The lights were switched on by the Hospitalero at 6am and
I crawled out of my sleeping bag to assess the perilous descent from my top
bunk to the floor below.
I had woken at 3am bursting for the toilet and as the
metal bunk bed ladder was at the foot of the bed, I had experienced
considerable difficulty waking up enough to crawl to the end of my bunk and
then turn 90° to go down the ladder without bumping my head against the slanted
roof inches in front of me! Once finally down, the door through to the kitchen
area to get through to the bathroom, had creaked loudly and involved flooding
the dormitory with light. I am sure the other pilgrims must have been cursing
me as I made loads of noise swaying around on the bunk in the dark, before
thumping onto the floor and then opening the door! The bathroom floor was also still
flooded and paddling in water at 3am had been tiresome. I had been relieved to
finally flop back in bed and morning seemed to come all too quickly!
In the kitchen, the Korean men were frying vast amounts
of eggs; “Chicken Village” was tucking into them with gusto and a further dozen
or so were being boiled by the Korean women to eat for the day’s journey ahead.
David and I ate a sandwich and some fruit and filled our water bladders.
Returning to the dormitory, we were amused to see that
the grinning Hospitalero had reappeared to rouse the final pilgrims who were
still snoozing in their bunks with cheerful exclamations of ¡Buenos Diaz!
whilst loudly playing Latin dance music on his mobile phone which he waved near
their ears. The recalcitrant snoozers abandoned any further thoughts of sleep
and finally staggered out of bed groaning.
 |
| Early morning Santo Domingo |
We stepped out of the albergue just after 7am and were
surprised how cold it was; only about 1°C and a near freezing fog hung over
everything, which lasted sporadically throughout the whole day. It was
definitely the coldest day since we left Pamplona.
 |
| Leaving Santo Domingo |
Making our way out of town we reached the fairly modern
version of the Puenta del Santo over
the rio Oja; the latest incarnation of the first bridge that Santo Domingo
built nearly 1,000 years ago. At the start of the bridge there was a small
brick oratory. Oratories beside bridges where pilgrims could pray before
crossing dangerous rivers were a common site in Medieval times; I can think of
two surviving examples in England that I have seen at Wakefield and Derby. In
this case, an information board told us that this one had been built in 1912 to
replace an earlier one swept away in a disastrous flood. Looking at the broad gravelly
river bed which was much wider than the present river flowing through it, David
and I agreed that we could well imagine raging flood torrents sweeping through
at times of flood. It made Santo Domingo’s achievement of building the first
bridge here seem all the more impressive.
 |
| Puente del Santo |
Beyond the bridge a fairly bleak foggy vista opened up.
To our left was the main N-120 road and some derelict looking factories with a
stork nesting on top of an abandoned chimney. We walked past the senior Korean,
who was walking alone and had such a look of sadness and weary solemnity on his
face that he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his
shoulders.
 |
| Bridge Oratory |
After we crossed the N-120 and had reached a tree-lined
stretch running parallel to the road, David walked on ahead of me, to pray and
continue memorising Ephesians, I had tried wearing some new foot orthotics on
Day 1 when we had left Estella, but all they had done was cause a large blister
on my right heel which I had been carefully protecting ever since by covering
with Compeed silicone plasters. The Compeed had worked well and the blister had
remained manageable, although it had slowly become larger. I had also realised
that my walking boots were getting old and were no longer adequate for
protecting my feet from friction and shearing forces around the heels. Leaving
Santo Domingo on this final day of walking before we returned home, the blister
was quite sore and I was limping as a result, although I found as the day went
on that it became much more bearable.
I fell into the rhythm of walking and found myself
praying and seeking God; reciting the prayer of confession from the Anglican
Book of Common Prayer, repeating psalms that came to mind and most of all
feeling the need to pray for my family; my wonderful wife and children and my
mother who would be recovering after her shoulder operation. As I lifted up
their needs and mine, to my surprise I gradually found myself crying in a deep
gentle way, much as I had done the day I had been walking up Alto del Perdon. I
felt spiritually vulnerable and acutely aware of the need for more of God in my
life.
The reasons for this feeling of vulnerability and
open-ness to God that I felt leaving Santo Domingo and have felt at other times
on the Camino interests me a lot. The materialist person would probably say
that it is just prompted by tiredness, the physical challenge of walking day
after day, my painful blister, or even just the melancholy foggy weather, and some
of that no doubt is true; inevitably our physical bodies will influence our
spiritual condition, but I firmly believe that this feeling of open-ness to God
is so much more than that;
Rónán Johnstone in his thought provoking book “Trust Surrender Believe Receive” (www.goodnewsbooks.net) talks
about how our desires and longings; the need for things such as affirmation,
sex, and even our banal desires like eating drinking and sleeping are really
only pointers to our deepest desire for more of God, which lies at the core of
our being. Johnstone points out that “To really engage with Jesus is to begin to
acknowledge that I don’t have total independence…to admit that I don’t have the
power to fulfil my own life…I am not enough in myself”. We secretly know
this but have a fear of admitting our dependency so he points out that we try
to cover “the deep inner fulfilment” that
we crave by trying to satisfy our desires with such things as relationships,
careers, material possessions, and activities, but that ultimately they do not
satisfy. Why? Because our desires are actually a gift that are supposed to help
us realise our dependency on God and lead us to him. “Desire is a reminder that we are not self-sufficient…the very gift
which will lead us to the one who created us in the beginning...to show us that
nothing compares to the love of God made known to us in Jesus His Son”.
My point is that fundamentally, I feel that the whole
experience of the Camino; the rhythm of rising early and going to bed, walking
in the fresh air, having time to reflect and just take time out of ordinary
life, strips away the superficial shell of activities with which we so often
surround ourselves and use to hide from our deepest desires and needs, and
forces us instead to start to be more real with ourselves and God so that we begin
interacting with Him on a deeper level.
My weeping was what Paul describes in the New Testament book
of Romans 8:26 as “groaning in the Spirit”; my spirit responding from deep
inside me; calling out to God and desiring his love and refreshment.
In the same way, the Spirit
helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the
Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans”
Walking the Camino forces me to take time out to be what
the author Richard Foster calls “to be
present where we are” in his book on Prayer.
“God
wants us to be present where we are. He invites us to see and to hear what is
around us and, through it all to discern the footprints of the Holy”
I caught up with David at La Cruz de los Valientes. A modern metal cross beside the gravel
track above the N-120, where it cuts through a hill, marks the site of medieval
combat between two local champions; one from Santo Domingo and one from the
next town of Grañon. The story goes that both towns were in dispute about
ownership of a piece of land half-way between them both, so the argument was
settled by trial by combat between a representative from each community, the
idea being that God would favour the innocent party. In this case the town of
Grañon won the fight.
David was sitting on a bench beside the cross, which was
covered with items that other pilgrims had left – crosses, stones, prayers. One
laminated memorial card, wedged onto the cross had really drawn his attention
and he pointed it out to me; it was a simple card with a photograph of a
handsome, well dressed young man called Edward Robnett Archer. The card gave
the dates of his short life “November 1, 1997 – May 11, 2014 and the Bible
verse from John 1:5
“The Light shines in the darkness and the
darkness has not overcome it”.
As we looked at the card we were deeply moved; I realised
that this young man was almost exactly the same age as my daughter and I
imagined the horror of what it would be like to lose her. We could only imagine
the terrible grief and heartache that the Archer family and their friends must
be going through and we realised that someone who had known this young man and
loved him had walked on the Camino recently to try and deal with their grief,
leaving this card at the cross.
As we sat on the bench thinking of this, David began weeping.
We prayed for the Archer family and their loss and as we read the Psalms of
Ascents that we had allocated for the
day, we were amazed yet again, how appropriate they seemed on that dark, cold
foggy morning.
"Out of the depths I cry to
you, Lord;
Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive
to my cry for mercy.”
Psalm 130: 1-2
We
walked on and reached Grañon – just as we entered it or Latin music playing Hospitalero
was turning around with a friend to walk back to Santo Domingo – clearly each
morning after he had seen the pilgrims on their way, he would take a walk for
exercise to Grañon and back!
The
fog had lifted slightly as we reached the village and daylight was beginning to
break through more effectively at times. It was still early and the Church of
St John the Baptist was closed, but opposite was a cheerful little café-cum-shop
and we stepped inside as the Koreans were leaving, to indulge in what the
Germans like to call Zweites Frühstuck - Second
Breakfast. We managed to get the window seat surrounded by local artwork
which was for sale and I enjoyed coffee and Tostada
– great slabs of toasted bread slathered in butter and marmalade; ideal
comfort food for a cold foggy morning!
 |
| David in the Café at Granon |
We
continued uphill and out of Grañon, descending through a wide open landscape of
large fields into a small valley and then up the far side. As we had travelled
across La Rioja each kilometre of the Camino had been marked with wooden posts
telling the traveller the remaining distance to Santiago. Just outside Grañon
we found the post showing that we had 555km to go so I photographed David
standing beside this interesting number.
 |
| David walking uphill in Granon |
Just
further on we met Alex the Brazilian really struggling with the agony of shin
splints. He was in a bad way and walking very slowly and at times going
backwards uphill as this put less stress on his tibial muscles – pain I
remembered only too well when I walked to Cirauqui last year. We stopped and
chatted briefly to Alex and I told him that I felt his pain as I too had
experienced shin splints.
 |
| La Rioja's wooden kilometre posts |
At
the top of the valley, we reached the border between the regions of La Rioja
and Castille and León marked by a large sign showing a map of the Camino
through the next region. I had made it across my second Spanish region!
 |
| Entering Castille & Leon |
Castille
and León is the largest autonomous region in Spain at 95,000 km₂ but only has a
population of 2.5 million. 50% of the time on the Camino is spent walking
across three of it’s nine provinces; Burgos; Palencia and León and it includes of
course, the flat plateau region of the Meseta
which covers 1/3 of the Iberian Peninsula.
Whilst
we examined the map Alex forlornly limped up to us to ask what we were looking at.
We explained we had reached the border of Castille and León. “Oh good” he
replied “that means the end of those annoying wooden posts every kilometre – I
hate them!”
Further
on we reached Redecilla del Camino; the furthest point that Santo Domino’s
roadbuilding efforts took him to from Najêra. I had noted this village when
planning to walk the Camino as it contained a star feature I wanted to see – a
fine 12th Century Romansque baptismal font in the church of the Virgen de la Calle (The Virgin of the Road).
Unfortunately, the church was closed! I cast around undeterred and spotted
a local lady brushing her doorstep. The information board outside the church
discussed the font in English and Spanish so I noted the Spanish word for font
and approached her gesticulating at the church using this word combined with iglesia,
whilst miming turning a key in a lock. (Yes, I am ashamed at my lack of
Spanish!) She pointed out the house where the custodian lived in the corner of
the plaza and I rang his doorbell. He appeared and said “two minutes please” in
English and disappeared back into his house.
 |
| The Church of the Virgin of the Road |
Meanwhile
the fishmonger arrived in a large white van tooting furiously and several
ladies gathered around to buy fresh fish (it was Friday after all). We were
amused to see that the village’s local cats also eagerly appeared and the
fishmonger threw them a few scraps of fish off cuts which they clearly enjoyed.
 |
| The fishmonger with feline friend |
Whilst
we were waiting, Alex came along again and we explained that we were waiting
for the key so that I could see the font. We chatted and then Alex said “You
know when you said you felt my pain earlier – where did you mean?” I said I
meant the pain in his shin. “Oh” he replied, “I thought you meant the pain
here” and placed his hand over his heart. I asked him gently did he have pain
there and he said he did and how much of a failure he felt because he was two
days ahead of the rest of his party and had been doing really well until he got
shin splints. Now though, he felt he had let himself down. It turned out that
Alex, who I had taken to be a very laid back kind of guy was actually a very
driven person, who pushed himself too hard. David and I talked to him about going
easy on himself, about not needing to prove anything to others, and about
finding contentment with himself and who he has been made to be.
The
Church Custodian arrived, with the key and we were let in to examine the extraordinary
font, protected behind a steel gate. A large bowl carved with architectural towers,
windows and carved interlaced friezes rests on a pillar consisting of eight
columns with what is possibly a snake curling around it’s base. I was glad I
had made the effort to hunt down the key as I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this
Camino jewel.
 |
| Romanesque Font |
Back
outside we slowly walked up the street and continued our conversation with
Alex. David explained that we were Christians and asked Alex would he mind if
we prayed for the issues we had talked about and especially for his leg? Alex
was happy for us to pray, so we explained that in the New Testament Christians
often prayed for someone by “laying hands” on them; gently placing their hands
on the person and with his permission, we stopped in the road, placed our on
hands on him and prayed for Alex – that God would bless him, heal his leg and
give him peace and contentment in his heart, that he would no longer feel the
need to prove himself to people but be content in who he was; it was a special
time for David and myself on this year’s Camino. We could see that Alex was a
great guy; someone who was genuine, honest and thoughtful.
Leaving
Alex to walk slowly onwards, we came to the village of Castildelgado. The fog
had come down thickly again and the fishmonger had caught up with us and the
local cats were appearing again on cue in hopeful lip-smacking anticipation!
By
lunchtime we had reached Viloria de Rioja; the birthplace of Santo Domingo de
la Calzada (although the ruins of his house have been inexplicably demolished)
and found that the private albergue mentioned in John Brierley’s book run by
Acacio and Orietta was open and lunch was available. The downstairs of the
albergue which was clearly in an ancient timber-framed building, was open plan
and rustic with a basic kitchen area and a lady, who I presume was Orietta, was
available to make sandwiches. A carafe of red wine and a bowl of local hazel
and walnuts were on the table for us to help ourselves. Everything in the
Albergue, including the lunch, is funded by pilgrim donations and there was no
official charge, so we gave a generous donativo.We
enjoyed a satisfying chorizo and cheese sandwich each and discussed with our
host the map of the Camino and she traced for us the route of the Camino Primitivo from Oviedo which she recommended for it’s beauty.
Definitely advice to file away for a future trip!
 |
| The albergue at Viloria de Rioja |
As
we were leaving Viloria de Rioja I noted that the parish church had a most
unusual timber framed structure over hanging the eaves of it’s buttressed apse.
We also stopped to laugh at a bizarre garden ornament outside one of the
houses; the leg of a shop mannequin sticking upside down out of the ground! The
big question that came to my mind was WHY??
 |
| Church at Viloria de Rioja |
We
were laughing at this when a group of late middle aged Spanish walkers came
along and stopped to see what was causing our amusement. The group turned out
to be a group of professionals from Madrid in their late 50’s and 60’s who met
on a different day each week to discuss a subject of interest; either something
from their professional careers or some other matter that interested them. A
jovial man engaged us in conversation in excellent English – he was a Fire
Safety Officer at a Nuclear Power Station and this interested David a lot, as
he too is a Fire Safety Officer in Cork. They compared notes on the Fire
Training Centre they had both once attended in Moreton-in-Marsh in
Gloucestershire, England.
 |
| Interesting garden ornament! |
Our
new friend said he had also been to visit the English Nuclear Power Station at
Dungeness. He explained that the club included a doctor, a nurse an
orthodontist, and a lawyer and the rules were that they could discuss any
subject except politics and religion. Two of the members had even met and
fallen in love after previous marriage breakups, so the club clearly had other
uses in addition to just discussions! Every few months one of the members would
organise a trip away for the weekend – on this occasion they were walking from
Santo Domingo to Burgos, but they were having portage for their bags and
staying in nice hotels. He himself was from Segovia and he was organising the
next trip later in the year to visit Roman remains and the sites of St Theresa
of Avila as it was this March was the 500th anniversary of her birth
. I gently ribbed him by asking why his group weren’t carrying their bags and
he said, “well I am 63 and not as fit as you”. I teased him saying that David
was 59 and if he could do it on his first Camino trip, he should try it next
time. Eventually after walking a couple of kilometres to Villamayor del Rio enjoying
the convivial conversation, our new acquaintance excused himself “I will say
goodbye friends because you are walking too fast for me and I need a pee!”
 |
| Castle ruins at Belorado |
The
path now had a long rather tedious stretch alongside the N-120 before it
finally dipped down into the little valley where the town of Belorado is
situated. We had walked 22.9 km in 6 hours and 51 minutes. And 140km since
Estella. We had reached the target for our walk on this occasion. I was sorry
our walk was coming to an end.
 |
| Hermit's caves, Belorado |
Belorado
is an interesting and historic little town with narrow streets of multi-coloured
buildings, (some of them with walls leaning rather precariously!) which open
onto a wide town square. It has Roman origins but was resettled in 1116 when
King Alfonso I of Aragón made it into a frontier stronghold on the border with
León. Sitting in the Tirón river valley it is overshadowed by a limestone
outcrop which has the ruins of a castle on it’s summit, which once defended the
frontier of Castille, and many hermit’s cave dwellings cut into it’s sides.
Some of them seem to have been converted into modern structures with windows
and doors! The origin of the name “Belorado” seems to be linked to these caves
as it is said to come from the “Belfuratus”
mentioned in Aymeric Picaud’s guide which comes from the Latin forare – to bore into the rock face. According
to Lozano one of the caves is said to be linked to San Caprasio and an image of
the saint which was once kept in the caves is now in the church of San Nicolás.
This may be the same saint who was once said to have hid trembling in a cave
until his faith restored by seeing a young virgin martyred (her relics are kept
at Conques near Le Puy) and later became Bishop of Agen.
 |
| Church of Santa Maria |
The
path entered the town crossing over a small bridge in front of the 16th
Century Parish Church of Santa Maria, the tower of which was bedecked with a
total of four stork nests! We made our way round to Albergue Quatro Cantones which was situated just
off the main square because we liked the sound of it in John Brierley’s guidebook.
Walking inside to register we were delighted to be greeted by our old friend
Vira the Buddhist Nun. It was wonderful to see a familiar face and we greeted
each other like long lost friends – although we had only met for first time at
Estella, it’s amazing how quick you build up a bond with fellow pilgrims and we
already felt we had so much shared experience. Vira expressed surprise at
seeing us as she thought we would have been a day ahead of her as she had taken
it easy one day and not walked as far as usual, but we explained that we had
taken a detour to San Millán de la Cogolla.
 |
| Albergue Quatro Cantones |
The
albergue turned out to be delightful, with a warm and cosy atmosphere. There
was a homely kitchen, with a table for pilgrims to sit around, heated by a wood
burning stove which the Hospitalero would replenish with fresh timber regularly.
This was very welcome on such a cold and foggy day! Strings of dried garlic
hung from the ceiling beams and added to the domestic atmosphere. The dormitory
was comfortable and warm with blue and red striped sheets covering the
mattresses and adding a welcoming note.
 |
| The albergue kitchen (Chicken Village standing at end of table) |
After
checking in and handing over the dirty laundry we had accumulated since Logroño
we made for the showers. As there were only two and both were occupied, I let
David go first when one became free whilst I waited for the other one. Whoever
was in the other shower was certainly taking their time. David came out and
since a German young woman was waiting too, I let her go next whilst I
continued waiting for the other shower. The occupant was now cleaning his teeth
in the shower and then every now and then the shower would be switched off and
I would think he was finished, only to hear the shower start again for another
few minutes. David by now was dressed and still I waited. Finally the occupant
of the shower appeared – it was Chicken
Village smiling broadly – he must have been the cleanest Korean in Northern
Spain after his marathon shower session. I could only smile upon seeing he is
beaming face again – who could be annoyed?
 |
| The dormitory with Michael from Arizona on left |
After
showering we had a wander around the town, but the temperature was near
freezing and because we had so few clothes on, having put most of them in the
laundry, we had to give up when I started shivering and dive into a bar under a
loggia on the Plaza for coffee and pastries.
 |
| David in albergue kitchen with friend! |
Returning
to the Albergue, David fell into conversation with a pilgrim from Arizona
called Michael. He was telling David how he had met this Brazilian called Alex
who was in a bad way with his leg and how he had encouraged him to keep going
and had walked with him to Belorado. David was thrilled to hear this and
explained we had talked with him at Redecilla. “Oh are you the guys who prayed
for Alex?” exclaimed Michael “Alex was really touched by you guys doing thatand
showing him such concern!” We were delighted to hear that Alex had made it to
Belorado – it was such a personal achievement for him as we had thought he
would have had to stop at Viloria. Michael had obtaineds Alex’s mobile number as
he was staying in the Municipal albergue and texted him to invite him to join
us for dinner that night and we hatched a plan to club together to pay for his
meal to bless and encourage him.
 |
| The Plaza, Belorado |
The
rest of the afternoon was spent pleasantly sitting by the wood burning stove
chatting to Vira. She explained how she had been a successful business woman
from New Jersey, but when her sister had been diagnosed with terminal cancer
and had died peacefully unafraid of her impending death, it had caused Vira to
reassess her life and she now lived an ascetic life in Burma after she had been
ordained as a Buddhist nun. Vira also enjoyed hearing of our trip to San Millán
and we showed her pictures of Suso and Yuso.
 |
| A town house in Belorado |
That
evening David, Michael, Vira, Alex and myself had a wonderful meal together in
a restaurant off the plaza. When Alex arrived we cheered and applauded him and
we had a great evening chatting to each other; hearing about Michael’s wife and
family in Arizona, Alex’s plans for the future and Vira’s life in Burma. It was
one of those special evenings of pilgrim fellowship that is so characteristic
of the Camino and it book-ended myself and David’s walk from Estella to
Belorado so appropriately as we had enjoyed Heinz’s party in Los Arcos on our
first night and finished our walk with another memorable meal on our last
night. My only regret is that I forgot to get Alex’s mobile number as I would
love to know if he made it to Santiago. Alex if you ever happen to read this
back in Brazil – let me know as David and I were impressed with your courage!
 |
| Left-Right: David, Michael, Alex, me and Vira |
