We woke up to a cool clear morning in Lavacolla. Everyone was packed up and ready to roll at 8 and off we went. Since Kiernan and I had overshot the day before we got to reclimb a big hill but this time we were not being rained on and it was much prettier.
We walked through area that was definitely more suburban than country. There were still dairy buildings and the Galacia consistent smell of manure.
Now there were also lots of speedy busses and lots more pilgrims.
We stopped for one last bar breakfast and heard other groups reviewing their journeys and interviewing other tables about theirs.
We put our bags on and climbed the smallish last hill of Monte de Gozo. This is the first place where you can see Santiago.
It’s a little park on top of a hill with some statues and I’ve read it’s where people who live in the city take their kids and dogs. It’s where church groups go and joggers jog to. All to get a taste of the Camino.
Then we walked down into the city. The way was packed. It was mostly pilgrims/hikers but there were definitely some locals too.
It’s not a pretty entrance to the city. There are lots of impacts to the senses, with traffic and a highway crossing and immediately the noise and car smells and advertisements and hustle of not-the-woods.
There were some cool statues though.
Not surprisingly the path leads straight to the old town and it’s much prettier there. It’s packed with small shops and bars and people but it’s restricted from car traffic and we were all looking eagerly for the cathedral.
Once you are in town you can’t see it. There are lots of backpacks to follow and signs and there’s always the helpful phone maps.
We went into an area clearly fancier than all the rest and heard the bagpipes. There are almost always bagpipes by the cathedral.
I love this!
We stopped to take pictures and pay the piper and then walked out of a little tunnel into the the cathedral square.
I have always found this cathedral to be too ornate. It looks gaudy in pictures and overblown.
In person it’s much more beautiful.
The large open area in front was full of people with their phone cameras out. Sitting on the ground, standing in tight little groups, wandering around in a daze, some crying some singing some giving high fives.
We took the phot of a guy who was from Mexico who had been walking since Pamplona. Then he took one of us and we congratulated each other.
I headed straight to the pilgrims office because I’d heard the wait was horrendous. I wanted to get my number early so I could wander around and eat and see things without losing my place.
I got to the office and scanned a QR code outside and filled out a form with name, dates of travel, method of travel, motivation, starting point, and agreement to their privacy policy.
Kiernan is not religious and didn’t want a Compostela. They also have a certificate of distance so I tried to sign him up for only that.
I got emailed two more QR codes and then the bouncer type guy in front of the building sent me in without a wait. I walked down a hallway into an mva style office and when my number was called went up to a desk with Kiernan in tow.
We got an American lady who was from New York by way of Hawaii and found herself in Spain.
She was super friendly and asked us to confirm the info from the online form then asked to see my pilgrims passport. She put an official stamp at the beginning and the end with a date on it and shook my hand. She asked if I wanted a record of distance certification as well for an extra 3€. I said yes and then it was Kiernan’s turn.
She asked him the same questions but when she asked for his pilgrims passport I showed her the napkin and washed pieces plus the new Spanish one we bought at the bar outside Arzua. She stood up from her chair to see the counter top. She laughed and laughed and told us that was something she had never seen before. We were more than a little worried ever since the morning we found his credential in a mushed up washed up ball that he would be denied certification.
She said I hope you got a picture of that. Then she said “Kiernan, honey I am not going to make you walk that again! Be grateful you have someone willing to do your laundry. Nobody will wash my clothes.” Then she shook his hand and gave him a Compostela as well. He didn’t want it but he very graciously took it and thanked her and confirmed that he too wanted a certificate of distance.
Here are my mine.
This was easy for me but much more complicated for Michelle.
This certification is clearly designed for Catholics. I am not Catholic but they have changed the wording in recent years to the broader “Christian Spirit” and then made it the slightly more ambiguous “religious” on some parts of the forms.
Michelle is Jewish.
Given the whole difficult and complicated history of Spain and their treatment of people who were Jewish, this trip has had a wholly more complex tone for her.
One way or another each of us chose and received documentation at the office and we gathered again to reward ourselves with a big lunch.
The little cafe in the shadow of the cathedral and across from a templar chapel served three possible menus. The daily menu, Camino menu, the finishers menu. They were basically small medium and large versions of fancy fresh stuff mostly seafood.
I got Kiernan the Finishers menu because he is always hungry and has gotten even thinner on this trip. He had, I think, four courses of fancy seafood for 19€.
They brought him scallops on the shell. We have been seeing and carrying these shells since Sarria and it was weirdly delightful to see them as food.
There were pigeons everywhere looking for food. Michelle saw one with an injured foot.
It had hair or string wrapped around its toes. One toe was wrapped so tightly it looked like it might be falling off.
Did she capture this pigeon and have Chris use my first aid kit scissors to cut and unwind all the string?
Of course she did!
After that we split up. Her to clean off bird poop and us to find our lodgings.
This was the end of the group togetherness.
What a great group. I am so proud of us and grateful to each person, without whom this would have been a poorer experience.
We are staying at an RV/campground place. It’s 2.2km from the cathedral. I figured we would walk towards it until we saw a cab then get a ride for the rest of the way.
We walked and saw lots of cabs but no cab stands. We saw a ton of busses but figured 2.2 km was fine.
It was fine for me. It was fine for Kiernan. It was not fine for mom.
Have you ever watched a soccer match where the players all wilt and fall during overtime. It’s like they had just enough energy to get there and that’s it.
That was mom. She was gasping and stopping every block.
We found a guy in a cab zone but he waved us off and insisted that he was not a cab.
Why would he be?
We made it.
We were broiling hot and tired. The check in was smooth. Everyone started out with good English which was a little confusing but then made more sense as we realized we were surrounded by retirement aged Brit’s and Germans.
Moms backpack was waiting for us. This is where I do a heartfelt Jacotrans cheer. If you wind up doing this and you want to use luggage transport they have been fantastic. They are reliable and affordable and prompt.
Our bungalow is small compared to what we’ve been in and has some very 70s textiles going on but like everywhere else we’ve been in Spain it is blessed with infinite high pressure hot water.
We dropped our bags and claimed beds and went to sleep.
We had pre-purchased tickets for the cathedral rooftop tour for 5pm so when it was 4 mom and I got a local bus back to the cathedral to meet up with Michelle and Chris.
I heard about this tour from Master Morían (a great SCA guy) when he did a Camino lecture at Haven.
I looked it up and was determined to try it if I could.
Kiernan wanted to rest and had no clean dry clothes. I brought 3 changes of clothing which worked in washing rotation except when it was super wet. Kiernan brought 2. He was just plain out. So we left him and a pile of laundry and headed downtown.
It was looking stormy but we were game.
The rooftop tour is in Spanish but the guide, Sarah, said that more than half the group didn’t speak Spanish so she was going to do an English summary at the end. She also answered questions.
We climbed up about 3 flights of stairs and came out onto a sort of balcony choir loft thing at the back of the cathedral.
Above us was an old broken rosette window and across from us the main alter of the church.
Then we went through a rectangular room with cool arches and up many more flights of stairs.
A low open doorway led out to the roof.
We filed out the door and onto the roof. This tour simply would not fly in the US and I applaud Spain for it. There were no hand rails, no warnings about heart attacks or fear of heights and, relevant to this story, no qualms about letting some tourists loose during a storm.
Shortly after getting out onto the roof it started drizzling. One we were all up on the ridge line or all the way across the sky opened up and the lightning and thunder started. Sarah calmly continued saying whatever it was about the tower clock not being a the original.
We were getting very wet and seeing a the lightning flash when an older Korean lady said “Go down!” With fair enthusiasm.
Sarah looked around and said we could certainly go down if we wanted.
Then it began cats and dogs, sheets of rain, pouring. People were holding each others hands and inching across the stones. We got back through the little door and Sarah said “There is more if you want to go up”. About a third of us didn’t. I did. The top of the tower was covered so there was some dry, depending on which side you were on.
We were right across from the bells.
I must say here that I was conflicted about all of this. I love heights and I hate lightning. I particularly don’t want to be around lightning up high and outside.
The church is very old and there were lots of lightning rods (I asume). The stone felt safe and the views were spectacular. I felt very much like I was having an adventure.
Chis was loving it even more than I was. He was positively giddy to be up on the roof.
I’m so glad we did that.
I was drenched to the skin and leaving small puddles behind me when I finally went down.
It was about 6 o’clock.
Mom and I headed to the bus stop. It was past time to feed Kiernan (who wanted to try Spanish Dominoes) and I was tired and wet and the temperature had dropped considerably with the storm.
The bus was supposed to come every half hour. After 45 minutes we started getting really worried. Were we at the right stop? Was it an express or special bus? We decided to try for a cab. We went to a taxi stand just as one drove off. No others came. We tried another bus stop.
No luck.
We went to where we’d gotten off the bus and finally got one going the wrong way hoping to loop around.
We got to the end of the line and got charged again because it’s a euro each way and not a euro per ride.
At about 8 we got back, shudderingly cold.
Mom was nearly incoherent with it. I sent her to the shower and made up her bed. Then I went to start our laundry and find food.
There is a restaurant associated with the campsite but it’s weirdly fancy and expensive.
The guy working the desk said I should go to the mall 2 blocks over to get pizza at the food court. I went to switch the laundry to the dryer.
Then off to the giant mall.
This mall is 4 stories tall. The bottom has a Costco style grocery store and the top is all restaurants.
I ordered 2 pizzas then went down to grab snacks and breakfast stuff at the grocery store.
I walked back to the campground, restarted the dryer, and gave Kiernan a whole pizza and a bag of chips.
It was 10 when I folded the laundry.
28,530 steps and just a lot of things happened.
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