Finnisterre

Considered by many during medieval times to be the end of the world, Finnisterre is the western-most point in Europe, making it the boundary of known civilization until the discovery of the Americas by Columbus in 1492. It marks the true end of the Camino, the pilgrims no longer having anywhere more to continue their journey.
When we were there the ocean was a frothy grey, and the shoreline shrouded in fog.

Muxia at the End of the World

After arriving in Santiago de Campostela, we took part in all the rituals for arriving pilgrims. We visited the plaza in front of the cathedral. We stood before the Portico of Glory (though we could not place our hands on the stone as they are currently restoring it). We embraced the statue of Santiago and prayed at his tomb.

Then we went to Muxia, where it is said that the Virgin Mary appeared to Santiago and encouraged him to continue his work in Galicia. Muxia is a remarkable place, where the bedrock of the Earth slopes down to the sea and disappears into it's depths. At the same time, the waves come in again and again, as does the fog that shrouded the place when we visited. This was a day I will never forget.

That's Nico reflecting on the Way, and the scale of the place does remind you how small we humans are in the grand scheme of things.

Beautiful Pics

Contemplating Death as a Spiritual Practice

Just beyond the plaza with the Baroque cathedral and the neo-classical palace and the medieval hospital for pilgrims built by Isabel and Ferdinand lies the little parish church of San Fructoso. Anywhere else it could the center of attention, but here it is not even on the map. On one side is a little plaza with this little plague mounted to the wall. In case you come at night, there is a street light hanging directly overhead.

Setting Out on our Last Morning, the Sun at Our Backs.

Someone Has a Sense of Humor

Since our first day on the Way, we have seem marker after marker telling us how many more kilometers remain till we arrive in Campostela. 314, 298...this morning the first market said 18.5. Then as we were in the last stretch--maybe five kilometers out, we came across the beauty: The Way is infinite. It never ends.

Ancient Church

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San Lazaro in Sarria

On the edge of the town of Sarria, there is still a little chapel for San Lazaro and the columns from the hostel for lepers and invalids that thrived here from 9th through the 18th century.

Spain's Gardens

There are many municipal gardens in Spain, this being one of them. They are often tucked behind churches, or built on terraces with scenic views of the surrounding area. Interestingly enough, they are not at all like the parks in America, with rolling grass and relatively untamed wilderness: take Rock Creek, for example. In Spain, the parks and gardens are more carefully managed, usually paved in aesthetic stones, and trees planted with precision. I thought it was an interesting difference…

The Pilgrim's Credential.

Everywhere we stop, we get our credentials stamped. This reminds of our journey but also acts as proof that we really have doing all this walking. At this point we have filled one whole side with stamps, and we still have 112 km to go.

Blisters and Pox Are Just Mementos of the Way.

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Walking as World-Making

Yesterday someone addressed us as "pilgrims," and it is true that we are walking this pilgrimage route. Today, as we walked through the fog with pilgrims from all over the world, I reflected on the ways in which participating in a tradition activates the ideas, values, and images associated with it. We are literally retracing the footsteps of millions of previous pilgrims--including Isabel and Ferdinand, Saint Francis of Assisi, and good number of other saints and popes. We are walking past scores of tiny churches built to mark the Way. We are discussing our journey with the other people we encounter. By making the trip and sharing stories about it, we help to make real the world of the Road of Santiago.

And this world has its consequences. At Foncebadón a few days back, a man from Madrid immediately asked why we were walking the Way. Almost before I could answer, he said with great passion, "I have walked the Road three times, and I do it because the Road gives me life."

A Jaunt Through The Clouds…

Today we left the medieval village where we spent the night and went deeper into Galicia, another region of Spain. The valley into which we descended was filled with a sea of clouds which rolled into the hollows between the forested shoulders of the mountains, leaving only the highest places visible. Shortly after beginning, we descended into the clouds as the road wound its way into the valley.

The suns rays illuminated the suspended water droplets with an ethereal glow, making the forests and churches all look like something that came off a baroque painters canvas or from a long-lost world.

Saint Roque as Babalú-Ayé

All along the Way to Campostela there are allusions to San Lázaro. In many towns, including Cacabelos where we are right now, there was a special hostel dedicated to San Lázaro located at the edge of town so pilgrims with the plague or leprosy would not have to mix with others. Imaged as a lame man on crutches with two dogs traveling with him, San Lázaro is a classic image of suffering, isolation,!devotion, and dynamism.

Another similar figure is San Roque. Son of French nobles, Roque became a mendicant. On pilgrimage to Rome, he came down with the plague. With open wounds he walked to Campostela, attended by a faithful dog that locked his sores clean and brought him food to eat. He is always represented as a pilgrim with sores on his legs and a dog at his side. He caught people's imagination in the Middle Ages, and there are churches for him all along the Way.

Yesterday I was already thinking a post about San Roque, who in Cuba is often linked to Babalú, the deity of infectious disease and healing. Today we walked into Cacabelos, passed the Plaza de San Lázaro, and visited the little chapel where this image of San Roque sits on the main altar.

When we went to the Plaza of San Lázaro for dinner, we saw an elderly homeless man picking through the dumpsters. As we left after dinner, he was still at it, so I offered him our leftovers--dinner for him and a small offering for us to show our gratitude for our well-being.

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"The Way over the mountains to the Bierzo. "

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"Nico leaving a stone at the famous Iron Cross, the highest point on the Camino. "

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Cool Things

Today we went from Astorga to Rabanal del Camino (~20 kilometers). Our feet became tired, but we saw many cool things. Since we started, farms and irrigation pipes such as these have followed us every step of the way, but we will soon leave them behind as we cross the mountains.

El Ganso

Seven years ago on cold, wet October day, I walk though the village of El Ganso with my wife Daria. We noticed the many rose bushes as they were all pregnant with rose hip. But we wondered what color the roses were.

Today Nico and I returned to El Ganso to find the roses in full bloom. As we walked through the village, We saw white roses. We saw pink roses. We saw red roses. As we came to the Romanesque church...

We saw that the whole exterior wall of the apse was covered by a huge rose bush sporting pink and yellow roses similar to the ones Daria and I had at our wedding.

When we called Daria later in the day and told her that we had passed through El Ganso, her immediate response was, "What color were the roses?"

Sunset in Astorga makes you notice the heavens.

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Rammed. Earth.Building. Paradise.

Yesterday afternoon in Villadongas del Páramo we saw close a hundred rammed-earth buildings with different facades, roofs, and layouts. The older folks I talked to said no one who knows the technique is still alive there and that nowadays people don't want this kind of house.

Rilke on Darkness

I brought Rilke's Book of Hours to read as a sacred text.

You, darkness, of whom I am born--

I love you more than the flame
That limits the world
To the circle it illuminates
And excludes all the rest.

But the dark embraces everything:
Shapes and shadows, creatures and me,
People,nations--just as they are.

It lets me imagine
A great presence stirring beside me.

I believe in the night.

Starting to Walk in Leon

After taking the night train from Barcelona, we arrived in Leon at 5 in the morning. We downed donuts, croquettes and coffee at the train station, we set off to find the actual Road of Santiago. The way is marked by yellow arrows, yellow scollop shells, and brass scollop shells on the ground.

This is the first shell we saw on the ground in front of us.

La Moreneta

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Visit to Montserrat

We have been to Montserrat before, but I kept imagining coming here to start the Road from this incredible mountain north of Barcelona. The Black Virgin appeared here in the 9th century and the monastery began in the 11th. And the monks are still here singing their prayers seven times a day.

This morning as I sat praying in the sanctuary, I watched as many of the monks greeted the image of their patroness before the first service of the day. They climbed the long staircase and then kissed the orb that the image holds in her hand. Some stood for several minutes, communing with her. This is an amazing mountain and I can understand how someone might want to live here forever.

On Our Way…

Today after arriving in Spain, we went to the Montserrat monetary, nestled in the scenic mountains. We will start the trek soon…

Follow the Scallop Shell Road

The scallop shell is one of the oldest symbols of the Way to Campostela. Legend says that pilgrims picked them up at the sea three days walk past Campostela and carried them home as proof that they had actually made the entire trip. Now the scallop shell is used all over Spain to mark the Way.

Attitudes for the Way

In preparation, I have been thinking about what others say about the pilgrim's attitude.  Confucius had a conversation with Zi Zhang about the practices of wise rulers, and they seem to also be excellent attitudes for travelers on sacred journeys.

1. Practice the arts of attention and listening.
2. Practice renewing yourself every day.
3. Practice meandering toward the center of every place.
4. Practice the ritual of reading sacred texts.
5. Practice gratitude and praise-singing.

There are other perspectives from the Center Kingdom. Loy Ching-Yuen says in The Book of the Heart, "The beauty of the Way is that there is no 'way'." Lao-tzu states in the Tao Te Ching, "The Way that can be told is not the true Way."

So following the Way seems to require a certain tolerance for uncertainty and paradox. I am okay with that.

A Map of the Road of Santiago in All Its Diversity

The Work of Pilgrimage

I woke up this morning with my thoughts squarely on the pilgrim’s road. I love the image of moving out from a town and into the largely asocial and empty space. This middle place is outside of usual relationships. This middle place is neither here nor there. It is the betwixt-and-between space that many associate with rites of passage.  You know another town is over the horizon or over the next hill, but you spend most of your time between specific places.

Similarly the image of walking between more fixed social worlds intrigues me deeply. The pilgrim’s body literally moves out of one space and into the middle ground. It is the work of the body that propels the pilgrim forward., and it is the body that is marked by pilgrimage. The pilgrim sweats and drenches his cloths. With time, the sweat mixes with cloths worn day after day, and the pilgrims begins to reek. The pilgrim’s feet strike the Earth again and again. Her legs again, and her feet begin to swell.  Most pilgrims end up with blisters, making each step excruciating. When stopping, pilgrims peel off their shoes and socks to doctor the angry, red sores.

These ulcers are the price for movement, that most valuable of psychic gifts. Pilgrimage teaches the value of moving forward, of attending to the people and places you encounter, of respecting your limits even as you try to reach your goals.

Yesterday in Rock Creek Park. Nico crossing a log bridge.

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Sweet little creek on today's walk.

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Training today in Rock Creek Park

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Training in the Shenandoah…

Hiking up a cascading waterfall in a crevice of the Shenandoah valley. Little Devil's Stairs, they call it. Very fun, but tiring…

The Road of Santiago is colloquial Castellan for the Milky Way.

Training for the road.

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It's a long and winding road, as they say.

Why Walk the Road?

My son is thirteen, and we are walking the Way as a rite of passage. We have been talking about this trip since he was three, and the time has finally arrived. We have hiking boots, we have plane tickets, and we have a plan--you have to have a plan.

We have been walking regularly to train--but probably not regularly enough. We have been reading about the Road. We have been reflecting on the possibilities. All this preparation provides us the opportunity to reflect on the whole thing.

Since Nico lives half the time with his mother, I realized that I was a little frightened: I have never spent three uninterrupted weeks with my son, and I don't really know what it will be like.

May the Way bring us love, mutual respect, and discovery.