Colville on the Camino

september 2024
En 23-dags äventyr från Iain Läs mer

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  • Triacastela to Samos

    22 september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ☁️ 14 °C

    I was up and away by about 7.45 and made it downstairs to the bar below the albergue to have breakfast. This consisted of coffee, fresh orange juice and what I now understand to be a neapolitana (or what the French call a pain au chocolate). I sat with a Canadian lady and my bunkmate from Seattle.

    It steadily grew light outside and it was time to get on our way and my bunkmate and I agreed to walk together to continue our conversation from last night.

    Just as the Camino came to the end of Triacastela, the path went in 2 directions. The main and traditional route went right towards San Xil and the slightly longer path to the left went via Samos, where there is a huge Benedictine monastery, said to be the largest (physically) in Spain if not the whole of Europe, as well as being one of the oldest - it was founded in the 6th century on the teachings of the mystic Desert Fathers before taking the Rule of Benedict in the 10th century.

    There had been some discussion in the evening, and with those we’d met outside the closed church, as to whether to take the Samos option. When I was originally making plans for my Camino, I had initially discounted the Samos diversion, primarily because it added 6 or so km to the journey to Sarria, the mostly likely next destination.

    However, as I travelled on the bus yesterday, I read up about the monastery at Samos and had decided I would, after all, go via Samos. The American lady we spoke to outside the church said she wanted to go to Samos, and it appeared that there was a good chance of Mass at the monastery church especially on Sunday. My bunkmate also decided he would like to go to Samos too.

    As we set off, the light drizzle turned into more definite rain. Undeterred, we took the path to the left at the end of the village which ran initially alongside the road. At first there there only a narrow track running behind the Armco barrier. This soon turned into a wider path with frequent sections of wooden decking to bridge across gaps where there was insufficient space beside the roadway before the ground level dropped into the ravine below. In between the passing traffic, we could clearly hear the rushing water of the Rio Sarria 10-20m below.

    The landscape here in Galicia is very different to the province of León and even the Bierzo region I left yesterday. All around were wooded hills and occasional rocky outcrops, with the mist swirling above.

    The path took various twists and turns and left the roadside to lead through wooded valleys and fields, passing through several tiny, and apparently deserted, villages, all whilst following the course of the river.

    After about 9 or so km, the huge monastery at Samos came into view below us, and the path descended into the village. We’d heard that mass would be at 12 noon (and that that monastery itself was not open until 12.45 and into the afternoon). We therefore decided to stop for coffee in a small bar just as a coach load of Spanish tourists poured into the bar. The sun had come out and so we sat at a table outside the bar, and waited for the tide of tourists to dissipate.

    After coffee, it was soon time to head over to the monastery church, and we met our other American friend from outside the Triacastela church.

    The monastery church was large and grand, with a large Benedictine cross suspended above the altar. We took our seats and sat in silent prayer as we waited for the mass to begin.

    As I’ve said before, although a Catholic mass is very different in style and liturgy to the Baptist church where I currently worship, there is something special about joining my brothers and sisters in Christ and in following their pattern of worship. I was better able to follow and join in with the liturgy of the mass this time, aided by my Catholic friend and bunkmate, as well as my bilingual liturgy book. Although unable to take mass, I again went forward for a blessing.

    It was a real privilege to be there and to take part in this service, and to see how moved my
    Catholic friends were by the mass.
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  • Samos to Sarria

    22 september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ☀️ 19 °C

    After mass, we walked back through the village to rejoin the Camino, as it again followed both the river and the road. It wasn’t long before the path left the road behind once again and we were back in quiet countryside.

    As my companion and I talked and shared our experiences of life and faith, the remaining 15 or so kilometres soon passed by and we reached the edge of Sarria.

    Sarria is a largish town just over 100km from Santiago and so is the starting point for a large number of pilgrims who walk the final distance to Santiago. Walking 100km is the minimum distance (as long as you also have a religious motivation or at least an attitude of searching) to qualify for the Compostela or certificate from the cathedral in Santiago which says that you have been a pilgrim on one or other of the many Caminos. Some say the Camino becomes like a motorway, and is much more commercialised from this point onwards. There is a commensurate increase in the potential number of beds but most pilgrims I’ve spoken to have booked ahead throughout the Camino, and as a minimum for this last part. Some say that there is a so-called “race for the beds” for those albergues which don’t permit reservations.

    With all this in mind, I had originally intended to try and avoid Sarria and the subsequent “big” stages, each of which are a day’s walk (or 20-25km) apart because of the potential difficulty in finding a bed amongst the increased volume of pilgrims. I equally expected that I might have to start booking a day or so ahead.

    However, having repositioned yesterday, I am likely now to be more or less perfectly in sync with most of those big stage towns or villages, at least for the next few days.

    One of the facets of this adventure on the Camino is to take each and every day as it comes, seeking to recognise how little I am able to plan or control, and equally not seeking to rush.

    In this I have sought to hold onto the Pilgrim’s Credo, written by Father Murray Bodo:

    “I am not in control.
    I am not in a hurry.
    I walk in faith and hope.
    I greet everyone with peace.
    I bring back only what God gives me.”

    And so, with more peace in my heart than I believed possible, I walked into Sarria at about 4pm this afternoon without having made any reservation or booking. Several other pilgrims expressed some surprise earlier in the day, when I shared that I hadn’t booked ahead but intended to stop at Sarria.

    My only plan was to start by trying the Xunta de Galicia albergue, run by the Galician regional government, which do not allow pre-booking.

    I found the Xunta albergue and went to the reception desk, to ask if they had any beds left. With a friendly smile, the hospitalera said yes.

    I don’t recall that she actually uttered the words “of course” but I felt chastened that I had asked the question half-expecting the answer to be no. I know I should have learnt by now that God doesn’t let us down when we concede control to Him.

    When I got to my assigned room, there were 10 beds, only one of which appeared to be taken, so presumably there were still another 8 spare beds at that point. Better still, my allocated bed (and most of the beds in this dormitory) were single non-bunk beds, so no top bunk for me tonight.
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  • Sarria to Portomarín

    23 september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ☁️ 15 °C

    I got up a bit later this morning and left the albergue just after 8am, and walked through the town back on the route of the Camino, keeping my eyes out for a bar serving breakfast.

    The larger numbers of peregrinos on the road was immediately apparent. Once I’d had a breakfast of tostada con mantequilla y mermelada, coffee and a zumo de naranja, I rejoined the steady stream leaving Sarria behind.

    It reminded me of my first day on the Camino. Excited knots of pilgrims gathered at every distance marker and sign, taking photos of one another. But, although there were a lot more pilgrims travelling and many in groups of half a dozen or more, there were plentiful gaps between in which one could walk in silence and solitude.

    It said that the countryside through which we were passing today is some of Galicia’s best and most typical. It struck me that Galicia shares many similarities with Brittany, including the landscape of the interior.

    The weather was also rather different from yesterday. It was cool but the sun eventually shone between the scattered clouds.

    On today’s stretch there were many bars and cafes offering sustenance to the passing pilgrims, as well many opportunities to get a sello in our passports - we now need to get at least 2 a day in the last 100 km. There was often a queue or huddle at each of these establishments.

    I walked on passing many pilgrims who were going more slowly, but there were always more on the road. I chatted briefly to a couple from northern Mexico, and some Americans, who had started this morning in Sarria. Later I was caught up by a large group of Spanish teenagers, I guess ranging from about 12-15. One group of boys wished me a loud Buen Camino and one boy asked if there was anything I needed, saying (in accented but excellent English) he was here to help! My path crossed with this group a few times and in a later conversation, I learnt that they were from Madrid.

    I paused at a quieter bar for a second breakfast of a slice of tortilla and more coffee, and stamped their sello in my credencial.

    A bit later, I walked for a while with a couple from Connecticut, who started at St Jean. Whilst we were talking, we reached the 100km (from Santiago) marker post in the village of A Peña and so we took photos of each other.

    After a series of uphill sections, the path began to descend towards today’s destination of Portomarín, on the far side of the Belesar reservoir, which flooded the valley between two halves of medieval Portomarín in the 1960s. The town first came into sight when it was about 5km away.

    There were three alternative routes leading to a modern bridge across the reservoir. I’d seen pictures of the steep and difficult, rocky path of the current main Camino, and so took one of the alternatives, which also had the advantage of being much quieter.

    Soon we arrived at the end of the long bridge. As we crossed the bridge, the entrance to Portomarín also came into view: there is a flight of 20 or so stone steps which lead up to a reconstruction of a single arched span of the medieval old bridge, and a gatehouse. The town is set into the hillside and so, once up the steps, the town centre was even further uphill.

    Like yesterday, I headed to the Xunta de Galicia albergue, which is run by the Galician regional government (known as the Xunta). However, this time there was no room at the inn.

    As I was contemplating my options, a couple of Spanish guys from my albergue last night, and who had followed me into the Xunta, came over and said that we could go to the tourist information office to register for the overflow albergue - which turned out to be in a building opposite the Xunta, and which I guessed was probably the former Xunta albergue building. We walked over to the tourist office and duly registered. The overflow would be opened at 5pm and so there was time to grab a drink and a late lunch (it was a little before 4 at this stage).

    At 5pm the doors opened and the throng of waiting pilgrims surged forward. There was a vague system at least at the start, whereby our names were called out, but then this seemed to be abandoned and we were admitted one by one, we paid our €10 and were handed a disposable paper sheet and pillowcase.
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  • Portomarín to Palas de Rei & San Xulian

    24 september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ☁️ 19 °C

    I had a slightly precarious night’s sleep on another top bunk, but this time with a guard rail only on one side despite the bunks being arranged with their ends to the wall! If not quite literally all night, I definitely went to sleep hugging the single guard rail!

    I was up by about 6.10 as were most of my 20 odd roommates, and after a quick banana, I set out into the dark and rainy town at about 7.10. It was not as busy as yesterday, but there were already a fair number of pilgrims on the road at this hour.

    The path left Portomarín and immediately went up a fairly steep hill, which became more gentle but seemed to go on and on. The path continued upwards even as it became light enough to dispense with head torches. The rain also got heavier!

    After about 9km, I stopped for breakfast of a bacon roll, a coffee and orange juice, and chatted briefly with the American lady who was also at the mass in Samos the other day. It was rapidly time to get going again and replace the wet layers - I think by this point, after a good couple of hours of constant rain, I was about as wet under my waterproof coat as outside it!

    The Camino passed a number of tiny villages, some with bars and other places offering sellos, but I was keen to keep going in the rain.

    On the edge of Ventas de Narón, I paused briefly to obtain a sello from a blind man inside a tiny chapel. He chattered away in rapid Spanish, which I couldn’t follow apart from the intermittent “buen Camino”. Fortunately, there was a short queue in front of me so I had chance to appreciate that he had 3 different stamps to deploy, and as he picked up one in sequence, he relied on the pilgrim to position his hands in the correct place over their credencial, and he would then press the stamp down when the pilgrim indicated he was good to stamp!

    The distance to Santiago on the regular marker posts continued to fall, and went below 70 not long before I walked into the next bigger town, Palas de Reí, some 26 or so km from Portomarín (or 28 if you believe my Fitbit). It was still raining, although a bit lighter than earlier.

    Having heard that there was less accommodation capacity here than Portomarín (and the municipal albergue wasn’t very big) I gave into temptation last night and booked a bed in San Xulian, about 3km beyond Palas de Reí.

    I decided to have lunch in Palas before making a decision whether to walk the rest of the way to San Xulian, or get a cab there (and back again in the morning). I found what looked like a nice, but reasonable restaurant (I should say that outside the big cities, eating out is very reasonable - with many main courses no more the €10, and often less).

    I went in and peeled off the outermost wet layers. I had a very nice hamburguesa and a glass of a local red wine, followed by some lemon ice cream. As I was contemplating paying and getting ready to decide whether my feet and legs would manage another 3.3km, the waitress informed me that the man in the green jumper on the next table had paid for my meal!

    Mr Green Jumper turned out to be a very kind angel called Frank. He and his 2 companions were retirees from Australia, and had started at Sarria, but were taking their time and doing about 10km a day, with rest days. We chatted for a while before the Australians left.

    Having rested (and dripped) in the restaurant for a hour or so, I decided to continue walking onto my albergue. The rain had mostly stopped when I stepped outside the restaurant, but started again before I’d left Palas de Reí.

    I soon reached the albergue and was very pleased to get out of my wet clothes and into a warm shower! One of my roommates, from California, said that he and his mother had tried the municipal albergue in Palas only to find that they only had one bed left, which his mother took, and so he had walked on to San Xulian.
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  • San Xulian do Camino to Arzúa

    25 september 2024, Spanien ⋅ 🌧 19 °C

    I had a v comfortable night, thankfully on a lower bunk. Those of my roommates who rose early were very quiet and so I slept a little later than I had intended. The albergue served breakfast and so I had a quick breakfast of yoghurt with honey for a change, and the usual coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice.

    The Camino was busy by the time I set out, but again there were frequent pockets of solitude and quiet to be found. After walking for a couple of kilometres, I and most others stopped to remove layers and especially rainwear - the forecast had been for rain from the morning onwards and so I think we had all prepared for the worst.

    For most of the morning, there were no more than a couple of short, token showers and the sun even showed its face. There was more wind but it didn’t feel at all cold. We were regularly climbing and descending as we passed through rolling hills.

    After about 10-11 km, the Camino brought us into Melide, a town just over the border into the province of A Coruña, still in Galicia, but the final province visited by the Camino. Since its foundation in the 10th century, Melide’s story has been connected to not only the Camino Frances (which I’m following) but also the Camino Primitivo (aka the Original Way because it was the first route, starting in Oviedo near the northern coast), both of which meet in the town.

    Hoping that, by doing so, I might miss the worst of the rain, I stopped for an early lunch in Melide, and had a delicious red cabbage salad, followed by arroz con leche (rice pudding). Just as I was finishing, a couple of Québécoise ladies asked if they could sit at my table - the restaurant was now full. We chatted briefly in French, before I set off once again.

    It was drizzling but the gusty winds of Storm Aitor soon brought heavier and heavier showers and ultimately, torrential rain for the rest of the day! I understand this is heading towards the UK - enjoy!

    It was a relief when the edge of Arzúa came into view, albeit this was almost immediately tempered by the steep climb of over 100m vertically in about 1 km, followed by an continuing gentler incline all the way into the town centre. The torrential rain was blowing at 45° as I located my albergue for the night. Yes, I had booked again.

    Having done my ablutions, I decided my wet clothes would be much drier if I put them through the washing machine (which ended with a spin cycle). Fortunately there’s also a tumble dryer for the few items that will tolerate that.

    I’m also delighted to report that the rain has finally eased enough to risk crossing the road to the cafe opposite without drowning.

    The last couple of days have been hard work, especially with the rain, and about 28 and 26km respectively. But it’s really quite amazing to think that I’m now just under 40km from Santiago, or just 2 days’ walking, God willing!
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  • Arzúa to Santa Irene

    26 september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ⛅ 18 °C

    I emerged from the albergue at about 7.45, peering into the gloom and trying to see whether it was still raining. I had succeeded in drying my clean clothes (including my preferred walking socks) but my boots, hat and coat were still pretty wet.

    It was raining a little and so I headed to a nearby bakery for breakfast.

    I set off once more just after 8, no longer needing my torch, and followed the straggly line of pilgrims picking up the trail, no doubt also in damp boots or clothes! By now the rain was a light and intermittent drizzle.

    The path rapidly led off into the countryside, with a regular series of ups and downs, or perhaps it was downs and ups today.

    It was still blustery and so as the Camino took us along under tree lined paths, it was hard to tell whether it was actually raining, or the trees were giving up the rainwater stored in their leaves. There may have been a shower or 2 at first but, within the first hour, the sky began to lighten and soon there were long shadows on the path in front of us, and patches of blue sky above, as the clouds whipped by on the wind.

    I paused for a second coffee and slice of apple cake after about 9km, and collected a stamp for my credencial. As I rejoined the throng moving along the Camino, I was delighted to bump once more into my bunk mate from Seattle (via Triacastela) who was walking with another friend, a doctor from Menorca. We walked together, also meeting some other of my bunkmate’s friends along the way, until I stopped at the village of Santa Irene. My friends were continuing to O Pedrouzo, a few km ahead and so we said our goodbyes, hoping to meet up again in Santiago tomorrow.

    I had attempted to book a bed in O Pedrouzo, which would have been the natural place to stop, with just under 20km to go. But I couldn’t find anywhere and so had no option to return to my previous approach of trusting that the good Lord would provide me a bed in the right place. I thought I would try the Xunta municipal albergue in Santa Irene, and then walk on if that was already full.

    However, partly as a result of a shorter day and having made pretty rapid progress with the sun out and walking and talking to friends, I got to the Santa Irene albergue before it opened, and so was 5th in the queue for their 30 odd beds. Thanks be to God!

    I was also delighted to be allocated a bottom bunk and, later, discovered that I’d already met my Australian upper bunk mate back in Itero de la Vega!

    As I wandered to the bar a couple of hundred metres back along the Camino, I bumped into an Italian friend from Oncina!
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  • Reflections from the Camino

    26 september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ⛅ 13 °C

    As the excitement grows amongst every peregrino that tomorrow we will reach our destination, the great Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, I wanted to share several thoughts that have been bubbling around in my head over the last 3 weeks.

    Although the path I’ve been called to follow for these last 3 weeks is the Camino de Santiago, or the Way of St James, this has never really been about St James or what may or may not be his bones in a gilded box in the cathedral I’ll visit tomorrow. Instead, this has always been, for me, a journey and an adventure, in the company of James’s Lord and Master, Jesus.

    There is something truly liberating in the simplicity of the daily routine on the Camino: Rise, pack, walk, eat and drink, walk some more, arrive and find bed, unpack, shower, put on tomorrow’s clothes, wash dirty clothes, rest, eat and drink, and sleep. This routine has created lots of space. Space to worship, space to pray and think, and space to meet and share with new friends as we journey together. Space to concentrate on being in, and making the most of, the present moment.

    There is equally something levelling about being one pilgrim amongst many other pilgrims. I’ve met many people who’ve started in different places, who have been out here for many, many different reasons. There are folk of all ages and nationalities. Some have been sending most of their luggage forward each day, others are being collected by a coach each day (and so seem not to carry much aside from a water bottle), and others too have lugged rucksacks every day. Some have slept in private rooms and hotels. Others have been in albergue dormitory rooms, snoring quietly or loudly. Some have booked ahead and some have not. Many are on their first Camino and others have done many already.

    But we have all been putting one step in front of the other, in the literal footsteps of countless millions of predecessors over the centuries, as we’ve shared the common endeavour of walking towards Santiago. And we’ve been encouraging one another along the way with a friendly “Buen Camino” (and other translations, meaning “Good Way”) or the traditional pilgrim greeting “Ultreia (et Suseia)” (meaning “Keep going, look beyond” and “look up, to the heavens”).

    As I’ve talked to many that I’ve met along the way, I’ve often been asked why am I out here on the Camino (and I’ve regularly asked the same question in return). It’s a question I’ll be asked too in the Pilgrim Office in Santiago tomorrow.

    So here’s the gist of the latest version of my answer: I’m here in part because I turned 50 earlier in the year, and when friends asked me what I was going to do to celebrate, the idea came to me that, rather than have a big party, I would walk part of the Camino de Santiago. This gave me the impetus to plan and so on, and to book the necessary time off work. But I’ve come to recognise too that I have been called by God to walk this particular pilgrimage journey.

    I might not have expressed this as clearly as this before I started, but I have become very conscious that I have been called here by Jesus. As I’ve walked, plodded and (even once or twice) trudged along, I’ve thought quite a lot about calling. I’ve come to see that the most important thing about that sense of calling is to focus on the One who is doing the calling. So often we put much of our energies into trying to discern with misplaced precision to what or where we think we are being called. I’ve learnt many times on the Camino that the destination will take care of itself and is not important. Our task is to head out, putting one foot in front of the other, and to concentrate on the One who calls us to walk with Him.

    The words pilgrim or peregrino both come from the Latin word peregrinus, which means a foreigner, or one who wanders. The sense of wandering seems to me to fit well with the idea of a sense of call to walk the ways of the One who calls us.

    On a similar note, one verse of Scripture that has reverberated inside my head, almost every day as I’ve walked, is this: “Show me your ways, LORD; teach me your paths.” (Psalm 25 v4).

    I know said, at the outset, that I was going on a long walk in Spain and I may have intimated the sense that I thought Jesus would be coming with me. In fact, the reverse has been the case. He’s always been there, walking alongside me, through the ups and downs of life, both here in Spain and previously. In the same way, He has always been there, and will continue to be, with you on your journey through life.

    And so I’ve sought to discover a small glimpse of where He has led me these past weeks, as I’ve tried to get to know Him more closely, and to learn more about His ways.

    One more sleep until I walk into Santiago, God willing. Ultreia et suseia!
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  • So close… Monte do Gozo

    27 september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ⛅ 17 °C

    The Cathedral in sight, from the Pilgrim monument on Monte do Gozo (the Mount of Joy). There’s something in my eye now…

  • Praza do Obradoiro

    27 september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ☀️ 18 °C

    I can’t really describe the emotions on arriving in the Praza do Obradoiro, and finally standing in here front of the Catedral de Santiago.

    There’s a Galician gaita piper (think bagpipes) piping us in, as you come down the steps and through an arch. And then, there you are, in the corner of a large square with, to your left, the famous facade of the Catedral looming above.

    I’ve been crying tears of joy, wonder, and relief to have made it here after walking just under 390 km. The square is filled with other peregrinos, sharing what I suspect are a similar range of emotions, greeting and congratulating one another. There are many too who are just sitting and watching, some in groups and a number on their own, taking in the scene, as the pipes sound out across the square.

    I am so very grateful to have reached this special place, and to have met so many wonderful fellow travellers along the Way.

    Having just looked it up, I’m also struck by the translation of the name of this square. Praza do Obradoiro means the Square of the Workshop (probably because it used to be a place where craftsmen had their workshops). The Camino has been something of a workshop for me, and I’m pretty sure for most of my fellow pilgrims too, at the gentle hands of a master carpenter from Nazareth.

    And it’s quite a nice feeling to be able to sit down in the square, knowing I don’t have to walk 20 km tomorrow!
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  • Santa Irene to Santiago de Compostela

    27 september 2024, Spanien ⋅ 🌙 10 °C

    I know I’ve already posted about my arrival in Santiago, but here’s a quick catch up on today’s journey of some 22km.

    I left the albergue a little before 8 and headed off into the pre-dawn gloom. The path was pretty quiet initially, with just a handful of pilgrims in sight. Although it wasn’t raining, the air felt cold and damp, and from sound of the passing traffic, it appeared that the nearby road surface was still wet.

    After 3km, the Camino passed by one end of the larger village of O Pedrouzo, where the friends I walked with for much of yesterday had stayed. Not surprisingly for a more recognised staging point, there was a significant increase in the volume of pilgrim traffic as those who’d stayed here rejoined the Camino.

    I decided to pause here for breakfast and so stopped at a bar to order my usual cafe americano and, today, una tostada con mantequilla y mermelada. A few minutes after sitting down, one of the Australians from last night’s albergue came in and joined me at my table. We’d only spoken briefly yesterday (it was the other Australian who I’d met previously) and so it was good to chat as we ate. Before long, it was time to head back out onto the road.

    Most people were dressed for rain, wearing waterproofs and with waterproof covers on their rucksack, or ponchos covering both pilgrim and backpack. There were one or two brief, tentative showers which came to nothing, and the path was soon full of pilgrims stopping to remove layers!

    Most of the path led through various woods, with the sunlight breaking through the remaining foliage still attached to the trees.

    After 7 or so km, the route of the Camino swung around one end of the runway of Santiago airport. We’d been able to hear the sound of planes taking off intermittently all morning.

    Next the path took us to San Paio, where there was a small church dedicated to the relics of (it is said) no fewer than a dozen saints. I collected a sello in my credencial but didn’t stop to count the relics!

    Not long after San Paio, we came to Lavacolla, a village where medieval pilgrims would wash themselves in the river, in order to present themselves clean on arrival in Santiago. Rather than adhering to this custom, I stopped for an early lunch of a mixed sandwich. My stop was timely, as the heavens opened with a heavy shower for at least 5 or so minutes whilst I was eating.

    I set off once more after the rain had stopped and found the river on the far side of the current village. Instead of washing in the river, I took advantage of a man offering melted wax sellos beside the bridge.

    The Camino climbed away from Lavacolla to a hilltop on which 2 local Galician TV stations had studios and broadcast centres (one with a big antenna).

    After a few twists and turns, we came next to San Marcos, a tiny village with a couple of bars. In part seeking to spin out these last kilometres, I was deliberately taking my time, and so took another short break, this time for a cup of tea.

    Just past San Marco, is the Monte do Gozo (Hill of Joy) which contains a large holiday village complex and park, including a huge open air theatre area where Pope John Paul II conducted a mass in 1993 for World Youth Day.

    Taking a slight detour off the main Camino led to the Pilgrim Monument (see earlier post) which is meant to be the first point from which pilgrims catch sight of the cathedral. You can in fact see the spires just a few metres off fhe Camino, at the very edge of the park, rather than walking the extra 600m across to the monument. Perhaps that’s why so few pilgrims appeared to go to the monument- there was certainly no one else nearby when I was there. The signage is also poor, although the guidebooks and apps highlight this as something worth doing.

    Although still more than 4km away (and therefore a good hour or so to go), it was a moving sight to see the baroque spires of the cathedral. After taking the obligatory photographs, I continued through the park to rejoin the Camino just before it crossed the AP-9 motorway and then a dual carriageway on the outskirts of the city. The Camino enters the city through the suburb of San Lazaro.

    Eventually, following now the scallop shells set into the pavement (and few signposts), we were led into the old city. Once, I caught a glimpse of the cathedral spires, but my attention was drawn to the happy, but weary faces of pilgrims who, having been into the city, were now coming back, perhaps to their accommodation. As I entered the old city, I bumped into a few friends - the Spanish doctor and Croatian couple - who wished me well in my last few streets.

    Following the scallop shells set into the pavement wasn’t easy amongst the mingling crowds of tourists and pilgrims. At last, I could hear the sound of the Galician pipes, which I knew meant the Praza do Obradoiro (in Gallego, the Galician language) or the Plaza del Obradoiro (Spanish) was close.

    Suddenly the arch way and piper appeared on my left, and I was there - see my separate arrival post for what happened next.

    I stayed for a while in the square, soaking up the atmosphere, before deciding it was time to find my accommodation, about a 5 minute walk away. I’m staying a slightly more upmarket albergue which is also a pension, although I’m in a shared room for just 4, and the albergue has granted my request for a bottom bunk!

    After checking in, I wandered back towards the cathedral and promptly met my former Triacastela bunk mate from Seattle. We caught up our arrival experiences and decided to find somewhere to get a drink overlooking the Praza do Obradoiro. We ended up chatting to a couple from near Belfast, who had finished the Camino Portugués the day before.

    After a couple of Tinto de Veranos, we found ourselves a tapas bar, and enjoyed a delicious selection of cold meats and local cheeses, all washed down with Spanish wine.
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