Where in the world is David today? Villafranca del Bierzo

This afternoon the end feels in sight. I am in Villafranca Del Bierzo, as I hoped, after a wonderful day, and that puts me in the same position as this morning, i.e. ready at the beginning of a big climb. It also puts me effectively a day ahead of schedule. I am glad I broke with my intended pattern because Ponferrada did not exactly capture my imagination or my heart. So, having thought about it and talked to Kate, I am planning to stick to the schedule in the book now, but stop a night either 10km or 4km short of Santiago so that I can set off when she lands at the airport and we can arrive pretty much together. That means tomorrow will be a short day – just the climb and then a night at the top, and though they won’t be a doddle the remaining days won’t be long ones either. More time for thinking, walking and reflection will be nice.

My time in Rabanal del Camino was full of in-depth conversations, and it was very sad not to have more time to take the connections further. However, that is partly how the Camino is – paths cross, and connections may be made, but it is up to you – there’s really no pressure. Breakfast was good, but it was soon burned up. I wasn’t in a rush because the mileage today wasn’t too bad and it is Sunday, so there are no trucks out there! Hooray. Also there was a cap of cloud on the mountains, and it was cool, and I hoped the cloud would burn off. So, I left at about 7.40am, and the climb began gently straight away. It didn’t stay gentle for long, however, and at first I found it hard to establish a rhythm. Having a hacking cough which was affecting my chest (perhaps a legacy of the days of rain) didn’t help. After a break to take the first pictures a rhythm formed and I was really pleased with how the climb went. It wasn’t quite as long as the climb up into the Pyrenees, but every bit as steep and more exposed, and there was a slight breeze.

I kicked myself afterwards because some of the best views were from about 1.5km short of the top, and I didn’t stop because I didn’t realise they were going to disappear. I wasn’t, however, about to go down and come back up again to capture them. I was somewhat focused on the climb, and thoughts of what I would find – especially emotionally and spiritually – when I reached Cruz de Ferro, just short of the actual summit. Cruz de Ferro is an iron cross on top of a tall wooden pole at the summit of a huge pile of stones. Many pilgrims bring their stone from home, others choose one along the way, as I did.

The stones symbolize all sorts of things: sins that they want to leave behind, emotional scars they would like God to heal, prayers – you name it. There are undecorated stones, stones with names, stones with prayers written on them, stones with elastoplast. There are scarves, hats, water bottles, X-ray images, photographs. In one sense it is an utter mess, but it is extraordinarily moving. Of course there are ‘pilgrims’ having I-was-here photographs taken, having a laugh and moving on, but the vast majority are moving around in silence and with reverence, weeping and embracing, and either laying their stone down with the utmost care, or throwing it behind them over their shoulder as they finally walk away.

I shan’t say what I did, but I was there a long time before I was ready to leave, and the act of leaving was every bit as important as the act of laying down. It made me think of the symbolic acts we build into liturgy sometimes – this was far more powerful. I was pleased that George and Jake, who had left the albergue on foot quite a while before me, arrived before I left and we were able to share stories and stones a little.

There were other things at the summit too. There was a chapel, dedicated less than twenty years ago, but already scored with graffiti in a way that somehow didn’t matter – it reminded me of the ancient graffiti on the monument in the Langton Chapel in Redmarshall Church, marking something significant. There was also what I call the ‘human sundial’. I’m not sure how big it was – probably ten feet in diameter. The idea is that you stand in the right position and act as the gnomon of the sundial and where your shadow falls tells you the time. There are instructions to follow to apply corrections for different times of year. Quite remarkable – have a look in the photostream for details.

There was a bit more of a climb to do after Cruz de Ferro before the summit at 1517m – pretty high – and then the descent to Ponferrada began, with its many twists and turns. There were tremendous views, and I’ve tried to do some justice to them with photographs. The panoramas will need stitching together later. But the other notable thing was the wildflowers and birds. Birds I couldn’t catch, but wildflowers I could. Some I couldn’t identify, but there were great swathes of yellow and white gorse, and huge heathers of various hues near the top. As I descended, the lavender returned, and then about half way down, wild roses in huge quantities! No doubt some identification work will go on later, if my photos show enough detail. I didn’t do a very good job, I don’t think.

Molinaseca was a delightful village for a stop, and I encountered a group of Spanish mountain bikers there for about the sixth or seventh time. After that, it was a straightforward run to Ponferrada – one of those towns that is hard to find your way out of. The book was right about that, but all the landmarks it tried to give seemed to have moved, and I needed a guardian angel. An elderly gentleman put me right, using heavily Spanish-accented French, and kindly walked me to the point where I could see which way to go. That was after I had already cycled about 3km out of town on the wrong road and 3km back – wrong, but parallel to the right one and only about 50m from it. How annoying. Still, it didn’t matter in the scheme of things. I wasn’t exhausted, and I didn’t let it frustrate me. Ponferrada might have had some interest on a weekday, but the castle, as my mediaevalist friend George commented, is heavily Disney-fied, rather like Carcassonne, and the Museum of Radio was shut, being Sunday.

Riding out from Ponferrada on the right road was very straightforward, and heading into the mountains once more was energising. There were one or two stiff climbs again, but all in all it was a good end to the ride, and arriving in Villafranca del Bierzo I felt happy at the day’s achievement (passing the highest point on the pilgrimage), released by my experience at Cruz de Ferro, and content to arrive at an albergue described as ‘basic but welcoming’. The guide was right for once – on both scores. It is another of those delightful examples of very personal kitsch, but also a very personal touch. Just the same as last night, I was simply not allowed to carry my heavy panniers upstairs to the dormitory! The only sad thing is that somewhere on the section of the ride from Ponferrada, having finally been able to take off my nice windproof jacket, it must have come off the back of the bike. I hope some other pilgrim is feeling suitably blessed, and I will have to manage with my rainproof jacket if I need an extra layer. Tomorrow should be fine but looks like it may be very breezy. Rain is possible later in the week. We’ll see.

The albergue is just below the church in Villafranca, which is considered a major point on the Camino. It has a special door through which infirm pilgrims would pass in the early days of the pilgrimage, with the promise of the Pope that they would receive all the same benefits of a pilgrim making the full distance to Santiago de Compostela. It underlines the fact that many did not survive the journey – either because of an illness they had before they started, something they picked up along the way, or the difficulty of the journey. It is NOT easy, but a lot easier now than it was. The church is beautiful and simple and peaceful, and I enjoyed its atmosphere for quite some time.

The town itself is not especially distinguished. It has a castle, about which there was no information, but that’s about it. However, up here in the beginnings of the mountains there is a great atmosphere, and there is palpable excitement among the pilgrims – not just about the Australia-Germany game tonight, or the Grand Prix, or even the glorious sunshine outside, but about the approach of Santiago.

The bonus, still to be experienced, is that it is a feast day in the village – for St Anthony. The Hospitalero here made a great thing of the fact that Anthony is his saint, and there is a big dinner here tonight for the pilgrims as a result. Could be fun, but I would probably have preferred the marvellous concert of mediaeval and renaissance choral music that was on in the church last night. There are at least some English speaking pilgrims to chat with! A further good thing – they don’t rush you out of this place in the morning, so I can take my time getting off if I want (and if I can still sleep). I didn’t get a good night last night because someone had pinched my blanket and I was cold for the second night running, so the ear plugs will be in, and I will be hoping to sleep well. If not, then a nap will be in order again tomorrow afternoon after the long climb up to O Cebreiro. Now it is time to make my way to the cafe with WiFi in the square, and get this posted. Further thoughts can wait.

P.S. I just ran into my friend Herbert, from the albergue in Estella, on the way to the cafe. Unfortunately he's in the other albergue, so we can't eat together tonight, but he may come down to see me after dinner if there's a chance. That's how things work - as I said at the time, he was pressing on by public transport for a section, and I always wondered whether our paths would cross again. He seems tired, but happy.