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Would you believe that I walked by myself up O Cebreio and half way I stood and ate the silence and the beauty of the world.Yes, what was your most memorable moment on any Camino but not related to walking (past something etc.)?
For me it was booking two nights in a room in a bit larger town. And on first afternoon rain started. I rushed out and bought some takeaway food and few beers and ran back to my accommodation. I ate everything and I was so full, drank couple of beers and fell asleep. The rain was beating hard on the roof whole night and all through the morning. I gladly slept in, enjoying the sound of the rain, because I'm used to the sound of it on the roof living my first 30+ years in an attic room. It was so nice to extend those bed hours from 8am till noon, hahaha.
And then the sun shone. And I went out and roam through the streets and all was good. Some 24 hours of pure joy for me. Yes, nothing special
What are your moments?
It wasn't a brothel? No wonder I got asked to leave.Hahahaha, you're a gem, Laurie!!!
That was definitely nice and bordering miracle. But the way you put it someone might think we met in a brothel
Alan, I had exactly the same experience in 2012. I had to resist the urge to stand up and exclaim “That’s me”Oh Kinky, that is such a hard question. I'll have to give two answers:
Nearly 10 years ago, at the end of my first Camino (then foolishly believing it was my only one), when I spoke almost no Spanish and was sitting at my first Pilgrim Mass in Santiago on St Andrew's Day, with no idea what was going to happen, and heard the priest say, and somehow worked out what it meant, "... uno del Reino Unido, desde Sevilla" and felt a rush of utterly unexpected emotion when I realised "goodness, that means me!"
I walked my first camino last year starting in SJPP on April 13, ending in Santiago May 18th. The first night was the best moment. The Napoleon route was closed so I went the Valcarlos route from SJPP to Roncesvalles through pouring rain. As veterans know this day is fairly trying and the mud and rain on the last half of the route which is the steepest part was very difficult. Anyway after arriving and getting cleaned up went to the 8 pm mass and the priest offered a tour for us after it was finished. We went down to the crypt area and he asked if anyone could sing so we could hear the acoustics. A young French woman next to me volunteered and sang the most amazing Ave Maria that I have ever heard. She had a magnificent voice and it was an amazing experience in those surroundings. A perfect and unexpected end to a very, very long day!!Yes, what was your most memorable moment on any Camino but not related to walking (past something etc.)?
For me it was booking two nights in a room in a bit larger town. And on first afternoon rain started. I rushed out and bought some takeaway food and few beers and ran back to my accommodation. I ate everything and I was so full, drank couple of beers and fell asleep. The rain was beating hard on the roof whole night and all through the morning. I gladly slept in, enjoying the sound of the rain, because I'm used to the sound of it on the roof living my first 30+ years in an attic room. It was so nice to extend those bed hours from 8am till noon, hahaha.
And then the sun shone. And I went out and roam through the streets and all was good. Some 24 hours of pure joy for me. Yes, nothing special
What are your moments?
For me, it was how emotional I got at Cruz de Ferro. I did not expect to feel anything there. But once I got close I just could not stop crying...
For me, it was all the wonderful people I met along the way. I’ve always loved stories of the road; whether books or road flicks; about the people the protagonist meets and the impact of those encounters. My first Camino was at a turning point in my life and I met others for whom it was too. We shared as much or as little as we cared to, knowing that we probably wouldn’t see each other ever again. It was almost like Confession. Those were special moments.Yes, what was your most memorable moment on any Camino but not related to walking (past something etc.)?
For me it was booking two nights in a room in a bit larger town. And on first afternoon rain started. I rushed out and bought some takeaway food and few beers and ran back to my accommodation. I ate everything and I was so full, drank couple of beers and fell asleep. The rain was beating hard on the roof whole night and all through the morning. I gladly slept in, enjoying the sound of the rain, because I'm used to the sound of it on the roof living my first 30+ years in an attic room. It was so nice to extend those bed hours from 8am till noon, hahaha.
And then the sun shone. And I went out and roam through the streets and all was good. Some 24 hours of pure joy for me. Yes, nothing special
What are your moments?
This story epitomizes the real essence of a pilgrim. Dependence on God and the kindness of the people.Meeting an incredible person.
I was walking the Primitivo in 2016 and I was approaching Berducedo. It was already dark and it was raining heavily. I got to the albergue but for some reason I just stared at it. I did not want to go in. I knew from being here before that the church has a huge covered porch, I fancied that so headed there.
I walked into the church porch to find another pilgrim there, a young 20 something girl. She had no hiking gear as such, she was even wearing white slip on pumps. She was dirty and disheveled, and had a huge beautiful grin. Her and her story completely floored me.
She was from Belgium and was suffering mental health problems, but for one reason or other (she told me but it is private) her treatment had ended. When her treatment ended so did her state benefits. So she lost her apartment as she could no longer pay.
She was devout Catholic, and so she decided to walk to Santiago and ask God what she should do now. She was looking for answers. She sold everything she had, bought good gear, had funds, and set off from her home town in Belgium.
All went well until she got to Paris. She met a girl there who said she could sleep at her place. She took her things there and they went out for the night. In the morning she woke up and the girl had gone, and so had all her things. Rucksack, boots, clothes, purse, money, passport. Everything. It turned out the place she was in was a squat, it did not belong to the girl she had met. All she had was a thin pair of socks, a T-shirt, shorts and one pair of underwear. What she had slept in.
Undeterred she carried on towards Santiago. She was convinced God would look after her. Passing out of Paris she rummaged through bins. She found some food. She also found a pair of jeans trousers, and a denim jacket, fat mans size (she was tiny), old and covered in paint. She fangled the jacket into a rudimentary bag. The trousers she ripped up and tied to her feet. They were her boots. She also found an old curtain, that was her bed. In this she walked across France into Spain. She ate what she found, fruits mainly, and from supermarket bins. She never had a penny, nor asked for a penny.
Once in Spain she met her first pilgrims (Irun, Camino del Norte), she shied away from them mostly, but did befriend a few. She never attempted to sleep indoors (some offered to pay for albergues for her but she said no, and anyway had no ID), and would not except money, even when offered. Around this time some pilgrims managed to get her some clothes from donation boxes in albergues, and even an old 1960’s looking rucksack.
She told me that when she first set off she had been looking forward to getting to Spain, she had always wanted to try a real Paella. She presumed now she would never get to try one. She was wrong. One day passing through a little village a dog followed her. A huge wild looking thing, but friendly. It followed for about three km, she kept shooing it off, but would not leave her. So she walked back to the village and tried to find the owner. No one there knew the dog. She got stuck with the dog. She carried on walking until she came to a large town where there was an animal sanctuary. She went there to check if he dog was chipped to find the owner. They said the dog was not chipped, and no, they would not take the dog. She walked on, with the dog.
Not long after this town a police car pulled up and she was arrested for stealing the dog. It had been reported lost, and she had been seen with it. The police said the dog WAS chipped. After inquiries at the police station, they found she had indeed taken the dog in to the rescue centre, and they had told her it was not chipped. From now the police were on her side and looked after her. She had to stay in a cell overnight, she had to report or be seen by a magistrate or similar in the morning when they would let her go without charge. They let her keep the jail’s white plimsolls they had issued her. That was what she was wearing when I met her. They also said they had to feed her, what would she like? They went out and bought her a Paella! She spent most of the time in the office chatting to the cops. They looked after her.
Then I met her. After a few hours chatting I decided something. On a previous camino I had got short of cash for two days waiting to be paid and a kind lad gave me 50 Euro’s to help me out. Two days later I tried to repay him but he just said ‘pass it on’. Well here was a good time to pass it on. I told her the story and offered her the 50 Euro’s. She smiled and said no. She did not need it, God was looking after her. Then, she grinned and said “But look, I have money”, and rummaged in her bag. She pulled out a little plastic bag with about 3 Euro’s in. I found this walking she said. I argued the case for her taking my money but she would not have it at all. And at this time she was offering me food out of her bag. Apples, plums, lots of blackberries and such. After much persuasion I got her to agree at least that I buy her a meal in the bar – it was raining, it was cold, she could do with a hot meal.
When we arrived at the bar, we got seated and I passed her the menu while I went off to the loo. When I got back she passed me a beer. She had spent her little money buying me a beer. She broke my heart.
That night I offered her my sleeping bag to use, but no, she was fine. She was still sleeping under her Paris curtain she had found in a bin.
In the morning, she gave me a hug, and off she went. I never saw her again. She was bright as sunshine, laughing and happy. Convinced that once she got to Santiago God would point out the way for her.
I often wonder what happened to this wonderful person when she arrived in Santiago. I still worry about her today. I hope she found what she needed to find. I hope she is well.
But I was truly blessed to have met her.
Davey
That’s ’ quite a story Purky! And you are lucky to have known such a fun, old school character. People like that stay with you...One of the most memorable moments was checking in at the Parador in Leon. This needs a bit of explaining. About a year before my 2016 departure, I told a friend about my camino plans. She had been the cleaning lady where I had worked some eight years earlier, where she was already well over seventy years old. She was as tough as an old boot and a lot of fun, and we became friends and kept in touch over the years.
When I told her about my travel ideas, she immediately got fired up and insisted she would save up some money to help fund my camino. She was by then pushing eighty, solely dependent on a small old age pension, and no matter how much I protested I didn't want her money, she wasn't changing her mind. She would do her shopping, come home and put some change in a piggy bank. She was old school.
About six months before I left she was diagnosed with cancer, a rather agressive one, but she dealt with that as she did with everything else in her life: head-on and as brave as you can imagine. When I would visit her, she would tell me about the treatments and prognosis in the shortest possible amount of time, and then change the conversation back to my upcoming camino. She wanted to hear all about it: routes, places of history I would pass, my time frame, everything. She'd also point to the piggy bank, a bit mischievously to be honest, and tell me it was getting quite heavy.
By the time I left she gave me the very heavy piggy bank. She had saved up about 150 euros in coins for me. I knew there was no way I could refuse it (did I mention she was a tough cookie?), so I had thought about what to do with that money. I didn't just want it lumped together with my travel funds, I wanted to do something special with it. Since she was quite artistic, and fond of old buildings, I suggested to her I would use her money to stay in the Parador of Leon for one night. I showed her some online pictures of the building and she loved the place and the idea.
All through the camino she followed my progress online, as I had made an open Facebook page, with the help of her daughter. I would get messages every now and then, about her health and how much she vicariously enjoyed my photos and stories. But what she enjoyed most was the ridiculously detailed account of my stay in the Parador, with tons of photos and my written impressions of about a page and a half.
I also called her late at night, to share the moment. I asked how she was, we had a few laughs and just before we disconnected I described how my room had two beds, and that I was in two minds about changing beds halfway through the night, just because I could. She cackled with laughter and then said: "Do it!" before she hung up her phone.
She died last year. The cancer finally got her, but she had fought a monumental fight. And I like to think that I brightened her life a little bit, taking her along on that special voyage, and to the Parador in Leon. I know she brightened mine.
Between Purky’s remarkable older woman and this younger ray of sunshine, I am just gobsmacked! What wonderful lives we lead when simply putting one foot in front of anotherMeeting an incredible person.
I was walking the Primitivo in 2016 and I was approaching Berducedo. It was already dark and it was raining heavily. I got to the albergue but for some reason I just stared at it. I did not want to go in. I knew from being here before that the church has a huge covered porch, I fancied that so headed there.
I walked into the church porch to find another pilgrim there, a young 20 something girl. She had no hiking gear as such, she was even wearing white slip on pumps. She was dirty and disheveled, and had a huge beautiful grin. Her and her story completely floored me.
She was from Belgium and was suffering mental health problems, but for one reason or other (she told me but it is private) her treatment had ended. When her treatment ended so did her state benefits. So she lost her apartment as she could no longer pay.
She was devout Catholic, and so she decided to walk to Santiago and ask God what she should do now. She was looking for answers. She sold everything she had, bought good gear, had funds, and set off from her home town in Belgium.
All went well until she got to Paris. She met a girl there who said she could sleep at her place. She took her things there and they went out for the night. In the morning she woke up and the girl had gone, and so had all her things. Rucksack, boots, clothes, purse, money, passport. Everything. It turned out the place she was in was a squat, it did not belong to the girl she had met. All she had was a thin pair of socks, a T-shirt, shorts and one pair of underwear. What she had slept in.
Undeterred she carried on towards Santiago. She was convinced God would look after her. Passing out of Paris she rummaged through bins. She found some food. She also found a pair of jeans trousers, and a denim jacket, fat mans size (she was tiny), old and covered in paint. She fangled the jacket into a rudimentary bag. The trousers she ripped up and tied to her feet. They were her boots. She also found an old curtain, that was her bed. In this she walked across France into Spain. She ate what she found, fruits mainly, and from supermarket bins. She never had a penny, nor asked for a penny.
Once in Spain she met her first pilgrims (Irun, Camino del Norte), she shied away from them mostly, but did befriend a few. She never attempted to sleep indoors (some offered to pay for albergues for her but she said no, and anyway had no ID), and would not except money, even when offered. Around this time some pilgrims managed to get her some clothes from donation boxes in albergues, and even an old 1960’s looking rucksack.
She told me that when she first set off she had been looking forward to getting to Spain, she had always wanted to try a real Paella. She presumed now she would never get to try one. She was wrong. One day passing through a little village a dog followed her. A huge wild looking thing, but friendly. It followed for about three km, she kept shooing it off, but would not leave her. So she walked back to the village and tried to find the owner. No one there knew the dog. She got stuck with the dog. She carried on walking until she came to a large town where there was an animal sanctuary. She went there to check if he dog was chipped to find the owner. They said the dog was not chipped, and no, they would not take the dog. She walked on, with the dog.
Not long after this town a police car pulled up and she was arrested for stealing the dog. It had been reported lost, and she had been seen with it. The police said the dog WAS chipped. After inquiries at the police station, they found she had indeed taken the dog in to the rescue centre, and they had told her it was not chipped. From now the police were on her side and looked after her. She had to stay in a cell overnight, she had to report or be seen by a magistrate or similar in the morning when they would let her go without charge. They let her keep the jail’s white plimsolls they had issued her. That was what she was wearing when I met her. They also said they had to feed her, what would she like? They went out and bought her a Paella! She spent most of the time in the office chatting to the cops. They looked after her.
Then I met her. After a few hours chatting I decided something. On a previous camino I had got short of cash for two days waiting to be paid and a kind lad gave me 50 Euro’s to help me out. Two days later I tried to repay him but he just said ‘pass it on’. Well here was a good time to pass it on. I told her the story and offered her the 50 Euro’s. She smiled and said no. She did not need it, God was looking after her. Then, she grinned and said “But look, I have money”, and rummaged in her bag. She pulled out a little plastic bag with about 3 Euro’s in. I found this walking she said. I argued the case for her taking my money but she would not have it at all. And at this time she was offering me food out of her bag. Apples, plums, lots of blackberries and such. After much persuasion I got her to agree at least that I buy her a meal in the bar – it was raining, it was cold, she could do with a hot meal.
When we arrived at the bar, we got seated and I passed her the menu while I went off to the loo. When I got back she passed me a beer. She had spent her little money buying me a beer. She broke my heart.
That night I offered her my sleeping bag to use, but no, she was fine. She was still sleeping under her Paris curtain she had found in a bin.
In the morning, she gave me a hug, and off she went. I never saw her again. She was bright as sunshine, laughing and happy. Convinced that once she got to Santiago God would point out the way for her.
I often wonder what happened to this wonderful person when she arrived in Santiago. I still worry about her today. I hope she found what she needed to find. I hope she is well.
But I was truly blessed to have met her.
Davey
Oh @Davey Boyd I loved everything about this story, and I cried when she bought you a beer.
You are right, how blessed you were.
How beautiful. Your response to her friendship was why she chose you to be her friend. What a priceless story.One of the most memorable moments was checking in at the Parador in Leon. This needs a bit of explaining. About a year before my 2016 departure, I told a friend about my camino plans. She had been the cleaning lady where I had worked some eight years earlier, where she was already well over seventy years old. She was as tough as an old boot and a lot of fun, and we became friends and kept in touch over the years.
When I told her about my travel ideas, she immediately got fired up and insisted she would save up some money to help fund my camino. She was by then pushing eighty, solely dependent on a small old age pension, and no matter how much I protested I didn't want her money, she wasn't changing her mind. She would do her shopping, come home and put some change in a piggy bank. She was old school.
About six months before I left she was diagnosed with cancer, a rather agressive one, but she dealt with that as she did with everything else in her life: head-on and as brave as you can imagine. When I would visit her, she would tell me about the treatments and prognosis in the shortest possible amount of time, and then change the conversation back to my upcoming camino. She wanted to hear all about it: routes, places of history I would pass, my time frame, everything. She'd also point to the piggy bank, a bit mischievously to be honest, and tell me it was getting quite heavy.
By the time I left she gave me the very heavy piggy bank. She had saved up about 150 euros in coins for me. I knew there was no way I could refuse it (did I mention she was a tough cookie?), so I had thought about what to do with that money. I didn't just want it lumped together with my travel funds, I wanted to do something special with it. Since she was quite artistic, and fond of old buildings, I suggested to her I would use her money to stay in the Parador of Leon for one night. I showed her some online pictures of the building and she loved the place and the idea.
All through the camino she followed my progress online, as I had made an open Facebook page, with the help of her daughter. I would get messages every now and then, about her health and how much she vicariously enjoyed my photos and stories. But what she enjoyed most was the ridiculously detailed account of my stay in the Parador, with tons of photos and my written impressions of about a page and a half.
I also called her late at night, to share the moment. I asked how she was, we had a few laughs and just before we disconnected I described how my room had two beds, and that I was in two minds about changing beds halfway through the night, just because I could. She cackled with laughter and then said: "Do it!" before she hung up her phone.
She died last year. The cancer finally got her, but she had fought a monumental fight. And I like to think that I brightened her life a little bit, taking her along on that special voyage, and to the Parador in Leon. I know she brightened mine.
Some truly wonderful stories here, for me, it was all the wonderful people I met, who were all carrying their own crosses to bear, and all were enjoying the experience.
Having just finished a 4 cycles of Chemotherapy last week, I am planning to walk a small part of the Camino Portuguese next week, from Porto, and if my particular cross allows me and doesnt progress any further than it has, I am planning do the CF for the second time Sept / October this year.........
How could I say anything other than meeting you in the hall of a cheap pension in Leon?
You are an inspiration, Phil!Phil,
Your will and fortitude are amazing. Buen Camino.
"It is so important to actually live while we are alive".
What a wonderful experience!Without a doubt for me it has always been and shall be a particular snowy January night in Roncesvalles where I have had ten exhausted but memorable stops during past caminos. Staying there one sensed history in the continuous monastic tradition of welcome to all.
January 2009 I walked 18 k in 5 hours through strong wind, heavy rain, sleet and eventually dense snow up the Valcarlos road to the almost mythic monastery ! Saw few people and no other pilgrims; I was the only one staying in the old winter albergue.
The monk who stamped my Credential invited me to the evening benediction for pilgrims. It was lovely. The service was held in the ancient Romanesque church (wonderfully heated!!) in front of the magnificent silver sculpture of the Virgin. Three monks assisted and asked me to stand with them at the altar. ...In retrospect how special it was that winter night to be the single pilgrim where crowds have stood throughout time. ...
Priceless encounter Davey. Crying with emotion!Meeting an incredible person.
I was walking the Primitivo in 2016 and I was approaching Berducedo. It was already dark and it was raining heavily. I got to the albergue but for some reason I just stared at it. I did not want to go in. I knew from being here before that the church has a huge covered porch, I fancied that so headed there.
I walked into the church porch to find another pilgrim there, a young 20 something girl. She had no hiking gear as such, she was even wearing white slip on pumps. She was dirty and disheveled, and had a huge beautiful grin. Her and her story completely floored me.
She was from Belgium and was suffering mental health problems, but for one reason or other (she told me but it is private) her treatment had ended. When her treatment ended so did her state benefits. So she lost her apartment as she could no longer pay.
She was devout Catholic, and so she decided to walk to Santiago and ask God what she should do now. She was looking for answers. She sold everything she had, bought good gear, had funds, and set off from her home town in Belgium.
All went well until she got to Paris. She met a girl there who said she could sleep at her place. She took her things there and they went out for the night. In the morning she woke up and the girl had gone, and so had all her things. Rucksack, boots, clothes, purse, money, passport. Everything. It turned out the place she was in was a squat, it did not belong to the girl she had met. All she had was a thin pair of socks, a T-shirt, shorts and one pair of underwear. What she had slept in.
Undeterred she carried on towards Santiago. She was convinced God would look after her. Passing out of Paris she rummaged through bins. She found some food. She also found a pair of jeans trousers, and a denim jacket, fat mans size (she was tiny), old and covered in paint. She fangled the jacket into a rudimentary bag. The trousers she ripped up and tied to her feet. They were her boots. She also found an old curtain, that was her bed. In this she walked across France into Spain. She ate what she found, fruits mainly, and from supermarket bins. She never had a penny, nor asked for a penny.
Once in Spain she met her first pilgrims (Irun, Camino del Norte), she shied away from them mostly, but did befriend a few. She never attempted to sleep indoors (some offered to pay for albergues for her but she said no, and anyway had no ID), and would not except money, even when offered. Around this time some pilgrims managed to get her some clothes from donation boxes in albergues, and even an old 1960’s looking rucksack.
She told me that when she first set off she had been looking forward to getting to Spain, she had always wanted to try a real Paella. She presumed now she would never get to try one. She was wrong. One day passing through a little village a dog followed her. A huge wild looking thing, but friendly. It followed for about three km, she kept shooing it off, but would not leave her. So she walked back to the village and tried to find the owner. No one there knew the dog. She got stuck with the dog. She carried on walking until she came to a large town where there was an animal sanctuary. She went there to check if he dog was chipped to find the owner. They said the dog was not chipped, and no, they would not take the dog. She walked on, with the dog.
Not long after this town a police car pulled up and she was arrested for stealing the dog. It had been reported lost, and she had been seen with it. The police said the dog WAS chipped. After inquiries at the police station, they found she had indeed taken the dog in to the rescue centre, and they had told her it was not chipped. From now the police were on her side and looked after her. She had to stay in a cell overnight, she had to report or be seen by a magistrate or similar in the morning when they would let her go without charge. They let her keep the jail’s white plimsolls they had issued her. That was what she was wearing when I met her. They also said they had to feed her, what would she like? They went out and bought her a Paella! She spent most of the time in the office chatting to the cops. They looked after her.
Then I met her. After a few hours chatting I decided something. On a previous camino I had got short of cash for two days waiting to be paid and a kind lad gave me 50 Euro’s to help me out. Two days later I tried to repay him but he just said ‘pass it on’. Well here was a good time to pass it on. I told her the story and offered her the 50 Euro’s. She smiled and said no. She did not need it, God was looking after her. Then, she grinned and said “But look, I have money”, and rummaged in her bag. She pulled out a little plastic bag with about 3 Euro’s in. I found this walking she said. I argued the case for her taking my money but she would not have it at all. And at this time she was offering me food out of her bag. Apples, plums, lots of blackberries and such. After much persuasion I got her to agree at least that I buy her a meal in the bar – it was raining, it was cold, she could do with a hot meal.
When we arrived at the bar, we got seated and I passed her the menu while I went off to the loo. When I got back she passed me a beer. She had spent her little money buying me a beer. She broke my heart.
That night I offered her my sleeping bag to use, but no, she was fine. She was still sleeping under her Paris curtain she had found in a bin.
In the morning, she gave me a hug, and off she went. I never saw her again. She was bright as sunshine, laughing and happy. Convinced that once she got to Santiago God would point out the way for her.
I often wonder what happened to this wonderful person when she arrived in Santiago. I still worry about her today. I hope she found what she needed to find. I hope she is well.
But I was truly blessed to have met her.
Davey
Like you I am finding all these stories very emotional.I always shed tears at Cruz Dr Ferro and have felt emotional at other times and places on the Camino,but last year I cried in the Church at Hontanas.I always spend some time there as I find the atmosphere created in there is both Spiritual and emotional.Having lit some memorial candles I was sitting lost in my memories,with a beautiful Spanish hymn playing quietly in the background,when a young Pilgrim came in,she stood for a moment then began to sing the hymn in a most amazing voice.I looked at her and she had tears running down her face,and I too began to cry.When she finished all of us in the Church clapped, she bowed towards the Altar then left to continue her Camino.I never saw her again but will never forget her.Priceless encounter Davey. Crying with emotion!
What a truly remarkable story, masterfully told, Davey. But what a pity that this is only half the story. I can't help musing that if you had ever had he chance to tell this to Paul Gallico, you would have inspired the ultimate Camino novel, on a par with "The Small Miracle".Meeting an incredible person.
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