From Melide to Pedrouzo (O Pino)

 

 

 

Inexplicably, this morning my watch was set an hour ahead, and for this reason, without realising it, I got up at half past four.

Only later, while carrying out my usual preparations before departure, did Rocco point out that I was far too early.

Once I confirmed the correct time, I lay down again on the bed, trying to recover a bit of lost sleep.

 

At 6:20, we leave the hostel, fully aware that this penultimate stage will not be a simple approach to Santiago de Compostela: the route will require a certain effort both for the thirty-three kilometres to cover and for the continuous ups and downs that characterise it.

 

The sky is cloudy, but the clouds above us do not appear too threatening. For now, the chance of rain seems to be ruled out, but, as I have now learned, anything can happen because the weather can change within hours or just a few kilometres.

 

The group I start walking with is still the same.

Rocco, Giovanna, and Amandine have become steady companions, while Giulia is no longer with us, having decided a few days ago to proceed at a different pace.

 

Today’s itinerary mostly follows dirt paths, winding through the region’s typical forests: beautiful, dense, green, humid, and silent, much like the many others we have already crossed here in Galicia.

Along The Way, we encounter more wooded areas made up of eucalyptus trees. Though relatively slender, these are very tall trees; at a glance, I estimate them to be around thirty metres high, perhaps even more.

As I pass, I look up in vain hope of spotting a koala feeding on the eucalyptus leaves, just as I saw them in Australia; but here in Galicia, I know full well that no such marsupials exist, and my thought is just a “romantic” illusion.

I take deep breaths of the air, filled with the characteristic balsamic scent that not only clears the lungs but also stimulates the mind, refreshing ideas and aiding concentration.

 

As I approach the end of my journey on The Way, I find myself naturally rewinding the tape. I reflect on the diverse natural landscapes, masterfully crafted by Mother Nature, which I have seen gradually change as I moved along the route to Santiago de Compostela.

Starting from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, I cannot forget the splendid Pyrenean stage that I was fortunate enough to tackle under clear skies and bright sunshine. That day, while facing one of the most challenging climbs of the entire Way, I enjoyed breathtaking views of the green valleys. The elevation gain was significant: first reaching 1,430 metres before descending rather steeply to Roncesvalles and then continuing more gradually to Pamplona.

From there onwards, the mountains transformed into hills, and the slopes became gentler.

Fields of grain dominated the landscape in these regions, while vineyards took over in the province of Rioja, an area devoted to producing fine wine.

From Burgos to León, the landscape changed completely, becoming a vast, flat, treeless expanse. These were the so-called “mesetas,” the endless plateaus that challenge pilgrims in both summer and winter. The long stretches of nothingness between one village and another can become a real trial for those needing water, food, rest, or shelter from the blazing summer sun or winter storms.

Personally, I experienced these plateaus under mostly cloudy skies, with frequent showers and relatively low but not freezing temperatures. Despite this, I consider myself lucky because these conditions spared me from the intense heat.

The “mesetas” also stand out in my memory as the period when I suffered from severe shin pain, yet I continued walking without taking a single day off.

After so much solitude and time for reflection, the scenery changed again, radically: the plateaus gave way to the mountains of León and El Bierzo. Here I crossed several significant passes, including O Cebreiro, reaching 1,300 metres, and the one near La Cruz de Hierro, which marked the highest point of the entire Way at 1,500 metres.

Finally, the wide and lush valley of El Bierzo heralded the green Galicia, rich in dense forests. These same woods now accompany me through this final stretch of The Way, leading me first to Santiago de Compostela and then to the Atlantic Ocean, to that strip of land where, in ancient times, it was believed the world ended.

 

***

We have already been walking for over an hour since leaving Melide this morning.

Now we have arrived in Boente, where, in front of the Iglesia de Santiago, we meet the Spanish-Colombian group of friends—Roberto, Alexandra, and Mauricio.

They went to the church to have their Credenciales stamped with the sello (stamp) of Boente because, as they understand, in this final stretch of The Way, to obtain the Compostela, pilgrims must collect at least two stamps per day.

I had also heard about this rule, but as far as I know, it only applies to those starting from Sarria and walking the last hundred kilometres, not to us who began our journey in the distant Pyrenees.

Believing I already have enough stamps, I trust the rule I am aware of and continue collecting stamps only for daily stages and places I deem most significant.

 

While I am here, I take the opportunity to visit the church dedicated to Saint James in Boente.

It was built in the 12th century, but very little of the original Romanesque architecture remains today due to renovations carried out over the centuries.

The most interesting features inside are the altarpiece with the statue of Saint James and the entirely wooden ceiling; outside, the main attraction is the presence of three clocks on the façade—two mechanical and one sundial.

 

Throughout The Way, I have seen and photographed countless churches, many of which I have also visited inside. Often, as I have mentioned before, the church represented the only noteworthy monument in a village, and photographing it was a way to preserve the memory of that specific place.

From a quick estimate, I think I have photographed over two hundred churches.

 

***

It is ten o’clock when we arrive in Arzua, where the Northern Way joins the French Way.

This is another route to Santiago de Compostela, named so because it runs along the northern coast of the Iberian Peninsula, bordered by the Cantabrian Sea.

The itinerary starts in Irún, a Spanish town near the French border, just about fifty kilometres in a straight line from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port.

The Northern Way follows the coast until Ribadeo and then heads inland into Galicia, merging in Arzua with the French Way.

In total, the distance covered by the Northern Way to Santiago de Compostela is over 800 kilometres.

– So, no shortcuts! –

The length of this route matches that of the French Way, and the challenges are equally demanding.

Contrary to what one might initially think, this Way does not run at sea level, as the Cantabrian coast is largely hilly, with constant ups and downs, sometimes reaching significant altitudes of around 700 metres.

The beauty of the landscapes is undeniable, and pilgrims walking this route cannot help but be captivated by the views, painted with the green of the hills and the blue of the ocean.

 

***

As I pass through Arzua, I notice the Capela da Madalena and take a picture to add to my personal collection of churches along the French Way.

This small structure dates back to the 12th century, and its simple architecture bears witness to its Romanesque origins.

The church was once part of a convent that, in the past, cared for pilgrims, but today it has been converted into a hostel.

 

There are many moments along The Way when you encounter people, places, and situations that I am unsure whether to describe as “alternative” or “imaginative”; certainly, they are best described as “original.”

In this part of today’s route, about half an hour after Arzua, while walking through a forest, we come across a campsite managed by a young European man. He is dressed in traditional South American clothing, and his face is adorned with a long goatee braided into three strands—the only patch of hair framing his completely bald head.

Completing the quirky scene are a display of ceramic trinkets he has crafted, all themed around The Way, and a hammock, also reminiscent of Latin America, where he likely rests during the day and probably sleeps at night.

The most original feature of this setup, however, is a sleepy-looking donkey standing motionless not far from the camp.

Colorful bilingual signs prominently display the words “Donkey Stamp” and “Sello del Burro.”

Essentially, this whimsical “hobbit” of the forest, in addition to offering his handmade goods, has created his own personalised stamp featuring the image of the donkey, available for pilgrims who wish to mark their Credenciales with it.

 

After another couple of hours of walking, we reach Outerio.

Here, the highlight is the Tia Dolores Beer Garden, a bar-brewery-guesthouse that has decorated its spacious outdoor courtyard with an endless collection of empty beer bottles, each signed and dated by the customers who drank them.

The theme even extends to the beer brand—Cerveza Peregrina.

***

Between the towns of Salceda and Santa Irene, we come across a memorial stone commemorating a pilgrim who died here on 25 August 1993.

His name was Guillermo Watt, and he was 69 years old.

Many memorials can be found along the route to Santiago de Compostela, marking those who, at a certain point, continued their journey along the path to Heaven.

Each of these memorials evokes deep emotions over the tragic end to what was meant to be a spiritual experience, but Guillermo’s death strikes even harder because it occurred just one day before reaching his goal.

 

Today, we finish the stage around 15:00.

We have reached O Pedrouzo, and from here, there are only twenty kilometres left to Santiago de Compostela.

 

We find accommodation at the Albergue de peregrinos de la Xunta de Galicia, a large municipal hostel with one hundred and twenty beds, where we pay 6 Euros.

 

At the same hostel, we reunite with Giulia and meet many other pilgrims we have encountered during the last few stages.

We are all very excited to be so close to our goal.

To celebrate, we make plans to go out for dinner together.

 

Given the large number of pilgrims and tourists who flock to Santiago de Compostela every day, we decide to book our accommodation for tomorrow night in advance.

For logistical reasons and to fully savour the heart of Galicia’s capital, we want to stay somewhere close to the cathedral. For this reason, we rule out the public hostel in the Seminario Menor, which is farther from the city centre.

 

The afternoon flies by with showers, laundry, and lots of chatting; then, in the evening, as agreed, we meet our fellow pilgrims at a place not far from the hostel.

 

There are twelve of us in total, and besides my usual companions, there are also new pilgrims with whom strong friendships are forming.

Among the newcomers are Antonio from Seville, Barbara from Lucca, Rodrigo, an Argentinian living in the Canary Islands, Arnold from Switzerland, and finally Martina, originally from Hungary but now living in Germany.

 

Martina reminds me that I was the first pilgrim she spoke to at the start of her journey.

Now that she mentions it, I remember this lone girl who seemed to be struggling. I asked her then if she needed any help, and after reassuring me that she was fine, I continued on my way.

 

The evening unfolds in high spirits, as if it were the last day of school, and ends with a round of “chupitos” orchestrated by Antonio from Seville.

 

Despite the festivities, we do not go to bed too late because tomorrow, on the day we arrive in Santiago de Compostela, the alarm clock will ring at four in the “madrugada.”

 

© Aldo Lardizzone 2020

CREATIVE COMMONS