Via Regia / Ecumenical Pilgrimage Route

Via Regia / Ecumenical Pilgrimage Route — Camino Ninja Guide | Camino Ninja

We hardly even noticed that we had long since left Lake Großkaynaer behind us and were now heading toward Rossbach. The path first climbs gently and then descends again across vast fields. Grain as far as the eye can see. In the distance on the southern horizon, a row of wind turbines stands on a hill (I wouldn’t dare call it a mountain, but by local standards, it’s quite a climb to get there). “We still have to get there today,” I said. Andrea immediately started checking her water bottle. “Hey, we need fresh water!” My bottle was almost empty too, so I kept an eye out for a place to refill it. At the entrance to Rossbach, a crowd of people was setting up a large festival tent on a sports field. There were already a few carousels and food stands there. There’s definitely going to be a celebration here this coming Pentecost weekend. Where there are men doing physical labor, there must be something to drink—so let’s go. But when I asked for water, I was just met with incredulous stares. Or was it our backpacks and our outfits that made people look at us that way? One worker directed us to the street performers: “They might have something to sell!” “Nope, we just need a tap with drinking water—surely there’s one at the sports clubhouse, right?” was my reply and question. I think if I’d asked for a bottle of beer, I’d have had one in my hand by now. But instead, they acted as if we’d made an impossible request, and everyone avoided our gaze. But now I’d had enough. I headed straight into the sports clubhouse. There had to be a water faucet somewhere in here! A woman crossed my path with a questioning look. Everyone here seemed to be in a flurry of excitement, and I hardly dared to speak to her. But at least she should know why I was there: “I’m looking for a water faucet.” She led me into a washroom with many small sinks. Desperately, I tried to get the bottles under the faucet—it won’t work—I cursed. I hurried after the woman, who had already disappeared again. “This isn’t working. I can’t get the bottles under the faucet. Isn’t there a place where I can clean the mud off my soccer cleats?” Yes, there was—in a restroom. But I didn’t care about that anymore, and I filled both bottles with water. “That took a long time,” Andrea said outside. And I told her the story. “That in Germany you have to beg for water?” she said jokingly.

Running parallel to the B7, which leads toward Gotha, we walked along the Bühlauer Hohlweg, away from the highway and thus far from the traffic and noise that began to pick up as the day wore on. Beautiful suburban mansions and older homes lined the path. At one house, a sign caught our eye: “Santiago de Compostela 2364 km,” with a small car symbol next to it and “3000 km” next to a small pedestrian figure. A scallop shell was also nailed to the signpost. We discussed at length why the person who put up the sign knew the distance to Santiago by car so precisely, whereas the distance on foot could only be a very rough estimate. It would be quite a coincidence if, of all places, it were exactly 3,000 kilometers at this very spot. The big difference between road and walking kilometers also seemed quite questionable to me. But the gesture and the fact that this sign stands here of all places shows once again that this path and its pilgrims are recognized and appreciated. We did want to arrive in Santiago this year, even though there were still quite a few kilometers by plane, bus, and on foot to cover at that point. And we discussed whether we could make it (assuming we had enough vacation time and would try) by the agreed-upon date. The result: We would have made it with plenty of time to spare. Whether it would have been physically feasible is another matter entirely. At that point, we still planned to walk the Camino Primitivo on our own starting from Oviedo, and our friend Jörg wanted to take the same flights to Asturias with his daughter but continue on by bus to León. So while we would have set out from Oviedo, Jörg and his daughter would have started their journey in Hospital de Orbigo. We planned to meet in Palas de Rei after 10 stages each and walk the rest together. Jörg intended to complete the Camino Francés he had abandoned in 2010, and we had the opportunity to walk a new route—one that, as we now know, turned out to be completely different. Anyone who has already read the report on our Camino Primitivo in my blog knows that things turned out quite differently. Jörg’s daughter’s family planning just happened a bit faster, and shortly after our journey together from Oviedo to Finisterre, he became a grandfather for the second time—which is also wonderful.