View from the path.

8:30 A.M. I am having coffee and croissants. Feeling tired and

dispirited but must continue even though yesterday's haul broke

me. After a short bit on the highway, the trail veered off to a

pleasant road through picturesque towns just before it begins to

climb steeply toward O Cebreiro at 3879 feet, almost as high as

Cruz de Ferro. At the last town before the trail rose steeply,

leaving civilization behind, I stopped at a shop selling very

expensive fruit and bought an orange. I ate it outside the shop on

a wall by the road enjoying the other pilgrims passing by on their

way up the trail. After savoring the orange for as long as

possible I set out. This part of the journey was really quite

stunning. The trail was beautiful, just a cart track really,

bordered with a stone wall on one side over which enchanted vistas

came into view. After a couple of hours of climbing I was

exhausted and lay down on the top of the stone wall and had a nap

for half an hour. After continuing and reaching the higher portion

of the trail where it began to level off, I looked back at the

magical expanse of towns and mountains that I had just traveled

through.The view was spectacular.

Looking back.

Before long I came to the stone marking the entrance to Galicia, a

moment I had been anticipating for days since it signified the

beginning of the last leg of el camino. Santiago is located in the

region of Galicia, the northwestern-most region of Spain.

Galicia marker.

After trudging along further, I arrived at what I hoped was the town of

O Cebreiro. That fact, however, was not immediately clear to me

when I came upon a large walled in lawn where young people were

setting up tents and I could smell food cooking in a nearby

kitchen. Since it looked very much like a refugio to me, I entered

the building and asked. I was told that this was not the refugio

and to continue down the road a few meters. As I left the

compound, which turned out to be the back of the Church of Santa

Maria la Real, I was still baffled by the large number of young

people setting up tents. As I came to learn later, this was an

organized tour group from Britain traveling with two vans that

carried their tents and packs from one stop to the next. The

center of town was a few steps down the road around a turn, and

consisted of just a few buildings really. There is a museum or

Pallozas, a round dwelling with a straw roof. These are part of a

Pallozas.

prehistoric tradition and felt very dark and erie when I later

explored the interior. The center of town has two bars which are

also restaurants. One in the upper section and the other in the

lower near the road that passes through town. When I finally

reached the refugio it was closed and scheduled to open shortly.

It is a modern building on two levels and quite large, designed to

accommodate 80 pilgrims. The view from the grounds of the refugio

down into the valley below are breathtaking. Many pilgrims were

standing and sitting around passing the time waiting for the

refugio to open. When it finally did, there was an immediate line

crushing in upon the overwhelmed host who sat at a desk taking

names, stamping passports, and assigning sleeping areas. Before

long, 152 pilgrims had signed in. As I waited my turn I had a

chance to peek at the guest register and noted that 250 pilgrims

had been accommodated the night before. Every available space was

taken. People were sleeping in the halls and on the floor in the

kitchen in addition to the beds. I was assigned to sleep on the

floor in a large room with about 40 people. Now I was seriously

regretting having left my sleeping pad behind since a sleeping bag

by itself simply isn't enough padding on the hard floor. Still, I

was happy to have a spot on the floor especially after hearing the

stories of pilgrims who were forced to sleep in one of the

pallozas which had only hay on the ground. Not that that in itself

was so bad, but it turned out that the hay was infested with

something that made the next few days unpleasant for the

unfortunate pilgrims.

Refugio at O Cebreiro.

El Camino was getting more and more crowded with pilgrims with

each passing day as I got closer to my destination of Santiago de

Compostela. The reason for this was that groups of young people as

well as individuals with limited time were beginning their journey

here, a few days walk from Santiago. The effect was the

overcrowded refugios making it more and more difficult to find a

bed. As I walked down to the bar in the center of town I

Central Cebreiro.

encountered the Norwegian couple who were always smiling and happy

to talk. We chatted for awhile, discussing the difficulties and

perils of el camino. They told me that many people had hired a

porter to transport their gear up to O Cebreiro from the base of

the ascent. A very enterprising local was doing a great business

hauling pilgrims packs up in his old car for a few pts, thus

saving them the additional burden of both the pack and the steep

track. Later I heard several pilgrims grumbling and carrying on

about the porter who turned up very late. I sat in the bar having

a beer and relaxing before exploring the ancient church and the

curious round buildings.

Sunrise.

Up at the top of the hill was the church of Santa Maria la Real

which was quite lovely. Inside are kept the Chalice and Paten

commemorating the Miracle of Cebreiro, a 14th century legend which

tells of a peasant from a neighboring village who braved a

terrible snow storm to receive communion at Cebreiro. The

officiating monk was secretly very annoyed with the simple peasant

for taking the trouble to come through the storm, when suddenly,

the sacramental bread and wine turned literally into the flesh and

blood of Christ inside the paten and chalice. When I returned to

the refugio I ran into Roman, a pilgrim whom I had first met in

Burgos. He is making the pilgrimage on a bicycle and had already

been to Santiago and was returning to his native Switzerland. We

sat in the kitchen and he shared the noodles he was preparing with

me while he told me his story. He had spent the last two years as

a Swiss guard in Rome guarding the Vatican and was about to enter

college upon returning to Switzerland. Unfortunately, he was

feeling quite ill with some kind of stomach malady and spent much

of the time condemning the Benedictine monks at Samos for refusing

to put him up and take care of him. Roman was particularly miffed

since it is part of the Benedictine code of ethics to provide hospitality.

Tired author at sunrise.

After talking with Roman for a while, the strain of the day's

journey up the mountain was beginning to wear on me and I headed

for my small section of floor, spread out my sleeping bag and was

asleep in minutes. When I awoke at sunrise at least two things

were new: 1. the valleys below were filled with fog literally

illustrating the fact that we were high up in the clouds. Not only

was this beautiful in its own way, but it was interesting in that

it was such a dramatic transformation of the scene from the night

before. 2. I felt like I had been beaten with sticks. Apparently

sleeping on a hard floor did not agree with my skeleton and I had

bruised my hip, a condition that would prove to be increasingly

painful and troublesome over the next few days.

Roman.