Angels in Unlikely Places

Camino. Chapter 15

This is my serialized story of walking the Camino de Santiago across Northern Spain with my sister-in-law. If you’d like to start at the beginning, click here.

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Day 13: Marlene and I are excited to get to Burgos. The Camino goes straight through the City, and we, poor pilgrims, are ready to rest, enjoy the cathedrals and cafes, and regroup mentally before our next significant challenge: the meseta, a high desert-like plateau in the middle of Spain that will take us approximately a week to cross.

In the dark we quietly get up and leave our dormitory of sleeping pilgrims, and at 5:30 AM say a quick prayer outside the hostel. We are in the small town of Santovenia, rather than where we wanted to be, due to the even tinier town of Ages being booked solid with other pilgrims. We stand in the square and have a choice to make: we can either hike back the two miles we walked upon leaving the Camino yesterday to get to Santovenia or follow the Camino signs we see up the street leading us out of the town in a different direction.

My thinking is that this alternate Camino route will have us reach the main route in several miles - as has been the case with other alternative routes we’ve hiked already. Marlene agrees, though it’s disconcerting to both of us that this alternate route is not listed in either of our guide books. Still, off we go through and alongside country fields in the dark. We hike with Marlene wearing my head lamp under a magnificent sky heavy with the last of the night’s backpack full of stars. We don’t typically start this early and are amazed at the beauty of the cosmos. I can’t help but think of the phrase, “God’s in his heaven and all’s right with the world.”

We have fourteen miles to hike today and expect to be in Burgos by mid-morning. Following the Camino signs, we make excellent time until we reached our first town at around 7 AM. There, the situation changes, as we can’t find the next Camino sign leading us on our journey. Do we continue straight or take one of the side roads? We have no idea and are forced to explore a number of different streets looking for some indication of which way to go. To top it off, our guide books, published by two different companies, have no mention of the town through which we are now hiking.

Two things we have learned in our pilgrimage so far, first, the Camino is a very well-marked route - at times almost impossible to get lost if one pays attention and looks for the blue Camino signs with the yellow seashell or, even more frequently, the painted yellow arrow. Secondly, pilgrims, themselves, are a good indication if we are on the Camino. We have become used to seeing fellow pilgrims either in the distance, just ahead, or following behind. A town with no Camino signs, no yellow arrows, and no pilgrims is not a good place to be.

Strangely enough, like in an episode of The Walking Dead, we see small clusters of teenagers holding on to each other and swerving on the sidewalk as they work their way towards us. I can’t help but think we would be wise to avoid this “herd.” Marlene points to a barn ahead of us that appears to be a discotheque. Partiers are streaming out and now heading our way. Marlene and I agree, we don’t want the inevitable complications we likely would encounter in asking the “all night” partiers for directions, especially when we don’t know where we are and neither of us can speak the language.

We cross the street and, as unobtrusive as possible, continue walking down the main boulevard. Soon, thank god, we spot a woman sweeping the sidewalk in front of her cafe. Through halting words and gestures, as neither Marlene nor I know how to say what we need to say, we explain our situation. She slowly realizes what we are asking and indicates that we should continue straight ahead. After thanking her and with much relief, we head out of this strange town and, shortly thereafter, spot our next Camino sign.

But, the stage is now set. We realize our guide books are useless, and we are at the mercy of random Camino signs. This drama plays out three or four more times as we lose our direction, recover with the help of local villagers and farmers, and slowly continue our pilgrimage toward Burgos.

At one point, hiking along a field, Marlene goes off to pee, and it isn’t until two miles later that she realizes she has left her hiking poles behind in the field. She goes back to search, but can’t find the spot where she left them. I sit for forty-five minutes in the square of a small town waiting for her. The cafe across from me is like a bad joke. It isn’t open, of course, because it is Sunday in Spain, where, I am reminded from the week before, nothing is ever open on Sundays, given the country’s strong religious roots. I am hungry because we didn’t take this into account and wait for the hostel’s free breakfast, and, more significantly, I need a caffeine fix. I need my two espressos. I decide, while I sit there, being lost all morning without an espresso is hard work.

The lost poles put us in a funky mood as we continue to stumble blindly to Burgos. “It’s only stuff,” Marlene says out-of-the-blue. “It’s only stuff…” She points out that her word for the pilgrimage is “surrender.” Perhaps, she was meant to surrender her poles as part of her journey. She, in fact, left her poles behind a week earlier at a small shrine to the Mother Mary, she reminds me, but a pilgrim found them for her.

I am not sure about Marlene’s serenity in losing her poles. Of all people - I am the one who came to Spain without poles - I tell her, “Losing hiking poles is a big deal, especially not knowing what lies ahead.” She can surrender all the bobby pins she wants, but she can’t surrender her poles. We agree she must buy poles in Burgos.

Later, we follow a Camino sign that leads us down a little used, dirt road by more than a mile. Here, too, we keep saying to each other, “This can’t be the route for the Camino,” as we are being led further and further away from the main road where highway signs for Burgos direct traffic to go straight ahead. Finally, underneath a tight overpass with a dirty stream full of trash below us and what looks like a well-used drug dealers’ hang out beside us, we decide to give up the search for the next Camino sign, turn around, and follow the main road to Burgos.

Shortly thereafter, a group of ten or so dirt bikers come roaring up to us on this little used road. The pack stops when the first biker is beside us and, again, through gestures and statements we can’t understand, the rider indicates we must go back. We thank them all. Truly, of all the things that could have happened here on this deteriorating stretch in the middle of nowhere, they are a welcomed surprise.

Walking back, we meet Emanuel, our Croatian friend from the hostel the night before. Emanuel is following the same route we took out of Santovenia and has encountered similar directional challenges. He is thrilled to bump into us, but we are even more delighted to find him. He can speak a little Spanish and, just as importantly, has a cell phone with coverage through which we can use Google Maps to get into Burgos.

When we reach the main road, we realize upon inspection that the Camino sign that led us down the dirt road has been twisted to throw pilgrims off the designated route. Some pilgrim, we discover, even wrote on the back of the sign “Do not follow, this is a prank.” The three of us try to turn the twisted sign back to the way it should go, but it is too tight, we can’t budge it. As much as we hate to leave it the way it is, there is nothing else we can do. Indeed, after walking in darkness full of awe-induced stars, the clarity of daylight has brought more than enough confusion and complications.

Through Google Maps and Emanuel asking villagers in halting Spanish, we finally make our way to the famous river walk into Burgos. For us, Emanuel is a dream come true, and we gladly stay close to his side. He is truly a Camino Angel who, thank God, Marlene got to know yesterday afternoon and who came to us this morning just as we were at our bleakest. Like Moses, he led us out of the “desert”… and takes us directly to our hotel, before he, in turn, walks off to find his own way - but not before we thank him profusely! He truly has been a godsend.

Now 2 PM in the afternoon, with our dream of getting to Burgos by mid-morning totally shattered, we quickly take showers and go out and get something to eat (we haven’t eaten the entire day). In Burgos, restaurants, cafes, and bars are open, unlike in the countryside, and we soon find a cute outdoor spot where we are served tapas and red wine. We realize, too, we are just across the street from the main cathedral.

Now that we are here in the historic section of the city and back on the “traditional” Camino route, we look for a hiking store, but discover they, too, are all closed. As we are staying only one night, tomorrow we will be long gone, unfortunately, before the stores open. Buying poles for Marlene will have to come later on our pilgrimage.

“It’s only stuff,” Marlene repeats to herself and me too.

The remainder of the afternoon we spend touring the main cathedral and a historic museum. All the other attractions are closed.

Later, in looking at pictures I took on my cell phone, I discover one that I shot yesterday when we came out of the Oca Mountains. It is of a sign showing various Camino routes. I now realize that the Camino we followed into Burgos was a new route designed to spread pilgrims out beyond Ages. We just didn’t comprehend what we were being shown - beyond it pointing out the road to Santovenia

It turns out our guide books, which indicate they are up-to-date, are fallible and did not include these new additions to the pilgrimage. The Camino is a “living” and ever-evolving path forward that has changed many times, I realize, over its 1100 years. At 5:30 AM this morning, if we didn’t want to evolve with it, we should have walked back the two miles to where we left the Camino, then our books would have been perfect for leading us into Burgos.

That evening, Marlene goes to Mass at the cathedral near where we had tapas and prays. I hope she prays for our path to be clear in the weeks ahead and, if not, for angels to help poor pilgrims, like us, discover the Way.

Blessed are you, pilgrim, when you lack words to express your gratitude for all that surprises you at every turn in the road.

Click here to read the previous chapter.