On the road to Santiago
More than a millennium after the first pilgrims set out on foot across Europe to the holy city of Santiago de Compostela, the epic Way of St James is more popular than ever with modern-day hikers. Paul Lamarra finds out why
When keen walkers John Cawley and his friend Peter Benham finally walked into Santiago de Compostela in the summer of 2005 and stood in the immense cobbled plaza before the city’s granite cathedral, they turned to each other and hugged.
For 32 days, John and Peter had followed the ancient pilgrim route known as the Camino de Santiago, or the Way of St James, from Pamplona near the French border, across the hot, dusty plains of northern Spain, to Santiago – a distance of 460 miles – to visit the tomb of St James. Legend has it that the body of the first apostle to be martyred journeyed to Galicia in a boat with no sails and no crew, and the bones are now held in a cask in the cathedral’s crypt. John and Peter are just one wave in a tide of pilgrims that has ebbed and flowed over Europe to Santiago in the north-west of Spain for more than a millennium. It’s a walk that appeals to the young, old, fit, unfit, religious or otherwise.
Now a UNESCO World Heritage site, and declared Europe’s first Cultural Route by the Council of Europe in 1987, the Camino is the granddaddy of all long-distance walks and is enjoying a popularity it hasn’t known since the 12th century, when half a million pilgrims a year are thought to have made the journey. From a relatively paltry 2,500 recorded pilgrims in 1986, and fewer than 100 in 1970, the number has grown to more than 100,000 today and exceeds 180,000 in Holy Years, when the feast of St James on 25 July falls on a Sunday. (The next such Holy Year is in 2010.)
Of course, medieval pilgrims had to walk all the way from home to feed into a network of footpaths, hostelries and holy sites that led them through France to St-Jean-Pied-de-Port, before crossing the Pyrenees to Pamplona. Early British pilgrims would often first walk to Canterbury and then to Plymouth, where they would sail to A Coruňa on the northwest coast of Spain or to Paimpol in Brittany for the long walk south. Others made their way to Paris, Vezelay, Le Puy-en-Velay – shrines in their own right – to follow routes described in a 12th-century guide known as the Codex Calixtinus.
John, now 75 and a very active member of Eastleigh Ramblers in Hampshire, started in Le Puy-en-Velay in the French Auvergne and tackled the French section in three separate two-week trips, before his final big stage from Pamplona. “I was really just drawn to it for the walk,” says John. “But I found it to be more than just a walk – it was a very uplifting and humbling experience. The most profound moment was at Lascabanes, in southwest France, where the priest in the church next to the pilgrims’ gîte washed my feet, in keeping with a tradition that has continued for over 1,000 years. It was at that moment I felt the connection with all the pilgrims who had gone before me.”
Despite the many hostelries, churches, shrines and taverns that sprang up along the pilgrim routes, the medieval pilgrim could expect a thoroughly miserable time. Protected only by a long stick, a scallop shell – the pilgrim symbol supposed to ensure safe passage – and a vague fear that bad luck befell anyone who attacked a pilgrim, he was vulnerable to attack by bandits and wild animals. Combined with the heat of the Spanish Meseta, the cold arduous climbs over the Pyrenees and the risk of thirst on the high arid causses of southern France, there was enough discomfort involved in the Camino to atone for all his sins and minimise the inevitable spell in purgatory. Now, with only blisters and sore knees to worry about, is it possible for a seasoned rambler such as John Cawley to consider himself a pilgrim in the truest sense?
Marion Marples, secretary of the Confraternity of St James – an organisation that offers advice to prospective pilgrims – believes suffering need not play a part in a pilgrimage. “You do have to accept that a pilgrimage is not just fun, fun, fun, but it needn’t be uncomfortable,” she says. “Stripped of physical and mental baggage and the simplicity of the daily routine of rising, eating, walking, washing, eating, sleeping can be liberating. It’s the individual’s willingness to embrace this lifestyle that sets them apart as a pilgrim – it leaves room to think.”
Official pilgrims carry a credencial or pilgrim passport that must be stamped each day for the pilgrim to claim their compostela or pilgrim’s certificate on arrival in Santiago. The passport also allows the pilgrim to stay in the many pilgrim hostels along the way. They are issued to members of the confraternity or to pilgrims applying at the town hall, police station or a refugio at the start of the walk. When issued with a passport, it is assumed that the pilgrim has a spiritual quest and has an open mind to what they may find en route. “The majority of walkers are not religious, but you will be offered hospitality and kindness by people on the assumption that you are pursuing some higher purpose,” says Marion. “It’s important not to abuse this privilege and remember that you are more than a tourist. As a tourist we expect, but as a pilgrim we are grateful.”
Inevitably, fears are growing that some of the routes are becoming too popular, especially the Camino Francés, which runs from the Pyrenees to Santiago via Burgos and Leon. In an effort to relieve congestion, the Confraternity have opened a new refugio on the less well-known Ruta del Norte, which follows the coast rather than the inland route. The route from Le Puy is well signposted as it coincides with footpath GR65, but there are signs that the other routes from Vezelay and Paris are developing rapidly.
It’s easy to see why the Camino has become so popular. All along the route there are evocative reminders of its medieval golden age, with Europe’s most imposing gothic architecture and the finest examples of religious art and stained glass on display in the many churches and cathedrals. Then there’s the elation of glimpsing Santiago’s spires for the first time and walking the city’s narrow arcaded streets at its medieval core. For John Cawley, it was all that and the friendship of his fellow pilgrims that made the journey worthwhile. “Each night I sat down to dinner with up to 30 strangers who shared a common interest,” says John. “In fact, one night I counted 37 nationalities at one table.”
And John’s one piece of advice for prospective pilgrims? “Travel light,” he says.
