Sunrises to Santiago
SUNRISES TO SANTIAGO
SEARCHING FOR PURPOSE ON THE CAMINO DE SANTIAGO
Gabriel Schirm
Sunrises to Santiago
Copyright © 2015 by Gabriel Schirm.
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Paz Publishing LLC, Denver. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author or publisher (except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages and/or show brief video clips in a review).
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2015908124
eISBN 978-0-9861224-0-8
Printed in the United States of America
For Amy, my personal guru and best friend
Table of Contents
Author’s Note
Trail Days and Distance
Map of Route
Introduction
PART ONE. WALKING STICK
Arrival
Euphoria
The Barista
Walking Stick
La Rioja
Camino Surprises
Bed Bugs
PART TWO. THE MESETA
The Meseta
Roman Way
Achilles Tendinitis
Rest
Recovery
PART THREE. THE PENCIL
The Meaning of Life
Soul of Galicia
Crowds
The Pencil
Life Stages
Santiago de Compostela
Afterword
Endnotes
Bibliography
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
To write this book, I relied on a personal journal I kept while walking the Camino de Santiago during the summer of 2014. To maintain anonymity, I have changed the names of the characters in this book with the exception of my wife, Amy, who completed this journey with me. In addition to my memory and journal entries, I have included researched facts when I felt they added to the depth and understanding of the story.
Trail Days and Distance
1 St. Jean Pied-de-Port – Roncesvalles 25 km/16 miles
2 Roncesvalles – Zuriain 32 km/20 miles
3 Zuriain – Zariquiegui 23 km/14 miles
4 Zariquiegui – Puente la Reina 13 km/8 miles
5 Puente la Reina – Estella 22 km/14 miles
6 Estella – Los Arcos 21 km/13 miles
7 Los Arcos – Logroño 29 km/18 miles
8 Logroño – Nájera 30 km/19 miles
9 Nájera – Grañon 28 km/18 miles
10 Grañon – Villafranca Montes de Oca 28 km/17 miles
11 Villafranca – Cardeñuela Riopica 24 km/15 miles
12 Cardeñuela Riopica – Burgos 14 km/9 miles
13 Burgos – Hontanas 32 km/20 miles
14 Hontanas – Boadilla del Camino 29 km/18 miles
15 Boadilla del Camino – Carrión de los Condes 27 km/16 miles
16 Carrión – Terradillos de Templarios 27 km/17 miles
17 Terradillos – Calzadilla de los Hermanillos 27 km/17 miles
18 Calzadilla de los Hermanillos – León 43 km/27 miles
19 León 0 km/0 miles
20 León – Villafranca del Bierzo 132 km/82 miles
21 Villafranca del Bierzo – Vega de Valcarce 19 km/12 miles
22 Vega de Valcarce – Hospital de la Condesa 17 km/11 miles
23 Hospital de la Condesa – A Balsa 19 km/12 miles
24 A Balsa – Barbadelo 20 km/12 miles
25 Barbadelo – Portomarín 18 km/11 miles
26 Portomarín – Portos 19 km/12 miles
27 Portos – Boente 26 km/16 miles
28 Boente – Salceda 20 km/12 miles
29 Salceda – Santiago de Compostela 28 km/17 miles
Introduction
Can you use adventure as a form of therapy? Can it be used as a reset button for those who have lost their way? I certainly think so. For me, travel is a way to make space in my life for the answers I seek. Not an escape, but a journey to find personal Truth. Perhaps this is why so many have chosen to walk the historic pilgrimage called the Camino de Santiago in Spain. Since the Middle Ages, questions about life have been asked here. The answers, I am certain, have been as varied as the personalities and lives that have experienced this deeply personal journey.
I first learned of the Camino de Santiago while living in the south of Spain with my wife. I am a lover of the great outdoors, and while spending many a weekend with new Spanish friends enjoying sendirismos, or hikes, I heard about this incredible personal pilgrimage many of my new friends had completed. Some multiple times. The stories of how this journey changed their lives are what inspired me to start planning my own Camino. They told me that I, too, should take on this historic route that crosses their beautiful country. What started as a crazy idea slowly turned into real curiosity, and I began to seek the advice of my Andalucian friends. I would ask them questions like, “Where should I begin? Can I walk it with my wife? What do you bring? Where do you sleep? Why did you walk? What is the Camino de Santiago, anyway?”
The history and lore of El Camino de Santiago is fascinating. The story starts with St. James, who was one of the 12 apostles of Jesus and one of the first to be martyred.1 In 40 AD, St. James sailed to Galicia and began his ministry. He preached in Finisterre, the end of the Earth, on the coast of northwestern Spain. This village was sacred and an important location for Druidic rituals. St. James had limited success converting the local pagans to Christianity and returned to Jerusalem where Herod subsequently had him beheaded. His disciples decided to bring his body back to be buried in Finisterre.
Queen Lupa, who was a powerful pagan monarch at that time, was not happy with this plan. She wanted James’s body destroyed and the disciples killed. As the queen’s soldiers closed in on the disciples, they were able to escape by crossing the river Tambre just as the bridge collapsed behind them. They escaped to Santiago, and that is the final resting place of the remains of St. James. As time passed and generations took their turns here on Earth, St. James was all but forgotten.
By the Middle Ages, while the Roman Empire in Spain was losing power, the Muslim community from Morocco started spreading Islam and gaining power in Spain. Life under the Moors was good for a numbe
r of years, and the rulers allowed people complete religious freedom. Christians were allowed to openly practice their faith even under Islamic rule.
The story of St. James only resurfaces again in the year 813 when a bright star led a shepherd named Pelayo to a field near Santiago where he discovered the hidden tomb of St. James. The modern day name for the city was born, Santiago de Compostela. Sant Lago meaning Saint James, campos meaning field and stella meaning star. Sant Lago de Campos Stella. It is important to note that this is one of many historical theories.
The local bishop jumped on Pelayo’s discovery and declared it to be true. He conveniently used the story of St. James in congruence with the reconquista of Spain for Christianity. In subsequent battles, the story goes that the ghost of St. James would appear on the battlefields at just the right moment to help the Christians defeat the Moors. St. James became known as the Moor-slayer or Santiago Matamoros. He was particularly good at slicing off soldiers’ heads with his sword while riding atop a gallant white steed. Ironic since he himself was beheaded. After all of those years in silence, he quickly became the patron saint of Spain, a title that he still enjoys today.
So when did people start walking to Santiago de Compostela to pay their respects? The first historical record of a pilgrimage happened in 950 when Bishop Gotescalco made the journey. This route became increasingly popular among pilgrims in the twelfth and fourteenth centuries. When the Holy Land was no longer accessible to Christians, El Camino de Santiago became the pilgrimage for Christians. Thousands upon thousands of people decided to make the pilgrimage during the Middle Ages. Many simply walking out their front door, beginning in Paris, Barcelona, Geneva, Granada, Sevilla and of course St. Jean Pied-de-Port, and making their way to the incredible cathedral in Santiago de Compostela where the relics of St. James rest, and still remain to this day.2
Today, people walk this route for a number of reasons. Some religious and others for personal growth. An adventure trekking across the north of Spain sounded exactly like what I needed. An incurable wanderlust had led me to the south of Spain after I had (once again) escaped the monotony of an unfulfilling job back in the United States. The recent celebration of my 30th birthday only amplified my angst. My least favorite party question to be asked was, “So, what do you do?”
I watched my friends and spouse becoming accomplished professionals. I wondered why I couldn’t seem to get it together. I started to wonder if I would ever work at a job I truly enjoyed and, by extension, find my life’s passion. I had already spent my 20s traveling and trying on hats that never really fit. It was time for a change.
I am not a deeply religious person but if pressed would define myself as spiritual. I had high hopes that walking the Camino de Santiago and communing with nature would also help answer the questions I needed answered. Not only questions about my career but also deeper questions that I had always pushed to the back of my mind. What is the meaning of life? Why am I here? What is my purpose here on Earth? A tall order, I know, but I decided that the answers to my questions were waiting for me somewhere in the north of Spain.
This book chronicles a journey of personal growth on the Camino de Santiago and an incredible adventure. From the physical high of crossing the magnificent Pyrenees Mountains to the mind numbing rhythm of walking through the summer heat of the Meseta. From challenges like bed bugs and tendinitis to emotional scars that would lead to elusive answers. The lessons were all around. Who knew thousands of vivid colors greet each day before a Spanish sunrise? Or that with a simple pencil, a kind man in Galicia could teach me lessons about my own journey through life?
Did I find the answers to all of my questions? Absolutely, but not in the way I had planned. The answers to my questions came from the amazing experiences and conversations I had with fellow pilgrims from all over the world. My body suffered greatly. My mind was tested and my spirit broken at times. This experience changed who I am, and I decided to write it all down.
PART ONE
THE WALKING STICK
I cried everyday for the first
week because the pain was incredible.
Kate, Pilgrim from Seattle
Trail Day 4
It’s about the Way,
not about the destination.
Anonymous, Written on a Stone Near Estella
Trail Day 5
Arrival
It is a homecoming of sorts but I couldn’t feel farther away from home. Pamplona. I spot the large black and white airport sign shining in the afternoon sun. It looks as if it has been polished just for our arrival. After a 20-hour day of travel, my brain is foggy, but we manage to grab a cab. I am overjoyed to be back in Spain and quickly practice my rusty Spanish with our taxi driver. “¡Hola, buenas!” I yell as we throw our packs in the back of the cab.
We make our way to the hotel as I enthusiastically tell the driver, “¡Mañana vamos a empezar el Camino de Santiago!” Tomorrow we are going to begin the Camino de Santiago! He looks at me with a big grin and says, “I know.” I guess our clothes and backpacks gave us away.
I gaze out of the window, and my mind flashes back to two years earlier as my wife Amy and I sat in our small apartment in Granada, Spain. The memory still fresh and vivid in my mind. Tears streamed down her face as she applied an ice pack to her fractured fibula, just above the left ankle. Bitter disappointment filled the room. Our half packed backpacks lay on the floor, and a guidebook for the Camino de Santiago seemed to mock us from its place on the table. We were supposed to leave that day to begin the Camino. The culmination and end to our two year adventure of living in Spain. A night of dancing after our goodbye party ended all of those grand plans when Amy quite literally busted a move on the dance floor. I told her not to worry, not quite believing it myself. We will get to go someday. Everything happens for a reason.
“We are here!” The cabdriver interrupts my daydream.
I turn back to the cabdriver and offer a smile. He hands us our backpacks and with true sincerity shakes my hand, looks me directly in the eyes, and says, “Buen Camino peregrinos,” which basically means happy trails or have a good walk. A peregrino is Spanish for pilgrim.
After our overnight stay in Pamplona, we catch the bus to our chosen starting point for this journey: St. Jean Pied-de-Port in France. By midafternoon, after a nausea-inducing bus ride over windy mountain roads, Amy and I find ourselves at the beginning of a long planned adventure three years in the making. The Camino Frances. Of the many routes to Santiago de Compostela, the Camino Frances is by far the most famous and subsequently the most popular. We hop off the bus with a handful of Camino strangers and make our way to the pilgrim’s office to obtain our “pilgrim passports.”
These official documents are required if you want to stay in the network of albergues (pronounced al-BEAR-gay) or pilgrim hostels that are found along the Way. These simple budget accommodations are reserved for pilgrims only and will provide us with a bed, a shower, a roof, and basic necessities. The special passports could have also been ordered by mail, but I am trying to approach this adventure without much planning. The colorful stamps that you collect from the pilgrim hostels each day will be the evidence you present upon arrival in Santiago de Compostela to prove you have actually completed your journey and thus receive your Compostela (certificate of completion).
The pilgrim’s office is bustling with new arrivals eager to begin their journey. There is a row of tables set up inside, each manned by a volunteer. I hear four or five different languages being spoken at the same time, and the electric feeling of excitement is palpable. Each volunteer shouts out a language when she is finished helping a pilgrim and it is the next person’s turn: “Frances! Español! English!” We make our way to the English table and take a seat. Each passport costs 2 euros and is handed to us encased in a small plastic baggie.
“For the rain,” our helpful volunteer explains. “But you are lucky because the weather forecast is calling for sun tomorrow. Crossing the Pyrenees is best d
uring sunny days. You will love the views. Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?” She asks. I hadn’t even thought about it, and my look gives me way. She quickly calls up an albergue in town and books us two beds. Easy enough!
We slowly make our way to the albergue through this small French town. The old stone buildings form walls on either side of the cobble-stone streets, and a wide river runs through the center of town. We take our time crossing over an old stone bridge that connects both sides of the river. Brightly colored flowers grow from planter boxes hanging under windowsills, and vines crawl up some of the walls, easily finding anchors in the somehow perfect cracks. Beyond the city center, the town is surrounded by lush green hills and mountains. We both look around through the rose-colored eyes of travelers, and big grins spread across our faces. A woman wearing an apron steps out of her quaint little bakery and waves, “Bonjour!”
We finally find our albergue and are greeted by a cheery French woman with rosy cheeks and a charming accent. She declares, “I am the famous Amandine! Welcome! Breakfast will be ready at six o’clock tomorrow morning. Now, I will show you your beds.”
Amandine shows us to our room, which contains about 20 beds and leaves us to choose. I leave my hat on my chosen bed next to a large window as a sign it has been claimed. We grab our large Camino backpacks and decide to go find some food before settling in for the night. The famous Amandine stops us as we walk past the front door. “What are you doing with your bags?” she asks in her thick French accent, clearly confused.
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