Day 36: Santiago de Compostela

05 May 2022

Arzúa to Santiago de Compostela (km 739 to km 780)

Today we walked into Santiago de Compostela.

It had been one of our longest days on the trail and the combination of distance, topography, warm weather, emotion and accumulated mental and physical exhaustion almost broke us.

But, late in the afternoon we found ourselves laying down on the cobblestones of The Obradoiro Square, our heads propped on backpacks, gazing at the Cathedral and listening to the exquisite torturous sounds of the Gaelic piper at the arrival gate.

We had made it.

It had been a big day, and it wasn’t even over yet.

We had arisen early in anticipation of this special day, the last on the trail. Packing quickly, it occurred to us that some albergue-life items, such as travel towels and sleeping bags, would not be needed for awhile and could be relegated to the bottom of our packs. Tonight it would be fresh cotton sheets and fluffy hotel towels.

We had a big day ahead – to complete the plan hatched yesterday to arrive in Santiago sooner by walking three stages in just two days. Today we were tackling the lion’s share – over 40km .

Our Aussie trail companions Grant and son James (James.L) tagged their main packs and put them behind the unattended Reception desk, to be picked up later by Jacotrans and delivered to their booked hotel in Santiago. They slung their lightweight P-Packs over their shoulders and stepped out.

We followed with our full packs on our backs. Today we would hopefully complete the objective we had set ourselves on day one – to walk every stage of the Camino Francés with our packs. It would be a challenge. We had been averaging over 30km each day for the past week, and today would be one of the longer days. Hopefully our reserve tanks had enough in them.

The guidebook advised that the day’s trail profile would be similar to yesterday’s, a series of ups and downs as we crossed several shallow valleys and watercourses. The biggest climb of the day was also the last, up the hill overlooking Santiago. Once again the sun would be shining on our endeavours, with temperatures in the high 20’sC.

We departed earlier than our normal 8am, motivated by the task ahead and thoughts of arriving into Santiago early enough to obtain our Compostela, get settled, and celebrate with friends. The route out of Arzúa continued along the scenic quiet lane we had arrived on, with its colourful hanging flower pots and old buildings. A pretty café was open just as the Camino turned down the hill to leave town, its lights glowing in an-otherwise silent streetscape and it’s sign promising coffee and breakfast.

We stepped in to fuel-up, the boys resisting the urge to play the Foosball table in the middle of the room as we ordered coffee, fresh orange juice and croissants. We had noticed prices starting to increase as we got closer to Santiago, but even so, the bill came to a surprising amount.

It transpired that our latest attempt at murdering the Spanish language, or ‘Spanglish’, had resulted in our order for croissants with jam sounding like jamón (ham). The error identified, our host paused and gave us a look that initially suggested he was perhaps regretting opening early today, transitioning through the consolation of the excellent profit he was making on the coffee, and finally the acknowledgement that we had invoked one of the unspoken rules of the Camino – that efforts to communicate in Spanish, no matter how bad, should be encouraged.

He graciously reconfigured our orders, by removing the ham, resulting in a unique croissant con jam-on-jamon flavour experience. I reflected that, on balance, our Spanish was still progressing in the right direction on this journey. Three years ago Leo and I had unwittingly ordered a breakfast (that also by necessity became lunch) comprising double serves of everything.

Leaving Arzúa, the trail descended into the first valley of the day, the early shards of sunlight piercing between the hills and through the trees into the mist that sat low to the ground and pooled in depressions in the fields. It felt like it was going to be a superb day. The trail surface was wide and smooth – soft earth that had been trampled flat and smooth by thousands of feet and our movement was quiet and seemingly effortless.

From time to time the pathway sank into the ground, ancient stone walls two or three metres high in places retaining the earth on each side. Little shrines of pebbles and tokens left by pilgrims appeared in niches and crevices. Turismo de Galicia had definitely been grooming the trail recently.

There were only a few other pilgrims about and it felt good to have that sense of progress that comes from getting some kilometres under the belt before the sun has fully risen and the real day ‘officially’ starts.

Second breakfasts of ‘Tostada’ of the (zero alcohol) beer rather than bread variety were consumed in the famous Casa Tía Dolores bier garten, decorated with thousands of empty beer bottles, each one signed by the pilgrim that consumed it. We were joined by the cafe’s large ‘scruffy’ dog who was our best friend, until we tried to leave, at which point growling and bared teeth ensued. We considered leaving Leo, to whom the dog had taken a particular fancy, but ultimately we left no one behind by employing Sam Neill’s trick of moving very slowly. Shades of Lassie meets Jurassic Park.

By late morning we had reached the normal end-of-stage destination of Pedrouzo – our mid-point for the day, clearly our pace had been good. Up to this time we had been sharing the trail with a handful of other pilgrims, it seemed our early departure had put us ahead of the day’s main crowd. As the others turned off the trail and walked into Pedrouzo, we suddenly found ourselves alone. It was amazing.

As we progressed into the second ‘stage’ of the day, we once again felt the sense of freedom that comes from living beyond the journey itinerary of the popular guidebooks. It almost seemed strange in retrospect that we had simply accepted the suggested daily travel distances as a rule and breaking these self-imposed limits each time was liberating. Sometimes it was enjoyable just to see how far your legs and mind would carry you, rather than simply stopping at the next designated destination. It was a late lesson, but one that I knew I would ponder after the journey.

The sun rose, and the day was quickly becoming hot, especially when walking outside the shelter of trees. Walking through a particularly scenic tunnel of tall trees, the trail took an abrupt turn to the right. Almost on que a mechanical roar could be heard, signalling we had arrived at the edge of Santiago’s airport.

On a map it appears that the Camino originally travelled in a straight line towards the city, but at some point, the airport runway had been lengthened to handle jets, and the trail now detoured around the perimeter before rejoining its original route.

At the point of detour we found a trinket and souvenir seller packing up his tables, a reminder that the rush hour for pilgrims travelling from Pedrouzo into Santiago that day had also passed. We remembered the owner from our last journey, having bought a couple of leather bound notebooks for Leo and our German trail-friend Raphaela. We got a nice stamp in our credentiales and emptied our pockets of coins into the donativo tray while we had a good chat. Receiving some Camino wrist ribbons in return, it was nice to be able to take the time to talk and savour our last few hours of trail life. We had plenty of time to complete the last few kilometres of the journey.

But things were about to change.

Leo had started to get growing stomach pains in the last few kilometres, and he was now getting quite uncomfortable and needing to stop.

I did a quick mental assessment of possible causes.

It was certainly true that whilst we had snacked at a couple of stops, we had not eaten any substantial food today and maybe we were down on energy. The distractions of the big day, our rapid progress, and the excitement of the occasion, had caused us to bypass cafes that under normal circumstances would have been refueling points. Similarly, Leo was not a big water drinker at the best of times and I had not seen much drinking going on today even though the temperature had crept up quite a bit.

It did seem that the accumulative fatigue or dehydration of the past few big days may also be starting to make itself felt for both of us.

As we followed the airport perimeter fence, 10kms from our destination, Leo’s discomfort increased and our energy levels and pace began to drop.

We stopped at the next cafe for food and water with electrolytes, but it was apparent that, whatever the cause, our bodies were not going to let us off that lightly and were demanding that we take a more substantial stop. It would later become apparent that Leo had an upset stomach that would take several days to overcome.

As we were fading, James.L, who had been struggling with the after-affects of a bad stomach bug for literally weeks, had finally hit his straps on this last day, and was walking with strength and enthusiasm. It was great to see.

Rather than slow our friends, or push ourselves beyond our limits and risk having to stop altogether, we suggested meeting up with Grant and James.L at the end, and wished them a special afternoon arriving into Santiago de Compostela. On balance, it would likely also be a more memorable way for the two of them to complete their Father-Son journey, just the two of them together.

During the hours that followed Leo and I slowly made our way forward, stopping to sit or lay down under trees, rehydrate and rest. Leo in particular was suffering, his stomach letting him know it was not enjoying the experience at all.

As for every challenging day on the trail, we kept inching our way toward Santiago as best we could, tackling the challenge one step at a time, and not letting the regular trail distance markers dishearten us with their information of the distance we still had in front of us. We had plenty of time, there was no need to rush.

The weather and the terrain conspired to really make sure this was a challenge we would remember. Ahead of us was the biggest climb of the day, up the back of Monte de Gozo. From the top we would get our first glimpse of our final destination in the distance, the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostella.

It was not a big climb by the standards of the past month, but today it seemed the toughest of them all. Each time the undulating road up the mountain we were travelling tilted upwards, it hurt. For Leo especially.

In the manner of Spanish hot weather, as the hottest part of the afternoon crept closer, the light breeze that kept things bearable grew weaker and weaker. We knew that we must get to the summit before it stopped, or indeed we would have to consider stopping as well.

There were a few Plan B options, such as staying overnight at one of the small hostels we were passing, or catching a taxi to our hotel and returning the next day to finish, but none Leo wanted to consider just yet. We both wanted to finish this last day of our journey in a way that we felt befitted and represented all that had gone before, and Leo was determined that this would be so.

Just as we were particularly struggling, we hit an especially steep section of the trail. I hitched our packs for the climb and, as was our normal practice, we each adopted our own pace to tackle the challenge. Leo slowly drew ahead and disappeared around a bend. A little while later my phone rang, it was my wife Jennie calling from mission control in Australia, checking in to see we were OK. She had just received a call from Leo who had told her he was lying down on the side of the road, feeling unwell, and Dad was not in sight.

As I kept walking and talking Leo came into view and I was able to assure her that we were safe, just having a particularly difficult Camino moment. We would call her when we got in, although it may be a little while yet.

Sometimes, when things get really tough, a son just needs to talk to his Mum.

It is a curious thing that this section of the Camino, surely one of the busiest of the entire route, had very few places to get food or a drink. From 2019 we remembered several marquees set up on an industrial site halfway up the climb, selling food, drinks and souvenirs to passing pilgrims. We hoped they were still there, and that they were open. T

his journey we had sadly seen many places we had visited before now closed down or gone, not able to survive the absence of pilgrims during the pandemic. The daily pilgrim rush hour had also passed and places were now packing up.

The factory drew into sight, and then the souvenir tent beyond, its sides rolled down and clearly closed. Our hearts momentarily slumped, but then, as we rounded the corner we saw the café tent, and it was open!

After several rest stops sitting on the ground and folding sore legs, it was wonderful to slump into director’s chairs at a table under a shady tree. We consumed a Camino tonic – an ice cream and a Coke, and tried to get some food into our stomachs. As the energy and refreshment made itself felt, we savoured the last of the dying breeze and the break from the sun’s heat radiating from the unshaded bitumen road we were walking on.

A loud and cheerful group of young Spanish hikers arrived. As they saw us their chatter dialed down, their expressions a mix of respect and concern. Clearly our plight and the particular challenge we were engaged in to reach Santiago were evident and understood. Their small nods of support and encouragement boosted our determination immensely.

We sensed we were getting near the top, and after a long while, we pulled ourselves up against the wishes of our cramping legs, clipped our parts together, swayed a bit, and pressed on.

After what seemed an eternity of having the road climbing ever upwards before us, there was suddenly blue sky ahead and we felt the ground flatten out under our feet as we rolled over the crest of the mountain and the grassed space that marks the summit revealed itself. There, below us in a bowl created by a ring of hills, was Santiago de Compostella, and just legible through the blue haze, were the spires of it’s Cathedral.

Leo gazed ahead, ‘We can make it from here”

It had taken us more than three hours to walk just six kilometres, a distance that we had often covered in less than an hour.

We paused, and embraced in a long hug. Last time there had been many tears, 12YO Leo overcome with the realisation that he had indeed done what he thought to be impossible. It would be an important moment for him, a turning point in how he viewed and approached the significant challenges he had in his life at that time. Now, we were exhausted, but our exchanged glances confirmed that we both remembered the significance of this place, and also that today we had shared something very special that would remain with us for a long time.

We gazed to our left and could just make out the famous tall statues of the two ‘joyous’ pilgrims in the distance. We had fond memories of our visit to them on our last journey, making wonderful new friends and adding to our Camino Family in their midst, just a few kilometres from our journey’s end. Unfortunately, it was a significant detour off the trail and this time was simply beyond us. Our reunion with the statues would have to wait until another day.

Not all things were as we remembered. The large monument on the apex of the mountain to commemorate the pilgrimage that Pope John Paul II made here, had been removed, the victim of corrosion. I had read it had been removed for repair, later I would learn it would not be returning, its state beyond salvation. In the World rankings of beautiful monuments, it had probably not featured highly. Maybe a beautiful replacement was being planned…..

The trail descended the mountain, and we simply rolled down the hill on it, like a car put taken out of gear and drawn by gravity alone.

We passed the sprawling Ciudad de Vacaciones Monte do Gozo complex, big enough to accommodate 500 pilgrims. For those undertaking a religious pilgrimage, Monte de Gozo (Hill of Joy) has special significance. The place where medieval pilgrims first glimpsed their destination (and exclaimed in joy) and also where they cleansed themselves before entering the holy city. Some now stay here and reflect on the cusp of their arrival.

We had walked through the complex previously, everything locked up, beds and mattresses, visible through dirty windows, stacked inside concrete box buildings in poor condition. It had resembled a Soviet summer camp rather than a place of reflection.

Now, it had clearly been renovated, possibly in anticipation of the Holy Year crowds. The buildings were repaired and painted, gardens and landscaping fresh and tidy, a few pilgrims visible at a café table outside. A new lease of life. Not unlike the one we were now experiencing.

Near the base of the hill we stepped onto a new graceful winding concrete ramp that replaced the notorious gravel steps of death, and delivered us in style and comfort to the bridge at the city’s entrance.

Pilgrims often remark on how long it seems to take to walk into the heart of Santiago, the cathedral spires seemingly so near, but in reality still kilometres away. Today we had to agree. It was baking hot, and we were exhausted. In that curious way of The Camino, that makes no sense unless you experience it firsthand, it did not occur to us to stop at one of the many cafés we passed – we just had to get there.

Our phones started to notify us of messages – many of our Camino Family knew we were approaching Santiago today, and were checking in from all over the place. Jon from UK, who we had last seen over 700km ago, was in the Old Town, and was waiting. I owed him a beer. We would be there.

We had heard that this year it was necessary to pre-register online to gain access to the Oficinia del Peregrino, the Compostela office – a new arrangement forced by the COVID pandemic. We got the details from Jon and Leo entered our information via his phone as we walked.

It was a blur of one foot in front of the other, but eventually we found ourselves waiting at the pedestrian crossing into the Old City. It was time to just bask in the joy of the last small distance, nothing would stop us now. We crossed and weaved our way towards the Cathedral. The spires were hidden by the tall medieval buildings, and the streets were a rabbit warren, going everywhere, but we had learned the ways of The Old Town before, and we knew The Way. The streets climbed upward, but then tilted downwards. We were close.

The streets opened up to a small square and we caught the first sounds of the Gaelic piper at the entrance to the main square that was our destination. We descended towards the arch where the piper played, and then, in a burst of bright afternoon sunlight, we stepped out of the darkness and into The Obradoiro Square.

Keeping our eyes purposely fixed ahead of us, we continued to the centre of the large space along the flagstone pathway that cut diagonally through the cobblestones. It was only when we were there, at the intersection of the paths from each corner of the square, that we paused, and turned to our left to savor the sight. There, illuminated by the bright afternoon sun, was the Cathedral de Santiago de Compostela.

We were really here. Our journey from SJPDP was a huge achievement for so many reasons, but right now, the last 10km together seemed a more significant one.

We hugged, and took our pics, and hugged again. Rather than turning to get our Compostela, as we had in the enthusiasm of the moment three years ago, we unclipped and lay our packs on the cobblestones, and then our bodies joined them, our heads propped and facing the cathedral.

The exhaustion, relief and emotions swept over us as we exhaled and allowed our aching bodies to relax and absorb the profile of the cobblestones beneath. We lay quiet, listening to the sounds of the Square, busy, but far from full, of pilgrims arriving, celebrating, crying and greeting. In the background the continuous sounds of the Gaelic pipes rang out, very much the soundtrack of this corner of the city.

Our bodies began to relax in a way that could only come from knowing they would not be called upon in an hour, or a day, to get up again and keep walking. The physical journey was almost over.

After a long while we slowly arose and made our way to the Oficina del Peregrino nearby to obtain our Compostela, our packs once again on our backs.

As we approached we noted a line of people outside and dreaded that once again the line would take several hours to move through. Fortunately for us, the crowd were those belatedly registering online and we passed around them, scanned our QR codes, received our service numbers and moved inside. The line was short, 15 minutes, no more. Despite efforts to hydrate, Leo was not feeling well and excused himself to sit outside in the small courtyard to let a wave of nausea pass. Our arrival had been a close-run thing.

Our numbers called, we were each received separately, and after being interviewed by friendly scrutineers, our names were entered in Latin onto our Compostela and given to us with a warm congratulations and a “Buen Camino“. We rolled them into their tubes and slipped them into our packs. There would be time to examine and appreciate them properly later, after the benefit of some rest.

Stepping out we saw Jon waiting and after hugs we immediately convened for a drink. We had last seen Jon in person in Zubiri on our second night on the trail, over 700kms ago. The Englishman now looked tanned and relaxed. We had been part of the same WhatsApp Camino group and he had won a challenge I had put to everyone – to post a pic of my favourite section of the trail near Najera. The winner to get a drink. Despite several Machiavellian attempts by me to honor my debt and arrange a surprise drink for him remotely, as Jon was travelling several days ahead, it still had not happened.

We convened at the nearest bar willing to serve us drinks without requiring us to buy a meal – we were definitely in Santiago now – and he finally got his beer! As we drank, and Leo ordered and nibbled on some olives, we related our respective Camino adventures, and provided updates on mutual friends and trail characters. Jon was a hardcore World traveller, but it was clear that the Camino experience had given him something different that he would reflect upon for awhile.

We were fading fast, and after finishing our drinks, we had to regrettably make our apologies and go looking for our hotel – mercifully just a couple of minutes from the Cathedral.

Later, a long while later, after resting and letting our family know we had arrived safely, we arranged to meet up with Grant, James.L and a couple of their Camino family for dinner. We recommended an Italian restaurant we had enjoyed last time, just 5 minutes stroll from our hotel. It was a wonderful gathering, over wonderful food.

We hi-fived and hugged the others – the near universal greeting of pilgrims in Santiago. The Aussie Drop Bears quickly related our respective days’ experiences – Grant and James.L had had a great afternoon, and had visited the pilgrim statues on their way in. They were clearly happy.

In many ways the important part of tonight’s dinner was the reunion of Grant and James.L with Mads and Mikael, who they had met on the first day and shared many, many adventures. We had enjoyed travelling with the Danish brothers briefly for a few hours in the middle of the Meseta. They were scheduled to fly home in the morning, and the desire of Grant and James.L to see them before they departed had been a major motivation to accelerate our travel.

Seeing and celebrating with people you have shared many challenges with after the journey is complete is a very special aspect of time spent in Santiago de Compostela.

Eventually, after much pizza, pasta and tiramisu – no need to worry about the calories today – we said our goodnights and gave our fond farewells to the brothers. See you next time! There always is a next time on the Camino.

We took the long way home, via the main square where the cathedral remains illuminated, and pilgrims return and gather until the early hours, the tourists long gone. It was a quiet night, no doubt tomorrow would be much busier as the crowd spending the holiday week walking from Sarria to Santiago began to arrive.

We stood and stared at the cathedral, too tired to move, and too exhausted to talk, or think. We were here, content, the emotional and physical relief of knowing the walking was finished was already washing over us, and would do so for many days to come.

We turned and began waddling back to the hotel. It had been a huge day on so many levels. It was time to rest. A lot.

Accommodation: Hotel Praza Quintana, Santiago de Compostela

Compelling motivation – a non-refundable booking for a special treat hotel 40km away! With real sheets and towels!

Departing Arzúa – the promise of an open cafe ahead

Home of the soon-to-be-famous taste sensation:
jam-on-jamon croissant

Early start – James.L, Leo & Grant – walking through the early morning was stunning

The first sun kisses the trail.

early morning mist still hugs the low ground

Another uphill bit – the trail likes to remind you that you are not there yet

The trail bordered by ancient stone retaining walls and pilgrims’ shrines

Beer garden! ……. or garden of beer

With its own Hórreo

Tostada of a different kind for breakfast.
Seemed like a good idea at the time.

Scruffy Dog!
Move very slowly – leaving the beer garden dog who couldn’t decide whether he wanted to befriend the boys or devour them

Baby on ‘The Way ‘

powering through

What would prove to be the last of the forests – climbing our way up to the airport

So near – the entry stone to the city,

yet so far – 10km to go

Jeffrey Smart would have loved this……the trail detours around the end of the city airport runway. By now our energy was fading fast.

The last brewery mural before Santiago.
Right now we were more focused on the steep hill.

Lateral thinking – the brief was to get both pilgrims and their packs to Santiago

Almost broken…..

….Leo resting after advising his Mother he was laying on the side of the road in pain.

no more hill ahead – it must be the summit!

We can make it from here! Monte de Grozo

The Cathedral’s three spires visible through the Eucalyptus-laden haze

Pope John Paul II’s monument……

…….. now gone forever

Not this time.
The famous joyous pilgrim statues in the distance

Our reunion would have to wait

The enormous Ciudad de Vacaciones Monte do Gozo complex now in much better health

Another new addition – an architectural ramp replaces the previous gravel steps …

….delivering pilgrims in style and comfort to Santiago’s entry

The sign! Not as stylish as those of some other towns, but a very welcome sight!

The Cathedral’s spires draw us onward. By now our legs were pretty much doing their own thing.

Waiting to cross into the Old City

At first the network of streets travel upwards….

….but then tilt down. Approaching the archway that would deliver us into the Cathedral Square.

The Gaelic piper heralds our triumphant arrival!

following the flagstones to the centre of The Obradoiro Square

Son + Cathedral. We had made it!

To use a term…..knackered!
Knackered: British, informal: tired, exhausted or broken.
Commonly used in Australia, Ireland, Newfoundland, NZ and the UK

Touchdown! Our bodies assume the shape of the cobblestones

To enter the Compostela office pilgrims had to pre-register – something we did on our phones as we walked through Santiago

Weary but excited Peregrinos wait for their number and to have their Credentiale scrutinised and obtain their Compostela

Compostela and certificate of distance for Leonem Sage

Jon from UK – the first of our Camino family to welcome us in.
Not seen since Zubiri- over 700km ago. Time for that drink!

Our digs – the ‘white’ balcony of the hotel buried in the Old Town.
One of the Cathedral’s many spires in the background.

Ahh the sights and sounds of Santiago’s Old Town restaurant quarter. Pilgrim reunion Ground Zero.

Our favourite Santiago food place still there – our recommendation for dinner

Team Aussie Drop Bears + Camino Family reunion.
Mads’ and Mikael’s last night before returning home.
The effort to get to Santiago before they departed clearly worth it.