The Land of My Fathers: A Son's Return to the Basque Country

The Pilgrimage

THE PILGRIMAGE A thousand years and more ago, my Basque ancestors erected the stone chapel that was our destination. The high peaks and crests ofthe Pyrenees Mountains abound in chapels and pagan monuments that serve in our day as ends for pilgrimages from the valley floors. In my father's high mountain province ofSoule, we had climbed a tortuous trail to a monument ofmystery, the Chapel ofthe Madeleine. There is a Christian altar there now whose origin can be explained, but there is also an almost indecipherable stone marker inscribed in Latin letters. The shrine is dedicated to Heraus, the Basque Goddess ofthe Red Dust. Legend has it that Basque warriors worshipped at her shrine before battle. Nothing else is known about her. When Christianity finally managed to replace paganism , the stone chapels were renamed after saints. The mountain crests became the road to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. Along this road, pilgrims could take shelter in comparative safety from Basque brigands who had moved down to the valleys below. It took a long time for the Basques to exchange their symbolic paganism for Christian worship, and vestiges ofit still remain. Another pilgrimage, to the Chapel ofSaint-Sauveur 40 high on the mountain above the valley where we were living, was for what is called the Shepherds' Mass. Once each summer, shepherds come to the Mass from their little stone huts lying in sheltered pockets near where their sheep are grazing. Villagers, mostly women and children , make up the procession from the villages below, giving the pilgrimage a holiday and picnic air. Even black-shawled grandmothers lined the route, hardly impeding the pace ofthe procession. Children, for whom the long climb was a lark, gamboled in front. They carried backpacks and shoulder slings filled with bread and cheese, sausage and wine, for the picnic that would follow the Mass. Only a few ofthe village men, mostly shopkeepers, made the seven-mile trek. When we reached the first turn in the trail, we could look down on the white villages on the green valley floor. And directly across from us was one ofEurope's last oak forests ofconsequence, lraty. Oaks mixed with chestnut and birch trees created a forest so thick that it resembled a green mound that wound down like a waterfall into the grassy ravines. The divisions between forest and grassland were as sharply etched as ifthey had been cut by a razor. Above the timberline , grass flowed unbroken over the mountain barrier between France and Spain, tipping onto a great rock face opposite from us like a monk's tonsure. Low-hanging clouds hung in wreaths across that face on the mountain. The Chapel ofSaint-Sauveur came in sight, nestling in a depression with its back almost flush against the mountain. It was a structure oflittle round stones from creek beds and sharp-edged stones from rocky ledges, all fitted together. Over the centuries, lichen had formed against the walls, giving a greenish cast to the grayness of the stones. Shepherds began appearing from their own chosen routes down the grassy slopes above the timberline, where their flocks grazed on the summer feed. There were a few moments before the Shepherds' Mass was to begin. The shepherds gathered in little groups, smoking hand-rolled cigarettes ofstrong black tobacco from which the smoke rose in spirals. They visited with each other, catching up with what had happened ofimportance in their isolated little domains on the great mountain. Once, the priest-a rotund and jolly Friar Tuck-moved through the groups with joking humor. There was no uniformity at all in the shepherds' dress. One man had on a thick wool shirt buttoned to the neck and covered with a brown coat. Another shepherd had on an old striped suit with high lapels. It was so worn that one had to assume it had belonged to his father and probably his father's father. Black coats and brown coats and mismatched pants made up the dress ofthe others. They shared only two things among them. One was sturdy black shoes with thick soles. The other was a shared discomfort at having to dress up for the Mass. A tinny bell sounded in the belfry, signaling the beginning ofMass. Last puffs ofcigarettes were taken and the butts dropped to the moist earth. The two steps from the ground into the balcon where the men would sit were made ofstone...