Editor’s note: Rick McKay, Joe Masonick, and Jack Karolewski, have been travel companions for more than 50 years to a variety of sites with many goals. This week’s adventure is the 16th in the series, a 14-day hike in 2005 across northern Spain’s intriguing Camino de Santiago, known as the Way of Santiago, for a religious retreat and pilgrimage. Visiting various villages on the journey requires continual hiking and climbing.
The previous article is at https://thevoice.us/journey-stop-unique-tomas-place
By Rick McKay
Day 3 continuation of travel from, Rabama; to El Acebo, Sunday, Sept. 18, 2005
Climbing through the mountains continues. The village of Manjarin reveals ruins and a rest stop at an establishment by Tomas and his wife. Then it was onward.
Thereafter we climbed to the Cruz de Hierro (the Cross of Iron) where pilgrims traditionally place stones from their hometowns at the base of a tall wooden pole on top of which is fixed an iron cross.
The tradition began in ancient times when Celts, who often left stone cairns on mountain passes, began depositing them here when approaching the easternmost range of the Cordillera Cantabrica. The Romans continued the tradition and called the stones “murias” after Mercury, god of travel. Note: These two ranges, the eastern and western Cordillera Cantabrica, though not high by Rocky Mountain standards, would represent the most challenging part of our journey.
During the Christian era the tradition persisted as pilgrims passed this point en route to Santiago. To make the previously pagan tradition more palatable to the Catholic Church, the hermit Guacelmo from Rabanal, placed an iron cross on top of the pole around which the stones were heaped.
Hereafter we continued to climb and climb and climb until finally we looked down into the valley between two ranges of the Cordillera Cantabrica which we must cross to reach Santiago.
Before reaching the summit, while sitting on a small bridge across the tarmac road, we met a Frenchman who sat and chatted with us for a spell. We knew little French, he little English, yet we seemed to get along quite well. It’s always surprising to me that most folks you meet don’t give a lick about their politicians. He thumbed his nose at both French president Jacques Chirac and our president George W. Bush, dismissing them with a flap of his hand. Politics in general, and politicians in particular, seem to emphasize the differences in people. However, as one travels, one realizes that we are much more similar than different in our hopes, dreams, and aspirations.
Then it was down, down, down, each step which sent shivers of pain up my sore right leg and rammed the toes of each foot into the fronts of my running shoes.
Finally, El Acebo appeared over a rise and soon we were at an albergue midway through town. For 10 Euros we acquired a private room with three beds in the hope that we might realize a good night’s sleep at last.
—Continued at thevoice.us/hiking-in-northern-spain-somewhere-in-19th-century-not-21st