by Jack Podsiadlo, SJ
photos by Thomas Meredith
"Walk five hundred miles? No way!"
That was my first reaction when someone suggest that I walk El Camino de Santiago de Compostela—The Way of St. James—during my sabbatical year in '07 and '08.
But the thought of walking this ancient pilgrim route across northern Spain to the tomb of the apostle St. James the Greater kept returning. I read Chris Lowney's A Vanished World and Joyce Rupp's Walk in a Relaxed Manner. A Camino enthusiast urged me on and recommended a few internet sites. In April I began walking several miles a day to get in shape.
"Why not?" became my second reaction. The Camino was becoming a part of my sabbatical year plan.
After a summer of training, I was ready to fly out of JFK in September with quick-dry clothes in my overloaded backpack. However, an emergency root canal followed by a biopsy of a growth on my arm delayed me for two weeks. So, even before my official Camino began, my inclination to be in charge was being challenged.
The I-am-not-in-control lesson was repeated many times on my way to Compostela. I couldn't always satisfy my e-mail addiction. When laundry didn't dry overnight, I had to pin it to my backpack so that it would flap in the breeze during the day. I was not always able to get the lower bunk in the albergues, or pilgrim hostels, and I was least in control of the many snorers with whom I shared the dorms.
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Fr. Jack Podsiadlo, SJ (above) learned the simple pleasures of solitude and companionship alike during his 500-mile pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. "The lesson was travel light and be grateful for unexpected kindnesses." The author learned to appreciate drip-dry clothes, chance encounters with fellow pilgrims, and juicy apples. | 
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I planned to walk alone and make the Camino a 30-day silent retreat, but this was not to be. The greeting, "Buen Camino!" often led to an exchange of pleasantries and a walking companion for at least a few kilometers. On my first day out of Roncesvalles, the popular starting point on the Spanish side of the Pyrenees, I accompanied an Australian woman, a conditioned hiker who planned on reaching Compostela in four weeks. I knew from the start I could never keep pace with her.
The next day I met Pedro, José, and Prudencia, three young Spaniards. Soon Thomas, a photographer from Texas, joined us. Andrea, from Italy, rounded out our group and entertained us each evening with his guitar. Although our motives for making the Camino were different, we enjoyed each other's company. When our little community dispersed, we knew that each had been touched by the others.
Other friendships developed along the Camino. Mattias was a German engineering student who read Kafka for fun. Kertes, a waiter from Budapest, was uncertain of the effect of the Camino on his life but was giving it a try. Andrea and Manuela, Austrian sisters, delighted in inviting everyone to join them for meals. Karen walked from her home in Switzerland and arrived in Santiago de Compostela three months later.
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For centuries, pilgrims on their way to Santiago de Compostela have relied on albergues, simple housing specifically for people on the Camino. This albergue in Roncesvalles, a converted barn with about 120 beds, is one of the largest. |
Paulo from Sardinia, Maria Elena from Mexico, Pieter from Belgium, Markus from Berlin, and so many others enriched my Camino with their stories, laughter, and, at times, silent presence. Breaking bread with people from different backgrounds makes the Camino experience unique. Conversations get deep: reasons for making the Camino, concern for world peace, ecology, spirituality, theology.
So that was the second lesson I learned: Go ahead and invest energy in short-term encounters, and do so just because of the possibilities they hold.
It's hard to get lost on the Camino. Yellow arrows painted on the sides of buildings or trees, even on the road, appear about every 15 meters in crowded cities and deserted countryside alike. Periodic stone markers indicate the distance to Compostela. Yet there's always the temptation to strike out on one's own. As our little band was heading to Burgos, a young couple who joined us that morning thought it would be quicker to walk across a recently harvested wheat field than to follow the arrows around it. We soon found ourselves in mud up to our ankles when we weren't in ditches of foul-smelling water. Thomas almost lost his camera trying to wade through a particularly deep ditch. It took us an hour to get back onto the clearly designated road. Later, after showering and washing clothes and boots, we all agreed we had learned another lesson: Don't wander off the well-marked path.
| Lunches tend to be quick and easy on the Camino, but dinners can be more-relaxed events at the night's albergue. |
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The author learned to enjoy chance encounters with fellow pilgrims. Differing paces made for differing travel companions any one day. | |
As it crosses the provinces of Castile and Leon, the Camino rises to the high plain called the Meseta. It took me a week to cover this long, flat stretch. Some pilgrims call it boring; for me it was an experience of solitude. I walked 20 to 22 miles a day, encountering only a handful of fellow pilgrims. My walking took on a natural rhythm. I covered great distances on automatic pilot. The sound of my walking sticks hitting the rocky ground created a counterpoint to my footsteps. I became very attentive to my physical surroundings. Plots of recently harvested wheat created a checkerboard pattern with plots of recently tilled red-brown earth. Each day only a few clouds sailed across a deep blue sky. I walked through many small towns, some over a thousand years old. Many of the stone houses displayed family coats of arms and construction dates—1752 on one, 1820 on another. I filled my water bottles with cold, fresh water from town fountains as pilgrims have been doing for hundreds of years.
Walking alone made me aware not only of external rhythms but also of interior movements of spirits. I was graced with feelings of gratitude for almost 50 years in the Society of Jesus. Wave after wave of images of family and friends, former teachers and students and classmates, and significant moments of ministry washed over me. I found myself deeply into the final exercise of Ignatius's Spiritual Exercises, the Contemplation for Obtaining Love. The prayer, first memorized in the novitiate, spontaneously flowed from my lips: "Take, Lord, and receive . . ."
As I walked, preparations were underway for the Society's 35th General Congregation in Rome. Jesuits representing all parts of the world were to gather in January to elect a successor to Fr. Peter-Hans Kolvenbach and to address matters important to the Society in the twenty-first century. Each day of my Camino I prayed for the delegates as every Jesuit was asked to pray: May the Holy Spirit, who guided Jesus, guide them to your son's heart.
The Meseta, I learned, was not to be feared but to be embraced. Solitude is not to be avoided, but rather to be savored.
THE WAY OF ST. JAMESPilgrims consider the journey to Santiago de Com-postela as starting at their front door. Their paths ultimately converge on one of four main routes that leads to their destination. The French route, which enters Spain through Roncesvalles, is the most traveled. Monasteies along the way cared for the pilgrims during the peak of the Camino's popularity in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Though interest declined in later years, it never died out. In the twentieth century, Spanish dictator Francisco Franco visited Compostela's cathedral each year on the feast of St. James, July 25, as King Juan Carlos and Queen Sofia do today. Pope John Paul II gets credit for much of the recent resurgence because of his visits in the 1980s. American actress Shirley MacLaine and Brazilian novelist Paulo Coelho are among those who published accounts of their Camino experiences, motivating thousands to set their sights on Compostela. The cathedral keeps records of those who complete at least 100 kilometers and receive the official Latin certificate. The number grew from 2,491 in 1986 to 100,377 in 2006, with a peak of 179,944 pilgrims during the Santiago Holy Year of 2004. | 
The way to Santiago de Compostela (Saint-Jacques de Compostelle for those beginning the journey over the Pyrenees in France) is marked by simple arrows painted on buildings and posts and elaborate markers such as this, which feature the scallop-shell symbol of St. James. |
I had to fit into my backpack everything needed for the pilgrimage, trying not to exceed one-tenth of my body weight. Mine was overweight because of the books I thought I couldn't do without. After a few days I mailed them home. Two sets of underwear, two pairs of pants, two walking shirts, and four pairs of socks—all of the quick-dry variety—good walking boots, rain gear and flip-flops were all I really needed. A lightweight sleeping bag is essential since the albergues offer bunks or cots but no bedding. The sleeping bag also served as my sacred space, my only escape from weary, snoring fellow pilgrims.
Albergues provided the other essentials: hot showers, facilities for hand washing and drying clothes, a lounge or kitchen where food is prepared, shared, and enjoyed. Some even have internet access. In the town of Nájera, our group was delighted to discover that local folks prepare a traditional meal every Saturday for pilgrims staying at the albergue. In Villafranca, a Brazilian volunteer prepared a delicious seafood dinner topped off with chocolate flan. High in the mountains near Cruz de Ferro, Don Tomas, who considers himself the last of the Knights Templar, prepared a hearty stew for us pilgrims who chose to stay in his albergue that lacks electricity, running water, or convenient toilet facilities. For someone who has been meditating on Ignatius's Principle and Foundation for half a century, the Camino offered me a very concrete experience of using things inasmuch as they are helpful and doing without when they become burdensome. In other words, the lesson was travel lightly and be grateful for unexpected kindnesses.
After 38 days on the road, I arrived at Monte de Gozo (Mountain of Joy) in the late afternoon of October 28. From this mountain top, pilgrims first sight the spires of the Cathedral of Santiago. My Camino was almost over, or so I thought. To my delight, several former walking companions also arrived that day. Together we enjoyed bowls of a hearty local soup known as caldo gallego, along with an outstanding regional white wine. Joining us for dinner was a Brazilian who began his Camino, on bicycle, in Vietnam, seven months previously.
The early morning rain clouds broke up and the sun began to warm Santiago's city as I arrived at the grand plaza in front of the historic cathedral. I climbed its Baroque staircase, entered through the twelfth-century Portico de la Gloria (Gate of Glory) and suddenly found myself welcomed by Santiago himself, carved in stone almost a millennium ago, as he has welcomed millions of pilgrims since then. I prayed for those who had preceded me and those who were still to come: innumerable, like the stones that paved my way here.
| The goal of every pilgrim is the cathedral of Santiago, built beginning in 1075 and consecrated in 1211. Pilgrims enter the cathedral through the west façade, then pass through the Portico de la Gloria (Gate of Glory), where they stop to pray to St. James, whose carved figure is one of the portico's many famous adornments. |
Next stop was the pilgrim office where I received my Compostela, the official Latin document confirming my successful completion of the Camino. Leaving the office I literally bumped into Andrea, whom I hadn't seen in three weeks. He reminded me of the next important event: "See you at the Pilgrim Mass."
As I vested for the special noon Mass at which all the newly arrived pilgrims are welcomed and honored, I wondered about my friends' reactions, since I never told them I was a priest. I was deeply touched by their eye contact, smiles, and expressions of surprise as I distributed Communion to them. Later, over dinner, the Austrian sisters asked in unison, "Why didn't you tell us?"
"You didnt ask," I replied. That evening several of us attended the Pilgrim Prayer, a chance to reflect, share Camino experiences, and pray together. There I learned another Camino lesson, carved in stone, over a side entrance to the cathedral. In place of the alpha and omega there appear omega and alpha, reminding pilgrims that the end of the Camino of Santiago is the beginning of the Camino of life. My Santiago Camino was over but my life pilgrimage continues. Ignatius set out on pilgrimage from his family home in search of God's will in this life. When he dictated his Autobiography toward the end of his life, he still referred to himself as the "pilgrim." What an important lesson for all of us, whether we hike across Spain or, day after day, travel the streets and highways of that unique place where God has planted each one of us. 
| Fr. Jack Podsiadlo, SJ, was the executive director of the Nativity School in New York and founder and director of the Nativity Educational Centers Network. | 
| Thomas Meredith, a photo-journalist in Austin, Texas, covers major media events as well as local stories. His interest in the Camino began while studying in Spain. |