My Walk on the pilgrims route to Santiago de Compostela

To St-Guilhem-le-Desert

A portion of the way, I have walked on an old railroad track.  I had a rest with music at Aniane. At the devil bridge, it goes into the valley of the Herault.  In St-Guilhem-le-le-Desert,I was sent directly to Chi Chi at the place opposite the abbey, since the hotels were not yet opened.  At 18ºº o'clock they had the service in the abbey with mixed team monks and sister.  The prettiest did the deepest bows.

To Lodève

Many ascents, however a wonderful hike.  On the way in the middle of the desert, a motorist stopped and said «this way leads to nowhere».  Great disappointment in Lodève: all hotels are closed, also the "Hotel Croix Blanche", to which I have particularly looked forward, since once we had well eaten lunch here with friends.   Again three km along the expressway to the motel near Poujols.  That meant the same route back on the next morning to hike farther on the GR 653.

To Lunas

First I visited the cathedral in Lodève and then I walked on country roads over a pass until Lunas.  The next small village is St. Martin, marked on the old pilgrim map.  This map I have always used, to check whether I hiked on the old way.  The church on the mountain is closed because of dilapidation.  I stood about 16ºº in front of a closed hotel door in Bousquet and the host of an adjacent cafe was not sure whether it opened in the evening.  I decided to go three km back, to sleep in a hotel at Lunas.

To St-Gervais

The most beautiful weather.  The GR 653 leads over the mountains and that means a long ascent.  I hardly believe that the pilgrims have climbed into the mountains, if one could use a way in the valley.  I have decided differently and have hiked on small streets with moderate passes.  In St-Gervais no action, even the baker oversleeps the opening hour.  With several other, we waited before the bakery.  Without fresh bread, I looked  two km farther for a campsite in the chestnut-forest.

To Muret-sur-Vèbre

Exhausting, however beautiful tour over the mountains.  At the way forks are standing St. James-crosses from irons, recognizably by a shell.  An agreeable hotel was easily found.

To La-Salvetat-sur-Agout

In this hilly region, no bigger uprisings were to be overcome.  I saw a shitting old peasant at a farm nearby the way.  An empty storage-lake made an ugly impression in the beautiful forest with many bloomed flowers.  Today on the whole way I had a pain in my knees.  In front of La-Salvetat-sur-Agout, a romanesque chapel stood in a graveyard, but not to be visited.  In the hotel Pergola, I found my night-camp.  From here I called my daughter Gesa.

To Rialet

All interesting chapels were closed.  After a long lonesome route, I finally arrived at Rialet.  A hotel sign in the village gave me hope.  This hotel however was still in hibernation.  One bit farther I put up my tent at the forest edge with a look on a meadow with sheeps

To Castres

All dates on travelling-boards I could not managed.  3,5 hours to Castres became five hours by me with a rest in Noailhac.  In a bistro at Castres I have eaten much but good and I slept in the * * * stars hotel "Europe".

To Puylaurens

After Castre the footpath GR 653 goes southward in a bow through the "Montagne Noir".  I decided to hike the direct way of St. James to Toulouse, via the towns as recorded in my old map.  On the search for a hotel in Puylaurens, a man climbed out of a car and led me to one huge parsonage.  Through the opened door I saw a large Mary statue in the stairwell.  I refused respectfully.  After my useless search at the place for a roost it starting slowly to rain, I came back and I asked for reception.  After a query with the parish woman it was granted.  A good breakfast alone in the great dining room allowed me to forget the night in a dirty room.

To Caraman

I walked for a long time in the plane and then up the hill to reach the castle from Aguts, through the garden of the castle and farther on a mountain range.
All questioning, also at the secretariat of the mayor, to find a night camp was useless.  Therefore I hiked still  two km farther from Caraman.  In a small grove, I put up my tent for the night.  In the morning, I continued to Toulouse, my first greater stage goal.  There, I planned to take a rest day, after the first 460 km of my hike.

To Toulouse

Without a morning coffee, I must start and even then far and wide no possibility to got one, belongs to the hardship of such an excursion.  Only in a suburb of Toulouse I enjoyed the first cafe cream.  I spent a long time in the cathedral St-Sernin.  The baroque altar disturbs me.  My accommodation was the affordable hotel "Riquet", after the builder of the "Canal du Midi" in the proximity of the railway station, the hooker's area.  The second day, I strolled through Toulouse with a visit of the museum of Augustin and in the evening I watched a film: gay Jew loves Jewess.

To L'isle-Jourdain

Leaving Toulouse and find the right way was been associated with questions and looking around.  Beautiful day in Pibrac, a place of pilgrimage.  A short cut was not found so easy.  A friendly cyclist, who did not know, whether there was a hotel at the stage-goal, inclined me two km before L'isle-Jourdain, to crawl into my tent, after this long trip.  It rained during the night.

To Aubiet

Two km farther, behind L'isle-Jourdain, a beautiful hotel is situated at a lake.  Today, I passed the place, after a short sightseeing of the city L'isle-Jourdain.  At the pretty Gimont all the hotels were occupied.  At the first one the female manager at the reception let me feel, that I was not welcome.  Gimont was the only place, at which the police asked for an identification.  Not very friendly city, therefore it went farther.  At Aubiet, the hotel is closed on Saturday and Sunday.  Once again I hiked another two km, then a grove invited me to put my tent up.

To Auch

On the way it started to rain and worst, I am not finding my rain jacket in the backpack.  In Montégut, I sat dry on a bank at a table under a roof.  A friendly couple took me by car to Auch four km away and put me in front of a hotel.  I dried my clothes and decided to make another break to buy me on Monday a new rain-coat.  At the meal, the landlady of the "Hotel de Paris " got me a St. James shell from the kitchen, for which I had looked vainly in Toulouse on the market.  Since she already drilled me a hole into the shell, attaching at the backpack was simple.  On the next day, I visited the old part of town with the cathedral and explored the way for the following day.

To Montesquiou

Modest weather.  But one already saw the chain of the Pyrenees in the west.  A very impressive sight.  At the entrance of Montesquiou I heard circus music from far.  The "Cirque de Paris" gave a matinee.  Two dromedaries grazed.  A clown descended a slope and first asked me about the time and then whether I needed a job here at the circus.  I refused by thanking.  Later, often I thought back at this encounter and whether it would not have some attraction to be a few days at a circus.
The secretary of the mayor sent me to a "Chambre d'Hôte", however there no one opened.  It rained and I stood under the roof and waited.  All at once the opposite lived neighbor woman came and invited me for a cup of tea and to stay.  After a supper with all the family member, I slept well in a cosy room.

To Moubouguet

I came through many small villages, which are mentioned on the "Carte des CHEMINS de S.JACQUES de COMPOSTELLE" of 1648, like: Poulebon, Montezum and Sauveterre.  I always pulled this map for advice, to take preferably the original way.  On the plane before Moubouguet, a strong wind blew me into the face.  I counted the telephone masts at the way until Moubouguet.  At the start there was 26, it became slowly always one fewer until I had made it.

To Morlaas

Pouring rain during the second half of this day.  Under the surviving roof of a modern mayor office in a small village, I found a dry place.  Luckily there was a friendly hotel in Morlaas.  I viewed the romanesque wall painting in the church of St. Foy

To Pau

I hiked a small stage and waited for better weather for the Pyrenees.  In Pau I have completed my outfit with a pair of gloves and gathered some piece of information of the Pyrenees at the tourist office.  Of these Pyrenees I had some respect.  I was told later in Spain of an Englishman, he tried the way during this time from St. Jean-de-Port, although he was strongly advised against because of the snow.  After a day and a night, he came back to the origin, totally exhausts and without equipment.

To Lescar

Today, I hiked only to the small village Lescar, not far from Pau.  In the morning I plodded through Pau.  In the hotel at Lescar, I found friendly host people.  In the afternoon, I visited the small place with its old cloister church.  From the host woman, I learned the first horror story of the Camino of an old Dutch woman, she needed eight months until Lescar, and she caught a cold and spread a cloud of penicillin from swallows so many penicillins.  The host woman did not want to let me go on the next day because of strong rain.  She questions, that one ever gets at this weather to Santiago de Compostela and asks me to write a post card, if I could make it.

To Oloron St-Marie

At pouring rain, I am also starting in direction of the Pyrenees .  The landlady put a sack with fruit and chocolate into my luggage. Unfortunately, the weather did not become better the whole day.  On the way, I have covered myself under a woodshed.  A friendly man brought me a bowl with soup from the house.  In the hotel of Oloron St-Marie, I hung up all my clothes for drying.  The city itself has not pleased me, maybe it was because of the weather.

To Lurbe St-Christau

Now, it's became seriously. The Pyrenees moved closer and the weather remained bad.  On short distances, the rain stuff held tight.  I took lodging at Saint Christau into the first best hotel "Au Bon Coin".  Not recommended, the old landlady is severe on the money.  A better place, the nice family hotel "Des Vallées", would have been one kilometre farther, in which I heated up myself at a cafe cream.

To Bedous

There was a beautiful way parallel to the N134 through the Vallée d'Aspe.  In Sarrance I visited an interesting church.  Since I was not certain to find an inn,  this time I did not start on good luck.  I made a reservation by telephone in the "Gite Choucas blanc" in Bedous.  In this quiet home with youth hotel - atmosphere directly on the N134 stopped several families.

To Urdos

Different weather on this way.  I visited the churches of Accous and Borce.  In the hotel at Urdos near the customs inspection, I have eaten supper in the evening and have slept very well.  Tomorrow, I started the attack on the Col-du-Somport with a height of the pass of 1632m and then adieu France.

To Canfranc-Estación

T o reach the Col-du-Somport I walked on the big street N134.  Some trucks past me in a rush.  I was not disturbed.  On a parking place, I believed to have seen bears track.  At the Col a sharp wind blew and it snowed.  Yet 845 km to Santiago was written on a sign.  From a distance, I saw ski hikers.  A short stay and then it went through the wild snow-drift uphill to Spain.  Before the barracks of Riosetta, a guard greeted me.  In Canfranc-Estación, I visited the gigantic railway station, but the inside was decayed.  I felt a slightly colds coming up.

To Jaca

The weather remained badly and it snowed.  It was much water on the ways.  A rapid mountain stream, that one could cross by jumping from stone to stone, let inverted me, since two stones were missing in the middle.  Arriving to Jaca, I saw a terrain fenced in at a mountain back, guarded by high watch towers.  Here, the policemen lived with their families.  Honneker would have had his joy.  Half-time and the Pyrenees were surmounted.  From the mountains I had carried a cold.  A pause of one day was due, filled with a visit of the cathedral, an excursion to the impressing old stone bridge and writing of postcards to all family members.

To Santa Cruz de la Serós

On this day I made a detour in the mountain uphill to the monastery "San Juan de la Pena".  Suddenly in front of me it was pasted on the mountain.  Unfortunately it was closed in the early afternoon.  Farther uphill for Santa Cruz de la Seros, where I found a simple hotel.  Here, there was a beautiful roman church.  The attempt, to view the church failed, since nobody unlocked the door.   A friendly motorist brought me back to the monastery.  Again the same descent to the hotel, in which I have eaten supper with a group of "Münchener".

To Berdun

First through the mountains and then somewhat boring on a detour to Berdun, in order to avoid the country road.  Berdun lies on a hill with a beautiful outlook in all direction, if one goes around the small town.  From my room, I had a look on the church, as in Santa Cruz de la Seros.

To Yesa

Again I accomplished a good stage.  First I marched on the footpath GR 653, to continue the medieval route, then I left this path on half way.  Unfortunately this is the RN240, along the Yesa storage lake.  Underway at Mianos an old man has invited me in his house for a coffee.  He wanted to stamp my pilgrim book and was disappointed, that I possessed none.  Also the landlord in Berdun was wild on stamping and was only satisfied after he could stamp the bill.  Only later in Leon, I got pilgrim book issued, otherwise I would not have been allowed to sleep in the cloister there.  The nearer one gets to Santiago, stamping gets more and more important.  Two abandoned and dilapidated villages, Esco and Tiermas are situated aside the way and are marked on my pilgrim card.  No sign on the way points to these places.  For Tiermas leads no way, romantically placed on a hill next to the reservoir.  I had left the province of Aragon and hiked farther in the province Navarra.

To Monreal

In the morning I went along on the country road up to the top of the pass, the "Puerto de Loyti" and then on a track until Monreal, the recommended way GR 653.  Underway, from the street, I saw the half collapsed bridge over the Irati of the old pilgrim way, the devil bridge.

To Puente la Reina

The first part of the way was demanding.  It always went up and down around the mountain "Higa de Monreal".  On the wayside, there were many flowers and as rare as lady's slipper.  From the distance I saw Pamplona. I was glad, that I had not to hike through the extensive suburbs of Pamplona.
Eunate, the impressive romanesque church is standing in middle of the field.  I waited with a bus group, until the entrance was opened.  At the entrance of Puenta la Reina I found a beautiful hotel.  In the evening I met the first pilgrims on my hike in the town.  During the next weeks I got them to know better.  I noticed particularly a man, disguises fashionably as pilgrim with a silvery St. James Shell.  As it turned out later, he came from Paris and has already done the tour every once in a while.  A great hiker.

To Estella

Now, I am on the Camino de Santiago.  Over the queen bridge from Puenta la Reina and the mountain up.  A beautiful way over old bridges, used already by the old Romans.  One is no longer alone on the way.  Here, I noticed for the first time, that many women are on the route.  It is still early in the afternoon as I arrived in Estella and I decided to continue.  I only came up the hill and here I saw these gigantic hotel near Irache, that attracted me and did not let me go past.

To Viana

This stage took all my strengths.  In the summer it would be tough to go at scorching sun, but a varied scenery indeed.  I saw no pilgrims any more on the way.  To be ahead after Estella was probably the cause.  In Los Arcos I talked with a well English speaking innkeeper.  A joker of taxi owner has installed a sign on the way: Taxi: Tel 505050.  But no temptation for me.  The search of a night camp in Viana worked out to be complicated.  All hotel "complete", after all there were not so many.  The pilgrim inn was closed.  After long waiting, somebody gave me the advice to go at a place nearby and lookout after a man with a red beret.  The man is quickly found, but it lasted awhile until he brought me to the inn and unlocked the door.  He insisted, that I was at 22ºº o'clock in the inn, then he must lock the door.  He recommended a simple public eating house, in which I ate an excellent "Lomo".  I was alone in the big pilgrim inn.  As I laid in bed, my man came and was happy to see me, he shacked hand and wished me a good night.

To Logrõno

The day began with grey heaven and in Logrõno it started strongly to rain.  Before Logrõno, mother Felisa has placed a table near the way.  Her granddaughter(?) took me by the hand and leads me to the table, so that grandmother can stamp the pilgrim passport.  Since I still do not possess one, I hold out to her my diary.  It is an oval stamp.  In the boundary it says: CAMINO DE SANTIGO - LOGRONO -.  In the middle it reads: FELISA, under it: HIGOS - AGUA Y AMOR and then in a row the St. James shell, a fig leaf, a jug and a cross that reminds on a dagger.  I waited in Logrõno in a pub until the rain stops.  Many fellow pilgrims in rainwear arrived and looked for the pilgrim home.  I disappeared into a small hotel in a side street, since the weather was not improving.

To Najera

In the morning in Logrõno, I first looked for the Santiago church and from there leads the way out of the city, around a reservoir under a highway, to Navarrete (rest in a cafe) and finally to Najera.  The weather was unsteady. On the way, I have passed some pilgrim groups: two French women, (one old), two Austrians, maybe father and daughter, and a big French group before Najera.  A long emotional poem in German is painted on a wall, over the sense and the efforts of a pilgrimage.  Since it rained I have not copied it.  Today, I regret it.

To Santo Domingo de la Calzeda

First four km on the country road N120.  As it turned out the wrong way.  Then I moved to the left on good luck and at the next village, I recovered that yellow arrows, the right way, a reassuring feeling.  The ways were soaked and particularly if one uses byways, it can be very muddy.  An old man alerts me to a Panneria in this village.  On the way, the great walker (the hiker from Paris) passes me with two female companions.  At the search for a hotel in Santo Domingo, two Dutch women recommend the pilgrim home, the best that I have slept  in.  In the evening, we met all in the cathedral with the chickens (history of the miracles of chickens [10] and other facts of the St. James way).  One of the companion of the great walker was a German singer. She sang some songs in the cathedral.  Afterwards we had all dinner in a pub beside the cathedral.
Before the Paradore, I believed to have recognized Mr. Kübler of the Dornier company.
During the night I heard a lot of loud snoring and in the morning the first left at five o'clock singing loudly.  Unfortunately, I was no an early riser.  Before I march off, important for me is a coffee and a breakfast and I have attached much value to it to receive something somewhere.  Unfortunately most of the coffee shops open only at nine o'clock, so that early rising is pointless.

To Villafranca

By the end of this day, I have got quit a bit farther on the way to Santiago.  At the start, a stiff breeze blew, that the cyclists I met in a pub at the road, did not made much more progress, like us foot hikers.  The normal stage goal of Belorado has not tempted me to stay, so I am continued again another 11 km, unfortunately at bad weather and much rain.  Luckily in Villafranca was a simple hotel for truck drivers.  Tomorrow, I have the chance, to reach Burgos.

To Burgos

I was still capable to increases my performance.  In retrospect, this was the most difficult stage on the excursion.  In the end, I am hobbled along with pain on the forever lasting entrance road to Burgos, until I found a hotel.  At Villafranca I walked uphill to the Oca wood, first with rain and then it snowed.  Here on 1100m heights, the way was a mud path only. At the worst locations I had to avoid the way and stepped into the undergrowth.  In San Juan de Ortega I drank a tea with a pleasant Norwegian.  He wanted to go to Burgos, but he preferred at this weather to stay in the inn, because he did not feel healthy.  He was the Norwegian emissary of a conference of the Santiago pilgrims.  From the warden, I received the key for the imposing romanesque monastery church.  Before Burgos, I landed up on a bad way once again and five m before the route was asphaltic, I had lost the balance and felt in the mud.  With grass I cleaned off the worst of the dirt.

To Hornillos

After the marathon from yesterday I had no big ambition.  The visit of the cathedral at Burgos is of course an obligation even when the church was surrounded with frameworks.  A church service took place behind fences, under exclusion of the community.  When leaving the cathedral, I met the great walker with a friend.  The female singer flew back from Burgos to the states, he told me.  At the "Monasterio de las Huelgas" I looked for the yellow marking of the "Camino".   Luckily the sun came out and dried the way.  With me marched two Spanish couple using the first of May to do a stage of the St. James way.  Since they were not yet trained, I have lost them and they have also not arrived in Hornillos either.  Here, there was only one pilgrim inn where everyone had to arrive.  A young English couple with a little child, they carried on the back, got everybody's attention.  A common dinner was organized.  The ingredients had to be got from the neighbor-place.  The Swiss spaghetti cook received recognition, unfortunately the result was tasteless.  In the evening, I had a long talked with a Dutchman, a publisher.  He looked for creative impulses on the St. James way.

To Castrogeriz

I not felt well.  I believed the lamb roast has done the evil.  The meal, I ate yesterday in Burgos, I found disgusting.  Anyhow from Burgos I had bad memories.  Years ago I did a North Spain tour with my wife.  In Burgos, in front of the hotel, our car was stolen.  For that reason we ended our journey and drove back.
I dragged farther on the way.  My fellow pilgrims are very concerned about me.  On half route, in the desert Meseta was a small pilgrims inn.  I received coffee and cookies from friendly teenagers.  I did now better again.  Before Castogeriz, I sat at the portal of a half tumbledown convent and greet the passing pilgrims.  In the half dilapidated Castrogeriz, I found a good hotel and decide to stop on the next day, a Sunday.  A day off without rucksack on the back was a recuperation.  I climbed to the Castillo, a castle of the Templar, that I saw already yesterday from far on a mountain.  Marvellous outlook on the surrounding Meseta.  Before, I visited a church and participate on a service in one of the three churches of Catrogeriz.

To Fromista

I continued through the Meseta.  Already near Formista lies the little village Boadilla del Camino.  In front of the church, I noticed a late Gothic column, in this somewhat decrepit village with many clays constructions.  Before Fromista, I visited an old sluice installation of the channel de Castillo.  An Englishwoman comes towards me for an inquiry.   She was concerned about her alone walking husband.  Unfortunately I have not met an Englishman nor the other pilgrims on the way.  My pause of regeneration put me to the taillights of the pilgrims caravan.  I dwelled long in San Martin of Fromista, a restored Romanesque church, over which is written so much of.  From my hotel window I had a good outlook on San Martin.  I felt new strengths after a good supper with one bottle simple Spanish wine.

To Calzadilla de la Cueza

First, for many kilometres the way went parallel to the country road until Carrions de los Condes.  Approaching the village Villalcazar de Sirga one sees the mighty and clumsy Romanesque church Santa Maria la Blanca.  I marched through the village and visited this monster, a defense-castle of God.  In the cafe opposite to the church, appeared a German coach party, while I drank my coffee.  In Carrion de la Condes the churches are closed over midday.  An unfriendly manner, to interact with the pilgrims.  Here, I did a rest in an immense pub, however almost empty.  Farther, I marched on a dead straight rugged stone route, which happened to me infinitely long up to a kind of hotel like a youth inn.  Here in the small village Calzadilla de la Cueza a private initiative has created a good lodging and they work next door on a new building, that will accepts the pilgrims at summertime.  On the village street I met the older Swiss couple from Geneva.  They regretted, that the group of Hornillos was no longer together.

To Calzadilla de los Hermanillos

My travelling performance was good.  I was well pleased.  The way was much more varied than yesterday. Sahagun has not satisfied me. First I am complimented out from the church, it was 12ºº o'clock.  Then in the bistro at the market place, that was recommended to me from an English couple, it was too late for lunch.  They cleaned it already.  When I marched in Calzadilla de los Hermanillos, I became alerted for the pilgrims inn by two  women sitting on the street.  A Belgian group with accompany vehicles occupied the inn totally. There was a simple pub at the place, but no restaurant and I found the small shop too late.  The supper was therefore very frugal.

To Leon

On the beginning it was a 21 km endless walk through fields to Mansilla de las Mulas.  After lunch still another 19 km along a busy street to Leon.  I went slowly down the mountain to Leon.  Here I asked about a hotel and I was escorted by a helpful man to a convent.  An energetic nun issues me a Pilgrim-pass.  Without a passport entrance will be not admitted.  With a young pilgrim, by a glass beer I had discussed plans for future hikes.  My suggestion was the Spain-way from Sevilla to Santiago and he would like to go to the mountain Athos.
On the next day, I moved into a small hotel and visit the cathedral and the museums of Leon.  San Isidor has impressed me the most, with the Romanesque wall-painting.  The ugly forecourt is a disgrace for the famous facade of San Marcos.

To Hospital del Orbigo

This stage was less attractive and here particularly the road, to get out of Leon.  But one gets a compensation on the end by marching over the long medieval bridge (18 bows) of the Rio Orbigo.  From my hotel window in Hospital del Orbigo I had a beautiful look on this bridge.

To Rabanal del Camino

The way led through a beautiful landscape.  In Astorga, I sat in the cathedral and had a rest.  An old man took my pilgrim passport and got me a stamp.  In the afternoon it went slowly uphill until Rabanal del Camino.  In the inn there, I found a bed.  I had the supper together with the hikers from the pilgrim hostel.

To Ponferrada

From Rabanal, I hiked at hazy weather uphill until Foncebadón.  At the Cruz de Ferro I putted my small stone, I brought from Collorgues.  On this place laid some very big stones like rubble.  I thought, it was impossibly, that these stones are brought by pilgrims.
As I passed Manjarin, the host of a simple inn rings the bell, when he saw me. At "José" in El Acebo a good lunch is served.  Until Molinaseca it went downhill through blooming valleys.  It is not far from here to Ponferrade on the main street.  Before Ponferrada, an old man spoke to me, who had worked in Hanover in the slaughterhouse.  One recognizes a German already from far.  At the wonderful Templar castle in Ponferrada I past over the Rio Sil and marched into the hotel.

To La Partella

The way until Villafranca del Bierzo runs relatively flat.  On the way, I met a footsore German pilgrim, who hiked bravely.  In the local wine co-operative at Cacabelos, a glass of red wine was poured out gratuitously for pilgrims,  that we both called in.  Since it went too slowly onward, I separated from my companion.  In Villafranca del Bierzo the Santiago church is situated on the way of St. James.  At this place, I looked  for a pub for lunch.  With a big beer in the stomach, I climbed then slowly uphill, to avoid the used street through the valley.  At Trabaldo, a steep descent lead back into the valley.  As I walked on the street, it started strongly to rain and I was glad, as a truck driver hotel at the right side appeared.  My goal "Vega de Valcare" another three km I could not reached, because of the strong rain.

To Triacastela

A real ascent onto 1250 m I had to manage until I reached the village Cebreiro.
A long time ago a pilgrim followed the sound of a bagpipe and found the holy grail in the valley of the Valcare.  It is understandable that those fantastic stories are settled in this mountainous region.
It went farther, after a short rest, on a mountain range.  Two villages send their cows as reception committee.  I am now in Galicia.  Before Tricastela it went  downhill.  I saw  on the left side at the village entrance the pilgrim inn occupied from a youth group.  At the second hotel under rebuilt, they had a room for me.

To Portomarin

In the end, I reached my best performance.  On this tour I never hiked such a distance in a day.  This was the second day, that nothing hurts, even in the morning, after I started I had no pain.  Beautiful morning fog and everywhere flowed water.  A beautiful section of the St James route, just like one imagined Galicia.  To the evening, a heavy thunderstorm unloaded itself before Portomarin.  I placed myself under a canopy in a village, not only because of the rain but also be safe from the lightning's.  On the free fields I was impressed by it flashes and crashes.  A Spanish girl passes by courageously and named me "Little Red".  I have worn a red rain-coat.  In the center of Portomarin the church stands like impregnable fortress.  In the hotel, I found a nice party.  I noticed two older Englishmen particularly, they were going by bicycles.   As turned out on the next day, two faultless sportsmen, who managed the heaviest mountain stages ever after some consumption of alcohol.  They drove slowly but with constant speed.

To Melide

In the morning a great departure of many pilgrims, the women are in the majority. The sun was shining  and hiking seems easily, the ailment ability did not need to be increased.  Until Palas de Rei it went along on hardly used small asphalt streets.  Palas de Rei  did not impress me and I pulled farther. An English woman finishes lame with her husband and decided to stay.  I met these couple in a cafe.
In Melide, I looked for a hotel and a friendly German woman sent me to the Sony bar.  Here in the evening, I have eaten with her and her lady friend. On the western side of Melide, the church Santa Maria is situated.

To El Pino (Arca)

The trip going toward its end.  Everything becomes more easily and I could go even much farther.  The ways led through eucalyptus forest and in the late afternoon, I landed in an agreeable hotel.  In Galicia, one sees at the way the typical grain - and corn-storages, the "Horreos", standing on stilts, that carry a flagstone in each case, about the mice and rats to balk up-climbs.  I started tomorrow to the last stage.

To Santiago de Compostela

The last stage proceeded well, but I must overcome some unexpected ascents and descents.  Two French hiked bravely with me.  The monument on the Monto do Gozo is an atrocity and the cathedral of Santiago I could not discover from here in the mass of houses.  Below the Monto do Gozo, a gigantic pilgrim city is located, similar a camp, probably for bus travellers.  At the this season, this place is abandons however and empties.  At the end of the hike I missed the familiar yellow arrows, that gives one a calm feeling to be on the right way.  A woman answered a question after the cathedral by shaking the head.  I marched through the old part of town and suddenly I went on the place before the cathedral.  I turned around and have reached the goal.  First I sat down in the middle of the place and looked at the facade of the cathedral.  The nature took back the baroque yellow mouldy facade and lets bushes grow everywhere.  Why baroque, it is a romanesque church however, this fact I became aware, as I was going around the nave three times with my backpack.  My plan to sleep in a building with tradition once again, the Hostal de los Reyes Catolicos, the original hospital real, I refrained from doing after I saw a party of old ladies moving up to the Hostal from a bus as I sat on the Plaza del Obradoire.  With this decision, I saved much money.  I tried to avoid the tourists teeming everywhere and looked for small cheap hotel at the edge the old town.
Late in the afternoon I met the two English cyclists and I was glad to see some people, they make an effort  to reach Santiago.  With some glasses of Guinness in an Irish pub we let fade away the trip.  On the second day in Santiago, I took care of the return trip.  There are three possibilities:

• By railroad
• With the bus in Spain and the railroad in France
• By air plane, (with a certificated pilgrim passport one gets a benefit from IBERIA)

Summary

My wife makes me aware of a headline in our regional newspaper the Midi Libre of the 8th.  April 1999.  "Brigitte a fait le camino pour renaître, enfin...". ( Brigitte has done the "camino" to become finally born again.... )
L'antique migration celte aboutissait à ces lieux (Cap Finistera) où le soleil meurt chaque soir pour renaître à l'Orient chaque matin.  Le sens profond du chemin est de "mourir pour renaître".
(The antique Celtic hike led to this place (Cape Finistere), where the sun dies each evening to become born-again on the next morning at the Orient.  The more profound sense of the way is to be dying to become born again.

During the way there to Santiago de Compostela something inside will be dying but with the way back the actual renaissance takes place.

The End
Home page of the Author