Welcome, brave seekers of the Plenary Indulgence and lovers of gastric risk! If you are thinking of doing the Lebaniego Road, stop reading boring spiritual guides. Here I bring you the real chronicle, raw and flavored with Liébana pomace of what it means to cross the Picos de Europa without dying in the attempt (or in digestion).
Day 1: San Vicente de la Barquera and the “plain” deception
I started in San Vicente with the enthusiasm of a child and the equipment of a NASA astronaut. My backpack was so heavy that when I put it on, my vertebrae made a sound like a bag of chips opening.
The first mistake of all pilgrim is believing that "close to the coast" means flat. Lie. In Cantabria, the plain is an urban legend like the Yeti. Everything is a ramp to heaven. When I reached the first hill, an 85-year-old woman passed me with a hazelnut stick and a shopping bag. He looked at me, sighed and said: «Are you tired, kid? Well, you still haven't seen what a pindia is..
Day 2: The encounter with the “Bear” (or my own shadow)
Arriving at the area Lamason, the forest became closed. I listened for any noise, remembering all the National Geographic documentaries about the cantabrian brown bear. Suddenly, in the bushes, a guttural roar stopped my heart.
I got into the fetal position, recited the Lord's Prayer, and offered him my oatmeal and cardboard energy bar. When I opened one eye, it wasn't a bear. It was a countryman taking a nap under a chestnut tree, whose snoring had the power of a Boeing 747.
«Are you looking for the way, son?», he asked me when I woke up. «Follow the red arrows and, if you see a bug with hair, do not feed it, otherwise it will get sick». Wise advice.
Day 3: The Final Battle against Cocido Lebaniego
Getting to Potes is like entering Middle Earth, but with more of a sausage smell. I sat down at an inn with the intention of eating "something light." The waiter, a man who looked like he had been carved from limestone, brought me a Stewed Lebaniego.
Technical note: Lebaniego stew is not a dish, it is an ambush. First come the Potes chickpeas (small but tough), then the cabbage and, finally, the “compango”: chorizo, blood sausage, bacon and the stuffed.
At the third spoonful, my arteries began to play the anthem of Cantabria. On the fifth, I saw Santo Toribio greeting me from beyond. It is the only dish in the world that requires planning permission to be digested. I tried to get up, but my center of gravity had permanently shifted toward my feet.
Day 4: Santo Toribio and the Miracle of the Pomace
I arrived at the Monastery of Santo Toribio de Liébana shuffling like an extra The Walking Dead. There is the Lignum Crucis, the largest piece of the Cross of Christ. I knelt, not out of devotion, but because my knees no longer had cartilage.
After receiving the “Lebaniega” (the certificate that I have survived), I went down to Potes for the acid test: The pomace tasting.
- Herb pomace: "This heals the soul," they say. Fact: It blows away your nose hair in one breath.
- Pomace cream: For the lazy. It tastes like a vanilla milkshake with a desire to fight.
- White pomace: Rocket fuel. If you drink a lot, you start to speak in old Cantabrian and understand what the cows say.
I ended the day dancing a jackfruit with a group of German tourists who believed that pomace was apple juice. Poor souls.
Conclusion: Is the Camino Lebaniego worth it?
If you are looking for a mystical experience, dreamy landscapes and a reason to buy a pair of pants in a larger size, the Lebaniego Road It's your place. You will return with fewer sins, more cholesterol and a collection of stories that no one will believe in your neighborhood bar.
