatoes and some Bierzo wine overlooking the mountains all around us (and I say overpriced loosely because where else could you sit for two hours and look out over this beauty for 15€ each?) , we returned to our great little place 

and slept like babies. 

Today's hike involved more ups and downs from one valley to another and many amazing moments of beauty. We walked a laberynth on a mountain top and shouted out to no one in particular that we were here and alive and grateful.  Some of the descents were rough but many were on Roman roads or on Roman channels so the sense of history and agelessness took our attention away from our creaking knees. 

In the small town of Montes de Valdueza, we arrived magically at the appointed hour for a tour of the monastery dating back to our pal San Genadio's days, most of it now in ruins but so impressive nonetheless. 

From there it was five more hours following the river and walking through isolated mountain villages till Ponferrada was once again in our grasp. At the medieval bridge where we had started out, I took my first selfie with my dear friend Rebekah to commemorate that the circle was now complete. 

(See the medieval bridge artfully placed between us?). 

We said our goodbyes back at the same place where we had met up and thus ended one of my most amazing walks ever. 

I'm now back on the "moving sidewalk" of the Camino Francés and will not detour off to the Camino del Invierno, which is lovely but totally lonely. I will wing this entirely -- no guidebook and no reservations. Just a chance to see a part of the camino I haven't seen for at least nine years. A lot has changed I'm sure. 

My detour to Peñalba de Santiago

For years I have wanted to walk to the tiny town of Peñalba de Santiago. It's lost in the mountains about 25 km from a town on the Camino Frances. Well this year it looks like I will get my wish! Yesterday my pal Rebekah drove up from her small town of Moratinos and we had a rendezvous in Ponferrada. This morning we set out in a walk to Las Puentes de Malpaso, which turned out to be a gorgeous walk up and over a few crests, over two Roman/medieval bridges and along waterfalls splashing into pools and then into the town of El Acebo, which is located on the Camino. From here tomorrow we'll have a walk through the mountains I see out the window of my B&B,

and then on Wednesday, we'll complete the circle back to Ponferrada. Looking forward to a great dinner tonight here in La Trucha, our very comfy, friendly and cozy place. 

My last day on the Camino Olvidado

As I walked into Ponferrada today, where I was going to join the flow of humanity that walks the Camino Francés, I was thinking a lot about the yellow arrow.  The caminos are full of yellow arrows, we often take them for granted. But when you're walking alone on a camino that's pretty remote, the arrows have a much greater importance. In some cases, they keep you from getting lost. That's been true for me a number of times on this Camino.

And when one is missing in a crucial place, as it was for me at one point this morning, things get a little un-fun. There I was walking in the rain, no pink tracks on the gps, at a place where four unpaved roads converged.  My written instructions were unclear, so I walked back a few minutes to a farmhouse hoping to see a human being and there he was!  Crisis averted and a few more minutes along the trail and the arrows appeared again. 

But more than that, the arrows have a great psychic benefit, especially when you're not walking with others. They are a sign of camaraderie, a message that you're not alone. The amazing power of a little bit of yellow paint!

So here I am in Ponferrada on my first rainy day. My boots have been great! In fact I'd say the best ever. And sun is back in the forecast. Best of all, Rebekah is coming to walk with me for a few days. 

From Quintana to Congosto

Once again I'm leaving one unknown little place and heading for another. It has been a continual source of gratitude that the people in these places have gone out of their way to help me find a bed for the night and food to eat as well.  The mayor of Quintana told me there is interest in promoting the camino but an overarching structure of some kind is needed. Especially in places like this, so close to the Camino Frances, the people know what having lots of dirty sweaty pilgrims traipsing  your town can mean in terms of revenue.

There are about 30 km to Congosto and I was warned that the marking might be less than perfect. 

But from Quintana to Labañiego was a perfectly marked route through the monte, many more kms than a straight line I'm sure. But good marking and nice off-road surface counts for a lot.  No barbed wire fences, no cattle planted in the middle of my path -- today's challenge was a swarm of flies that kept spinning around my head. Nothing too daunting, just an annoyance. 

Then another four or five through Arlanza, where several women wanted to chat and requested that I hug the apostle for them.  They told me all about their gardens and their grandchildren, two tremendous sources of joy for them. 

The terrain has changed a lot. Hotter climate, more agriculture. Cherries galore. 

In fact today I saw my first vineyard. I have been walking more than two weeks in Spain and today was my first vineyard?!

I have another 12 k or so to my destination, Congosto.  Another town where the owner of a casa rural has taken pity on me and will figure out a way to have someone open the house even though she's out of town. 

A p.s:  I made it fine to Congosto and am in a lovely casa rural, whose owner just gave me the keys to the house and told me to leave what I wanted on the table. I have been bowled over by the kindness and generosity of the people along this Camino. I think things will change tomorrow as I join the Camino Francés and the hoards.