Pilgrim's Road

battlements and the refurbished and flag-bedecked gatehouse, with its wealth of crenellated turrets. Ferdinand II of León granted Ponferrada to the Knights Templar in 1185, in order that they might protect the pilgrims on their way to Santiago, as well as assisting in the Reconquest. By that time the Templars were the most powerful of the orders of chivalry, having had more than sixty years to prove themselves in the Crusades. With its strict hierarchical structure, its emphasis on high birth and its secret rituals and initiation ceremonies, it produced in its members a monastic degree of obedience and discipline and an almost fanatical loyalty to the Order. But the power and wealth that the Knights accumulated and the arrogance they developed towards outside interference made a clash with higher authority inevitable. In 1312 the Knights Templar were expelled from Spain, and all over Europe and in England the Order was forcibly disbanded and their property confiscated. Present-day reminders of their considerable presence in medieval London are the Inns of Court and the Temple Church. Disbanded, the Knights Templar became idealised models for romantic tales of medieval chivalry and for the songs of the troubadours, just as Charlemagne and his paladins had before them.
    The Templars had also founded the fine parish church of Nuestra Señora de la Encina. But like much of the centre of Ponferrada, this building had been largely reconstructed in the late sixteenth century and given a tall ornate Baroque bell tower. A sizeable congregation was just leaving the church as I arrived, and although once again I was sorry to have missed a Sunday service, I was able to add the stamp of the place to my pilgrim passport. It was a nice seal, celebrating the twelfth-century miracle of the Virgin and Child appearing to the populace in an oak tree.
    A very neat grid system of streets stands next to the old part of Ponferrada and it was here I sought a much needed lunch — though actually the hearty midday meal I had grown accustomed to eating in Spain should more properly be called luncheon. It was the best compromise I had found for coping with the impossibly late Spanish evening meal, usually not served until I was in bed and asleep. After the splendid menúdel día I needed only a light evening snack, and I could either get my own in the refugio or eat tapas in a bar. Breakfast could be a problem as nothing happened much before nine-thirty a.m. in Spain, so I needed to buy provisions the day before in order to get my own. Cycling after a heavy meal is not advisable, but as the Spanish luncheon was also served late, and I started my day very early, I often did not need to go on afterwards.
    Neither luncheon, nor even a humble lunch proved easy to find in this part of Ponferrada on a Sunday, however, and after quartering the checker board streets for a considerable time, I thought I had better settle for the ‘Ho Cheng’. It is usually interesting to see how Chinese food changes its image according to the taste of the host country. But after satisfying the worst of my hunger at this place I was not surprised that I was their only customer. The amount I had managed to eat would certainly not inconvenience me on the uphill road to Villafranca del Bierzo.
    All the pilgrims I spoke to afterwards found the route out of Ponferrada one of the most confusing parts of their journey. I was no exception. I added several extra miles to my route and practised my Spanish assiduously in attempts to enlist local help in getting me back on the Camino , but it seemed a very long time before I was free of the confusion of major roads. And even when I thought I was finally established on my correct way to Villafranca del Bierzo, a passer-by spotting my shells had to redirect me to another road. Once I was truly launched it proved a pleasant ride in warm sunshine through the vineyards of the Bierzo.
    Just before descending to the town of Villafranca del Bierzo the pilgrim comes to one of the most significant and evocative places of the pilgrimage. The austerely beautiful little Romanesque church of Santiago looks much as it must have done for the best part of a thousand years, standing at the side of the rough track, with below it the first glimpse of the town in its pleasant valley, with the green hills beyond. It is a simple single-apsed church of quiet dignity. All its ornamentation is concentrated around a rich portal in the northern wall of the