Blog Entries from Along the Camino de Santiago

El domingo me levanté a eso de las 5:30 de la mañana para
ver amanecer pedaleando siguiendo la Variante espiritual del camino de Santiago  del Salnés.

La verdad es que soy un poco lento y entre que me levanto,desayuno,me visto y preparo la bici me tiro una hora...

Salí de casa a las 6:30 con las luces encendidas y el chaleco reflectante. A esas horas y siendo domingo, aunque apenas hay coches circulando por la ciudad, siempre da algo de respeto que se cruce algún borracho o drogado al volante.

En 4 minutos ya estaba en la zona vieja . Todavía quedaban algunas discotecas abiertas con gente entrando y saliendo armando algo de jaleo debido al alcohol. Afortunadamente ninguno/a se interpuso en mi camino...

El cielo empezaba a clarear mientras atravesaba el puente de Las Corrientes para tomar el camino que cruza la Xunqueira de Alba.

En poco conecté la Xunqueira con el camino portugués a Santiago (ambos van paralelos).

Tras cargar mi mochila de agua llegué al punto donde se separan el camino original con la variante espiritual del Salnés. Como algún idiota tachó las flechas que indican dicha variante pintaron posteriormente un Salnés bien grande en una farola.

Subí algunas cuestas viendo la ciudad despertando al fondo y una carretera  habitualmente atestada de tráfico ahora vacía de coches y camiones. Estuve unos pocos minutos apostado en la barandilla del puente de la foto inferior  sin ver pasar ni un alma. Parecía la escena de una película post-apocalíptica. Todo en silencio. Ni siquiera escuché el típico rumor de la ciudad.

Pontevedra.
Continué camino sin parar y sin encontrarme con nadie pasando veloz por el monasterio de Poio hasta el lugar conocido como La Seca.

La isla de Tambo y Combarro vistas desde La Seca.
Empezaban a asomar tímidamente algunos rayos de sol,así que me di prisa por llegar a Combarro.
Me hacía ilusión ver amanecer entre sus hórreos.

Combarro.

Combarro tenía a estas horas ( 7:50 a.m.) sus empedradas callejuelas desiertas,sin turistas ni gentes del lugar en sus quehaceres cotidianos o vendiendo productos típicos.  Me sentí el último hombre vivo de la Tierra deambulando por un lugar privilegiado.

Este sentimiento pronto fue roto por la presencia de una vieja escudriñando desde lo lejos lo que hacía o dejaba de hacer. Y es que por muy solitario que parezca un lugar siempre hay alguien acechando tras la cortina de una ventana o en cualquier esquina agazapado...

Algunos restaurantes todavía sin abrir tenías sus sillas y mesas perfectamente colocadas en las terrazas. Tendederos con ropa en las calles y objetos cotidianos dejados al azar en las calzadas daban la impresión que todo el mundo hubiera desaparecido o abandonado el lugar misteriosamente.

En fin,un gustazo disfrutar Combarro de esta manera viendo amanecer...

Bodega O Bocoi.  Lugar recomendable.  No me pagan por hacerles publicidad pero allí se come estupendo.

Y ahora toca la parte más dura de este camino:
¡ascender por las faldas del monte Castrove hacia el mirador de Loureiro!!...

Subí poco a poco en total soledad. La cima aparecía cubierta de brumas por el lugar que luego tocaría atravesar por pistas forestales...

Como siempre unas magníficas vistas desde el mirador,aunque las brumas matinales no dejaban contemplarlas en todo su esplendor.

En el Monasterio de Armenteira hice un alto para abrigarme con un  corta-vientos y tomar una barrita de cereales. Eran las 9:00 a.m. y tocaba después bajar rápidamente por un carril-bici hacia la Ruta de la Piedra y el Agua.

Por el sendero me topé con pequeños grupos de ciclistas dirección monte Castrove.

Aldea Labrega.
Aldea Labrega,junto al sendero. Una visión en piedra de la vida rural gallega. Lugar curioso e ideal para descansar un poco si vas a pie.

Seguí camino hacia Barrantes,Pontearnelas llegando a Vilanova de Arousa a eso de las 11:00 de la mañana.

Buen barco sería para la Traslatio.
En el puerto se coge un ferry hacia Pontecesures conmemorando la Traslatio del Apóstol.
Información de horarios y precios: Telf. 616-70-17-98.
También posibilidad de una lancha a cargo de protección civil (10 euros.) Telf. 616-28-62-17.
Pregunté por el polideportivo municipal para hacer fotos y ubicar en mi gps el nuevo albergue de peregrinos.

Fácil acceso situado muy cerca del edificio del Concello,junto a un colegio. En el mismo polideportivo también están los de protección civil.

Entrando a la izquierda subiendo unas escaleras.

Recomendable callejear por el casco viejo de esta localidad marinera y visitar la Casa del Cuadrante,antigua vivienda del escritor Valle-Inclán. Hoy es un museo dedicado al escritor.

Curioso balcón con motivos marineros en el casco antiguo.
Viviendas típicas de Vilanova.

Tras la visita a esta villa fui por comarcal hasta Villagarcía de Arousa. Allí cogí un tren rumbo a Pontevedra ya que el tiempo cambió amenazaba lluvia inminente.

El billete me costó 3,90 euros. Viajó junto a mi bici dos más con alforjas. Era una pareja de extranjeros haciendo el camino de Santiago...

Por cierto,la estación estaba en obras y menuda tenían montada allí con una enorme pasarela para acceder a los andenes. Estuve esperando una hora ( el tren salía a as 14:00 ) con  viento bastante frío...la pasarela daba algo de mal rollo porque parecía un poco endeble.

It is a month since we set off on our ‘Caracole’ Camino and
I am still processing many of the experiences, emotions, concerns and
celebrations. 

Once the ground work for the walk was in place – arrival
date set, rooms booked, stages worked out, taxi numbers listed – it was all up
to the group members to make it happen.  And happen it did!

The team ‘Caracoles’ was a great team and

Stepping on to Inishmore, the largest of the Aran Islands and a 45 minute ferry ride from Galway, is like going back in time. This island of about 800 people (the population grows to more than 1,000 in the summer) is Gaeltachtai, which means Irish (Gaelic) is still the predominant language. The island didn’t get electricity until 1972. The one bank opens every Wednesday for four hours. Inishmore has one doctor, one police officer, and five bars. In the words of our local guide, “We have our priorities right!”
Island coastline with its sheer cliffs.
Closer look at the cliff drop.
Spotted this seal sunning itself in the bay.
This is a place of such desolate beauty that it makes your heart hurt. It’s a place where people have eked out a living on nothing but rock. The stunning 2,000 year old Dun Aengus fort was built of rock on a cliff overlooking the Atlantic. The walls that crisscross every inch of the island were constructed of rock. And the most delicious food is grown here in soil built upon the rock over centuries. This was done by people collecting sand from the beaches, composting seaweed, and digging what little dirt they could find from between the cracks of rocks. There was a film made in the 1930s called “The Man of Aran” that shows life on the island. Definitely worth watching!
Stone walls section off various plots and pastures.
No mortar
Part of the old Dun Aengus fort
Our guide said because of the salt content in the seaweed, the vegetables take on a special taste; not salty but incredibly flavourful. I can vouch for that…I had a bowl of vegetable soup that was probably the culinary highlight of my trip. It was exquisite.
Wildflowers in the restaurant where I had my delicious bowl of vegetable soup.
As a place that has relied on the sea for sustenance, Inishmore is steeped in tragedy. Our guide Michael told us that every single person on the island has lost someone to the sea. I later asked him if people could still make a living fishing, and he sadly shook his head. He was a commercial fisherman for seven years and says he loved it. He had to give it up to pay the bills. That’s when he became a tour guide. The fellow driving the tour bus behind ours had the very same story to tell. “The Atlantic takes no prisoners,” our guide said.
Some old headstones from the 6th and 7th centuries.
About half a dozen women on the island knit these sweaters that incorporate various patterns unique to the island. Beautiful work!

Back home after two wonderful weeks in Ireland. There is so much to write about, but I think the logical place for me to start is Kilmainham Gaol (Jail) in Dublin. It, more than any other place I saw there, sums up the story of Ireland’s social and political history from the late 1700s onward.
The oldest part of the jail (known as the West Wing) opened in 1796 and was considered state of the art at the time. Hard to believe, viewed with modern eyes. There was no glass in the barred windows, and prisoners were given one candle every two weeks for warmth. If their candle burned out before the two weeks was up, they were out of luck.
A section of the East Wing
Many of the people housed at the prison in the early to mid-1800s were debtors. With the coming of the Great Potato Famine, children as young as six or seven were arrested for stealing a loaf of bread or some such. Sadly, these children had a better chance of surviving in jail, since at least they had a roof over their heads and some meagre food rations. Outside of jail, they likely would have starved. At the peak of the Famine, jail cells were crowded with five or six people when they were designed for one. The overflow slept in the dark, dank hallways.
Looking through the “peep hole” into one of the cells in the old section of the jail.
In 1864, a new section of the jail known as ”the East Wing” opened. While conditions were more humane, the old wing continued to be used and held prisoners that were to be executed.
The new wing.
This included the 15 or so men who led the Easter Uprising in 1916 and who were executed by firing squad. Essentially this group took a stand at the city’s main post office, declaring Ireland to be a republic separate from England. British troops moved in and quashed the uprising within six days, and the leaders were carted off to the jail and very soon after were killed.
There are some heartbreaking stories related to this period. While visiting a tiny museum in Sligo, I came across a letter that one of the leaders – Patrick Pearce - had written to his mother just hours before he was shot. Apparently the authorities refused to allow this letter to be delivered to her, but it later came to light. Patrick writes, in part:
I have just received Holy Communion. I am happy except for the great grief of parting with you. This is the death I should have asked for if God had given me the choice of all deaths to die…a soldier’s death for Ireland and Freedom.
We have done right. People will say hard things of us now, but later on they will praise us. Do not grieve for all this but think of it as a sacrifice which God asked of me and of you.
Good bye again Dear Mother. May God bless you for your great love for me and your great faith, and may He remember all that you have so bravely suffered. I hope soon to see Papa, and in a little while we shall be all together again. I have no words to tell you of my love of you and how my heart yearns to you all. I will call to you in my heart at the last moment.
Your Son, Pat
Another of the leaders, Joseph Plunkett married his sweetheart Grace Gilfford just hours before he was executed. They were married in the chapel and he was then led away. They had about 10 minutes together, but the story goes that the guard kept interrupting them, so really they had no time alone at all. Grace would later become a prisoner at the jail during the Civil War.
Then there’s the story of James Connolly, another of the Easter Uprising leaders. He was badly injured during the fighting and the doctor said he only had a day or two to live, but the authorities insisted on executing him anyway. He was unable to stand in front of the firing squad, so they hauled him into the exercise yard on a stretcher, tied him upright to a chair, and shot him. His body was thrown in a mass grave with no coffin along with the other leaders.
The exercise yard where most of the leaders of the Easter Uprising were shot.
It was in part because of how James Connolly and others were treated that public sentiment turned against the English. Until then there hadn’t been much support for the uprising, but after the executions that all changed, and soon after Ireland gained its independence.
Of course the fighting didn’t end there, and there were more executions in this jail at the hands of the Irish than there ever were when it was under British control. More on that chapter of Ireland’s history coming soon.

Il faut cultiver notre jardin. VOLTAIRE
We've seen whirligig beetles, pond skaters, water boatmen and other bugs in our newly-refurbished pond — plus the first frog yesterday evening — so it seems to be in good health. A water lily leaf shot up from the bottom in just a week. It still looks a bit sparse, but it's early days yet... 

Roses are some of my favourite garden flowers, especially climbing roses...

I've been spending a lot of time in the garden recently — as an escape from stress, I think. Gardening is such a relaxing and pleasurable activity. (Now, I wouldn't have said that when I was younger!)

Now the sun is out, the weather is hot and dry and so it was a perfect day to walk around this beautiful city of Madrid. Our only goal was to find again the tapas marketplace we had visited four years ago. We had confidence that it would not be hard to find because we knew it was near the Playa Mayor...and it was exactly where we left it four years ago. Tapas, wine and this time there were even a couple of vegetarian options! Madrid - a little busier than the Camino. Tapas Market Yogurt Shooters!   Central Madrid is a beautiful vibrant city that mixes busy high traffic avenues and wide tree lined boulevards with all these twisty turny narrow streets which every few blocks open out into a lovely welcoming square and the squares are usually rimmed with lots open patio restaurants and cafés. So a day of touring Madrid is a day of drifting from one café to another and we do that very well.   In another Camino coincidence as we were walking along one small boulevard we ran into Fransisco and Jeanette, the two American hospitalero volunteers we had recently met in Santiago at the Pilgrims' Office. Now what are the chances of being tourists, foreigners in fact, in one of the largest cities of the world and meeting someone you know? Serendipity!
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The difficulties of Panama are far behind me now, more than 500 kilometers.  I've finally gotten all of the tale told and tallied, accessible either from the blog post or the list of pages to the right.  Forgive the typos and misspellings and roughness; conditions are never ideal for word processing during a pilgrimage.  I'll polish it after I get to Mexico.  I'm behind on updating the Route Day-by-Day on the right, but I'll get to it soon.  My little notebook took a beating through the jungle and though the pages haven't dried yet, the ink smeared quite a bit.

Funny thing as I traveled through the west of Panama during my stipulated 10 days to exit the country - at every one of the routine military checkpoints and again at the border crossing, every time they asked to see my passport and I explained my unorthodox entry through the Darien, it was always met with cheers and signs of pride and respect.  I was a bit nervous at the final encounter with the immigration authorities at the border as they demanded I enter the office rather than speak through the window like everyone else.  Uh oh, more trouble... no, an offer of cookies and coffee, sit, relax, pilgrim.  I got an exit stamp from Panama in my passport, absent its entry stamp which nicely balances the entry stamp from Colombia, absent its exit mate.  Ah well.

Costa Rica lives up to its name.  The lifestyle and culture reflect its relative wealth.  Still finding no other long-distance pilgrims, there is an annual pilgrimage to a shrine of Los Angeles near the capital of San Jose.  Every year, thousands trod along highways in early August to reach the beautiful old enormous church made of wood, though here, instead of being called peregrinos, they're oddly called 'romeros', and many establishments have signs out front offering free coffee to romeros on foot.  That's me =)

The heat of the morning is washed away with the violent storms of the rainy season afternoons.  I don't mind.  Costa Rica will be behind me in another week, then a quick succession of Nicaragua, Honduras and El Salvador before hitting Guatamala and finally Mexico.  Revised estimated arrival is August 7th, San Cayetano's day.

I had a small celebration this week as a downpour hit suddenly along a lovely mountain road through a national protected area.  A short distance from a town, a fellow pulled up in a jeep next to me as I was frantically pulling my raincover over my pack.  Jump in, there's a café a few kilometers ahead.  Get out of the rain.  You bet.  Over coffee and a giant pancake served cold and eaten with fingers, we celebrated my passing the 10,000-kilometer mark.  That's a big number.  Whoo-eee.

Yeah!  We made it, we are done walking for now.  It turned out to be a very hot day, although last night it was in the 40's.  We started about 7:45 walking down from the hillside town and under a big road to find an old railroad track to follow up to a path that lead up over a hill and though farmland most of the way.  We did find a small town to have coffee and a strange but good sandwich of hard bread and bacon or pancetta . 
Note my magic pink runners recover socks.
 It started to get exciting when we knew we were close to Santa Maria de Eunate and more so when we walked through the arbor and it appeared.  

Eunate is Basque for "a hundred doors".  The chapel dates from 1170.  We don't know why but you are suppose to walk around it without your shoes...the stones on edge are suppose to heal your feet... I'm for that.  I'll tell you, this time around on day 20 was a lot easier on my feet than in 2010 when it was only on day 4 or five.

So we got into Puente la Reina about 1:30 and found are Spanish buddies sitting in a little park by the albergue ...we said good-by with hugs like old friends and walked on to explore the town and decide how to celebrate and what to do next.  
Ended up getting a bus to Pamplona, a bus from there to the train station and are now on a train to Leon where we plan on resting for a few days before heading for Barcelona.
It will take some time to say how we feel about this Camino because it was so different from the last one. Al and I both agree it is so special to spend such intense time with each other where we are mutually dependent on each other always remembering the pilgrim attitude of no complaints and always to showing kindness.  There is just no better way to experience nature than up close walking for days, everyday as though that's the only thing that matters.  You see  plants and birds differently  when you have time to notice that a little bird flying from one bush to another doesn't lift up "his landing gear."On the train now, I'm remembering how long this took by foot on the last Camino and now it's taking only 4 hrs....but I can't feel the earth on my feet.

El domingo volví a salir en bici para
ir al monte Castrove siguiendo la variante espiritual del camino portugués: el Camiño ao Salnés.

Salí tarde de casa con un bocadillo en la mochila pensando en comerlo una vez llegado arriba del Castrove,en el mirador de Loureiro.

Hacía un día estupendo,si no fuera por la tos habría ido mucho más lejos con la bici.
Tengo ganas de superar mi propio récord de 182 km en un día. ( a ser posible tocando poco asfalto a la vuelta).

El asfalto para una bici de montaña con cubiertas gruesas y tacos es duro,bastante duro.
No hay comparación con una de carretera que están diseñadas para ese mismo fin.

Iglesia San Pedro de Campañó.Detalle.Pila bautismal en el exterior.
Por fin colocaron carteles de madera con flecha y vieira en el bosque previo a la iglesia de Campañó.
Desde la misma iglesia de Campañó se ven las antenas ( el pico más elevado ) del monte Castrove.

Seguí fácilmente las indicaciones hasta el Monasterio San Juan de Poio,el cual adornaba su entrada con mantos del Corpus.

Llené mi mochila de agua en la refrescante fuente que hay en sus inmediaciones y continué pedaleando hacia La Seca y Combarro.

Adornos del Corpus.
La parte más dura de esta variante espiritual del Camino de Santiago portugués es la parte que sube de Combarro al mirador de Loureiro en el monte Castrove. Grandes cuestas por asfalto y cemento.

Para una bici sin alforjas tampoco es para tanto. Lo más duro es la principio mientras vamos saliendo de Combarro. Una vez dejadas atrás las callejuelas y casas la subida  al monte se lleva bien. Se hace por un solitario camino asfaltado.

Mirador de Loureiro.
Arriba del mirador vemos todo lo recorrido y ascendido desde Pontevedra que no es poco. Disfrutamos de unas maravillosas vistas de Pontevedra,La Seca,Combarro y al otro extremo de la ría Marín,la isla de Tambo...

Aprovechando el solecito...Comí el bocadillo de mortadela con aceitunas y descansé un rato...

Ahora en vez de seguir por el Camiño ao Salnés seguí ascendiendo hasta tomar una pista forestal para introducirme en lo salvaje y disfrutar de la tranquilidad del monte. Y así estuve un buen rato subiendo y bajando por pistas,senderos,caminos...pero a ritmo muy tranquilo. La tos me fue respetando.

La Seca y Pontevedra a vista de pájaro.

Bajé del monte por un camino diferente enlazando de nuevo con la ruta de ida rumbo a Pontevedra...

Por cierto,tengo que cambiar el sillín por el otro blanco que llevaba hace tiempo. El original de mi bici que puse este fin de semana me destroza el culo....El de color blanco es un sillín de mujer,más ancho...