Favorite Moments

It's 500 miles from St. Jean Pied-de-Port to Compostella. To the best of my figuring, in 32 days I walked 472 miles. In order to make an appointment at the University of Leon, I did ride the train for about 30 miles. Twice, I hopped on a bus for about 7 miles each time in order to arrive at a particular historic site before the siesta closing at 2:00. Three times, however, I walked off the Camino, adding miles in order to visit sites--the chapel at Eunate, the convent at Samos, and the church at Vilar de Donas. So, 472 miles on foot. That's almost 15 miles per day. Some days and miles were harder than others. Here are 5 places I'd go back to in a second--these are places I carry with me in fresh and vivid memory.

Estella--I had been in the country for four or five days, and I'd already seen the beautiful city of Pamplona with its wonderful sites and splendid gardens. Nevertheless, Estella was the first place that I really encountered the people of Spain. I took a room on the second floor of a small Pension (locally run, low-cost hotel) that was located on the town plaza. That night, the people came out to walk and play. The inside-out culture of Spain was enticing--everyone emerged from his or her un-air-conditioned homes to socialize, and I was invited. The next day was a Thursday, and I saw my first plaza market. In Estella, Spain became more than old buildings and books.

Astorga--everything my academic heart could desire. It had Roman ruins--a villa, bath, Roman gravestones and markers, and old gates. It had been a medieval town with walls and towers existing since the 10th century. Three churches built in the 12th century and a cathedral in 15th-century gothic with a museum tantalized my interest in religious history. What about living history?--Benedictine brothers invited me to say the Matins overnight, a ritual they have kept for 1,200 years. Fantasy and Art?--it had the surreal palace built in the 19th century by the designer Gaudi. Mystery?--the brotherhood of the gonfalon is reputed to still have the 8th-century flag of Saint James . . . but no one has seen it publicly for nearly two hundred years. Plus it had the Museum of Chocolate! How could Astorga have been better?

O Cebreiro--the steepest climb of the trip. A brilliant, sunny day with the mountains of Galicia revealed in their full glory. And at the top of the climb, a village with stone, peasant huts remaining since the 8th century--a step back through time. A 12th-century church containing the chalice associated with a communion miracle validated by the Vatican. A Celtic bagpipe player piped old tunes while the stars emerged in a pristine sky; mountains became looming, dark forms all around, and villages glimmered as distant clusters of light in valleys mile away.

The Long Walk--Burgos to Castrojeriz. Possibly my most crazy day on the trip. I walked across Spain's high desert. It was just over 100 degrees, and the landscape was flat and brown and reminded me of home. I just kept walking down the narrow, dusty trail with the best company available to me--myself. I felt home. Hontanas emerged, a depression in the desert floor. All I could see was arid plain, and suddenly over a rise the trail sank into the town that seemed to lay like a mirage or an oasis in a depression. I walked on to San Anton, the long-deserted ruin of a great church dedicated to a 3rd-century saint of the African desert. San Anton had a huge rose window at one end of its collapsed sanctuary. It was a Tau window--once brilliant with stained glass, its framework was constructed from stones shaped like the Greek letter "T," a symbol of Christ and of the Knights Templar. By 8:30 that night, I finally came to Castrojeriz, too late to visit the old castle on the hill. I had walked 42 kilometers.

Santa Maria La Blanca--Frank Drenner was right; he commented in my blog weeks ago that this was my favorite day. I sat in the cavernous church that had been the 13th-century court of Alphonso X, El Sabio, and listened to the music of the Cantigas de Santa Maria. History, music, and literature were there, combined in sublime beauty. Whispers of three cultures blending in the spirit of an age. Even after three hours stay, the ability to leave Santa Maria was hardly within me. If you haven't had to opportunity to find the musical group Cantiga, my blog manager (my daughter, Kathleen, of course) has happily added a link to their site. Just look to the right under "Links" and click on "Cantiga: Renaissance Festival Band." Listen and imagine the music and the culture that created it being more than just echoes of the past.

I almost feel like apologizing for the sentimentality of rehashing my feelings for these places. Maybe I'm a little embarrassed at how much I loved some days on the trail. I miss the simple objective of walking down a marked trail and the joy of discovering the lives and spirit of the past revealed each day. Tomorrow, my last blog--I promise. I'm going to try to examine what I am bringing home--other than 1,200 digitally recorded photographs.