DID YOU KNOW THAT… there are only around 700 kilometres (437 miles) to go to Santiago de Compostela from here? Bon voyage, pilgrim!”
My 21st century Anglo-Catholic theology does not allow me to accept that my sins are pardoned just because I reached this hilltop. However, I can appreciate that such a belief must have been immensely reassuring to medieval pilgrims. Their Camino would have had very real dangers that I am not expecting to meet. That said, my 21st century Camino is proving to be more challenging than a stroll in a park. Other modern pilgrims have demonstrably found that to be the situation as well. We have passed two memorial sites with large crosses on our walk today. These crosses marked the spots where two pilgrims had died in the not too distant past. We had halted at each memorial and spent a time of silence honouring the lives of those pilgrims, whom we never met, but who had loved the Camino. I too am learning to love The Way of St James.
I am very taken with the poetic name of the sculpture: Where the route of the wind crosses that of the stars. The Way of the Camino follows directly under the path of the Milky Way. It is sometimes recorded that the word, ‘Compostela,’ is derived from the Latin campus stellae, or the field of stars. This might link to another legend of the (re)discovery of St James’ remains by a young boy who spotted a star above a field – rather reminiscent of the Bethlehem story - and upon investigation, it was remembered that the body of St James had been buried there some seven hundred years earlier. However, more recently it has been suggested that ‘Compostela’ is derived from the word for a cemetery.8
Santiago began its rise as a pilgrim destination with the (re)discovery of St James’ remains. Whether the remains were discovered by the Holy Emperor or by a little shepherd boy is not certain. What is undeniable, is that over time, Santiago was to eclipse both Jerusalem and Rome as the preferred pilgrimage destination. At the height of pilgrimage season in medieval times, hundreds of thousands would take the perilous route to Santiago.
Pilgrimages grew in popularity from the 10th century on. Pilgrims flocked to Santiago Compostela to have their sins forgiven and receive a guarantee of eternal salvation through a revered holy icon, the remains of St James. For some medieval pilgrims, a pilgrimage was their only chance of ever getting release from their serfdom to take a holy-day (holiday). Some of the pilgrims walked on behalf of rich masters to gain indulgences on their behalf. Despite the very real dangers of ill health and death, of being robbed, or murdered, they experienced a time of companionship (needing to travel in groups for safety), friendship and laughter. Chaucer, in the Canterbury Tales, certainly wrote as if a pilgrimage was a riotous holiday. I am not sure I am having a riotous holiday. I am finding the walk more challenging than anticipated, but I could possibly blame the ankle and blizzard for that.
While my theology does not completely align with the rhetoric of the Alto de Perdón, I do accept that we are walking beneath the Milky Way, but have not as yet, had the weather to view any stars. I do know from personal experience though, that the wind is present on that mountain top.
Although I still cannot see ahead or behind, I can just make out that we are on the top of a narrow ridge and that the drop off the sides is dramatic, despite a relatively easy ascent. The descent will be different and tortuous. The guidebook has warned of the ease with which an ankle can be twisted on this descent. Slowly, oh so very slowly, I place each foot on the loose rolling stones. I will need to concentrate on every step for the entire five hundred metre descent.
Three young pilgrims skip past. They are light footed and fast. Their feet barely seem to touch the ground. I am very envious. Then a (middle aged) couple pass us, also not finding the steepness or the rolling stones problematic. I can only manage this downhill section with two walking poles and at an excruciatingly slow pace.
At last we arrive at the village of Uterga. We book into the private albergue - it is another lovely hostel. There are just six of us in the albergue including two young women from Germany. They were part of the threesome that passed us on the downhill earlier today.
I am cold again and have a very hearty pilgrims’ meal. It is a set menu, but for the first time there are options in each of the courses. Again, I eat too much, but hope that my body will be grateful in the morning as we will need to begin walking without breakfast. We plan to leave early before the albergue shop opens. Unfortunately, I had not thought to buy breakfast supplies before the shop closed. There is no other shop in this small village.
Uterga to Estella
32 kms (19.9ml)
696.7 kms (432.9ml) to Santiago
It is in the shelter of each other
That people live.
Irish Proverb
March 28, Day 7
WE WAKE TO SOME BLUE sky, occasional sun and a slightly higher temperature. The shy sun is very welcome. I look around and decide that beauty has been surrounding us ever since we landed in Spain: beauty in the generosity and hospitality of those we meet, beauty in the ancient stone buildings and beauty in the physical landscape. My ankle is still painful, but I am so thankful to be here doing what I am doing.
Annemarie, Bruce and I do not take the diversion to the Eunate - the church linked to the Knights Templar - as my ankle is throbbing. I am very disappointed and even though the diversion will only add three kilometres to the day’s walk, we walk on. We walk between grape and olive groves scattered among fields of grass and yellow mustard. I am suddenly aware I have not seen any fences: coming from New Zealand, the land of Number 8 wire and fenced paddocks, this is an unusual and worthy-of-notice phenomenon. The ponies and their bells were fenced in of course. How do people know where their land boundaries are? There are only a few isolated farm houses standing among the acres of land. I come to realise that those who work the land live in houses in the hilltop villages and the fields fill the spaces between settlements. As I had seen on the bus trip to Pamplona, the animals are contained in large barns on the outskirts of groups of houses. Bruce and I can usually identify these barns by smell, sound, as well as sight, as we walk past.
In the distance, I see another new sight. Walking down a farm road is a shepherd, followed by two barking dogs, trailed by about two hundred sheep (Bruce’s estimate). Astounding! We cannot see where the sheep have come from nor where they are going. There are no fences or gates along this road to stop any sheep having a mind of its own and straying at will. The sheep just follow along behind with very few straying off the road and those that do so soon re-join the flock. In New Zealand, the shepherd would have been at a distance to the sheep, with a whistle in his/her mouth to command the dogs who would be tearing around the sheep, occasionally having the odd nip at a recalcitrant animal. Here the shepherd utters a call, the dogs bark in response and all is entirely ordered. This is surprising to one used to seeing sheep harassed from one paddock to the next.
We left Uterga with empty stomachs and have now walked through two hilltop villages where albergue and village shops were closed. Providentially, one albergue had installed a hot drinks machine outside and we are grateful for the hot chocolates from this machine. Other writers have decried the placement of these machines along The Way, but that machine gives my body a much-needed sugar and adrenaline boost. I am grateful: all is now well.
Puente La Reina (literally the Queen’s Bridge) is another picturesque town. The Camino takes us along the Calle Mayor with its preserved buildings; some with mayoral shields still proudly displayed. We walk past palaces and large houses with jutting eaves and elegant balconies. Annemarie, Bruce and I stop at a little shop which stocks fresh fruit and bread. Our purchases go into our backpacks for later. What we need is a restaurant for a serious meal as it is now early afternoon and we have had neither breakfast nor lunch. After our meal, eaten so late we cannot call it brunch, Annemarie leaves the restaurant to look for the post office and then decides to walk on. Bruce and I have enjoyed her company and friendship.
&n
bsp; This town is named after the queen, Doña Mayor, who commanded the building of the famed six arched bridge in the 11th century. She wanted to ensure the safe crossing of the steadily increasing numbers of pilgrims across the Río Arga. The Romanesque bridge is lovely and has survived in perfect condition. Bruce and I cross the bridge then pause for a photo which a kind local takes for us - so much easier than a selfie.
For the first time since our second day of walking, Bruce and I are alone on the Camino. Our time alone gives us the opportunity to talk together and to have time apart for solitude and personal reflection. We talk of all the support we have received and given through the hard days of cold, snow and rain. We also reflect on what the Camino is beginning to mean to us individually and as a couple. Bruce has come to realise that his experiences and the challenges of the Camino thus far, are different from what he had anticipated. He is mentally and emotionally adjusting to meet a 21st century pilgrimage. For example, he has been unprepared for the very many ways people are approaching their Camino. Some are here purely for physical training, others are walking because they have seen the movie, The Way. Yet others are walking in the hope of meeting a potential lifelong partner, or to move past hardship in their lives. Some have come for the experience of a very long walk and the challenges it presents. There are those who very clearly want to partake in a pilgrimage.
As Bruce and I walk, I reflect on my many lessons and learnings over the past week for it is now Day Seven of our walk. I realise I need to let go of ways I habitually respond to some situations. I am having to face fears and am beginning to find joy in not knowing what lies ahead. With each step forward I am letting go the need to know with its reassurance of certainty. This is a big shift away from my need to plan to the nth degree. I am now walking in the knowledge that ‘all is well and will be well,’ even though I do not know what is ahead. I am delighted to notice these things for I now know my long walk is a pilgrimage.
I smile at the memory of some of my conversations with work colleagues and my pronouncement, “I’m off to have an adventure. If Bilbo Baggins can have one so can I.” Little did they know that my private name for myself through late adolescence and early adulthood had been ‘Little Miss Much Afraid’, a name I had borrowed from a book entitled, Hind’s Feet on High Places, by Hannah Hurnard. I was afraid to venture into the unknown and anxious in unfamiliar social settings. Now, at age fifty-nine, I want the adventure I did not have the courage to have at age twenty. I am taking courage from Bilbo Baggins, while being aware that any dragons I meet, will be of my own making. A fictional literary character – now movie star - has become my mentor.
Throughout the Camino, our pace will be set by our wills, our bodies, our mental state and perhaps even by events unanticipated at the start. We will be living for seven weeks without the so called essential trappings of a contemporary western lifestyle: no television, advertising, or purchased entertainment, life stripped down to what is necessary. My life on the Camino has already become simplified to what I carry on my back, the food, shelter and drink we might need and how and where these might be found. While longing for adventure and the spiritual, mental and physical challenge of a long walk, I know I also need to step outside the complexity of contemporary life, to let go of being over-responsible, to slow down to human speed, to notice and enjoy how my five senses respond to my environment. Moving at a human speed will help me remember that it is the small things of life that are important. I need to be more fully engaged in the present moment instead of constantly thinking ahead. In so doing, I will enjoy the gift of life which my normal frenetic activity precludes. I know I want to spend most of the daylight hours outside, among nature, experiencing what is lost to me in my predominantly indoor city life. I am yearning for solitude in a physical and spiritual space where I can hear my own thoughts. I want to be able to relax into each daily decision. My Camino and pilgrimage is about letting go and becoming. In my sixtieth year, on this pilgrimage, I have the time and space to reflect upon my life, to consider what might lie ahead and how I might best live whatever length of life I have remaining to me on this precious Earth. I want to trust and have faith that my journey will unfold in the way it needs to.
I am aware that in the Christian church calendar it is the Season of Lent. Bruce and I attended the Ash Wednesday service at St Paul’s Cathedral, London - a joy for me. To be walking a pilgrimage during Lent seems appropriate. I wonder where we will be during Holy Week, the week leading up to Easter. As an aid to our pilgrimage I am reading aloud, each morning before leaving the albergue, a translation of the Lord’s Prayer from Syrian Aramaic - translator Neil Douglas-Klotz - given to me by Glenda Jamieson.
Over the coming days and weeks two lines become the focus of my meditation:
Loose the cords of mistakes binding us
as we release the strands we hold of others’ faults.
As I walk, I experience the feeling of being held in a calm and warmth of forgiveness that I have not previously understood. I am grateful that I am here, on this pilgrimage, with space and time apart from the usual demands of contemporary life. I am aware that my needs are being met even before I am conscious of a potential need. For example, my unexpected evening with Heather. While being with her I learnt how the post office works. When I now need a post office I know what to do and expect. Instead of finding myself highly stressed with an unknown process, I enjoy my knowledge and have fun engaging with postal staff. Other pilgrims we have met have also shared knowledge with us when we have needed it. On the other hand, pilgrims have asked to walk with us because of the knowledge we have: principally, how to find our way and not miss important turn offs. Once they have gained confidence they then move on. While I am grateful for this time and space in my life, I am aware that I am missing those I love. The gulf of separation is always present alongside the joys and lessons of the Camino.
I realise with interest that this opportunity for self-reflection comes the day after our ascent of Alto del Perdón; the Mountain of Forgiveness.
We continue towards Estella, and with Annemarie no longer with us, we are without any Spanish speaking pilgrim companion. I realise how much I have begun to lean on fellow pilgrims who can speak Spanish. I am grateful for the time with Wayne and Julia and the quick language lessons. I am grateful for the language gained from fellow pilgrims and bar tenders. I am grateful for the kindness and generosity of all who engage with us.
Estella is enchanting. The restored medieval bridge catches our eye and we plan to cross it during our visit. But not now. We are tired and need a bed. The municipal albergue does not look inviting despite its enticing four euros per person per night. Outside this albergue we meet two older women from Norway. One had been hospitalized because of an attack of acute diarrhoea. These women are at least twelve years older than us.
As we walk on in search of the newer youth hostel, we see the two young German women we had met at Uterga. “How did you get here so quickly?” they ask us. Bruce and I are a bit flummoxed by that question. We both know we are not quick. They add, after catching our surprised looks, “We caught the bus and you are still here before us. We are so tired after our first day of walking yesterday; we could not walk today. That guy we met and walked with, was so fast.”
Bruce wants to stop for two nights in Estella. I am frustrated and disappointed. “We’ve only walked two days since our previous stop.” Nevertheless, I know he needs the rest. Bruce is exhausted and has been experiencing chest pains brought on by the extreme cold he experienced during the blizzard. Furthermore, he has developed a cough and we need to purchase medication. I reluctantly agree to the extra day in Estella. At this rate, we will take forever to get to Santiago.
Rest day in Estella
Self-compassion is a wonderful gift
to give to yourself.
John O’Donohue (1956 – 2008)
March 29, Day 8
I HAVE A WONDE
RFUL TIME in Estella. I discover Estella to be a small town with some Roman structures remaining. I cross back and forth over the icy looking Río Ega on the ancient and newer bridges, enjoying my solitary day while Bruce rests and sleeps. Later in the afternoon we find a pharmacy and the bill comes to fifty euros. We are now well stocked with medication for Bruce’s cough and surely sufficient pain killers and anti-inflammatories to last us both a little while.
That evening, Bruce and I (the only pilgrims present) attend the church service at the 12th century Church of San Pedro de la Rúa. It has an amazing entrance that recedes overhead in layers. We walk underneath this imposing entrance and into the church. Like other Gothic churches it is very stark on the outside, but has an exquisite interior. I am delighted with the very high vaulted stone ceiling with, what I am going to call struts, soaring up to support the structure overhead. Bruce estimates the ceiling to be about thirty metres above us.
After mass, we join in the Stations of the Cross service and I am stirred by the ritual and the apparent sincerity of the worshippers. There is no call forward to receive the Pilgrims’ Blessing. This is not a service for pilgrims, but for locals, as they continue the journey through Lent in preparation for Easter.
We stroll around the little town during dusk. It is very cold again with a wind coming straight off the snow-topped mountains. The blizzard we had walked through is still making its presence felt. We pass a group of young boys kicking a soccer ball on flagstones. We have noticed that soccer balls are also kicked around on concrete and tarmac. There is often no grass in the villages we pass through and the children play on the hard surfaces.
Bruce and I come to the base of the rock on which the fortress church, Iglesia San Miguel is built. Even though the church is above us, we can see that the stones in the wall of the church are enormous. How on earth did they cut these blocks of stone and transport them up the hill, let alone lift them into place? Bruce wants to look inside the church so we continue to walk up the hill and I notice I am feeling cross. I try to shift my mood by remembering to ‘just rest’ in what the Camino brings. That thought helps a little, but I really do not want to be walking up another hill in the freezing wind. However, I keep climbing, following Bruce. We continue to climb, then climb some more and still we are not at the church fortress. Eventually we walk around a corner and there is the front door. In the dark, it is hard to distinguish where the rock on which the church is built ends and the actual church walls begin. The ancient timber doors are locked. Bruce is disappointed.
Kiwi on the Camino Page 7