Thousands Take Part in Annual Good Friday Pilgrimage to Chimayó

NAMBE— It was bumper-to-bumper traffic by 9 a.m. Friday as walkers and their "shuttle drivers" turned east from U.S. 84/285 onto N.M. 503 in the yearly pilgrimage to El Santuario de Chimayó.

Like river rafters leaving their cars in different pickup locations, most walkers had carefully thought out their strategies.

Donna Montoya, 40, a commercial loan officer, was walking with her best friend, Jolene Pino, 35, a hairdresser. Both are from Albuquerque. "My mom and my aunts will drive up ahead," said Montoya, planning to meet them at a point about 5 miles ahead.

Montoya said the walk is a family tradition. "It's about being thankful for everything we have," she said. "We cry, we laugh, we talk about our lives."

The two, who had started walking at the junction, figured they had enough time to make the roughly 12-mile walk to Chimayo and get back in time to get to Sandia Casino for a late lunch with their families.

"It might sound funny to go to a casino, but we enjoy it," said Montoya.

Matt Sanchez, 35, a handyman in Albuquerque, was banking on the day's spirit of generosity to find a way back. "Once we reach the church, we'll hitch a ride in the back of somebody's pickup," said Sanchez, who was on his third pilgrimage. His son, Matthew, 11, a student at Bel-Air Elementary in Albuquerque, was walking to Chimayo for the first time.

"When I was his age," Sanchez said, "I walked with my parents, too." Sanchez was carrying a 5-foot cross he had made of peeled pine. He planned to leave it at the santuario.

The two had joined in with Marty Esquibel, 52, a retired police officer from Gallup, who was on crutches, recovering from foot surgery. Esquibel was walking for his six-month-old granddaughter, Jada Lynn, who died recently.

Not far down the road, Marianita Davey, 55, had set up a stand, as she does every year, and was giving away 700 egg burritos, 2,000 "hope" rocks and a printed poem for everyone. "I've given away 52,000 rocks of hope," said Davey, who grew up in Pojoaque but now lives in Santa Fe. "This is my 12th year."

The rocks symbolize the cocaine she used to free-base, said Davey, who almost killed herself with an overdose eight years ago. She paints the word "hope" and five black dots on the end of each rock to represent the toes of a footprint, explaining it in her giveaway poem: "As I look to the ground there's a stone, a stone shaped as a footprint. I understand I'm not alone."

Stopping to talk to a walker, Davey said, "The only kind of rock we're 'hepped on' today is the rock of hope."

Davey prayed with Esquibel as he came slowly walking by on his crutches, saying, "We are dancing with joy and happiness, Lord."

Just past Sacred Heart Church in Nambé, Rod Purves of California, and his dog, Maurice, were drawing a crowd with a 14-foot-tall pine cross Purves had rigged onto a wheeled contraption.

Purves takes crosses throughout various parts of the country, asking those who are against abortion to sign their names.

"This is Cross No. 5," said Purves, who plans to take all the crosses to Washington, D.C., and lay them against the wall around the White House.

Eliseo Aguirre Jr., 13, a student at Belen Middle School, signed his name on the cross. "I signed it for God," he said, "but I'm against abortion."

His father, Eliseo Aguirre, 34, said the family has done the walk for the past three years. "We sit by the stream at the church," said Aguirre. "We buy a cross along the way, bless it in the stream and then I give it to a family member."

At a nearby shortcut off the main route, members of the Santa Fe Sheriff's Posse were resting on their horses atop "La Cruz" hill, where a massive metal cross sits. Ray Rael, 58, has volunteered with the posse for about 8 years. "Before that, I always did this walk," he said. "That cross used to be made of wood, but at some point, someone put a metal one up there."

Rosaries, pieces of cloth, a cowboy hat and a red rose were placed at the base of the cross.

As the crew reminisced about a Good Friday snowstorm several years ago, Justin Wingerd, 20, a sophomore at the University of New Mexico, jogged up the hill and knelt in front of the cross, leaning forward to put his forehead on the ground.

"This is my fifth year," said Wingerd afterward, who was listening to the New Testament on his headphones. "I'm only in Mark ... where Jesus is being crucified."

Despite the juniper-laden wind— not pleasant for the allergy sufferers— and the many miles to Chimayó, there was no chance for walkers to be hungry. Stands of free food and bottled water were scattered along the route, as were groups of porta-potties.

And for those with a sweet tooth, a couple of ice cream carts— including La Reyna del Sur, all the way from Coors Road in Albuquerque— ran along the route.

Once at the santuario, the atmosphere was even livelier, with stands selling roasted ears of corn, small containers of traditional sprouted wheat panocha and big plastic bags of deep-fried churros.

But the purpose of the pilgrimage was not forgotten. The walkers had come for the special blessing the santuario and its famed healing dirt are believed to hold.

Young mother Maria Lopez, of Albuquerque, walked out of the small chapel with a plastic bag of dirt from its legendary never-ending supply.