Gonna Lay Down My Burden – Camino Day 29 (Iron Cross)
At the start of the Camino, Sarah told me to pick up a rock that I would later lay down at the famous Cruz de Ferro. Choosing (as always) to walk in ignorance, this is the first of only three things I knew to look forward to on the entire 800 km pilgrimage (the others being a famous octopus lunch and arriving at the end).
Compared to the over-splendorous churches and monuments we’ve visited, the Iron Cross is extremely simple - a wooden pole with an iron cross mounted on top. What makes it special is that every pilgrim carries a small stone - from home or the beginning the camino - to add to the pile at the bottom that anchors the pole. Supposedly this washes you of your past sins and transgressions, though nowadays it’s more an intentional leaving all your burdens behind. Since this started in the 11th century, the pile has grown into a sizable hill, and at least twice the pole has had to be extended higher to stay above the pile.
After night #1 of tossy-turny sheet-soaking-sweaty fever (which will stay with me on and off for the rest of the camino), I’m happy to be outside in the pre-dawn mist/rain, and even gratefuller than his mama to get to push Gerhard in his trailer all the way to the highest spot on the whole Caminio. Fresh air, sideways rain/mist, darkness, and getting to sing and tell stories to a tired 4-year-old are mind and soul cleansing. I’m so in the moment I almost walk right past the Iron Cross, and feel a bit underwhelmed at first.
Then I start to watch people. I continue to engage Gerhard to allow mama and grandma some private sharing and hugging time at the top of the rock pile then softly add their stones to the pile. I see other exuberant peak-conquering pilgrims suddenly stop and grow silent, absorbing the sacred energy and power built by the millions of us pilgrims who have consecrated this ground over centuries.
I don’t know the hurts or hopes or memories that this thin slice of today’s pilgrims are releasing with their stones. Of the hundreds I have met, driving forces have included (in rough order of frequency): just graduated, quit or lost a job and/or want to find a new career path, retired, divorced or should divorce, trying to get closer to God, honouring a deceased loved one, fighting or overcame illness, trying to lose weight or regain physical power, trying to find a way to live with less stress and more meaning. I wonder how many of the rocks further down the 1,000 year-old pile have carried those themes of career, love, spirituality, healing, and living meaningfully?
Sarah’s been having her private experience up there, and now I scramble up the rock pile to join her. She doesn’t need to tell me and I don’t ask - we just hold each other.
After carrying my rock for 565 km, I find I’m neither wanting nor needing to release it here. I’m on this pilgrimage feeling strong, clear, and healthy (except last night’s fever). Enjoying the adventure and sinking into the rhythm and community, learning and discovering but not actively hurting or recovering or seeking. After respectfully contributing an acorn, I return the rock to my jacket pocket where I periodically stroke the smooth flattened surfaces and rounded top, appropriately balanced by a rough ridged bottom. I may not believe in ritual and symbolism in a literal enough way to sacrifice my rock, but I do believe enough in the power of this altar - built upon the pain and longing of centuries of fellow voyagers - to leave an offering. And I feel the comforting and meditative powers of a simple stone with the same smooth and rough edges as me.
There’s no bible-cover sunrise today at what some say is the most inspiring vista of the camino. Our experience, just like crossing over the Pyrenees on day two, is meant to be mystically shrouded in mist/sleet, somber, and cold. We walk another 5 km back down the other side in reflective silence until camping out fireside at an open-air oasis of a coffee shop, grateful for heat and hot chocolate and chairs and reemergence into community as more of our camino family drift in to join us. We have earned the right to collapse and resurrect strength for the remaining 220km, a little lighter from whatever we each released back at the Cruz de Ferro.
Playing with Gerhard and being shrouded in holy history has kept me strong, but by lunchtime I’m head down on the table and agreeing to taxi the final 10km. I’m disappointed because I really wanted to tackle the infamous steep descent into Mollinesca. But no real feeling of “cheating” - this is “my” camino and this is what’s being demanded of me right now - the willingness to do what my body needs instead of what I want or am expected to do. And we’ll easily make up the lost mileage in the “beauty cut” alternative routes I’ll write about soon.
I still don't know that I've conveyed, or perhaps even fully registered, the deep meaning this place has. The pile is about 8 metres (26 feet) tall and 15 metres (50 feet) in diameter, all carried hundreds of km and released here by over 1,000 years of pilgrims. Every one of these offerings has a story, a dream, a hurt, a hope. Here are just a few sketches I recorded about what people may be carrying and trying to let go of:
Colin is softening. He likes us because we understand his Aussie humour and get his self-declared quest to be more tolerant of other people and annoyances. We check in daily on the new trials and tribulations that test his commitment - snorers, Europeans, rain. This may be “The Way of St. James,” but he’s more on a Journey of Job.
Ilka from Norway has just divorced after 40 years, and her ex is not signing papers. She’s been having to deal with lawyers while walking the Camino, and trying to let go of her ex’s energy and truly focus on her own rebuilding journey.
Weibke from Germany is scared, small, unsure. Fragile as a frozen leaf. Sarah penetrates her brittle shell and tenderly asks “How would you want to feel?” This tall young woman freezes, goes deep inside, then comes back with a quivering “I want to feel like I’m good enough.” We tell her she’s beautiful but it’s too much for her to accept. “Maybe that’s your quest,” I suggest, “that by the end of the camino you’ll believe that.”
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Currently in...
Philadelphia
Heading to...
Costa Rica (Monteverde) till Christmas, then Thailand (Chiang Mai), Vietnam (Hoi Ann, Feb-Mar). Please share any sites, people or ideas by email.
Hi Rick (and Sarah), I’m enjoying reading your blogs, esp. the one about the Iron Cross, such a fascinating history. Thanks for sharing.
It’s a good thing they put it so near the end. At first I thought it was a quaint tradition, but after 565 km I understood it’s real weight (literally)