Today marks the last sustained climb of the trip. Once it starts, it’s 700 meters of fairly uninterrupted vertical plus 400 additional ‘fun’ meters of rollers. Even though my trail legs feel pretty good at this point, I’d be lying if I said I was super excited.
The weather today, unlike for all of the previous big climbs, is looking great. I have a private room booked for this evening, so I’m not really worried about time. I’ve also decided to break my usual ‘go until you’re done’ strategy and break the climb into three sections, stopping at the two villages on the way up.
As I walk thru Las Herrerias, I see Victor getting ready for the day. I only know about Victor because a friend a few days behind me shared that she wants to take the alternate transport up O Cebreiro – Victor’s horse team. Standing at the foot of the climb, I am suddenly envious of her plans, even though I’m pretty sure riding a horse for three hours would bring new and unexpected pains. However, the horses are beautiful and calm and it’s fun to watch, knowing I’ll see them again later in the day.
I start up the first section and I’m soon passed by a woman on an ebike. Shortly after she goes past, I’m passed by another ebike. This one helmed by an older gentleman in skin tight, low-rise black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a pair of loafers. The whole look is so incongruous with the activity I can’t help but chuckle. For some reason, it’s even odder a little further up when it turns out that the woman and Mr. Skinny Jeans are together.
The path soon diverges from the road and I find myself in a beautiful forest. As the path winds up the hillside, I’m treated to short views of several waterfalls. I marvel at the gardens carved into the slopes. These are produce gardens and are all carefully tended and recently watered. No hose bibs in sight.
I make my way to the first planned stop and break for a tarta de Santiago and a coffee. Amazingly, a month into the trip, I order my coffee incorrectly and am ‘treated’ to a long winded harangue, in rapid fire Spanish, about how to order. Ironically, in the end, I still don’t get the coffee I wanted. The tart was excellent though!
I shoulder my pack again and restart the climb, just in time to catch Victor and his horses clop through town. I realize that while the riders aren’t exerting as much physical effort, they also don’t have much flexibility on where they stop. At least that’s the consolation I tell myself.
The second stage runs through various fields and oddly, at parts, is substantially below the surrounding terrain. It feels like walking in a subway tunnel with the roof ripped off. I am very grateful for the dry weather today because I can only imaging the sluices of mud in the rain or snow. I stop briefly to admire two of the locals before pushing on to my next stop.
I make it to my second stop where seemingly all of the cyclists on conventional bikes have gathered. Even though I know the bikes take a different path (They stick to the road for this section,) I’m still awed by their determination. Today is a rough climb and I don’t envy them the time they are spending out of the saddle today. I opt for an omnipresent zumo de naranja – A habit that I will sorely miss when I head home. Seemingly every cafe in the smallest, remotest village has a machine to squeeze fresh orange juice to order and it’s divine. Rightly or wrongly, I credit all of the vitamin C I’ve been getting for helping to stave off the ‘kennel cough’ that many of my fellow pilgrims seem to be carrying.
I linger longer than I should and realize that I’m going to get to my albergue well after 2pm. Not a problem from a ‘getting a bed’ perspective, but a big problem from a ‘Wow, that sun is HOT!’ perspective. I vow to make this last push in good time, but am soon thwarted by the astounding beauty before me. I’ve found repeatedly on this trip that it’s important to stop and look to see where you’ve been. That the views we walk past are often better than those ahead. Today is no exception. I’m not sure if it’s the physical exertion or the fact that this is really the first true ‘hero’ view I’ve had of the trip, but I’m overwhelmed and somewhat teary as I take pictures. My snapshots truly can’t do justice to the view.
After I collect myself, I make the final push to the summit. O Cebreiro is a tiny mountain village, centered around a small church. The village and church date to the 1300s and have been an important stop on the Way for centuries. The church is definitely not the most elegant or ornate of this trip. It’s a simple stone entry way, and the interior is almost devoid of natural light. Instead, it is almost entirely illuminated by hundreds of votives, clustered around the various altars. While I am not particularly religious, nor would I consider myself to be very spiritual, I am overtaken by the connection to hundreds of years of ritual and the thousands of souls that have stood in this spot, searching. I am startled to find myself ugly crying, swept away by the magnitude of the place, the journey I’ve been on, and the connection to a religious tradition that I haven’t felt in decades, if ever.
I hear other pilgrims entering, so I take a few minutes to collect myself. Slightly embarrassed, but at peace with an uncharacteristically emotional response. I make sure to collect a stamp, although I won’t need the imprint to remember this moment. I continue through the rest of the charming village, rueful that I’m not staying here tonight.
I spend the next 7km in contemplation of the overall experience so far and I work on setting my intention for the remainder. I pass a small danger noodle; since I have no knowledge of Spanish reptiles, I give it a wide berth. The rest of the hike is fairly uneventful, with the exception of the final climb into Alto do Poio. All I will say about that is 1) I’m not sure who laid out that part of the route, but a 100M totally exposed 50 degree climb is just mean and 2) to be faced with the accommodations in Alto do Poio after that mean climb is just salt in the wound. Do yourself the favor and continue the additional 3.4kms to Fonfria!
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