A Pilgrim's Rewards, Step by Step    

By DAVID G.P.R. DUFFY

Spiritual and temporal pleasures of a 500-mile walk across northern Spain to Santiago de Compostela

I had climbed Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in Europe, to celebrate my 50th birthday, and wondered vaguely what I might do for an encore as my 60th approached. Nothing even remotely spiritual had so far disturbed my predictable pedestrian progress. However, I had read for years about the Camino de Santiago -- the Way of St. James, the ancient pilgrims' route to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, and contemplated attempting the journey. Finally, at the funeral service of one of my greatest friends, I made myself a promise that I would make the pilgrimage on foot to Santiago on his behalf, and that of my godson, who had died too young the previous year.

The project was soon put on hold when I was diagnosed with cancer and had immediate surgery, so it was not until the fall of 1998 that I undertook the trip.

The Camino Francés, or French Route, is one of several. It runs from the Ronces valles Pass in the Pyrenees leading from France into Spain, across the entire north of Spain, to the city of Santiago de Compostela, a distance of almost 500 miles, through the Spanish provinces of Navarre, Rioja, Castille, Palencia, León, Lugo and finally La Coruña. More than half the route is through mountains running north-south, while you are walking east-west. There are five major passes above 3,300 feet, one of which, Cruz de Ferro (Iron Cross) is over 5,000 feet. In addition to these major obstacles, the route crosses innumerable smaller ridges. The joy of coming over a ridge and seeing a village nestling in the valley is tempered by the knowledge that another climb awaits. It is not all hills: on the plains and plateaus, one can walk 25 miles over featureless, totally flat country toward a line of distant mountains on the horizon.

The surface that pilgrims walk on ranges from remote narrow and stony mountain paths, to muddy farm tracks through lush pastureland, to carefully graded gravel tracks through vines and wheat, and finally to narrow footpaths alongside major roads, with 16-wheelers howling past at 70 M.P.H., just feet away.

A French monk, writing in 1130, when the pilgrimage had been a going concern for 200 years, stated that the Abbey at Roncevalles, starting point for the journey, had been built by Charlemagne. In medieval times a half-million pilgrims passed through each year, and tens of thousands still do -- mostly in summer, although it never stops.

A whole service industry grew up along the Camino de Santiago. Villages and towns were built to meet pilgrims' needs, extraordinarily beautiful cathedrals, monasteries and convents were erected, and, inevitably, roads connecting them developed. The Spanish authorities, together with the Church and voluntary organizations, have done much to safeguard the camino from modern development, but there are some distinctly unpicturesque sections, particularly on the approaches to major cities.

The weather can vary enormously, from baking sun to torrential rain and wind, and in early fall I encountered temperatures ranging from 38 to 80 degrees. In the course of 500 miles, one traverses some very sparsely populated or even uninhabited areas, which means carrying all one's own water and food. I found Power Bars very good for a boost on the longer stages -- I consumed 20 in all -- but my usual lunch was a tortilla bocadillo bought along the way, a fresh crusty loaf with a potato and onion omelet inside, together with a half liter of wine. I also consumed about two liters of water a day, replenished at village fountains or at the overnight stopping places provided along the way, usually about 10 miles apart but sometimes 20.

If all this sounds arduous, it is, but more than compensated for by the wonderfully peaceful, unspoiled countryside of most of the route, and the knowledge that this ancient path has been trodden for at least a thousand years. Some authorities maintain that the route is pre-Christian, adopted by the early church along with much else.

I walked through clouds of beautifully blooming purple autumn crocus, lanes lined with rose hips and blackberries, tracks strewn with fallen sweet chestnuts making a carpet underfoot, through mountain pastures where cream-colored cows grazed to the sound of clanking bells, myself always keeping a wary eye on the attendant bull. One Saturday, quite suddenly, the vineyards became alive with men, women and children -- the grape harvest had begun.

On the evening of Sept. 15, I arrived at the Augustinian Monastery of Roncesvalles (A.D. 1127) in the Spanish Pyrenees about 30 miles southeast of Biarritz. After being welcomed by the canon, Don Javier Navarro, I produced my letters of introduction, was judged to be a genuine pilgrim (although I am Anglican), and was given my credencial, or pilgrim's passport, without which one cannot use the refugios, or hostels along the way. I had two letters, and had covered my bases, both spiritual and temporal, by having one from a Jesuit friend, the other from a friend at the Spanish Embassy.

After settling into the spartan dormitory in the attics of the sprawling 12th-century monastery, I attended a very moving Mass and pilgrims' blessing along with about two dozen others in the ornate 13th-century Royal Collegiate Church. Dining afterward at the local inn, I had the hearty pilgrim's menu for $6.50, consisting of three courses (soup, grilled trout with ham, and flan) together with a full bottle of wine!

I started out at 8 A.M. from the monastery on Sept. 16, hanging around my neck a scallop shell (coquille St.-Jacques), the traditional badge of the pilgrim, a rather beautiful specimen given to me by a French friend and chef. I arrived at the Cathedral of Santiago 24 days later, on the evening of Oct. 9, averaging just under 21 miles a day. I would point out, that as an ex-soldier and mountain climber, I am well used to a long day's march.

Many pilgrims take a less strenuous pace, spending longer in some of the historic cities and towns on the way, like Pamplona, Burgos or León. The average time for an adult to complete the camino is from four to six weeks, though many take two weeks a year, over perhaps a three-year span.

I preferred to travel alone, at my own pace, but most pilgrims like company. I encountered fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, brothers, sisters, married couples, and unmarried couples of both sexes, as well as many like myself, who, though traveling alone, met up every night in constantly evolving and changing groups, as people took rest days or put in a particularly long day. I took two "rest" days when I walked only 10 miles. One was to see the fine cathedral at León, the other was at Estella, where a rather grand hotel was offering a special pilgrim's rate of $18 a night, close to a fountain that runs free red wine, courtesy of local producers.

News and gossip flies back and forth among the travelers with astonishing speed. Did you hear that the Brazilian girl, Elisabeth (nobody has surnames), got tired of walking after four days and bought a horse? How is it that those two men are still in the refugio when we leave, yet always at the next before we arrive? Miracle or bus? Did you hear that the strange Englishman's dotty dog tried to break into the refugio at O Cebreiro at 3 in the morning, barking madly, to the fury of all? Did you hear that the nice Swiss man with the beard dropped dead 300 yards from the refugio, after the 3,000-foot climb from Villafranca? So it went, the pilgrims' bush telegraph each night at the hostels.

The refugios are provided by the church, by towns and villages, and by voluntary groups and societies. They are intended for true pilgrims, not people looking for an inexpensive vacation, or groups with back-up transport. The buildings range from medieval monasteries and convents and unused schools to the modern hostels of Galicia. They usually provide double-tier bunks with a thin mattress pad, and sometimes a blanket. All facilities are shared, and distinctly unisex -- men, women and children live (and change) in the same space, including lavatories and showers. There may or may not be hot water for showers and hand laundry (no washing machines). The hostels are either free, or ask for a donation of $2 or $3. They do not provide food but may have a communal kitchen where you can prepare your own. Every village and town along the route has at least one cafe-bar where you can buy food or have the bargain pilgrims' menu.

The rules, generally speaking, are simple. Walkers are usually permitted to enter at 4 P.M., cyclists at 6. The pilgrim's passport has to be produced, and is stamped with the sello (a rubber stamp -- each one different and some of them very ornate) and dated. Lights out at 10 P.M., doors locked at 11, reveille at 7, and everybody out by 8.

Communal living is not for everyone. On my first night, when I entered the dorm at the Abbey at Roncesvalles, I found two girls walking around in their underwear. In the shower room at Larrasoaña I was somewhat startled to be surrounded by a bevy of 16-year-old German schoolgirls in vestigial underwear. The refugios are definitely not to everybody's taste and certainly not the place for those of an overmodest disposition.

Many, particularly the middle aged -- and most of the pilgrims I saw were middle aged and fairly affluent -- prefer to stay at inns and small hotels, which can cost from $15 to $20 a night. I think one misses the camaraderie and a lot of fun by doing so, and I certainly missed the gossip and friendship on the three nights I stayed at inns (but the hot baths were bliss).

On previous hiking expeditions I had always dressed traditionally in the European alpine manner -- wool shirt, knickerbockers, stockings and heavy boots. For this trek I decided to burst into the 20th century. My wife, Gillian, gave me a splendid Mont Bell Gore-Tex jacket in an alarming shade of orange, her reasoning being that search parties would find it easier to spot me. I then equipped myself with various microfiber garments, finishing off with a wealth of Polartec. The effect was colorful, to say the least, but the outfit was light and comfortable, and dried quickly after washing, a very important point given the primitive facilities.

When it came to my feet, I was able to buy a pair of Mephisto boots at less than half the usual price of $300. They are without doubt the most comfortable footgear I have ever worn in my life, and I never suffered a single blister or chafe the whole 500 miles. I wore them with padded hiking socks, and a thin polyester "skin" sock inside them, carrying two sets and washing them each night.

The importance of good boots cannot be overemphasized. They must be well broken in -- I walked seven miles every day for three weeks before I left, carrying my loaded pack -- and properly laced. For some reason, beginners are tempted to haul on the laces as if they were Scarlett O'Hara's stays, and suffer accordingly. Boots should fit firmly, but not tightly.

I stuck to my Kelty Super Tioga framed pack, which served me well, but I was the only person using a frame. Everybody else, but everybody, used frameless packs, so there must be something in it. I started off with a total pack weight of 40 pounds, but after a week decided 7 pounds was nonessential and mailed it on to Santiago.

One necessity is the traditional stout staff. Some of the steeper mountain paths would have been impassible without it. Last, a good hat with a brim and a chinstrap (if you don't want to see it bowling after one of the aforementioned trucks) is vital.

Knowledge of Spanish is of inestimable value, since in most rural areas no English is spoken except in large hotels. My Spanish is virtually nonexistent, and I feel that I missed a lot, as the Spanish people are generous and hospitable, and I would love to have been able to converse with them.

A typical day -- let's take Sept. 25, in the village of Tardajos -- began at 7. I had bread and coffee and the local bar and was on the road by 8. It was a dark, rainy morning, with sticky white clay tracks. Very hilly going. After 13 wet miles, I stopped for lunch at 1:30 at a tiny mountain inn in the village of Hontanas. The inn is cheap and good, and the owner a colorful and hospitable rogue -- but the guidebook says "women traveling alone are advised not to stay here." After the customary bocadillo and wine, I carried on for seven miles of mountainous tracks through wind and rain to the old Roman town of Castrojeriz. The road went through the huge and impressive ruins of the 14th-century monastery of San Antón, which spans the road. I arrived dog tired but dry, thanks to Gore-Tex.

The refugio was an old convent building, spartan (it had stone bunks), but with hot water. The jolly custodian greeted me with a bunch of grapes. I was asleep by 9:30, awakened at 6:30 by the sound of plainchant. The good custodian served a breakfast of coffee and bread, a welcome treat, as it was still pouring. Worse weather was to come: I was so tired on arrival in Ponferrada that the magnificent Templar castle failed to impress.

When I finally got to Santiago at dusk on Oct. 9, ignored by the local people, who are used to pilgrims, I completed the Camino by entering the medieval cathedral through the beautiful Pórtico de la Gloria. Then I rewarded myself by checking into the Baroque splendor of the Hotel San Francisco, and proceeded to the Cathedral Pilgrim Office. After a short interview with a lay brother -- they are given only to genuine pilgrims, not tourists -- and examination of my by now heavily stamped credencial, I was congratulated and given the traditional Compostela document in Latin, the official proof of a completed pilgrimage. An emotional moment for me, and at the same time rather anticlimactic.

Returning to the cathedral and the gallery behind the high altar, where the 13th-century statue of St. James is, I was fortunate to be alone for 10 minutes, and able to offer up my prayers for R. and J. and others in peace and privacy. I felt a great sense of completion and achievement at having discharged my self-imposed obligation. I lost 16 pounds, and took plenty of Advil, but suffered not one blister or any other injury. I spent a total of about $400 for everything, start to finish.

The next morning I woke to the chiming of bells in Santiago with the realization that for the first time in weeks, I was not going to walk 20 miles that day!

Getting a pilgrim's passport and preparing for the trip

The Camino de Santiago, the 500-mile way of St. James across northern Spain to Santiago de Compostela, is open to both walkers and bicycle riders. Participants must obtain the vital "pilgrim's passport" (there is no charge) at the abbey at Roncevalles in the Spanish Pyrenees in order to use the hostels along the route and as proof of having completed the pilgrimage.

It is useful to have a letter of introduction from your local church, temple, college or other institution to establish your bona fides to show at the abbey -- though nominally Roman Catholic, the Camino is ecumenical in spirit, and people of all faiths can be pilgrims.

Many people do segments of the route. For those who wish to complete the entire route, while the Camino is not Everest, neither is it a walk in the park. The key is preparation, both physical and mental. The traditional exhortation to the pilgrim is "Ultreia" -- Onward!

Pilgrims should keep pack weight as low as possible -- 30 pounds is the absolute maximum. Good boots are also essential. Padded socks with thin polypropylene liners are wonderful for avoiding blisters.

It is important to get in shape by walking at least five miles a day with boots and pack in the month before departure. Clothing should be weatherproof, light and comfortable, on the layering principle.

The following resources will tell those interested in participating everything they need to know.

Marco Lazzario's Web site is indispensable, and gives links to other Camino sites: www.geocities.com/athens/acropolis/5398.

Andrea Kirkby's site gives a long literary account -- practically a novel -- of her Camino walk in 1994: ourworld.compuserve .com/homepages/andreak/santhome.htm.

Two accounts by American authors, "Road of Stars to Santiago" by Edward F. Stanton (University Press of Kentucky, 1994) and "Off the Road" by Jack Hitt (Simon & Schuster, 1994) are well worth reading.

"A Practical Guide for Pilgrims" by Millán Bravo Lozano (Everest, 1997) has maps, history and a list of hostels, and no pilgrim is without it.

Since 1999 is a jubilee year, when St. James's Day, July 25, falls on a Sunday, the entire route will be thick with pilgrims.

A comprehensive list of special jubilee-year activities is available at the official Web site: www.xacobeo.es, to be found under the heading Agenda.