On the road to Santiago: the Holy Grail

I stayed overnight in an old farmhouse that has been beautifully renovated in the village of Vega de Valcarce which lies in a narrow wooded valley at the foot of the Cantabrian mountains. I was thus able to start the climb immediately this morning. The climb involved a gain of 707m in altitude over 26 kilometres. The splendid Trucker knocked it off in two and quarter hours. I was most impressed.

The village of O Cebreiro sits atop the mountain range with wonderful views all around. Ancient Celtic houses called ‘pallozas’ are a feature of the village; they are round, made of grey slate, with a floor sunk into the ground, and a thatched roof. A small church with a loud bell and a hostel have stood here since 835 AD, the bell guiding pilgrims to shelter in the notoriously bad weather. Fog swirls around this village as much as legend.

O Cebreiro is best known for its association with the legend of the Holy Grail. A miracle is supposed to have occurred here in 1072 AD. In the middle of a raging storm a faithless monk was celebrating mass when a poor man from down the valley stumbled through the door, tired and bedraggled, to receive communion. Unaware of the man’s sacrifice, the monk said: “Who is this man who has come so far in such weather just for a meagre piece of bread?” At this moment the bread became quivering flesh and the wine thickened into hot blood.

The legend of the Holy Grail is that of the medieval knight, Parsifal, who went in search of the cup believed to have been used by Joseph of Arimathea to collect the blood of Jesus during the crucifixion. It not being found by 1072, the promoters of the pilgrimage seized the opportunity and pronounced the cup that produced this miracle as the Holy Grail. Smart thinking! The chalice and platen are now enshrined in a bullet-proof glass case in the little chapel.

The descent was much easier than the previous day’s. The road was beautifully surfaced with sweeping curves and a moderate gradient. I reached Samos early in the afternoon. A very small but charming village surrounds a massive and imposing monastery supporting just 11 monks, in the beautifully forested valley of the river Sarria.

A sign on the top of the range informed me that I am now in Galicia, the last province on this journey. Forested slopes, dappled light beneath the tree canopy, slate paths, little country chapels with a granite calvary alongside, stone grain stores, flower boxes, and the smell of eucalyptus – rural charm. The weather remains perfect: clear blue skies and warm temperatures.

Just two days to Santiago!

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