Via Podiensis: Entering into the Last 100 km

Last evening I met a couple of guys from South Africa as well as a pilgrim from Trinidad. Quite a group of folks having the usual pilgrim conversations, and it helped bring me out of my funk. And it turns out that Neil from South Africa owns a company that makes vestments. Crazy.

Seriously slept in today. I guess my body was still recovering from the fatigue of the past weeks. I didn’t leave until 8 AM. Every article of clothing I owned was dry right up until then.

It had rained through most of the night, and everything was soggy. I had plastic bags over my feet in my shoes, and I was feeling fairly confident that I could make some good distance today.

Weirdly, I started out roadwalking on a rural asphalt road. It was just drizzling at this point, and I was feeling pretty good about it. The road was flat and smooth, as if it were brand new. Perhaps it is; I am probably misremembering, but I think this was a dirt road the last time I was through here.

After just a couple of kilometers, for a brief exciting moment, the Camino turned down a dirt road. I walked through a tiny village, before the Camino path return to the road once more.

At one point, I missed a turn again. Fortunately, this time I caught it after only about 100 meters. The Camino turned down a broad gravel path filled with wide and deep puddles. Progress was slower than I’d like.

The air was full of the sound of crows and the smell of cows. The sky was starting to brighten a little, and I could see large trees in the gloom. The rain was a pleasant, intermittent drizzle. A pretty good morning for a walk.

I passed the site where, years ago, a hideous cartoon like statue had stood. This was the cartoon mascot of the Camino in the late 1990s named Pelerín. The plinth and the fence around were still in place, but the statue was gone.

I was largely walking under the canopy of trees, but occasionally to either side great grassy meadows would open up.

By 9 AM, it was as light as it was likely to get, which was sort of a dull twilight gray. I was a roadwalking again, past small farms and houses where the trees thinned out.

I passed through a small village, which might have been Peruscallo, and the Camino went back to the gravel path through the trees. 

Once again there were low, tumbledown mossy stone walls on one side of the path or the other for long stretches, and I could see them also in the fields marking boundaries.

I am reminded again of just how ancient human habitation in this land is. Before Spain, you had León. Before León, Asturias. Before Asturias, the Moors. Before the Moors, the Visigoths. Before the Visigoths, the Romans. Before the Romans, the Celts. Before the Celts, the Iberians. And before the Iberians? There is evidence of human and Neanderthal habitation of this region for more than 100,000 years.

It’s hard to wrap your head around, and somehow all of this is evoked by a simple stone wall, hand made of boulders and covered by moss, falling down for centuries.

I passed through innumerable villages and farmsteads, which seemed to bleed one into the next, before reaching the village of Morgade at about 9:35 AM. This was, of course, where I had originally planned to spend last night.

I walked through the little village and into the countryside beyond. The albergue and café was almost another kilometer past that. I stopped in for a quick second breakfast.

Just past the café, there was a little open chapel. The interior was whitewashed and covered in graffiti, but I stopped here a moment to pray for the intentions of the Camino before walking on down the rough gravel road into the woods and fields.

The rain has stopped, at least for the moment, but the temperature has dropped noticeably, and I put my gloves on.

At 10:30 I entered the village of Ferreiros, which meant that the marker signaling the last hundred kilometers was close to hand. I passed by the church at Mirallos, with its lovely Romanesque archivolt. It was, of course, locked.

I ran into an older gentleman here named Ron, who asked me to take a photo of him by the church, which I happily did. We then soon reached 100 km marker, and we were able to take photos of each other there. We walked together for the next 5 km or so, discussing things as pilgrims do. The terrain was over rolling hills through woods and meadows, and at some point not only had the rain stopped, but the sun came out.

Ron was needing to move a little slower, so we parted ways about noon, but not before he prayed for me, which I found to be incredibly moving. Over the last 24 hours, the Lord has sent several angels in disguise to me, and I am profoundly grateful.

I began the descent into the town of Portomarín at about 12:35. This includes a part that sort of resembles a slide more than a path. It’s tricky enough, particularly in wet weather, that there are two different complementary routes around it. I took the original route. A fun challenge, but obviously very slow going down.

The town of Portomarín was relocated to its present location due to the construction of a dam on the river in 1956. Several structures, including the fortress-like 13th century church of San Juan (a.k.a. San Nicolás) were relocated uphill, stone by stone. This particular church features a  portal by Master Mateo, the artistic genius responsible for much of the medieval portions of the Cathedral in Santiago.

The water in the reservoir was low enough that I could actually see the older bridge underneath the current one, as well as some walls and other remains of the original city.

Famously, at the end of the bridge there is a stairway up into the town.

I entered the town at 1 PM with the idea of grabbing some lunch and visiting the church. Well, the church was locked up, but I was able to get a delicious bowl of Caldo Gallego across the plaza.

In the café, I met up with Shawn from Ottawa, who I hadn’t seen since the day we left Logroño together. I figured he would be well ahead of me, given how fast he walks. Apparently he had caught a bug in Burgos and it delayed him a couple of days. He filled me in on some of the old gang, who are all a day or two behind us. He is staying in Portomarín tonight, but I was moving on.

I left just before 2 o’clock in a fine mood. It was cool, but sunny, and a cold wind was blowing. I kept my poncho hanging off my backpack just in case.

I had decided to end my day in Gonzar, which was another 8 km. The Camino took me down a circuitous route to the river and across on a different bridge in a totally different direction. Across the river, there was a maze of alternate routes, all about same length. I picked one that took me uphill on a wide and beautiful gravel path through forest and beside a bluff.

I hadn’t walked more than 2 km when it started to drizzle again. The path took a couple of crazy turns, including a short section of roadwalking. According to my app, even the rerouted sections have been rerouted a couple of times now. I decided to just keep following the physical signs on the ground. Anyway it had stopped raining, and the sun was back out.

Soon enough I was back to walking on a gravel path next to a two-lane road that looked suspiciously like one I had been rerouted from earlier.

At about 2:50 PM, the Camino went back over the road and down lovely dirt path flanked by hedges.

After this, the rain was intermittent, and it seemed to coincide with the path’s proximity to the highway. Eventually the path entered a forest of oaks, and the rain again stopped entirely.

Even after leaving the shelter of the trees briefly, the rain did not return. To the left I could see wild forest hills with only the occasional visible house or road.

The Camino returned to the side of the road, and I braced myself for rain. Surprisingly, it did not come, and I was soon back under the trees.

I entered the village of Gonzar at approximately 3:30 PM. There’s not much to the village, and the place I’m staying is attached to the only restaurant or café in town.

Date: 20 October 2023

Place: Gonzar 

Today started: Barbadelo 

Today’s Photos!