By Leo Overberg

The Via de la Plata is the toughest walking and cycling route in Spain. It is 1006 km long and the least travelled of all the Caminos (3% of all pilgrims). The starting point for us was Seville, the end point being Santiago (Saint James) de Compostela; it is believed that the skeleton of St. James the Apostle is buried there.

I cycled the Camino with my daughter, Siobhan, her partner, Kashmir, and a Spanish man, Karmelo, who joined us on day 3 of our 18-day adventure.
We started on September 1 in Seville and, although it was 38 degrees, the going was easy, cycling along a river through irrigated farmland of olives, oranges and corn. After 15 km things got harder as we started a long and gradual climb to our first albergue peregrinos (pilgrim hostel) in Castilblanco de los Arroyos. Day 1 was just a taste of what was to follow.

On day two we left the main road to follow the Camino yellow arrows and shell signs meant for walkers, and we soon found ourselves on gravel tracks ascending 1500 m and descending 1100m, continually up and down, all in 38-degree heat with no shade and no water for 31 km. We had to laboriously walk our bikes uphill and gingerly ride downhill for most of the 64 km we travelled that day.

Spain is a mountainous country and we spent many hours for the remainder of the trip struggling up inclines but also enjoying the occasional coast downhill where I once reached the dizzying speed of 56 km/hr; fatal if I had come off my bike. There were stages around Zamora where the country was more undulating but there we experienced strong headwinds and even had to use our low gears just to make headway. Towards the end of the ride the country became increasingly mountainous and although it was late summer, we were reminded that often we were riding above the winter snow-line.

We stayed the night in albergues that charged anything from ‘donativo’ to between 6 and 12 Euros a night ($10 to $20) for bunk style accommodation. On two occasions the albergues provided an evening meal. Breakfast usually consisted of a Coffee con Leche with a biscuit at a nearby cafe; if you wanted a more substantial meal you had to prepare one yourself the day before, as the Spanish have their main meal in the middle of the day and when they do it is always a sit down affair; sandwiches are not common. We met a few pilgrims from western Europe and these became more numerous the closer we got to our goal, Santiago de Compostela.

Our Camino is different from the other Caminos in that there were fewer travellers and we got to see a lot of Roman history, Romanesque churches and grand Cathedrals. We also passed through villages and hamlets where one saw the ever-present reminder of the Spanish Muslim past, as seen in the narrow winding streets of the old cities and the Mudejar architectural style. Some hamlets in the poorer mountainous areas were in a state of semi-decay because the young had left for the cities or work abroad in northern Europe, and only a few old people remained.

At the ripe old age of 76 I am proud that I walked or cycled every single kilometre of the Camino although I have to say that is was the toughest physical and mental challenge I have ever experienced and overcome; a few times I questioned why I was doing this. Why did I do this? That was a question we asked of each other on day 1 of the Camino. We all had different answers and not all in our small group gave a religious reason. For me, it was a time to bond with my daughter and her partner; to reflect on my life and what it was all about; my relationships with God, wife, family and friends; what I may have achieved and what legacy I might leave behind; what good I may have done for others and vice-versa.

I prayed privately for my family and friends and gave thanks for the good health given to me, and the privileged life my family and I enjoy in Australia.
A member of our group, a sculptor, spent much of his time photographing the grand cathedrals and sculptures, the tumble-down Spanish farmhouses as well as the castles, walled cities and Roman ruins; I am sure it will be reflected in his work back in Australia. The Spanish man in our group had never been outside his native Basque country and enjoyed discovering his own nation.

What made an impact for me was the harshness of the climate, especially in the Extremadura region, and how hard it must be to make a living there; where all that survives are the ever-present Spanish oaks with pigs foraging for acorns and the hardy olive trees that seem to thrive in the hot, dry summers and cold winters. We fortunately didn’t come across fighting bulls. Another aspect was the long and turbulent history the country has; the Galician bagpiper played music that was definitely Celtic in style; the Roman aqueducts, bridges, mileposts, and theatres; the influence of the Muslims on architecture, city planning and agriculture; the grand cathedrals and city squares of Spain’s golden age, and also, modern Spain where city outskirts consist of mostly high-rise developments and industrial parks.

On the last day of my Camino my daughter, Siobhan, asked if I had been to the cathedral to pick up my certificate for completing the Camino. I hadn’t known that was what you were supposed to do, so I went to look for my pilgrim passport that had a stamp for each albergue I had stayed in. Guess what! I searched high and low, but couldn’t find it.
So now I have completed the Camino and no certificate to frame and hang on the wall. Oh well!