Day 25.2
Trabadelo to Fonfría del Camino: 32 Kilometres
Whether I was frustrated, in pain, sad or happy, I always encountered rich, textured experiences that uplifted my soul on the Camino. It was like an unusual sign from the Field of Stars. Life flowed, and I flowed with it. I made a point to keep smiling, keep trusting, and stay open to every marvellous opportunity.
This was the day that the Camino officially relieved me entirely from all that was unnecessary, all that was superfluous, all that was confusing, and left me knowing that each of us has all we need, all the time. We need to acknowledge it. I was the only one who was responsible for my actions. I took the initiative and decluttered my mind from all the junk related to stress and chaos. I discovered that ridding myself of this junk opened a clean and fresh space for positive things to crawl in and reside peacefully.
There was a track with two marker points after one kilometre on the path. One of the routes was for those doing the Camino by bicycle; the other was for those on foot. The Camino climbed upwards and grew steeper through chestnut woods for about three and a half kilometres until we reached O Cebreiro. The forest was terrible for my hay fever. This was the most horrific, tiring, and deadly hill we endured on the Camino. The wind and cold also contributed to the challenge of the hill. Our glances at each other told our individual stories — we wanted to burst into tears. Our minds told us to stop, our brain screamed at us, and our legs grew numb. The more we walked, the steeper the path became. I prayed the rosary for strength. I prayed the rosary more than twenty times. I never prayed the rosary as many times as I prayed it on that hill. I was sure the Virgin Mary must have thought this child had lost the plot.
Eventually, I changed from repeating the rosary to counting my steps. It was boring. I called Wilma, who was a few steps ahead of me. “Doll, we can do this.”
“Where did this fucking hill come from?” she replied. I said: “Who the fuck knows. Let us carry on, doll, remember there is always light at the end of the tunnel.” Laurel and Hardy were exhausted, too. Having reached this point, and after another left turn, a steep, spiral climb led us among chestnut and oak trees. Every passing pilgrim also complained about this atrocious hill. We repeated Buen Camino every few minutes. Who wants to say Buen Camino at this point? The right words will be: Save me. Get me out of here. I am tired.
If I knew it would be so chilly and windy, I would have opted for the cyclist route. I was obsessive-compulsive and thus needed to follow the rules and regulations for the pilgrim route, although I could contradict my choices. I was a typical Leo. At last, we arrived at Calle Santiago into La Faba. La Faba was a small centre on a hill. There was beautiful architecture in the village. By now, we had difficulty breathing upon our arrival at Auberge Vegetariano. Wilma ordered lentil soup, and I had a packet of my favourite chips. This auberge offered only vegetarian meals, as you can notice from its name. We sat at the bar, looked at each other in awe, and nearly burst into tears. We had no choice but to recuperate our strength.
However, we sat outside in the sun for over an hour. We listened to some arrogant pilgrim speak about himself and his money in a loud and annoying voice. He thought he could do anything with his money. He had insecurity written all over his face. His arrogance and snobbish acts were decidedly unwelcome. He called out to us and said: “Hey, you two, where are you from?”
I replied: “Are you addressing me?”
“I am,” he replied in a rude tone. I didn’t feel like talking to him, so I ignored him and continued my conversation with my mate. Why doesn’t he get over himself? I hope the Camino showed him some humbleness. Wilma and I mumbled our frustration to each other. He was the most unpleasant pilgrim that we encountered. He needed to lower his head a bit; we both thought. Money could not buy class. Oh! Well! We learn every day.
I reminded myself repeatedly not to judge others. I was not perfect! Just because I was exhausted and irritated, it did not give me the right to be rude. Maybe the Peregrino was a good man and had good intentions after all. I felt bad for ignoring him, and I failed to be noble. As a Christian, I should have practised compassion and understanding. It was a lesson in wisdom, and in the process, I gained a sense of peace and contentment. All of this was born from forgiveness.
There were signs throughout the town that offered to hire a horse to carry on until O Cebreiro. We did not understand why anyone would hire a horse. We filled up our water bottles at the fountain of La Faba. I visited the small Church of Saint Andrew, thanking Jesus for all the strength He gave us before heading toward Laguna de Castilla, the last village in León. Its stone houses with thatched roofs were typical Galician architectural style. There was a large hórreo, corn storage, in the town. In no time, we passed several marker stones at the exit of the village. These marker stones appeared every five hundred meters until we reached Santiago, a scallop shell, and the nearest village’s name. History recalled, on a plaque, that right here, a group of German hikers died. May their souls rest in peace.
We took it easy on the way to O Cebreiro. We stretched our legs and warmed up in the first kilometre. We left León and entered Galicia. I left my white Bikram Yoga top at the large and colourful marker stone that indicated we officially entered Galicia. We took a break to enjoy the majestic view of the surrounding landscape. Our morning was mostly bumpy cobbled hills, hills, and more hills until this point. This was another physically and mentally demanding stage with the descent to O Cebreiro. We descended to 700 meters in a short span, although the view was extraordinary. The path snaked between trees that offered intermittent shade from the sun. Now, just one last effort remained to crown the stage and access the long-awaited Cebreiro. After the previous few obligatory photos were taken and passed in front of a stone cross, we approached O Cebreiro.
O Cebreiro, here we were! It was the first village in Galicia on the Camino Francés. O Cebreiro was crowded with cyclists, walking pilgrims, pilgrims on horses, and the lazy lot of pilgrims exiting buses or their cars. This last lot of human beings gave us strange looks; it was like our walk was a piece of cake! Oh well! What do they know? We took a photo next to the pilgrim’s statue outside Artesania Grial.
O Cebreiro was the main gateway to Galicia. The sweeping views of traditional stone and thatched roof houses and the surrounding landscape were magical. This town was a mythical place, surrounded by magic and mystery with its oldest intact church along the whole Camino, la Iglesia de Santa María La Real. Several books indicated the church was founded by Benedictine monks but came under French monks’ control after the monastery was given to the French Order by King Alfonso VI in the eleventh century.
This monastery remained in their control until the Catholic Monarchs. Ferdinand and Isabella granted it to the Benedictines. The monastery was subsequently abandoned during the Confiscation of Mendizabal in 1853. Similar action to that of the dissolution of the monasteries occurred in the United Kingdom in the mid of the sixteenth century. Don Elias Valiña Sampedro, the parish priest, initiated a major renovation to the church in the 1960s and ’70s. The Holy Grail was believed to be hidden in this church during the Middle Ages, but the object referred to a miracle from the fourteenth century.
The story told of Barxamaior, a parishioner from a nearby village. Barxamaior climbed through the heavy snow of a blizzard to hear the mass. The priest, performing the Eucharist, had a momentary lapse of faith when he consecrated the bread and wine, but he saw this parishioner in front of him. The priest thought: What is this man doing here in this cold weather to see a piece of bread and little wine?
At this point, the miracle occurred, the bread turned to flesh, and the wine became blood. It became known locally as el Santo Grail Gallego or the Galician Holy Grail.
Don Elias Valiña Sampredo spearheaded the effort to place markers on the Camino de Santiago. This amazing man undertook the Camino but found that many of the original paths had virtually disappeared. He decided to write a Camino guide book, published in 1982. He then painted yellow arrows to mark the entire Camino with the help of his nephews in 1984. The large yellow arrows were painted with yellow paint recruited from the Spanish Ministry of Transportation. He became a member of the Comisario del Camino de Santiago, the body tasked with promoting the Camino and getting others involved in 1985. He built upon this foundational organization to expand to the Amigos del Camino de Santiago, Friends of the Camino.
