Dual pack,
Saddle-like upon her back,
A heavy burden carried she,
To weigh her down across the scree.
Somewhat miffed,
She should have sniffed
Her way along the Way,
Conjuring visions of canines past
Assessing them from first to last,
On every wall, bush, tree and stone
A message for dogs, and dogs alone.
Jet lagged. Fitful sleep. Not the best night, not until four o’clock anyway, whereupon I fell into a deep slumber, not to wake until ten-thirty. Not an early start! But having breakfast in front of the cathedral, my spirits revived.
Earth has nothing to show more fair... (Wordsworth)
An inspiring view in full sunlight, no scaffolding, just glorious brown stone! And all the other majestic churches and convents in the old city as I made my way west, before passing through industrial wasteland with its graffitied, dusty white concrete buildings and the occasional abandoned warehouse, roof gone, rafters exposed. A long trudge to the outskirts of the city. The tourist pilgrims would avoid this, alighting from their coach just out of town, but the long, dull stretches are part of the Camino too.
Strange how my pack is heavier, even though I packed less.
At La Virgen del Camino I had to choose the shorter historic route along the N120 or the variant. A desire to escape the highway led me on a track across dry, brown terrain, eventually to the little village of Oncina de La Valdoncina, where I’m staying at Albergue El Pajar. I have walked only 12 kms, but that’s enough for today.
I met two pilgrims on the way, a female couple, the taller one carrying the lighter burden. They had begun at Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, and had a terrible time crossing the Pyrenees. What is the word for something worse than a storm? she asked. Tempest, I ventured. Well, it was so bad they were lying flat on the ground to avoid being blown away, she said. The dog was injured and had to go to the vet in Pamplona.
I wonder whether the cathedral office in Santiago makes any allowance for dogs. Some days off curgatory, for example? Or perhaps if she doesn’t make it, the ultimate reward? I am reminded of the bishop of York, who said that if his dog Katie wasn’t going to heaven, nor was he.
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