At the start of the next day, we began heading into a more mountainous section of trail. On our way up, we encountered such notable attractions such as these small cow cages:
This creepy pilgrim statue:
And remnants of some kind of industrial dig site:
However, It was around mid day when things got particularly interesting.
Karin and I were approaching the summit of a small mountain when we spotted two of our German acquaintances (though technically not part of our group) near the top. They were stopped, and appeared to be taking a rest break.
"Guten tag! Wie Geht es dir?"
Karin immediately sprung into German and began asking about how the two were doing, as we hadn't seen them in several days.
The two Germans were named Anna and Amelie. Sisters that had a history of adventuring together, they had decided to hike the Camino with the short time they had off from their studies. They were both college students, though they were studying very different disciplines. Amelie, the younger one (early twenties) was studying humanities. Anna, the older one (mid twenties), was studying to be a doctor. Ironic, since in the short time we (the crew) had known her, she seemed to have a penchant for physical injury. Though she wasn’t the first doctor by far we had encountered that was habitually in some state of injury. As Ken so eloquently put it: “Lotta doctors seem to need doctors out here, eh?”
After it was apparent that the conversation was going to extend past simple chit-chat, it was at this point I zoned out (the only German phrase I really know is "Nicht Shiessen" or don't shoot) and began looking around at our surroundings. It was then that I noticed something odd. Up the trail about 200 yards looked to be a small green shack of some kind, with what appeared to be white curtains strung around it. Very weird considering we were on top of a mountain between two larger towns and there really wasn't anything else around.
"Oh! Have you heard of this guy?"
Anna had followed my gaze.
"What guy?"
"He's kind of like a hippy guy. He lives up here with no water or electricity or anything. But he gives out free snacks and things. That's his place. My book mentions him…"
I immediately checked my own book. No mention of any guy. Just a "seasonal snack stand.”
Huh. A Spanish mountain man who hands out snacks. Well I'll be damned.
We moved up the trail closer to the green shack. And sure enough, there was what appeared to be a snack stand, positioned in front of the crumbling remains of a farm house of some sort with a circular rock garden out front:
The snack stand itself (Complete with fresh fruit, juices of all kinds, and fresh bread):
We hadn't been standing in front of the snack stand more than a few minutes when a man suddenly appeared. He was on the taller side, and looked to be early middle aged, though he had a weathered face and it was hard to judge.
"Bienvenidos! Hola! and welcome! Hello to you all! Please! Please! Take some of these! The Camino provides!"
He moved past our group and positioned himself in front of the stand, then began to excitedly tell us about what he had to offer.
"These are all fresh juices, all very healthy and good for the body and strength! And this, this is fresh apple juice! David make it here for you! And tea, and coffee, and water! And have some bananas and oranges!..."
Well. Apparently fruit is a cause for celebration. I poured myself some of the fresh apple juice, then struck up a conversation with the man. He spoke with a heavy Spanish accent, but was easily understandable.
"Hey man. So I gotta ask...why do you do this?"
"Ah! Because! The energy of these people and this place are good. The energy from the happy people goes from them into this place, and then into David. This is why David has been here so long..."
"Oh. So you live here then?"
"Yes! I have bed and water and food. I make fire in the garden for the earth. But really David just wants people to be happy."
I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that this guy's name is probably David.
"What's your name, man?"
"My name is David."
We have a winner.
He then immediately launched into a tirade about paper and trash on the Camino bordering on the closely nonsensical. Yet his generosity and his warm nature could not be ignored, and his snacks were indeed quite delicious. He actually reminded me a lot of this character from a video game I used to play a lot when I was younger.
Once his rant was over, I saw an opportunity to commemorate the occasion of our paths crossing.
"Ah, cool, I'm gonna take your picture, ok?"
"Ah yes! You take picture of David!"
David (Dah-veed). Spanish mountain man extraordinaire.
According to David, he had been living up there for 6 years or so, tending his garden and his small house. Well...really it was more like a shelter: Yet he did say that he stays up there through all the seasons as well, so it is possible he may have different places he sleeps depending on the weather.
After sticking around for about half an hour and sampling various juices, Karin and I headed out.
"Goodbye David!"
David moved close to us and gave us each a firm hug.
"Goodbye, Peregrinos! Buen Camino!"
Well. You can’t call it an adventure without making a habit of encountering the unexpected.
We hiked onward out of the mountains and into the valley below
Before arriving at the gates of Astorga:
The modern city of Astorga was originally founded in 14 BC by Roman Emperor Octavian to serve as a regional administrative and military center. A good deal of Roman investment made the city one of the most advanced of its time, and much of the Roman architecture (including the city’s sewer system) is still in use today. It is also a mainline Camino stop, and has many public works and art dedicated to the trail (and the pilgrims):
After a night’s rest, hiking out of Astorga went the same as hiking out of most Camino cities. It always amazes me how quickly land surrounding cities in Spain suddenly becomes countryside. This is likely due to the medieval strategic fortification process (cities fortified with high walls, countryside immediately outside the walls), but it’s an eerie feeling nonetheless. In the states, cities generally have miles of suburbs. Not here:
This is only a few km from Astorga. And it is very much countryside.
Oh, and we did end up having to go up into (and over) those mountains in the background (the close ones, not the far ones). But the climb was gradual and the trail was comfortable with a good deal of farmland scrub brush and small trees. Kinda reminded me a bit of the AT:
Yet after a long day of hiking, our final destination of Foncebadon appeared on the horizon:
Foncebadon (fon-seh-bah-don) had been a ghost town for many years before a small Camino revival took place, pumping much needed money into a nonexistent town economy. Crumbling buildings still litter the streets, though the views are absolutely spectacular:
And the highlight of this town is the Celtic bar called "Gaia Tavern"
And that they do. The food is phenomenal as well. I ordered a burger, and received this:
Almost an entire pound of burger. Insane.
I also made a contribution to the owner's extensive world currency collection above the bar:
The likeness of Alexander Hamilton. Stapled to a bar in Spain next to official-looking world leaders, past and present. It's what he would've wanted...
After a solid night's rest and catching a beautiful sunrise on our way out of Foncebadon:
Karin and I arrived at the legendary Cruz De Ferro. Arguably the most significant Camino landmark, the Cruz De Ferro is said to be an ancient artifact older than the Camino itself, placed by the pagan tribes who occupied the area prior to the Christians. It was originally just a pointed stone pillar, but the Christians found it necessary to re-brand it from its pagan appearance and placed a cross atop the monument. It is truly a majestic place, seated at the crest of a magnificent mountain surrounded by serene, breathtaking landscape:
Psych! The Cruz de Ferro is probably the most underwhelming thing on the Camino. They put that shit by a road and a small park with a picnic area surrounded by trees. There really isn’t even a view:
Karin and I paused to take in the sheer underwhelmingness of it all. I laughed.
“Ha! What a freakin bust!”
“I can’t believe this! I am so glad my mom decided to skip this part. This is so lame!”
Karin’s mom decided to forego the rough terrain of this section and meet the rest of the crew up the trail a ways, but she had expressed much dismay over missing the Cruz De Ferro.
“Do you have something to leave?”
Karin’s question did highlight the one REAL thing about the Cruz de Ferro that still remained: the tradition of leaving behind a burden. The gravel pile in the pictures above is actually a pile of rocks left at the cross by pilgrims of the Camino throughout the ages. Tradition dictates that pilgrims initially start the trail carrying a rock or other object to represent the weight of difficult things in their lives that they carry with them. This object is then symbolically laid at the feet of God at the cross, thereby offering the Pilgrim freedom from the burden and a more enjoyable journey into Santiago.
But, being an experienced hiker, I don’t carry heavy things just to carry them. I thought for a moment…
“Actually, yes, I do”
I took off my pack and began to root through it until I found what I was looking for:
My contribution to the Cruz De Ferro. A lightweight waterproof keyboard and a shotgun shell I had found early on in my journey. While seemingly odd items to leave at the cross, they are oddly pertinent in the grand scheme of my personal life. The keyboard represents the long (and likely unhealthy) amount of time I spend on computers (both as a profession and a hobby), and the shotgun shell represents the lifelong opportunity costs associated with my pervasive and unyielding purchases related to being a firearm enthusiast. Having a hobby such as that can get quite expensive, and being a computer geek leading a largely sedentary lifestyle is definitely not healthy in the long run (ever notice how the oldest IT guys in your office tend to be a bit on the fat side, balding, and more tired than the average person?)
“Wait! What is that?!”
Karin picked up the keyboard and began to inspect it closely.
“You have a KEYBOARD?!”
“Yep.”
“Ha! You’re such a GEEK!”
Karin gave me a punch on the arm.
“You’re damn right. And just for that, you can’t use any of the rest of my gadgets anymore!”
She suddenly looked playfully sheepish
“Alright, alright, I’m sorry”
There was a moment of silence, followed by another question from Karin
“So…can I borrow your charger again? She asked, smiling
“…I didn’t get a chance to charge my phone last night at the Albergue…”
Karin was referring to a portable USB battery pack I was carrying. And ultimately, Karin was right: I was carrying a disproportionate amount of electronics for a hiker on the Camino. I had my smartphone, Nexus 7 tablet, two portable USB battery packs, 5 port USB splitter, digital camera, a myriad of cables for each device, and up until that moment, a waterproof roll-up USB keyboard. All in all it was probably several pounds of equipment, but I used all of them regularly so none of it was completely unnecessary. Plus there were many times when it was crucial for members of our group to get their devices charged quickly to send emails/make calls home, so the battery packs and USB splitter came in immensely handy.
Such is the nature of IT: taken for granted until it’s not there.
Moving onward, we had beautiful views coming down off the mountains into the valley below:
Until we ultimately ended up in the historic city of Ponferrada. After Karin and I got situated in the Albergue and waited for the rest of the crew to arrive, Ken (who of course had been here many times before on his various Camino excursions) wanted to make the most of our short time here and took us on a guided tour of town. The most notable of its landmarks being the very impressive medieval Templar castle:
After touring the castle, we all sat down for dinner at a nice streetside pizzeria. We had just received our drinks and performed the obligatory toast to the day’s successful hike, when we began to hear the beating of drums far in the distance.
I looked around.
“…What the hell?”
The drums continued to draw closer, and people began to line up on either side of the street. A parade, maybe?
Ken nonchalantly provided clarification to the rest of us who were all evidently confused.
“Oh. Yeah. It’s the start of holy week. They do a week of evening celebrations and parades in all the cities and towns throughout the country. It’s probably a holy parade.”
I got up from the table and stood on the edge of the street in the midst of the crowd. Sure enough, that’s exactly what it was:
Note the Templar cross on the robes of the procession celebrants.
Ken elaborated more on this.
“Well you know, when you’re a peasant and it seems like nobody is looking out for you, and you got these group of guys who take it upon themselves to be honest, trustworthy, kindhearted, and make it their job to protect you, you’re probably gonna like them quite a bit. And that’s exactly what’s going on here; the locals have all been fans of the Templar for at least a thousand years…”
Well. That’s a bit enlightening. Especially considering the very restaurant we were eating at was likely older than my own damn country.
Ken continued
“Did you know that the Templar were some of the first people to ever implement a credit system? People who didn’t want to carry money and risked being robbed could get a voucher from any Templar house and redeem their vouchers from other Templar houses wherever they were going?”
Well. Turns out good customer service was still the key to popularity, even back then.
I still would only give their Jesus week 4/5 stars, though. Mainly because even though it was a religious celebration, it was definitely a bit of an inconvenience for pilgrims. Hiking through towns the next day, Karin and I actually encountered a roadblock on the Camino:
The city had shut down the entire street for a large procession. A religious pilgrimage being blocked by a religious procession. Ok, I get it. But seriously, people. Do you mind getting your toy Jesus out of the street? People are trying to walk, here…
Karin and I waited for about 20 minutes for the parade to finish, but there was no sign of it letting up. Instead, we opted for finding an alternate route out of the city and back onto the Camino. After which we were promptly dumped into Spanish wine country:
Home to some of the best red wine known to man. Spanish Tempranillo (or Rioja). Truthfully I used to be strictly a beer aficionado before going to Spain. Then, after having Rioja at least once a day for about 6 weeks, I got on the wine bandwagon and have yet to hop off. But only when it comes to Rioja…in my mind, it’s the last red wine I’ll ever need to try. Because it’s exactly how I want red wine to taste if I’m going to drink it. Look for it at your local grocer or Total Wine today!
But after hiking through wine country, we all ended up in a miniscule town called Trabadelo, positioned directly along a Spanish freeway. Coincidentally also part of the Camino. Although it was only a few miles to the town by the time we hit it, the road walk along a creek/roadway tunnel system was definitely a harsh end to the day:
A place where even the dogs look bored. I was excited to hike out ASAP and get on with what is both the first stop in the final region of Spain on the Camino, as well as the toughest climb of the entire hike: O Cebrerio.
No comments:
Post a Comment