Santiago de Compostela

The final walk into Santiago started well before dawn.

Karin and I, knowing that it was Easter Saturday, and that the 100kers would be swarming into Santiago by the bushel, wanted to hit the Cathedral by mid-day at the latest.  Yet once we were out of town and away from the street lamps, on-trail visibility dropped immediately. We both instinctively turned on our headlamps, but then immediately had the same thought.

“Wait, are we using yours or mine?”

Karin beat me to the punch with the question

“Let’s use yours….we used mine yesterday.”

There really isn’t any point in two people hiking together to use both of their headlamps at once…one is plenty. I shut mine off.

“Hey!

Karin grabbed my arm and motioned for me to look up the trail.

“You see that?!”

There was what appeared to be a dim light a good distance up the trail, though exactly how far we couldn’t tell.

“Huh. I don’t think anyone passed us, and I didn’t see anyone ahead of us when we left town….and if they were, you think we’d have heard them.”

“You know, I heard there was one part of the Camino that goes through a lot of woods…and people have gotten lost …”

I’m guessing this was Karin’s way to try to scare me, but realistically speaking it’s quite difficult to be lost on the Camino. And even if it were easier, being “lost” in the conventional sense less than 20 km from a major city is pretty hard to do.

“Well let’s go check it out. It looks like it’s on the trail anyway…”

We continued hiking along the trail towards the light. As we got closer, it became apparent that these mysterious lights were clearly the work of a good Samaritan:

Candles. Placed on the trail to light the way. It was unclear as to how long they had been lit, but they were a welcome surprise nonetheless.

As we hiked along, we began to encounter more and more candles, in differing arrangements, sizes, and placements. At one point, we even crossed a small footbridge that was lined with them! And, after hiking along for quite some time, we finally caught a glimpse of the mystery candle-man himself.  A guy on a bike. With a prosthetic leg. Who appeared to be homeless, but had much to give the Camino and the Pilgrims nonetheless.  He was lighting candles as we passed him.

After sunrise it became apparent we had lucked out with the weather yet again, and were in for another fine Galician day:

Sunny, warm, and just slightly breezy. Not a bad way to head into Santiago.

The trail was fairly pleasant, too. A shady walk through a Eucalyptus grove:

An easy stroll through a picturesque outlying town:

And at 2 km out, the historical Camino landmark of Lavacolla:

Might not look like much, but back in the day, this little stream was a major pilgrimage stop. “Lavacolla” literally means “to wash private parts”, and was THE final stopping point for pilgrims to wash up before entering Santiago. The requirement, of course, was that pilgrims must make the effort to be clean before completing their Camino and standing before the Apostle James at the Cathedral de Santiago de Compostela.

Needless to say, this is one Camino tradition I had no problem with skipping…James will just have to settle for Old Spice.

We began to pick up the pace as we drew closer to Santiago. The stream was at the base of the last upward section of trail before dropping down into the city for the final descent, and Karin and I wasted no time scaling it:

This is allegedly the first point on the hill at which the spires of the cathedral are visible, but truthfully I didn’t spend too much time looking for them. We were in too much of a rush.

Karin and I took a short break at the top of the mountain. There were of course plenty of strategically placed snack carts/souvenir vendors. I took the opportunity to grab a mid-morning snack and explore a bit while Karin checked out the souvenirs.

Monument at the top of the “mountain” (really a small hill):

After getting my ever-so-brief fill of being a tourist, I went back to find Karin. It was mid morning and the surge of 100k-ers was imminent. We had lucked out so far, but if we stuck around at the top for too long we could easily be caught in it. Heading out sooner rather than later was probably for the best.

“Hey, so we should probably----“

“What do you think of this? Isn’t it cool?!”

Karin showed me a set of earrings made out of euro coins. One of the souvenir vendors was a custom coin ornament dealer.  He was an older looking man, hunched over a set of portable tools and a small workbench hammering away with some kind of metal punch. He paid us no mind, but was clearly very good at his work, and it was cool to see a souvenir vendor who wasn’t just reselling cheap Chinese shit to dumb tourists. And indeed, his wares included necklaces, cufflinks, jewelry…really any kind of ornamental coin-based object you could think of…And he would be happy to sell it to you…for a correspondingly marked up price, of course.

“Yes, yes very cool. But really, we’re about to get caugh---“

“Oh! The lady likes the earrings!”

A young boy (likely about 9 or 10) stepped out from behind the vendor booth.

“You buy for the pretty lady?”

That moment when you realize that the phrase “Spanish economic crisis” means nothing to a determined older craftsman and his younger, hustling, multilingual sidekick.

“Haha, no. Sorry man, but we got somewhere to be…”

The boy frowned, then turned his attention to Karin.

“You like?”

“Yes…But do you have any Swiss coins?”

The boy looked confused.

“Sweeese?”

Karin nodded.

“Sweese…Sweese….”

The boy continued repeating the phrase, appearing more and more frustrated each time he said it. I decided to lend him a hand.

“Si. Swiss. Alemania, Italia, Frances, Mehico…Switzerland?”

I knew that wasn’t the right word, but I figured that would give him a more useful context. I really wanted no part of this transaction, but I knew that the sooner the kid figured out what we were asking, the sooner we could get on our merry way before we were in the middle of a swarm. of pilgrims

“Sweet-zar-lund…AH! SUIZA!”

The boy looked elated, then pointed at Karin and made a cross with his fingers.

“YES!”

Swiss flag. Smart kid.

He ran to the booth and grabbed a large jar full of coins, dumping them out on a small table adjacent to the workbench where the older man was working. He then began to rake through them, vigorously sorting them.

“Karin. We HAVE TO GO!”

“Yes, yes, I know. I just want to see if he has any Swiss stuff.”

“Ok, but even if he does, how long do you think it will it take Maxwell with the silver hammer over there to turn it into something you want?”

“Oh……”

“Yes.  Watch….”

I moved closer to the older man at the workbench.

“Buenas, senor. Cantidad de tiempo a hacer una cosa?”

The boy looked up from his coin clusterfuck long enough to interject.

“Oh! It take him about two hours…mas o menos”

 The older man nodded, then turned back to his work.

“See? We really don’t have that kind of time…”

Karin looked pensive.

“Yes, but I really do want---“

Just then, we heard a strange noise echoing from the base of the hill. It sounded like a faint tapping but grew louder and louder by the second. Suddenly, a contingent of pilgrims on horseback came roaring out of the treeline-covered trail and into the open area on top of the mountain:

They were moving exceptionally fast…almost at a full gallop. Seemed kind of unsafe, but then again, I’m sure they were having a great time. Hell if I had a chance to ride a horse triumphantly into Santiago, the only way I’d want TO do it is at breakneck speed. Because yippee-kay-yay motherfucker.

The brief interlude seemed to jog Karin back to the priorities at hand.

“Ok. Well, we have to go, but can I email you when I get home? I’ll send you a message with what I want, and I’ll mail you the coins and the money…”

The boy seemed happy with this, and appeared to understand our (or really my) desire to get moving. Karin and the boy exchanged email addresses, and we were on our way to the final descent into Santiago!

Though just as we were reaching the outskirts of the city, we encountered this:

Seems that the cavalry got stuck at the pass. Literally. One of the horses had severely injured one of its legs during the ride in. According to one of the riders on site, the transition from the quiet mountain trail to busy city road had taken place too quickly, and the horses got spooked almost as soon as they hit the main roadway. This caused one of the horses to behave erratically, and it ended up falling over a curb. Luckily it appeared that only its lower leg sustained injuries, but it still created one hell of a problem for the horse team to have to deal with LESS THAN A HANDFUL OF KILOMETERS from the Cathedral.

Well. Maybe tear-assing around a crowded city on horseback isn’t the brightest idea after all….oh well. Just gotta keep on keepin’ on.

And indeed we did. Just a short distance away from where we saw the horse:

Was the official entrance to the city of Santiago de Compostela. From this point, the roads/streets began to gradually get more dense, and the signs of a bustling city began to become more and more prominent…Like Saul Goodman:

Apparently he also speaks Spanish….

Karin and I continued along the busy streets until we reached the outskirts of the old city, just as the Cathedral came into view:

I checked my book. 1 kilometer to the Cathedral.

“Alright, chica. One kilometer to go…I suppose this is where I leave you…See you later tonight?”

Karin looked stunned for a moment, then shrugged it off and smiled.

“Yeah. See you tonight!”

We exchanged hugs.

“Buen Camino…” She said, in a kind of somber tone.

“You too….”

I continued on down the Camino, pausing briefly to check my map of the city and lock my trekking poles together. It was clear I wasn’t going to need them for the time being, and I didn’t want them to get in the way or snag on anything in the crowded streets. Then after a brief stroll through the remainder of the old city and taking in the ambiance of  a “modern-medieval” city, I finally arrived:

The Cathedral de Santiago de Compostela. The ongoing construction does kind of rob it of some of its more majestic qualities, but still a remarkable structure none-the-less.

I spent some time simply standing in front of it, taking in the fact that I was only a few steps away. Then, I made my way past the entrance gate:

And up to the front doors:

Closed for construction, but still the marker for the end. I walked up to it, waited a moment, then punched it, firmly.

“Done.”

I could’ve gone inside via the “tourist” entrance underneath the stairs, but I opted to tour the church the following day instead. I figured that they would probably have some fancy Catholic-style religious fanfare that they only bring out for special occasions, and seeing it in full effect would be the most impressive. That being the case, I still had a much more pertinent issue to resolve.

“Alright. Now….Where am I staying tonight?”