Give me my scallop shell of quiet
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of joy, immortal diet
My bottle of salvation
My gown of glory, hope’s true gage
And thus I’ll take my pilgrimage.
– Sir Walter Raleigh (1604)
We look back at our travelling days now with a nostalgia that stings, but for me, it is memories of walking the caminos in quiet corners of Spain and France that evoke the most longing. Perhaps it was because I learned that through the pastoral rhythm of a walking pilgrimage, we find a deeper connection to the earth, one that nurtures and renews one’s perspective on the world. A place of mind that steadies when the ground beneath your feet is shifting.
That steadying, quieting force, for me, was the popular pilgrimage to the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Galicia, Spain, purportedly the site where the bones of the Apostle, Saint James (Santiago), were placed in the field of stars (Compostela). An important destination for Christian pilgrims during the Middle Ages (paying homage to the relics of this saint upped one’s credentials as a believer and won penitence for one’s sins), a network of routes developed throughout Western Europe to ensure all could undertake this act of devotion. Today, each of these routes is steadily being revived and welcoming more and more pilgrims and seekers each year.
I have been fortunate enough to walk three of the pilgrim routes to Santiago: the 800km Camino Frances; the 1000km Camino Mozarabe; and the 750km Chemin du Puy. All have their singular beauty and reward and, with a sturdy pair of broken-in boots, backpack of essentials, and willingness to leave ‘normal’ for a while, offer all of us at any age unique portals into the timelessness and restorative power of a walking pilgrimage.
CAMINO FRANCES
The Camino Frances (also known as the Camino de Santiago) takes the pilgrim over the Pyrenees into Spain, through rolling Basque country into the sweeping meseta plains and atop the mountains of Galicia to reach Santiago. Overwhelmingly the most patronized of the caminos, one’s baptism into camino life begins in the lively little village of St. Jean Pied de Port in the French Pyrenees. Agreeing to join the venerable fraternity of Santiago pilgrims brings with it a script of rites and rituals: credentials (a pilgrim passport that entitles you to inexpensive lodging along the way); compostelas (your certificate of completion at the end); scallop shells (to align yourself with Apostle James who wore one as a sign that he was a fisher of men); yellow arrows and ancient stone pillars (which will be your route wayfinders); village fountains en route; a codex of songs and chants; and the proper salutation to other pilgrims. Integral to your life as a pilgrim, as well, will be the camaraderie of other pelegrinos [pilgrims] that cluster around you, each as excited as you about the challenges that lie ahead.
The first day crossing The Pyrenees is perhaps the pilgrim’s most memorable. It is a tough but glorious walk, pungent with history. At the summit, you pass a memorial to Charlemagne’s fallen men in the Battle of Roncevaux Pass in 778 and, hours later, at your night’s lodging, you are greeted by hospitaleros, a legacy of the medieval Knights of Hospitaller.
Having once administered to the Crusader’s needs, today’s hospitaleros supply whatever comfort and encouragement the pilgrim needs to sustain them on their sacred journey. Chivalry, generously dispensed in the form of Band-Aids, moleskins, water, showers and clean beds lives on, on the camino.
Connecting with quiet traditions a thousand years deep, one wide-eyed step at a time on the camino, is an enormously humbling experience. Like pilgrims before us, possessions and needs are distilled to their most essential. Happiness becomes a clean pair of socks, a frothy café con leche, a farmer’s wave, a burst of blossoms, a fellow pilgrim’s smile, a pillow, the sky above you, the road beneath your feet.
CAMINO MOZARABE
Completing the Camino Frances, collecting my compestela, and walking triumphantly another 200 km to the ends of the earth – Cape Finisterre – in sheets of sideways rain sealed my fate as a perennial perambulator (aka “camino junkie”). Choosing to walk the Camino Mozarabe next (named after the Christian Arabs who used it) was likely as much to do with the fact it was located in southern, sunnier Spain as it did with being a quieter, less trafficked route.
Beginning deep in Andalusia, the Camino Mozarabe travels westward, linking with the Via de La Plata in Seville that brings pilgrims north to Santiago. I began in Granada, the last stronghold of the Muslim leaders and today proud centre of Andalusian culture. Added to the thrill of seeing Alhambra from my pension windows was the serendipity of being there during its annual flamenco festival in early May, where every street vibrated with the rhythm and colours of flamenco music and dance.
The Camino Mozarabe, as promised, was as lean as the dry Andalusian plains – few pilgrims, few services – and a multitude of moments to listen, linger and lose oneself in the quiet reverie of walking through once feudal lands. Long spells in the countryside were broken by brief immersions in such storied cities as Granada, Cordoba and Merida, where the palimpsest of cultures woven into Andalusian life and architecture strikes you at every turn. Once past Salamanca, home of one of the oldest universities in Europe, the hills of Galicia emerge, and walks that “skim the edge of heaven” eventually merge with those moving westward on the Camino Frances.
CHEMIN DU PUY
The Chemin du Puy (also known as the Via Podiensis) is one of several routes through Western Europe that guide pilgrims to the Spanish border, and onwards to Santiago. Named after its point of departure – Le Puy-en-Velay, a small city situated about 100kms southwest of Lyon – the route was “christened” in 950 by Bishop Godescale, who was one of the first non-Hispanic pilgrims to go to Compostela.
The path, which doubles as the GR65 (a grande Randonnée trail), crosses the Massif Central and the extraordinarily beautiful regions of Allier, L’Aubrac, the Lot valley, the Tarn and Garonne Rivers, Gers, and Bearn before meeting two other pilgrim routes at the foot of the Pyrenees. To fulfil its secondary mandate as a recreational trail, the chemin takes you through the traditional byways of farming France, scrupulously bypassing large cities, suburbs, highways and traffic.
Mountaintops and hedgerows of walnut trees and beech forests at the start of the Chemin du Puy give way to rolling lands of plenty. When not buried in cornfields, you are between vineyards and cow pastures, lentil fields and fallow plots, vegetable patches and fields of freshly harvested hay.
It is the not-Paris of France – the silent, unchanging, unheralded side of the country. Here be farmers’ fields that glisten with goodness, carts with clusters of grapes left for the pilgrim, astonishingly fairy-tale-like villages, 11th century bridges and châteaus, glimpses into life on a barge along the famous Canal du Midi, and laughter shared with pilgrim friends over communal meals prepared in the gites. As can be expected, food enjoys a special status on a pilgrim route through France; best to come with an appetite!
As I reflect on my camino experiences, the image that lingers is a stop sign en route that was turned into a walker’s mantra: “Don’t stop walking.” Deep wisdom lay in those words. It echoed the last thing the Buddha said to his followers: “Walk on.” The Christian theologian, St. Augustine, likewise maintained that things were solved by walking – “solvitur ambulando,” and German philosopher Friedrich Neitzsche declared that “all truly great thoughts are conceived while walking.” Virginia Woolf revelled in the “space to spread my mind out in” on her walks through England’s downs, and William Woodsworth’s poetic muse was a lifetime of tramping up mountains, through forests and public roads (reputedly 15kms a day). We are in good company when we commit to a camino!
The less romantic sides of “tramping” may be escaping mention but, yes, there will be heat, rain, bugs, blisters, another hill to climb, another rocky path to navigate, and another snorer in a cramped refugio to bear. But with the right preparation, resilience and mindfulness, you will find that the “ponder-friendly” pace of a walking pilgrimage is a beautiful way to fill your scallop shell of quiet.
IF YOU GO:
You can reach departure points for each camino to Santiago de Compostela via flights from Canada to a major European city (such as Paris, Madrid and Lyon), and regional trains or buses. For information regarding route, accommodation, and “what to expect,” an excellent resource is John Brierley’s A Pilgrim’s Guide to the Camino de Santiago, 2019.
On the Camino Frances and Chemin du Puy, many companies now assist with luggage transfer, so pilgrims can walk with daypacks only, if they wish (caminoways.com). Guided tours on sections of Camino Frances are also available (tourradar.com).
It is important to note that long-distance walking requires preparatory training well in advance of departure. Consult with veteran pilgrims or personal trainers about the best training regime to follow to build up your walking and weight-bearing strength and endurance.
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