Day 1 “It could have been worse”
April 24th: St Jean Pied de Port to Roncesvalles (6 hr 45 min, 25km)
We were lucky enough to have executive drop-off service in St Jean Pied de Port courtesy of Jean Michel and Bernadette. Our first night we eased ourselves into the spirit of the Camino. And by the spirit of the Camino I mean sleeping in close proximity with others, sharing plumbing and using paper sheets and pillowcases.
Gite de la Compostelle was clean and the people friendly. I will reserve any value judgement until I have sampled a few more.
Sleep was hard to come by with lots of inter floor bathroom traffic. Robby and I were two of the guilty parties so it was hard to throw stones. On my 3 a.m. bathroom trip, I missed the last stair and there was some bonus crashing to add to the general thumping and flushing noises. I also read the clock wrong and started getting prepared at 3:00 a.m. I have deleted my comments to keep a PG rating.
The next morning we were on the road at 6:45 a.m., equipped with sandwiches and water for the day. We took the Val Carlos route which boasted an elevation gain of 700 meters and a distance of 24 km. The route was very pleasant, the weather was great and the route was not busy at all. We saw only one other walker and one cyclist.
We were excited to pass by the place which produces our favorite cheese!
Cheese making animals.
Looking fresh in the morning.
About halfway there.
Snack number two at 11 a.m.
Where we start to run out of steam.
It was a bit disheartening to read a road sign at our destination indicating that we STILL had 790 km to go. Here’s hoping that Spanish road sign makers are just very poor at math.
Tonight’s deluxe accommodation Casa de Los Beficiados did not disappoint. We went upscale to celebrate a hard first day. Our own room. Our own shower. Heaven.
We splurged on the pilgrim’s menu special for 19 euros. For that price we had an appetizer, salad, main, dessert, a bottle of water AND a bottle of wine. Awesome. It was early dinner and a wonderful night’s sleep.
Day 2: “Never plan the Next Day After a Few Drinks”
Roncesvalles to Larrasoana: 25 km (1,000 meters to 500 meters with some climbs in between)
The decision was made to blow past Zubiri the next day and end up in Larrasoana. This seemed like a spectacularly good idea as we sipped our second drink the evening before and congratulated ourselves on a successful first day. A booking was made and the deal was sealed.
The day started out misty with a light drizzle despite a forecast of fair weather. Being hardy northwesters, Robby had on shorts and a T-Shirt, and I the same with a light hoodie. We set off at 7:45 with a herd of folks heading out at the same time. Many had full-on rain gear: rain jacket, rain pants and one even sported leg gaiters. We tried not to chuckle as we strolled by.
There was naturally a big queue at the end of the first hill as the folks from fairer weather regions shed their first layers.
Unlike day one, day two was sprinkled with Basque villages that offered caffeine-starved pilgrims coffee and a snack.
The sun made its first appearance at 10 a.m. and out came the sunscreen.
It was about 15 km into it that we began discussing the potential flaws of planning the next day while clutching a cold one. This would surely never happen again.
Fast forward a few hours and we pulled into Zubiri for a quick snack. Tempting as it was, we chose not to partake in the Camino food truck we found on the way.
We were pointed towards Larrasoana by a helpful young fellow from Transylvania. We then continued to slog on in the sun and hit Casa Elita, tonight’s spot in Larrasoana at about 2:00.
Casa Elita is a small home with 2 rooms to rent with Elita living downstairs.
Sadly, the 2 bars in town were closed after we freshened up. And the closest restaurant was 1 km away. We therefore headed over to the supermercado down the road to see what we could buy. Like a magnet we discovered that the supermercado was an underground pub and restaurant. Buy your beer, wine and snacks and the owner will put it together for you on a plate. All served on the terrace decorated with pilgrim flags. Fantastic.
Luckily we brought our book and phones to plan our next day’s travel. Oh wait…
Day 3: Spanish Lessons:
Larrasoana to Cizur Mayor: 20 km, 5:00 hrs.
We ambled out of Casa Elita about 8:00 a.m. As you may have noted, we have been slouching in the departure time department . But as our landlady said, “the bread guy doesn’t even get here until 7:30!” Our protests were of course half-hearted.
A little while into the hike, Robby remembered the words of yesterday’s Supermercado host. “Be careful with the Chorizo, it will make its mark.” The actual words were in French, but you catch my drift. Robby soon felt the full effects of his warning. Luckily, after about 3 km, we came upon La Parada de Zuriain: espressos, servicios, perfecto! The place was packed with pelegrinos looking for a shot of espresso and a quick breakfast. We were saved!
Robby strides into the cafe.
As I was training for the trip, in the quest to learn a bit of Spanish, I downloaded Collins Spanish, by Paul Noble. It is a great Audio book for learning basic Spanish. In the first chapters I learned the ever-useful phrase, “I would like a doughnut please.” When would that ever, ever be useful, I wondered? And sure enough this morning I saw my first Spanish doughnut.
Sadly, I had already breakfasted and I missed my perhaps one and only opportunity to use that very phrase. And sadder still, we did not cover “Excuse me there is no more toilet paper in the women’s restroom.” I did however manage to get the idea across to the management.
Today was more urban than the previous days which was an interesting change. After much trudging, we crossed the hills across Pampluna and settled into our accommodations in Cizur Mayor. I have to say that any lodging that is more than 50 meters outside the Camino trail is very, very painful. And ours was 1 km+ out of the way. There may have been a very small amount of whining during the last few meters.
Then came the dilemma: did we have to walk BACK to Pamplona or would we be vilified if we were found out? We chose a compromise, we bussed back and forth to Pamplona and sampled some of the tapas experiences that make Pamplona a winderful place to spend time.
The #15 bus. 1 euro 35 into the city.
What you get for 12 euros at Bar Gaucho: 3 tapas and 2 drinks, the equivalent of one beer in the San Francisco airport.
Day 4: “It’s Grey”
Cizur Mayor to Cirauqui: 30km 6 hours 45 minutes
Staying on the other side of Pamplona gave us a jump start on our day 4 journey. From Cizur Menor you quickly reach a 7 km hill climb with a gain of about 300 meters. The view on the top is beautiful and the many wind turbines are a testament to how breezy it is.
We were feeling our oats and made pretty quick work of the hill, even jogging down parts of the descent into Uterga.
In Puenta La Reina we stopped for a quick lunch break on a sunny terrace. There we met up with two of the three amigos: Tata-san and Marco. Tata-san generously offered to share some of his peppers with me at the bar. Outside we tucked into tapas (lunch was not available until 1:30 of course) and introduced ourselves to Marco from Switzerland. After consulting Tata-san’s Michelin book we decided to walk an extra 5 Km and end the day in Maneru. As we were leaving, Marco and Tata-san cheered as Fabio strolled up and the amigos were three.
Red-faced and panting, a couple of km outside of Maneru, I decided that I would write a sternly written letter to Michelin about their complete botch-job of how steep the climb was.
And just at that time we were overtaken and joined by the three amigos. Robby and Marco strode ahead as the newly formed Japanese, Italian, Canadian alliance had a bit of a whinge.
After determining that the hostal in Maneru wasn’t quite something enough, (close perhaps?) we carried on until the hilltop town of Cirauqui, population 500. Luckily, the one hostal had beds remaining and we all signed up for the 14 bed bunk room and the pilgrim dinner.
After we had checked in, our host described the village amenities: supermarket opening from 6 to 8 pm, dinner at 7 pm, and oh yes, the village was having their annual festival from midnight until 3 a.m. And the hostal was locked at 10 pm.
Showers, shared use of the washing machine, a bit of relaxation and we were left with nothing to do in Cirauqui, population 500, but to go to the bar.
We were joined by our new friends Marcello and his father from Brazil. The crew sat in front of the church and toasted their hard work that day taking turns buying rounds. Now as anyone who has ever bought a round knows, the bigger the group the sooner you are going to get very, very drunk. It’s math.
At that time the wind was howling and we were taking bets on how quickly someone’s underpants would fly off the balcony’s clothesline. It was during the general mocking of the size of everyone’s towels that Fabio pointed out his “grey” one. It took about five minutes for seven inebriated pilgrims to identify the very large BLUE towel as Fabio’s.
Fabio was having none of it and pointed out that he was a design expert, and the towel was definitely grey. (His design credentials were later found out to be entirely based on the fact that he was an Italian from Milan.)
At seven p.m. the group toddled off to the communal dinner. The pilgrim’s dinner had four courses and unlimited wine. At dinner we made elaborate plans to sneak out the albergue window to go to the fiesta.
There was a bit of a foggy part and then there I was, in bed grumbling about how loud the clowns were crawling in the window. But wait. It was already morning.
Day 5: What Were We Thinking?#$%^
Cirauqui to Los Arcos: 36km, about 8.5 hours
The problem with hanging out with the recently-formed international brigade is that a: they are very fit, b: they are trying to do as much of the Camino as they can in very little time, and c: they are very, very hard on your liver.
Let me focus on a: and b: for a moment. Having blown past Puenta La Reina we were left with a very leisurely 23km stroll to Monjardin. The boys were going to do a marathon day and finish in Los Arcos. At least that was the talk back when I could remember the evening. Our decision was to make the decision in Monjardin. (Which was secretly NFW but I was not going to say that until I woke up properly.)
About 14km into the walk we traversed Estella.
Estella center
A little ways outside of Estella is the famous Irache wineries Fuente del Vino. At this point we still had zero interest in anything to do with wine. And did I say it was free?
We did however meet a gentleman along the way who obviously spent quality time at the free wine fountain.
It was outside Villamayor de Monjardin that we made the decision to continue. After all it was relatively flat compared to previous days and Robby still owed Marco 3 euros.
We then made our first food truck stop of the trip: tired, hungry, hot and more than a little bit crabby on my part.
The following 9 km continued on in the same vein with a lot of inner complaining and the odd breakthrough to outer complaining.
Strolling into Los Arcos we happened upon Marcelo Kappes as he was shopping. He looked up as I was getting in trouble I think for taking a picture of a somewhat ambiguously worded storefront.
Plans were made to meet up in the town square after finding a hotel. We checked into Pension Los Arcos after being turned away elsewhere and I concentrated on not being crabby.
After team Brazil (Kappes and son), Robby and I started dinner who should we spot but Tata-san?
The band were back together. It was a very tired, somewhat subdued band, but we did make elaborate plans for Marco’s birthday celebration in Logrono the next day. To seal the deal Robby only paid back two of the three euros owed to ensure we would meet up the following day.
(Of course we validated beforehand that it was also a Swiss tradition for the birthday boy to buy drinks.)
Day 6: Bésame Mucho
Los Arcos to Logrono: 29km, 6 hours
After the previous day’s death march my mind was looking forward to a shorter, flatter day. Unfortunately my feet were having none of it.
The thoughts in my head were roughly “Ow! Two, Three, Four. Ow, Two, Three, Four. !@%^#.” Repeated over a long period of time. The arrival into Logrono was hot and not very pretty.
After some texting back and forth we met up with the boys at the Albergue Municipal to line up for opening.
Note the arrow…
The Albergue Municipals use a first-come, first-served system. Early arrivers line up and for the princely sum of seven euros we were given paper sheets and pillowcases and assigned our room and bed numbers.
It was not until we had finished checking in that we figured out that the fellow in line beside Robby was not wearing a child carrier as part of a pilgrim ritual. It was being used. And guess who our neighbours were!
The good news was that there were no other infants in our cozy room of 28 fellow sleepers. The bad news was that the rest of our aisle was populated with the Korean snoring team.
Showers done, we hussled over to the square where the rest of the team had already started birthday celebrations. We all marvelled at how we could enjoy a bottle of Rioja for only 5.9 euros, forgetting of course that Marco was paying the tab.
This was followed by some birthday shots and singing of Besame Mucho, which did nothing to improve the mood of our partucularly surly waitress.
After “lunch” we retired back to the Albergue where we had a small nap that turned into a very long one…
Day 7: D’Oh
30km Logrono to Najera
My internal clock woke me up at 2 a.m.. Apparently if you go to bed at 6 pm it can do that. I bided my time in bed listening to the waves of snoring and contemplating the day to come.
The hostal came to life fully at about 6 a.m. The gazelles left in the earliest wave of keeners while we fumbled about for a bit looking for my poles. A helpful volunteer saw us and located them in the lost and found.
For anyone contemplating whether or not to bring poles, don’t waste a minute debating. They are essential. Life savers. Really.
A couple of thoughts came to us as we marched out of Logrono. There were probably more, but I am pretty sure these were the big ones.
#1: Municipal albergues give out beds in sequence. If you are standing in line next to someone you are less than keen to sleep next to, politely let them move ahead of you in line. I am sure there are a lot of “After yous!” from the smarter pilgrims.
#2: Ibuprofen was invented for a reason. If your toes ressemble small white sausages this is an important point. Yes this was day seven, and it was probably in the Dummy’s guide to the Camino, but I missed it. A couple early in the morning and mid-day and life is muuuuch better.
The exit out of Logrono was much nicer than the entrance.
The day’s climb brought cooler weather and our first sight of snow.
It was a quiet morning and we already missed our new friends. It is amazing the bonding you can accomplish in a short period of time, with shared stories and a lot of alcohol.
And as a nice surprise as we arrived in Najera, and who should we find finishing their lunch?
A quick photo, some shared food and they were off. Hasta la vista and God speed.
Day 8: “Day off”
Najera to Santo Domingo de la Calzada: 21.3km, 4.5 hours
Day 8 was a “rest day.” We had enjoyed our night in the Hostal Ciudad de Najera, a shared bathroom with people we never saw. We had reservations that night in a parador hotel in Santo Domingo. (A parador is typically located in a historic building or castle with an element of luxury.) And only 21 km to walk until our next lodging.
We woke up late (7 a.m.) and breakfasted at the same place for the third meal in a row, options being limited in Najera. The pack was much different than the previous days, largely populated by “day packers.” These are typically folks who choose a gentler pace, have their accommodation pre-booked and have their bags sent ahead. Some also call them “the smart people.” The weather continued in the chilly range with fields of wheat and rapeseed.
Not much to say about the walk. We powered by most folks, and as we arrived in Santo Domingo began to be overtaken by the fitter crowd who were powering past Santo Domingo.
The Parador de Santo Domingo de Bernardo de Fresneda was lovely.
We had a nice lunch in town. Did our laundry in the sink of a fancy hotel. Watched soccer on the telly until half-time. Who needs dinner?
Day 9: Ups and Downs
Santo Domingo to Espinoza: 31 km, 6.5 hours.
Today we said a fond good-bye to the castle and hit the road. Literally.
The best news of the day was that it didn’t rain. A bit of a slog. Path next to the highway, winding through a few down at the heel villages, headwind, cold.
The descent into Belorado was not inspiring, but ultimately surprised us.
The problem with Belorado was that it was too close. At 11:30 we were already there. The decision was made to push on. One village, two villages, no room. At the third village we planted our packs. There may have been a bit of jostling at the third village.
And we have now achieved a personal best: 5 euros a night. Take that Marco, Tata and Fabio!
Day 10: Four Seasons in One Day
Espinoza to Obaneja: 30km 7.5 hours
Our concerns that the pellet-fed heater in our five Euro a night room would set the place on fire were unfounded and we hit the road at 7:15. There was, however, one aborted start as Robby became a bit confused about the time and asked me what my plan was at 3:00 a.m.
The terrain was much more pleasant: pine forests, wide tracks, and hills to keep your mind focussed.
We were also able to take advantage of our rain clothes in a rolling sequence of wind, rain and sun. I felt strangely relieved that I had not packed the rain gear in vain.
We rotated between wet on the outside and steamy on the inside. The terrain was a bit tricky and some others who were more faint of heart chose to sit out the storm.
After about 30km our dreams of a private room dissolved and we were more than happy to sign in to tonight’s six euro a night albergue. We scored a four person room, hogged the bottom bunks and things look good for a quiet night.
Day 11: The City With No Yellow Arrows
Obaneja to Hornillos del Camino: 31km 7.5 hours
We left sharpish as we knew we had a long slog through Burgos to get to our destination. There are apparently a few scenic options to weave your way through town, but we chose the one that takes you around the airport, through the industrial wasteland and gets you lost a few times in the city.
We hooked up with Paddy from Ireland shortly after leaving our albergue and the three of us muddled our way into town. Burgos is the least well indicated place on the Camino. Everywhere else you have to try pretty hard to get lost, myself included.
Outside the cathedral we met up with also-lost Andrew from Scotland. Several helpful Spanish folks helped us on our way and we carried on.
Robby was suffering from shin splints so Andrew and I had a good natter while Robby bit through it. It was actually quite motivating to hear Andrew’s story. He had picked up bed bugs on the way and had stayed the night in Burgos to superheat his gear to get rid of them. Unfortunately, half his gear, including his shoes, though now free of bugs, was a size or two smaller. Things could be worse!
We pulled into Hornillos and were worried that we wouldn’t find a bed. We lucked out at the clean and modern “Meeting Point” albergue. Comfy beds, homemade communal paella dinner and great company.
It was then that lightning struck twice. Sometime after check-in I acquired a new four year old room-mate. Who lay conveniently beside me on a mattress on the floor. His mother had some sort of hearing problem as she peacefully snored her way through the hourly crying.
But again. We have no bed bugs and all our gear still fits!
Day 12: Danielle in the Lead
Hornillos to Itero de la Vega: 31km, 7+ hours
Our normal routine is that I am the turtle and Robby is the hare. He walks with me, sees something that catches his eye, takes a few pictures and then in very few strides catches up with the turtle.
Day 12 was the opposite. Feeling his shins with every step, we set a more leisurely pace. The scenery across the meseta was gorgeous, with few people on country paths, and I was able to do the photography and pace-setting.
It was with a lot of relief that we made it to Itero de la Vega. La Mochila was a creaking yet cheerful private Albergue run by a couple of guys who seemed to be enjoying themselves.
The weather was pleasant, the beer was cheap and the food was home-made.
We paid 30 euros for the luxury of having a three person room all to ourselves. The floors on my side sloped at a somewhat alarming angle but I managed to sleep successfully without falling out of bed. Money was saved on accommodation by keeping the rooms at arctic temperatures.
At dinner I continued my Camino English lessons by educating our fellow residents on what “number one” was. And how any flushing was to be used for “number two” only.
Word of this will soon spread along the Camino and will no doubt be added to one of the upcoming Brierly editions.
Day 13: White Skin
Itero de la Vega to Villalcazar de Vega: 28 km 7 hours
The walk from Itero to Fromista was along a pleasant path and hugged the Canal de Castilla for some time.
We caught a few fellows fishing in the canal next to a sign that I believe read, No Fishing Here.
It was about Fromista that it became quite hot. We thanked Uncle Zeke and his brothers for our watering hole sponsored by the Rotary club.
From there it was a long 14 km slog on a gravel path to our destination. The journey was broken up by the appearance of animals along the path and the smell of my skin burning.
We arrived in Villalcazar just when post-mass drinks were in full swing at the bar across from church. Our hostal, Dona Infanta, was very pleasant and we enjoyed the luxury of our own bathroom.
The sting of my first sunburn was lessened by the internal application of alcohol. And we were happy to see our Danish friend Trine steam in, literally, and later join us for dinner.
I went to bed, promising I would do a better job of sunscreen application the next day. Or perhaps tattoo over the whole thing.
Day 14: Hot and Flat
Villalcazar to Ledigos: 29 km 7 hours
The routine began as always: wrap individual problem toes against blisters, pack up the kit, minimal ablutions and then hike 7 km until coffee and bread with cured ham.
Today’s forecast was hot interspersed with f=÷/&ing hot. The morning, however, was very pleasant. We rolled in to the next town for coffee about 7:30. In town we found an enterprising Spaniard that had his shop open at the crack of eight, so we purchased new pole tips, socks and a kerchief. We had both worn through the ends of our poles and I was even wearing through my socks. The kerchief was to prevent my head from spontaneously combusting.
On the way we also witnessed an interesting umbrella-pack combo that was part comical and part common sense.
We were very happy with our accommodations in Ledigos. Enjoyable room, pleasant staff, and the best pilgrim dinner of the trip so far. It must be hard to deal with the travelling hordes of pilgrims that don’t speak Spanish if the usual sour faces are anything to judge by.
We teamed up with Trine and a lovely Dutch couple. The big learning from the couple was that if we would learn “chi walking” all of our walking aches and pains would be over. Fifty-five years of stomping around on my heels is a difficult habit to break so we will see…
Another key takeaway was gathered watching the locals spend significant time in the bar and then hop into heavy farm equipment for the drive home. Pilgrims, stay away from any tractors after about 2 pm.
Day 15: We Found the Brazilians
Ledigos to Bercianos del Real Camino: 27 km, 6.5 hours
A good but short night’s sleep in Ledigos had us up and on the road at 6:30 a.m. Our neighbours clearly wanted to beat the heat by rising at the annoying hour of 4:45 a.m. La Morena conveniently had their cafe open at 6:00 a.m. Fuelled by coffee, and you guessed it, bread with ham, we were on the road.
As we arrived in the next village we spotted Team Brazil. They had made good time but were also feeling the odd ache and pain. We did a quick comparison of our ills and then checked to see who was winning the beard growing contest.
I say Kappes senior is ahead by a hair (heavy groan.)
We spent much of the day with the Brazilians and then settled into our accommodation in downtown Bercianos.
We observed the hustle and bustle of Bercianos life: a brief sheep traffic jam followed by the pulling in and out of laundry to avoid a passing thunder shower.
After rush hour passed, one poor guy got confused and walked into the bar.
This was perhaps my spirit animal? Something with no sense of direction, but with the innate instinct to wander into the closest bar after having lost the herd.
Day 16: Never Turn Back
Bercianos to Mansilla de las Mulas: 27km, 6.5 hours
Today’s journey was relatively uneventful. We slept soundly until 6:00 a.m. with limited sturm und drang in the shared toilet department. We departed at 6:45 a.m. to beat the expected heat. With no breakfast available in our hostel until 7:30 a.m. we pushed on, planning a break in the first village, 7.5 km away.
Several times we have been fooled by stopping in the first available cafe, missing the more attractive one down the road. We cleverly avoided this scenario by skipping the only cafe in town. Rather than reverse course, an act completely against Camino nature, we (mostly I) decided to forge ahead 8 km to the next cafe. Which was actually only a turn in the road. We have since discovered that the Blue X means crossing, Cuidado. Easily confused with village, coffee and a toilet available here.
Another 5 km to Reliegos, a coffee, a much-needed rest room and all was right. A pleasant breeze helped relieve the monotony of long flat gravel stretches. We rolled into Mansilla with a spring in our steps.
We were not at our speediest today. Rather than marvelling at the very few pilgrims that passed us, we lost count mid-morning, with the memorable comment: “Don’t forget the lady with the limp.”
For the first time we did a tour of the town, only to find ourselves 5 minutes later at the closest pilgrim bar, stretched out in the garden.
Day 17: Rolling in to Leon
Mansilla de las Mulas to Leon: 18km 4.5 hours
Day 18 was another “rest day.” Only 18 km to do, a nice place booked on the other side, and good friends to meet up with.
We had squirreled away some of our embutidos from the evening before for snack time and had a relaxing stroll into the city. The overall spirit was festive along the way. Many were taking a rest day in Leon and others heading home to come back another time.
A not very inspiring path into Leon along the N601 was broken up by a bit of varied terrain and a lovely descent into the city.
Leon had a lot to offer and we wondered around the city, happy that we were not the Australian couple sporting a wheelchair and crutches.
Jack and Francoise offered some new blood into the journey and were very good company. Lunch in the sun, siesta, and a late-ish dinner. We felt very Spanish. Our lunch companions included a large noisy parrot but I am assuming that that was an individual and not a Spanish peculiarity.
After a rest and some mixed signals of whom to meet where, we found ourselves without Jack and Francoise, sitting outside the Leon cathedral in the sun with glasses of wine and beer. We quickly met up with some Camino regulars, including Trine. She made some sort of comment about where she knew she could always find us, but I think that was a traditional Danish greeting rather than a veiled comment about looming alcoholism. Like attracted like, and soon there was a larger group sharing blister-management techniques and good-natured grumbling about the price of beer in a real city, but all was right with the world.
We dined in a real restaurant that night with excellent food and made it all the way to 11 pm.
Day 18: Baptism by Fire
Leon to Villavante: 32 km, a long day.
Coming out of Leon you have the choice of a long flat route next to the N120 or a long flat route between fields. We chose the latter, and passed the day sharing family updates and discussing French air and rail strikes.
To be more realistic, the first part of the day was spent in intelligent conversation and the latter part introduced topics such as whether or not in a zombie apocolypse, the young zombie couple gradually overtaking us would eat us first, or would choose the slower Korean couple behind us. Jack rightly suggested that the answer would depend largely on whether or not they had already eaten lunch. We also had a spirited conversation about what Buffy and Jody’s uncle’s name was.
In Camino “firsts” we saw our first pilgrims on horseback.
And enjoyed our first egg-flavoured chips.
Fashion is always important on the Camino.
The end of a hard day.
Day 19: Great Scenery in the Cold and Wind
Villavante to Astorga: 21km
Villavente means “windy city,” and if it doesn’t it should. We piled on clothing and took the scenic route to Astorga. Jack was sporting a new decent-sized blister while Francoise was unscathed from the previous day’s exertions.
Just out of town we encountered our first Norwegians and I have now taken them off of the laziest Scandinavian watch list.
Astorga is a beautiful town housing Gaudi’s bishops castle, cathedral and lovely squares.
We continued our run of super-crabby wait staff. In our cafe this afternoon they were extremely put out by the sending back of my wine which managed to be both corked and turning to vinegar. On the plus side, the order came with home-made doughnuts and the bill for four drinks was under seven euros.
We splurged on dinner this evening at Restaurant Serrano. Sublime food. Spectacular service. And the restaurant all to ourselves until the first Spaniards arrived at 10 pm.
Day 20: The 7th Inning
Astorga to Cruz de Fierro, about 30 km, 6.5 hours
Let’s set back the clock. I did not mention in my previous post that the 11th – 13th of May was a national “Tuning” exhibition in the Astorga town square. For those not familiar with tuning, it involves taking a car and decking it out for both looks and sound.
We enjoyed checking out the cars and admiring the sound as we strolled around the cathedral. Fast forward to sometime after midnight when we were woken up by a rock concert that had apparently started in our bathroom.
Naively we did not realize that the participants would drive triumphantly through the city using every decibel available to them. The sound literally reverberated in my chest cavity.
Otherwise we had a good night’s sleep, dressed well for the cold and set out at a good time.
All of the villages between Astorga and our destination were quaint and worthy of a stay. The sun disappeared fairly soon into the day and we suited up for the uphill climb.
We are staying in Albergue Cruz de Fierro which was recently voted “Albergue Most Ressembling a High School Cafeteria.” Tonight is defintely an ear plug night!
Day 21: The Descent
Foncebadon to Compostilla: 30km
I think it was more than the miserable weather that gave Foncebadon such an ominous atmosphere. Stories of the night ranged from bed bugs to fights broken up between hospitaleros and guests. Our Albergue, with only a small laundry tiff, seemed tame in comparison.
Regardless, we pushed off in the wind and clouds to pass the Cruz de Ferro. At 1500 meters (about 5000 ft), it is the highest point in the journey and is for many the purpose of their pilgrimage. And where we said goodbye to Joan.
During the 900 meter descent over tricky terrain the atmosphere lightened considerably in both weather and spirit. We traversed several picturesque villages including Molinaseca and the larger Ponferrada.
Day 22: Pop Up Pulpo
Compostilla to Villafranca del Bierzo: 22km
Wine country, sunny skies and a short day. With a private room secured at the end of it. What could be better?
One answer is a pop-up pulpo stand. Fresh octupus, cooked on the spot, eaten with the locals. Pricing was variable. Our hostess charged the fellow next to us nothing, and we paid the out of town tourist price. But it was worth every penny.
And to make the day even better, our room was in a historic building complete with frescoes and marble stairway.
We tried to keep the neighbourhood real by hanging our laundry outside the window.
And speaking of pop-up, we bumped into Camino regulars Danielle and Tom for the 122nd time in the village square.
There Robby shared a few of his Camino top 10 songs. My favourite by a long shot is “Baker Man.” This a song that may have more lyrics, but the only ones that are sung are, “Baker man, is making bread.” Pole, pole, pole, pole. “Shagaboom.” Repeat for the next 10 kilometers. To shake things up you can vary words a bit such as: “Garden man, is cutting grass.” Pole, pole, pole, pole. “Shagaboom.” A nice German fellow at the table remembered the song and he and Robby enjoyed a rousing duet.
Danielle, Tom, Robby and I enjoyed a pizza dinner and may have convinced Tom, who will be a famous musician one day, to consider a re-release of Bread Man. I can’t wait.
Day 23: Mad Dogs
Villafranca del Bierzo to O’Cebreiro, 29km, 6.5 hours
With nothing booked that evening and with rumours of tight accommodation at the top, we set off before the sun had risen. Apparently our neighbours had heard the same rumours and had set their alarm with the same ring tone for 15 minutes before us.
The start of the walk was quite cold. Luckily we arrived in the neighbouring village just after the bread truck, which provided both warm bread and the impetus Robby needed to start another day of “Baker Man.”
About 20 kilometers passed quite peacefully, followed by a 9km climb of 700 meters. By this time it was HOT outside, with nary a mad dog nor an Englishman in sight. Any sensible Spaniard was inside and the path was relatively empty of two-legged animals.
The fear of sleeping outside spurred us on and we emerged into panoramic views of the countryside.
There was no room at the inn(s) at any of the more deluxe accommodations and we checked into the municipal albergue for our 6 euro stay.
The O’Cebreiro municipal has a unique bunk bed arrangement. In a presumed cost saving measure they eliminate dividers between two bunk beds. Which means that you can cozy up to a complete stranger in a virtual king size bed. My bed mate chose to swap with Robby, either out of chivalry or because he fancied the fellow on the top bunk more.
We headed off to the outdoor cafe which featured spectacular views and dirt cheap food and wine. Both of which were enough to help us sleep in our 65 person room.
Day 24: The girl from Ipanema
O’Cebreiro to Triacastella, 22km
We loitered in our bunks waiting for the first, second and third waves of albuergers to head out. We were lucky enough to team up with Andre, our Brazilian friend, for our “descent” into Triacastella.
The term descent was a bit overstated, as there were several drastic climbs out of the shoot- which did not go unnoticed, nor uncomplained by our crew. I believe the quote went something like, “What the f$%^k are they doing up there? This is supposed to be downhill!”
Regardless, the day started in the sun, above the clouds and the views were magnificent.
With Andre in our pack we were afforded the opportunity to add a new tune to the playlist. And thus “The Girl From Ipanema” was added to the top 10. After about 10 km, and 100 fragmented attempts at this previously great tune, Andre realized why we so often walked alone.
The descent became very real soon thereafter and my toes let me know that they were not happy. But before we knew it we were safely settled in Triacastella.
And who should we see soon thereafter, but Danielle and Tom…
Day 25: Toe Tantrum
Triacastella to Morgade: 31 km, a long time.
My toes have reached the point where they are no longer with the whole walking program. Seven of ten are feeling pretty good, but a few are actively trying to leave the union. When I try and force my toes into the boots in the morning it is a little bit like trying to put a reluctant toddler into a car seat.
The good news is that there are only five days left. Today and tomorrow are tough days and then three relatively easy days into Santiago. I have decided that upon arriving in Santiago I am going shoe shopping and will purchase the first pair of Skechers slip-ons that I can find.
On the walking front it was another beautiful day.
Scenery wonderful. Weather perfect. If it were not for the whining and the smell of overripe clothing the day would have been idyllic.
We had a small nod to the Castro family today.
We took a strange pleasure in arriving in our albuerge in Morgade, sitting by the side of the road and watching the pilgrims walk by. Knowing that we were done for the day.
Robby cooled his feet in the horse trough. And sure enough, Tom and Danielle arrived shortly thereafter. And at dinner we realized that we were at the kid’s table.
Day 26:The 100 km crowd
Morgade to Palas de Rei, 35 km, 8.5 hours
It was another memorable day. Having stayed off of the typical route we spent the first few hours on our own. Other than the cows of course.
And the phenomenal news was that we broke 100 Km today. With that came, shall we say, some interesting consequences.
There is a big business in the last 100 Km. If you walk more than 100 Km into Santiago you get an official certificate. The same one that us poor fools walking 800 get. So at Km 102 there are busloads of “The Last 100” folks on the trail. It is a completely different crowd.
These folks were flailing about with their poles and the queue at the first village was something to observe.
Undeterred, we charged on to Palas de Rei. And were extremely happy to find ourselves reunited with the original Brazilian crew.
And I have to say that Serilo is still out front on the beard growing competition.
Day 27: The Slightly Longer than Expected Day
Palas de Rei to Arzua: 30km, 7 hours
In a simple math error, potentially made during “tapas time”, one long day and three short days turned into two long days and two short days. Both of the long days are thankfully now complete and we only have two short days left. For sure. This time.
We joined forces with team Kappes for a good part of the day. There we learned the pitfalls of trying to “catch up” to the faster crew after a rest stop.
This is where I ate an ice cream to prevent my head from exploding in the heat. The Kappes men had a beer break 22 km in to celebrate almost arriving at their destination. We hoped that would slow them down, but sadly they were unaffected.
We also added a fourth Brazilian to the crew and she and Robby polished up a lovely duet of The Girl from Ipanema.
And today we were able to witness that rarest of occasions: Robby putting on sunscreen. There was a bit of whingeing about the stinging- perhaps applying some before day 27 would have helped?
A number of our posse stopped in the village before us and we are enjoying the possibility of sitting in chairs tomorrow morning, sipping coffee as they puff up the hill to our town. Does that make us bad people?
Day 28: Memories
Arzua to O Pedrouzo: 20km, not very far
Despite my uncharitable thoughts yesterday, there was team Kappes. Up the hill 3 km looking fresh as daisies, at breakfast before us. Hmmm.
Yesterday was a team walk with the Kappes family and Raquel. More singing, chatting, and some speed walking by the Kappes senior and Robby team in pre-world cup warm up rivalry.
We have already entered the “Can’t wait for it to be over”, “But don’t want it to end” zone. There are parts of my body that will never forgive me.
Yup. Those are the feet. The rest of the body is feeling good. Legs, heart, back, all good.
The day’s walk was spent dodging busloads of last 100km folks, but we managed to do so in good spirits without impaling anyone with our poles.
And here’s to one last day!
Day 29: The Santiago Cheering Squad
O Pedrouzo to Santiago de Compostella: 19km, a few hours
The day started with an unheralded event. Danielle and Thomas made an appearance before the sun was up.
We started in the dark to beat the rush. We walked by the light of Raquel’s iPhone without a single injury. A little later than desired, about 10km in, we stopped for breakfast in a standard Spanish Camino-side establishment. One person doing coffee, till and kitchen while caffeine-starved pilgrims became more and more anxious. Luckily the sandwiches were the size of small barges and we felt slightly better.
Danielle and her mini-me had their first walking moments together.
The day was very quickly over and we sauntered into Santiago, Serilo in the lead, as befitting the reigning yellow jersey holder.
We then began the 1.5 hour queue for our certificates. Some pilgrims were a bit put out by the wait. Our team was actually pretty excited about the opportunity to take off their packs and shoes and NOT WALK!
A quick shower, check-in, and we met up at the bar at the finish line. Not to be outdone by Team Korea who had a whole koreagraphed (deliberate typo) dance routine, complete with photographers, we started our own program.
This consisted of hoisting a glass and cheering in all the people who looked sweaty and tired coming down the hill. No photos were taken of this as we were busy hoisting and cheering, but I think we brightened the day of a lot of tired folks.
We even made the evening mass which had a surprise appearance of the Botafumeiro.
And no lightning appeared at any time.
More reflections later but its time to go get our air conditioned rental car and DRIVE to Finisterre!
Hacking the Camino 