Churches on the Camino

Los Arcos to Torres del Río, 8k

When I set up my itinerary I wanted to be sure to have plenty of time to see several churches: Eunate, Los Arcos, and Santo Sepulcro in Torres del Rio.

Back in 2013, I walked through Torres del Rio in a hurry and had popped my head into this mysterious church. Like Eunate, its purpose was unknown; it wasn’t a parish church, and had ties to the Knights Templar,

This time I wanted more time to soak in its aura. Which led to the decision to stay over in Torres del Rio even if it was just 8k from Los Arcos.

Santo Sepulcro in Los Arcos

I made a reservation at Hostal San Andres on Booking.com, but I kept going back and forth whether to change my plans since it meant I’d burn a day and would need to jump ahead by a bus or taxi later on to get to Burgos on May 28.

I ended up keeping the reservation and not rearranging everything. I walked leisurely out of Los Arcos. I got to Sansol in about two hours. Torres del Rio is downhill right next to Sansol; somehow they’ve remained two villages.

Hostal San Andres was a hotel and albergue combined, and had a restaurant/bar. It even had a pool, but it was under maintenance. I my snarkier moments, I thought of these places as part of the “Pilgrim Industrial Complex.” It was a thriving business on the Camino. I hung out on the patio blogging until it was time to check-in. The church wasn’t open until four so I had a lot of time.

I talked to two women from SoCal and Idaho, who were walking when they wanted and taxiing otherwise. There now seem to be more pilgrims like them, and me, who have walked before and have a different focus than getting to Santiago.

Once I’d checked into my room, I walked around the town, which had several albergues. One was right across from the Santo Sepulcro and had a Knights Templar theme. In fact, they had some official connection to them, or so they said on a plaque out front.

Albergue in Torres del Río with Franciscan Tau, Goose foot, and Knights Templar cross
over the door

I felt I’d entered a time warp walking into their courtyard. Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon” was blaring from the speakers. It took me back to high school.

It worth noting that Pata de Oca means goose foot, so this albergue was named for the sign of the goose foot in the Game of the Goose legend.

At 4:15 I arrived at the door of the Suplico but no one had unlocked it yet. I chatted with a nice woman about my age from Berlin who was also interested in the site. She had never traveled alone and was really enjoying the freedom, and the art along the Camino. Finally, she called the phone number on the door and got ahold of the person with the key. She was on her way.

I’d seen this lady earlier sitting on the patio drinking coffee with her friends. She probably grew up in the village and this ancient site had been a part of her world for as long as she could remember. She collected a euro from each of us and opened the door.

It was cool inside and silent.

It was as I remembered it, serene and elegant in its simplicity. The 13th century crucifix seemed to float above the altar.

The ceiling had ribs that converged to make an eight-pointed star, like at Eunate. There was just a handful of carved figures that were a bit enigmatic.

Also like Eunate, light came in through small alabaster windows, and the light was was pure and cool. A bench ran around the perimeter of the octagonal space. I sat for a long time taking it all in. The German woman sat there, too.

At 5:00 the local lady said there was mass being celebrated at the parish church at the top of the hill. We both headed up the hill and got there just in time for mass to begin. It seemed like the best kind of progression after soaking in the tranquil spirituality of the Sepulcro.

Mari, the German woman took communion, and I did not. It feels like the right thing to do this time around, though I did take communion on my prior Caminos.

After doing the usual shower and reshuffling of my belongings, it was almost time for the pilgrims dinner at the hotel/albergue. It was quite organized, everyone had an ticket. Pilgrims were hungry at 6;00 and dinner was at 7:00. There was a lot of milling about and grumbling, especially when they announced dinner would now be at 7:25.

I sat with a Swedish woman and we had a great conversation. She also had three children though they were a lot younger. It was her first Camino and she was going all the way to Santiago. She was impressed with the efficiency of the waiters, and how they cleared the plates when each person was done. In Sweden everyone waits for the last person to finish before clearing the table. We talked a little about American politics and I explained (at her request) about the three branches of government, and what checks and balances were and how they weren’t checking and balancing right now.

Dinner was good, salad and salmon, with red wine, plus dessert.

She introduced me to a woman from Santa Barbara who, like me, had also gone to UCSB , but four years later. Small world.

It was one of those communal pilgrim gatherings I’ve delays enjoyed. This time I was out of synch with people and hadn’t walked with them for the last week. They had become a kind of fellowship from starting at St. Jean at the same time. But that was ok.

Even though I’d only walked 8k, I was tired and was glad to go up to my little modern room to read, and rearrange things one more time.

I guess I was so tired that I forgot to register and pay for the transfer of my bag the next day online, but I didn’t notice that until the morning.

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Church in Los Arcos

Finally, Siesta was over and the heavy church doors opened. I walked into the dark space and smiled.

Breathtaking. As stunning as I remembered it. I’ve been to so many churches in Spain, and elsewhere—and the Romanesque to Gothic are my favorites—but this Baroque church holds a special place in my heart. I stood in the back for a few minutes and took it all in.

Iglesia de Santa Maria in los Arcos

Why is it so impressive?

There’s the dome with the spirals that look like labyrinths swirling high above.

Guidebook author, Beene Bahrami, says these swirls “aren’t simply decorative; they also express the dynamic energy that locals feel in this place.” I concur, there’s some sort of positive flow going on there.

Virgen del Los Arcos

Now that I know more about the Black Madonnas, it was exciting to see this one again. I don’t think I really noticed her 12 years ago; she was one of the many figures on the retablo. Having seen the Virgens in Pamplona, and Estella, I could put this one in context.

The organ!

Organ at Santa Maria de Los Arcos
Notice faces on the organ pipes and the hands on the music stands
View from the choir
Stairs to the choir
Lion guarding the stairs

When I came downstairs from the choir and started circulating around the church with my head cocked back, a local lady came up to me and began an impromptu history tour in Spanish! Instead of saying “lo siento, no comprendo,” I listened as hard as I could, and asked some questions in Spanish, which she answered, and kept going in rapid fire Spanish. I wondered if I was downloading Spanish comprehension somehow, because I could understand quite a bit of what she said.

She was as much a lover of the church as so was and I totally enjoyed the tour. At the end, I asked if I could take her photo and she agreed.

The docent who gave me the full tour
Virgen del Los Arcos

“Hay gótico,” she said with emphasis. She is gothic from the 14th century, and is fine wood, with almond eyes. She was cleaned years ago so no longer has the Black Madonna look.

“Like the Virgen in Monserrat?” I asked? “No, she is Moreno,” At least that’s what I can remember her saying and could translate.

After feasting my eyes and sitting in the space awhile longer, it was time to find some dinner on the square. It was worth the whole trip to Spain to see the church in Los Arcos again.

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To Los Arcos, 12.2k

Morning light

I packed up everything in my cozy attic room in Oasis Trails and went downstairs to partake of the bag breakfast (it’s a thing here in albergues because people leave early in the morning). It had an orange, a fresh little baguette, muffin, a granola type bar. Not much I really wanted to eat. The best thing was Nescafé instant coffee, which is surprisingly good sometimes. Especially when there’s no alternative.

There were a couple of others in the small low-ceilinged downstairs room. Carol, a Brit who runs Camino Confidence, a Camino guide service for women,was getting ready too. Turns out that knows Nancy Reynolds. One of her clients had an injury so she was going to walk slowly to the bus stop with her a kilometer or so away. Soon they took off.

The guy I’d talked to yesterday ducked through the room since he’s very tall. “Hey San Francisco!“ I waved, “Buen Camino,” and let him get ahead of me.

Leaving Oasis Trails

The walk started out with a lot of ups and downs, and paralleled the motorway. Up in the distance I could see Carol walking slowly with her client then peeling off the Camino to the village across the valley where the bus stopped.

A runner came up beside me and stopped. She was one of the Oasis Trails staff from last night. We chatted and I thanked her for the prayerful time after dinner. She said, “I saw you just now and thought I need to tell her that God loves her, and is with her always by the Way.” I thanked her and she ran off ahead. How cool to have the Camino as your local running route. I appreciated her comment, too. It was authentic and from the heart.

A couple passed me while I ate my orange by the side of the path, and stopped to chat. They were dentists from Fullerton. She had the identical pack that I carried on my other Caminos in my favorite raspberry color. Mine disintegrated in the closet, the straps just broke off. Osprey couldn’t fix it and I was so disappointed. They sent me a new one in black. Maybe more classic but I miss the raspberry. I wondered why hers, which was the same age, hadn’t fallen apart. That isn’t very interesting to anyone else I’m sure!

Fellow peregrina with same raspberry colored Osprey pack as my old one

They walked on and I followed, eventually seeing them again at a food truck set up under a grove of trees.

Food truck doing good business in an idyllic spot

That was a lovely spot. I’ve been sketching intermittently, and this was one of the places I took out my watercolor sketchbook and pen to play around. I’m new to sketching and I’m giving myself permission to just have fun with it. Later on I’ve been adding watercolor to the sketches. I like how it makes me be in the moment.

Staffing the food truck was a young woman I also recognized from Oasis Trails the night before. She recognized me too, and that was fun. There was a small Dutch evangelical ex-pat community connected to the Albergue, and they’re renovating a building in another village into a new albergue.

After the food truck, the path entered a mesmerizing, scenic phase. It was basically flat, too. Saturated green wheat, red, red poppies, a sprinkling of other wildflowers, and the Camino cut a yellow path through the glory.

Off to the right (North, I think) was a line of rugged peaks. The view kept changing as I walked, and new serrated ridges came into view. Are those the Picos de Europa? Not sure. I hope we can drive in that direction when Hale arrives and explore.

Those peaks! Those flowers!

Those olive trees!

And the edges of Los Arcos came into view.

City limits of Los Arcos
A cacophony of roosters greeted me!

On the way into town there were plaques that explained more about the costs of arms in the houses along the way.

Zenzano coats of arms

There were lots of these along the Camino route into town.

Santa Maria in Los Arcos

Then there was Iglesia de Santa Maria and that triangular square I remembered. Notice the fencing on the left. They were setting up for their running of the bulls event in June.

I walked into the square and saw several people I recognized, including the Fullerton dentist with the raspberry pack and her husband, and we all greeted each other. I went to check in at my Pension. They had all moved on when I returned, but the square was filling up with the next crop of pilgrims.

I did the usual shower, rest, and shuffle my belongings around before the main event for me in Los Arcos: visiting the Iglesia de Santa Maria that evening.

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