We set out from Valcarce not quite knowing where we had spent the night. There was a little village called La Portella adjacent to the place we had stayed. The place we had stayed was definitely called Valcarce but we got to thinking that that might have been the name of the hotel/roadhouse chain, Valcarce - La Portella. A bit like BP Truckstop Dubbo or something. Anyway we set out from La Portella/Valcarce nice and early ready for the big climb to O'Cebreiro.
The first thing that struck us was that the scenery was stunning. We had known since walking over the mountains to get into Ponferrada that we had to walk back over them to get out. We had not known just how impressive they were up close. There seemed to be a bigness at play that we did not feel so much on our previous climb. Certainly the infrastructure was much more impressive. The image below does not really give scale to the height of the bridges that span the deep shaded valleys that flow through this part of Spain. But it helps.
We struck out on pretty flat ground for a while but after a few kilometeres we got away from the roads and villages and headed bush. The track became rocky and steep but was often shaded by tall overhanging trees and shrubs. The image below is not one of a path leading into the distance but rather one of the ascent. You can see that after just a few metres the path is at eye level with where you are standing. It climbs rapidly for a while then flattens to more sedate inclines and then climbs rapidly again. The temperature hovers somewhere around 30 degrees celcius up in the mountains in summer and the path, where not covered by shaley rocks, is covered in a fine bull dust ground to powder by the thousand of peregrinos who trudge along it each day.
But then you break into a clearing and get some stunning views across the Asturians. If you look carefully you can see 7 or 8 layers of mountains in the image below. First the foreground, then the close woods on the right descending in dark green. Beyond that the next layer in behind that on the left in a more olive green, the black hill in the middle, the lighter hill behind to the left, a small layer just peeking through behind that and then a few more as the summer haze brings more and more perspective and depth to the image. It is a rugged and spectacular place this Espanol.
The further climbed that day the more dramatic and rugged the peaks became. It is a gluttonous feast for the senses walking through this part of Spain, my little iPhone can't catch the full beauty of it. Notice the patchwork of fields on the mountains in the centre right of the image below. There is a matrix of woodland, farms, villages, roads, crops, that flows on forever up here.
And then all of a sudden you stumble across another stone plinth in the middle of nowhere which reminds you quickly that you are not alone in the wilderness but participating in something that has been done for over a thousand years in an area that has been occupied for many thousands. The monument below, unfortunately spoiled by graffiti, marks the official boundary between Castille y Leon and Galicia, the latter being the home territory of Santiago de Compostella, our pilgrimage draws ever closer to its conclusion with every step.
The climb continued throughout the afternoon. The path got steeper, the day got hotter and we plodded our way up the mountainside.
And that's when it happened.
I was viciously attacked by one of Spain's most deadly predators. It's a wonder I survived and indeed I am sure were it not for the rewards and grace I had earned by suffering so long and so hard on this pilgrimage I would have perished.
(Warning, the following contains graphic scenes that some readers may find distressing)
We were walking up a particularly inane path kicking up the bull dust when all of a sudden Monica screamed in terror, 'Aaaaaaaaaaagggggggggggghhhhhhhhhh, Shane!, Look out!' I threw myself into my well rehearsed commando roll and sprung to my feet adopting a perfect ninja pose, poised for anything. My walking stick raised above my head ready to strike.
'It's horrible', screamed my maiden fair, 'I can't bear to watch.', she managed to utter before falling into a swoon.
Unbeknown to myself I had been set upon by a massive blood sucking monster, it had used its cunning and its guile to allude my ninja senses and by some weird magic latch itself into my very life source. Indeed the foul beast was drinking my blood even as I stood ready to pounce.
When I became aware of the horror that was now upon me I went into action. With all my training coming to the fore I twisted and seemed to fly at the same time, not able to strike with my trusty weapon I sank my own teeth into the heart of the foul spawn that was upon me. With my last ounce of energy I smote the foul beast and it exploded in a gruesome and bloody mess, it own vitals mixed with my very lifesource seeping into the dust of that high and lonely place.
I raced over to my love and poured cool, clear water over her dry lips bringing her back from her dark place into the light, into the good and proper light, away from the terror that had haunted her dreams.
'I love you', she sighed.
'You're only human', I replied.
WHAT REALLY HAPPENED
We were walking along and Monica said, 'What's that on the back of your leg? A moth or something?'
Harry flicked it off and noticed that my leg was bleeding. Monica stood on the bug and all my blood squished out of it.
I screamed. Monica, Harry and Zoe laughed.
Blood sucking moths. Who knew. Apparently they only occur in Spain.
After the moth incident we walked up another bit of very steep hill the happen upon the beautiful vilalge of O'Cebreiro. A small stone village with uniquely thatched roofs on many of its buildings O'Cebreiro is an icon on the Camino for a number of reasons. The first is that it is a serious job to get here. The second is its location and the vistas you get from all around the village, the views are breathtaking. The third is its celtic history. There is a very strong celtic influence in the culture at O'Cebreiro that you would expect more in Ireland or Wales, Scotland maybe.
But very famously O'Cebreiro is the burial place of Don Elias Valina Sampedro. His bespectacled face sits atop a monument outside the little stone church inside which he is buried under a marble gravestone in the floor.
Don Elias Valina Sampedro is the modern father of the Camino. It was he, having been appointed the parish preist in the 50's or 60's rekindled enthusiasm in the Way of St James. It was he who scrounged yellow paint from the local council and started marking the Camino with thick, roughly painted, yellow arrows to show people the way, that now iconic and famous symbol. And I can tell you you look for them too. Many times in our own short time on this track the yellow arrows have helped us along our way when we were uncertain.
So we got to the top of the hill, found our little stone hotel, enjoyed that late afternoon sun in Spain once again with a cold drink and some local fare while soaking up that amazing part of the world.
And as I snuggled into my bed in the cooling mountain air at about 9.30pm I took this photo below. You can see the wooden shutter doors, the metal rail on the tiny stone balcony and the Asturian Mountains wonderfully lit by the last dying rays of the sun fading into the distance.
We are truly blessed to be able to be on such a remarkable journey. Images and words cannot explain just how special this whole experience is. There is a deep respect for pilgrims around these parts, there is a fellowship that exists between walkers, even those you only see fleetingly. There is a deeper sense of something special too, a knowledge that millions have walked these very paths for over a thousand years in search of something. Kingdoms were built on this road, it is a very special place. It is indeed the true heart of Spain, or if not its heart certainly its soul.
Buen Camino Peregrinos.
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