After walking across the Pyrenees from France into Spain, my plan was to continue along the thousand-year-old “Way of Saint James” as far as Pamplona. There I’d declare an end to my brief pilgrimage and catch a train for Madrid and a flight home. But what I love about the Camino de Santiago is its way of tweaking the simplest of plans, suggesting life lessons to the pilgrim with a receptive mind and heart.
On this particular pilgrimage I wasn’t going all the way to the magnificent cathedral at Santiago de Compostela but simply walking part of the way in hopes of experiencing two things that I’d been unable to do earlier. One was to cross the Pyrenees by the challenging mountain route, which I’ve described in a recent post. The other was to stay at the albergue parroquial (a pilgrim hostel owned by the Diocese of Pamplona) associated with the little convent and church of San Esteban at Zabaldika.
Albergue at San Esteban
My first Camino had been in springtime nine years earlier. It was too early in the season for the albergue to be open but a hospitable nun, dressed in normal clothes, welcomed me and a fellow pilgrim into the lovely little 13th-century Romanesque church. She invited us to climb the narrow spiral stone staircase in the belfry tower and ring the 14th Century bell, believed to be the oldest in Navarre, to express whatever emotion might be meaningful to each of us. Then, after leaving a donation, we had to be on our way to find accommodation for the night on the outskirts of Pamplona.
This time I knew the albergue would be open, although there was no guarantee of getting a bed. The Camino is becoming increasingly popular and crowded, and the albergue can accommodate only 18 people. Nonetheless, most just walk past because it looks to be up a steep little rocky path, will not accept reservations, and accommodates only pilgrims travelling on foot on a first come first served basis. Besides, the historic city of Pamplona, with all its convenient facilities and points of interest, is only another hour-and-a-half walk beyond.
A Mellow Interlude
Happily, I was the first to arrive. The albergue wasn’t open yet but after a very hot walk I was most grateful to remove my pack, explore the church, ring the bell again, and then relax in the shady garden. At one point a nun emerged onto her balcony and called down cheerily to ask where I was from. That evening we would joke about recreating a scene from “Romeo and Juliet”.
Gradually other pilgrims arrived: a lovely young American couple, two convivial Spaniards and a quiet Dane. Once the doors opened we registered and had our pilgrim credencials stamped, enjoyed refreshing showers, rested, and in the evening were treated to a fine dinner by two volunteer hospitaleros from the Federation of Camino de Santiago Associations.
After dinner we all adjourned to the church, climbing the ancient staircase to the balcony overlooking the lovingly maintained interior with its elaborate 17th-century altarpiece. Three resident Sisters of the Sacred Heart joined us and together we shared a meditative time, beginning with a little song in Spanish and English after which I was invited to read a passage of scripture (in English) which my “Juliet” translated into Spanish. After that we shared our names, where we were from and our thoughts on walking the Camino, accompanied by a few teary eyes and lumps in throats.
Later that evening I felt overwhelmed with gratitude, and realized that this should be the symbolic end to this particular pilgrimage, rather than the cathedral at Pamplona as I’d intended. Of course I still had another day’s walk ahead, but instead of being the last steps toward a final destination I would think of them as the first contemplative steps on the journey home. I would remember the whole experience as my “Camino San Esteban” in which this little church would be just as meaningful and memorable a destination as the great cathedral at Santiago de Compostela to those walking there.
Knowing When to Stop
That got me thinking about the more all-embracing principle of knowing when in life to stop. On an earlier Camino, standing at “Kilometre Zero” at Finisterre after walking the Camino Portugués with my best friend, I realized that even if I were never again able to walk another Camino I could rest content. The following year, after completing our memorable trek in Nepal, I recognized that for physical reasons it would probably have to be my last challenging high-altitude expedition, but was content to close that chapter of life on a high note. As actor Clint Eastwood once said, “You always want to quit while you are ahead. You don’t want to be like a fighter who stays too long in the ring until you’re not performing at your best.”
The value of knowing when to quit is not to avoid embarrassment or to protect the ego, but to savour unspoiled memories while moving on to new and equally satisfying endeavours. In addition, sometimes there comes a point when we have a responsibility to turn the watch over to a fresh generation with their fresh ideas, and then be supportive but get out of their way. As author and poet Carolyn Wells once put it, “One of the first principles of perseverance is to know when to stop persevering.”
