THE WAY TO SANTIAGO

Three years ago an old friend of mine took two months off work, to walk all the way from Le Puy in central France to Santiago in North West Spain. He came back two stone lighter with lots of photos and traveller’s tales. Another friend at work was also taking a week off each year to do a stage of the walk with friends and after Penny’s death she advised me to take some time out: this was the obvious way to spend it.  Both of them gave me advice about the undertaking, and even walking practice. 

What is the Way to Santiago? It’s a journey to the legendary site of the burial place of St James, which has been taken by pilgrims for about a thousand years.  It was one of three great pilgrimages in the Middle Ages (the others being Rome and Bethlehem).  Quite what St James was doing in Spain, or why the incredible myth grew up about the return of his martyred body, in a stone boat, all the way from Palestine, is probably irrelevant. The myth was used by the Spanish to encourage resistance to the Moors who had invaded Spain centuries earlier, and a vision of St James at a crucial battle led to Spanish victory, so the saint is portrayed slaying Muslims – not very politically correct these days, perhaps.

The pilgrimage business went into decline, and it’s only in the last few decades that it has revived, but now lots of people (my friends included) do it as a long walk, rather than to achieve salvation, enlightenment, or as a penance. But many still do use it for spiritual purposes.  I was lent a profoundly moving book by Nicholas Luard who did the walk over several years while his daughter was dying (and then died) from AIDS; clearly he found consolation, or composure on the Way. I set off with more modest intentions, but found the experience a deeply moving one; I too have grief to come to terms with and found that it helped.

There were many routes through Europe towards Santiago, which come together at the crossings of the Pyrenees, so a lot of pilgrims now start at St Jean Pied de Port, not far from Biarritz in the French Basque country.  I started further west, to do the last stages of the Spanish section in April when it would be cooler, and took a train to Burgos.  I will do the first stretch from Le Puy in late May and June, and fill in the middle bit some other year.  I reckoned I could get from Burgos to Santiago in just over three weeks, according to the French guide book I’d bought last summer (in St Jean Pied de Port).

What I hadn’t reckoned on was what it would be like walking day after day after day:325 in 22 days . Also, I was not aware just what the Way would be like – surfaces, gradients and so on. Some people walk; some cycle; some take an animal with them, a dog, or (more usefully) a donkey to carry their pack. I was my own donkey, with 10 kg on my back. The most useful advice I had was to buy proper alpine walking sticks. These helped me up hills, took some of the pressure off the steep descents and helped me keep a rhythm as I walked the level stretches.  The Way is often narrow, stony, uneven and very steep. This could become a sermon, considering Christ’s words about the Way, and I began to suspect that the route was chosen to be tough, to concentrate the pilgrim’s mind. After a week I’d got over the blisters, but after three weeks I realised I’d taken more physical strain than for many years.

I wrote an article for the Parish Paper called A Musical Pilgrimage, noting how, going to lots of concerts, you meet people by the way, and their companionship.  The Way to Santiago was just like that.  People greet you with “buon camino”, or just “ola!”, and you greet them.  It’s possible to have a brief conversation, but not easy, as you, or they, may be out of breath, and walking at a different pace; the conversations come at the end of the day, over a meal. I met folk from all over Europe and from the other side of the world, and even a few from Britain.  Often the conversation had to be in English as the only common language, but I could speak enough French and German to strike up good friendships.  There were two French chaps who had a Guide Michelin, and were seeking out the best restaurants. Meeting and greeting is lovely; friendship as you go: it’s odd to return to being stand-offish and English.

The approach to Santiago is unimpressive, till you get to the Cathedral dominating its huge square, where pilgrims attend Mass at midday. This was very spectacular: twelve priests co-celebrating, and ending with six monks bringing in a colossal censer, hauling it up on a strong rope, and swinging it in a huge arc right across both transepts, while a hymn was sung and the organ played triumphantly.  We all applauded. Then off everyone went on their way home. But I had the impression we were not saying goodbye: we had met and re-met so many times along the Way, that it had become part of our lives, which continues still.  And, for me, it will continue, when I go to Le Puy, to the beginning and walk in France.

William Marsterson, May 2007