Ponferrada

Indulge my rememberance. When I was eleven and living in Virginia, my family took a little trip up to see the Civil War battlefield at Gettysburg, PA. Like most boys my age, I was fascinated with anything having to do with the Civil War. We visited the Lutheran Seminary near where the engagement began, and we went to the park headquarters, but then, to my horror, a cold, light rain began to fall. My parents made a crazy decision that I´ve never forgotten. They made button up my sweater, then put my older brother´s sweater on over it and told me to go out a have a good time. I saw Little Round Top where Chamberlain won a Medal of Honor with the 20th Maine. I saw the unrelenting boulders in Devil´s Den where so many died. But most memorably I watched in my mind as Pickett´s broken lines crossed the terrifyingly flat field where Virginia died.

Today, eleven-year-old Jerry showed up in Ponferrada. Yes, the adult in me visited the museums and looked at the prehistoric and Roman artifacts. I photographed the churches. But people--there´s a castle here. The Knights Templar! Imagine them returning home in the early 1100s having won Jerusalem back to Christianity. What secrets did they find in the Holy Land? As the castle walls rose, they offered protection to the pilgrims walking to Compostella. Somehow, that same cold rain began to fall, and I just couldn´t help myself. A sensible adult would have sought out a warm cafe, but I raced across the walls--stopping at every slit to check for seige towers or attackers. The remains of the old chapel and the knight´s hall called up ancient ceremonies, lost since the order was excommunicated by the pope in the early 1300s. For goodness sakes--there were even ramps to roll large rocks down on the heathens, and a great keep, and a secret tunnel that led down to the river. What boy could want for more?

Okay, I´m back to my fifty-one-year-old self. I´ve walked all the way to Villafranca del Bierzo, and I haven´t even found a place to stay for the night. I guess I´ll go and do the sensible thing--now, at least.