Day 15 Loyola and Burgos.

This morning I headed up to Loyola with Bob which for the first time in a week took me off the Camino route but I have always wanted to visit Loyola the birth place of St Ignatius [1490] founder of the Jesuits. It’s a place I have passed by many times on the way to Madrid but never had time to stop. Ignatius was an army general and was wounded in the leg by a cannonball during the battle of Pamplona. Legend has it that while he was recuperating in Santa Casa [Holy House] he asked for a book of heroic exploits of knights instead his sister gave him the life of the saints. He was so disgruntled that he through the book across the room.

However not being provided with any other reading he red the book and this led to a profound religious experience and he decided to renounce all and become a priest. After his ordination he along with several other friends who had also been ordained set up the Jesuits and order of priest that where there solely to do the Popes biding.

They did indeed do many good and charitable works but as with any organization politics took over and the order become one of the most wealthy and powerful in the church. It played a large part in the Spanish Inquisition which is unexpected as Ignatius himself was imprisoned at one time by the inquisition. [No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!!!]

At Loyola there is now a huge basilica which was built next to Santa Casa the size of the building, built in the 17th centaury gives a good indication of how wealthy this order was [and still is] as the dome of the basilica can be seen for miles around. Unfortunately as it was Monday Santa Casa was closed so Bob and I could only explore the basilica. After a spot of lunch it was time for us to go our separate ways as Bob had to be in the office and I had to get to Burgos by the evening a good 4 hour drive with the two stops I had planned.

By now the sun was at its zenith and the heat was like that encountered when opening an oven door. I have to say that my journey took on something of a penitential nature as driving with the sun beating down and hot air being blasted into my face I looked with envy at the air conditioned cars driving pass with cool refreshed passengers on board. This was the opposite too the driving rain in previous weeks but even so the experience of driving a convertible in these conditions was not pleasant. I found myself stopping every half hour to reapply sun cream.

Thankfully every small village I passed had a water fountain by the road back from the days when people journeyed on foot or horse back and needed such refreshment, these are trough like structures with one or to brass taps which constantly run fresh water. Though it’s not advisable to drink the water and I had 2 litres of drinking water in my drinking system it was very refreshing to wash ones face soak my base ball cap and bandanna which I had round my neck which when wet helped to keep my cool.

Often their was a bar across from these water stops and folk would come out to look at the car. I was flattered on several occasions when people said I was a Caballero which means knight and the car was my horse. The Don Quixote in me was most impressed with this and naming the car Rocinante seemed very much the right decision. When I told some of the locals this they laughed and agreed that only a mad man would be driving such a car in this heat. As they say only English men and mad men go out in the midday sun!

One of my stops which was most welcome was Santa Domingo de la Clazada which is right on the Camino from Pamplona. St Domingo wanted to be a Benedictine monk but was rejected so he went to live as a hermit in the woods through which passed the Camino. He began to help the pilgrims by building roads and bridges and also a hospital which is now an impressive Spanish Parador a government run 5 star hotel with prices beyond most pilgrims. The town sprang up around this including the cathedral which now houses the saint’s remains and I was able to go down into the crypt and pray as there was no one else around and ask for safe passage to Compostela.

Back in the car again the heat had not diminished and the final hour and half to Burgos was literally hell probably hotter. I arrived late and really could not face a campsite having to put a tent up and then go and find food. So I headed to the centre in the hope of finding a reasonable hotel with secure parking. I drove round for some time beginning to lose faith that I would find somewhere. Clearly my prayers at the shrine of St Domingo had been heeded as I ended up right by the cathedral and found a hotel named Hotel El Cid after another great Spaniard.

My luck was in as they had a room and parking which they would give me at a special rate as it was late and they where keen to sell the rooms. The hotel was very traditional the sort of place Don Quixote would have approved of particularly as each room was named after a knight and the walls in the lobby where covered with tapestries of knights undertaking great quests.

My first quest was to try and wash some of my clothes as I smelt anything but knightly. I managed to was my chinos a top and several pairs of pants and socks. As I was on the top floor and my window was set back in the roof I was able to hang them all out to dry without them being seen. To give you and indication of how hot it was when I came back only a couple of hours later after my evening meal everything was bone dry.

Burgos was founded in 884AD and has been a key strategic city from day one. It was the capital of the Kingdoms of Castile and Leon from 1073 until 1492 when this honour was passed to Valladolid. In the 15th and 16th centuries it became very wealthy from the wool trade and more recently Franco chose it as his command post for the Spanish Civil war. El Cid was born here and severed Fernando I fighting against the moors but he got caught up in politics with the Kings’ sons and was banished at one point fighting for the moors. He was really immortalized by a romantic poem ‘El Cantar del Mio Cid’ and he and his wife are buried in the cathedral and an impressive statue of him now graces the main gate way to the old part of the city.

Unfortunately the Spanish seemed to have picked up a nasty habit from the British charging people to go into cathedrals. Not once in France was I asked to pay a fee but always gave or paid several Euros to light a candle. Burgos cost 4 Euros and though beautiful inside there was no opportunity to light a candle and even the stoups found in the doorways of European churches had no water in, the custom being to dip ones finger into the holy water and touch your forehead to remind oneself of your baptism. I am saddened that these great places of worship and pilgrimage are becoming nothing more than tourist attractions. If France a secular country can afford to keep its cathedrals open and maintain them primarily as places of worship then we and the Spanish should be able to do the same. The past three cathedrals have had no place set aside for prayer, or where prayer request can be made very poor!

Supper consisted of tapas in a lovely bar with a very friendly barman who took time to describe the different dishes and help me with my Spanish. He was clearly a fan of the UK as he had various items hanging up in the bar including an old fashion policemen’s helmet. After a couple of glasses of what I believe to be the best wine in the world Rioja and several tapas I enjoyed a walk round in the cool of the night before heading for my ‘knights’’ chamber [get it?]