Camino del Norte: Laredo & Santoña

I spent the better part of the day listening to the entire CBC podcast UNCOVER: ESCAPING NXIVM. It covers in great detail the NXIVM cult that has gotten a ton of attention for the involvement of Smallville actress Allison Mack. It combines two of my favorite topics: cults and pyramid schemes. I have come to the conclusion that they share a common thread of being highly litigious scams often perpetuated by a charismatic leader at the top.

The day was punctuated with moments where I started talking to random people I met on the Camino. This was advice prescribed to me in my mom’s final letter so I’ve tried to take it to heart, even if my Spanish is pretty terrible. I spoke with a man who had hung a giant "BUEN CAMINO, PEREGRINOS” sign on his house. His dog kept pawing at my foot trying to get me to throw a pebble for her. I floated my plan with the man about diverting from El Norte to Primitivo with him. He'd walked many Caminos and said what I’d heard before from experienced pilgrims: Primitivo is the hardest but it is is also the most beautiful.

Around 28km into my 33km walk I ran into a couple that was trying to get to a beach that was closed. We started talking and before they drove off the man offered my some of his licorice candy. I took one and then he insisted that I take the whole can. It was really sweet and emblematic of my encounters with local Spanish people along the Camino. Unfortunately the tin could not close very well and it spilled in my bag. It’s the thought that counts.

I spent the night in Laredo at a hotel for 36€. It was my first time in a room with a full-sized bed and private bathroom in the entire month I’d spent in Spain so far. I squinted through the “Battle for Winterfell” episode of Game of Thrones while washing all of my clothing in the bathtub. Just as George R.R. Martin intended.

The next day I sat at a cafe, ate some tortilla, and wrote on my laptop. I wanted to stay in Laredo because there is a nunnery there that operates as an albergue. Other than that, I wasn’t sure how I wanted to spend the day in Laredo, but I heard about a nature reserve called “Faro de Caballo” that wasn’t too far away.

Faro de Caballo is in a town called Santoña across a narrow part of the harbor. There are some great tree-shaded hikes with ocean views that range from 2-4 hours. The one I was interested in involved 763 steps down to a lighthouse. The highlight was a rope swing at the bottom that goes straight into the ocean. I asked some Spanish guys about the rope just to make sure I wouldn’t be jumping to my death. Naturally I then attempted to document the jump by recording a video. Three frigid jumps into the ocean later and I finally got my insta-worthy slow-mo jump. The dangerous part ended up not being the jump but rather trying to get back up the stairs while getting pounded by rough waves.

The thing about going down a steep 763-step staircase is that you eventually have to go back up a steep 763-step staircase. I pulled myself up using the cable next to the stare. At the end of my “rest day” I realized I walked 25 km.

By the time I got to Monasterio Monjas Trinitarias the nuns were unavailable to check me in because they were preparing for mass. I went into the church early and waited for the service to start. A priest arrived and headed into the back to change into his robes. A nun playing the guitar led other nuns in some religious songs. It was cute and yes it made me think of The Sound of Music.

I started to get emotional alone in my pew. I thought about my mom’s traditional Catholic funeral. I thought about all the times I went to church growing up. I thought about all the times as an adult I refused to go to mass with my mom. Not being able to understand the Spanish service gave me the space to project whatever I wanted onto it. After I took the communion I felt hot tears running down my face and I began to curse God. The mixture of anger and tears felt petulant, like a teenager lashing out. I don’t think that’s what you’re supposed to do.

The service was followed by a blessing for all of the pilgrims not dissimilar to what I received in Burgos. It was a little disappointing that only 5 or 6 pilgrims bothered to show up. I think if you’re staying in a religious albergue you should take the time (30 minutes, btw) to attend the service. The priest asked us all our names and then individually did the sign of the cross on our forehead to bless the pilgrimage ahead of us.

It’s hard to not to look back at the relationship I had with my mom and wish I could do so many things differently. I wish we had more openly talked about what my life might look like after she died. I guess it would have been impossible for me to entirely predict where I find myself today. I think I’m still feeling the loss of something as silly as my mom’s opinions. It’s weird to miss something in her death that was a mild source of frustration during her life. I’ll never know for sure what my mom would think about any decision I make for the rest of my life. I’ll never know if she would have approved of my future spouse; I’ll just have to guess. That being said, I’m pretty confident she would be thrilled that her avowed atheist son found himself sleeping in a nunnery in the midst of his Catholic pilgrimage.