Camino Diary 2010

THE END

19 Aug 2010 Well folks, its all but over now. Now in Santiago and already have the train ticket back to France which will be tomorrow.
Arrived here on last Sunday morning feeling wretched after a cold sleepless night waiting for a bus to here in Ponferrada. The less said about that the better – still feeling angry about the situation I ended up in. A good friend of mine, Neil, had decided to come to Santiago de Compostela and spend a few days, so we did a bit of exploring.
Santiago itself had many similarities with the cathedral towns I saw on the way except that the number of pilgrims is quite overwhelming, plus a large contingent of ordinary tourists – like me for instance. Affordable accommodation is of course hard to find in such circumstances but as Neil arrived the day before me, that problem had already been sorted. Thanks Neil.

Neil Rees

Monument to General Moore

For a day trip we took the train to A Coruna which is a port city on the coast north of Santiago. It was great to smell the fresh sea air again after such a long time in land locked CZ Rep. However, during my travels I had heard of an incident that happened there during the Napoleonic wars in the early 1800s. A Coruna has at least 2 distinct links with Britain – the first in 1589 when we went there to have a go at the Spanish fleet to stop them doing anything again, like in 1588. The second we were on the Spanish side trying to kick Napoleon out of Spain but it turned into one of those glorious defeats we seem to be so proud of. General Sir John Moore, senior officer, was killed there (Jan 1809) whilst keeping the French at bay so that his troops could board ships and scuttle back to England in true Dunkirk fashion. His French counterpart was so impressed with Sir John’s bravery that he set up a memorial to the gallant lad. A small park just above the old harbour area is exclusively dedicated to this fallen hero.

Roman lighthouse. A Coruna. Original Roman stonework inside

The square in A Coruna

The towers of Santiago de Compostela

Tourism

The pilgrims office where they get their Camino certificate.

Bust of General Moore in Coruna park.

What about the camino, I hear you say? To put it simply – its just a very long walk with some interesting places along the way. Some of it I found to be very boring but many of the cities or towns were great places to wander. The most striking features were the narrow streets and the many pavement cafes to relax in. I missed out a large section (about 120km) between Burgos and Leon because of its flatness and the heat. The last 100 km, I thought, was to be avoided at all costs because of the huge numbers going along that section. This last 100km is significant because it’s the only part that has to be done to get a Camino certificate. I dropped out of that one.
There you have it. A strange but interesting month.

LOOKS LIKE PONFERRADA TOMORROW!!

13August 2010

Manjatin

the last templar

It seems I will have to be in Ponferrada tomorrow which will be a bit of a rush to try to get a bus to Compostela. Nothing is certain. However, had an interesting walk and saw an ancient cross where pilgrims place a stone. This has been going on for rather a long time now so the pile has the beginnings of a hill now. Also at a place called Manjatin the last Templar can be found, or that's what he likes to be known as. Funny how all religions attract people like this. Also a shot of my trusty old boots that will go into retirement when all this is over.
Just to finish with here's a movie about Foncebadon. D

EL GANSO

EL GANSO

10 Aug I am sure you are all familiar with the name of the village El Ganso. But those not so well informed it’s about 14km from my next stop which is much better known, Foncebadon. Still none the wiser? Take it from me its in Northern Spain, somewhere.
El Ganso, which I found in a guide book, yesterday, has one thing going for it. According to the guide it has some examples of ancient thatched roofs. In the 12th century it was the site of a hospital and monastery. That’s a lot of information to take in so let’s elaborate further for the sake of confusion.



I can understand there being a hospital once if the guy’s feet in the next bunk are anything to go by. Both his feet are swathed in plasters and stained yellow from the iodine he’s been using. These sorts of sights really do make one wonder at the mentality of the Comino community. He has just spent about an hour poking, prodding and replacing his complex array of various heavy duty dressings. What’s all this got to do with El Ganso – not a lot but its disgusting enough to be interesting, isn’t it.





I think the grammar in the guide was a little out because I think they meant to say, ‘….had some examples…..’ because all I have come across are collapsing walls, gable ends and a couple of barely surviving thatch roofs from the mid nineteenth century. Perhaps the stonewall building skills comes from the Celtic times here.


All along the Camino I have seen silent and deserted building sites, and cranes that haven’t moved for months. Now the property market is awash with property for sale as can be seen even in El Ganso (se vende). They are trying to sell anything – a wall of all things! Perhaps it’s an historical monument. But this village of no more than a 100 people, is crumbling away through age and neglect. Perhaps if the economy hadn’t become so dire, people from the towns and cities would still be thinking of a country cottage here.

The ‘Gabino’ albergue is fine and as it’s the only one in the village (16beds). This morning a veritable army of walkers emerged out of Astorga. I didn’t realize just how many there were until I, and several others, took a wrong path. Returning along towards a bridge that was the correct way, I saw to my horror an almost endless line of walkers crossing it, at 7.30 in the morning! When I was going to Astorga yesterday morning there was not the same numbers of people so I can only guess that a lot of them had started in Astorga. This all made me wonder about room at the small albergues along this part.


The bar (Bar Cowboy) has some wacky locals hanging around it. I met one guy called Pedro in the bar who is contributing handsomely to Spain’s financial deficit. His English was pretty good and he seemed very proud to be receiving a large quantity of euros a month because he has ‘something wrong with his head’. For pleasure only, he claimed, he teaches maths to friends and acquaintances. I think that just about sums it up.
But just after I arrived here at about 10.30 I met a couple of middle aged Americans riding collapsible bikes with small wheels. They’d come down through France and were doing the whole trail. Another incredibly sun blackened guy of indeterminable age, who according the barman was completely ‘loco’, punctuated his conversation with loud earsplitting knocks on the heavy wooden table. When the barman began to imitate this unusual form of self expression, El Loco thought he’d found a friend for life. The last I saw of him was when he was bedding down in the church porch.