Camino de Santiago

Camino de Santiago is a pilgrimage to the (supposed) tomb of St James in northwestern Spain.

What I did NOT know is that there are roughly twenty different routes, which kind of makes sense since people live all over Spain.

The picture that pops into most people's minds is the route that originates in France and parallel's Spain's northern coast but about 75 miles inland. 

Another route parallels the coast but is much closer. That route has a lot more vertical as the trail climbs elevations and drops down into valleys that are essentially at sea-level.

One of the least traveled routes starts in Seville and heads north approximately 40 miles east of the Spain-Portugal border. This route is almost 700 miles long and has at least one stretch that is 15 miles between public water sources. 

The first 300 miles is brutally hot in the summer months and most pilgrims start in late March or delay until late-September. Some pilgrims duck the heat problem but starting at an intermediate point like Aldeaneuva del Camino or Cáceres. Approximately 3% of the pilgrims take this route, which is about my speed.

An overhead shot of part of Casar de Cáceres. You can click on the image to embiggen it.

One of the things that struck me as odd was that the villages in western Spain are very densely packed, almost like walled cities. Virtually no gardens or fruit trees or green-spaces. The few orchards in evidence appear to be olives.

Canaveral, Spain

That strikes me as exceptionally odd because most European countries seem to be borderline-paranoid about food security.

That may be because wars have been fought less frequently within the borders of Spain than in most other European Country. The Spanish Civil War (mid-1930s) caused country-wide disruptions but nearly all of the prior two centuries of Spanish military adventures took place over-seas, were levies by Royal kin asking for fighters or were tempest-in-a-teapot mini-rebellions.

Or perhaps it is a legacy of Roman and Muslim settlement.

Or maybe it is some quirk of rainfall and soil and hydrology.

It is a puzzle.

My visions of going on the Camino de Santiago and plucking figs, plums and apricots from trees hanging over the walkway for my mid-day snack appear to be baseless fantasies.