Today has been a very good day after the last couple. It hasn’t been warm, and there have been times when rain has threatened, but the journey has been more interesting, the weather has been fine, and the gradients increasing but not vicious. I feel quite calm about tomorrow, happy to be where I am and with the people who are here, and very good about being slightly ahead of schedule. The last good thing is because I decided that having exhausted the delights of Astorga by midday, and with plenty of energy in hand, it would be good to get a headstart on the hard stages ahead. If I can maintain that I will, but if it just makes tomorrow a lighter day, that’s fine too. I am not going to start racing, and I certainly don’t want to change the schedule so much that I arrive in Santiago before Kate. I’ve thought about it as I was riding (yes, today was a day when thought and riding were compatible) and I basically want to arrive with her – in fact, I’d sort of like her to be able to greet me on arrival.
Anyway, there are catch up items again today! One has been the irreverent thought that some of the organs I have seen in Spanish churches and cathedrals would look more at home in a fairground than a church – the style of decoration screams Gavioli. But even that irreverent thought has prompted me to think about the way that so many things I have reacted to strongly in the last few days are about taste – the Albergue Viatoris in Sahagun, the chapels and decor in Burgos cathedral, the organs I have just mentioned – and learning to take some of these things at face value and try to see what was intended by their creators is important, whether I like them or not. That applies to so many aspects of life. It is about respect, and it has enabled me to look at things differently since I had the thought.
Sahagun was eventful, and I don’t know that I fully conveyed that. I missed out on the chance to witness a major event there – it was the town’s feria, complete with running of the bulls, bull-fighting, fairground and so on. At the time I was happily ensconced in the bar of the Albergue Viatoris being plyed with free Rioja by the proprietor along with a couple of other guests (I have no idea how he makes a profit). A local who was drinking with us assured us that there would be no bulls because it was still raining, and I didn’t feel like getting wet again, so I stayed in. Never mind.
Another little item is that the Puerto-Rican lady I mentioned turned up in Leon last night by public transport because her toe nail had fallen off, and I finally learned her name – Annedde – and more of her story. Her husband is generously looking after two of their children, while their oldest, who is 21, is also walking the Camino and about to arrive in Santiago. I was glad to see her again. In fact, yesterday evening was delightful all round. I attended Vespers with the Benedictine sisters (I was able to sing bits of the service, and I was amazed how much of the Spanish liturgy and psalms I could easily understand), and that was followed by mass in English, celebrated by my friend Thom, who I had met in Sahagun. That was a lovely service, and just served to underline how little separates many Roman Catholics and even many Evangelical Anglicans in terms of belief and practice. We went to night prayer and the pilgrim blessing before bed too, so I don’t feel guilty that I am not rushing across to the church for Vespers this evening.
I am afraid that during Vespers last night I had another of my irreverent thoughts. The nuns drifted in one by one, but in some kind of order before the service began, and microphones were set up in all the right places. When the last nun arrived, it was plain that her seat was in the middle of a row, but she cheerfully advanced on the stall (which had a solid front) at a normal walking pace. She wasn’t very tall, but I had an image of her nimbly vaulting over and into her stall. Of course nothing of the kind happened. What I couldn’t see before was that there was actually a little door – she just swung open a section of the front of the stalls, stepped in, and closed it again. What a disappointment! When I looked carefully there was one on the other side too.
Anyway, that’s it for catch up items. As I said, today has been much better. Finding my way out of Leon was a bit of a challenge (another road diversion), but I managed it in the end having added only a couple of km to the journey. I had left just after 7.00am, and was in Astorga, and still full of energy and dry, at 10.02am. Astorga’s was the first cathedral town for some time where the cathedral was visible for miles, acting as a beacon and an encouragement as you approach, and Astorga the city was much more on a town scale – small, ordinary and friendly.
The Bishop’s Palace, designed by Gaudi, had some wonderfully interesting shapes, and though it was completely different in architectural style, and probably the ‘poshest’ building in town, in a funny way it fitted. From there, I made my way to the cathedral – and after my thoughts on taste, I really liked it. It seemed to have a much more local and individual architectural style, and the warm colour of the red sandstone, with its interesting grain running in all sorts of different directions, made it far more interesting than yet another gothic masterpiece. I don’t have a lot of pictures of the interior, however, because of all the churches and cathedrals I have visited, it was the most determined to preserve an atmosphere of prayer, and photography is actually prohibited – I just hadn’t seen the sign, but I was very happy to stop when asked with a smile. I was equally happy that I had managed to get pictures of the light in the cathedral, and the style of the stonework in the pillars. I don’t feel obliged to delete them!
That was the point at which I made the decision to press on into the mountains and get a head start for tomorrow, but not before I had stocked up on provisions. Tomorrow is, of course, Sunday, and food can be scarce out in the country on a Sunday – and not too easy to find on a Monday either. So, I am stocked up with bread and things to combine with it, I have fruit, and I have things to drink – all of which adds weight to what I am carrying, but I have to eat! The Montes de Leon, the mountains I am about to cross at the Camino’s highest point, had been visible for some time as I approached Astorga, and the view became clearer as I left the town and made for the hills. Just 5km outside Astorga I arrived at the village of Castrillos de los Polvazeres, the first of a series of Maragatos villages. These villages (there are about 44 in all) have a very individual style, quite unlike anything else around, and Castrillos is probably the best preserved. The Maragatos were the muleteers of Spain, possibly connected to the Berbers or even Phoenecians, and had a culture all of their own that is reflected in the villages. There are plenty of pictures in the photostream, taken after I had eaten my lunch.
The road began to climb from there (another 800ft before Rabanal), and the landscape began to change. There were wildflowers galore along the side of the road and the Camino path, and the most striking thing was the quantity of wild lavender! It was a beautiful ride, surrounded by the mountains, and arriving in Rabanal del Camino was a good end to a good day. It is another Maragatos village, and a popular stopping point before proceeding over the Montes de Leon. It is also where the Confraternity of St James have an ‘English’ refuge – the Albergue Gaucelmo. It is in the former priest’s house, which they have lovingly restored and adapted, naming it after Gaucelmo – a hermit who had a mandate from King Alfonso VI, dated 1073, to run an albergue for pilgrims in Foncebadon 6km on from here. There is a reproduction of a scrap of the document from the king hanging in the entrance, and the document itself is in the museum in Astorga.
The hosts have been amazing. Policy meant that they had to wait and see whether foot pilgrims would fill the place before admitting me, but they were very good about it, and here I am installed. I have just had a long, deep and interesting conversation with one of them, Richard, partly about Jonathan. He runs a number of funeral homes in Montreal, so he was a good person to talk to. He also has a son who has had a drug and alcohol problem for many years, whose future is uncertain, and that makes him a good person to talk to as well. I’ve also taken a yoga stretching session with Chard (short for Richard, who is the other Richard’s nephew). I’ve been served Earl Grey tea at tea time. I feel spoiled. The other guests are fascinating too. It would be an easy place to stay longer.
One of my curiosities for the day can be found in the photostream. The church next to the albergue has a clock, which looks like an English station clock plastered onto a brick extension to the tower. Most peculiar. I mentioned it, and was told all about it. The clock was added in 1959 (and restored in 1999), and the brick section really was added to support the clock. The clock itself is a repeater (i.e. it chimes each hour’s time twice) and is wound daily by an 81 year old man who spends most of the rest of the day in the bar. Chard had persuaded him to allow him to go up the tower and help wind it, and he has kindly given me some of his photos for the photostream.
At the top of the pass tomorrow is a special place called Cruz de Ferro (cross of iron for those who aren’t quick to work it out). The cross is surrounded by an immense pile of stones which have been left by pilgrims – many carry them from home – to symbolise an unburdening, whether of sins or of something else. I haven’t brought a stone, but I am thinking, especially after my conversation with Richard, about what I might want to leave there. There are quite a few options! Today, rather than fearing this climb, I am quite happy about it, and about the fact that I don’t know how far I will press on by the end of the day – Molinaseca, where the stage in the book ends, or Villafranca del Bierzo, the corresponding point to Rabanal before the next big climb. This may be a turning point in the pilgrimage.
Still, this, I think, is the point to stop, have some supper, and then cross over to the bar, which apparently has WiFi, and put this post and the photostream live.
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