French Way
Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port to Santiago de Compostela
The ascent of the Pyrenees...
We started our second journey to Santiago de Compostela in April 2014. We flew from São Paulo to Lisbon. From Lisbon, we went by train to Hendaye, France. From there, we went by bus to Saint Jean Pied de Port, which is at the foot of the Pyrenees and is where the French Way begins. This path is the most famous, the busiest, and the most festive of the paths that lead to Santiago de Compostela. There is no shortage of restaurants, bars, coffee shops, inns, hostels and walkers. At that time, the road already had a lot of people. This caused us a certain strangeness. The Portuguese Way was an empty and short path, but dense. We have heard that nowadays, to book a place in Saint Jean Pied de Port or in the Collegiate Church in Roncesvalles, which is the first stop on the way, you have to do it well in advance.
Some legends explain the French Way. One of them is that the ancestral peoples, probably Celts, went on pilgrimage to Finisterre, or Fisterra to purify their souls. In Finisterre, which they believed to be the end of the earth, these pilgrims undressed and performed the ritual of burning clothes, replacing them and concluding the pilgrimage, returning to their homes lighter and happier. The name "Compostela" is a derivation of the Latin Campus Stellae, "field of the star", or Milky Way, which is said to run all this way.
This time, already more prepared, we decided to stay an extra day in Saint Jean Pied de Port to get to know the city. "Pilgrims" from all over the world roam its streets, eager to set off for the Pyrenees. Thus, we take our "credentials", a pilgrim's "passport", which are stamped wherever we go, proving the pilgrimage.
Despite the intense cold, the day has come to climb the Pyrenees. Just like everyone else, we wake up early. Our hostess served a good breakfast and even presented us with croissants to carry in our backpacks.
Before leaving for the hike, it was necessary to stop by the "Pilgrims' Workshop" to find out about the weather conditions on the mountain. If they are not in good condition, hikers should wait another day in the city, or cross the Pyrenees by road, sharing space with cars. Luckily, on this day, the weather was good.
It was 25 km up the mountain and only 4 km downhill. On the way, there is only a small hostel/restaurant, not far from Saint Jean Pied de Port. At the top of the mountain, there is only a small shelter for half a dozen people, in case of emergency. Therefore, it is necessary to bring enough water and food for this crossing. The weather was cold. We stopped for a coffee in this one place and there we met people from all over the planet. Some warm themselves with soup, coffee, or other hot drinks, and others suffice on beer and wine at that time of the morning. And so, we climb, climb, ascend, and go through all kinds of weather. From sun to wind, rain, and a little snow. Despite the brutality of that crossing, with endless climbing, fatigue, and lack of structure, the sensation and beauty of the Pyrenees can overcome all this difficulty.
In the final 4 km of descent, there are two paths. One of them is easier and the other more difficult, with a much steeper descent. And, of course, the second was our option. We pass through the Witches' Forest, the name we gave to this path.
We don't know if due to physical and psychological fatigue, it seemed that we were being followed, despite this being the only place we were alone. The feeling was that something was passing between the trees, but that we didn't see what it was. That's why we named it the Witches' Forest. In the absence of an explanation for this feeling, we think it is some good which helps us to overcome the difficulty of the path. So, it was a hard descent, but in an enchanted forest... Finally, we managed... we arrived in Roncesvalles, already in Spain... From there, not counting the almost 30 km walk, we still had 790 km left to Santiago de Compostela.
And now, where to sleep...
The hostel that is located in the Colegiata Santa María de Roncesvalles is very organized and clean. We had dinner and exchanged information with other hikers. The lights went out at ten in the evening and at six in the morning, we were awakened to the sound of "Wake up little Suzie", played and sung by a group of hosts. It was, to say the least, unusual and fun. Only the fans of the morning bad mood who probably didn't find it funny.
After a good breakfast, we went under the rain to Zubiri. The descent to the small town was a muddy slide, and only thanks to the support on the hiking pole we did not hit the ground with our butts. But we saw a lot of people fall into the mud, without any gravity. On the way, most people are willing to help, give information, and talk, and from the beginning, we start to make some friends. Some last until today. When we are available and open to new friendships, approximations flow.
From Zubiri we went to Pamplona, still raining and muddy. It was only when we arrived at our destination that the sun appeared. The welcome came from a resident, who approached us at the entrance to the city. He said he had a friend in Brazil and we talked for a while. We arrived early enough to enjoy a little bit of the city. Sometimes, it makes you want to stay a little longer in some cities, but the path calls us and we have to follow.
The next day, we went to Puente La Reina. At that time, we already knew Torsten, who was from Dresden in Germany, Olivier and a cousin from Martinique, two French friends (Jean Marie and Jean), and a few other people... Arriving in the city we found Oliver very worried because his slower cousin had not arrived yet. After meeting her and being more relieved, he said laughing a lot, that his cousin decided to return to Paris, where they lived. That's because she thought that on Sundays they would be resting, but she was annoyed to learn that on the walk she would not have a rest day. And, like everyone, Oliver would walk. J
From Ponte La Reina we follow a hard road to Estella. When we arrived exhausted in the city we did not find any accommodation. One gentleman suggested walking another 5 km further on, where there was a campsite with cabins. But what if it didn't take place? That's what we thought. Because it was a long holiday, Labor Day, everything was crowded. We had the idea of stopping at a small hotel, which was also already full, and asking for help. The owners, Carlos and Maria Cruz, were our salvation. They called the campsite, other hotels, hostels and inns, and nothing... Everything was packed. They only found a rural hotel that was 4 km before Estella. That is, we had to go back 4 km to stay. Discouraged from having to return, but with no other option, we returned. And, we accepted the couple's suggestion to reserve a place in the next 3 cities, Torres del Rio, Logroño, and Nájera. From there, we learned that on this French Way, it would be necessary to guarantee a place. Thus, we always had a guaranteed reservation for the next day.
And the "sold out" continues...
It was our seventh day of hiking when we arrived in Torres del Rio. The hotel booked was at maximum guest capacity, or above perhaps. There were so many people that the hot water ran out and we had to bathe in the cold water. The outside temperature was close to ten degrees. We paid dearly, in every way, to stay at this hotel. The guests were too happy, about the long holiday and the wine. Dinner was good and fun, but we were very tired and wanted to sleep, to move on the next day. But it was very difficult to fall asleep with all that partying.
Each one has its rhythm on the "path". We woke up very early and didn't give up our breakfast. As hostels and inns rarely offer this service, we always buy something the day before, for our breakfast. We heat the water in our tiny "boiler", bought on one of these trips around. We knew that one day it would be very useful to us. With that, it took us about an hour and a half to leave, after all the morning ritual. We walk about 9 or 10 km before a stop for a snack and, if we find an open bar, we have a "café con leche" always very delicious.
When we went out for a walk, some people had already left. As a result, the stops were always full. And the bathrooms... Ah, we often dismissed these. The "bush" was better... But, as this French Way was full, it was not necessary to worry about following the arrows that indicate the trails. There was always someone in front of us or behind us. When we made a "strategic pit stop", we needed to get away from the trail, taking some shortcuts. But one of us had to stay on the trail telling us where the original path was. It was so automatic to follow people that many followed him, in the shortcut of peeing. J
And the "turisgrinos"? Oh... these were those huge groups that go happily, chattering and singing along the way... A van dropped them off on the trail and they followed with a small backpack talking like a parrot... Further on, they got back into the van, before reaching the city.
Each one makes the way as they can, but sometimes these groups arrive in flocks at the inns and we are left without a place. Only hostels have a rule. The preference is for those who walk, then for the "bicigrinos", but some tourism companies reserve for the "turigrinos". And then, what happened to us in Estella happens.
It was still a long holiday when we arrived in Logroño, a large and festive city. Afterward, we went to Nájera, where a medieval festival was taking place. On the way, we had enough water and wine at Bodega Irache, which is a winery, where two taps, one for water and one for wine, are available to pass by.
Coming close to Nájera, we were exhausted. From afar we saw the city, but it seemed that it would never arrive again. We stopped to rest, drink water, and eat some raisins. We gathered the few forces that remained, the legs no longer obeyed our command. Even so, we reached a couple who were in front of us, in the same or worse situation than ours. Their fatigue was visible. Their uncontrolled gait caused us to laugh. We could barely walk either... It was pure exhaustion and the body no longer obeyed commands. And that's how we arrived in Nájera. Tired, dragging us, but happy to arrive...
To Mother Superior and the Galo of Santo Domingo de la Calzada...
After resting and enjoying the day of celebration in Nájera, we continued the next day to Santo Domingo de la Calzada. There, we were lucky enough to stay in an inn that belonged to the order of Cistercian sisters. The tip was from Jean Marie and Jean, the two Frenchmen we met. Jean Marie was very organized and, believe me, he had booked hotels and inns all the way. That's right, for the 31 days of walking.
We arrived at the inn with these Frenchmen, but we saw that it was very expensive. As two good "good people from Minas Gerais", we got a good discount and the Mother Superior put us in an apartment, which was reserved for visiting priests and sisters. An amazing place! Clean, nice, and with a beautiful view.
Early the next day, we left for Belorado, but not before passing by the church and asking for the blessings of Santo Domingo.
Legend has it that a father and his son, while on their way to Santiago, stopped in the city to rest. The son fell in love with the daughter of the owner of the hostel. The young woman, who had hatred in her heart, placed a silver fork next to the boy's belongings to incriminate him, unfairly. He was charged with robbery and was arrested. When the father went to pick up the body, he heard from an angel that Santo Domingo had spared his son's life. So the father went to the judge, who was having dinner and told him about what the angel had revealed. The incredulous judge said: "- I will release your son when this rooster and this hen crow again". The judge did not believe it until he saw that the rooster and hen, who were being served at dinner, covered themselves with pity, clucked, and crowed. The young man was released and, from then on, between April 25 and October 13, a white hen and a rooster were kept in a chicken coop inside the church. They are changed every 20 days. It is said that if the rooster crows when a request is made, this request will be accepted.
Well, knowing the legend we went to Santo Domingo to have a good walk and get to Santiago de Compostela. The church was closed by a railing but with a view of the altar. We ask with great faith. When we finished the rooster crowed loudly! The scare we got was great, but the joy was greater. And so, we confidently follow our path to Belorado. The next day we went to Agés and the next day we arrived in Burgos...
The Mesetas...
Burgos is a large city with many tourist attractions, restaurants, bars, laundries, and supermarkets. It was very good to see the city we already knew, but it is always sacrificing to get in and out of big cities for those who walk.
From there, we enter the Mesetas region, a hot and dry area, with a uniform landscape and few shadows. The straights seem endless and are surrounded by wheat and barley plantations. For this reason, some hikers prefer to take the bus to León and skip the almost 200 km of the way. We prefer to walk from Burgos to León. We found that those who do not do this stretch miss the chance to get to know another beautiful side of the path, although exhausting.
So, from Burgos we went to Hornilhos del Camiño. The village only had a Rural House, where we stayed, and a restaurant, which served dinner in shifts. While we waited for our turn, we sat at a bar, talking to an Irish couple and a Spaniard, who swore that Spain would be the champion of the World Cup that year. Just remembering, in the 2014 World Cup Spain was disqualified right from the start...
The next day, we will go to Castrojeriz. It was very hard! We spent a long time seeing the city in the background, which never arrived. When we finally arrived we had to cross it to find our inn. By some mistake, our reservation had been canceled. But, the owners rewarded us by putting us in a hotel, also theirs. What luck! The hostel was rubbish, but the hotel was a luxury!
After a comforting night, we went to Frómista. Again, the same flat, hot, and dusty landscape. We arrived on a Sunday. At the inn we paid the daily rate in a bar/restaurant, but when we entered the room. Damn! He looked like a “pardieiro”, or rather, a whorehouse. It was far from the city and on the edge of a train line. We asked for the money back. We lied saying that it was still too early to stop and that we would continue walking to the next city. The owner of the pardieiro did not like it but returned what we paid. We walked to the city center. We found a brand new, clean hotel with a delicious dinner at the restaurant next door. It was the best fresh cod we have ever had.
And, we continued our walk, always in the same hot, dusty, and exhausting landscape, but stopping in small villages, with their beauties and with friends that we made along the way. So it was in Carrion de Los Condes, Terradillos de Los Templarios, Bercianos del Real Camiño, and Masilla de las Mullas until we arrived in León.
León is a big, pleasant city, and, above all, we knew that from then on we would no longer have the path with the infinite, shady, and dusty straights of the last 8 days. We stayed in a hostel. It was Friday, and a group of boring teenagers arrived for a weekend of “quebradeira”. Clueless, dull, and drunk teenagers. But that would not be what would spoil our path. After a bad night's sleep, we continued and stopped in San Martin del Camiño, where we found peace, friends, and other people, in a delicious dinner washed down with a lot of wine.
On the way out to Astorga, we decided on the long way to avoid the busy roads. Arriving at the top of the mountain, which was completely flowery, we met David, a gringo who always left fruit and other goodies in exchange for donations to replenish the stock. And we continued walking and collecting good moments, such as in Rabanal del Camiño where we watched a prayer in Latin and the Gregorian chants, made by the monks, in an environment that transported us to a medieval time.
We left for Molina Seca very early and in very cold weather. The walk was fantastic, despite a lot of ups and downs. The mountain was in full bloom until we reached the "Iron Cross", one of the highlights of this path. It is in this place that hikers leave the stones they carry. Leaving them there on the "Stone Cross" means leaving everything negative in your life. We did not carry the stones, but we performed the ritual. We laid a stone at the foot of the "Holy Cross"... Then, we continue lightly, passing through Foncebadón, an intriguing place, before arriving at Molina Seca.
The house we stayed in Molina Seca was beautiful. It had a huge fireplace, right in the center of the room. The wine was available to guests. Thus, we warm the body and soul. While outside, the rain and cold alerted us to the difficult day of walking that lay ahead.
Towards O Cebreiro...
As planned, we left Molina Seca under a lot of cold, rain, and mud, which continued for the next two days. We passed through Villa Franca del Bierzo and the atmosphere was still rough. As a result, the walk to "O Cebreiro" was very hard. In addition to the rain and mud, the climbs were steep. This was one of the most difficult stages of this path, after the ascent of the Pyrenees. But the emotion, after walking 26 days and entering Galicia, overcame all the difficulties and fatigue.
Cebreiro is a Celtic village, with circular houses, made of stone and with a thatched roof, with a slope that withstands the strong winds of the mountains and the snow. It is located at an altitude of 1,300 meters. It is a place that holds legends, stories, and miracles. A magical place! The only problem is that, despite being a tourist site, accommodations are restricted. We made our reservation in a small hotel days before and were strongly advised to call in the middle of the afternoon of our arrival to confirm. Otherwise, the booking would be canceled. We called, as recommended, but we saw some hikers, who did not confirm, lose their reservations.
In the evening we went to a mass dedicated to pilgrims, warmed up, had a delicious Galician soup and wine, and went to rest. When we woke up, we were surprised by the falling snow. But we had to move forward anyway. It was a very hard day to walk. In addition to the snow, we had to climb even higher. We stopped at a bar, still close to O Cebreiro, to drink something warm, because we were freezing. Already warmed up, a Japanese girl just out of adolescence entered. She was all wet, with an inappropriate outfit for the occasion, and her hands frozen. He asked for help to take off his backpack. Her condition was very worrying. The towel and all her clothes were also wet, except for a blouse that we could find at the bottom of the backpack. She changed and stayed at the bar, recovering, before moving on. We move on.
We arrived in Triacastela very wet and icy. The path passed farms with floods of cattle poop mixed with rainwater. The smell was so strong that we didn't even know how the owner of the hostel allowed us to enter. We started to take off our sneakers and clothes at the door of the room, leaving everything outside. But the smell seems to haunt us. J We washed everything and thanks to a good heating, we were able to dry the clothes and hiking shoes. After everything was clean, fragrant, and dry, the next day, we went to Sarriá, still in the rain, but without the snow of the previous day.
Another anniversary on the Camino e Santiago is in sight...
From now on the path went a little frowning, between rain and little sun. It was May 24, Vera's birthday, and the twenty-eighth day of the hike when we arrived in Sarriá. If the French Way is full, from there it is even more crowded with hikers. To receive the "Compostelana", a certificate that pilgrims/hikers receive, they need to walk at least 100 km. And, Sarriá is exactly 100 km from Santiago de Compostela. So it is the place where some people start the path.
When we arrived at the hotel, which we had already booked for that important date, the owner took us to another hotel, far from the city center, which was also his. But, we had a special reason for wanting to stay in that downtown hotel. That was a day to celebrate the birthday. After a lot of stress, we won the argument. We stayed where we planned. We rested a little and went to see the city. We met some Italian friends, who were euphoric about a decisive game of Italy in the World Cup. We drank wine, had dinner... Anyway, the next day it was time to leave for another day of walking. This time, with many more walkers by our side and, among them, many of those talking "turisgrinos".
The next stop was Portomarim. It was a walk still with the very cold weather. The next day, we arrived at Palas de Rei. We were already very tired. Fatigue accumulated from the thirty days of walking. Distractedly, we went to take a shortcut and, unintentionally, entered the gate of a house. Suddenly, a huge dog came barking. We got a big fright and ran back. Strangely, when we passed the gate outside the dog stopped. Phew! We got smart, after all this adrenaline.
We continue to Arzua. Rain and cold were on the way and a lot of fatigue and discouragement. We arrived at a warm hotel and barely left outside. In the same way, on the next day, the thirty-second day, still tired from the days of walking, in the wind and rain, we met an Englishwoman, "Mina", who was walking all excited. The disposition with which she walked ended up infecting us and our spirits returned. After all, Santiago was very close.
After that, at one of the stops in an overcrowded bar, we met a Spaniard, Isidoro who, every time he saw us, said that a Brazilian woman was walking. But we never saw her. And this time, he introduced us to the Brazilian. The funniest thing was that still in the Pyrenees, on the first day of the hike, we talked to her son, Matheus. He said that his mother, who was already very old, had pain in her knees. That's why he would go ahead because she was very slow. When we found Rose, we learned that she was Matheus' "elderly" mother. We laughed a lot telling her about this conversation. Rose was much younger than us. After this meeting, the friendship was immediate. Quickly, we were already confiding in the way.
And finally, we arrive at Pedrouzo, the last city before Santiago. We rested, slept early and it was still night when we went out for a walk. The idea was to arrive before noon, time for the "Pilgrims' Mass". We passed through the forest still dark, fearless, and very anxious about our last day of walking. At Monte do Gozo we see Santiago de Compostela. It's no wonder that the place has this name.
On arrival in Santiago de Compostela, the feeling was one of joy, because we managed to arrive well. This time, the sadness of finishing the path was replaced by the certainty that we would return the following year, at the same time. We decided to do the Northern Way. So, we went, once again, to the "Pilgrim's Mass", as scheduled, and saw, once again, the Botafumeiro. We thank Santiago.
We walked around the city. We met some friends along the way. We celebrate our arrival. Celebrate. This French Way ended there, but we were quite sure that it did not end our journey. Oh, and this time we went to Finisterre.