Final thoughts....

Some time ago Rob the Canadian asked me why I was doing the Camino. I told him that it was going to be a ‘booster’ to my faith in human nature, explaining that in my experience people put in challenging environments quickly let their barriers down, open up and work with each other in a more constructive and positive manner than strangers tend to normally; they become more engaged and tend to become more social, more focused on the benefits of the group and less locked in their individual worlds. It is uplifting - in a way comforting - something that I believe lies in some deep-rooted evolutionary aspect of man’s social instincts that modern society can often smother.

The question between people now that we have finished - sometimes implicit - is what you have got out of walking the Camino? Are you a changed person? How has it affected you? For me I think the answer is ‘not that much’. Of course any extended period in a different environment with strangers will teach you something about yourself however self-aware you may be. But for me no great spiritual uplifting or ‘road to Damascus’ moment.

There is however something liberating about a long distance walk. Each day on the Camino is a cycle of simple acts: you wake, you walk, you find somewhere to stay and to eat, and then you prepare for that same cycle the following day. Your day is filled with the basic requirements of life and these basic requirements become the focus of each day. It doesn’t matter about the weather, whatever it brings you accept it, as you accept other issues more readily both in what is around you and in the people you meet; you begin to see the good rather than the not so good and in doing so approach each day in a positive frame of mind.

You spend a large part of your day walking. It is hard and it is tiring, sometimes you can’t wait for it to end and other days you want it to go on forever. Walking is your day, your entertainment and your frustration. It places you in, and allows you to think about, your surroundings or to be simply lost in your own thoughts while still giving you purpose. It takes the place that is filled back home by your work, your television, your radio, your newspaper but without all the distractions and intrusions these bring.  For a month I hardly listened to the news. I did not miss it and it wasn’t important. The reality is I missed out only on listening to reports - keeping myself informed as might I see it - on matters that I had no control over and yet which could affect me in some way and at the very least frustrate. Instead I filled my day with simple things that I could influence and that impacted upon me; where I was going that day and with whom; where I stayed; what I ate; who I spoke to – or not. In doing so I guess in some deep corner of my psyche I felt as if I had more control, was released from subconscious feelings of powerlessness and as a result was more content and relaxed.

What makes the Camino different is the length of time and the number of people involved; the experience goes on for longer and becomes an individual’s normality and it is a ‘normality’ that is shared with many others giving it even greater significance. There is a greater sense of breadth and depth to what you experience on the Camino than in other things I have done that have a similar effect. It provides an extended detachment from the world - a detachment that allows you a period in which you can get a different perspective of the world - rather than a fundamentally spiritual experience.

So it is with these thoughts in my head that I finish my Camino. As a result of the last few weeks I have met and got close to some wonderful people. I have made new friends with whom I have shared something different, even special. I have been touched by some of the stories I have heard and I certainly look on my life and upbringing with increased appreciation. Would I do it again? I think I might but not on my own: I would want to look for something different, although I can think of only two or three people with whom I would want to share it.  But I would recommend it to anyone.

The Galician Cross

As I walked the Camino I saw an unusual red cross on many of the scallop shells tied to people's rucksacks. I eventually asked about it in a small religious hostel from a man who had these crosses embroidered on his tunic and was told it was the Galician cross, symbolic of Galicia and of course St James, the saint of that region.

Like many christian crosses it is a red cross on a white background - the blood and purity of Christ - but the cross was developed into a sword: Galcia was the only kingdom of the Iberian peninsula not conquered by the Muslim armies and the Galician kings believed St James was granting them protection and from this belief the Christian red cross evolved into the symbol we see today.

The rise and fall and rise of the Camino

By the 12th Century the Camino was a highly organised and popular route with rich and poor alike travelling the route to visit the tomb of St James. Many pilgrims did not do the journey by their own volition; there are records of people needing to complete the trip in order to earn an inheritance and others who had to complete it as a sentence imposed by a court. (There is apparently still a tradition in Flanders of pardoning and releasing one prisoner every year under the condition that, accompanied by a guard, the prisoner walks to Santiago wearing a heavy backpack). Pilgrims travelled for weeks or months to arrive at Santiago de Compostela and many arrived with very little due to illness or robbery; being attacked on the Camino was one of the great risks of the early travellers. 

It was the ravages of the Black Death in the mid 14th Century that saw the beginning of the decline of the Camino, followed by the impact of the Protestant Reforms of the 16th Century.  The idea of pilgrimage became unpopular and was banned in many countries (Henry VIII banned it in Britain).  In the late 16th century the relics of St James were hidden to prevent possible theft by Sir Frances Drake and were subsequently 'lost'.  With no body to venerate the number of pilgrims fell even further and in the Holy Year of 1867 only 40 pilgrims turned up for the St James' day Mass.  Fewer than twenty years later, after a determined effort, the relics were found and once declared genuine by Rome the numbers of pilgrims once again began to rise. 

Today's popularity is as a result of activity in the 1980s with the formation of Camino interest groups, a priest with a vision of how it could be and a lot of volunteers clearing and marking the routes.  This work has seen the numbers rise from just over 2000 in the mid 1980s to over 270,000 in 2010 making the Camino what it is today.

Day 39 - Santiago de Compostela

My last full day in Santiago: a nice lie in, a late breakfast in a plush cafe (coffee and tortilla as per usual) and a visit to the Museum of Galician Culture made for a relaxed day. And strangely the rain had stopped. The afternoon was rounded off by a beer in a street-side cafe watching the crowds go by.

The museum was interesting, an eclectic collection of tools and equipment associated with Galician industry and life: woodwork and metal work; clothing and instruments; agriculture and fishing. It reminded me of my dad’s garage. The stated aim of the museum was to expose people to Galician culture and to help them understand it; the breadth of exhibits certainly went some way towards this. However, it would have helped significantly if every label for every exhibit were not written in Galician - and only Galician. I can not work out whether this was arrogance or stupidity but as a means of educating non-Galicians on the Galician culture it provided an insurmountable obstacle and was counterproductive. Interestingly though, on exiting there was the usual appeal for funds - ‘we would not survive without the generous donations of our visitors..’ etc etc – written in a range of European languages and certainly on the part of the English translation grammatically perfect.

In the evening we met Rob and Greg for a farewell meal (a kebab!), a final drink with some other friends of theirs in another bar in town and then Gale and I headed off back to our hostel. Tomorrow we both depart Santiago, Gale for Madrid and me for home.

 

Day 38 - Santiago de Compostela

Today is the day the rest of us begin to go our own way. We were up before 7am to say farewell to Myra who left for the airport shortly after. As it was still raining the rest of us were not inclined to rush out so we lounged around the flat before eventually heading into the centre for breakfast. The rest of the day was spent exploring the Pilgrim Museum - covering the history of the pilgrimage and the city and well worth a visit whether you have walked the Camino or not - and then the adjacent cathedral. Apart from the overly gaudy shrine area for the relics of St James the interior of the cathedral appeared tired, very different to the flamboyant exterior, and our general consensus was '500 miles for this...?'

           

It was still raining when we headed for lunch in the old town so afterwards we just chilled in the hostel Gale and I had booked for the next two days. It was then off through the rain to meet Rob and Greg for the evening, a glass of wine in the the very impressive five-star Parador by the cathedral, farewell to Janna, and then us boys headed off for a lads' night out... well sort of. We found a small bar full of locals listening to locals playing Galician music, bagpipes and drums and flutes and very Celtic like Irish and Scottish music. Everybody was singing and clapping along and the atmosphere was great. We headed off after a quick chat with the players late in the evening, grabbed one last drink and then made our way to bed. And it was still raining.


     

Day 37 - Finisterre

Today we aimed to walk out to the lighthouse at Finisterre, a three kilometre walk out of town and along the peninsula, before catching the coach back to Santiago. It was a leisurely walk in the sun along the road, high on the peninsula with views down to rocky shores and across to the mainland. We enjoyed a relaxing time pottering around the souvenir shop and the area around the lighthouse before a celebratory beer and a walk back to town for lunch and a coach to Santiago.

We are now relaxing in an apartment, the rain once again beating down outside. We have collected the bags we deposited three days ago and bought some local wine and cheese, Myra is readying herself for a 7.30am departure tomorrow and none of us are inclined to head out for dinner so we will just relax. Although Janna doesn’t leave until tomorrow evening and Gale and I have a couple of days left to explore Santiago the feeling is that my trip is clearly drawing to a close.

The last marker

Day 36 - Negreira to Finisterre (70km - sort of...)

We enjoyed another good meal last night in the hotel (more octopus for me...). There was a pilgrim's menu but we avoided it. This morning after a relaxed breakfast we checked out the buses to Finisterre and it turns out that despite being on the main route to the 'end of the earth' buses only run to Muxía further up the coast, a place I would like to visit if I had more time but not now. We could get a bus to Finisterre from there although the next bus to Muxía was not until 5pm. The quickest way to Finisterre from Negreira we were told was to catch the next bus back to Santiago and then a bus from Santiago to Finisterre. What a contribution a day's walk has made...

We opted for a taxi; quicker although more expensive but between us still cheaper than a trip to Santiago and back by bus. We had an hour to wait and spent the time relaxing in the hotel. It was probably the first time that I have had nothing to do or think about for a month: no destination I had to get myself to, no accommodation to find or dinner to think about, no washing to do or places to see. I felt strangely privileged and relaxed having nothing particular to concern me. I was keenly aware of the fact I had time to myself and I had a real sense of appreciation for it. I can not recall the last time I felt like that.

We arrived at Finisterre early afternoon although I slept most of the journey in the taxi; I think I am now allowing the last month to catch up with me. Finisterre is like a not too tatty British seaside town; lots of accommodation and a smattering of restaurants of all standards intermingled with souvenir shops. We had lunch in a nearby vegetarian cafe and found a cheap hotel where we sat having a couple of beers with no other plans to speak of. On this occasion though the free time did not feel quite as special, it began to feel as if I simply had time on my hands; I think I am on my transition back to the real world.

I had a siesta while the others headed out to explore and in the evening we enjoyed a superb meal in a seafood restaurant although I felt a little bad when they fished a crab out of the central tank knowing he was going to end up on my plate....  Tomorrow it is back to Santiago.

Untitled...

For any non British, this is a joke based on the Scottish band 'The Proclaimers' and one of their hit songs '500 miles'.

Day 35 - Santiago de Compostela to Negreira (22km)

Last night we enjoyed a good meal in the hotel courtesy of Steve, a significant step up from the 'pilgrim menus' of the last few weeks, and said our farewells to Robin, Steve and their grandson Liam. The plan today for the rest of us was to begin a three day walk to Finisterre although getting there and getting back in time for some to catch flights was going to be a challenge. We had also decided to reduce our pack numbers for the walk with Gale and I carrying everything for the group.

We eventually got sorted, dropped the unwanted bags in storage, had breakfast and headed off. The first issue was to find our way out of the city; the route was supposedly well marked but we couldn’t find it, not helped by the fact we didn’t have a map and the place we had been told to get one was shut yesterday. After asking various locals we were on the route and heading out of town. By this time we had decided that our plan would be to walk as far as we cared to today and then get a bus tomorrow in order to be able to spend a night in Finisterre before heading back to collect our stuff and for Myra and Janna to get flights.

Before long we were out of the city and in woodland: tall eucalyptus trees and oak with ferns lining every foot of the path reminded me more of rainforest than temperate woodland. It was quiet and totally peaceful. We each walked in our own personal silence enjoying the moment and for my part there was an added sense of calm knowing there was no need to reach a particular destination, no need to rush: it was very relaxing. At those moments that it registered it did feel strange knowing you were walking away from Santiago, a place I had spent the last month getting to, but generally I just enjoyed a slow pace and the tranquility of the surroundings.

We walked through the occasional small hamlet, modern and red roofed but with very few houses, and saw hardly anybody. We made a steep climb through more woods and by mid afternoon we arrived at the old village of Ponte Maceira where the little information we did have suggested we

would find accommodation. It proved not to be the case so we are now two miles further on in a small hotel in Negreira, a place that passes as a relatively large town around here. We are not inclined to go exploring, more because we all feel like relaxing as the last month catches up with us rather than the uninteresting surroundings. So tonight we will eat in the hotel before making arrangements to catch a bus tomorrow to Finisterre.

Understanding fellow pilgrims....

They say the Camino touches you, makes you a better person and allows you to better appreciate your fellow man. Despite that, as we walked to Santiago, Janna and I for some reason felt inclined to spend time compiling a list of 'Camino capital offences', in other words those pilgrim behaviours that we felt warranted the highest level of punishment.

Those people in albergue bunk houses that don't put their phones on silent at night and sleep through the continuous beeps and pings of message and Facebook alerts that wake everybody else.

People who sit up in their bunks late at night playing with their phones and illuminating the whole room with the brightness of the screen.

Any large group of pilgrims, particularly if singing, should be culled in the same way as a deer herd to achieve a more manageable size.

Anybody doing the Camino by bike that does not have, or does not use, a bell to alert walkers of their presence. In reality this probably means most bikers.

Anybody doing the Camino on a bicycle with one of those electric motor assisted pedal systems whether they have a bell or not. There are quite a few and it’s just 'not cricket'.

People in albergues whose alarms go off at 5.30am and which then go off again while they are in the bathroom because they only put them on snooze. In fact, let’s just go for everybody who sets their alarms for 5.30am.....

A whole range of 'walking pole offences' including: having them stowed in your rucksack tips up, at dangerous angles and eye height; and walking along not using them but trailing them horizontally behind you while waving them around and banging fellow walkers.

The woman who shared a room with a guy Gale met: there were just the two of them in an albergue bunk room and in the middle of the night the woman turned on the room light 'for twenty minutes as punishment for snoring'.

Anybody who plays their music aloud while walking, failing to appreciate that others do not necessarily want to share it. In fact, anybody who thinks that listening to the music they can listen to back home while walking rather than the experience the birdsong or wind or other sounds of nature should be tried on a case by case basis....

People in albergues who think that because they are up and about at 6am everybody else wants to be and turn the room lights on....

....which are probably the same people who do not have a volume control on their voices early morning or late at night.

Coach drivers who run the Sarria groups around, just because....

And maybe anybody who has walked from Sarria to Santiago and seriously thinks they have done a Camino.

I guess if I hadn’t done the Camino, been touched by it and learned to better appreciate my fellow man, the list would be longer......

Day 34 - Pedrouzo to Santiago de Compostela (18km)

Today we arrived at Santiago de Compostella! We made a relatively early start, although not quite as early as we had hoped, and headed out into mist and a fine drizzle that stayed with us all day. The route on the map looked mainly suburban but for a large part we were on a path through woods, even as we skirted the fence of Compostela airport some ten kilometres from the city. Again we had the accompanying scent of eucalyptus and elderflower as water dripped on our heads and down our necks from the trees above. It wasn’t as bad as it might sound and we were buoyed up by the fact that it was a short day. The fact that it was also the last day (of this part of the walk at least) hadn’t really sunk in.

                     

We passed through a couple of tiny villages, stopped for coffee and pressed on. It wasn’t until we descended through parkland and came to the Santiago ring road that we hit suburbia proper. After that it was an hour of walking through the city, firstly square and utilitarian and modern but eventually through historic, narrow and winding streets with the towers of the cathedral visible ahead. A short walk past an old and impressive monastery and down some old stone steps and we were in the main cathedral square after one month and 500 miles of walking.

Was it emotional having arrived? I think for me the emotion was somewhat dampened by the rain and the desire to find shelter rather than enjoy the moment. I also don’t yet feel that my walk is over; tomorrow I am heading off to Finisterre which is another three days walking after which I will return to spend time here in Santiago. But for now it is time to relax with a beer, collect our 'Compostelas' and enjoy a nice meal in our hotel and let the reality of this achievement sink in.

             

Walking Through History

As I walked through the medieval gate and over the river to leave Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port at the start of the Camino I wondered how many millions had set out on this same journey over the preceding thousand years and in whose footsteps I now followed. Yet despite the scale of time that separates me from them - whether recent or ancient - this millennium’s worth of pilgrims will have walked under the same sky and the same sun and slept under the same stars as any modern pilgrim would. And as they travelled they would have seen the same landscapes: the flat plain of the Meseta, the verdant rolling hills of Galicia and, at the outset, those first blockading hilly peaks of the Pyrenees. The texture of the landscape may well have changed over that time with more varied and extensive agriculture - gnarled trunks of vines now growing where long ago there once may have been smaller plots of cereals or other food crops - and no doubt fewer woods stretch across the landscape now than did a thousand years ago. But despite those changes to texture, the shape of the landscape remains the same: cut by the same rivers, dotted with the same ancient habitations and shaped by the valleys and hills that have run through this terrain for centuries. It is a constancy that binds a thousand years of travellers together despite the centuries that divide us in time and temperament and culture.

And in the space of those years the nature of the pilgrim too has changed and yet there remains a constancy over the character of pilgrimage.  Today people set out on the Camino for a variety of reasons, some religious or in some other way spiritual but many for personal reasons. Few if any do it from the deep religious commitment of a medieval pilgrim hoping to absolve their sins or cure themselves of illness.  And certainly nobody today would pay for someone else to carry out the Camino on their behalf in the hope of achieving the same, a practice of the wealthy in medieval times.  And yet despite changes in the motivations of the individual the underlying nature of the pilgrimage they make remains the same. It is not the destination itself that is of importance - although it is unquestionably the drive behind the journey being undertaken - it is that journey that has real meaning.  That idea is captured in the word itself: ‘pilgrimage’ does not conjure in the mind a place but rather it implies travelling, albeit to a destination of importance, but travelling nonetheless.  And it is the impact of that journey on those that undertake it that brings out the real value to its participants.  Then as now individuals face adversities, spending their time in relative hardship and living a more simple life during their travels while placing themselves in the hands of fate and strangers to deal with challenges and the unfamiliar. They are shaped as their faith in others and in fortune is rewarded, moulding them and leaving its mark; at the end of the journey the physical effects of their travels may become faded memories but the emotional impact of that journey casts a much longer shadow. 

During the course of my walk I mostly met people for whom this was the first – and probably only – Camino. But I also met many who had undertaken the route before and who, for them, it was clearly an experience that warranted repeating.  It was evident that their desire to repeat the trip was driven more by experiences that flowed from companionship and friendship with other travellers rather than any physical challenge. But whether done once or often, all those who have spent a relatively short span of their time on this earth walking a Camino will carry long-standing memories from that experience and the landscape through which they passed, a landscape that holds a thousand years of memories of those many, many travellers.

Made it! (more to follow....)

Lookalikes....

Modern day pilgrim

Medieval pilgrim

Day 33 - Castañada to Pedrouzo (26km)

Today has been a slow day, walking mostly in woodland and mostly in the rain. For some reason we all felt weary and the day seemed to drag. It was not helped I guess by our late start, by the weather and by the extended stops for breakfast and snacks in towns and villages along the way, welcome respite from the rain that was with us most of the day but significantly delaying our arrival at our destination. On the plus side, the weather seemed to bring out the smells of the surroundings, mostly that of eucalyptus and elderflower, and our late start from Castañada - which lies three kilometres before where most people overnight - meant the main crowds were ahead of us and the number of people was more what we were used to.

At one of my coffee stops I bumped into a couple from Bristol who like me had started from St Jean. Interestingly one of the first things they asked me, and without any previous comment on my part, was whether I thought the Camino felt different, going on to express similar views to mine; it would appear that the changes I sense are real not just some personal perception.

I guess it’s a beer garden...

We are now in Pedrouzo, the last stop before Santiago. It’s full of accommodation and restaurants; like all the main stopping points since Sarria it has expanded to meet the demands of the increased number of walkers. Other than that it doesn’t seem to have much to offer, but as it was once again raining when we left our hostel and headed to dinner, I did not feel inclined to explore. Tomorrow is a short day of 18 kilometres but I’m expecting it to be busy as everybody converges on the final destination so we plan to leave at 7am. It hasn’t sunk in yet that it will be the final leg of this journey, partially I guess because I still intend to walk on to Finisterre on the coast and partially because I intend to be back in Santiago when Rob and Greg arrive in a few days time. Maybe it will sink in when I am standing in the cathedral square.

Day 32 - Palas de Reí to Castaneda (23km)

Today I have been walking for a month.

We set off at 8.30am this morning in the rain after we had all met for coffee in a small bar near the hotel. It was nice to get a lie in this morning after the last few days and it was also nice to have some clean clothes to wear; Robin had kindly got some of mine and Gale's laundered at her albergue last night.

Although we followed the occasional road it was a largely pleasant walk through the countryside: oak and eucalyptus woods, pasture and small villages. We arrived at the relatively large town of Melide where we had lunch in a 'pulperia' or octopus restaurant before pressing on to our destination today,

Castaneda. The guidebook suggested the town of Ribadiso three kilometres further on but with the numbers of people on the route and the seemingly small size of the town we thought we would stop earlier. Of the two places in this tiny hamlet the first albergue had only one bed (we were after seven) but the Camino definitely provided in the second: we have a seven bed house all to ourselves with kitchen and lounge and two bathrooms all for less than €20 a head. We went back to the albergue for dinner - it is the only place to eat here - where our €10 pilgrim menu provided a substantial three course meal plus three bottles of wine and after-dinner liquors.

Despite the pleasant walk we are all having trouble coming to terms with the numbers now on the route. Some of the stories I hear are in the spirit of the Camino: yesterday I spoke to an older Irish women who had got a group together and arranged the trip as a retirement present for their parish priest. But generally things seem different now: groups with corporate-like identity cards hanging round their necks, their lanyards woven with business-like tag-lines ('Be bold: be Catholic') to me identify more with each other than the Camino and everybody on it. Then there are the group coaches and taxis on standby, there it seems to help the flagging pilgrim move ahead, to get their 'stamps' and to make it to Santiago for their ‘Compostella'. I wrote previously about the enjoyment of the journey and not the destination but here and now, with all these people, the reverse seems to be true. And the impression of things having changed isn’t helped by the number of Camino trinket and souvenir stalls and shops you see, something thankfully lacking in the last month of walking. It all seems more exploitative somehow and even the 'Buen Caminos', as I said yesterday, seem less heartfelt and meaningful. As Gale put it as we chatted over the matter: 'I almost feel like I’m back in the real world'.

I try not to be judgemental - each to themselves their own Camino - but it’s not an unusual feeling it seems. Friends who have done the complete walk have mentioned it and graffiti such as ‘Jesus did not walk from Sarria' (although I’m pretty sure from what I learned at Sunday School he didn’t do any of the Camino!) underline the less private view of some. And what surprises me in part is that it is even important to me. Why do I feel as if these people have intruded on my own private experience and those of my friends? And why should I care anyway? Maybe the Camino has affected me more than I realise....

Galicia

Since we made the steep climb to O'Cebreiro we have been in Galicia. Bordered by Spain and Portugal and with the capital at Santiago de Compostela the region has an economy focused on fishing and agriculture, which is clear from the numbers of cows and tractors we have had to dodge in the tiny villages we walk through as well as the ever present smell of livestock farming.

According to the Codex it is:

'....well-wooded, with rivers, meadows, and orchards, and the deepest clearest springs, but with few towns, farmsteads or wheat fields.' and '...'..the Galicians are more like.. French people than other Spanish savages, but nevertheless they can be hot-tempered and litigious.'

It seems to sum up the landscape although from what I have seen the locals are friendly enough. However, I am told that, because Galicia was never subdued by the Moors, you can offend a Galician by incorrectly stating that the region fell under Islamic rule.

With over 1000 miles of coastline, fish and shellfish are important to the Galician cuisine with octopus being popular. We tried some in a 'pulperia' or octopus restaurant yesterday: traditionally cooked in a copper pot and served on a wooden plate, cut into small pieces and laced with olive oil, sea salt and Spanish paprika. Delicious!

Day 31 - Ferreios to Palas de Rei (34km)

Today we caught up with the others.

We left in mist at the usual time and made fairly good progress through wood and lane for nine kilometres to Portomarin - a small town on a hill and sat by a lake - with the aim of catching the girls as they set out. But we were later than we had hoped and they left earlier than usual meaning we missed them by ten minutes, so we set off out of town to catch them. It was great to see them all again and to meet Robin's husband and grandson and after briefly sharing stories we set off in good weather for a relaxed walk through landscapes similar to yesterday. For Gale and I it was nice to not be trying to push on as far as possible and we relaxed into the day enjoying the lengthy breaks that we could now make.

Portomarin

The most noticeable thing about today is the number of people that have now joined the Camino. I knew there would be more but did not expect what I have seen; there is a whole tsunami of freshly laundered pilgrims on the route now. In the short time that Gale and I sat on the path outside Portomarin, group after group walked past, groups of twenty to thirty all smelling of soap and washing powder. It made us wonder what we must smell like after our six days of extended walking. The crowds are more noisy, the cafes are heaving - and larger to meet the demand - and despite the numbers the 'buen Caminos' seem less frequent and less heartfelt, both from walkers and from locals. And there also seems to be a different attitude now that I can not quite place; maybe I simply can not relate to the numbers compared to the previous four weeks. Oh, and neither can I relate to the coaches that seem to plough between the various cafes - clearly linked to the groups somehow - or the taxis that pass you along the way taking struggling walkers forward.

Because of the numbers of people we initially thought it prudent to phone ahead and book a hostel during the course of the day. However, the one we chose was full so we opted to 'let the Camino decide' once we got to Palas de Reí. However, by the time we arrived and had snacked and drank in a bar, the idea of searching the town for accommodation just didn’t seem to resonate and so we have ended up in a hotel next to the bar. The fact that I am paying the same for one night as I might for a week in a municipal albergue seems irrelevant and a worthwhile reward for the last few days.

Robin and her family had an albergue slightly out of town so caught a taxi there, agreeing to meet us in the morning, so Gale, Janna, Myra and I found a small restaurant for dinner. Sadly they had run out of octopus but I had a great meal nevertheless and I headed off to bed knowing that I wouldn’t have a 6.30 start in the morning....

Day 30 - Fonfria to Ferreiros (42km)

I am lying in the darkness on my top bunk in the small municipal albergue of Ferreiros after one of those days where things have dragged on a lot longer than planned, you wonder about the where and when of the day's end and you are thankful for actually having found a place to spend the night. We started at 6.30am, heading out into drizzle but with the forecast promising that the rain would lift by

mid-morning. Mid-morning came and went and it was raining more solidly than ever and clearly settled in for quite a while, although by this time we had already enjoyed views from high in the hills of cloud filled valleys before the weather deteriorated and before we dropped down to breakfast in the small town of Triacastela. After breakfast we set off again, accompanying walkers who were beginning their day from here, and started a long and hard climb through woodland in the persistent rain, made more bearable by the fact that sections were on a narrow tarmac lane.


                 

I pressed ahead at my own pace, having agreed to meet Gale three miles down the route, and pushed on past a number of other walkers as I worked to keep warm and reach the dry of our cafe meeting point as soon as I could. The route then turned off the tarmac road and up into the woodland, signed on the tarmac by the Camino's yellow painted arrows and agreeing with my guide book. But after seeing nobody for what seemed an eternity, knowing I would have travelled further than the guide suggested, and feeling in the middle of nowhere, I began to doubt my route. However, I eventually dropped into a village of a few tired stone houses and at the entrance of the open courtyard of a hippy style cafe: chairs and sofas, guitar music and painted 'fridge magnet philosophy' signs plus drinks and snacks available on a donation basis all included.  As I sat in the courtyard in a threadbare chair enjoying coffee and watching the rain more walkers soon arrived, most of whom I had passed a long while back. It soon became clear that despite the signs and my guidebook I had taken a much longer alternative route; it was not the first time that day the guidebook would let us down.

Hippy Cafe

Before long Gale arrived and after a rest we headed out into country lanes again. Our aim today was to get beyond Sarria, where the girls had trained it to yesterday and set out from this morning. It seemed a soulless town but once through it we hit some very English countryside: small rivers and pastures with oak woodland and grass verged lanes, the scent of elderflower hanging in the air. The sun was shining and the path was flat so although we were experiencing late afternoon tiredness we enjoyed an easy and pleasant walk. Eventually though it was time to call it a day and we decided to try the albergue marked on the map about a kilometre further on. We walked for some considerable time, the route only roughly corresponding to the guidebook although problems here were not uncommon: we had already found that some main features were not marked; that the diagrams on the route's steepness for the day often bore no resemblance to the reality; and on the map you could see that the visual representation of some of the marked distances were longer than other marked distances twice as long. In general the maps were only representative. But never until now had we found an albergue marked on the map that didn’t exist. After some time, and knowing we had walked a lot further but unable to pinpoint our exact location, I asked the first person we had seen where we were. After two minutes of her trying to get me interested in buying a walking staff or a pilgrim’s water gourd (I wasn’t), although if she had a couple of beds I was interested (she didn’t), she eventually told me we were in the tiny hamlet of A Brea. Despite following the Camino we had crossed streams not on the map, supposedly ascended a steep hill to get here (which we hadn't) and made no end of turnings that the map didn’t show. But the good news was we were much further on than we had hoped and near a small village with accommodation. It still took half an hour and three attempts to find a place with beds in the handful of buildings we encountered but eventually, twelve hours after we set out this morning, the Camino provided. And the good news is that the local bar was just up the road (where we enjoyed a well deserved drink and meal) and that we are now well placed to catch the girls tomorrow.