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Fonfría → Sarria 27.5 km (17.1 mi) |
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¡Feliz horario de verano, todos!
Today, the clock jumped forward an hour and dropped me on my head! I jumped out of bed at 7:30 and didn’t get out the door until 8:30. If I was going to make it to the monastery of San Xulián of Samos in time for a tour, I had to get moving!
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The Wayside flowers slowly intensified as I headed downhill toward Triacastela. I met two French-Swiss ladies named Anne and Marie-Pierre, who explained that it wasn’t too uncommon in French for gals to have a male middle name and gents to have a female middle name. Even though these two aren’t officially French, I’m becoming a fan of French-speaking people. So far, all the ones I’ve met have been so friendly and kind of goofy! I’m sure there are plenty of disagreeable French people, but once I learn a few more phrases, I’ll have to pay the place a more in-depth visit!
Sadly, we had to split in Triacastela, they to San Xil and I to Samos. I checked my guide to see when the monastery’s last daily tour would be. If I wanted to make it before the four-hour siesta, I had to be there by 12:30. I’d planned to continue to Sarria, so I couldn’t afford the 4:00 tour! I had 10K left to Samos, so I asked for the time. It was 11:00. Uh oh!
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Somehow, I mustered up a rapid shuffle, which would have been a run if I hadn’t been sore and carrying a backpack! It was such a shame because this hustle took me through some of the most gorgeous riparian countryside! I had to absorb what I could and resist the urge to stop, set up the tripod, take a picture, take down the tripod, put the camera away, and resume! I made 5K by 11:45, darn good time, but fast enough? I hustled, sweated and panted the next 45 minutes until I reached the monastery overlook. Then tolled the 12:30 bell! Oh no! I was too late!
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Discouraged, I stopped hustling. There didn’t seem to be much of a point in it now, and I started to regret not having taken my time in all that lovely scenery behind me. I moseyed into town, around the monastery’s lovely gardens, where I learned the Galician word for trout (troita), and into the sixth miracle of the Camino: a sign on the door that read “One tour on Sunday at 12:45.” I’d made it! It was as though time itself had bent to let me enter the monastery! I hopped in line just as the jolly monk opened the huge, wooden door to let us inside!
Founded in the 6th century on the monastic models of Saint Fructuosus of Braga and the same Saint Isidore whose remains I met in León, the monastery waxed Benedictine in the following 400 years, just one of many dramatic shifts. It’s a hard-knock life for monks! First, the Moors persecuted them, then Napoleon’s troops, who kicked out the senior clergy and expelled all remaining monks in 1835! The whole monastery burnt to the ground twice, first in 1533 and again in 1951!
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Because of its history of destruction, the monastery’s extensive murals all appeared to be brand new. By brand new, I mean the faces of the depicted monks were very photorealistic! Also, I noticed something that I’d never seen before in any religious painting: a dark cherub! That, I thought, was revolutionary for Catholic art, but maybe this is just my first exposure!
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I think it’s self explanatory that the monastery at Samos embodies the spirit of persistence! No matter how many times it’s been sacked or burned, it’s still gotten right back up. I think it should be okay for a while now. How can I tell? The monastery is now home to the largest lesser horseshoe bat colony in Galicia! If these bats, with all their super senses, feel comfortable enough to set up a roost here, I’d bet a full nickel that this monastery will stay in good shape for a while! The monks have partnered with Project Hippos and Morcegos de Galicia, whose mission is to map and protect such bat colonies, to make sure these bats continue to feel safe!
The monks didn’t just look after bats, though. They also manufactured all sorts of pills and elixirs to keep the local people healthy! Apparently, they were real mixing whizzes! I have to wonder if monasteries still provide medicines for smaller villages. I mean, San Xulián is a living monastery, but this section was set aside as a museum!
As I’ve been walking, I’ve been contemplating my reasons for doing the pilgrimage with the ever-present question of “Am I just a tourist?” I think this tour group has answered that question: less than half of the group were actually paying attention to the guide, who had to shout to be heard over the din of their side conversations. Smaller groups were breaking off to wander down hallways and snap photos in front of the murals. One fellow even wandered behind a door that was marked “Off limits to the public!” On the one hand, yes, pictures are great for remembering a site, but on the other hand, if a picture has a face without a story, isn’t that picture kind of hollow?
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At the end of the tour, I flowed out with the tourists and back onto the Camino for the final 15K into Sarria. My “run” this morning had drained much of my energy, so I took my time as best I could. The Camino fluctuated between beautiful paths through the forest and unnamed villages, and up brutal, paved hills. The two Swiss gals from earlier had chosen their route for its loveliness, but despite my complaints, this actually was a very pretty stretch of Camino. Just look at the dandelions!
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By the time I got to Sarria, I was so completely exhausted that I had to bypass the lovely riverside Malecón and head up a sadistic flight of stairs to the Albergue Don Alvaro, only to find that the albergue was full! Full? How was that even a possibility? Sarria is the final starting point on the Camino! Here starts the last 100K to Santiago! Wow, I can’t believe it!
I backtracked to O Durmiñento, where a nice lady and her Yorkie, whose name was either Chistou (a type of Basque cheese) or Txistu (a Basque flute). I didn’t ask for the spelling; I was just glad to be here. She checked me into what became my own room for the night! It seems everyone had run to Don Alvaro and forgotten O Durmiñento! That was just fine by me!
So, apart from the Malecón, what did I miss? Apparently, Sarria is the antique capital of Spain, which would be just swell if I had the strength to carry an antique boudoir on my back for 100K. I think I’ll pass.
Instead, I went in search of food and found that Sarria has taken full advantage of the short-Camino crowd. Food had jumped up another notch in price and down a notch in quantity. When I finally decided on the place with the most reasonable menu and walked in, I was greeted by a silver-haired gorilla of a man chowing down on chicken. He snorted, wiped his nose with his hands, and handed me the menu, smiling to reveal only two tusks remaining in his whole mouth! At first, I was paralyzed, searching for a polite way to leave, but then I saw his wife peek out of the kitchen behind him. She was the cook! So, I had a decent dinner and retired to the albergue without going to Sunday night Mass. To be honest, I hadn’t felt moved by the two Masses I’d attended, so, for all intents and purposes, it was better for me to dream and reconnect with nature in the morning than to sit through a ceremony at which I didn’t belong.
Buen camino!
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Total Distance Walked: 648.2 km (396.5 mi) |
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