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When you're ready to post your story about what happened two days before your Camino, I want to hear it!I write this tentatively. I’m trying to understand and process something that happened to me two days before my Camino began, when I’d just arrived in Spain, but which influenced the whole of my time there. I don’t feel able to talk about it yet, so I hope you won’t mind this post.
I know that perhaps most pilgrims don’t have a mystical experience along the way: that usually, there may be an internal shift, but nothing spooky or externally unusual. I didn’t expect anything other than this myself; I’m pretty down to Earth, although I do have a history of accurate premonitions, for which I am trying to find explanations that I can accept.
I did read a thread here that’s a few years old, with some accounts of experiences outside of the usual.
I wondered whether perhaps there have been more since that thread, and it’s surely a fascinating topic anyway, so…
I wondered, on the Camino (or immediately before or after it) have you encountered ghosts, or sensed presences? Alternatively, maybe particular places spoke to you in ways that seemed to come from beyond your usual senses? Or perhaps you had premonitions whilst on the Camino?
Hi @LholloI write this tentatively. I’m trying to understand and process something that happened to me two days before my Camino began, when I’d just arrived in Spain, but which influenced the whole of my time there. I don’t feel able to talk about it yet, so I hope you won’t mind this post.
I know that perhaps most pilgrims don’t have a mystical experience along the way: that usually, there may be an internal shift, but nothing spooky or externally unusual. I didn’t expect anything other than this myself; I’m pretty down to Earth, although I do have a history of accurate premonitions, for which I am trying to find explanations that I can accept.
I did read a thread here that’s a few years old, with some accounts of experiences outside of the usual.
I wondered whether perhaps there have been more since that thread, and it’s surely a fascinating topic anyway, so…
I wondered, on the Camino (or immediately before or after it) have you encountered ghosts, or sensed presences? Alternatively, maybe particular places spoke to you in ways that seemed to come from beyond your usual senses? Or perhaps you had premonitions whilst on the Camino?
Each of my walks become highly mystical the closer I get to Santiago, no kidding. I usually have one foot one foot rooted in another world (if you know what I mean), but I feel as if I enter an extra special weird energy as soon as I start walking.
Hence my pursuit of longer more remote routes, allowing more time in the 'zone'.
I have heard of the ghost of Lavacola. It was usually the form of a young woman but not always. “She” or “the vision” used to appear before the pilgrims in Lavacola as they hurriedly made final preparations to finish their journey.On my first Camino back in 2009, I was having a long hard day en route to Lavacolla. Beside me appeared a young Korean woman, who offered me a wrapped candy and said “ these are very special Korean candies and will give you energy”. It seemed to help. - in those days we were pretty much aware of everyone on the trail, but no one else ever saw that woman.
I don’t feel I can like or even use a horrified emoji to respond to this. I still have shivers. Thank you for sharing it.The day before Easter 2015, a friend and I were wslking from Astorga to Rabinal. After we left Murias de Rechivaldo, a weird feeling of darkness hit me - hard to describe other than a feeling of creepiness. At one point I said something to my friend that the landscape was giving me the willies, especially over there - pointing vaguely over in the direction of Castrillo de los Polvazares. This isn't something I had ever experienced, but I put it down to imagination and forgot all about it. Until later, when the terrible news came that Denise had disappeared. She was murdered in that same general area - 'over there,' where I was pointing when we had paused to talk about how I was feeling so creeped out. And the day after we walked past.
I'm still not sure what to make of this. But some things don't lend themselves to explanation, or need it.
Oh, this is really shocking! And did you feel so creepy the same day when she was murdered?The day before Easter 2015, a friend and I were wslking from Astorga to Rabinal. After we left Murias de Rechivaldo, a weird feeling of darkness hit me - hard to describe other than a feeling of creepiness. At one point I said something to my friend that the landscape was giving me the willies, especially over there - pointing vaguely over in the direction of Castrillo de los Polvazares. This isn't something I had ever experienced, but I put it down to imagination and forgot all about it. Until later, when the terrible news came that Denise had disappeared. She was murdered in that same general area - 'over there,' where I was pointing when we had paused to talk about how I was feeling so creeped out. And the day after we walked past.
I'm still not sure what to make of this. But some things don't lend themselves to explanation, or need it.
In 2018, while walking somewhere out of Zuburi I was hungry. I had started off without any source of food thinking I’d find a food cart or something. About 3-4 hours in, I knew I was in trouble. I needed food. I called out to God, “Please, I need food”. About 10 minutes after my prayer, over the crest of a hill comes a Spanish man with two over flowing bags of fruit. He says to me, (in English), “Lady, do you need food?” I said, “Yes”. I couldn’t believe it. I turned around to look and he was not in sight. Here’s the picture.I write this tentatively. I’m trying to understand and process something that happened to me two days before my Camino began, when I’d just arrived in Spain, but which influenced the whole of my time there. I don’t feel able to talk about it yet, so I hope you won’t mind this post.
I know that perhaps most pilgrims don’t have a mystical experience along the way: that usually, there may be an internal shift, but nothing spooky or externally unusual. I didn’t expect anything other than this myself; I’m pretty down to Earth, although I do have a history of accurate premonitions, for which I am trying to find explanations that I can accept.
I did read a thread here that’s a few years old, with some accounts of experiences outside of the usual.
I wondered whether perhaps there have been more since that thread, and it’s surely a fascinating topic anyway, so…
I wondered, on the Camino (or immediately before or after it) have you encountered ghosts, or sensed presences? Alternatively, maybe particular places spoke to you in ways that seemed to come from beyond your usual senses? Or perhaps you had premonitions whilst on the Camino?
I get it. When my friend reminded me what I had said, and when, I felt physically ill.I don’t feel I can like or even use a horrified emoji to respond to this.
No, not that I can remember. It was a heavy walking day from.Rabinal to Ponferrada, and the sheer physicality of that is what I mostly recall.And did you feel so creepy the same day when she was murdered?
Nájera!!! This is weird but I had the polar opposite experience. I had my lowest point walking from Logroño to Nájera—injuries, feeling I couldn’t go on—but somehow made it to Nájera, and then the place reenergised me. I wouldn’t have thought it possible but by evening I was walking around the hills there, trying to get good views of the caves (currently closed). I left the next morning vowing to return although I didn’t know why I would do so, because I’d seen most of the sights. I think of it as the turning point of my Camino, a positive one. But… either way, the place has power?!Speaking to @VNwalking "dark feeling" comment (which is a fascinating testimony-I firmly believe our spidey senses pick up events or imprints that our brain cannot compute).
A few years ago, there was a very active thread on the APOC Facebook page regarding places that give you the "willies". One commenter casually mentioned walking into Najera and getting a very dark feeling from that city. Which was affirming because I felt exactly the same way! But the comments exploded underneath the thread. So many people had the "I don't like this town but I don't know why" feeling walking through Najera, including my friend when I mentioned the post to her. She was like "Omg me too! I was going to spend the night but I quickly changed my mind once I got there.
Stranger things.
I’m wondering whether the many experiences of Nájera as somehow a bad place, and my own experience of it as especially good, might come from the fact that very often these two do go hand in hand? For example, the way in times of crisis, people come together to help each other more than ever? Maybe that’s how I felt healed by the place and wanted (still want) to return, whereas other people pick up on the reason that, in the past, people needed that healing? Maybe this is a bit wacky… but there’s a sort of balance to the idea too?Najera has always had a bad vibe for me. I don't understand why.
‘Thin places’… Yes! I was reading this article just a few days ago. (Edit: also the book ‘Explorers of the Infinite’). Your Gran sound marvellous.My Gran told me camino was a "thin" place. That I should be careful when I walked there.
"Thin" in the concept that the veil between this world and the other: Faerie; Beyond; Erehwon, whatever you want to tag, is thinner there. That our capacity to cross, willingly or not, between one level of perception and another is increased and that an accidental voyage into those realms more likely.
My Gran also told me that I "had" to walk camino. That that was what we did. Walked the "thin" paths, danced the labyrinths, sailed the seas that had turned dry and finally took a broken boat to a land that could never exist.
I've never seen a ghost on the roads i've trod but I've heard her sweet, insistent, voice. Walk! For that is what we do.
This is not spooky at all. I felt it was a beautiful answer to my authentic prayer.In 2018, while walking somewhere out of Zuburi I was hungry. I had started off without any source of food thinking I’d find a food cart or something. About 3-4 hours in, I knew I was in trouble. I needed food. I called out to God, “Please, I need food”. About 10 minutes after my prayer, over the crest of a hill comes a Spanish man with two over flowing bags of fruit. He says to me, (in English), “Lady, do you need food?” I said, “Yes”. I couldn’t believe it. I turned around to look and he was not in sight. Here’s the picture.
I have never considered this before, but it is a very simple, yet humbling thought and makes me feel privileged in a new way to have been able to walk these paths. Thank you for sharing your words.But I like to think of the thousands and thousands of people who have walked these trails with their thoughts and sorrows, regrets and hopes.
The thousands of people who preceeded us are hard not to think about, even if only on the level of tangible history. So yes, who knows? Our five paltry senses are quite limited.I like to think of the thousands and thousands of people who have walked these trails with their thoughts and sorrows, regrets and hopes. Who knows....
One particularly weird experience happened to me on the Meseta. I may just post about it when I get a moment.Never had experience of a ghost but not one of 4 CF's passed without each presenting a lot of premonitions and manifesting of presences. (Largely on the Meseta but the stages from Foncebadon through Astorga had their moments.)
And this is from one who, by turn, possesses the imagination, mystical sense, and emotional range of a typical dish towel.
To my way of thinking, it is a gift to be accepted rather than questioned as humans (as we are currently assembled) do not possess the requisite mental tools to delve into understanding the phenomenon.
But...maybe that's just me.
B
You can tell UsRobo wrote: "I have endless stories that if I shared with 'non Pilgrims' they would think I was crazy."
This is absolutely true!!! I also have a lot of "stories" which I can tell hardly anyone....
Ah, those sort of storiesIn the 1970's I farmed Ty-Nant, Islawr-dref, Dolgellau (the curious have sources). When I took the tenancy I was warned by one cloth-capped, waxed-coat wrapped, neighbour that Hugh Pugh would give me no rest. Ty-Nant had an outside facility; dunny, buck-it & chuck-it - you choose. Every night as we sat after supper, around 9 at night we would here the out-house door creak open and bang closed. 10 minutes later the door would creak again and again bang closed...
Needless to say none in the family ever sought relief between 9 & 10 pm
There are dreams, and then there are *dreams*. I used to see a jungian therapist and the moment I started working with her, my dreams went on overdrive. Turned out my dreams held a lot of symbolism and helped me decode some inner workings of mine.Mine isn’t a ghost story, but it’s a little odd. It’s how I ended up on the Camino. My therapist at Walter Reed (the US military hospital in DC) was a civilian who’d once been in the Navy. His particular school of training is psychodynamic (think Freud), and I’m sure was unhappy that I didn’t want to talk about my dreams or childhood—I’d cut him off with “we’re here to stop the nightmares, doc, let’s focus.” I came in one day and said “I don’t know why but I just have to tell you about this really strange dream I had”—he sat up expectantly and I warned him this would be a one time occurrence, “don’t get your hopes up,” but I couldn’t stop thinking about about this dream because it seemed so real and so bizarre at the same time and felt like for some reason he could help. “So don’t blow it” I warned.
I told him “I was running a marathon (he knew I ran them) but it seemed like it was in Mexico not DC. I kept running from one little town to another but instead of a timing chip on my bib it was sort of a scavenger hunt, I had to stop in each town and find someone who handed me a shell but I had to ask for it in Spanish, which I’ve rarely used since leaving California. So I’m running all over collecting all these shells . And there were other runners collecting shells but they weren’t with me, they were on other roads but every so often we’d end up in the same town then split up but it was like we would eventually all finish in the same place once we got all our shells, we were just on different roads. And the shells were all different—different colors and shapes, it was the strangest thing, I don’t know how I knew which door but I’d knock, stumble through Spanish and they’d hand me a shell then on to the next town, over and over; I had no idea why I was in this race, or how I knew to collect shells, or why, and the road seemed crazy, one minute I’d be in the desert, then in the hills, then near a beach. I thought I was getting close to the finish (a beach I assumed was on the pacific because the sun was setting) then I woke up. And was really unhappy I woke up before reaching the end of the race because I thought then I’d understand the whole crazy thing.
I told him “this is your one chance to talk about dreams with me, what do you think?” My doc, who’d been stationed in Spain when in the Navy, looked at me for a minute then said “have you ever heard of the Camino de Santiago?” I told him “no—why?”
He said “you need to read about the Camino de Santiago, it’s in Spain” then wrote it down for me.
What a great thread. I hope others will share.......
This is probably the 'safest' place to do so,
and those who have not walked a Camino may think us nuts!
I love that description of the Camino being a 'thin' place.
And the feeling like we have one foot in this World, and the other, somewhere else.
Wonderful descriptions, both.
It's only on Camino, that I have ever really felt this.
Maybe because we leave our busy day to day lives behind, and interact with the World around us, in a way we were 'designed' to?
Whilst not a 'Religious' person, I'm certainly spiritual.
I believe in God, though don't really follow or understand the various structured 'religions'.
I love to walk alone much of the time, as I think it allows us to 'sense' our surroundings in a much more powerful way. I find myself getting in tune with the energy of the landscape and certainly closer to 'Him'. Whom I talk to frequently.
I always have a 'feeling' I am not alone, whilst actually walking alone, if that makes sense.
That 'someone' is keeping an eye on me, guiding me, sometimes challenging me, often pushing me.
That backdrop/context helps with this next story......
So many 'moments'........ Here is another.
I was on that section just prior to Hospital de Orbigo.
I stopped at a cafe in Villavante for a coffee.
My legs were killing me.
Achilles screaming, shin splints.
I was not having a good day at all, and feeling rather sorry for myself.
As I sat outside having a coffee, another pilgrim walked into the cafe sporting what I thought were some very flashy looking long socks.
They caught my eye, because each sock was a different color.
As I got up to leave and was hoisting on my pack, he came out to sit to have his coffee.
I glanced back as I left with a wave, to realise..........
He had a brightly colored prosthetic leg!
All at the same time I felt shame in feeling despondent over my trivial injuries.
Immensely motivated by how this Pilgrim was walking his Camino.
And altogether stupid, for the way I was feeling.
I took off with a renewed spring in my step, down the old railway line track toward Hospital de Orbigo.
And made a promise to 'Him' not to feel sorry for myself again.
It was a nice warm day, but very cloudy.
Not a breath of wind.
And part way along the track, I paused near a beautiful flowering tree.
Some kind of Cherry Blossom perhaps?
I stood for a moment admiring the tree........
The clouds then parted, and the sun shone down directly on the tree, and me.
And a strong breeze whipped down the track, just for a few seconds,
to create a shower of cherry blossom petals.
I could not remain dry eyed..........
Well now .... I am Irish so I know all about this kinda thing... You should read Finnegans wake and that kind of mystical magic will happen all the time. However we lost most of our ghosts when electricity came to rural IrelandI write this tentatively. I’m trying to understand and process something that happened to me two days before my Camino began, when I’d just arrived in Spain, but which influenced the whole of my time there. I don’t feel able to talk about it yet, so I hope you won’t mind this post.
I know that perhaps most pilgrims don’t have a mystical experience along the way: that usually, there may be an internal shift, but nothing spooky or externally unusual. I didn’t expect anything other than this myself; I’m pretty down to Earth, although I do have a history of accurate premonitions, for which I am trying to find explanations that I can accept.
I did read a thread here that’s a few years old, with some accounts of experiences outside of the usual.
I wondered whether perhaps there have been more since that thread, and it’s surely a fascinating topic anyway, so…
I wondered, on the Camino (or immediately before or after it) have you encountered ghosts, or sensed presences? Alternatively, maybe particular places spoke to you in ways that seemed to come from beyond your usual senses? Or perhaps you had premonitions whilst on the Camino?
I've experienced this... only to eventually discover it was the crinkling of the less-than-full, disposable water bottle I was using. Once I switched to using a Nalgene, no more footsteps behind me.I've walked a few caminos. But on the Frances especially (walking alone) several times I've heard a walker behind me and I've turned to greet them but no one is there...that I can see.
I think she was. She did extraordinary things by our modern standards. She went, with her brothers to support the Republican government of Spain. After the bombing of Guernika she walked into France, cadged a lift in a fishing boat to Guernsey & then home. She then fought every hour of every day with the authorities in charge of the internment camp at Aldermoor where so many Basque women and children were held. She raised a bunch of feisty daughters & some sons that she would divert from the pub by the simple expedient of brewing great beer. When they landed their catch they'd come home to mum's beer instead of squandering their earnings on corporate brews. Grandad taught me to catch rabbit, hare, fowl & fish. Gran taught me to respect every life I took.Your Gran sound marvellous.
Thank you for your sensitivity to this issue.I thought there had been an effort to have this paining removed! It is creepy and has nothing to do with the true story!
Don…thank you for the reminder. The attachment was disturbing to many members.
Small point but that Atlas (Greek/Roman God) held a Globe, and that Roman coins showed the Emperor receiving a globe -- not a disk -- from Jupiter, and as we can actually locate the documents showing the early physics efforts of Greeks, Persians and Romans to calculate the earth's size (showing calculations for a globe/sphere)... we know that the people of the classical era did not think the earth was flat. "Land's end" really just means: we can't see anymore land; the rest is water." Ancient astronomy would have been impossible with a view that we existed in a flat plane.Interesting thread.
What we feel and see, is not neccessarily part of our reality. Take this picture, taken from space:
View attachment 109660
This picture shows that The Earth is obviously flat. However, most people, and all scientists, know that the Earth is round; it is a ball.
"A picture of a thing is not the thing": Chris date, a brilliant mind I happen to have met, conversed, and shared ideas with in our profession, co-founder of the relational database model in computing.
Some people still believe that The Earth is flat. So did the Romans. That is why they didn't dare to go beyond Finisterre (Roman for End of the world (Finish of the Land))
Yes, you are correct: the Greeks and Egyptians knew. They even measured the diameter of the Earth with amazing accuracy. Their knowledge was lost for 1500 years. That's why Galileo Galilei in the middle ages was put into prison and eventually had to refuse his ideas for claiming that the the Earth was round, on threats of a death penalty from the church. Too bad for the survival of thruth.Small point but that Atlas (Greek/Roman God) held a Globe, and that Roman coins showed the Emperor receiving a globe -- not a disk -- from Jupiter, and as we can actually locate the documents showing the early physics efforts of Greeks, Persians and Romans to calculate the earth's size (showing calculations for a globe/sphere)... we know that the people of the classical era did not think the earth was flat. "Land's end" really just means: we can't see anymore land; the rest is water." Ancient astronomy would have been impossible with a view that we existed in a flat plane.
Here's a nice overview: https://courses.lumenlearning.com/astronomy/chapter/ancient-astronomy/
And just to *round out* the point: the Atlantic Ocean is named for Atlas, suggesting that the classical occupants of Iberia knew full well that the sea rounded out the globe.
I enjoyed this account. I’m looking forward to your Part II!Well you asked for it...
I have two stories to tell from different Caminos… and in order to set the mood properly I’ll break it into two separate posts. Part II will feature my experience at the 11th century monastery of Cornellana in 2016, which was even creepier then the following:
I only had 3 weeks vacation time in 2013, so decided to walk an early spring Camino on the Portuguese. Starting in the rain from the Cathedral of Porto on Good Friday in late March, I would encounter flooding and wet weather for 12 days straight. On arrival in Santiago the weather reports looked promising for the next 3-4 days, so I decided to carry on walking to the coast. When I got to the Finnistere/Muxia fork it was a coin flip on which way to go. Since it was after 5pm and I wasn’t sure I could make it to Cee before dark, I decided to head towards Muxia and check out the new Dumbria Municipal Albergue everybody raved about. For those not familiar with the Dumbria Albergue, it was built around 2010 aside a sports pavilion with funds donated by a Spanish millionaire. Very modern design of concreate and glass and facilities to match.
I arrived at the albergue sometime before 7pm and entered through the side door. Everything was dark inside and it was apparent that no one else was there so I picked a bunk in the middle room and laid out my sleeping bag before heading out the km or so to the local little market in Dumbria to find something to eat. When I got back the albergue, there was a lady there who said she was the hospitalero and after collecting my 5 euros, said that she didn’t expect anyone else would be coming and she would lock all the doors for the night before she left. She mentioned that I could exit in the morning through the side door, but be careful that once I sent through the door it would be locked from the outside.
After she left I did a little exploring around the massive albergue. A little too much like a concrete bunker for my liking and although clean and modern, had a cold feel to it, not helped by the cool draft blowing along the long hall corridor. I shut the windows and inner doors with the exception of my room and settled in for the night as darkness fell.
A crash and flash woke me from my deep sleep. A severe thunderstorm, with gale force winds, hail and torrential rain rattled the windows. In the quick flashes of lightning I could see the pine trees out the window bending at severe angles while the wind howled and the roof was pounding from the sound of hail and rain. This went on for 10 minutes and then as quickly as it started, it stopped. Enough excitement for one evening I thought.
As I was drifting off to sleep, the slamming of a door woke me back up with a start. And then the sound of footsteps, up and down the outside corridor. And then the sound that is made when the metal tips of walking sticks hit a hard concrete surface. Click clack click clack. I thought the doors were locked and I was the only one here? I called out, “hello?”. No answer. I got up from my bed and went to turn on the light switch. Nothing… the storm must have knocked out the power (I would later discover that the albergue uses solar power, so why didn't the lights work?). In the dark I reached for my backpack and searched for my headlamp. Couldn’t find it. I had my tablet I use for reading and switched it on. Using the light of the screen I walked out in the corridor and going room to room checked for anyone there. Nothing. Nada. No one. Just me with that damned draft wafting down the hallway. Must be how I got the goosebumps. Laughing to myself, I figured that the wind must have blown a door shut.. must have. I headed back to my room. Shut the door.
I’m not a believer in ghosties and the like, but I admit that spent the rest of the night with my tablet by my side. In the morning at first light I did another tour of the albergue. And of course I was the only one there… no muddy boot marks at my door (which would have made such a better story!).
I'm also eager to hear your account of the monastery in Cornellana- I had quite the experience there this past July!Well you asked for it...
I have two stories to tell from different Caminos… and in order to set the mood properly I’ll break it into two separate posts. Part II will feature my experience at the 11th century monastery of Cornellana in 2016, which was even creepier then the following:
Yes, you are correct: the Greeks and Egyptians knew. They even measured the diameter of the Earth with amazing accuracy. Their knowledge was lost for 1500 years. That's why Galileo Galilei in the middle ages was put into prison and eventually had to refuse his ideas for claiming that the the Earth was round, on threats of a death penalty from the church. Too bad for the survival of thruth.
Edit: The Catholic church refused the idea that the World (Earth) was not the centre of the Universe. Too bad for Galilei, he was right. But it is disappointing how insignificant we humans are in the Universe, however important we think we are. And we keep on trying to kill ourselvses in various ways.
Where we can be placed in (a small segment of) the Universe, is best illustrated in this picture, where the Earth is less than a pixel: We are truly insignificant in the big picture...
View attachment 109666
I suggest we just keep on walking, hope for the best, and continue to live in our little now...
I'd rather walk 10 consecutive Caminos than be subjected to one more tedious read of Finnegans Wake!Well now .... I am Irish so I know all about this kinda thing... You should read Finnegans wake and that kind of mystical magic will happen all the time. However we lost most of our ghosts when electricity came to rural Ireland
I'd rather walk 10 consecutive Caminos than be subjected to one more tedious read of Finnegans Wake!
Read "Grandma's on the Camino" by Mary O'Hara Wyman. A lovely woman in her 70s met her sister, who had passed, in a labyrinth along The Way. She also had an "angel" if you will, that came to her mysteriously when she was in a bad way; I was so intrigued with Mary, and her writing style, I looked her up and we had a lovely lunch in SF. I think special things happen alot. If it was a good thing you experienced, don't try to explain it away or make sense of it, just cherish it and if ever ready, share it.I write this tentatively. I’m trying to understand and process something that happened to me two days before my Camino began, when I’d just arrived in Spain, but which influenced the whole of my time there. I don’t feel able to talk about it yet, so I hope you won’t mind this post.
I know that perhaps most pilgrims don’t have a mystical experience along the way: that usually, there may be an internal shift, but nothing spooky or externally unusual. I didn’t expect anything other than this myself; I’m pretty down to Earth, although I do have a history of accurate premonitions, for which I am trying to find explanations that I can accept.
I did read a thread here that’s a few years old, with some accounts of experiences outside of the usual.
I wondered whether perhaps there have been more since that thread, and it’s surely a fascinating topic anyway, so…
I wondered, on the Camino (or immediately before or after it) have you encountered ghosts, or sensed presences? Alternatively, maybe particular places spoke to you in ways that seemed to come from beyond your usual senses? Or perhaps you had premonitions whilst on the Camino?
Thank youRead "Grandma's on the Camino" by Mary O'Hara Wyman. A lovely woman in her 70s met her sister, who had passed, in a labyrinth along The Way. She also had an "angel" if you will, that came to her mysteriously when she was in a bad way; I was so intrigued with Mary, and her writing style, I looked her up and we had a lovely lunch in SF. I think special things happen alot. If it was a good thing you experienced, don't try to explain it away or make sense of it, just cherish it and if ever ready, share it.
Buen Camino
I enjoyed this account. I’m looking forward to your Part II!
I think I would have slept in the bar under a table before sleeping alone in that beautifully scary looking place.Well then, here is part II...
In 2016 I decided to walk the first part of the Camino Frances and then do a jump from Burgos up to Oviedo (via Leon) to the Camino Primitivo. I was using Liz Brandt’s excellent free mini guide, which at that time had the most recent albergue and food/water guide for the Primitivo. On her second stage recommendation was to spend the night at the 11th century San Salvador Monastery in Cornellana , which was in the process of a multi year renovation but had 4 rooms of 24 beds for 5 euro that included a free washer and dryer. Sold!
I arrived at the Monastery at around 6:30pm and was delighted to see that I was the only one there and had the place to myself for that treasured bottom bunk… so thrilled I took a photo which I enclosed here. I found the albergue to be very clean and the Monastery itself to be quite old, authentic (the restoral work seemed to be centered on not renewing it but rather retaining its’ character) and quite fascinating. It was indeed undergoing renovations and parts of the very large building complex were still in a state of “semi ruins”. After laying out my sleeping bag and getting my wet clothes and laundry, I proceeded to a building across the courtyard to wash my things.
Around 45 minutes later I went back to the albergue and found another pilgrim sitting on a bunk across the room. We chatted briefly (he was coming down off the Norte) and he mentioned he was glad another pilgrim was here since he said the Monastery was haunted. I was going to relay my story about my experience at Dumbria (which was a sleek and modern building and not the normal place for spooky things), but if there was a place for a good ghost story, this was definitely the spot. It was going to get dark soon and having not eaten, invited the other pilgrim to join me to go to the local bar around 500m away and grab a bite. He mentioned that he had already eaten so I headed out. I took a few photos of the exterior of the Monastery on the way out. I had to agree that in many aspects, this would make for a great location for a blockbuster haunted building movie. As I was taking one photo of the Monastery Tower I thought I saw someone in white walking past a window (bottom right below the bells and opposite the clock side). If you pixel peep the photo I posted you can see a bit of the white cloth). Perhaps just a drop sheet blowing in the wind?
The only place I could find food was a little bar, which did not have pilgrim meals (Cornellana did not seem to be a popular spot for pilgrim stays it seemed) but the barkeeper found a can of beans and some sausage. Not the pilgrim feast I envisioned, but beggars can’t be choosers. One other elderly patron was watching a football match on the little bar tv while I had my meal and beer while reading my guide on my phone. It was dark out by the time I left the bar. The sky was overcast and lights were few once you left the little town. I got back to the albergue which was in total darkness and not wanting to disturb the other pilgrim I headed directly to my bunk without turning on any lights. The bunks themselves were those steel spring and mattress variety that creeked and groaned any time you turned over and was a great contrast to the almost eerie silence of the Monastery. Any little sound would be echoed and magnified. Exhausted from my long day, I fell quickly asleep.
Sometime during the night I awoke to what I thought was someone whispering in my ear. I sat up in my bed in the darkness. Hmm, I must have been dreaming. Since it was a straight shot to the bathroom and I was thirsty, I reached for my now empty water bottle beside my bed, and headed to go fill it up. I seem to recall now that the bathroom was fitted with one of those lights on a timer with a motion detector. I did my business in the bathroom, opened the door to head back to the bunk. I left the door ajar enough so a sliver of light escaped, as I didn’t want to disturb the other pilgrim, but wanted enough light to navigate back to my bed since my eyes were desensitized by the bright bathroom light. There was also enough light to see the silhouette other bunk. Enough light to see it was seemingly empty. Wow, that’s weird I thought. I went back to the bathroom and opened the door wider. I was all alone. The other bunk I saw the other pilgrim on was seemingly untouched. The blanket folded. No pack. No paper mattress covering. It was like he was never there.
What happened to the other pilgrim? Did he freak out about being alone while I was gone and decided to “bug out”? He had made a particular point about the Monastery being haunted. And if he had left, what’s up with the whispering that had woken me up?
For days after my experience at Cornellana I wondered about that other pilgrim. I described him to many other pilgrims along the Primitivo route and no one I spoke to remembered seeing him or hearing of him. To those who have never walking the Primitivo especially years ago, the community of walkers in the early spring are generally few but you also get to know and/or see everyone. It’s like this guy was a ghost…
What a story! Thank you for sharing, it gave me chills- and especially so because of my own recent experience there! In that very same room, too. (beautiful photos, you captured the monastery perfectly!)Well then, here is part II...
In 2016 I decided to walk the first part of the Camino Frances and then do a jump from Burgos up to Oviedo (via Leon) to the Camino Primitivo. I was using Liz Brandt’s excellent free mini guide, which at that time had the most recent albergue and food/water guide for the Primitivo. On her second stage recommendation was to spend the night at the 11th century San Salvador Monastery in Cornellana , which was in the process of a multi year renovation but had 4 rooms of 24 beds for 5 euro that included a free washer and dryer. Sold!
I arrived at the Monastery at around 6:30pm and was delighted to see that I was the only one there and had the place to myself for that treasured bottom bunk… so thrilled I took a photo which I enclosed here. I found the albergue to be very clean and the Monastery itself to be quite old, authentic (the restoral work seemed to be centered on not renewing it but rather retaining its’ character) and quite fascinating. It was indeed undergoing renovations and parts of the very large building complex were still in a state of “semi ruins”. After laying out my sleeping bag and getting my wet clothes and laundry, I proceeded to a building across the courtyard to wash my things.
Around 45 minutes later I went back to the albergue and found another pilgrim sitting on a bunk across the room. We chatted briefly (he was coming down off the Norte) and he mentioned he was glad another pilgrim was here since he said the Monastery was haunted. I was going to relay my story about my experience at Dumbria (which was a sleek and modern building and not the normal place for spooky things), but if there was a place for a good ghost story, this was definitely the spot. It was going to get dark soon and having not eaten, invited the other pilgrim to join me to go to the local bar around 500m away and grab a bite. He mentioned that he had already eaten so I headed out. I took a few photos of the exterior of the Monastery on the way out. I had to agree that in many aspects, this would make for a great location for a blockbuster haunted building movie. As I was taking one photo of the Monastery Tower I thought I saw someone in white walking past a window (bottom right below the bells and opposite the clock side). If you pixel peep the photo I posted you can see a bit of the white cloth). Perhaps just a drop sheet blowing in the wind?
The only place I could find food was a little bar, which did not have pilgrim meals (Cornellana did not seem to be a popular spot for pilgrim stays it seemed) but the barkeeper found a can of beans and some sausage. Not the pilgrim feast I envisioned, but beggars can’t be choosers. One other elderly patron was watching a football match on the little bar tv while I had my meal and beer while reading my guide on my phone. It was dark out by the time I left the bar. The sky was overcast and lights were few once you left the little town. I got back to the albergue which was in total darkness and not wanting to disturb the other pilgrim I headed directly to my bunk without turning on any lights. The bunks themselves were those steel spring and mattress variety that creeked and groaned any time you turned over and was a great contrast to the almost eerie silence of the Monastery. Any little sound would be echoed and magnified. Exhausted from my long day, I fell quickly asleep.
Sometime during the night I awoke to what I thought was someone whispering in my ear.
You might try buying a Landrover. Once one of those gets to 200k miles you start believing that there must be a God.
Speechless!1981 in a Youth Hostel somewhere in Ontario, Canada. I was sitting in the dining room/kitchen area at a table reading a newspaper. The room had three doors, two directly to the outside were behind me. The third was an internal door in front of me.
I had been sitting there reading the newspaper for about 40 minutes, waiting for something or other. There was someone sitting next to me that I didn't know.
While I sat there, reading several people had come into the room from outside, behind me, had done stuff in the kitchen area and left. I had got used to that and barely noticed or looked up from the paper.
Then the door in front of me swung open and as it did so, a feeling hit me, hard, almost knocking me off my chair and forcing me to look up.
A somewhat nondescript man walked into the room, staring at me as he walked past to the kitchen area where he paused. He stood there for a while, occasionally looking at me, seeming to think and then left again through the same door.
There were no sounds other than the sound of the door opening and the sounds of him walking across the room, back again and the door closing. Nothing was said. Through out this time my gaze was fixed on him.
After he left the person next to me said "he is a murderer and wanted by the police". I don't know how they knew this, perhaps there had been a news item.
About 10 minutes later the reception person walked in an announced that the police had been called to arrest one of the guests and they had found blood in the boot of his car.
I recall to this day the cold hard feeling that hit me that day as he entered the room.
Me, too!,,,"I don't like this town but I don't know why" feeling walking through Najera, including my friend when I mentioned the post to her. She was like "Omg me too! I was going to spend the night but quickly changed my mind…”
2500 miles from Canterbury to Rome and Paris to Santiago: no ghosts, no premonitions, no altered senses. Nada. Just tired feet.I write this tentatively. I’m trying to understand and process something that happened to me two days before my Camino began, when I’d just arrived in Spain, but which influenced the whole of my time there. I don’t feel able to talk about it yet, so I hope you won’t mind this post.
I know that perhaps most pilgrims don’t have a mystical experience along the way: that usually, there may be an internal shift, but nothing spooky or externally unusual. I didn’t expect anything other than this myself; I’m pretty down to Earth, although I do have a history of accurate premonitions, for which I am trying to find explanations that I can accept.
I did read a thread here that’s a few years old, with some accounts of experiences outside of the usual.
I wondered whether perhaps there have been more since that thread, and it’s surely a fascinating topic anyway, so…
I wondered, on the Camino (or immediately before or after it) have you encountered ghosts, or sensed presences? Alternatively, maybe particular places spoke to you in ways that seemed to come from beyond your usual senses? Or perhaps you had premonitions whilst on the Camino?
What a story! Thank you for sharing, it gave me chills- and especially so because of my own recent experience there! In that very same room, too. (beautiful photos, you captured the monastery perfectly!)
I've walked a few caminos. But on the Frances especially (walking alone) several times I've heard a walker behind me and I've turned to greet them but no one is there...that I can see.
Of course, this absolutely could be my overactive imagination. But I like to think of the thousands and thousands of people who have walked these trails with their thoughts and sorrows, regrets and hopes. Who knows....
Another surprising conjunction of presence occured one stormy night late January 2009 in Trinidad de Arre at the Marist fathers' albergue as I was writing in the common room a blog post on happenstance, chance encounter and camino serendipity.
At the very moment that I defined the word 'serendipity' another pilgrim knocked at the door. Happily speaking Italian he was welcomed by two Spanish pilgrims. The Italian entered the common room, turned to say 'buona sera' to me and then enthusiastically shouted 'Margaret'! Imagine my delight upon realizing that he was Mario whom I had last seen during breakfast at Burguete the year before in 2008!! Another fortuitous chance encounter indeed.
We and a French pilgrim, Polo, had met on the little train going to St Jean Pied de Port and together walked up the Valcarlos route to Roncesvalles. As Mario and I nostalgically recollected those 'good old times' we tentatively promised to meet again "next year on the camino". ...Although our paths have never re-crossed, one never knows !
If you’ve made it this far down this thread you are probably mesmerized by all the ghost stories. Might wanna skip my contribution because I don’t believe in ghosts. I do believe in God. And I believe he speaks to us. The following is true and it did change my life.I write this tentatively. I’m trying to understand and process something that happened to me two days before my Camino began, when I’d just arrived in Spain, but which influenced the whole of my time there. I don’t feel able to talk about it yet, so I hope you won’t mind this post.
I know that perhaps most pilgrims don’t have a mystical experience along the way: that usually, there may be an internal shift, but nothing spooky or externally unusual. I didn’t expect anything other than this myself; I’m pretty down to Earth, although I do have a history of accurate premonitions, for which I am trying to find explanations that I can accept.
I did read a thread here that’s a few years old, with some accounts of experiences outside of the usual.
I wondered whether perhaps there have been more since that thread, and it’s surely a fascinating topic anyway, so…
I wondered, on the Camino (or immediately before or after it) have you encountered ghosts, or sensed presences? Alternatively, maybe particular places spoke to you in ways that seemed to come from beyond your usual senses? Or perhaps you had premonitions whilst on the Camino?
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