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 ArcosNotice faces on the organ pipes and the hands on the music standsView from the choirStairs to the choirLion 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.
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 ArcosA 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.
There was the place I stayed in 2013 with the ghost
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.
I loved my day hanging out in Los Arcos yesterday—experiencing the fabulous church, sitting at the cafe in the town square for lunch and later, dinner with pilgrim friends. Gina, Caroline and I stayed at a cute auberge, and splurged on the more private rooms. They shared,and I had my own room at the top. The ceiling has the original heavy wooden beams. When I went to bed at 10:00 or so, I heard what sounded like a married couple arguing in Spanish. I rolled over, wondered where it could be coming from, next door? How? The building was stone. It didn’t sound like an auberge encounter. The whole place was close for the night. I feel asleep. At about 3 I heard a woman crying out in Spanish and screaming! I was still half asleep, and wondered what the heck?? In the morning I commented to Gina and Caroline about it. Only Gina heard any of it. She thought it was on my floor above her. The Irish woman on my floor heard nothing. As we discussed it on the trail today I realized how strange it was.
The Aubergue was in a building that had to be 300 years old. Who had lived there in all that time? Certainly, many, many people with lives I would never know. Were the voices I heard echoes of another time, of energy held within those walls? I’ll never know. I do know that Spain has an ancient and passionate soul. The voices were not scary. I slept well and felt comfortable in the room. They were human and very real. It was yet another lesson in the mysterious quality of Spain.
The countryside is punctuated with ancient churches. Today my pilgrim buddy, Caroline and I bussed to Los Arcos from Estella, to give our bodies a break. (20 minutes to cover 22 kilometers vs. about 5 hours at my good pace. We walked into the church, which looked semi-impressive on the outside, and my jaw dropped. Overwhelmingly beautiful. Cloisters attached. Sometimes Spain just brings tears to my eyes. We’re going there for pilgrim Mass this evening, and another pilgrim blessing. There’s St. James again!
One Footestep at a Time 