Although I was wet and tired, I took my time in Manjarín. Each house, no matter the state, had a sense of character. Some houses sent shivers up my spine, and I wondered what had happened to the people who were once there. Did they abandon the village, or did the village die with them? From page 146, Camino de Santiago In 20 Days.
Now, I’ll continue with my journey on the Camino de Santiago. If you have my book, I’m in the chapter, Day 14: Who Else Would I Dream About? Even if you don’t have my book, you can still enjoy this post, and learn more about walking the French Way or Camino Francés (map from Wikipedia Commons). I left my last post, On The Camino de Santiago In Spain, Foncebadón To Manjarín, walking on wet and muddy trails. Rain, mixed with big, wet flakes of snow, was falling all around. I also had wet boots for the first time on the Camino and wasn’t happy. I didn’t know anything about Manjarín before I had arrived. To say I was shocked is an understatement. I had never before seen anything as haunting as the village of Manjarín.
The cemetery on the outskirts of the village.
The approach to Manjarín.
I believe someone was living in this house. It was one of the very few that were still standing.
The village originated in the 12th century.
The highway was deserted on this gloomy afternoon.
I stopped in front of many ruins, and wondered about the people who were once there.
There was something ahead…
Although I didn’t see anybody, there was definitely signs of life at the albergue. I wrote on page 146, “Outside, a sign showed distances to various places, including 222 kilometers to Santiago. If I survived my time on the mountain, I would be past the three-quarter mark sometime during the next day.”
Across from the albergue, this letrina or toilet would have been a welcome sight on the senda, a few days earlier.
On page 146, I wrote about these stone slabs. I had no idea what they were.
This home possibly had occupants until recently. By recently, I mean within the last 50 years.
Looking back at Manjarín. I don’t know if I will ever see anything like it again. It must be spooky to walk through at night, especially during a storm.
I hope you enjoy this post. Manjarín doesn’t get much more than a mention in most guidebooks, but at least for this pilgrim, walking through the village was an experience I’ll never forget. On my next post, On The Camino De Santiago in Spain, Manjarín to El Acebo, I walked off the highway, and along the worst, and potentially dangerous, trails on the Camino. Please join me.
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