Contemplating on the Camino: Cea to Oseira Monastery

 "The greatest gift you can give yourself is time spent in nature."

Camino Sanabrés Stage 11 / Via de la Plata Stage 35

Camino Logistics

Today we have what is perhaps one of the shortest days we've walked on any pilgrimage we've done so far - just 8.5 km to the beautiful Monastery Oseira.  This wasn't what we'd planned to do, but our options are 9 km or 32 km, and with the temperature still in the mid-30s, we don't think we would do well with the longer stage through hilly terrain.  Sometimes you don't get what you want, but you do get what you need, so perhaps this is the Camino's way of saying we should slow down.

We waited until 7:00 AM to set off, hoping to get breakfast in the bar in town before heading out.  It went against our instincts to sit still, waiting to set off, when we knew it would be a hot day.  However, with only 9 km to walk, there was no point in racing. It turned out we needn't have bothered, as the place that advertised it would open at 7:00 AM for breakfast was still shut tight at 7:15 AM, the 'cerrado' sign clearly visible to all and no sign of activity inside.

As such, it was breakfast in our room once again. 

Wrong Way, Right Way 

When we left Cea, we had a choice - to follow the highway to Castro-Dozon or to take a detour to the Monastery in Oseira on a slightly longer (+ 4 km) route.  We followed the arrows out of town, seeing the highway signs for Oseira as we went, and were already about 10 minutes down the road when I realized something wasn't right.  The variant to the monastery should have taken us past a sports complex, and then we should have picked up a forested track.  I looked at the Wise Pilgrim App and realized we were heading down the more direct highway route, not the variant to the monastery.  We retraced our steps, making the turn we missed earlier (which had no Camino arrows we could see at it), and were soon on our way.  I wonder how many pilgrims make the same mistake - following the road signs for the monastery without realizing that the Camino walking route to it follows a different course.

 

  
We passed the sports complex and then a rather unaesthetic-looking barn or industrial building, where we spotted the first yellow arrow since leaving town.  The markings directed us off onto a forested track, and we were on our way.  Soon we were following the curving path through stands of pine, oak, and eucalyptus.  The sun had not risen above the surrounding hills yet, so we were still walking through the soft light of morning.

Contemplating the Camino 

For the first time on either the Via de la Plata or Camino Sanabrés, these few extra kilometres and extra time didn’t really matter.  Today was a day for a very short walk, allowing us time in nature, and lots of reflection – about both the Camino and life. It was a day for simplicity and to let the problems of the future be the purview of the future.  As one French pilgrim stated last night, “We have the time, so why rush towards overpriced over-touristic albergue bunks in Santiago?  We have all been there before. The journey begins when you get there, it does not end.”

Forest Tracks and Bird Song

It was very pleasant going, walking a track that was cocooned in lush green tree canopies and mossy stone walls.  The forest around us was alive with birdsong, and we caught flitters of movement in the leaves and bushes around us. A highlight was when Sean spotted a tiny black and yellow Fire Salamander sitting on the trail.  It was obviously still pretty cold because when I tried to move it over, out of harm's way, it barely reacted, making no effort to escape.

As we continued on, our forested track took on different personas.  For a while, we followed a raised stone pathway, designed to help keep our feet dry after a heavy rain. Despite the unprecedented amounts of rain some parts of Spain and Portugal have experienced in the past month, the forest in Galicia is extremely dry at the moment, apart from the streams and waterfalls we cross. 

A little farther along, the track changed again, and we found ourselves climbing on what looked like worn, uneven cobblestones of a Roman road. We took our time, enjoying the reflections in some of the few puddles on the trail, and the colours of the sweet-smelling wildflowers that bordered the path. 

We also stopped to marvel at and photograph the intricate spiralling patterns of the snail shells scattered among the stones.  When we came to a small clearing, we spent quite a bit of time photographing and observing the dew-soaked spider webs that adorned the grasses and gorse bushes.  It felt good to take things slowly and simply enjoy ourselves after so many hundreds of miles of pushing forward.

Silvaboa

Eventually, the treed track joined a quiet paved country road, and we found ourselves walking into the small village of Silvaboa.  This turned out to be a single farming homestead, with many low stone buildings, rather than a village.  We were, however, welcomed into the farmyard by a pack of about ten large puppies and their mother, all of whom wanted to give us warm greetings and a thorough sniff.  Their days must be filled with interesting encounters from the stream of new pilgrims passing through.

On the far side of the homestead, the landscape opened up, and we could see the surrounding hills. Some of them had a new growth of yellow blooming gorse, but all of them were covered in the charred remains of trees and bushes.  It was clear that a forest fire had spread throughout the region in the not-too-distant past.  This brought to mind the out-of-control wildfires that are once again burning across Canada, this time in the Prairie Provinces.

Pieras

Eventually, the track led back to the paved road, and we found ourselves descending into the village of Pieras. To our surprise, there was a bar, but sadly it wasn't open.  As we walked the streets, which were lined with low fieldstone homes that had slanting slate roofs, we were passed by a group of French cyclists who were barreling down the hill at full speed.  As they shot across the main road, one of them nearly collided with a car that was driving at full speed, but he seemed to think it was good fun.  The locals were less amused and let their displeasure be known.

On the far side of the village, we continued the descent on a grassy footpath that led back into the trees.  The fields and forests on either side of the track felt very peaceful, and things were about to get better.  Soon we reached the bottom of a river valley, where a small stream was flowing between winding, moss-covered banks, making many small waterfalls as it went. 

On one bank of the clear, fast-flowing stream were the remains of an old flour mill, the rusted metal wheel still visible inside the doorway.  We spent quite a bit of time enjoying the cool, calm, refreshing feeling that pervaded the forested clearing down by the water.  We especially liked looking into the fluid yet mirror-like reflections in the clear pools along its length.  As we sat there, a group of about six other hikers passed us by, quickly climbing out of sight on the forested track.

A short stretch of road walking brought us to another track which traced along the steep forested sides of the valley between two stone walls.  Under our feet, we could see the ruts of wagon wheels worn into the cobblestones, making us think it must have been the main route to the monastery at one point, and prompting us to wonder about all the people who travelled it before us.

This track brought us to a stone chapel and cemetery perched partway up the valley side.  Across the way, we could see a small village snuggled into the hillside, which had been turned a bright yellow by blooming gorse and broom.  The chapel we were looking up at was located in another very peaceful spot, and as we explored, we discovered a second small stone building tucked away behind it.  Out front on the neatly mowed lawn were two palm trees, something that we've seen a lot less of since leaving Salamanca.

Osiera Monastery 

From there, it was a very short road walk to the monastery, its stone towers peaking out through the trees before the rest was fully visible.  We approached it from below, seeing a long stone wall with a line of barred windows first, reminding us a little of Bonneval Abbey on the GR65 in France, one of the most peaceful spots we've ever visited.  

Apparently, the community name of Oseira comes from the Latin word ‘ursus’, which translates to bear. Seemingly, this name was chosen because the monastery’s location is in a valley where bears were common. 

When we rounded the main gates into the courtyard in front of Santa María de Oseira Monastery, we were struck by the intricately carved and heavily weathered façade, impressive in its quiet grandeur. Originally, a church had been founded on this site in 1137. In the 12th and 13th centuries, a monastery was built here, becoming the first of the Cistercian Order’s monasteries in Galicia. Monks had come from France to dedicate themselves to God and to a life of physical work in isolation.

The monastery is beautifully situated amid rolling green landscapes, beside the gently flowing River Oseira. Inside, the church is peaceful and serene; the cool stone underfoot offers relief from the sun, and light filters softly through the high windows, casting quiet patterns across the walls. The air smells faintly of aged wood and incense, and the faint echo of our footsteps underscores the stillness. Its simplicity lends a quiet beauty, even without extensive artistic decoration, allowing the history and devotion of centuries to resonate in the atmosphere.

We weren't sure where the albergue was, where we needed to go to check in, or if this was even a possibility so early in the day.  So, we headed for the gift shop, which was full of visitors and other pilgrims.  We soon learned that the monastery makes eucalyptus liqueur, chocolate, and artisanal beer.  

Monastery Tour

We bought a small bag of cookies and two tickets to visit the inside, not realizing until then that we could only visit the inside of the monastery as part of a tour.  We had just sat down to have a cold Aquarius and our cookies when the tour began.  It was delivered in Spanish and began with a small group of pilgrims, but we were soon joined by a bus tour group, which swelled its numbers considerably.

We were taken through the cloisters, shown magnificent stone staircases, walked through a shop with many ceramic storage jars, and shown historical photos of the monastery and the various activities that had been carried out there over the years.  We were also taken through a long room with relics that had been excavated from the monastery when it was restored.  

Among the most interesting things in that room were sections of pipe that had been crafted from interlocking stones.  Many stones, which had been hollowed out were strung together to make a pipe, making me wonder how they stopped it from leaking.

The highlight of the course was the main church, which had a white Madonna on the altar that reminded me a lot of the black Madonna we saw in Rocamador while walking the Via Podiensis.

Albergue and Lunch 

After the tour, we went around to the back of the monastery to find the albergue, which turned out to be a huge, modern building with 40 beds, a large kitchen and sitting area, a courtyard, and very spacious, modern, and clean bathrooms.  It was a very nice place, and it doesn't look like it will be full tonight at all.   Best of all, despite the rising temperatures outside, the thick stone walls kept it cool inside!

We did chores and a bit of writing in the common room until we were able to check in, and then went down to the bar outside the gates for a cold drink.  We asked if they had anything vegetarian to eat, and the chef made toast with cheese, pepper jam, and endives on top.  It was delicious!  

Apparently, the pilgrims who stayed in Cea yesterday at the municipal albergue were all warned not to continue to the monastery, with claims that the restaurant outside its gates would either be closed or refuse service. The owner of the monastery restaurant had clearly heard about this, and without going into details, he noted that it seems to be an ongoing issue.

He believes that the warnings are intended to keep people in Cea, especially since the albergue in Castro Dozón is closed, forcing pilgrims to walk an additional 10 km afterward to find food or lodging. As a result, many pilgrims choose to walk to the monastery to break up the stages nicely, but when told that “there is nothing at the monastery,” they instead opt to stay in Cea.

We have seen this sort of tactic on other trails as well. A few years ago, on the Camino Fisterra just outside Santiago, a woman handing out flyers for her nearby albergue and restaurant repeatedly told pilgrims that there was nowhere to stay or eat for the next 25–30 km -  a claim that was, and remains, patently untrue.

After this excellent meal, we spent a quiet afternoon in and around the albergue, going out at one point to explore the town and the river in the local park.  It felt good to have a quiet day, where we were free to simply enjoy nature and relax after so many days of walking. 

Slow Moments in Nature 

While sitting on the edge of the stream under the shade of a tree in the park, we watched a whole host of Beautiful Demoiselles skimming back and forth across the surface of the water.  Their iridescent blue bodies and slick-looking black wings are a familiar sight from many trails we've walked. 

Above the river, a small group of Common Swifts was zipping back and forth, feeding on the insects emerging from the water.  Behind us on the mowed lawn a Mistle Thrush was foraging, behaving very much like American Robins do in urban neighbourhoods across Canada.  It was a peaceful spot, and very full of life.

Vespers

We hoped to attend Vespers in the monastery at 7:15 PM, and when we asked about this, the lady explained there was another tour at 6:30 PM, and afterwards we would be taken up to the service.  As a result, we ended up taking a second tour of the monastery.  This one had far fewer people in attendance, making it much easier to explore.  It was actually quite interesting to see the inside of the Church in a different light as well - some rooms glowing in the late afternoon sunshine, and others much darker than they had been earlier.  

After the second tour, we were led to a small chapel on the second floor, where the monks still live and practice.  The service was sung by eight men, and attended by around 20 visitors, half of which were pilgrims from the albergue, and half of who belonged to a religious tour group that was on retreat in the monastery.   It was a lovely service, leaving us feeling very peaceful.

Vegetarian Dinner

Afterwards, we went back down to the bar to see if we could get another sandwich like the one the chef had made for us earlier.  Instead, this time he fixed a truly enormous pan of vegetable paella. 

It wasn't the frozen stuff so prevalent in restaurants and bars along the Camino Frances, but rather a homemade feast.  We sat outside in the fading evening light, enjoying the feast and feeling extremely grateful for a lovely day on the trail.

 

Blessings and Faith on the Way 

I think our gratitude was amplified because it was the first day like this we've experienced so far on this Camino.  At the moment, our general impression of the Via de la Plata and Camino Sanabrés is that they leave little space for relaxation or reflection.  One of the gifts of the other Spanish Caminos is that many of them provide an opportunity to hold a question or intention in your mind while you walk, allowing you time to explore the reasons you're out there. 

You can trust the trail to offer a relatively safe and enjoyable walk, and you can more or less know that you will find food and accommodation at the end of each stage.  This leaves you free to concentrate on more important things.  In contrast, on this Camino, it has been very difficult not to spend every day worrying about where you are going to sleep and if there will be anything to eat when you get there. 

Perhaps the lesson for us was to trust that the Camino will provide.  

On the Camino pilgrimage routes, pilgrims often repeat the phrase “the Camino provides” which is a reminder that the journey offers what we most need, often in unexpected ways. For centuries, this sentiment has been at the heart of the pilgrimage: generosity, simplicity, and trust in the kindness of strangers. Yet in recent years, that spirit seems to be shifting.

As one pilgrim recently remarked on the Via de la Plata, “the Camino now only provides if you have money, or a Mastercard.” Increasingly, the journey feels shaped less by hospitality and shared experience, and more by economics. The humble albergue bunk that once offered a roof, a meal, and a sense of community for a modest price now costs what a private room did a decade ago. A bottle of wine that only a few years back could be shared for two euros has climbed to ten or even fifteen.

It isn’t simply the rising cost that changes the experience, but also the attitude that seems to come with it. Many albergues today lean toward expectation rather than acceptance, toward providing WiFi, digital check-ins, and all the modern distractions of daily life. While these conveniences meet the demands of contemporary travellers, they also draw the Camino further from its roots in simplicity, reflection, and connection.

This makes finding the Camino spirit more challenging, at least for us, and when we experience a relaxing and reflective day like today, it makes us unusually grateful.

Still, the Camino spirit has not disappeared; it has simply become something we must seek with more intention. It may not always be found in the albergue or in the price of a meal, but rather in the laughter of fellow pilgrims, the small act of sharing food on the trail, or the quiet rhythm of walking through ancient landscapes. The heart of the Camino remains in the rhythm of footsteps, in the hospitality of rural villages, in conversations that bridge languages, and in the moments of grace that arrive unannounced.

Perhaps this is the deeper lesson for modern pilgrims: that the Camino, like life, is always changing. If it no longer provides in the same material ways, it challenges us to look for provision in other forms…in resilience, in gratitude, and in connection. The Camino still provides, but what it offers now may be less about what can be bought and more about what can be discovered when we walk with open eyes and open hearts.

Tonight, it is the wonderful opportunities that we have had to embrace slow travel, peaceful moments, and great food that we are holding close to our hearts.  Today makes me feel that my hope has been restored.  We have 3 days of hiking to go to get to Santiago – we can do this!

See you on the Way!