Via Lemovicensis: True Pilgrims 

While I was definitely feeling better this morning, out of an abundance of caution I elected not to walk with my backpack today. I’ve never used a baggage forwarding service on Camino before, but Herve took the lead, and the kind lady working the breakfast counter at the albergue walked us through it and assured us that everything would be OK.

Breakfast wasn’t until 7 AM, and what with the rigamarole about getting the bag transported, we didn’t leave until after 8 AM. Fortunately, today was meant to be an extremely short day, just 18 km.

Meanwhile, ibuprofen.

We joined a long line of pilgrims walking out of the village over the Río Esla. The bridge is quite long, as it spans the entire length of a flood plain around the river. From here we could look back and see what remained of the town’s medieval wall.

After the bridge, it was back to the gravel roadside path. A profusion of poppies and wildflowers separated us from cornfields to our left. These were soon replaced by an irrigation channel and a long line of trees. The skies were overcast, and the air was cool.

It suddenly occurred to me that all of my rain gear was in my backpack.

I felt a bit of a fraud walking without a pack. It’s silly, of course. I have long said that being injured or disabled is a perfectly good reason for using baggage transfer. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling.

The path was unchanging until about 9 AM, when we entered the village/suburb of Villamoros de Mansilla. Now the Camino went on a sidewalk beside the N 601 highway. 

We elected to take a slightly more roundabout alternative route through the village. 

Based on the old painted arrows in the village, this might have been the original Camino route. Certainly, there was a locked church on the route and a bar with café con leche. And incredibly comfy chairs. They kept my back at exactly the right angle to relieve the pressure. 

I was basically fine if I kept my back straight, but as soon as I slouched in a certain way, I got a spasm in my lower back. Ironically, the pack yesterday forced my back into the correct position, and without it I was actually walking slower and more gingerly.

By 9:40, we were back on the gravel path beside the highway. At one point, we briefly diverted to a frontage road, which included giant piles of dirt and stones for fun.

Then it was through the woods and over the river on a modern bridge in sight of a much older medieval bridge now reserved for vehicles. 

At the end of the bridge, we were in the suburb of Villarente. It was strictly urban walking, now, on sidewalks past shops and apartments.

I found it interesting to note the attitudes of the pilgrims we passed. Without a backpack, I no longer registered with most of them as a pilgrim. They would wish Herve a buen Camino, and then just walk right past me without a word.

The way out of town was a broad white gravel road through fields and Meadows, though we could see major roads just a couple of hundred meters on either side of us.

On the other hand, I saw cows in the meadow. I can’t remember the last time I saw that. It was along this stretch at about 10:25 that we finally took off our fleeces.

About ten minutes later as we crossed a major road, there was a cluster of industrial buildings. And ten minutes after that, we passed under the highway. Now we could see housing developments ahead of us across the field.

The sky had slowly been clearing all morning and was now blue with big white fluffy clouds.

About 10:50, we entered the suburb of Arcahueja. Now there were multi-story houses and apartments on both sides of us. Soon enough, though, we were back on a gravel road through fields. To the left, there was another little suburban knot of buildings.

At about 11:15, the Camino turned onto an asphalt road through industrial district of the suburb of Valdelafuente and into a more residential neighborhood with apartment blocks and houses.

As we left the village, we were once more on a sidewalk beside the highway. The Camino crossed the highway (sans a marked crossing) and wandered through some parking lots before returning to a sort of gravel road beside the highway. The highway was now lined with car lots and mechanics.

And then it was more parking lots and sidewalks. This is the distinctly non-glamorous part of the Camino you rarely hear about.

We had to walk along the shoulder of a roundabout past the Spanish equivalent of Home Depot. It looks like they’re building an actual sidewalk here, so maybe next year’s pilgrims will have a safer walk through here.

Then there was the road construction zone. 

By 11:45, we were walking on a gravel path on a cliff side above the highway. We could see the great city laid out before us. Slowly the path descended towards the city.

There is a tendency on the part of some pilgrims – particularly first time pilgrims – to denegrate those not carrying a proper backpack. These peregrinos often refer to those folks as “turogrinos” – tourists pretending to be pilgrims.

I confess that in my early Caminos I, too, was guilty of this.

There are endless discussions about who qualifies as a “true pilgrim”. Do you have to carry your pack? Can you walk the minimum hundred kilometers and qualify? Must you wash your laundry by hand every day?

I sometimes joke that you are only a true pilgrim once you’ve had to dry your laundry outside your pack as you walked. But this is a joke.

I think the true pilgrim is anyone who allows themselves to be transformed by their pilgrimage, regardless of where they start or what they carry.

Two such pilgrims, Herve and I, crossed a long bridge over a highway interchange and into the great city of León at just before noon.

I confess I booked a hotel here. I need a real bed for my back for at least one night. Since check-in wasn’t until 3 PM, we took our time.

We crossed the Rio Torio on a modern pedestrian bridge. Once again, the automobile bridge near us was medieval in origin.

We passed an awful lot of new housing construction on our way into the city. Spain, it seems, is enjoying explosive growth.

We popped into the little parish church of Santa Ana. How old it is, I couldn’t say, but it is clearly undergone along series of renovations and restorations over the course of the last two or three hundred years, not all of them to the good. The statue of Saint Ann and the Virgin in the high altar, though, is truly a work of art.

It was 1:25 by the time we walked through the ancient Roman walls into the heart of the old city.

Calle Ancha, the main street of the old town, was completely torn up by construction crews putting in new pavement. We found a likely place and settled in for a late lunch. 

We found the hotel with little trouble – it’s practically next to the cathedral – and my backpack was there. After a shower and a nap, I felt nearly human. Time to explore the city!

The avenue on which hotel sits follows on the outside of one of the old city walls. The old towers are incorporated into the apartment buildings that line the street.

After entering through one of the medieval gates and threading my way through streets named after saints and cardinals, I came at last to the Gothic wonder of León Cathedral. 

Finished in an astonishingly brief fifty years, it’s design and construction was supervised by a father and son team. This gives it a certain harmony of form and style rarely seen in medieval cathedrals, where the design might evolve over centuries of construction. 

The stained glass windows, on the other hand, took almost four centuries to complete. 

While there are some of the usual sorts of Baroque additions one finds in Spain¹, the fabric and structure of the Gothic cathedral remains largely intact. Even the retablo in the sanctuary is the Gothic original, with the addition of a much later statue depicting the Assumption.

The Cathedral is smaller than one might expect for such an important capital city, and there are fewer chapels then you might find even in some of the larger churches. But what it lacks in space it more than makes up for in light. The windows are the absolute focal point of this place, and they are magnificent.

With just a few exceptions, they are not painted, but instead the colors are infused in the glass itself. All of the windows are the originals. During the Spanish Civil War, the window panels were painstakingly removed one by one and stored in the crypt for safety.

As I walked through the ambulatory, I was particularly drawn to the chapel of La Virgen de la Esperanza, which features a 13th-century statue of the pregnant Virgin. It was polychromed several centuries later, and whoever carried out that work was a true master of the art.

Throughout medieval art we see countless images of Virgin and Child, but I don’t recall seeing an image like this before – Virgin with Child². It brings home the reality of the Incarnation in an unexpected and moving way.

I prayed in front of this little chapel, and I left one of Francine’s cards here.

Herve, Katie, and I had some seriously tasty Spanish burgers for dinner and then met up with literally dozens of other pilgrims at a place called Molly Malone’s. Because there’s nothing quite like an Irish bar in Spain. 

This evening my back feels much better, though it’s still sore. After discussing various options, we’ve decided to offload a few kilos from my backpack to Herve’s rather than try to ship part or all of my bag, mostly because we’re not sure how far we’ll make it tomorrow. 

Date: 09 June 2026

Place: León 

Today started: Mansilla de las Mulas 

Today’s Photos!

1. Particularly in the choir and some of the chapel altars.
2. Except in the context of the Visitation, of course.