Turga
Camino tortuga
- Time of past OR future Camino
. . . . . . . . .
Having returned from my first Camino just a few days ago, I have not yet really got my thoughts together to some coherent impression (if ever that happens) so this is just some random observations and impressions.
I found it so much easier to walk on the Camino than on my training walks back home. Being a âflat-landerâ I had had some fear of the encounter with the mountains, but even there I felt better. Something made my walk seem easier⊠Maybe just the beauty of the nature, maybe the thought that there was a goal, maybe the thought, that I was walking in the footsteps of millions of other pilgrims, maybe something else; I donât know. And blisters? Not the slightest sign. Not even on the day that I had to leave in the morning on a 30 km. stretch with socks that were not all dry (I had made the mistake of washing all three pairs of socks the evening before).
Until after Sarria, I walked alone most of the time. Maybe because I was âout of syncâ with the majority of pilgrims, as I generally started walking between 7:30 and 8 oâclock. And that was what I wanted, I wanted to walk alone but I never felt lonely. I specifically recall the quite challenging walk from Rabanal del Camino to Molinaseca. The weather was dramatic, quite cool with a strong wind pushing heavy clouds across the sky making the colors of the mountainsides change rapidly from almost black to bright green. Light showers now and then and gusts of wind that would almost blow you off the track. I really enjoyed walking there by myself as well as on the many other beautiful stretches.
Then how nice it was to reach the destination, unload the backpack, go to some bar and have a âcerveza grandeâ and chat with the other pilgrims, some of which I met again and again, before the daily ritual of showering and washing clothes.
I had chosen a âminimum-communication approachâ in the sense, that I had told family and friends, that they should only contact me if really necessary. The only electronic device I had with me was my cellphone, primarily to use as a camera and secondarily in case of emergency. No mails, no SMSâes, no TV, no news - except what I heard on the grapevine on the way.
The weather was generally very good for walking. Except for the first 4-5 days when it was very hot after midday. The mornings were mostly cool until around noon and the afternoons pleasant 22-25 centigrade with drifting clouds and sun and a light wind. There were 3 or 4 days with thunderstorms and heavy rain, but it happened after 5 PM when I was long since at my destination for the day. The walk out of OâCebreiro was an exception. An ice-cold morning with dense fog and a stiff wind that drained the heat out of you in 30 seconds. I canât remember the last time I felt so cold. I didnât start to feel warm again until after the descent from Alto do Poio towards Triacastela.
I arrived at the Cathedral in Santiago from A Rua around 2 PM and after having checked in to my nice hotel on Plaza San Miguel Dos Agros, I went to the Pilgrims Office to claim my Compostela. But I was simply put off by the length of the waiting line stretching out of the building and half way around the inner yard. So I decided to return early the next morning hoping to âbeat the crowdâ, but for various reasons I didnât get there until after 10 PM the next day and the line was even longer stretching out in the yard and down the stairs to the street below. And there was a light rain too. Close to two hours it took before I finally got to the counter so I missed the Pilgrimâs Mass that day.
I had booked a bus excursion to Finisterre and Muxia the next day, but I decided to cancel it. First of all because I wanted to attend the Pilgrimâs Mass but also because I realized, that I would rather walk that way someday, maybe next spring.
I guess I belong to the category (if youâll pardon the expression) that is sometimes denoted ânon-practicing Christiansâ but still I found the Pilgrimâs Mass to be an emotional experience. My limited Spanish didnât allow me to grasp all of it, but at some point near the end of the ceremony, everybody stood up, turned to each other, shook hands and said âgraciasâ. A young woman on the row behind me shook my hand, said âgraciasâ and handed me a small picture of The Virgin. I donât know why but it was very sweet.
I spend the rest of the day just strolling around in the beautiful old part of Santiago together with all the other tourists with a good feeling of being ready to go home.
(And yes, I tried âPulpoâ and I didnât much like it
)
The only photo of me from my camino:
I found it so much easier to walk on the Camino than on my training walks back home. Being a âflat-landerâ I had had some fear of the encounter with the mountains, but even there I felt better. Something made my walk seem easier⊠Maybe just the beauty of the nature, maybe the thought that there was a goal, maybe the thought, that I was walking in the footsteps of millions of other pilgrims, maybe something else; I donât know. And blisters? Not the slightest sign. Not even on the day that I had to leave in the morning on a 30 km. stretch with socks that were not all dry (I had made the mistake of washing all three pairs of socks the evening before).
Until after Sarria, I walked alone most of the time. Maybe because I was âout of syncâ with the majority of pilgrims, as I generally started walking between 7:30 and 8 oâclock. And that was what I wanted, I wanted to walk alone but I never felt lonely. I specifically recall the quite challenging walk from Rabanal del Camino to Molinaseca. The weather was dramatic, quite cool with a strong wind pushing heavy clouds across the sky making the colors of the mountainsides change rapidly from almost black to bright green. Light showers now and then and gusts of wind that would almost blow you off the track. I really enjoyed walking there by myself as well as on the many other beautiful stretches.
Then how nice it was to reach the destination, unload the backpack, go to some bar and have a âcerveza grandeâ and chat with the other pilgrims, some of which I met again and again, before the daily ritual of showering and washing clothes.
I had chosen a âminimum-communication approachâ in the sense, that I had told family and friends, that they should only contact me if really necessary. The only electronic device I had with me was my cellphone, primarily to use as a camera and secondarily in case of emergency. No mails, no SMSâes, no TV, no news - except what I heard on the grapevine on the way.
The weather was generally very good for walking. Except for the first 4-5 days when it was very hot after midday. The mornings were mostly cool until around noon and the afternoons pleasant 22-25 centigrade with drifting clouds and sun and a light wind. There were 3 or 4 days with thunderstorms and heavy rain, but it happened after 5 PM when I was long since at my destination for the day. The walk out of OâCebreiro was an exception. An ice-cold morning with dense fog and a stiff wind that drained the heat out of you in 30 seconds. I canât remember the last time I felt so cold. I didnât start to feel warm again until after the descent from Alto do Poio towards Triacastela.
I arrived at the Cathedral in Santiago from A Rua around 2 PM and after having checked in to my nice hotel on Plaza San Miguel Dos Agros, I went to the Pilgrims Office to claim my Compostela. But I was simply put off by the length of the waiting line stretching out of the building and half way around the inner yard. So I decided to return early the next morning hoping to âbeat the crowdâ, but for various reasons I didnât get there until after 10 PM the next day and the line was even longer stretching out in the yard and down the stairs to the street below. And there was a light rain too. Close to two hours it took before I finally got to the counter so I missed the Pilgrimâs Mass that day.
I had booked a bus excursion to Finisterre and Muxia the next day, but I decided to cancel it. First of all because I wanted to attend the Pilgrimâs Mass but also because I realized, that I would rather walk that way someday, maybe next spring.
I guess I belong to the category (if youâll pardon the expression) that is sometimes denoted ânon-practicing Christiansâ but still I found the Pilgrimâs Mass to be an emotional experience. My limited Spanish didnât allow me to grasp all of it, but at some point near the end of the ceremony, everybody stood up, turned to each other, shook hands and said âgraciasâ. A young woman on the row behind me shook my hand, said âgraciasâ and handed me a small picture of The Virgin. I donât know why but it was very sweet.
I spend the rest of the day just strolling around in the beautiful old part of Santiago together with all the other tourists with a good feeling of being ready to go home.
(And yes, I tried âPulpoâ and I didnât much like it
)The only photo of me from my camino:
