Apologies that it has been so long since a blog update – this is because I have been undertaking the Camino de Santiago, a pilgrimage to the cathedral of St. James in North-West Spain.
This post will be divided into sections which I wrote along the way.
Days 1-10
Firstly, a little background on the Camino (simply meaning 'journey' or 'way' in Spanish, but usually referring to this particular journey). You can start the Camino from anywhere. In Medieval times, Catholics would travel from their homes, either on horseback, donkey or foot. Some pilgrims came from as far away as Eastern Europe.
As such, the modern pilgrimage can start from anywhere as well – the only rule, if you want an indulgence (or certificate of completion, if you're not religious) at the end is that you must have walked at least the last 100km, or cycled the last 200km.
However, there are some routes that are more popular than others, and I am doing one of the more common ones, the Camino Frances. Because it comes from France. (although there are actually several routes that come from France).
I decided to start in St. Jean-Pied-de-Port, a small town in France close to the Spanish border. This was chosen pretty much at random, because I knew very little about the Way before starting.
I got off the train in St. Jean with no clue what I was doing, and was lucky enough to meet some other pilgrims who knew the way to an albergue (pilgrim's hostel). So I followed them, and was given a credencial (pilgrim's passport), elevation map of the entire camino, and a list of towns that contained albergues. I was also given a bed.
I was fortunate to meet a lovely Kazakhstani girl who had been living in Germany and spoke just about every language known to man. She was doing the Camino for the second time, and gave me many tips, such as how much water and food to bring.
The following day I woke up at 5:30am, not even slightly aware of what I was doing or why I was doing it. I ate a breakfast of... bread. And milk. Before setting off with my German-ish friend. I knew this particular day's walk was considered one of the hardest of the whole French Way, as it crosses the Pyrenes (sp?) mountain range, as well as the border between France and Spain. In addition to this, there was nowhere to sleep for 28km.
The walk was straight uphill for about 6 hours, and then straight downhill for about 3 hours before I arrived at the lovely town of Roncenveaux. I went into the church and fell into a seat in exhaustion until the albergue opened, at which point I fell into a bed and slept in exhaustion. I did manage to wake up in time for the pilgrim's mass that evening, however.
The building I slept in was an 11th century church, which I shared with 143 other tired pilgrims.
The town of Roncenveaux only had about 10 buildings... 3 of which were huge churches. This was to be a recurring theme.
The first three days of walking were immensely difficult for me, not only because they were difficult walks anyway (very mountainous), but also because I was not yet used to walking (or waking up so early).
However, I persevered, and by day 4 my legs were feeling significantly better and my spirits were much higher. However, this is also when the heat began to set in...
When in the mountains, it was cold, so I could walk at any time of day. Now, grilling in the hills (Spain is all hill. There is never any flat. Constantly up and down.) one has to wake up early to cover any distance, as it is simply impossible to walk past 1pm. So my progress slowed significantly as I adjusted to this, and I had a few days of walking just 10km or so.
One of the interesting thing about these first 5 or 6 days was how fast the scenery changed. At the beginning, in France, everywhere there were cows and sheep and goats. This quickly changed to grain and olives, and eventually to wine country, which I am still walking through now.
There is a lot of wildlife along the Way, I saw a fresh-water lobster climbing up a stream, a bunch of rabbits, many dragonflies and butterflies flying around and in front of you as you disturb their rest, and many other creatures (those highland cattle are hilarious. Almost as funny as Dexter cows).
As to the Way itself...
This varies a lot. The route I am following is almost exactly where the old pilgrim route ran, so whatever has developed in that area is what you walk on. Sometimes this means walking alongside a highway, other times it means following a series of footprints in the mud. Usually it is a dusty trail or a rocky road.
The small towns and villages I sleep in are inevitably beautiful, and it is very nice to have the opportunity of sleeping in the churches some nights (although not every night, as they are quite cold and uncomfortable...)
The Camino enjoys the exact opposite of the tourist trap. Albergues are usually sponsored by the Catholic Church or the regional government, so they are very cheap (or sometimes donation-based), and most restaurants and cafes offer special “pilgrim meals” - 3-course meals including bread and wine for 8-10 euro (a meal like that would usually cost you 30-40 in most of these places... they are VERY good). I feel it is important to have something like this every now and again (4 or 5 days) to ensure a balanced diet and that I am eating enough, as otherwise I would live on chorizo and muesli bars.
So, I am not spending any money on transport, my food and accommodation is costing a fraction of what it did elsewhere, and I am seeing some of the most beautiful things Spain has to offer – places most tourists would not even think of visiting. I like being a pilgrim.
A note about other pilgrims:
The types of people who do the Camino are hugely varied. The vast majority are European – according to a pie chart I saw, 30% Spanish, 15% French, 15% Italian, 10% German, 30% “other” (that's me).
I've met a few people from the USA, a few people from Korea, but otherwise nobody who is not European. This is a nice change from the swarms of Canadians and Australians in Greece and Italy.
Some people do this journey simply because they enjoy walking and the countryside. The vast majority, however, are doing it because they are looking for something.
I met one man who hated his job as a teacher, and wanted to change the direction of his life. He was walking so he could think and find inspiration as to what he should do with his life.
I met one IMMENSELY overweight German man (too much sausage!) who was doing the walk to prove to himself and to God that he could lose weight.
I met some Basque sisters (just 15 and 18) who were doing the walk as a way to remember and honour their father who had died recently. They had done a part of the walk with him a few years before, and they carried his incomplete credencial with them, having it stamped along with theirs everywhere they went.
These are just three examples of the huge host of reasons for which people undertake the immensely physical and spiritual experience that is the Camino.
Why am I doing it? That's a difficult one – maybe in my next update.
This section was written on night 10 of walking, in a town called Azofras.
PS. By pure coincidence, I was in Pamplona during the festival (the running of the bulls, the bull fights, etc).
I did not go to the fights (for ethical reasons), but the festivities were amazing, and I saw a huge parade slowly meandering through the absolutely packed streets.
Days 11-16
Well quite a bit has happened in the last few days.
Firstly, I discovered the joy of the 'donativo'. These hostels are run purely on a donation basis, and provide any pilgrim with a place to sleep, food to eat and wine to drink.
The first one I stayed in was in a place called Granon, and it was actually built into the rafters and bell tower of the town church. We cooked dinner together (delicious salad and pasta), ate together, and the immensely polite but surprisingly forceful hospitalero made us sing together as well.
I beat some English people at chess.
I stayed at another donativo the next night, which provided a similar experience.
Unfortunately, there are not enough donativos for one to stay at them every night, so I am still staying in municipal albergues on most occasions.
Yesterday I arrived in Burgos, and had a somewhat awful experience there. I had a reasonably short walk of 22km to get there, so I left late (9am) thinking I would have plenty of time. Unfortunately, it turns out there are two routes into Burgos and I actually took the 27km one. Not only that, but the last 5km of this route was perfectly straight, along the highway and light commercial zone that is the outskirts of any major city. Not only that, but I got totally lost in the center of Burgos, and lost the Way. I was kindly directed by somebody to the Way, and was then directed by somebody else in the direction of an albergue. Unfortunately, it turns out they got the direction wrong, and I wandered the streets of Burgos for several more unnecessary hours.
Disheartened, I turned back, only to find the albergue roughly 50m from where I had asked for directions. I was lucky to get a bed, but missed the pilgrim's mass in the beautiful cathedral there.
My '22km' walk ended up taking about 10 hours.
On the upside, I am almost half way to Santiago now (just 460km to go). I am considering going on to Finistera (another 100 or so past Santiago).
Although my dedication to this walk wanes at times, on general I am enjoying it. The total contrast between various elements is interesting; for example, during the day you might feel totally and utterly alone, and not see a single person. But then that night you stay in a donativo and enjoy the epitome of community. Equally, often you lose people because one of you goes slightly faster or slower, but then when you find them again a week later you are filled with joy.
Some days I do not feel like walking at all, and it is a struggle to get out of bed and put on my shoes, and I generally stop in every single pub I pass for a tortilla and a San Miguel. Other days however, the walk just floats by and I have no desire to stop where I was planning and go much further. It does not seem to be related to injury, rest or hunger, it is simply at random how I am feeling, but I hope for more 'walking' days in the future, as it can be truly torturous otherwise.
Tonight I am going to have a pilgrim's meal in celebration of surviving Burgos. I am not looking forward to Leon.
This section was written in a small town which apparently has no name, on the 19th of July.
Days 17 to 23
Leon!
It is good to be back in civilization, if only for a day.
Today I went to a “hypermarket” (it was so huge that the curvature of the Earth prevented one from seeing from one end to the other). It was very exciting. Notable items include: scooters, and a rent-a-car place (both necessary purchases for the average shopper – an experienced pilgrim such as myself, however, braves the walk from one end of the store to the other). I bought Oreos, muesli bars, tinned tuna and 475g of mixed lollies. They had a separate box for red gummi bears which made me immensely happy. I also ate at McDonald's.
And, more to the point... free wi-fi! Hence the blog update ahead of schedule.
The other day I stayed in a donativo again, which was brilliant. They made paella and I ate three servings. I was the only person in this entire town that spoke English, but I was not in any way lonely – somehow one can converse for hours on end with people despite not understanding a word the other person says, and it still feels just like a normal conversation. I think I descended into gibberish at some point during the evening simply because it made no difference at all.
But this is all a bit irrelevant, lets discuss the Way.
Many people take the bus between Burgos and Leon, because the land in-between is “just a desert”. Concerned about this supposed desert, I continued to walk anyway... it turns out the European definition of 'desert' is somewhat different to my own!
The rolling sand-dunes of Spain:
The walk was however quite dull. Almost totally flat, through endless farmland. The towns were smaller, poorer and further between. It was nice in one way because of the higher altitude it was reasonably cool in the afternoons, meaning I could walk longer each day and make more rapid progress (I walked 30-35k most days, although I had a few very slack ones to make up for it). The downside is that, because there are no hills, the wind is ridiculously strong. And I mean absolutely crazily strong. Each step felt like 3, and I was constantly being blown to the side. It's a good thing I have my stick to maintain my balance.
An observation I made soon after entering Spain is that everywhere there are new buildings being built. Initially, I assumed this was because Spain has not been hit as hard by the recession as the rest of Europe, but according to some Spanish people I have talked to on the subject this is not the case at all. It turns out such a huge amount of the population is involved in construction that the government feels it must sponsor pointless projects just to prevent the entire industry from collapsing. This was felt most when I walked through a very bizarre “ghost town”. It was a town built wholly around a golf course, all totally new buildings, and quite large... with about 20 people living there, amongst the rows and rows of houses. And they were building more. I didn't take any photos because the buildings were absolutely hideous and the whole place looked like a very upper class retirement village. Extremely depressing.
I have been a little depressed for the past few days since I lost everybody I have made friends with thus far – however, in many ways this is also a good thing as it means I talk to other people (even if I don't understand what they're saying) more. It is a bizarre sensation to talk only with people whom you have no prior knowledge of. A Belgian man I met pointed out to me that it does in fact lead to much more open, honest and deep discussion, as you have no inhibitions when you speak – you simply say what you think and what you feel, and it doesn't matter what the other person thinks because you will probably never see them again in your life.
I don't think that it will be easy to return to the “regular” travelling routine of staying in hostels and meeting people between the ages of 22 and 25 after this. Most likely I will visit only Barcelona and Amsterdam (and possibly Lisbon) before returning to England after my walk is complete.
As of this instant, I have 299km to Santiago.
I promised to explain why exactly I am undertaking this journey and I will (since I am waiting for my photos to upload anyway).
People often ask me why somebody who hates walking and is not very religious would do something like the Camino (does seem somewhat strange, I admit), and the answer is that it is because I hate walking and am not particularly religious that I do it.
The only way to improve is to challenge oneself with things one does not necessarily enjoy – and that is what I am doing. As a very friendly Italian man I met who is doing the camino for the second time (this time with his 12 year old daughter), 'the Camino is the single best thing a person can do for themselves'. And I think he's right.
