The Night of the Santa Compaña
Last month was like a month of spring plunked down in summer. Rain would show up out of nowhere, and temperatures, while not very low, were not as nice as they should have been. While other parts of Spain and Europe were sweltering in above-average temperatures, ours, in our little corner, were below-average. As a consequence, festivals were either rained upon or cancelled and re-scheduled.
One of the events re-scheduled to yesterday, was a night walk in the woods up a hill. It was called the Andaina Santa Compaña, and was designed to be a fun walk to the top of the hill called the Castro Barbudo, along with a few scares straight out of folklore and Halloween.
My daughter convinced me to sign up and go along with her and some cousins of ours. It was eight kilometers, and that wasn't so difficult for me to walk, though it seemed much more because of the terrain, all the people, and the three hours it took. We began at eleven, and when we arrived back it was two in the morning. In the end, waiting to start out, the organizers told us around 1400 people had signed up. They also warned us that just about all Galicia had been declared under risk of wildfire, and smoking was expressly forbidden. (There have been quite a few fires this September, what with two weeks without rain and high winds these past few days.) Instead of sparking the expected fireworks on top of the hill, they would be thrown at the end at the gathering spot, a park which was controlled by firefighters and water connections.
Off we went. Someone decided to bring their dog, a beautiful white Samoyed by the looks of it. As I saw the dog, I thought, what kind of an idiot would bring a dog into the middle of this melée at night? Needless to say, half way along, we saw the dog running, lost, up and down the crowd, trying to find its owner. Luckily, the woman found it and it got off the hill without any untoward incident.
The route had been hacked out in areas during the previous weeks. In other parts, it followed existing dirt tracks. Since it hasn't rained since the penultimate week of August, when I got home I discovered dust in crannies I hadn't been aware of. My eyes are still reacting to the scratchy dust this morning. But the final effect of the walk was nice. In areas, the path was made in switchback, in part, to climb the hill, in part, so one could look up or down and see the lights from the flashlights twinkling and moving, much like the candles supposedly carried by the Santa Compaña, the ghostly agency the walk was named for. The Compaña is supposed to be made up of souls wandering the earth for their sins, with an unwitting human leading it. If one meets it along the lanes at night, and is pressed into service, one will die before the year is out.
At a point along the track, guides told everyone to turn off their flashlight. We had to slow down, so as not to trip over a root or stone, and we noticed up ahead a string of colored lights. We were nearing the area. Cobwebs covered trees and bushes, ultraviolet bulbs lit them up in a purple glow. A face with green outlines appeared in our midst. Screams shrilled in the air. A ticket booth with Pennywise was in a dimly lit corner. But Pennywise wouldn't stay in the booth, and continuous screams ripped the night. So did laughs. A tunnel of black plastic and ultraviolet lit cobwebs covered a part of the track. Out of holes heads and arms appeared, grabbing at the walkers. From underneath the sides, creatures would throw themselves at the unsuspecting walkers. Up ahead, a ghostly girl was lying on a bed. She would sometimes get up and throw herself at someone. At the far end, a pine box with a cross on it moved unexpectedly. Towards the end of the area, a ghostly vigil over a coffin greeted the unaware. Eerie music from hidden speakers set the tone.
One of my cousins and a friend couldn't stop screaming, especially since someone in our group sometimes went ahead, hid, and jumped out at them. I, however, couldn't stop laughing. It was fun, especially watching all the people who were scared out of their skin. But, to me, the scares should have been more, and along unexpected areas of the walk. They were concentrated in one area, while the rest of the walk was just that, a walk. The route led to the top of the Castro Barbudo, from where we could see the lights of villages and towns all around us and across the estuary of the Ría de Arousa to Vilagarcía and beyond. It was a clear night, windy atop the hill, and the lights shone brightly, as did the stars above us. From there, we came down, and along a different route, passed through the scare area again until we arrived back at Campo Maneiro, the park where the organizers had a band awaiting.
There were also food and queimada. Queimada, meaning "burnt" in Galician, is made with caña, a liquor distilled from the remains of the grapes used to make wine. It's colorless and can be as strong as vodka, depending on who's distilling it. To it, in a large earthenware bowl, is added sugar, the rinds of lemons and oranges, and some coffee beans. This is all set on fire. It's put out with a lid when it has achieved the level of alcohol one wants; for a stronger drink, it burns less time. I think also some type of sandwiches were being distributed, to offset the alcohol. There were fireworks when the majority of people were back at the park. But my daughter and I were too tired to stay. Besides, the line of people awaiting a drink of queimada and a sandwich was about a half hour long. Or more.
It was an interesting outing. This morning, I'm still dusty and sore, but I'm glad I went.
One of the events re-scheduled to yesterday, was a night walk in the woods up a hill. It was called the Andaina Santa Compaña, and was designed to be a fun walk to the top of the hill called the Castro Barbudo, along with a few scares straight out of folklore and Halloween.
My daughter convinced me to sign up and go along with her and some cousins of ours. It was eight kilometers, and that wasn't so difficult for me to walk, though it seemed much more because of the terrain, all the people, and the three hours it took. We began at eleven, and when we arrived back it was two in the morning. In the end, waiting to start out, the organizers told us around 1400 people had signed up. They also warned us that just about all Galicia had been declared under risk of wildfire, and smoking was expressly forbidden. (There have been quite a few fires this September, what with two weeks without rain and high winds these past few days.) Instead of sparking the expected fireworks on top of the hill, they would be thrown at the end at the gathering spot, a park which was controlled by firefighters and water connections.
Off we went. Someone decided to bring their dog, a beautiful white Samoyed by the looks of it. As I saw the dog, I thought, what kind of an idiot would bring a dog into the middle of this melée at night? Needless to say, half way along, we saw the dog running, lost, up and down the crowd, trying to find its owner. Luckily, the woman found it and it got off the hill without any untoward incident.
The route had been hacked out in areas during the previous weeks. In other parts, it followed existing dirt tracks. Since it hasn't rained since the penultimate week of August, when I got home I discovered dust in crannies I hadn't been aware of. My eyes are still reacting to the scratchy dust this morning. But the final effect of the walk was nice. In areas, the path was made in switchback, in part, to climb the hill, in part, so one could look up or down and see the lights from the flashlights twinkling and moving, much like the candles supposedly carried by the Santa Compaña, the ghostly agency the walk was named for. The Compaña is supposed to be made up of souls wandering the earth for their sins, with an unwitting human leading it. If one meets it along the lanes at night, and is pressed into service, one will die before the year is out.
At a point along the track, guides told everyone to turn off their flashlight. We had to slow down, so as not to trip over a root or stone, and we noticed up ahead a string of colored lights. We were nearing the area. Cobwebs covered trees and bushes, ultraviolet bulbs lit them up in a purple glow. A face with green outlines appeared in our midst. Screams shrilled in the air. A ticket booth with Pennywise was in a dimly lit corner. But Pennywise wouldn't stay in the booth, and continuous screams ripped the night. So did laughs. A tunnel of black plastic and ultraviolet lit cobwebs covered a part of the track. Out of holes heads and arms appeared, grabbing at the walkers. From underneath the sides, creatures would throw themselves at the unsuspecting walkers. Up ahead, a ghostly girl was lying on a bed. She would sometimes get up and throw herself at someone. At the far end, a pine box with a cross on it moved unexpectedly. Towards the end of the area, a ghostly vigil over a coffin greeted the unaware. Eerie music from hidden speakers set the tone.
One of my cousins and a friend couldn't stop screaming, especially since someone in our group sometimes went ahead, hid, and jumped out at them. I, however, couldn't stop laughing. It was fun, especially watching all the people who were scared out of their skin. But, to me, the scares should have been more, and along unexpected areas of the walk. They were concentrated in one area, while the rest of the walk was just that, a walk. The route led to the top of the Castro Barbudo, from where we could see the lights of villages and towns all around us and across the estuary of the Ría de Arousa to Vilagarcía and beyond. It was a clear night, windy atop the hill, and the lights shone brightly, as did the stars above us. From there, we came down, and along a different route, passed through the scare area again until we arrived back at Campo Maneiro, the park where the organizers had a band awaiting.
There were also food and queimada. Queimada, meaning "burnt" in Galician, is made with caña, a liquor distilled from the remains of the grapes used to make wine. It's colorless and can be as strong as vodka, depending on who's distilling it. To it, in a large earthenware bowl, is added sugar, the rinds of lemons and oranges, and some coffee beans. This is all set on fire. It's put out with a lid when it has achieved the level of alcohol one wants; for a stronger drink, it burns less time. I think also some type of sandwiches were being distributed, to offset the alcohol. There were fireworks when the majority of people were back at the park. But my daughter and I were too tired to stay. Besides, the line of people awaiting a drink of queimada and a sandwich was about a half hour long. Or more.
It was an interesting outing. This morning, I'm still dusty and sore, but I'm glad I went.
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| The undead joining the walk. |
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