Part two,

The next day the wind had dropped, the sun was shining and we were belting along the road. For me this was a great day, riding along at the back of the pack just taking in the scenery and chilling out.

We visited the ruins of a roman villa; the ruins were discovered in the 70s and have been protected from the elements by a purpose built enclosure. Several well-preserved mosaic floors can be seen from an elevated walkway around the villa.

Mosaic of swasticas

The Spanish are in the midst of an enormous road-building programme; I saw more new roads in a week than I will have seen in Scotland for a year. The road that we were using was superseded by a brand spanking new dual carriageway leaving us with a well-surfaced country road and the prospect of another mellow day in the heat.

Stopping at a country café we just chilled out, eating lumps of bread, cheese, spicy sausage and ham, drinking lemonade, in the sunshine – what a life.

Reality came back with a bang, a short distance down the road we were on a busy roads with the traffic heading for Leon. Stopping in a café for our afternoon Magnum break gave me a chance to catch up on the Tour of France, the Spanish commentary could not hide Armstrong's’ epic climb in the Pyrenees, what a performance. (I was in the process of reading his autobiography, "It's not about the bike", a very moving read and well recommended. Makes you feel so humble, he went through hell to overcome his cancers.)

The final run into Leon was not enjoyable, it was so hot that the tar was melting on the road, the traffic was heavy and the only compensation was the descent into Leon, it was awesome! Our fitness was improving, travelling 111 km in five hours.

Leon

The next day promised to be one of the toughest so far. Ahead lay another 100 km run with an awesome climb over the Montes de Leon up to 1500 m, some 157 m higher than Ben Nevis.

The Spanish people are great supporters of the Camino, we had just overshot our turning when a passing motorist gesticulated wildly that we had missed our turning. Quite often a motorist or lorry driver would toot their horns simply to give encouragement to weary pilgrims.

Paul suffering under a hot sun

Back on the Camino and climbing steadily, passing through sleepy villages baking in the heat of the afternoon. A meeting with some German pilgrims smoking dubious cigarettes, more climbing and an impromptu drenching in a cool mountain stream later and we were at the top. Helmet back on and we then “nosed over” to start the descent; a 20% gradient followed by a few hairpin bends and we were hurtling into the village of Acebo with its treacherous road surface. (In the 80s, a German cyclist died here and others have been injured passing through this village at speed.)

Pilgrim souvenirs

Memorial to the German cyclist

Stopping at the tavern for a Magnum break, Tom suffered the ignominy of another puncture, his fourth and final puncture of the trip. The bike was bundled into the back of the van and Jim rode the downhill stretch for him.

It took 25 minutes to make the epic descent to Molinaseca, I was taking great pains not to overheat the wheel rims, avoiding a high-speed blow out on a mountain road was my top priority!

Molinaseca was another gem of a place, just what we had needed to see at the end of a hard day. We covered a credible 99 km in 5 hours 19 minutes.

Showered and enjoying a siesta we were awoken by church bells, a knock on the door and a call to action; vigil mass is in 5 minutes! Dressed in minutes we were off up the hill to the church. It turned out to be a baptism service and what a baptism it was. None of the reserve that accompanies baptisms at home; the congregation was all over the place, crowding around the poor, suffering priest, taking photographs, chatting and passing baby clothes between relations. Baptisms will never be the same again!

The pilgrims; Wallace, Tom, Jim, Neil and Paul

22nd July, the first part of the run was uneventful until we reached Ponferrada. When all our plans fell apart, the vital yellow spray painted arrows and road signs disappeared, so realising that we were lost I had to revert to good old fashioned Boy Scout navigation; its early in the morning so the sun must be in the east, so we'll head north, then realise our mistake, then go back a bit and turn right, err… that’s the direction of our shadow isn’t it?

The guesswork paid off handsomely as we managed to get back onto the right road and shave a few kilometres off our planned route into the bargain.

The rash of new road building compounded my general uncertainty, the NV1 twisted through narrow, steep sided valleys, so with not much room for a new road, the solution was to blast massive amounts of rock away and drive a new road through the mountains, the old coexisting with the new roads.

After lunch, we set off once again into uncertainty. The road signs directed us onto the new road, which turned out to be a mixed blessing, the road surface was smooth, and the gradient was easier, though the traffic was heavier, just one long slog up to the top at Puerto de Pedrafita 1109 m. Eventually near the top we rejoined the old NV1, and just to confuse things the even older NV1 was also still open.

Up at the top we started to look for our hotel, “it's another 4 km down the road” so off we went into the mountain top clouds. Arriving at O Cebreiro, we discovered that our hotel was not 4 but 44 km down the road!

The way up to O Cebreiro

In all honesty we could have made the 44 km without much trouble but as luck have it we found rooms at a beautiful mountain top hotel and spent the rest of the day resting and enjoying the view. Today we travelled a mere 65 km in 4 hours.

Half past five in the morning, the barking of dogs outside woke me up. Oh joy! Sleepily I poked my head out of the window to see the sun coming up over the mountains, the clouds were heavily tinged with orange, and the valley below was filled with clouds a beautiful sight. It was a pity none of the others were awake to share the experience…

The mist filled valleys at dawn

After breakfast we set off for the short climb to Puerto El Poyo, 1337 m then it was downhill for at least 30 km, going down three sets of 7% inclines – wonderful.

The town of Samos lay at the foot of the hill, where we met up with a group of Portuguese mountain bikers. One of them had a front wheel strapped to the back of his bike; the rim had blown out ripping the tyre and nearly trashing the rider in the process.

He had managed to find a replacement wheel, except that the ball bearings had since fallen out of the hub, the wheel was now canted over at an alarming angle. We saved the day by removing the bearings from my broken front wheel to rebuild his front wheel. A shame to come all this way to fall at the last hurdle, we never saw them again as they were making for Santiago that day, I hope that my balls are still enjoying the sun in Portugal… ahem!

Off again we were on our way mostly downhill to Sarria, this was where we should have been staying last night. After lunch we started off paying for the marvellous morning with a lot of climbing under a hot sun. Nearing Portomarin, we were rewarded with a marvellous descent; I hit 60 km/h, brave stuff even for me.

A Galician Horreo / grain store

The sun was beating strongly by now and our suffering was compounded when we again realised that our hotel was another 15 km farther down the road. We passed through some real rural areas; we passed a woman doing the washing at a communal open-air laundry, no machine, just elbow power cold water and plenty of soap.

Back on the main road and we started to motor again, through Palas de Rei, which would have been our destination for the day and before we knew it we had arrived in Melide. Our fitness had improved so much that we no longer bothered about an extra 15 km; after all we were now 15 km nearer to Santiago and Santiago was now a tantalising 55 km or so away. The longest distance covered, 110 km in 5 hours 15 minutes.

24th July, our final day, all went well until we reached the airport on the outskirts of Santiago, un-beknown to us a new motorway had bypassed the airport and “Free-fall” Dorward had missed the all important motorway signs and disappeared down the new road!

Route marker post, 12 km to go!

Being slower we found the diversion signs and followed the Camino route to the airport, Tom and I then followed the pilgrimage footpath for the last part of our journey. Arriving amongst the stream of pilgrims at the top of a hill marked by a huge monument and realised that this was it we had reached Santiago! What a feeling, a bunch of young pilgrims erupted into a spontaneous celebration; it was great to be with them on that hilltop.

Dancing for joy, its nearly over!

We still no idea where Neil and Paul were, we hoped that they had backtracked or somehow made their way into the city by some other route, we knew where Jim was he was stuck in the traffic looking for our hotel.

By a lucky coincidence we met up with Neil and Paul in the Praza de Cervantes, which we promptly renamed “Reunion Square.” Having found our friends we now felt that we could celebrate our arrival, Jim had found our hotel so all we had to do was find him and load our bikes into the van for the last time and that was that, no more cycling tomorrow.

Our pilgrimage was nearly over; washed and changed we made our way to the Cathedral to give our thanks for a safe pilgrimage at the base of the statue of St. James.

The end of the pilgrimage

The Kinross pilgrims; Jim ferrier, Fr. Neil Dorward, Tom Traynor and Wallace Shackleton

Out of the Cathedral and into the nearby Pilgrims offices to have our passports stamped for the last time and receive our certificates of pilgrimage. Been and gone and done it and received the certificate! We had a lucky break here: we had planned on going to Bilbao on the train or bus but that would take 11 hours, we discovered that there was special pilgrims discounts on the flights out of Santiago. So for £20 more we flew to Bilbao in just about an hour.

Bilbao

You can take the man out of Kinross, but not Kinross out of the man: Veterinary for beginners!

We travelled 61 km into Santiago in 3 hours 15 minutes. The grand total was 848 km or 526 miles.

We could not have made the pilgrimage without the help of Brian Farrell and the loan of “Christine” the van, Jim Farrier acting as our tour manager and last but no means least Graham and Maite Bowstead.

Postscript

Arriving home and after we had collected all the sponsorship money we had raised £3000 for SCIAF, Rachel House and the other parish charities, while Paul raised £6000 for the poor of Sao Paulo in Brazil; a project very dear to his heart.

Looking back I am glad I went on the pilgrimage I have memories that will last a life time, strengthened friendships and not to mention absolution for all sins past and present!

For further information about the pilgrimage follow the link to The Confraternity of St. James.