Molinaseca to Villafranca del Bierzo, 31km 

With support crew still in tow, I set off this morning for Ponferrada, a lovely Spanish town apparently famous for its Templar Castle. 

The walk down from Molinaseca was, of course, a delightful combination of picturesque (read: completely dilapidated) little hamlets and cute little farm tracks. Seemed like no time at all that we arrived in Ponferrada and had the breakfast of champions (tortilla, fresh OJ and green tea) in a little cafe by the castle before it was time to go our separate ways. 

Have to say, the few hours after we separated were very tough. First and foremost, had just said goodbye to my boyfriend for another couple of weeks – bad form at the best of times. Secondly, I was suddenly struggling with the weight of my pack.  Ian had bought a few additional necessities for me – trainers for bad feet days, a block of salted caramel chocolate (much appreciated, despite him eating most of it yesterday) and a few additions to the first aid kit (including Lorna’s very thoughtful addition of some indulgent foot cream … oh thank you genius lady!) – but somehow my head had turned this into a couple of concrete slabs that were weighing on my mind and my shoulders from the moment I left Ponferrada. 

Thirdly I was slightly confused/miffed/jealous of the fact that Ian and Brian were jumping in their hire car and hitting Santiago in a matter of hours. I still have around ten days to go at best guess, so very hard to get my head around the fact that someone could drive there in an afternoon.  Definitely started up a bit of mental angst and the big question of what the hell was I playing at with this Camino malarkey? 

More to the point though, the road out of Ponferrada was awful. A hot, dusty tour of a series of loud and dusty outlying suburbs and satellite villages.  Now don’t get me wrong, I am absolutely delighted that Ian and Brian got to experience the best the Camino had to offer, but there was part of me during this awful few hours that kind-of wished they had had a little taste of the crap bits, just so they knew it wasn’t all champagne and skittles. 

So yes, safe to say I had my grump on for a good few hours.  But, of course, whatever you need, the Camino provided and after about my fifth soulless concrete jungle, I randomly happened upon a wine co-op that was offering a pilgrim special of wine tasting with snacks for only €1.50.  Now I am not usually one for drinking during the day (particularly with a good 10km or more to go) but figured if the Shorts could do it, why not?  And so I broke one of my cardinal rules and popped in for a quiet bevvie …and when I opened the door and was blasted with a delightful combination of air conditioning and Abster’s favourite Katy Perry action, I figured it was obviously a sign it was the way forward (hear me roar!)

 And of course, when I emerged half an hour later, the scenery immediately transformed into a series of rolling hills patch worked with vineyards and dotted with quaint stone buildings. Suddenly all was well with the world again – so much so that with mojo restored, I bypassed several early out options and made it all the way to the delightful hillside town of Villafranca. 

It was late by the time I reached the city centre and I had just about hit breaking point (water supply empty and feet on the rampage) so decided I needed a little moment to regroup on a bench to work out where I was going to stay for the night. Of course, just at that point I hear a slightly camp ‘Nooooo!’ from the other side of the square and up pops a very relaxed looking Canadian John with two Irish gents in tow. Of course I then felt obliged to join them for a rather large beer. Which of course turned into several rather large beers. Which of course turned into dinner. Which ultimately resulted in me having to do a Cinderella-esque dash (exchange glass slippers for smelly boots knotted around my neck to try and get into one of the albergues before all doors were locked at 10pm. Pleased to report I managed it  by a slightly annoyed hospitero’s whisker. 

That, my good friends, is me officially throwing caution to the wind. Feeling slightly disorganised as a result, but all part of the fun I guess! 

 Rabanal del Camino to Molinaseca, 26km

Such a strange experience this morning to have my ‘real world’ here as part of the Camino. 

Ian and Brian arrived slightly later than planned last night after a slight map-related detour (to be fair, Rabanal is smaller than the smallest speck on any decent map) so as I was pretty much ready to eat my own arms off by that stage, they wee ushered straight through to the restaurant and the joy that is the pilgrims menu.  

Was a little shaken by the changes to my routine this morning (oh the challenges of the apace afforded by a nice hotel room!) but still managed to set off at around 7.30 and head for the hills while the two Camino-ettes sorted logistics with both their car and their alarm clocks (!) 

After a glorious hour of climbing through mist-drenched hills, I met up with the support crew for breakfast (oddly enough, a bacon buttie while sitting under an SAS flag signed ‘your friends from Colchester) Brian and I then walked the next hour up to the highest point on the Camino, the Cruz de Ferro.  This is the point where pilgrims from all around the world place a pebble or stone from their home to mark the challenges of their journey and absolve them of their burdens. I was expecting it to be quite a moving place, which I guess it was, but I hadn’t expected it to be about two metres from a relatively busy road and frequented by the dreaded ‘car tourists’ as  much as it was by weary pilgrims. Still, I did enjoy taking a moment to place my stones, as well as the shells of the Bedford family, in prime position so expecting they are all waking up this morning feeling a lot more at peace with the world now that their sins have all been absolved (well, most of them- their is only so much a shell can do!) 

 Not long after the Cruz we met up with Ian, and am pleased to say the Camino turned on a spectacular afternoon for my two guests – we were very high up so had stunning views down spectacular valleys, with great patches of gorse, heather and bracken colouring the mountains every shade of green, yellow and purple. After a misty morning, the sun came out to play (as evidenced by the pink foreheads of the Short family) and we spent the afternoon carefully picking our way down steep, rocky paths through picture perfect villages (where Ian found a good half-dozen fixer-upper projects) to the stunning riverside town of Molinaseca.

Have to say, it was great fun to have some familiar faces on board for the day. Ian’s ridiculous gaggery reached new heights and Brian had many a good story and observation to help while away the hours. Disappointed to report that my first opportunity for a public display of walking stick baton twirling fell very short of expectations, but hoping I now have the performance anxiety under control. There were probably a few more pit stops than I am used to having and *gasp* beer at lunchtime … but what the hell, it is Sunday and I now have just over 200km to go, so timely reminder to lighten up a little!

So all in all, thumbs up to the world’s best Camino support crew – feeling very honoured to have shared your company today and looking forward to another bit of support for the first hour or so tomorrow. 

 Astorga to Rabanal del Camino, 20km

If I haven’t talked much about the food on the camino, it is probably because this most definitely isn’t a gastronomic tour of Spain.  Yes, the occasional drop of wine I have is fantastic (I never want to drink anything other than Rioja again!) but for the most part, the food is chosen for either portability or proximity. 

I have got into a bit of a routine of leaving relatively early on an empty stomach and then stopping for breakfast an hour or two down the track. This is usually some combination of bread, tortilla espanol (potato omelette), fresh squeezed orange juice and green tea (stocked by a surprising number of backwater bars) and usually sets me up nicely for the rest of the day’s walk to be finished on fruit, nuts and the occasional row of dark chocolate. Oddly enough, this is a whole lot less than I would be eating sitting in an office for the afternoon, but seems to be all I need. 

For dinner, if I am cooking (most albergues have a very basic kitchen) it will be something very basic like pasta and a tin of sardines in tomato sauce (go those omega threes).  But for the most part, I have been taking advantage of the pilgrims menus on offer just about everywhere. These offer outrageous value for money – usually three courses with wine, water and bread  for €10!  They tend to include a choice of two or three starters (usually rice, pasta or salad), two or three mains based on whatever meats are available and usually a fairly basic desert which, believe it or not, I have taken to passing on most nights.  

So while I am consuming the calories I need to get by, for the most part it is pretty simple, basic food and not much to get overly excited about.  There have been a couple of exceptions – the hamburger I had with Silvana in Burgos that had us groaning in delight, the chocolate con churros that I had with Dominic in Leon that will probably go down as my most intense chocolate fix of all time … and now the green smoothie I had for breakfast in a small town called Murias de Rechivaldo, just outside of Astorga. 

From the outside, the cafeteria looks more or less like any of the slightly more modern ones I have come across along the way, with the exception of the small sign explaining that they cook food direct from the farm.  Once inside though, the smell and warmth of the place – not to mention the outstanding display of tortillas, sandwiches and pastries – takes you to another world. The lady that runs it has walked the Camino five times and is intent on nourishing not just the stomachs, but also the souls of everyone who enters. She has a very direct, motherly gaze that instantly makes you feel like she is your new best friend and fairy godmother all rolled into one. I don’t think there are any recipes going on, but she did throw together the most amazing green smoothie for whoever aanted some while I was there. I am sure there were about twenty ingredients went into a supersized blender, which are going to sound ridiculous when I list just a few of them out, but trust me, the combined impact was stupendous: apple, kiwi, avocado, mango, flax seeds, raisins, almonds, frozen cherries, fresh peas, ginger, radish, almond milk, a dash of ‘fresh water straight from the mountains’ and a herb I haven’t heard of, but which is called lion’s teeth in Spanish, and which is apparently good for the kidneys.  So very, very good. 

The walk from then on was relatively straightforward, pretty short and quite lovely. The sun was out again (in full force) and the path went across a very flat, barren plain (still with bright orange soil) with sweeping views up to some pretty special snow-capped mountains. The last hour or so onvolved a pretty decent climb which is set to continue up through the mountains tomorrow morning. 

I stopped pretty early today as I am – very excitingly – meeting Ian and his dad for a day’s walking tomorrow (their Camino-ette as Ian has been calling it!) As a result, I have booked us into a relatively posh hostal – by which I mean we have our own rooms (didn’t think they were ready for the albergue bunk beds) and have had a chilled couple of hours waiting for them to arrive … by which I actually mean having an outrageously long shower and an equally impressive nanna nap. I had planned on a bit of primping and preening before seeing my boyfriend again, but realised that with the girlie tools in my bag, this amounts to bringing my hair wash forward a day and lashing out with the last of my pawpaw cream (reinforcements on the way) to try and get rid of the slight sandpaper feel from the parts of my back that my pack sits on. Am sure he will be suitably impressed. 

Am quite touched at the effort they have gone to to track me down in the middle of nowhere just for the weekend, so here’s hoping the Camino lives up to their expectations. 

 Villar de Mazarife to Astorga, 32km

After the slightly industrial, modern roadside feel of the past week or so, I finally feel like I am finally back on the real camino today. Wide open spaces and unspoiled countryside – fingers crossed it stays that way for a while. 

I left Mazarife early doors this morning with Canadian John which made for entertaining – if a bit heavy – chat for the first few hours. But after breakfast (think I drink my tea too slowly) we parted ways and I was flying solo once again … feet and boots having come to an amicable arrangement (at least for the moment) and life feeling pretty bright and shiny. 

After a few quaint little villages this morning, it was back into the countryside and I spent the afternoon walking on a wilderness track, not seeing a car or another person (with the single exception of a brilliantly hand-made statue in the middle of nowhere that I am pretty sure was supposed to be a pilgrim, but could equally have been a homage to Elvis). 

The skies were quite intensely grey with the threat of rain most of the day … which is a bit of a shame as I know this stretch would have been stunning had the sun been out. 

However, the most random surprise of the day came about 6km outside of Astorga where a modern day hermit called David has set up a little pilgrim sanctuary in the middle of nowhere.  He has just completely dropped out of society – sleeping on a little bench he has built and putting together a little ‘donations only’ style collection of random refreshments (I had a great avocado) while he works on his life’s mission – carving a little dream garden out of the desert-like surrounds.  

He greeted me with a deeply heartfelt hug (both lovely and slightly disconcerting) and promptly sat down to chat with me about his refreshingly out there view on life before giving me a tour of the garden of dreams. He has been at it for six years, and although progress is pretty slow (every pilgrim to come past gets his absolute attention for as long as they want it) am pretty sure in another six years time (or maybe ten) it is going to be something very special indeed. He eventually sent me on my way with another hug and a ring of his pilgrim bell … definitely with a spring in my step and a smile on my face. 

Which of course was just what I needed because two minutes down the road the heavens opened and it was poncho time for the first time in a couple of weeks.  Still, I had enough of a buzz from my little break in dreamland to keep me focused on the spires of Astorga Cathedral and to brave the rain for another hour or so till I found my way to a delightful old albergue where the inhabitants are now all sprawled on big couches in front of an open fire while a quite unusual gent with an amazing voice serenades us all.  Very nice end to the day indeed. 

 Arcahueja to Villar de Mazarife, 31km

So until now I haven’t regretted any of the choices I have made about when and where to stop, but last night was a bit of a blooper. I was walking with Amelie who was quite determined to push through the last 8km to Leon, but I decided to play it safe and stop at  Arcahueja.  The albergue was slightly grubby, my food was decidedly average and I was the only one there aside from a Spanish couple who made it clear they wanted to be by themselves. 

So this morning when I walked into Leon and found it to be absolutely stunning, I had even more cause to kick myself for not cracking on. Even worse when I randomly bumped into Dominic (who I was sure was a day or two behind me) and he regaled me, over chocolate and churros, with stories of the great night he had had the night before with about a dozen other people – most of whom I had met along the way.  Still, my decision, so have to live with it. 

That aside though, Leon is absolutely lovely – beautiful architecture and a lovely vibe of Spanish hustle and bustle. It also has quite a arty feel with a few nice looking galleries and some stunning public sculptures. My absolute favourite of all that I have seen so far on this trip was a sculpture of a resting pilgrim, sandals off and face upturned to the sun just in front of the amazing parador hotel.  I felt such a connection with this sculpture, I plopped myself down beside it (backpack and all) and assumed a similar position of rest/sheer exhaustion.  I probably sat there for about ten minutes without moving, only waking up to the sound of about twenty cameras taking my picture as a guided tour group went past. That’s me, immortalised on the camino. 

The interesting thing about walking through bigger cities like Leon is that you don’t only see the tourist-friendly city centres, you also get to soak up the much less glamorous suburbs. I passed through quite an industrial area and then an area that reminded me about the whole world of retail I had completely forgotten about.  The small villages I have been passing through have had nothing like lighting shops, stationery stores, kitchen showrooms and shops specialising in power tools (I had to stop and ogle that one) so it was a pretty intense reminder of how much of a bubble I have been living in the last few weeks. I even popped into a proper size supermarket for a few basic essentials and ended up walking out with about three or four things I had no need of – and absolutely no desire to carry … though to be fair, my afternoon hummus snack went down a storm!

After I had cleared the ‘burbs (about two and a half hours outside the city) I had a choice of continuing on the senda, or taking a more remote option. Absolute no brainer in my books – and pleased to report I didn’t see another car or person for the rest of the afternoon. 

 The landscape I was walking through was very barren and reminded me of central Ausralia –  the bright red dust of the road the only slash of colour against a very grey and black landscape.  But with a backdrop of silver clouds, it was actually quite pretty in a thank-God-I-am-not-on-the-senda-anymore kind of way. The only excitement came when I sat down on a concrete block on the side of the road at one point and inadvertently gave the call to arms to an enormous ant colony. Within two minutes of sitting down I found the first one on my shoulder and within three minutes I had my shirt off, whooping and yelling and hopping about like a loon as I attempted to swat about a hundred of them off my body. At this point, very glad I hadn’t seen another human being for a good three hours.

Pleased to report I am much happier with the albergue I am in tonight. I walked in to find Canadian John sipping wine at a table in the bar and have just finished a very civilised meal with him, Helga from Austria who I first met a few days ago (she has a brilliant way of telling the story about her constant attempts to explain that she is from Austria, not Australia: ‘no, no kangaroos, just Mozart’) and a few other random pilgrims. Ready for an early night tonight though – guessing it is the exhausting city action, but am absolutely shattered. 

 El Burgo Ranero to Arcahueja, 29km

Very (very!) little of interest to report in terms of today’s walking. I would estimate 98% was spent on the boring snoring sendas and the rest in passing through a few nondescript villages. Oh, and two rather nice bridges. That’s it. In camino terms, but of a ho hum days walking. 

Luckily though, the social side of things is going strong. It’s funny (or not really) how the quality of the albergue is really judged by who you get to hang out with for the evening. Last nights digs were fairly basic, but I really landed on my feet in terms of my housemates for the night – a group of very boisterous, but remarkably generous Italians including two chefs who used the very basic kitchen facilities to cook up what was possibly my best meal of the camino so far.  To describe it as spaghetti with tomato sauce doesn’t do it justice, nor does it even come close to capturing the celebratory air they managed to create around our long trestle table as we passed the wine around and were ‘force fed’ second helpings by the lovely Teresa. 

All going well until a couple of the guys decided to light the woodburner in the main room.  Pretty clear from the word go that they had no idea what they were doing, but there was a fair amount of machismo going down, so it wasn’t for me to jump in and give direction.  Until, of course, one of the guys lathered the already smouldering fire with a splash of gasoline, and then despite several cries of ‘nooooo’ reached in there to spark it up with his cigarette lighter.  Cue major fireball, instant hair removal and a miracle the guy isn’t in a hospital somewhere with third degree burns! 

My other – very different paced – new friend from last night is Peter, a 60 year old Icelandic sheep farmer who is doing the camino on a mountain bike. Have to admit, I wasn’t overly keen to chat with him at first, but as the only person in the albergue who could actually converse with him in somewhat broken English (his, not mine) I ended up feeling bad and having a chat with him. 

Of course he turned out to be the most interesting guy in the room – his farm in Iceland actually has a couple of enormous ice falls in winter and has become a bit of a Mecca for ice climbers all over the world. He actually had never heard of the camino until a group of Spanish climbers came to visit him and couldn’t climb because it was too warm.  They spent the whole week talking about the camino, and despite never having left Iceland before – or ridden a bike in about 20 years – he decided this was the thing for him. And have to say he is loving it so much, his excitement is completely contagious. Poor form on my behalf for not wanting to make the effort to chat! 

Anyway, though the walk has been quite boring today, there have been plenty of path side chitchat – Peter riding by in his sheeps wool cardi just before sunrise, various Italians swinging past to relive last night’s escapades, Canadian John popping up for a couple of hours tandem walking and an unexpected reunion with the still-delightful Amelie. Fun times indeed. 

On another positive note, I am hesitant to tempt fate and say that I have turned a corner with my feet.  But I will say that for the first time in recent history, my boots went on without complaint this morning. Whether it was my lavishly fabric softened socks or the TLC I have been lavishing on both Lefty and Righty (my two newest besties), today took our relationship to a whole new level … we are all still slightly tentative with each other, but here’s hoping today is a sign of good things to come. 

 San Nicolas de Real Camino to El Burgo Ranero, 27km 

Today would have to go down as one of the prettiest starts to a day I have had so far.  If I thought the scenery was lovely this yesterday, you can imagine the cramps I was getting in my photo-taking finger when the sky was just brushed with pink and the rising sun cast a stunning orange light over the landscape. Just loveliness.  Then rounding a corner to even more loveliness.  Gush, gush, gush. 

My first goal of the day was Sahagun, a town (or maybe even a city) that was both a lot bigger than I expected and a lot lovelier. It seemed to have a beautiful old church on just about every corner and it was an absolute delight to take my morning tortilla and tea overlooking the main square and watching the locals go about their business.  From what I can gather, most of the more mature gentlemen are sent off to fetch fresh bread at around 9.30 every morning and most use it as an excuse to pop in for a quick fortifying shot. Got to admire their style. 

After Sahagun, things took a turn for the decidedly mundane and I can probably best describe the afternoon walk in cycling speak – clocking up junk miles. 

 The path all afternoon was one of the sendas – recently made camino paths that my guidebook describes as soulless errors of national development agencies …and not sure I can top that for a description. The paths are generally about a metre from the nearest road and I suspect were put in as an add-on clause to whatever contract was awarded to build said road.  So path of least resistance was definitely the approach taken in putting these in. For the most part they have no shade, no bends and not a great deal to look at. They do offer the occasional rest area – though the ones I past today, comprising of block concrete tables and chairs in the middle of a field of dead grass, did little to suggest anything to do with relaxation.  Still, when the sun is out, the Beatles are playing a live concert on your head (All you Need is Love) and you have some walking poles to twirl, sometimes the crap scenery just doesn’t matter. 

And when you are met at the end of your journey by a hospitero who plies you with wine, ham and fabric softener (oh the luxury!) just because he had a great holiday in Australia ten years ago, then you need to chalk this up as another good day … even in spite of a small incident involving a blister filled with toothpaste rather than antibiotic cream (mental note for future – no wine before feet are well tended!) 

Carrion de Los Condes to San Nicolas del Real Camino, 32km

So I was expecting the worst this morning, a 17km stretch straight up with nothing to break it up and feet that were plotting a bloody coup.  But today has, in fact, turned out to be surprisingly delightful. 

Whether it was Dominic’s magic cream, the antibiotics or just a day of rest, my feet have put in very few complaints today.  I have to confess to procrastinating for about 15mins rather than put my boots on this morning, but when I finally manned up to the task, we all seemed to get along OK. 

Even the 17km slog wasn’t too bad.  There was just enough breeze to keep the wheat fields rippling and give me something to look at and in a strange kind of way – because I had set it up for being so awful – it just seemed to fly by and before I knew it, I was settled in a cafe on the other side with a man-sized chunk of tortilla and a green tea … all served up by what may well be the happiest cafe owner on the planet.  Found myself grinning like a loon when I looked at myself in the toilet mirror (and not just because I saw a hint of re-emerging cheekbones!) 

Beyond that first stretch, the countryside has gone back to the beautiful rolling hills we had in La Rioja, but now with the occasional fields of dark orange soil setting off the deep greens of new wheat growth. Add a bright blue sky and the occasional strategically planted tree and I have probably done around forty paintings in my head this afternoon. 

Have worked out that distances on the camino aren’t just relative in terms of how much energy it takes to cover them, but also in terms of how they are interpreted along the way.  Two days ago I passed a sign that read ‘Santiago 401km’ and yesterday another that said ‘455kms to Santiago’ – slightly dispiriting to say the least (and not the first time this has happened!)  Still, having consulted my guidebook, the sheets provided by the pilgrim’s office when I started and a bit of random Googling, I am relatively confident in saying that today I passed the halfway point.  Think that reassures me and freaks me out in equal measures, but there you go. 

Have realised the mental challenge in this is actually about getting out of bed (early) every day for five weeks in a row and doing exactly the same thing, rain hail or shine.  Have to admit yesterday I was ready to pack it in – I was missing my home, my boyfriend, my kitchen and even my job (yep, it was that dire)

 I couldn’t get my head around the fact that I still had more than two weeks to go and was convinced I was going to be in pain for every one of them. There was serious consideration given to calling it a day and allocating the rest of my leave to something that normal people do – ideally involving a pool and some cocktails!

But today I am back on board with the whole camino action … have learned that if I take the time to look after my feet and myself, this is actually an amazing privilege and a jolly good adventure.

So at the end of a beautiful day’s walking I am sitting in a lovely sunny garden with a cold beer, tiny birds chirruping in the trees overhead and the smell of my dinner wafting out of the window. Nope, not much to complain about really! 

Villamenteros de la Campo to Carrion de Los Condes, 10km 

 

As I learned yesterday, there is quite a lot of distance between albergues in this part of Spain, so today I had the choice between walking 10km, or slogging it out for 27kms. 

Despite Dominic’s magic cream and expert ministrations, I had to face up to the fact that one of my blisters is infected and is looking quite nasty. So 10km was a bit of a no-brainer – especially as I had the opportunity for a lie-in (none of this out by 8am nonsense at the world’s most relaxed albergue!) 

I also knew that I couldn’t face wearing my boots today and as the 10km into Carrion was on a relatively well-maintained path, I was all set to walk it in my masseur sandals – not the best move ever, but needs must. 

However, in the spirit of ‘the camino provides’ I was just about to leave the albergue when I noticed someone had left a pair of walking sandals in the ‘take what you need and leave what you don’t’ box by the front door.  Yes, they were a size too big and yes, they still had the imprint of someone else’s footprint in them (ewwww!) but they were a hell of a lot more practical than what I had been planning … and with a pair of socks I could both make a fashion statement, pretend it was a hygienic option and give my blisters a bit of a break. Classy, huh? 

That aside, not much to report.  Long, straight, relatively flat path beside a road that only passed through one town on the way. I was following the lead of about five other pilgrims bypassing said town (and saving all of 500 metres) when a local guy stopped me with some rapid fire Spanish. To say he was suggesting I go and visit the village church is an understatement – more accurate to say I was berated for even considering walking past. 

So, full of ‘camino provides’ I took his advice and ended up spending about half an hour sitting in an absolutely stunning 12th century church listening to some pretty special music being piped through the soundsystem – no idea how to describe it other than it brought to mind a monastery full of monks and had me absolutely enchanted. OK, strange man on the street, you win. 

I am also in love with Carrion. Not only did it have a farmacia open on Easter Sunday (I am now the grateful owner of a tube of antibiotic cream), I am also staying in a beautiful old convent.  The nun that booked me in gave me the option of a private room with it’s own shower and *gasp* real towels, so I have had a delightful afternoon of soaking up the sun, napping and trying to fast track the healing process on my feet ready for another long march tomorrow. 

Itero de la Vena to Villamentero de Campos, 24km 

There is no getting around the fact that today’s walk was a bit of a struggle. 

The high plains continue and I have spent the day on long and impossibly straight dirt roads that seem to stretch on to eternity and beyond (and then a little further, just for good measure). Added to this was an icy cross wind that had my backpack and I hunched in a defensive position most of the day so as not to be spun around in imitation of a teenage mutant ninja turtle dance move. It was so windy I even had to strap my walking poles onto my bag for most of the day, which not only made things harder on my feet, but meant giving up my favourite straight road – training for the world baton twirling championships. Oh well, still plenty of time. 

In any case, by the time I had reached about 15km for the day I was not feeling particularly camino-tastic, but unfortunately albergues are few and far between in this neck of the woods (as is any accommodation for that matter).  

And then I hit the road from hell: 3.4 km of dead straight dirt road with barely a tree or a bit of roadside scrub for any shade. I was tired, my blisters had started shouting at me with every step and I was walking at a snail’s pace.  Usually I walk between 3-6km an hour depending on terrain, weather conditions and general mojo, but that one 3.4km stretch took me almost two hours! 

I had also started talking to myself and think I may have gone a little crazy there for a while.  Just temporarily mind you. Thankfully nobody was around as I think it may have looked from the outside like one of those movie scenes where someone is staggering through the desert, gradually dying of thirst and becoming increasingly delusional (though I was, in fact,well fed and did have a decent load of water on board – but don’t want to spoil a good story now, do I?) 

As I finally hit the end of that stretch and regrouped in the first bit of protected shade I could find, I had two options – contine another 6km on similar roads, or take a little crossroad and walk alongside the main road for the same distance in the hope that the albergue 2km down the road would actually be open. Our little albergue cheat sheet did say it was closed Nov to April, but I was so ready to take a pint on the off-chance. 

The road won and the albergue wasn’t just open, it turned out to be the quirkiest little piece of hippy love in all of Spain.  There were cold beers, plate after plate of amazing olives, hammocks, rocking chairs, donkeys, dogs, ducks, turkeys, geese …  pretty much the entire cast of Old McDonald’s farm roaming wild about the bar. 

More importantly, it included some great company, both local – in the shape of Gerard, one of the customers sitting there enjoying the sunshine while his kids ran about chasing animals in the garden, and Alberto the ever-generous barman – and in terms of the only two other pilgrims I had the pleasure of sharing a room with – the delightful Amelie (who I had first met in Zubiri) and the equally lovely Dominic … who just happened to be a ‘socially qualified doctor’ (ie came from a family of medics) and who very generously set about trying to bring my feet back from the dead. 

 So after a rough day, it suddenly became happy happy time on the camino – beer, wine, great conversation, more olives than is probably healthy for one day and a fabulous dinner of tortilla and salad taken in front of an open fire.  

Even more special though was when Gerard (who had spent quite a lot of time in the states and was busy bonding with Dominic) invited us back to his house to meet his wife. They are in the midst of renovating three tiny 13th century houses into one amazing home, and as an architect, Gerard is doing most of it himself.  He had just that day finished the big open plan kitchen and dining area and his wife M (argh – cannot for the life of me remember her name) used their impressive new stove to cook us a cake for desert. They were both so lovely and welcoming and genuinely interested in each of us, it definitely has to go down in my books as one of the highlights of the trip so far. Not to mention overhearing M say (in Spanish) to her boisterous eleven year old at about half past ten: ‘You are all too loud. Take your little sister back to the bar to play, but make sure you are home before 11.30pm’ … file that one under things-you-will-never-hear-an-English-speaking-parent-say.