Setting the Scene

The village of El Rocio is located in the Doňana National Park, a haven for wildlife, particularly in the Spring and Autumn migrations . Doňana accounts for 125 resident and 125 migratory bird species, including flamingos, herons, egrets, vultures and black kites. The park consists of marismas (marshes) formed by the tributaries of the mighty Rio Guadalquivir. Sand dunes are blown inland at a rate of 6 metres per year, and when the dune sand reaches the marismas, it is washed down to the sea for the cycle to repeated over and over again. This also explains why El Rocio is built on sand, with its wide streets and huge squares. The village has a touch of the Wild West about it, with its sandy streets rutted with the tracks of wagons and carts and hoof prints rather than tyre marks, although vehicles with special passes do drive around with difficulty, sometimes getting “bogged” in the sand.

Its streets are lined with rows of buildings with verandahs ,most of which stand empty during the year. But this is no ghost town, as the houses are all well maintained. Most of them belong to the 90 or so hermandades (brotherhoods) of pilgrim revellers, who converge on El Rocio every Pentecost in one of Europe’s most amazing spectacles.

The Romeria del Rocio

Like most of Spains holiest images, Nuestra Senora del Rocio (the Virgin), also known as La Blanca Paloma (White Dove) has legendary origins. Back in the 13th Century, as the story goes, a hunter from the village of Almonte found the Virgin in a tree in the marismas. Taking the Virgin with him....as one does....., he stopped to doze on the way home, but the Virgin made her own way back to the tree. Before long, a chapel was built on the spot, and Pilgrims were making their way there each year.

In the 17th & 18th Centuries, Hermanadads (Brotherhoods) began forming in nearby towns to make the annual pilgrimage to El Rocio at Pentecost (Whitsun), the seventh weekend after Easter. By 1960, there were 32 Hermanadads, and since then, the Romeria del Rocio has mushroomed into a gigantic festive cult that attracts over 1million people from all over Spain and beyond. There are now well over 90 Hermanadads, some made up of several thousand men and women, and they still travel to El Rocio as they have always done, on foot, on horseback, and in gaily decorated covered wagons pulled by cattle, horses or mules, camping along the way. Those travelling from the East, such as those from Seville (Triana – the gypsy quarter), cross the mighty Rio Guadalquivir at Sanlucar de Barrameda in boats, and then cross the Doňana National Park.

Solemn is the last word you would use for this quintessentially Andalucian event. The people from the Hermanadads dress up in their Andalucian costumes, the men with their smart grey suits with striped trousers and sombrero, and the women in their brightly coloured flamenco dresses. They sing, dance, drink, laugh and romance their way to El Rocio. Hundreds of thousands of “rocieros de fin de semana” converge on the village by every other mode of transport imaginable, pushing the total number up to well over 1 million.

Many of the Hermanadads reach El Rocio on the Friday, but some of the big local ones such as Triana and Sanlucar de Barrameda arrive through the Park on the Saturday. Each pay their respects to the Virgen del Rocio in the Ermita (Church), which takes most of the day. On Sunday, there is an official open air service in one of the main squares, and in the early hours of the Monday, things come to an ecstatic climax, by which time, the senses of over 1 million people have been stretched by at least 40 hours of little sleep and a lot of alcohol.

Young men from the Hermanadad of Almonte, the nearest town to El Rocio, which claims the Virgen as its own, carry her shoulder high from the Ermita and into the waiting crowd. Violent struggles ensue, as members from all the other Hermanadads literally battle with the Almonte lads for the honour of carrying La Paloma Blanca (White Dove/Virgin). With everyone trying to get within touching distance, the crush and chaos is immense and very dangerous, but somehow, good humour prevails. After an hour or so of the “battle”, things quieten down, and the Virgen is carried round to all 90 odd of the Hermanadad buildings, which takes at least 12 hours, with the Virgen finally being returned to the Ermita on Monday afternoon