{"id":22789,"date":"2026-06-13T14:21:17","date_gmt":"2026-06-13T21:21:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.thomryng.com\/camino\/?p=22789"},"modified":"2026-06-14T12:41:31","modified_gmt":"2026-06-14T19:41:31","slug":"via-lemovicensis-the-cross-of-iron","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.thomryng.com\/camino\/via-lemovicensis-the-cross-of-iron\/","title":{"rendered":"Via Lemovicensis: the Cross of Iron\u00a0"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Y<\/span>esterday I joined the monks of Rabanal in chanting Vespers for the Solemnity of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus. This was in Latin in Gregorian chant, but using the modern Liturgy of the Hours with just a few additions in the monastic tradition. It was absolutely sublime. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Compline followed after dinner. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This morning, breakfast was at 6:30, and I was third in line. I was out the door by 7 AM. Today’s stage would be long and physically challenging, as I went over the pass in the Irago Mountains. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The weather was temperate, and the skies were mostly clear. The way out of Rabanal is a wide concrete and gravel road through the trees. After an old stone fountain, the road becomes dirt and stone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Through clearings to the left, I could see the wooded valley spread out below.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It wasn’t long before I began climbing to the pass. At one point, there were even stairs. The vegetation became alpine and scrubby, and I swear I could feel the temperature drop as I walked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even so, there wasn’t much further “up” to go here. We are coming off the Meseta, which is already a plateau, and we have been climbing slowly since Astorga.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No, the problem would be later when I came down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One year ago today, Francine began having seizures. She certainly may have had them before, but we did not see them or did not recognize them. She also showed signs of being in intense pain, basically for the first time during her illness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The hospice nurse in consultation with the family adjusted Francine’s medications.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was never conscious again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At about 7:20 this morning, I crossed 1700 km in this pilgrimage, this Camino that Francine so very much wanted to walk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I walk this way for her, carrying her in grief and sorrow, but also ultimately in hope.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The stairs brought me across a roadway to a rough stone path bounded by a pine forest to my right and scrub to my left. Somewhere beyond the scrub lay the road which shared the pass with the Camino path.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At breakfast this morning, someone asked me why I decided to start walking in V\u00e9zelay. I gave him the same answer I’ve given everyone who asked me on this Camino, “sometime, we will share a beer or a bottle of wine and I will tell you”.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But then, I added something I’ve never said before. “It is a tale of true love, and suffering, and death.” I’m not sure what prompted me to say that, but it is the deep truth. It is, perhaps, an echo of the deepest truth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hope someday to be a witness to the resurrection. Just as I was pondering these thoughts, I saw a little piece of graffiti on a stone in the path that said, “follow your heart”. Just so.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Camino path became rockier and more uneven as it climbed. There were places where I was climbing bare rock, what Francine used to call “climbing the dragon’s spine”.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The trees thinned out as I continued to climb, and the road was now far in the valley below. Just after 8 AM, through a break in the vegetation, I could see the village of Foncebad\u00f3n ahead, where the road and the Camino path met again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ten years ago when Francine and I passed through Foncebad\u00f3n, it was effectively a series of ruins with a rough dirt path going through. When I stayed there three years ago, the village had been entirely transformed: rebuilt, repopulated, and anchored by a paved street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By 8:15 this morning, it was my stop for second breakfast, a large and leisurely breakfast. As I was finishing up my coffee, Katie arrived.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We had a short conversation, and she continued on while I finished up. I took off my fleece, and I continued the rough path up to the pass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I perhaps tarried over my breakfast too long. A tour bus full of approximately fifty teenagers with their chaperones arrived as I was leaving. Soon, this noisy crowd was hot on my heels.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Last year, Francine’s illness made the Easter season into a kind of second Lent for me, even a kind of passion and a death. An echo and a rhyme. This year’s Easter season began as a sort of purgatory, but it has become so much more, so much richer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’m struggling to put it into words. I believe I understand a little now about how to carry her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Of course throughout this all, I have never carried her alone. And I never will.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We are called, each of us, to the imitation of Christ. “Take up your cross and follow me.” For many of us, this will include our own personal via crucis<\/em>, our own passion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And we will, each of us, die. But this is not the end.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They say that Cruz de Ferro \u2013 the cross of iron \u2013 is the highest point on the Camino in Spain. While that’s not exactly true, it’s close enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Somewhere around 9:30 AM, I arrived at Cruz de Ferro. I had passed Katie on the way, but she arrived a few minutes after me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I climbed the hill of stones, and I pinned Francine’s card to the cross. I placed the stone for my sister, and then I placed the stone from Saint Patrick.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then, as the fifty or so teens arrived with their matching backpacks, I stood on the mound and prayed, chanting for my deliverance and for the souls of the faithful departed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stumbled off the hill of stones and broke down in tears. Katie hugged me for support as we both cried.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After this, the large group walked up to the hill for a photo opportunity. For whatever reason, they asked me to take the photo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Afterwards, I sort of stumbled down the Camino.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had the sudden thought that this may very well be the culmination of my Camino, with everything else as denouement. And then I saw another piece of graffiti on a directional sign that said, “to your deepest experience”.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Katie caught up with me somewhere before Manjarin. This isn’t a village or even a hamlet, it’s one building and a set of ruins. There used to be quite a famous character who lived here \u2013 Tom\u00e1s called himself a descendant of the Templars. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

After roadwalking a bit, it was back to the stony path. We walked along the top of the ridge for a long time, before the narrow trail began descending into the forest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This began a pattern of dipping into the forest, and then back up onto the ridge that continued for several kilometers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At about 10:50, we began our sustained rocky descent from the pass. We could see towns and villages in the valley ahead of us, tiny and far away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The long descent was steep, rocky, and unpredictable, even dangerous, if you weren’t careful. This is a section of the trail Francine called the “goat scramble”.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We arrived, exhausted and triumphant, at the quaint and beautiful village of El Acebo at 11:40. I stopped in the second bar for a slice of pistachio cheesecake and a Kas Lim\u00f3n to celebrate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Katie left ahead of me, but I was out of there by noon. Though there was a lovely breeze, the sun was beating down, and I was confident the umbrella would be up before too long.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On my way out of the village, I stopped to pray in a little 12th-century church of Saint Michael. Although access to the church is limited to a small narthex with a glass wall, it’s still possible to take in the amazing Baroque retablo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I roadwalked a short distance out of the village, and then the Camino struck out on a dirt path once again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was now in a broad valley ringed by mountains. The region is called El Bierzo, and it has its own unique culture, cuisine, and wine. I will be walking through here throughout the next two days. But for now, there’s still a bit of downhill to go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The path widened out into a dirt road with occasional stony sections. It went through rolling hills and was hemmed in by scrub and trees. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Soon, the descent began. Sections of this were crazy steep, but it wasn’t nearly as rocky as the goat scramble.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The umbrella went up at about 12:35. Ten minutes later I passed through the hillside village of Riego de Ambr\u00f3s. I visited the humble little Ermita de San Sebasti\u00e1n, and I was moved to pray and to light a candle for Francine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Camino left the village on a difficult, rocky descent. I remember in a past Camino slipping on this in the rain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the bottom, I found myself on a cool forest trail, mobbed by butterflies of orange and white and black. I soon left both the trees and the butterflies behind, as I walked a dusty trail with scrub bushes and small trees to either side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At about 1:15, the path ended, and I found myself briefly roadwalking on asphalt until the Camino turned up a dirt road back into the scrub. A pair of pilgrims ahead of me elected to avoid it altogether and to stay on the road.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The descent began again, rocky but not too steep, then steep but not too rocky, and then neither, and then both.  Goat scramble redux. Parts of it were even under tree cover.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At about 1:40, I finally spotted the town of Molinaseca in the valley below.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The descent continued, rocky and difficult. The heat radiating up from the stones was oppressive. At one point, I even had to go uphill to get to a slightly different downhill.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At just before 2 PM, the Camino descended and merged into the road and into the town of Molinaseca. The church in the upper town was locked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Camino took me through the town to a reconstructed stone Roman bridge over the river. I was at this point looking for a cool refreshing drink. The church in the lower town tolled 2 PM.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My tracker said I had walked 27 km so far today, and the book said I had another 7.5 km to go. For the moment, though, I was content with Coca-Cola and tapas in the shade.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While I enjoyed my repast, I watched a taxi disgorge three well-to-do looking Americans with day packs, complaining about being tired. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Molinaseca is an almost absurdly charming town. I was extremely tempted to call it a day here. Nevertheless, at 2:30 I put my pack back on, clipped on the umbrella, and started walking again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I walked on a sidewalk next to a highway. To either side were apartment buildings, large houses, even a school. There were many new looking housing developments.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By 2:50, I had passed the last of the buildings, and either side of the highway was now undeveloped scrub and forest land. The sidewalk continued. Sweat seemed to pour off of me faster than I could drink water. Even though I had topped off my bottles in Molinaseca, I was going through that pretty quick.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ten minutes later, I came to a fork in the Camino. At this point, I had always taken the left way through the countryside, but this time I chose the right along the road. This way is a little less scenic, though there was still an amazing view of the mountains. But it was also marginally shorter and would allow me to continue power walking on the sidewalk. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was pleased to find that the alternate was well marked with the traditional painted yellow arrows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Soon, I was walking through a suburban neighborhood populated mostly with extremely large houses with locking gates. The way was sloping gently downhill, and there was a lovely breeze cooling the air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Right about 3:15, I crossed over the R\u00edo Boeza. It was a very long bridge, as it included the flood plain as well as the actual river. I now left the mansions behind for an undeveloped area next to the river and bodegas and light industrial buildings across the highway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Within ten minutes, there were buildings on both sides of the road. At this point, I passed a large sign welcoming me to the city of Ponferrada. Confusingly, this was followed by a tract of undeveloped land.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eventually, I found myself walking through a neighborhood with high density housing. The highway had become an avenue. The Camino slowly made its way in to the older section of the city.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I arrived at the Templar Castle at about 3:45. This is one of the more impressive structures on the Camino in Spain. The gatehouse in particular looks almost like a fantasy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My priority now was to find someplace to sleep. I’ve had trouble with this in the city before. Amazingly, there was one bed left at the first place I checked, less than 100 m from the city center.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After the usual pilgrim chores, I went to visit the Bas\u00edlica Nuestra Se\u00f1ora de la Encina. According to local tradition, the statue of the Virgin currently ensconced in the retablo was hidden during the Moorish invasions and later rediscovered inside a holm oak (encina<\/em>) tree by the Knights Templar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Certainly, the statue is very old and incredibly affecting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The 17th century Basilica itself is a little odd, though pleasing, in its architectural aspects. I think it wants to be Gothic, but it doesn’t quite get there. The Baroque retablos, though, are magnificent, particularly the one at the high altar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I was praying here, a thunderstorm began outside. This was not great news, as I had an appointment to meet some pilgrim friends later for dinner at the only Mexican restaurant in the whole region, “El King Kong”.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It’s fine; I got a little wet (and the food was unexpectedly fantastic). But hopefully the rain won’t continue. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Date:<\/strong> 13 June 2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n