Each year, 100 000 people from all over the world complete part or all of the Camino de Santiago. To attain a Compostela (a certificate of pilgrimage) you must have walked at least the last 100km of the route. Most people start much earlier: some from their front doors in France or Germany as the medieval pilgrims would have done, some from St Jean Pied de Port in the south of France and others from different points in Spain. There are many routes but only one destination.
Although it seems a lot, the numbers flocking to Santiago now are only half of those who would have gone there every year in the Middle Ages. Santiago was up there with Jerusalem and Rome in the top three Christian pilgrim hot spots. Then as now, there were many different reasons for undertaking the journey. A big one was penance. A journey to Santiago could neutralise all your sins, no matter how heinous, ensuring that you would make it through the right gate at judgement day. Another is that pilgrimage was a great excuse to slip on your sandals and get out and see the world. The original backpackers. Priests, murderers, kings and slaves- anyone could be a pilgrim.
And why not walk to what may or may not be the tomb of a man so miraculous that the highlights of his career happened after he had lost his head. Saint James, or Santiago if you will, is a bit of an enigma, but a very popular one. An Apostle of Christ, he is alleged to have made his way to Spain, preached and converted the Galician locals to Christianity, but perhaps most importantly, started the trend (in the pilgrim fashion stakes at least) for long cloaks, tied with a cord, and big hats with scallop shells on the front. The die-hards may add a long walking stick with a gourd attached, and the true believers sport long fuzzy beards. Such is St James' legacy. Unfortunately, he decided to leave Spain and sailed back to the holy land where King Herod, ever the bad guy, executed him. Now this is where the story really becomes interesting.
James' followers, transported his body back to Spain in a stone boat without sails. They came ashore, not far from the present site of Santiago, discovering to their dismay that they had strayed into the kingdom of the evil pagan queen, Lupa. Ever optimistic, they went to her and explained about their headless leader, asking permission to borrow some oxen to transport his burial casket. She pretended to be sympathetic but gave them wild bulls instead hoping they would all be killed. The miraculous saintliness of their dead leader tamed the bulls into meek beasts of burden and when Lupa saw this transformation she herself converted to Christianity. Or so the story goes.
800 years later, a hermit, guided by the stars, rediscovered the tomb. He notified an archbishop who confirmed it was Saint James and an altar was laid on the spot. Some time after this, in the Spanish war against the Moors, Saint James was alleged to have come back to life and to have fought at the front of the battle. Thus his second, less politically correct image, Santiago the Moor slayer. Due to his contribution to the liberation of Spain, the locals donated land for the cathedral to be built around his 800 year old remains. And thus began the pilgrimages.
Eddy and I first heard about the Camino through a friend of mine, Stephanie Arnold, whose parents and brother had walked the Camino. We thought it sounded great, something so different from our everyday experiences, and as we would already be living in Europe our plans fell easily into place.
We started on the 27th September from St Jean Pied de Port in France. The summer crowds had gone, the sun was out and we had some mountains to climb...
(To be continued...)
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