Hiking along an 800 km trail over mountains and through forests sounds like it would be a solitary, even a lonely undertaking. But when we talk of the Camino de Santiago that is usually not the case at all. The main path – the Camino Francis, is a very sociable, international and multilingual event. And it makes this pilgrim route great fun. That is unless you are on seeking your inner Thoreau and on the quest for solitude when you might find all that communal living, eating and walking, not to mention the wine drinking, a sore trial.
Along the way, you soon form a kind of pod with the people who walk at your pace, or it works out that way with stops for coffee, to admire the view and to rest the feet. Even people who are swifter than you take time off for sightseeing, to heal blisters or rest after over-exerting themselves in their Camino enthusiasm. So people you have not seen for several days, turn up at a water fountain or in the evening at a hostel – an albergue – and you cook together or all go out to a restaurant for supper.
I took three expeditions to complete the Camino Francés. The first two times I went with a different friend. Then I realized that if I was going to complete the Camino I should do it alone. But as I said, most of the time you are not alone and I treasure the memory of the people I met. In fact, it was so social, I had to be intentional to find ‘me time.’ I usually managed the mornings solo, and then by midday, I was happy to seek out company.
But it is a pilgrimage and there is company and presence of different varieties, including the spiritual kind and one day that kind of company sought me out. It was Easter Day and I was feeling low and lonely: the week before Easter is a big deal in Spain with, weather permitting, parades through the towns and villages, with bands and fraternities (the members wear hoods like the Klu Klux Clan but are so not!). They carry statues from the churches on platforms on their shoulders through the streets, sometimes barefoot as a penance. But Easter Day seemed a bit of an anticlimax. Everyone seems to be recovering from the night and week before. And to make things sadder for me, the evening before, the hostel I was planning to stay in was closed.
I had made it to the hostel in Villafranca which was crowded. I met friends, we had pizza and beer in the town square, but that night I had diarrhea. Need I say, that is not something you want whilst staying in a hostel. However, thank God, it was just one bout. The next morning, I lay in my bunk, which was up against a cold stone wall. I was weak and to add to my misery, the Frenchman from the bunk above was looming over me as he meticulously placed the contents of his backpack out on his bunk. From my lower bunk, I had a grand view of his portly torso clad only in his briefs. It was Easter morning, and this was not a spiritual experience!
Eventually, with everyone else already en route, I got up and sorted myself out and got going. Through the town and over the river, and just on the other side of the bridge, was a hotel and restaurant and I went in for breakfast and to recover some more. It was peaceful. I managed some breakfast and rested with the local newspaper and my Spanish dictionary, which was one of my downtime Camino activities. At one point I was given a slice of pound cake as an Easter gift. I sat in a daze, gently healing. At some point, I decided that today, I would make an encounter where my soul would meet another soul – in a spiritual sense. In Camino pilgrim lingo this would be the Christ in me meeting the Christ in the other. Thus fortified, I set out.
Leaving Villafranca the Camino follows a narrow valley with steep forested hills on either side. There is a lower path but I took the upper one to avoid the traffic on the valley highway. It was now beautiful, clear and warm. My path skirted the side of the high hill with wildflowers and Sweet (or Spanish) Chestnut trees. It was deserted, there was no one in sight. Eventually, the path took a sharp turn downhill and I came into the valley and the highway. I got a washroom visit and soda at a truck stop restaurant. Maybe my Easter quest for a sibling soul would not be happening today.
Further on, the path became more rural. The highway was now high above on a flyover overpass. The trail was still deserted, but as I came into a village, half sitting, half leaning against a low stone wall was an ancient man. He had on the blue work clothes of the local agricultural folk. He was quiet and looked a little sad. I called out to him ‘Felices Pascuas’, the Easter greeting. He looked at me and his face was transformed, illuminated. I went over to him and we looked and just gave each other a hug and grinned and nodded. My Jesus soul had found another one and I went on my way.
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