They walk carrying rosaries, folding chairs, cameras and wishes. Some walk from the most removed parts of the nation, some walk carrying giant crucifixes on their shoulders, some walk on their knees, but they all walk towards the same thing: “La Negrita” or the Virgin of Los Angeles.

They are the pilgrims who make up nearly half the population of Costa Rica and who journey to the basilica in Cartago every year on August 2nd.

This year, I joined them for 10.5 miles of their romería, a Spanish religious pilgrimage. The basilica in Cartago was built to honor a statue of the Virgin Mary found in a spring by an indigenous girl as she washed her family’s clothes. The young girl carried the image home, where it promptly disappeared two times, only to reappear in its original spot. On the third such reappearance, the girl declared that a church be built on that very site to honor the miracle. That church would become the most famous pilgrimage site in all of Costa Rica.

I began my walk in Tres Ríos, next to a highway sign that read “Cartago 17 km”. The correct way to town was impossible to miss, with a constant stream of pilgrims leading the way. As I stepped between the orange barricades set up to partially block traffic and create a safe path, I noticed that each group of walkers was in a different condition, some having just joined the crowd, others having already walked for hours or even days.

Along the way, vendors had set up shop, catering to the needs of the masses of people who had been walking on hot blacktop since early morning. Cold coconut water, rosaries, strawberries and sunglasses were all available for a price. But as the pitch of the road increased and the heat of the day intensified, some kind souls began handing out bags of water and juice for free. At one point we even passed a group blowing bubbles and offering free foot and leg massages to the weary pilgrims.

As enticing as a massage sounded, the most welcome roadside vendor had to be the meat-on-a-stick man. Grilling small pieces of skewered something on a Tico barbecue made from the rim of a car tire, the vendor was surrounded by a hungry crowd. At just 100 colones per stick, ravenous, sun-burnt walkers turned away carrying the skewers by the fistful.

Energized by free juice and cheap meat, I arrived in downtown Cartago after nearly four hours on the road. The crowds intensified, and I followed the surge through the streets. The town took on a carnival atmosphere with tents set up selling cotton candy and caramel apples.

I was there to see the basilica, and possibly catch a glimpse of “La Negrita”, so I continued to the square where thousands upon thousands of Central American Catholics, all having traveled to this spot in honor of the Virgin of Los Angeles, stood in the noonday sun, singing hymns and craning their necks to see the procession in front of the church.

From where I stood, I could see that the procession was led by a huge, intricate monstrance, a cross surrounded by a sunburst that glinted gold in the sun, followed by sisters in white, nuns in black and monks in flowing brown robes. Those watching and singing stood shoulder-to-shoulder holding cameras, crosses or children worn out from the journey.

The statue was impossible to get to, as both lines for entering the basilica, one for walking worshipers, the other for those entering on their knees, seemed endless. But the cheerful devotion and energy were evident even on the fringe of the multitudes where I watched, amazed at both the strength of the Costa Ricans’ faith, and at the strength of their legs.

Visiting Cartago? See our Cartago Travel Guide.