Camino de Santiago Day Eighteen and Nineteen

San Antón to Boadilla del Campo to Villalcázar de Sirga to Ledigos

It was a beautiful sunny walk from San Antón through Castrojeriz. Like many mornings we reflected on the people we met the day before. We pray “be in the heart of each to whom I speak and in the heart of each who speaks unto me” so it makes sense to talk about those we meet. 

Outside of the town we walked up to the meseta—an ascent of 1.5km at an 18% grade.

On the top of the hill is a makeshift cross, a memorial made of pilgrims’ trinkets. 

We spent the night in Boadilla del Campo at a popular albergue with a garden, “pool” (you might soak your feet but not your body), and a mural wall. We went to the church before dinner to see if it was open. It was Sunday, and of course it would be open, but it wasn’t. Joining us was a group of men from a small town in Alicante. We started bantering in Spanish. Who had the key, what’s with these churches in this part of Spain that wouldn’t even exist if not for the Camino—most of these towns have two residents...

The oldest man was 75. He started walking the Camino when his wife died eleven years ago. He walks it every year and brings the younger men (in their sixties) from his village. They all have matching shirts and hats with pins collected from previous Caminos.

I learned the right way to make paella de conejo and paella primavera from the elder man. The rabbit has to be fresh from the corral, not wild or from the carniceria. Where do you get a rabbit? I asked. The neighbor. I told him my neighbor doesn’t have rabbits, and he said we all know someone who has rabbits. Snails go with the rabbit. Unlike the conejo paella, the primavera paella has garlic, only young tender garlic, artichokes (only in season) and green beans (also in season). And all paella is eaten with bread and vino tinto—except the seafood paella which is eaten with vino blanco. But seafood is too expensive for these working men. 

We also talked about education. Most of them only completed primary education because their parents needed them to work when they were children. Spain was a poor country until 30 years ago. So much has changed. Their children and grandchildren are bilingual, have cell phones and drive their own cars.

We also talked about faith. The elder is very comfortable with his faith. He doesn’t go to confession since his wife died. I don’t have any pecados, he said. (He also said he doesn’t snore since his wife died.) I don’t kill anyone, I don’t go after women. So I confess once a year in Santiago. My priest says I need to go to mass like a plant needs water. But I don’t. 

They asked me what I did for work and how I know Spanish. I told them about my studies in school. They couldn’t wrap their heads around a pastor who works full time for one church not several churches. 

We talked about grandchildren and one of the men told me all about how the moors were driven out of Spain, which regions speak Castellano and which speak other languages like Catalan, Basque, and Gallego.

At dinner I spoke with a German man about why Fords are more affordable for Germans to drive, and with an Italian from Calabria who works in Slovakia about how he misses his grandmother’s food. They both are walking the Camino to figure out their career paths—time alone to think through what’s next.

Today from Villalcázar de Sirga we walked along Via Aquitana, the ancient Roman road connecting Bordeaux to Astorga. This is farmland and there is a network of large and small canals to bring water—we follow some form of water all the way. Sometimes we can follow the yellow arrows and other times we need local knowledge. 

This is the beginning of a week long section through Castilla y León that is monotonous, flat farmland. Many pilgrims skip this 100 mile stretch—bus from Burgos to León or bike. It’s boring. But those who choose to walk are philosophical about it. If it’s a pilgrimage meant for self reflection, maybe this is the most important part—dealing with our own wilderness experience rather than jumping forward to the promised land. One pilgrim, an Irish woman began to tear up when we talked about wilderness. That’s exactly what it felt like last time, she said, 40 days in the wilderness.

There aren’t many villages in this section and not many churches open to offer mass or pilgrims blessings, which adds to the wilderness experience. The beautiful 12th century Crusader church we saw from our window in Villalcázar de Sirga wasn’t open all day. 

So, it’s an opportunity to pay attention and give thanks for all we see and all we meet. That night at dinner we sat with two pilgrims from the UK, one woman relocated from Dublin and the other woman from Yorkshire. We talked about a lot of things (U2 and how Gerry grew up in Dublin the same time as Bono and the band), but also about our experience of pilgrimage from different perspectives and motivations, and what spiritual may mean to us.

That day we met two French couples doing the Camino. They completed a previous section together and hope to complete the last section in the Fall. They have a car, so one of the four drives ahead with luggage and lunch and meets the three along the way. 

Amy and I start our day with morning prayer, following the scriptures from the Solana Beach Church app. We have hours talking together and hours alone in quiet—especially along this stretch where there aren’t as many pilgrims to connect with. I can’t remember when I’ve had so much time to think, pray, daydream, reflect and sing loudly.

On my iPhone (which is my one tool for taking pictures, blogging, calling, navigating and listening to music) I listened to the Gregorian chant music Silos, recorded in the 1990s by the monks of Santo Domingo de Silos in a town about 40 miles south of Burgos. The medieval sounds made me think about a thousand years of pilgrims and their experience of worship. I can’t sing chant well—I don’t know the Latin words—but I try to sing out as if we were in worship together.

Amy and I looked up the lyrics of songs sung at SBPC last weekend—missing the voices and instruments and sounds of our worship, but singing out familiar lyrics that connect us in worship. 

At the end of the day Joshua Tree provides the spring our steps so desperately need to get to our destination.

We carried a treat from Sirga—almendrados made of flour, sugar and almonds. It was great with café con leche before starting our afternoon leg to Ledigos.



The meseta is also a chance to give thanks for all we eat.