Day 26 - to Ponferrada

As always, thanks to those who have sponsored me for the day or for 5000 steps and thanks to all who have spared me a thought or a prayer.

After I finished writing my blog yesterday, I returned to the hostel (in the restored church) and sat around for a while - a very little while. I finally decided, at around 5pm, that a brief rest would be a good thing. I was exhausted, dinner was at 8pm, and in this ghost town there was not much to see or do - and I had done it all.  About this time, I happened to speak all of three words in English to a young American pilgrim. At that, he immediately asked if I was THE priest. As it turns out, he had walked some of the Way with the American and Kiwi I had met a couple of days previously. When I confirmed that I was THE priest, he asked if there would be Mass in the evening. I explained that I had already been to Mass - and a beautiful Gregorian chant supported Mass it was. At this, the young fellow told me that he was one of 8 Americans who wanted Mass (and it was Sunday). So, I said that if they had the required items, I would celebrate Mass for them. They did so I did.

It was a really lovely Mass. About 1/3 of the old church is chapel space - very intimate - even more than our St Paul's Oratory in Ingham. About a dozen sat in fornt of me and another ten or so hovered to the side - where the beds are. The first reading was in Italian, the psalm in Spanish, the second reading in English and I read the Gospel in Spanish and in English. I said the Mass in Spanish, except for the prayers of the faithful which were, mostly, in English. I started the homily in Spanish but then said "I have no Spanish" and switched to alternating between Italian and English. I reflected on the last line of the second reading for St Paul's second letter to the Corinthians - when I am weak then I am strong. A beautiful line to reflect upon in the context of the Camino.

Having just been to confession, I know that there have been a number of times on the Way when I have been pushed to my limit. I have been weak and have given in to my weakness - cursing the stones under foot and the road signs nearby. But, in those moments, I can, instead, choose to rely on the strength of God - or the power of Christ carrying his cross. It was a lovely homilette and it was a beautiful Mass. The other pilgrims were very moved.  I am still glad that I also went to the Mass in Rabadal earlier in the day and had many an hour to reflect upon the readings.

In this parish hostel, they have a shared dinner every night. The volunteer host prepares the meal and we clean up - I provided some wine. The meal was a salad and an extraordinarily good vegetable minestrone - I had about 4 bowls. The wine flowed and so did the conversation. It was delightful.

After dinner, I went out with the Americans for a brief refreshing beverage. I thought that the hostel doors were closed at 10.30pm. Rather, the closed at 10pm. Two of us were 15 minutes late. I thought I would have to sleep outside in the cold mountain air. Thankfully, the host was keeping an eye out for us and let us in.

The night's sleep was a challenging one. There were three massive snorers in my space (that's out of a total of seven people. It was like sleeping next to the railway line with trains running constantly. Sadly, I did not have my earplugs. 

Everyone rose rather early and I was on the road at a good hour. The first two kilometres were a gentle uphill to the Iron Cross. That is the place where every pilgrim leaves a stone, usually representing some burden or hardship. I don't feel particularly burdened by anything. The experience was not a terrible moving one for me. I stood there in the light of breaking dawn and prayed the next decade of the rosary, which was nice, but nothing encouraged me to stay.

I hadn't prepared very well for the day. I thought that it was all down hill after the cross. I couldn't understand why it kept going up and up. It was only several hours later, when I went back and looked at the maps anew, that I discovered that the high point was well after the Cross of Iron.

After these couple of kilometres, I then faced what was amongst the most difficult of days on the Camino. Over the course of the next 20-something kilometres, I descended over 1000 metres. These down-hill trails were not easy, being mostly composed of shale and dust. One section of the route I thought would never end. Down and down and down and down we went - without seeming finish. 

There were also a couple of quite long stretches without any sign of human habitation. But, the few towns on the route were absolutely lovely and I really ambled my way through them.  I was particularly taken with the town of Molinosecca, which is were a very large number of pilgrims will spend the night. Its roman bridge and large 17th century church were outstanding. The river is ste up as a place to swim. I would have loved to have spent the afternoon there-in. 

As always, the last few kilometres were very hard going. They were five kms through the outskirts of Ponferrada with barely a tree in sight. I was so glad to finally arrive. We will see what the afternoon and evening brings.

Adios!