1th of September to 30th of October 2022.
Distance: 1789.8km. 60 days.
I have a sticky sensation on my back, and there is this wet squishy sound as I sit down on a chair. And the first thing that comes to my mind is, this is how it will be the next two months.
Inside the cathedral of Malaga.
When I stand up again, it is the same gurgling sound, the same clammy and sticking sensation of clothes attaching itself to my skin. I find myself in Junta de Los Caminos and it is the first day on the Camino Mozarabe. At the same time as another heatwave has turned up the temperatures in the southern Spain. Perhaps not the best time to embark upon a new journey, a walk that will take me across the Iberian Peninsula, from the coast of the sun to the coast of death.
View from the dry and arid mountains outside Malaga on the first day to Almogia.
Camino Mozarabe is regarded as the longest of the pilgrim paths to Santiago de Compostela. It comes with a choice of three cities to start the pilgrimage from, Almería, Malaga or Jaen. Almería is the farthest away from the tomb of St. James, from there it is about 1390 kilometres one must go if one wish to end the walk in front of the mighty cathedral in Santiago de Compostela. Of these I wanted to experience both the route from Almería and Malaga, so I have decided to walk both of them.
The wonderful Sierra del Torcal.
Of these two, Malaga is the easiest place to start the pilgrimage from, as it has an international airport close by (it will still be easy to get to Almería from Malaga however). Malaga is a pleasant surprise, when I hear the name Costa del Sol mentioned I immediate envision overcrowded beaches and resorts with tourists, but given all the tourists this city still has a very relaxed feeling about it. The hotel I sleep in has air-condition, it sounds like a helicopter, if I turns it off my sweat spores starts to work right away. Sleepless in Malaga.
Antequera, a pleasant surprise of a town.
If you have not got the pilgrim credential before you arrive at Malaga, the church of Santiago is the place to get it (not the cathedral). This is also the starting point of the long pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.
A common sight on the way towards Baena, the Camino Mozarabe passes by large areas of olive groves.
From Malaga the first part of my pilgrimage on the Camino Mozarabe goes to the town of Baena, which is where all the three different routes have joined and continues as one route from. The distance to Baena from Malaga is about 162 kilometres. Here the walk at first goes through a dry and barren mountain scenery before it changes to an undulating landscape dominated by olive groves. On the first day I walk to Almogia, a pleasant village where the houses are white, and the streets are labyrinthine.
The village of Alboloduy, on the Camino Mozarabe from Almería.
The days are long, and they are hot. I must always pay attention to carry with me enough water, as an opposite to the Camino Francés the distances between places to find food and drink are longer here, the same goes for accommodation. Albergues for pilgrims does not exist in all the places one is passing through; one must count on spending nights at more expensive options in between. Other pilgrims there are not many of, I do meet a couple of few others, but our walking patterns differ, and I seldom see them.
Cuevas de Guadix.
Of the five days that I use to walk to Baena, the highlights are the already mentioned barren and dry mountain landscape outside Malaga, the walk over the beautiful Sierra del Torcal and the ensuing discovery of a wonderful town I knew nothing of beforehand, Antequera. I walk with a view of the olive groves in soaring heat, while it is all quiet around me. Between Lucena and Doña Mencia the pilgrim path goes on the derelict railway line of Tren del Aceite, which was used to freight olive, with dry mountains towering above it. In the other end of the scale lies the last part of the walk into Lucena, an otherwise nice city, where you go through an extremely boring industrial area.
The Camino Mozarabe passes through the mountains of Sierra Nevada, but evades its highest peaks, here on the way towards Quentar.
After having taken the bus from Baena to Almería, the pilgrimage continues on what might almost be called a restart. From the city on the southeast coast of Spain there is about 200 kilometres towards Granada and the Alhambra. On its way the pilgrim path meanders around the mountain massif of Sierra Nevada. The pilgrims do not have to master the highest of its summits, but between the village of La Peza and Granada the route still reaches the heights of about 1400m.
View of Alhambra and Granada from Abadía del Sacromonte.
And it is definitely hot and dry, so hot that I for a long time feel that I am watering the otherwise dried out rivers the route makes use of. These sections of the Camino Mozarabe from Almería are easy to follow, but less exciting. I doubt that it was the river beds the pilgrims of old days used when they were making their pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. Where they even dried out during that time? A small highlight in this boring section was when a column of tanks was pounding past me on the first day out of Almería.
Alhambra in the evening.
The pilgrim association for this part of the Camino Mozarabe, Asociación Jacobea de Almería- Granada Camino Mozárabe, has made a smart move when it comes to getting access to the albergues. Instead of having to spend time locating a person that has access to the key, these are instead available through a key-box. To get the key you need to contact and acquire access to the code to the key-box (it will change every time they clean up the albergue).
Fortaleza de la Mota in Alcala la Real.
On the way to Granada, I experience the dry and desert-like landscape between Santa fe de Mondujar og Alhabia, the pleasant villages of Alboloduy and Abla, spends a night in a Hobbit cave in Guadix, get a taste of a tooth inflammation (and an ensuing week of penicillin cure) and unfortunately arrives a moment too late for a bullfight in Jerez de Marquesado. Experiencies, both good and bad. And I have got company in the afternoons and evenings.
In Alcaudete.
When walking into Granada I would recommend not to bypass the walk up to the Abadía del Sacromonte on the way, both for a visit to the abbey and the wonderful view of Granada and Alhambra. When entering a larger city on every Camino, the walk into them tends to be boring and slightly monotonous, going through bland suburbs and industrial areas. The walk into Granada differed mightily in this way, it was really nice. There is a lot to say about Alhambra, but as this article is about the Camino Mozarabe, I am not going to say much it, but I was a little bit overwhelmed (do not miss the opportunity of visiting it of course). Of Granada, best of all I enjoyed being in the Albaicín district, where you can find pleasant restaurants and places, as well as great viewpoint over Alhambra.
The long, dry and winding road to Cordoba.
The Renaissance castle in La Calahorra might have been an omen of what awaits me on the route between Granada and Cordoba. This is a section of about 150km where the olive trees reappear in the landscape again. Not so strange, barely two weeks after I took the bus from the town, I walk back into Baena again.
Cordoba with the old Roman bridge and the Mezquita cathedral.
Here the castles are lined up in a row along the Camino. The first of them is towering above the steep ascent to Moclín, then Alcala la Real follows, before Alcaudete and Espejo. With lesser castles spread out in between them again, like in Baena and Castro del Rio. It is only in Alcala la Real that I get the opportunity to visit the castle, Fortaleza de la Mota, which offers both history and views.
The Mezquita cathedral in Cordoba.
Corona presents me with pleasant narrow streets, the just as overwhelming Mezquita cathedral, and the same amount of tourists as in Granada. When the sun is going down, the old Roman bridge is the place to be.
Walking with Magacela in view.
From Cordoba it is a walk of 250km to where one will enter Merida and keep company with the pilgrims coming up from Sevilla on the Via de la Plata. On the way to Merida, the pilgrim will finally leave Andalucia behind and cross into Extremadura.
Dramatic weather in the horizon from the castle in Medellin.
This part of the Camino Mozarabe features several long distances where there are minimal of facilities in between. Between Villaharta and Alcaracejos there are 35km where there are no places to get food and drink from, or a place to sleep except the starry blanket of the night sky, but some kindhearted farmers has placed a water tap available next to a rest bench underway.
Sunset in Medellin.
The scenery is for the most part dry and arid, but there are also sections with a lot of vegetation, although everything still leaves a dry taste in the mouth. I alternate between walking on paved roads and slightly softer dirt roads, only exceptionally is the route narrow enough to be called a path. In between, there are traces of the forest fires that ravaged Spain earlier this year.
The aquaduct of Merida.
Highlights are the encounter of a decommissioned railway line, the path up to Cerro Muriano from the outskirts of Cordoba, the reddish light over the undulating arable landscape out of Campanario in the morning. And the surprising meeting with another Norwegian on the pilgrimage, a pleasant acquaintance.
Via de la Plata.
Most impressing of it all it is the castles. The castles that I could see at the top of the ridges in the horizon. To have breakfast from the top of the castle in Magacela, after having found where the local baker was hidden. To walk alone at the top of the castle walls above Medellín with a drama unfolding in the sky on all sides. To the east of me a thunderstorm stretched its dark fingers over the landscape, while to the west the sunset burned behind clouds of rain reflected in the Guadiana river.
Cáceres.
Merida was however a minor disappointment. I stumbled into the city on a hurting foot, ended up at an expensive (but very good) hotel and when the level of service in the city is at a low level it does not help much with all the architectural treasures Merida has to offer. Most of all, it must probably be attributed to the fact that one occasionally feels tired and that I was just unlucky with the choice of restaurants. The aqueduct was great to behold.
Puente de Malena.
With the arrival in Merida there is another change. In the form of the more known Via de la Plata that comes winding up from Sevilla and which Camino Mozarabe follows from here on. This entails that the number of pilgrims one will encounter increases significantly, without it being anywhere near overcrowded.
Crossing over the bridge into Salamanca.
I follow the yellow arrows along the Silver Way until Granja de Moruela, and like most of the other pilgrims are doing, I leave the route there to change over to the Camino Sanabrés, although there are those that walks the Via de la Plata in its entirety to where it joins the Camino Francés in Astorga.
Zamora in morning light.
The flat and less exciting landscape that I had expected to encounter, appears first when the historical buildings of Salamanca is left behind me. In return both Zamora and the aforementioned Salamanca are two wonderful cities that make up for the slightly less interesting walk. After forty days on foot, I get the first day that can be called a rainy day, on the walk into Salamanca.
Puente Quintos on the Camino Sanabrés.
Before Salamanca, I let myself to be excited by the route between Proserpina and Alcuéscar, the monumental buildings of historical Cáceres and a reunion with a pilgrim from earlier on the walk, the old city walls of Galisteo, the desolate landscape before the Embalse de Alcántara, the cemetery of art outside Morille and of course the meetings with new pilgrims.
A rainy day on Camino Sanabrés on the way from A Gudiña to Laza.
My way to the Praza do Obradoiro in front of the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela crosses over the mountains of Sanabria. After many hot days in scorching sun there is a weather change on the way. Halfway in October and I am getting closer to Galicia by leaps and bounds, and that is a region of Spain that is not unfamiliar with rain. Long and hot days are replaced with several long and wet days.
In Ourense.
Despite the weather, the days are beautiful. The mountain crossings offer dramatic views in the middle of all the rain, with clouds of fog blowing over the ridges and the route. In addition, the clear remains of the forest fires that ravaged this area provides a stark colourful contrast underneath the grey cover.
Monasterio de Oseira.
I walk through a fairy forest with filtered sunrays between the trees, gaze out from the castle in Puebla de Sanabria, spends the night at the Mosterio de Oseira where I visit the monastery and attends vespers, walks on paths turned into creeks, sees a wall of rain moving over the landscape towards Ponte Ulla from the Miradoiro do Alto do Castro.
A welcome sight in the morning of Santiago de Compostela from the summit of Pico Sacro.
On the 56th day I see for the first time the spires of the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, from the top of Pico Sacro without arousing the attention of Reina Lupa. Of the many entry ways to the tomb of St. James, the Camino Sanabrés is one of the finest. By taking a detour up to Cidade da Cultura de Galicia on the way, you get a great view over the city.
Arrived at the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela after 57 days of walking from the Costa del Sol.
The sky was leaking during the last kilometres, but when I arrive at Praza do Obradoiro there is a clear blue sky and sun above me. My mind drifts back to the very first days, now so long ago, sweating through the dry and barren scenery of the southern coast of Spain. After the mandatory moment in front of the gates of the cathedral the sky closes again, and it begins to rain when I go to find my accommodation. In the evening there is a lightshow in the sky and the gargoyles on the cathedral are overflow with water.
A deluge in the evening, here from Praza de Quintana.
I have walked the epilogue to Finisterre or Muxia several times before, but after nearly two months on the way from Costa del Sol in the south it feels correct to finish the walk by the sea again, at Capo de Finisterre and the Costa da Morte.
The cathedral of Santiago de Compostela from Parque Alameda.
And after all the days of thirst at the beginning of the pilgrimage it is strange to walk through a landscape characterized by rain, where peasants are outside trying to redirect water to save the crops.
Pedra Cabalgada, which is located near Logoso on the Camino de Finisterre.
An endless horizon forms the background, both the end of the world and the end of the walk. Together with other pilgrims whose pilgrimage has come to an end, I gaze out over the ocean while the sun is setting. In the air there is that feeling one get when one is at the end of a journey, with all the experiences one has encountered left behind but still fresh in memory.
The end and the ocean, at the Capo de Fisterra.
A journey is over, another begins.
