One day he placed his drawing on the bunk bed of a young pilgrim from the US. Nathan and I looked on as he charmed his way into people’s minds and became a beacon of hope, not just for us, but for every pilgrim we met.Įach evening, Reuben drew a wardrobe with his felt tips. Reubs knew that mum and dad would be waiting for us near the steps of Santiago’s magnificent cathedral, and that thought carried him onwards. It was a truly transformational travel experience, and the beginning of my understanding of Reuben’s reality. We were learning what it was really like to have Down’s syndrome, walking at his pace and experiencing life through his eyes. We had assumed we were taking Reubs on a pilgrimage but it was becoming apparent that he was taking us on one. We apologised to each other and enjoyed a brothers’ hug, both realising that this experience was changing us – mainly because of the little guy sitting cross-legged next to us, grinning from ear to ear. We met up with Nathan in the town of Sarria, a popular starting point a mere 67 miles from Santiago. Reubs and I slept in Samos monastery that night and I had one of the deepest night’s sleep of my life. You take the Reubs and I’ll see you in two days’ time.” “Maybe it will do us good.” We had assumed we were taking Reubs on a pilgrimage, but it was becoming apparent that he was taking us on one “Look – there’s a fork in the path after the next village: the official route and an alternative one to visit the monastic community of Samos. Nathan and I were spent and had a blow out. The walking, the doubling back to see where Reuben was and the sleepless nights were taking their toll. Other pilgrims often made sure there was a bed for Reuben, but his brothers had to sleep on cold corridor floors. But for us it was rare to find a bed available, as we were always the last to leave and the last to arrive. We had our credenciales, or pilgrim’s passports, which give walkers the right to a bed in any of the dozens of refuges dotted along the route for a nominal fee. I’ve since learned that carer burnout can creep up on you like this very easily. Nathan and I had been neglecting ourselves for the sake of Reubs. In the idyllic cobbled village of Castrillo de los Polvazares we gorged on traditional cocido maragato, a medieval-feeling feast, only in reverse: platters of pork, chicken and beef, followed by pico pardal (tiny chickpeas), and then soup at the end of the meal.
In the town of Astorga, we marvelled at Gaudí’s Episcopal Palace, the furthest of all his commissions from his Barcelona base. The route passes through countryside around Sarria, to the east of Santiago. On the outskirts of town, just before residential merges into industrial, Reubs spied a cafe with food photos in the window. Every step was made with trepidation and the pace was agonisingly slow. We tightened Reuben’s waist clip so his hips took the weight away from his shoulders and his face changed from grimace to scorn. Too heavy,” he announced, pointing over his shoulder. Within minutes Reuben sat down on a park bench. Leaving a city on foot is an odd, counter-intuitive sensation. We were to join the Camino Frances, which runs from the French Pyrenees across the arid plains of Castilla-León, and climb gently at first, and then dramatically as we neared the fertile pastures of Galicia.
#Santiago spain series
Packs duly adjusted, we set off to find the official Camino, a series of metal scallop shells cemented into the pavements and yellow arrows marking our route. “We need to lighten our load.” Pilgrims of all ages, backgrounds and creeds share a common goal and a “Camino culture” of reaching out to help others Every day, he likes to draw images from his favourite books and films: lions, nuns, wardrobes. Back in the room, I noticed Reuben had a whole pack of felt-tips with him. We spent hours at the breakfast buffet, eating as if it was the last time we’d see food for weeks. Photograph: Manni CoeĪ friend had treated us to a night in the Parador de San Marcos, a splendid former Renaissance convent at the start of the route. Brothers Reuben (left), Nathan (centre) and Manni in Santiago’s Plaza de Obradoiro.
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