In the mornings, pilgrims can be seen all along the Camino, each moving at his or her own pace. We always greet each other, and sometimes you adjust your stride to walk together for a while. There's a sort of spontaneous etiquette. Names are rarely given. You say where you are from, but who you are and what you do are irrelevant here, like information from another planet. We talk about the Camino, why we've come and what it's doing for us.
Most of those I meet aren't devout Catholics, or Catholics at all. There's a large party of German schoolchildren for whom it's a challenge and fun. A group from Ireland, of both faiths, are raising pounds , for a multiple sclerosis charity. Some are walking miles for the tenth time.
There's a French lady who must be 70, walking on her own. She's been on the road a month, and finds fewer people to chat to as she speaks French and nothing else. But in a place where path merges with stream, and we have to pick our way up a steep incline over slippery rocks, she easily keeps pace with me, and talks effortlessly despite the climb. A Dutch lady, probably in her sixties, had walked from her home in Holland.
It had taken her more than four months. She was alone, having split up with her companions in central France because they walked at different speeds. When I asked her why she was doing the walk, she said simply that it was a thing you did just once in your life. No one can quite put their finger on why they are here, but interestingly no one regrets it. They've responded to a challenge, both physical and moral.
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They're here for peace and time to think. There are things they want to leave behind, and things they want to know about themselves. On the Camino you are never alone, but you are always alone with your thoughts, day after day, to the rhythm of your stride.
One man tells me that some people come for a laugh, but they're soon absorbed by the Camino. It grabs you with its mysticism. We are part of a never-ending flow of humanity that has gone on for centuries, the longest-running continuous event that I can think of. Some say this procession has its origins in pagan times, and didn't need the body of St James to make it happen.
Pilgrim's way: Spain the hard way
My companion remarks that for each of us, there's the experience of the Camino itself, and a before and an after the Camino: We are in Celtic country, where people play mournful pipe music, including bagpipes. There's talk of witchcraft, and we are urged not to walk the Camino at night.
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At night, we prepare a huge cauldron of burning alcohol called queimada. You stir it with a ladle and, lifting some of the liquid high above the pot, pour it back in a flaming cascade of agua ardiente, burning water. When the brew is ready, we read a poem about scary spirits, and shout, 'Witches away! Some pilgrims of course are here for traditional Catholic reasons. I walk with three middle-class ladies from Madrid, all in their fifties, who tell me they are housewives and grandmothers.
They're doing the walk to give thanks, make a sacrifice and do penance. They are staying at the pilgrim refuges, where free accommodation is available. You bring your sleeping bag and spend the night in a large communal room, on a bunk bed if you are lucky. There's no separation of the sexes. For these ladies, the communal living is a far greater hardship than the blisters on their feet or the weight of the packs on their backs. They complain of poor hygiene and noisy nocturnal neighbours. After four months of such conditions, as we approach Santiago, the Dutch woman confesses that she's written in her diary, 'No more refuges, thank God!
I feel rather guilty that I'm not sharing their hardship. The travel agent has booked me mainly into country guesthouses, family-run, with maybe just three or four bedrooms to let.
Pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela in the Gers
Galicia abounds with wide cottages of dark stone with low roofs of ochre-coloured tiles. Large numbers of these now take guests. The meals are excellent, though there may be no choice on offer. It's basic food, brilliantly prepared. A broccoli soup sprinkled with almond hake and clams in a sizzling casserole capon in a rich, dark sauce with boiled potatoes soft cheese with honey or quince jelly. Your hosts will try to overfeed you, especially at lunchtime, and cluck about anxiously if you don't finish every scrap.
These cottages are set on green slopes, or in hamlets of a few houses, with horses grazing between dry-stone walls. The tranquillity is absolute. You can expect to pay between pounds 16 and pounds 20 for a double room, and pounds 8 or so for a meal. I set out early each morning, to do my 20 kilometres by lunch.
I use the afternoons to tend my wounds. After a few days, my left foot has a blister and my right leg shows signs of tendonitis. I am well prepared for blisters, and the special plasters I've brought with me relieve the pain. The ankle is more complicated, and in every village I visit the chemist looking for new remedies. I bathe my feet in the bidet each night in a solution of salts. I bandage the leg, and lean more and more on my stick I could not have done without it.
In the end, I decide that my boots are the problem, and they must go. I have large feet and I know that most people in Spain don't, so when I go to a village shoe shop, it's a matter of buying anything that fits. They proudly produce a pair of size 12 Coq Sportif trainers which, after my mountain boots, feel like walking on air.
I am a new man, at least for a day or two, until new sores arise. Thank goodness I had good advice about equipment. It's essential to carry the least possible load on your back. I had very lightweight shirts and trousers, in quick-drying material. The trouser legs unzip to convert them into shorts, which is useful when it's raining.
You need a sun hat and a rain cape that covers your rucksack, and a sleeping bag and a mat if you're staying in the refuges. For therapeutic reasons we talk about " road therapy " for a sporting challenge, to cleanse the mind and to have a break from daily life, and, of course for a religious reason. Some associations are campaigning for new places to be listed in the years to come. Choose your itinerary , you have a choice between Via Podiensis and Via Tolosana. You can even combine the two by taking the auxiliary lane connecting Lectoure to Auch see map.
A lot of pilgrims do this and cover a few milestones section of road each year. Get the right equipment, rucksack and walking shoes. The pilgrimage roads are used by many people, they are quite secure and well signposted. Infrastructures have been developed along the way since the 11th century: The biggest expense is accommodation and then food.
Do it your way
Businesses benefit from the passage of pilgrims , without abusing them. In Lectoure , for example, there were more than 4, people going through town from the Via Podiensis. Restaurants, accommodation and guest houses are open to pilgrims at very reasonable prices. A community is created on the road and meals are moments of conviviality, sharing and solidarity. Also consult our section dedicated to the books of the Gers. An anecdote, for the road In Galicia , we find many of these scallop shells in the water these big grooved shells are also associated with Venus, the goddess of love.