day 47 – draft
Sunday, 22 October 2017
Cacabelos (Kakabayloss says a local) to La Faba
32 km today - 521 km on Camino Frances – 1,356 km from Le Puy - 163 to Santiago
Breakfast is at 08h and I am away by 08h30. With sun rise at 09h it is light. There are some ups and downs but nothing strenuous for the 8 km to Villafranca del Bierzo where I have two Zumo de Naranja Natural, por favor (fresh orange juice, please) and a loo stop.
I have looked at my guide and map. Here I have a choice of going up a hill and steeply down the other side (and a further 2 km) or follow the road. I choose the latter and how to get back to the N-VI (formerly the N-120) and away I go. All is well until I start a left turn towards the highway when two old biddies on my left start talking loudly and pointing to go ahead. I am saved by a younger man on my right talking to them and waving in the direction I have preferred. In no time I am beside the N-VI and facing a tunnel. It is a wide tunnel with a signs saying what can pass through. I see cars, bicycles, people and other stuff. So I proceed: the tunnel is well lit but I still put my headlight on and 415 metres later I am at exiting.
From here for 9 km to Trabadelo the road follows beside a river and is flat. And there is a paved path beside the road with a concrete barrier. Suddenly, it seems, there is an attractive woman striding alone side of me. She has also started from Cacabelos and is headed for Vega de Valcarce (Valcarchay is my take): this is Janine from Alaska. I learn she has four boys (who learn to shoot at about 12 to be safe from marauding wild life) and lots of other stuff. She wants to know which island I live on. Remembering James Cooks map of 1770 I reply Te Ika a Maui and tell the story of why it is called the Fish of Maui and that I live near the mouth of the fish of Maui (Wellington Harbour) and also the story of the waka of Maui and his brothers: after all we have more than an hour to use up. We stop at the entrance to Trabadelo: me for a Zumo etc and her for an early lunch.
I move on the 9 km to Vega del Valcarce for my late lunch after 27 km of walking.
The guide says 6.5 km to La Faba and about 300 metres of elevation increase. The walk along the river valley is pleasant enough but no significant rise in elevation. The hills loom up either side and to my right I can see the A-6 motorway bridges: these remind me of the stairs in Tyve’s dream house in Fiddler on the Roof – one for coming down and one (at a much higher elevation, it seems) just for going up. And in this valley I keep hearing bells tinkling. First I see a small flock of sheep with a good growth on them: it takes a while to spot the ram and even longer for him to do a quarter turn so I can see the bell under his neck. Then small groups of cows with the sound of a bell coming across the stream. There is no doubt this is dairying country from the cow pats on the road.
After a lovely 4 km of this the climb starts and after more than 30 km so far I am in no mood for the sudden rise: 250 metres in 2 km – you’ve got to be joking. But I don’t wont to do the entire hill in the morning. I am saved by the sound of a car and I am quick enough to put my thumb out in time. The driver needs to hop out to open the passenger door and we are away. We have quite a long chat so it must have been more than 2 km (or so it seems). And she takes me to the Parish albergue run by a German group dedicated to Jacobsweg (Jacob or James’ way).
The hospitalera is welcoming and efficient: she tells me she spends a fortnight each year opening the albergue and the final two weeks of October before closing it for the year and that she has done this for 14 years. The kitchen and eating room is a pleasure: the furniture is of pine or similar wood and looks as though one bench was bespoke made to fit the angles of the walls. I first cook some porridge and later go to the tienda (think small narrow bedroom) for some food for dinner. The downstairs dorm sleeps about 28 (14 bunks) and there are about 20 of us and we all work in together using the kitchen.
While I hog one of the two power sockets in the dining room my recharger can take 4 devices. I catch up on Monday’s DomPost and the other news sites I watch.
And so to bed.
26 October 2017
day 46 – draft Saturday, 21 October 2017 Ponferrada to Cacabelos
day 46 – draft
Saturday, 21 October 2017
Ponferrada to Cacabelos (Kakabayloss says a local)
15 km today - 589 km on Camino Frances – 1,324 km from Le Puy - 195 to Santiago
By 08h as I breakfast, I read the reply from Cathy’s friend and respond with great thanks. As I tidy my pack to head off I see, on the telly, four young men with black jackets doing a haka. Quite why this is on prime-time TV in Spain I do not discover. But I respond, in the restaurant with about four others present, in words and actions with the first line of Ka Mate. To some amusement: I don’t think they made the connection, after all Spain is not know for Rugby or many other sports we engage in.
I have checked my map and see market stalls setting up on the road I should take and head off in that direction. The staff chase after me and draw a simple map of the path I should take. I graciously accept and follow. I am lead back about 100 metre to the main avenue and past a large church with an open door. I go in and clearly Mass is not far away. I start the morning office and then follow the Mass of the day in English on my tablet.
I continue to follow the notes from breakfast and see scallop shell designs set into the footpath. After a while I come to a bridge and to my right see fortifications high on the hill above the river looking over the town. I take a wrong turn and decide to simplify by taking the main avenue out of town. I am doing well until I turn into a road that will take me quite directly to a waypoint on the walking route some 7 km away. I have gone barely 20 metres when two cyclists come towards me and gently say in best sign language I should not go that way. One says he will walk with me to where I should be, and I cannot refuse his good an gentle intentions. This will take me eastwards and I really want to go westwards. But I follow for what seems an eternity but in reality is about 10-15 minutes. I know it is 10-15 minutes I will repeat when eventually I start westwards and together with the getting mislaid in the town itself I am a little despondent. But overall I am felling OK.
My intention had been to get to Villafranca del Bierzo, Bierzo being the name of the region hereabouts. No matter where I look I can only see hills as I walk. But as I approach Cacabelos I see a large hoarding advertising a hotel with a bath in each room: I am hooked. Less than an hour later I am soaking: it is about 14h. I have a short walk about the town and rest.
About 21h I go looking for a meal. The place the hotel prefers does not offer Menu del dia at weekends and the combinations are mainly fritatas patadas (French fries) and something. So I carry on. Eventually, next to the parish church, I find a bar doing a roaring trade with a sign outside proclaiming Menu del dia. I easily make a choice.
And so to bed
Saturday, 21 October 2017
Ponferrada to Cacabelos (Kakabayloss says a local)
15 km today - 589 km on Camino Frances – 1,324 km from Le Puy - 195 to Santiago
By 08h as I breakfast, I read the reply from Cathy’s friend and respond with great thanks. As I tidy my pack to head off I see, on the telly, four young men with black jackets doing a haka. Quite why this is on prime-time TV in Spain I do not discover. But I respond, in the restaurant with about four others present, in words and actions with the first line of Ka Mate. To some amusement: I don’t think they made the connection, after all Spain is not know for Rugby or many other sports we engage in.
I have checked my map and see market stalls setting up on the road I should take and head off in that direction. The staff chase after me and draw a simple map of the path I should take. I graciously accept and follow. I am lead back about 100 metre to the main avenue and past a large church with an open door. I go in and clearly Mass is not far away. I start the morning office and then follow the Mass of the day in English on my tablet.
I continue to follow the notes from breakfast and see scallop shell designs set into the footpath. After a while I come to a bridge and to my right see fortifications high on the hill above the river looking over the town. I take a wrong turn and decide to simplify by taking the main avenue out of town. I am doing well until I turn into a road that will take me quite directly to a waypoint on the walking route some 7 km away. I have gone barely 20 metres when two cyclists come towards me and gently say in best sign language I should not go that way. One says he will walk with me to where I should be, and I cannot refuse his good an gentle intentions. This will take me eastwards and I really want to go westwards. But I follow for what seems an eternity but in reality is about 10-15 minutes. I know it is 10-15 minutes I will repeat when eventually I start westwards and together with the getting mislaid in the town itself I am a little despondent. But overall I am felling OK.
My intention had been to get to Villafranca del Bierzo, Bierzo being the name of the region hereabouts. No matter where I look I can only see hills as I walk. But as I approach Cacabelos I see a large hoarding advertising a hotel with a bath in each room: I am hooked. Less than an hour later I am soaking: it is about 14h. I have a short walk about the town and rest.
About 21h I go looking for a meal. The place the hotel prefers does not offer Menu del dia at weekends and the combinations are mainly fritatas patadas (French fries) and something. So I carry on. Eventually, next to the parish church, I find a bar doing a roaring trade with a sign outside proclaiming Menu del dia. I easily make a choice.
And so to bed
day 45 – draft Friday, 20 October 2017 Astorga to Ponferrada
day 45 – draft
Friday, 20 October 2017
Astorga to Ponferrada
53 km today - 574 km on Camino Frances – 1,309 km from Le Puy - 210 to Santiago
I rise about 07h in my hotel room and go to breakfast. I decide I am feeling better but uncertain of how I will feel later in the day or the next. I decide to bus ahead to Ponferrada and see how the day develops.
By 10h I am at the Cathedral for Mass and before 11h at the nearby Bishops Palace to wander around. The principal architect was Anton Gaudi (of Barcelona) and I cannot understand the man taking on this commission. Astorga itself has a population of 12,000 now and the surrounding area does not seem prosperous (but that is just my impression). The building itself is magnificent but as a home and diocesan office, literally, out of this world. During my visit I learn no bishop ever resided there, and no wonder. But both outside and in it is a work of art and long may it be maintained. Inside I cannot discern a shape, until I see a plan: in essence it is a cross which each arm of equal length and aerial photos bear this out in the roof line. But that is not what you see inside.
Just after 12h I am at the Estacion Autobus buying my ticket and by just after 14h I am in the cafe at Ponferrada checking out accommodation. The trip itself is through very hilly country with both the N-120 (now the N-VI but the distances are a continuation from Logrono) and the A-6 (motorway) jostling for space and a railway creeping around the hills with a long tunnel: Astorga is about 870 metres above sea-level (ASL) and Ponferrada about 550 metres ASL I find this trip quite exhiliarating.
My first choice is complete (full up) but the reception rings another close by and ‘they are waiting for me’. On checking in I give my British / EU passport. The owner is concerned about an Englander, but when I indicate my kilt and say Ecosse / Scottish he is all smiles. I lie down for a while and then go walkabout. For a population of around 70,000 (think Palmerston North) the town seems quite compact. But like all Spanish cities it is multi-story apartment living. I find the Estacion Tren (pronounced train) and it is almost bereft of live. But the departures board show around seven services over the six hours remaining this day, including one to Barcelona, right across the country.
I return and have another lie down, returning to the restaurant about 21h for a Menu del dia selection. Nothing is written down so we work through the options using a translate service on my tablet: success.
In my room I email a friend of Cathy’s who had walked from Saint-Jean to Santiago in September 2011 and ask her counsel.
And so to bed
Friday, 20 October 2017
Astorga to Ponferrada
53 km today - 574 km on Camino Frances – 1,309 km from Le Puy - 210 to Santiago
I rise about 07h in my hotel room and go to breakfast. I decide I am feeling better but uncertain of how I will feel later in the day or the next. I decide to bus ahead to Ponferrada and see how the day develops.
By 10h I am at the Cathedral for Mass and before 11h at the nearby Bishops Palace to wander around. The principal architect was Anton Gaudi (of Barcelona) and I cannot understand the man taking on this commission. Astorga itself has a population of 12,000 now and the surrounding area does not seem prosperous (but that is just my impression). The building itself is magnificent but as a home and diocesan office, literally, out of this world. During my visit I learn no bishop ever resided there, and no wonder. But both outside and in it is a work of art and long may it be maintained. Inside I cannot discern a shape, until I see a plan: in essence it is a cross which each arm of equal length and aerial photos bear this out in the roof line. But that is not what you see inside.
Just after 12h I am at the Estacion Autobus buying my ticket and by just after 14h I am in the cafe at Ponferrada checking out accommodation. The trip itself is through very hilly country with both the N-120 (now the N-VI but the distances are a continuation from Logrono) and the A-6 (motorway) jostling for space and a railway creeping around the hills with a long tunnel: Astorga is about 870 metres above sea-level (ASL) and Ponferrada about 550 metres ASL I find this trip quite exhiliarating.
My first choice is complete (full up) but the reception rings another close by and ‘they are waiting for me’. On checking in I give my British / EU passport. The owner is concerned about an Englander, but when I indicate my kilt and say Ecosse / Scottish he is all smiles. I lie down for a while and then go walkabout. For a population of around 70,000 (think Palmerston North) the town seems quite compact. But like all Spanish cities it is multi-story apartment living. I find the Estacion Tren (pronounced train) and it is almost bereft of live. But the departures board show around seven services over the six hours remaining this day, including one to Barcelona, right across the country.
I return and have another lie down, returning to the restaurant about 21h for a Menu del dia selection. Nothing is written down so we work through the options using a translate service on my tablet: success.
In my room I email a friend of Cathy’s who had walked from Saint-Jean to Santiago in September 2011 and ask her counsel.
And so to bed
day 44 – draft Thursday, 19 October 2017 Hospital de Orbigo to Astorga
day 44 – draft
Thursday, 19 October 2017
Hospital de Orbigo to Astorga
14 km today - 521 km on Camino Frances – 1,256 km from Le Puy - 263 to Santiago
I first rise about 01h and then 02h, and finally about 05h:Delhi Belly has struck again. Activity begins just after 06h and I am ready at 07h. As things seem settled I decide to push off: I don’t have much choice, as we must leave by 08h. And saying I am ill may, or may not, produce a response adequate to the needs.
At about 08h30 (about 7.30 pm NZ time) the sky is lighting up and I check the RNZ website for news. And surprisingly there is some: Winston has just made a queen.
About 10h I reach a town about 4 km from Astorga and can see the Cathedral in the distance. A drink of fresh orange juice beckons first however.
On entering the town, using the N-120 road that started in Logrono I photo the red distance marker for 350 km. From Astorga it becomes the N-VI (N-006) but the distance from Logrono is continued.
By 11h I am in the Cathedral and begin to feel faint. I realise I have not eaten properly since the weekend and go and check in at a nearby hotel: Trivago says E 71 and the hotel says E 55 including breakfast. First order is to lie down and rest.
I rise about 16h and walk about this compact town of about 12,000 people. I pass a Farmacia and buy some tablets for the Delhi Belly. And about 100 metres on a Pelequeria, but it seems to focus on women. I stand at the door and a hairdresser beckons me in and another hairdresser sits me down and puts a cape around my shoulders. I point to me beard and hold the index finger up: numero uno she says and I smile. Five minute and E 6 later we are all trimmed. I find a promenade about 400 metres long built atop a cliff facing west. The south and east sides have steep roads now but previously had ramparts etc. I am sure the more vulnerable north side had such defences also. Even though only writing four days later, I do not recall having a meal, though I must have eaten something: but Delhi Belly does enter my calculations
I am feeling terrible and not sure whether to continue walking or not. I email a friend: his reply is the old vaudeville song “keep right on to the end of the road”. The end of my road is Fisterra, or Finisterra or lands end: beyond here “be dragons” said the ancient maps. So I am not certain what to make of this.
I return to my room well before sunset at 21h30
And so to bed
PS: Cathy was born 71 years ago this day to John Henry Raphael and Catherine Elizabeth (also known as Kay). Cathy told me when her father’s parents presented him for baptism the priest opined John Henry was not sufficiently Christian and, on the spot, added Raphael. I have reflected on Cathy both today and yesterday. Yesterday was 18 October, the Feast of Saint Luke (the gentle physician and author of a large proportion of the Christian bible) and was the name Cathy took when she was professed as a Religious Sister of Mercy (Sister Mary Luke) and under which she dedicated 33 years of her life. And this day, her birthday, as she is the principal reason why I am on this pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.
Thursday, 19 October 2017
Hospital de Orbigo to Astorga
14 km today - 521 km on Camino Frances – 1,256 km from Le Puy - 263 to Santiago
I first rise about 01h and then 02h, and finally about 05h:Delhi Belly has struck again. Activity begins just after 06h and I am ready at 07h. As things seem settled I decide to push off: I don’t have much choice, as we must leave by 08h. And saying I am ill may, or may not, produce a response adequate to the needs.
At about 08h30 (about 7.30 pm NZ time) the sky is lighting up and I check the RNZ website for news. And surprisingly there is some: Winston has just made a queen.
About 10h I reach a town about 4 km from Astorga and can see the Cathedral in the distance. A drink of fresh orange juice beckons first however.
On entering the town, using the N-120 road that started in Logrono I photo the red distance marker for 350 km. From Astorga it becomes the N-VI (N-006) but the distance from Logrono is continued.
By 11h I am in the Cathedral and begin to feel faint. I realise I have not eaten properly since the weekend and go and check in at a nearby hotel: Trivago says E 71 and the hotel says E 55 including breakfast. First order is to lie down and rest.
I rise about 16h and walk about this compact town of about 12,000 people. I pass a Farmacia and buy some tablets for the Delhi Belly. And about 100 metres on a Pelequeria, but it seems to focus on women. I stand at the door and a hairdresser beckons me in and another hairdresser sits me down and puts a cape around my shoulders. I point to me beard and hold the index finger up: numero uno she says and I smile. Five minute and E 6 later we are all trimmed. I find a promenade about 400 metres long built atop a cliff facing west. The south and east sides have steep roads now but previously had ramparts etc. I am sure the more vulnerable north side had such defences also. Even though only writing four days later, I do not recall having a meal, though I must have eaten something: but Delhi Belly does enter my calculations
I am feeling terrible and not sure whether to continue walking or not. I email a friend: his reply is the old vaudeville song “keep right on to the end of the road”. The end of my road is Fisterra, or Finisterra or lands end: beyond here “be dragons” said the ancient maps. So I am not certain what to make of this.
I return to my room well before sunset at 21h30
And so to bed
PS: Cathy was born 71 years ago this day to John Henry Raphael and Catherine Elizabeth (also known as Kay). Cathy told me when her father’s parents presented him for baptism the priest opined John Henry was not sufficiently Christian and, on the spot, added Raphael. I have reflected on Cathy both today and yesterday. Yesterday was 18 October, the Feast of Saint Luke (the gentle physician and author of a large proportion of the Christian bible) and was the name Cathy took when she was professed as a Religious Sister of Mercy (Sister Mary Luke) and under which she dedicated 33 years of her life. And this day, her birthday, as she is the principal reason why I am on this pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.
23 October 2017
day 43 – draft Wednesday, 18 October 2017 Leon to Hospital de Orbigo
day 43 – draft
Wednesday, 18 October 2017
Leon to Hospital de Orbigo
36 km today - 507 km on Camino Frances – 1,242 km from Le Puy - 277 to Santiago
I rise about 07h30 and cajole the sole receptionist to give me access to the microwave in the kitchen: I would like to cook some porridge. Breakfast is at 08h and I eat only cereals and drink only fruit juice. It is still dark and I do not want to miss anything on leaving Leon, so I wander around the block for a short while. Then, as there is a slight drizzle, put on my wet weather gear. This is no more than a poncho (also the ground sheet for my tent) and set off.
The footpaths, gutters and walls at ground level have a never ending set of arrows: I have never felt so confident on leaving any place (except, maybe, for Logrono last year). After about 100 minutes I pass through La Virgen del Camino and a new cafe bar opposite beckons for loo stop and purchase (so I can use the ‘servicios”. The weather seems to be clearing, but I keep my poncho on. And just as well, for not too far down the road the rain becomes quite heavy. My poncho certainly keeps my upper body dry but extends to just above the knees: so the lower 100 mm (4 inches) of the kilt are wet through and (jumping from one extreme to another) I start to think of hypothermia and isn’t good there are so many around to see me fall.
The 22 km mark comes up about 12h30 and so does another ubiquitous cafe / bar. Off again about 13h and into good weather. My kilt is made of thin polyester (but multiple layers) and dried in no time.
I have been walking on the N-120 that started way back in Logrono and has large red distance markers every 10 km from that city. Today I pass the 310 km and 320 km marks that I see. I pass through several villages, none remarkable, and through countryside that is hard to distinguish from much which has gone before.
About 16h I detour off towards my destination for today. The eastern end is not remarkable. But then ahead I see a bridge. It must be about 100 metres long: the story passed down (as I recall it when writing this) is that a relatively wealthy man was keen to wed a certain local lady. To show his ardour he built the western end of the bridge over the stream. No result, so he continues the bridge eastwards. Alas and alack, still no result. Oh well, the town got a bridge that was needed.
The first albergue I pass happens to be operated by the Parish, so E 5 for the night. I go to the supermercado (think two generous bedrooms, while a tienda would be the size of one generous bedroom and stock a much smaller range) and get some food for dinner to cook in the albergue kitchen. During the meal I meet a young American. He is widening his experiences in Spain because food and accommodation is cheap, he says.
And so to bed
Wednesday, 18 October 2017
Leon to Hospital de Orbigo
36 km today - 507 km on Camino Frances – 1,242 km from Le Puy - 277 to Santiago
I rise about 07h30 and cajole the sole receptionist to give me access to the microwave in the kitchen: I would like to cook some porridge. Breakfast is at 08h and I eat only cereals and drink only fruit juice. It is still dark and I do not want to miss anything on leaving Leon, so I wander around the block for a short while. Then, as there is a slight drizzle, put on my wet weather gear. This is no more than a poncho (also the ground sheet for my tent) and set off.
The footpaths, gutters and walls at ground level have a never ending set of arrows: I have never felt so confident on leaving any place (except, maybe, for Logrono last year). After about 100 minutes I pass through La Virgen del Camino and a new cafe bar opposite beckons for loo stop and purchase (so I can use the ‘servicios”. The weather seems to be clearing, but I keep my poncho on. And just as well, for not too far down the road the rain becomes quite heavy. My poncho certainly keeps my upper body dry but extends to just above the knees: so the lower 100 mm (4 inches) of the kilt are wet through and (jumping from one extreme to another) I start to think of hypothermia and isn’t good there are so many around to see me fall.
The 22 km mark comes up about 12h30 and so does another ubiquitous cafe / bar. Off again about 13h and into good weather. My kilt is made of thin polyester (but multiple layers) and dried in no time.
I have been walking on the N-120 that started way back in Logrono and has large red distance markers every 10 km from that city. Today I pass the 310 km and 320 km marks that I see. I pass through several villages, none remarkable, and through countryside that is hard to distinguish from much which has gone before.
About 16h I detour off towards my destination for today. The eastern end is not remarkable. But then ahead I see a bridge. It must be about 100 metres long: the story passed down (as I recall it when writing this) is that a relatively wealthy man was keen to wed a certain local lady. To show his ardour he built the western end of the bridge over the stream. No result, so he continues the bridge eastwards. Alas and alack, still no result. Oh well, the town got a bridge that was needed.
The first albergue I pass happens to be operated by the Parish, so E 5 for the night. I go to the supermercado (think two generous bedrooms, while a tienda would be the size of one generous bedroom and stock a much smaller range) and get some food for dinner to cook in the albergue kitchen. During the meal I meet a young American. He is widening his experiences in Spain because food and accommodation is cheap, he says.
And so to bed
day 43 bis – draft Tuesday, 17 October 2017 Leon stay put
day 43 bis – draft
Tuesday, 17 October 2017
Leon stay put
00 km today - 471 km on Camino Frances – 1,216 km from Le Puy - 313 to Santiago
About 02h my stomach complains about last nights meal. And not long after an attack of Delhi Belly takes hold. The resulting shambles is, luckily, confined to the bathroom. I breakfast late and lightly and things are reasonably ship shape before I head off about 11h.
I first head to the Cathedral. For me this is a remarkable structure. The notes say it was designed and built by French artisans in the French style, started about 1200 and finished (apart from a tower) before 1400. For me the outside was marginally more pleasant than the inside: I could easily see the flying buttresses (which counteract the outward pressure of the roof from collapsing the massive columns holding the roof up). Inside the width of the Cathedral was significant but distance (or bays) between the massive columns from back to front seemed relatively puny by comparison. There were but six bays from the west door to the start of the Sanctuary at the east end. The Choir occupied the middle two bays and dominates all the visual lines. But the glory of Leon Cathedral is not the building but the glass. It is mainly original, surviving from the 1500s and is marvellous. I am there on an overcast day so the amount of light coming from behind enhances rather than blinds out the colours. It is just a riot from the first floor level and the next. And as I am at floor level, my puny skills and camera will not do ten justice. You can only experience it for yourself: if you can do book a trip.
In my wanderings I encounter an outdoors shop operated by a man who speaks English and knows his products. I mislaid some socks way back so buy two pair from him.
Next is the Museum of Leon. Entrance is E 1 (yes 1). Over four levels there is pre history, Roman occupation and through to the middle ages and includes a small segment on the pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.
Back to my room to prepare for leaving on Wednesday morning as no further calamities have struck. I put all my clothes (bar two) in a large outside pocket to make easy access during a stop. They are well pushed down and will not fall out accidently. But I cannot find either of my two short sleeved merino tops. From all viewpoints wearing the only long sleeve merino top for the next fortnight will not work. So back yo the outdoor shop (just two narrow blocks away) and I get two synthetic replacements.
I do not trust myself to dinner.
And so to bed
Tuesday, 17 October 2017
Leon stay put
00 km today - 471 km on Camino Frances – 1,216 km from Le Puy - 313 to Santiago
About 02h my stomach complains about last nights meal. And not long after an attack of Delhi Belly takes hold. The resulting shambles is, luckily, confined to the bathroom. I breakfast late and lightly and things are reasonably ship shape before I head off about 11h.
I first head to the Cathedral. For me this is a remarkable structure. The notes say it was designed and built by French artisans in the French style, started about 1200 and finished (apart from a tower) before 1400. For me the outside was marginally more pleasant than the inside: I could easily see the flying buttresses (which counteract the outward pressure of the roof from collapsing the massive columns holding the roof up). Inside the width of the Cathedral was significant but distance (or bays) between the massive columns from back to front seemed relatively puny by comparison. There were but six bays from the west door to the start of the Sanctuary at the east end. The Choir occupied the middle two bays and dominates all the visual lines. But the glory of Leon Cathedral is not the building but the glass. It is mainly original, surviving from the 1500s and is marvellous. I am there on an overcast day so the amount of light coming from behind enhances rather than blinds out the colours. It is just a riot from the first floor level and the next. And as I am at floor level, my puny skills and camera will not do ten justice. You can only experience it for yourself: if you can do book a trip.
In my wanderings I encounter an outdoors shop operated by a man who speaks English and knows his products. I mislaid some socks way back so buy two pair from him.
Next is the Museum of Leon. Entrance is E 1 (yes 1). Over four levels there is pre history, Roman occupation and through to the middle ages and includes a small segment on the pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.
Back to my room to prepare for leaving on Wednesday morning as no further calamities have struck. I put all my clothes (bar two) in a large outside pocket to make easy access during a stop. They are well pushed down and will not fall out accidently. But I cannot find either of my two short sleeved merino tops. From all viewpoints wearing the only long sleeve merino top for the next fortnight will not work. So back yo the outdoor shop (just two narrow blocks away) and I get two synthetic replacements.
I do not trust myself to dinner.
And so to bed
day 42 – draft Monday, 16 October 2017 Reliegos to Leon
day 42 – draft
Monday, 16 October 2017
Reliegos to Leon
26 km today - 471 km on Camino Frances – 1,216 km from Le Puy - 313 to Santiago
Again activity starts about 06h. There was talk last night by some of getting a bus from the village about 6 km further on into Leon. As I am awake I get up, do my toilette, get dressed, put stuff in my pack and sit on a couch in a nearby common area to catch up on the days news: I want to get away about 07h30, still an hour before sunrise.
I am off just after 07h30 walking on the road, rather than the close by “official” path, and arrive at Mansilla de las Mulas just before 09h. This is not long after sunrise and, while lots of cars are coming and going it seems the town is still in a somnolent state. I, too, have decided to catch the bus for the 20 km to Leon. This will use up the 20 km credit left over from walking the 30 km Burgos to Hontanas once last year and once this year. (I used 10 km when I bused from Viana to Logrono in the first week). The streets of the town are narrow and no shop are open and get as far as the bridge out of town towards Leon. Under a portico I see a solitary man and think he is waiting for a ride: I do not see a bus stop. I return up another narrow street and notice some activity in the distant interior: a door yields and I go inside. It is a ubiquitous cafe / bar. “No hablo Espanol. Estacion autobus” I say to the woman behind the counter. Back comes, delivered pleasantly enough I can see, a fast torrent of words. I shrug incomprehension and deploy my tablet and open a translatiion app. She writes “near bridge”, again with a fast torrent of words, and “9.15”. It is just after 09h10, so I finish my coffee Americano and get moving. By this time the solitary male has three or four women under the portico and on the opposite side of the road I can now see a sign with the words “Bus Stop”. I ask one of the women “a Leon” and she nods agreement. The bus arrives about 09h40.
Just after 10h I am in cafe at the bus station at Leon ordering a cafe Americano and a bocadillo (sandwich) using a longish soft flatish roll and looking at Trivago for a centrally located hotel with user ratings of 8.0 or better. One, two short blocks from the Cathedral, gets my eye at E 70 and off I head. They can give me a room with a bath for E 55 including breakfast.
By 11h I am in the cloisters (again on the north side of the Cathedral) heading to the main chapel to say the morning office. In the main chapel (a large space in its own right, able to seat about 300 I estimate) a priest from an Asian country is saying Mass for a group of about 40. While not dressed as walkers, I get the impression they are on a pilgrimage together.
While waiting for the scheduled Mass at 12 noon I say the office and then walk about the cloister and the associated museum. A very modern addition is a chronology spread over six panels. First up are the characters from the Hebrew Bible with approximate dates, then the major events in the Christian Bible, followed by events since then, such as the Ecumenical Councils and Saints of note. The great schism or around 1000 AD is shown in bold and thereafter the events relate predominantly to the Western (Roman) church. Luther (1517) is mentioned as is Anglican (1549) and other similar events I didn’t particularly note.
Mass at noon is, of course, celebrated in Spanish. But the structure is the same as in Wellington, whether Anglican or Roman. I have the order of Mass for each day, including the collects, reading and Gospel, on my tablet and can easily follow.
Back in my hotel room it is time for a long soak and a lie down.
I didn’t have much for dinner last night and no lunch today. By 18h hours I am hungry and don’t wish to wait nearly three hours until the restaurants open. Next door to the hotel is Kedabra, offering beer and food: they show me a table and give me a menu. Of the six columns of offerings only two are currently on offer so I choose one. That one needs a cook and he wont be here for 15 minutes: that’s OK, I will wait. It then turns out they don’t have the main ingredient. I choose something else: the resulting plate is full to overflowing and I manage all of it. I pay and go back to my room.
And so to bed
Monday, 16 October 2017
Reliegos to Leon
26 km today - 471 km on Camino Frances – 1,216 km from Le Puy - 313 to Santiago
Again activity starts about 06h. There was talk last night by some of getting a bus from the village about 6 km further on into Leon. As I am awake I get up, do my toilette, get dressed, put stuff in my pack and sit on a couch in a nearby common area to catch up on the days news: I want to get away about 07h30, still an hour before sunrise.
I am off just after 07h30 walking on the road, rather than the close by “official” path, and arrive at Mansilla de las Mulas just before 09h. This is not long after sunrise and, while lots of cars are coming and going it seems the town is still in a somnolent state. I, too, have decided to catch the bus for the 20 km to Leon. This will use up the 20 km credit left over from walking the 30 km Burgos to Hontanas once last year and once this year. (I used 10 km when I bused from Viana to Logrono in the first week). The streets of the town are narrow and no shop are open and get as far as the bridge out of town towards Leon. Under a portico I see a solitary man and think he is waiting for a ride: I do not see a bus stop. I return up another narrow street and notice some activity in the distant interior: a door yields and I go inside. It is a ubiquitous cafe / bar. “No hablo Espanol. Estacion autobus” I say to the woman behind the counter. Back comes, delivered pleasantly enough I can see, a fast torrent of words. I shrug incomprehension and deploy my tablet and open a translatiion app. She writes “near bridge”, again with a fast torrent of words, and “9.15”. It is just after 09h10, so I finish my coffee Americano and get moving. By this time the solitary male has three or four women under the portico and on the opposite side of the road I can now see a sign with the words “Bus Stop”. I ask one of the women “a Leon” and she nods agreement. The bus arrives about 09h40.
Just after 10h I am in cafe at the bus station at Leon ordering a cafe Americano and a bocadillo (sandwich) using a longish soft flatish roll and looking at Trivago for a centrally located hotel with user ratings of 8.0 or better. One, two short blocks from the Cathedral, gets my eye at E 70 and off I head. They can give me a room with a bath for E 55 including breakfast.
By 11h I am in the cloisters (again on the north side of the Cathedral) heading to the main chapel to say the morning office. In the main chapel (a large space in its own right, able to seat about 300 I estimate) a priest from an Asian country is saying Mass for a group of about 40. While not dressed as walkers, I get the impression they are on a pilgrimage together.
While waiting for the scheduled Mass at 12 noon I say the office and then walk about the cloister and the associated museum. A very modern addition is a chronology spread over six panels. First up are the characters from the Hebrew Bible with approximate dates, then the major events in the Christian Bible, followed by events since then, such as the Ecumenical Councils and Saints of note. The great schism or around 1000 AD is shown in bold and thereafter the events relate predominantly to the Western (Roman) church. Luther (1517) is mentioned as is Anglican (1549) and other similar events I didn’t particularly note.
Mass at noon is, of course, celebrated in Spanish. But the structure is the same as in Wellington, whether Anglican or Roman. I have the order of Mass for each day, including the collects, reading and Gospel, on my tablet and can easily follow.
Back in my hotel room it is time for a long soak and a lie down.
I didn’t have much for dinner last night and no lunch today. By 18h hours I am hungry and don’t wish to wait nearly three hours until the restaurants open. Next door to the hotel is Kedabra, offering beer and food: they show me a table and give me a menu. Of the six columns of offerings only two are currently on offer so I choose one. That one needs a cook and he wont be here for 15 minutes: that’s OK, I will wait. It then turns out they don’t have the main ingredient. I choose something else: the resulting plate is full to overflowing and I manage all of it. I pay and go back to my room.
And so to bed
20 October 2017
day 41 – draft Sunday, 15 October 2017 San Nicholas del Real Camino to Reliegos
day 41 – draft
Sunday, 15 October 2017
San Nicholas del Real Camino to Reliegos
39 km today - 445 km on Camino Frances – 1,190 km from Le Puy - 339 to Santiago
Today activity starts about 06h. And as my intention is for a long day I am up with the first mover. I am underway just before 07h. I am back on the road as I don’t trust my feet on the pebbly and slightly uneven paths. This is the N-120 again. This road started way back in Logrono and, where convenient, it is the preferred road as it has wide shoulders in open country.
First stop is Sahagun, about 7 km don the road, for a Danish, cafe Americano and Zumo de Naranaja Natural. As I pass out through the town I hear the bell calling the faithful and I keep going.
For the rest of the day I am on a sealed country road with very little happening. The whole region is flat and so is the road. The principal features are road bridges being lifted up over the two high speed rail lines. Yes, two, one to my left and one to my right, each about 500 metres or so away. And part of the road bridges are for the A-231, a major arterial road between Burgos and Leon not far away to my right: I can often see trucks and cars scudding along in either direction.
After Sahagun there are only two stops. Berciamos del Real Camino is 10 km on and a good place for a late morning break. And a near new cafe has pride of place on entering the town and offers me a slice of newly cooked tortilla along with the usual.
El Burgo Ranero comes up a further 8 km on and makes for a lunch break. On approaching the village I notice a tall tower with a peaked cover and ladders almost to the top and think fire station, the tower being to hang hoses to dry. On the way out of town I look back and see a cross on top of the tower and a bell under the peaked cover. On the ground is a (relatively) squat building with an arched roof. Now I am thinking church. If so this is likely to be one of the more recent churches in this part of Spain serving a catchment of not many people.
On the final 13 km stretch for the day I encounter irrigators. I have seen these on the Canterbury plan as a line that trundles along the length of a field trailed by a hose attached to a supply point somewhere and so cover a rectangular area. While those I encounter today look the same in outline there is one major difference: they are tethered at one end to what looks like a water bore head and so would water all or part of a circular area.
Reliegos comes up. At the entrance to the village is a modern albergue and a Canadian couple from Vancouver are heading into the town. There are at least four bunk rooms and only one with pilgrims stuff in it. No one else about I so I continue on. The next albergue seems to be an add on to a restaurant / bar and the cook, who also seems to double up as receptionist, and I have trouble communicating, even with the help of a translator on my tablet. In the end it seems I could have a room to myself for E 30. I decide to keep looking and find another near new albergue, but in an older style. The staff are helpful and I wash some smalls to dry overnight. They are either merino or synthetics, so that is not a problem
I forget what I had to eat. Possibly the rolled oats / porridge that was cooked for me in San Nicholas the night before.
And so to bed
Sunday, 15 October 2017
San Nicholas del Real Camino to Reliegos
39 km today - 445 km on Camino Frances – 1,190 km from Le Puy - 339 to Santiago
Today activity starts about 06h. And as my intention is for a long day I am up with the first mover. I am underway just before 07h. I am back on the road as I don’t trust my feet on the pebbly and slightly uneven paths. This is the N-120 again. This road started way back in Logrono and, where convenient, it is the preferred road as it has wide shoulders in open country.
First stop is Sahagun, about 7 km don the road, for a Danish, cafe Americano and Zumo de Naranaja Natural. As I pass out through the town I hear the bell calling the faithful and I keep going.
For the rest of the day I am on a sealed country road with very little happening. The whole region is flat and so is the road. The principal features are road bridges being lifted up over the two high speed rail lines. Yes, two, one to my left and one to my right, each about 500 metres or so away. And part of the road bridges are for the A-231, a major arterial road between Burgos and Leon not far away to my right: I can often see trucks and cars scudding along in either direction.
After Sahagun there are only two stops. Berciamos del Real Camino is 10 km on and a good place for a late morning break. And a near new cafe has pride of place on entering the town and offers me a slice of newly cooked tortilla along with the usual.
El Burgo Ranero comes up a further 8 km on and makes for a lunch break. On approaching the village I notice a tall tower with a peaked cover and ladders almost to the top and think fire station, the tower being to hang hoses to dry. On the way out of town I look back and see a cross on top of the tower and a bell under the peaked cover. On the ground is a (relatively) squat building with an arched roof. Now I am thinking church. If so this is likely to be one of the more recent churches in this part of Spain serving a catchment of not many people.
On the final 13 km stretch for the day I encounter irrigators. I have seen these on the Canterbury plan as a line that trundles along the length of a field trailed by a hose attached to a supply point somewhere and so cover a rectangular area. While those I encounter today look the same in outline there is one major difference: they are tethered at one end to what looks like a water bore head and so would water all or part of a circular area.
Reliegos comes up. At the entrance to the village is a modern albergue and a Canadian couple from Vancouver are heading into the town. There are at least four bunk rooms and only one with pilgrims stuff in it. No one else about I so I continue on. The next albergue seems to be an add on to a restaurant / bar and the cook, who also seems to double up as receptionist, and I have trouble communicating, even with the help of a translator on my tablet. In the end it seems I could have a room to myself for E 30. I decide to keep looking and find another near new albergue, but in an older style. The staff are helpful and I wash some smalls to dry overnight. They are either merino or synthetics, so that is not a problem
I forget what I had to eat. Possibly the rolled oats / porridge that was cooked for me in San Nicholas the night before.
And so to bed
day 40 – draft Saturday, 14 October 2017 Carrion de los Condes to San Nicholas del Real Camino
day 40 – draft
Saturday, 14 October 2017
Carrion de los Condes to San Nicholas del Real Camino
30 km today - 406 km on Camino Frances – 1,151 km from Le Puy - 378 to Santiago
I am awake at 06h30 and my two (male) room mates have already left. I prepare my stuff and am the other side of the town by 07h30. Then down an ancient bridge (too dark to appreciate) that is about 5 metres (and maybe more) higher at the town end than the opposite bank. While I didn’t see any in this town (too dark) many towns had walls and ramparts to protect them in the middle ages and a river on a boundary also helped.
Today has the longest (but only just) stretch without a watering hole: 17 km. However, sunrise is over an hour way and the road already has many pilgrims. And for about 6 km it is a road with almost no cars etc. After the sealed surface runs out there is a very even lane for agricultural services. About another 6 or 7 km on there is a shelter with a very large and overflowing rubbish bin. I take off my long sleeve tops and replace with one short sleeve one: and throw a banana skin in the rubbish bin. I am nearing the end of the alignment of a Roman road that from Carrion to Leon and then to Astorga. This early in the morning it is a dream to walk, though I have to be fit and have stamina.
At the 17 km point I descend down, round a bend and there is a welcome sight ahead to my left: at least 20 seats set around tables with sun umbrellas. This is Calzadilla de la Cueza. It is just after 10h30 and I am amongst the first to arrive, but not by much. I notice at least two other bars/cafes with a handful of chairs each and no tables doing little trade. I ask for a zero dot zero beer and a glass of zumo de naranja natural (natural orange drink – freshly squeezed). Outside there is a great hub-bub and the new arrivals chat to one another. I am soon off.
The next town is Ledigos. Some times you get a feeling on not being wanted. Ledigos exudes some of that: all the camino direction signs I see have been blacked over, but the locals seem friendly enough. Another stop for zumo de naranja natural and off. The blacked out sign strike again. If t were not for a local motorist I may have gone several hundred metres more before turning back and picking up the track from my maps. And what a terrible path it is: stones of an awkward size all over it. Even the approach into the next town, Terradillos de los Templarios, is one of the worst I’ve come across. And the only local I see takes one look at me and turns away without any greeting.
I take to the N-120 for the last stretch to San Nicolas del Real Camino, arriving there just before 15h. The welcome is efficient and friendly and I soon have a large cold glass of Sangria to hold onto. Sock and top washing is the order of the day and soon put on a rack to dry.
It has not been particularly hot today. While there are about eight in the albergue only four sit down to dinner at 19h30. An American in his later 30s who completed at Santiago a year or so ago and now is doing what the original pilgrims did, return from whence they came. A Spaniard (I think) who has limited English and a former nursing sister and matron from the Kingdom of Fife (for Sassenachs: that’s the part of Scotland across the Firth of Forth from Edinburgh and where the first Scottish king was crowned) while her husband lies ill above us.
Not only is there a top sheet but also a blanket: I relish the luxury.
And so to bed
Saturday, 14 October 2017
Carrion de los Condes to San Nicholas del Real Camino
30 km today - 406 km on Camino Frances – 1,151 km from Le Puy - 378 to Santiago
I am awake at 06h30 and my two (male) room mates have already left. I prepare my stuff and am the other side of the town by 07h30. Then down an ancient bridge (too dark to appreciate) that is about 5 metres (and maybe more) higher at the town end than the opposite bank. While I didn’t see any in this town (too dark) many towns had walls and ramparts to protect them in the middle ages and a river on a boundary also helped.
Today has the longest (but only just) stretch without a watering hole: 17 km. However, sunrise is over an hour way and the road already has many pilgrims. And for about 6 km it is a road with almost no cars etc. After the sealed surface runs out there is a very even lane for agricultural services. About another 6 or 7 km on there is a shelter with a very large and overflowing rubbish bin. I take off my long sleeve tops and replace with one short sleeve one: and throw a banana skin in the rubbish bin. I am nearing the end of the alignment of a Roman road that from Carrion to Leon and then to Astorga. This early in the morning it is a dream to walk, though I have to be fit and have stamina.
At the 17 km point I descend down, round a bend and there is a welcome sight ahead to my left: at least 20 seats set around tables with sun umbrellas. This is Calzadilla de la Cueza. It is just after 10h30 and I am amongst the first to arrive, but not by much. I notice at least two other bars/cafes with a handful of chairs each and no tables doing little trade. I ask for a zero dot zero beer and a glass of zumo de naranja natural (natural orange drink – freshly squeezed). Outside there is a great hub-bub and the new arrivals chat to one another. I am soon off.
The next town is Ledigos. Some times you get a feeling on not being wanted. Ledigos exudes some of that: all the camino direction signs I see have been blacked over, but the locals seem friendly enough. Another stop for zumo de naranja natural and off. The blacked out sign strike again. If t were not for a local motorist I may have gone several hundred metres more before turning back and picking up the track from my maps. And what a terrible path it is: stones of an awkward size all over it. Even the approach into the next town, Terradillos de los Templarios, is one of the worst I’ve come across. And the only local I see takes one look at me and turns away without any greeting.
I take to the N-120 for the last stretch to San Nicolas del Real Camino, arriving there just before 15h. The welcome is efficient and friendly and I soon have a large cold glass of Sangria to hold onto. Sock and top washing is the order of the day and soon put on a rack to dry.
It has not been particularly hot today. While there are about eight in the albergue only four sit down to dinner at 19h30. An American in his later 30s who completed at Santiago a year or so ago and now is doing what the original pilgrims did, return from whence they came. A Spaniard (I think) who has limited English and a former nursing sister and matron from the Kingdom of Fife (for Sassenachs: that’s the part of Scotland across the Firth of Forth from Edinburgh and where the first Scottish king was crowned) while her husband lies ill above us.
Not only is there a top sheet but also a blanket: I relish the luxury.
And so to bed
day 39 – draft Friday, 13 October 2017 Boadillo del Camino to Carrion de los Condes
day 39 – draft
Friday, 13 October 2017
Boadillo del Camino to Carrion de los Condes
25 km today - 375 km on Camino Frances – 1,053 km from Le Puy - 419 to Santiago
As soon as a light goes on at 07h I am up and about. But I have two immediate concerns. Before going to bed I wanted my headlight to be able to read, and couldn’t find it anywhere: the room lights were not convenient. It is quite compact, weights almost nothing, goes around my wrist and has solid and flashing white and red lights: the latter is really good when going about a room as it tends not to wake anyone. And I remember, when I brought my washing in I had not brought in my wash basin cum foot bath cum carry all. The latter is quickly solved: the owner had brought the drying rack under the verandah and there its is. And as the pre-sun rise takes effect I notice a shadow under the bed: it is the headlight. But all is not yet well: I cannot find a small open pouch which contains my hikers wool, washing detergent and two toe crests: a diligent search and talk with the owner reveals nothing.
I had paid E3 for breakfast: a great disappointment at having a thick hard piece of toast, water, orange drink and coffee. One of the three amigos appear and, seeing files all over the remaining pieces of toast asks the owner for fresh, the owner refuses and the one amigo goes off, not to appear again.
So I am off just after 08h This should be a game of four quarters.
First up is Fromista, 6 km away. But the real gem is the ‘Canal del Castilla’ which appears as I crest a small rise. The path alongside is good and, although early in the morning, the trees offer a nice shade. The apparent use is for irrigation and not navigation. Every so often there is a sluice gate and a channel leading away into the distance. The Canal ends at Fromista with curved dam and no locks leading to a lower level. Just as I arrive at this point civilisation rears in the form of a fast train whizzing across less than 200 metres from me. I have tortilla and coffee and are off quick quickly.
After 4 km on I take a loo stop and carry on to about halfway, Revenga de Campos. I go into the church to say the morning office and note two sisters in attendance for Exposition. I have along multi-layered text conversation with my London son and say the office and away by midday: this turning out to be a slow day even though the way is flat.
My fourth stop is at the ¾ point and is a sit down afternoon tea and a catch up with one of the three amigos from the last two nights.
Eventually I get to my destination for the day. I check out the first albergue, the (now defunct) Monasterio del Santa Clara. In front of me at check in are two American cyclists: the hospitalero checks me in and invites the three of us to accompany him to the rooms. He shows the two women to a room that looks to have only two beds in it and then invites me in as well: I can now see three beds. I check with the women if this is OK and they reply in the affirmative. I go off to get some money, drink some 0.0% beer and check out the town. When I get back the stuff on the other two beds seems different. And when I see the hospitalero he asks if I am from Scotland. I decide on a dinner of porridge (last eaten on Monday) and, in the kitchen, talk with a group from Marseille and a young woman who has completed 42 km that day. Wow! When I get back to my room the two American women have changed into two cyclists from I know not where. My guess is the hospitalero thought me to be a bearded woman. Oh well.
And so to bed
Friday, 13 October 2017
Boadillo del Camino to Carrion de los Condes
25 km today - 375 km on Camino Frances – 1,053 km from Le Puy - 419 to Santiago
As soon as a light goes on at 07h I am up and about. But I have two immediate concerns. Before going to bed I wanted my headlight to be able to read, and couldn’t find it anywhere: the room lights were not convenient. It is quite compact, weights almost nothing, goes around my wrist and has solid and flashing white and red lights: the latter is really good when going about a room as it tends not to wake anyone. And I remember, when I brought my washing in I had not brought in my wash basin cum foot bath cum carry all. The latter is quickly solved: the owner had brought the drying rack under the verandah and there its is. And as the pre-sun rise takes effect I notice a shadow under the bed: it is the headlight. But all is not yet well: I cannot find a small open pouch which contains my hikers wool, washing detergent and two toe crests: a diligent search and talk with the owner reveals nothing.
I had paid E3 for breakfast: a great disappointment at having a thick hard piece of toast, water, orange drink and coffee. One of the three amigos appear and, seeing files all over the remaining pieces of toast asks the owner for fresh, the owner refuses and the one amigo goes off, not to appear again.
So I am off just after 08h This should be a game of four quarters.
First up is Fromista, 6 km away. But the real gem is the ‘Canal del Castilla’ which appears as I crest a small rise. The path alongside is good and, although early in the morning, the trees offer a nice shade. The apparent use is for irrigation and not navigation. Every so often there is a sluice gate and a channel leading away into the distance. The Canal ends at Fromista with curved dam and no locks leading to a lower level. Just as I arrive at this point civilisation rears in the form of a fast train whizzing across less than 200 metres from me. I have tortilla and coffee and are off quick quickly.
After 4 km on I take a loo stop and carry on to about halfway, Revenga de Campos. I go into the church to say the morning office and note two sisters in attendance for Exposition. I have along multi-layered text conversation with my London son and say the office and away by midday: this turning out to be a slow day even though the way is flat.
My fourth stop is at the ¾ point and is a sit down afternoon tea and a catch up with one of the three amigos from the last two nights.
Eventually I get to my destination for the day. I check out the first albergue, the (now defunct) Monasterio del Santa Clara. In front of me at check in are two American cyclists: the hospitalero checks me in and invites the three of us to accompany him to the rooms. He shows the two women to a room that looks to have only two beds in it and then invites me in as well: I can now see three beds. I check with the women if this is OK and they reply in the affirmative. I go off to get some money, drink some 0.0% beer and check out the town. When I get back the stuff on the other two beds seems different. And when I see the hospitalero he asks if I am from Scotland. I decide on a dinner of porridge (last eaten on Monday) and, in the kitchen, talk with a group from Marseille and a young woman who has completed 42 km that day. Wow! When I get back to my room the two American women have changed into two cyclists from I know not where. My guess is the hospitalero thought me to be a bearded woman. Oh well.
And so to bed
day 38 – draft Thursday, 12 October 2017 Hontanas to Boadillo del Camino
day 38 – draft
Thursday, 12 October 2017
Hontanas to Boadillo del Camino
26 km today - 321 km on Camino Frances – 1,027 km from Le Puy - 467 to Santiago
I wake at 07h35 and should be out by 08h and leave by 08h20. While having a croissant a woman in the albergue uniform comes to me and asks if I remember: of course I do. I take leave of the owner and make good time to Castrojeriz, 9 km on. About 2 km before that I skirt through the ruins of a 15th century convent dedicated to San Anton: my understanding is we pass a typical west door into the church with its serried arches of, typically, saints and biblical figures telling gospel stories.
At Castrojeriz the church at the eastern end is both a well ordered museum and a working parish church. It is € 1 to enter and I say the morning office. I go to a cafe opposite to augment my breakfast. Castrojeriz is spread out around about half the circumference of a conical hill and takes almost 20 minutes from east to west.
After a 2 km stroll across a river valley I encounter a stroll up an escarpment: it is 1 km of linear distance and the rate of climb is 18%. I calculate that to be an increase in elevation of 180 metres. After putting on a short sleeve stop a young woman and I set out within a few seconds of one another. She makes better progress but stops about 100 metres from the top and I pass her. She restarts, passes me and reaches the top about 2 metres in front of me: the little red engine has done it again! Our effort is short lived: after about 500 metres level we descend, at 18% again, for 350 metres linear losing or 60 metres of elevation we had just gained!
The countryside appears to be exclusively agricultural (cropping) and the farm machinery is out in force. Clouds of dust indicate the current area of activity. My lunch stop is 12 km from Castrojeriz, Itero de Verga. Here I introduce myself to 0.0% beer and find it refreshing. Then the final 6 km today to Boadillo del Camino, passing over a bridge built some 500 or so years ago and also now used as part of a local road.
The albergue at Boadillo is quite new on the inside and, luxury of luxuries we have a top sheet and blanket. Dinner is grand and I join Michael from Florida, Seamus from Ireland and Wilfred from Germany but now living in Sutherland in north-west Scotland (cherche la femme?). And these three were at dinner on Wednesday night at Hontanas.
And so to bed.
Thursday, 12 October 2017
Hontanas to Boadillo del Camino
26 km today - 321 km on Camino Frances – 1,027 km from Le Puy - 467 to Santiago
I wake at 07h35 and should be out by 08h and leave by 08h20. While having a croissant a woman in the albergue uniform comes to me and asks if I remember: of course I do. I take leave of the owner and make good time to Castrojeriz, 9 km on. About 2 km before that I skirt through the ruins of a 15th century convent dedicated to San Anton: my understanding is we pass a typical west door into the church with its serried arches of, typically, saints and biblical figures telling gospel stories.
At Castrojeriz the church at the eastern end is both a well ordered museum and a working parish church. It is € 1 to enter and I say the morning office. I go to a cafe opposite to augment my breakfast. Castrojeriz is spread out around about half the circumference of a conical hill and takes almost 20 minutes from east to west.
After a 2 km stroll across a river valley I encounter a stroll up an escarpment: it is 1 km of linear distance and the rate of climb is 18%. I calculate that to be an increase in elevation of 180 metres. After putting on a short sleeve stop a young woman and I set out within a few seconds of one another. She makes better progress but stops about 100 metres from the top and I pass her. She restarts, passes me and reaches the top about 2 metres in front of me: the little red engine has done it again! Our effort is short lived: after about 500 metres level we descend, at 18% again, for 350 metres linear losing or 60 metres of elevation we had just gained!
The countryside appears to be exclusively agricultural (cropping) and the farm machinery is out in force. Clouds of dust indicate the current area of activity. My lunch stop is 12 km from Castrojeriz, Itero de Verga. Here I introduce myself to 0.0% beer and find it refreshing. Then the final 6 km today to Boadillo del Camino, passing over a bridge built some 500 or so years ago and also now used as part of a local road.
The albergue at Boadillo is quite new on the inside and, luxury of luxuries we have a top sheet and blanket. Dinner is grand and I join Michael from Florida, Seamus from Ireland and Wilfred from Germany but now living in Sutherland in north-west Scotland (cherche la femme?). And these three were at dinner on Wednesday night at Hontanas.
And so to bed.
13 October 2017
day 37 – draft Wednesday, 11 October 2017 Burgos to Hontanas
day 37 – draft
Wednesday, 11 October 2017
Burgos to Hontanas
31 km today - 295 km on Camino Frances – 1,001 km from Le Puy - 489 to Santiago
This is a big day for me. Not the distance as such, although 31 km in this heat is not a piece of cake: it is something I often achieved in my training. Rather I am returning to the town at which, 18 months ago I broke down, both physically and emotionally and was ambulanced away from. I wish to meet the owner and give him a small token of appreciation I have brought from home. The route breaks rather nicely into three segments, each of about 10 km.
I have been awake for hours and by 07h are dressed, pack shut and in the breakfast room. And on the road by 07h30. At the western outskirts of Burgos the track leaves suburbia and so do a lot of pilgrims. The first break, Tajardos, is just before 10h (a bit slow) and, after loo, coffee and tortilla, I am on the way again by 10h30.
At the start of the descent into Hornillos del Camino a pilgrim calls out my name: It is Nigel from the albergue in Estella, more than a week ago, and he has something he wants to tell me. We agree to catch up in the town ahead. And we do along with his companion, Ian, at a cafe. What he wants to tell me is that his wife is arranging for the Estella newspaper for last week to be sent to her. I reply that I have an electronic copy of the articles written at the albergue and can I email to him, which I do. It is about 12h30 and I decide to stay here several hours to avoid the heat of the day before moving on. And so I meet Polly, Grainne (Gertrude in Irish Gaelic), and all from Ireland. A fresh bowl of sangria was prepared as I arrive and needs to be sampled. This must be a different recipe from that I was used to in Burgos, just 20 k away. But I muster my senses and push off just before 16h.
I arrive safely at Hontanas just on 18h. The owner and I recognise one another and he gives me a six bunk bed room with ensuite all to myself. I tell the owner I have s small token of appreciation and would he join us as dinner ends. Dinner follows shortly after and there are 12 of us at the one long table: I get to be dad. It seems three at my end are walking together, plus the husband and wife from Newcastle, Australia I met last Thursday at Santo Domingo Cathedral. It is a merry bunch and a good community meal. After dinner I have the owner join us and he puts his arm around me: for the benefit of all I quickly recite the facts as they happened at Hontanas, describe the koru pattern on the merino beanie and present. The Australian takes some photos.
And so to bed.
Wednesday, 11 October 2017
Burgos to Hontanas
31 km today - 295 km on Camino Frances – 1,001 km from Le Puy - 489 to Santiago
This is a big day for me. Not the distance as such, although 31 km in this heat is not a piece of cake: it is something I often achieved in my training. Rather I am returning to the town at which, 18 months ago I broke down, both physically and emotionally and was ambulanced away from. I wish to meet the owner and give him a small token of appreciation I have brought from home. The route breaks rather nicely into three segments, each of about 10 km.
I have been awake for hours and by 07h are dressed, pack shut and in the breakfast room. And on the road by 07h30. At the western outskirts of Burgos the track leaves suburbia and so do a lot of pilgrims. The first break, Tajardos, is just before 10h (a bit slow) and, after loo, coffee and tortilla, I am on the way again by 10h30.
At the start of the descent into Hornillos del Camino a pilgrim calls out my name: It is Nigel from the albergue in Estella, more than a week ago, and he has something he wants to tell me. We agree to catch up in the town ahead. And we do along with his companion, Ian, at a cafe. What he wants to tell me is that his wife is arranging for the Estella newspaper for last week to be sent to her. I reply that I have an electronic copy of the articles written at the albergue and can I email to him, which I do. It is about 12h30 and I decide to stay here several hours to avoid the heat of the day before moving on. And so I meet Polly, Grainne (Gertrude in Irish Gaelic), and all from Ireland. A fresh bowl of sangria was prepared as I arrive and needs to be sampled. This must be a different recipe from that I was used to in Burgos, just 20 k away. But I muster my senses and push off just before 16h.
I arrive safely at Hontanas just on 18h. The owner and I recognise one another and he gives me a six bunk bed room with ensuite all to myself. I tell the owner I have s small token of appreciation and would he join us as dinner ends. Dinner follows shortly after and there are 12 of us at the one long table: I get to be dad. It seems three at my end are walking together, plus the husband and wife from Newcastle, Australia I met last Thursday at Santo Domingo Cathedral. It is a merry bunch and a good community meal. After dinner I have the owner join us and he puts his arm around me: for the benefit of all I quickly recite the facts as they happened at Hontanas, describe the koru pattern on the merino beanie and present. The Australian takes some photos.
And so to bed.
day 37 bis (b) – draft Tuesday, 10 October 2017 Burgos stay put
day 37 bis (b) – draft
Tuesday, 10 October 2017
Burgos stay put
00 km today - 264 km on Camino Frances - 970 km from Le Puy - 520 to Santiago
I wake quite early, do some of my outstanding blogs and go for breakfast about 09h. I’ve sorted what I will send on to Santiago to lighten the load, in addition to my tent. At the principal Correos (Post Office) for Burgos I land a teller who speaks English. I suspect my pronunciation of “no hablo Espanol” (I do not speak Spanish, literally I have no Spanish) is a bit of a giveaway. We do the business and my pack will be lighter by just over 1 kg.
Then across the road to the Museum of human evolution. Entrance is € 6, and with a pilgrims passport € 4. So I am ready. The receptionist says I am free! Seeing my confusion she asks ‘Are you retired. If so ...”. There are four floors. The bottom floor focuses on the diggings near Atapeurca, a village some 20 km to the north east of Burgos. The displays are well laid out and with some thoughtfulness we are taken back several million years graphically and then brought to the present showing how the land forms and what was under them more especially were formed. In short, several of the oldest Eurasian human fossils have been found at that site. The next floor has, for me, fascinating displays about the various hominid (human related) species: the displays cut to the chase with life sized models of each. I learn that a common feature of most is social cohesion, communal care of the sick and elderly and funeral customs. The top two floors had stuff about Darwin and other more general material.
I had back to the hotel for a siesta. After which I wander up a major boulevard to the north east about 2 km, then down about 1 km south west towards the Rio Arlazon and then west back towards the hotel. My route is a bit like a wedge from a wheel of cheese. And my two fold purpose is to look for bananas and mandarin for my pack tomorrow and to observe the tenement housing and other buildings on my route. I succeed in the first but only once, and as I pick up my selection of two mandarin the shopkeeper talks to me very loudly: as I don’t know what practice I have run foul of, I replace the fruit and walk out with a cheery wave of the hand. My hotel is at the eastern edge of the old town and my route encompasses buildings that look to be from the last 40 years. Nothing spectacular except for the great sense of spaciousness: wide radiating boulevards with double carriageways in each direction separated by wide grassed areas and with generous connecting streets.
For dinner I decide to look for Menu del dia place closer to the hotel: and I find it. It is dark and just after 19h and I am the only patron but the only person grunts and waves down to a connected sandwich bar (with an entrance to another street. The young woman pleasantly points me back to the restaurant: this is some internal issue I cant resolve so leave. And a few moments later find a hoke in the wall offering Doner Kebab, just as I would find in Courtenay Place and for a lesser price.
Within the hour I am soaking in the bath at the hotel, dreaming of a hot tub I know of at 15 Aotea Drive.
And so to bed.
Tuesday, 10 October 2017
Burgos stay put
00 km today - 264 km on Camino Frances - 970 km from Le Puy - 520 to Santiago
I wake quite early, do some of my outstanding blogs and go for breakfast about 09h. I’ve sorted what I will send on to Santiago to lighten the load, in addition to my tent. At the principal Correos (Post Office) for Burgos I land a teller who speaks English. I suspect my pronunciation of “no hablo Espanol” (I do not speak Spanish, literally I have no Spanish) is a bit of a giveaway. We do the business and my pack will be lighter by just over 1 kg.
Then across the road to the Museum of human evolution. Entrance is € 6, and with a pilgrims passport € 4. So I am ready. The receptionist says I am free! Seeing my confusion she asks ‘Are you retired. If so ...”. There are four floors. The bottom floor focuses on the diggings near Atapeurca, a village some 20 km to the north east of Burgos. The displays are well laid out and with some thoughtfulness we are taken back several million years graphically and then brought to the present showing how the land forms and what was under them more especially were formed. In short, several of the oldest Eurasian human fossils have been found at that site. The next floor has, for me, fascinating displays about the various hominid (human related) species: the displays cut to the chase with life sized models of each. I learn that a common feature of most is social cohesion, communal care of the sick and elderly and funeral customs. The top two floors had stuff about Darwin and other more general material.
I had back to the hotel for a siesta. After which I wander up a major boulevard to the north east about 2 km, then down about 1 km south west towards the Rio Arlazon and then west back towards the hotel. My route is a bit like a wedge from a wheel of cheese. And my two fold purpose is to look for bananas and mandarin for my pack tomorrow and to observe the tenement housing and other buildings on my route. I succeed in the first but only once, and as I pick up my selection of two mandarin the shopkeeper talks to me very loudly: as I don’t know what practice I have run foul of, I replace the fruit and walk out with a cheery wave of the hand. My hotel is at the eastern edge of the old town and my route encompasses buildings that look to be from the last 40 years. Nothing spectacular except for the great sense of spaciousness: wide radiating boulevards with double carriageways in each direction separated by wide grassed areas and with generous connecting streets.
For dinner I decide to look for Menu del dia place closer to the hotel: and I find it. It is dark and just after 19h and I am the only patron but the only person grunts and waves down to a connected sandwich bar (with an entrance to another street. The young woman pleasantly points me back to the restaurant: this is some internal issue I cant resolve so leave. And a few moments later find a hoke in the wall offering Doner Kebab, just as I would find in Courtenay Place and for a lesser price.
Within the hour I am soaking in the bath at the hotel, dreaming of a hot tub I know of at 15 Aotea Drive.
And so to bed.
day 37 bis (a)– draft - Monday, 9 October 2017 Burgos stay put
day 37 bis (a) – draft
Monday, 9 October 2017
Burgos stay put
00 km today - 264 km on Camino Frances - 970 km from Le Puy - 520 to Santiago
A well trained choir is piped through to us from 07h. A good breakfast is provided and I am gone by 08h.
And I am going to check in to an hotel, and not any hotel but the one I stayed at l8 months while resting before removing to London. First business to understand why the Orange internet service I bought in Estella nearly a week ago stopped working on Sunday afternoon. I don’t understand what I am told in fractured English, but I do get the impression it was a known problem.
Then to report to my travel insurer a fall I had last Wednesday, the invisible effects of which do not seem to be moderating. I had taken what looked to be the path but which led to a dead end. As I turned about, tablet in hand and looking at others on the real path about 50 metres away, I stumbled on some vegetation underfoot. The only outcome was pain in a small area just to the right of my left armpit. And then only when I coughed or blew my nose or, I discovered that night, when rolling over. There were no visible marks or bruising. The area is where the shoulder strap sweeps down the side. And where I have a shoulder strap pouch stuffed with a pair of thick gloves. Oh well. The only good aspect of reporting the incident to the travel insurers is I get the name and address of the hospital they want me to use. Foreboding sets in: it is the same hospital I went to last year. Then they took one x-ray shot and diagnosed Osteo-Arthritis. Whereas the NHS hospital took multiple shots and said no to that. Oh well. I go anyway and encounter a local who also speaks enough English to get me through admission. I go to the waiting room and hear some announcements. But it is not my name. Wrong. But my new friend scurries back and sets me on the right path to room Triage 2. From there I am taken to area Control B and put in quite a full holding room with beds and wheel chairs, other like me and supporters. Many announcements, and, remembering the first waiting room experience, I check my place in the queue – five ahead. I have all the time in the world, but don’t want to stuff up their process. After a while someone comes to the doorway, looks at me and says “Alan” – no mistake.
The doctor has a good approach and some English: we do well, nice focussed exam and she orders some x-rays. Three this time. For one I have to put my hands above my head: it is painful to start and then eases off – have I found an exercise? There are no break or fractures: take things easy and lighten the load. Oh, and paracetamol. I had arrived about 15h30 and leave about 18h. I am content with the process, unlike the rushed and, I thought, very superficial experience 18 months before. Different to the ED at Wellington Hospital where you are taken to one of 18 cubicles when one is available and as the urgency at triage determines and where you can still wait some time. Here the waiting was to be taken to the nearby doctors room for the consult. Compared to Wellington it somehow seemed more efficient with respect to the scarce resource: a doctor.
Nightfall is about an hour away and I decide to walk the 3 km directly back to my hotel along a wide boulevard.
I freshen up and go looking for dinner. This should be a Menu del dia (fixed price) with English so I can order in confidence. After a lovely stroll though Plaza Mayor (Main Square) I find myself just to the west of the Cathedral and outside the place I found 18 months ago. After a while a German with an English menu sits down and we talk: he is cycling to Santiago from the French border and expects to do about 40 to 50 km a day.
And so to bed.
Monday, 9 October 2017
Burgos stay put
00 km today - 264 km on Camino Frances - 970 km from Le Puy - 520 to Santiago
A well trained choir is piped through to us from 07h. A good breakfast is provided and I am gone by 08h.
And I am going to check in to an hotel, and not any hotel but the one I stayed at l8 months while resting before removing to London. First business to understand why the Orange internet service I bought in Estella nearly a week ago stopped working on Sunday afternoon. I don’t understand what I am told in fractured English, but I do get the impression it was a known problem.
Then to report to my travel insurer a fall I had last Wednesday, the invisible effects of which do not seem to be moderating. I had taken what looked to be the path but which led to a dead end. As I turned about, tablet in hand and looking at others on the real path about 50 metres away, I stumbled on some vegetation underfoot. The only outcome was pain in a small area just to the right of my left armpit. And then only when I coughed or blew my nose or, I discovered that night, when rolling over. There were no visible marks or bruising. The area is where the shoulder strap sweeps down the side. And where I have a shoulder strap pouch stuffed with a pair of thick gloves. Oh well. The only good aspect of reporting the incident to the travel insurers is I get the name and address of the hospital they want me to use. Foreboding sets in: it is the same hospital I went to last year. Then they took one x-ray shot and diagnosed Osteo-Arthritis. Whereas the NHS hospital took multiple shots and said no to that. Oh well. I go anyway and encounter a local who also speaks enough English to get me through admission. I go to the waiting room and hear some announcements. But it is not my name. Wrong. But my new friend scurries back and sets me on the right path to room Triage 2. From there I am taken to area Control B and put in quite a full holding room with beds and wheel chairs, other like me and supporters. Many announcements, and, remembering the first waiting room experience, I check my place in the queue – five ahead. I have all the time in the world, but don’t want to stuff up their process. After a while someone comes to the doorway, looks at me and says “Alan” – no mistake.
The doctor has a good approach and some English: we do well, nice focussed exam and she orders some x-rays. Three this time. For one I have to put my hands above my head: it is painful to start and then eases off – have I found an exercise? There are no break or fractures: take things easy and lighten the load. Oh, and paracetamol. I had arrived about 15h30 and leave about 18h. I am content with the process, unlike the rushed and, I thought, very superficial experience 18 months before. Different to the ED at Wellington Hospital where you are taken to one of 18 cubicles when one is available and as the urgency at triage determines and where you can still wait some time. Here the waiting was to be taken to the nearby doctors room for the consult. Compared to Wellington it somehow seemed more efficient with respect to the scarce resource: a doctor.
Nightfall is about an hour away and I decide to walk the 3 km directly back to my hotel along a wide boulevard.
I freshen up and go looking for dinner. This should be a Menu del dia (fixed price) with English so I can order in confidence. After a lovely stroll though Plaza Mayor (Main Square) I find myself just to the west of the Cathedral and outside the place I found 18 months ago. After a while a German with an English menu sits down and we talk: he is cycling to Santiago from the French border and expects to do about 40 to 50 km a day.
And so to bed.
11 October 2017
day 36 – draft Sunday, 8 October 2017 San Juan Ortega (Saint John of the nettles) to Burgos
day 36 – draft
Sunday, 8 October 2017
San Juan Ortega (Saint John of the nettles) to Burgos
28 km today – 292 km on Camino Frances - 998 km from Le Puy - 492 to Santiago
Most of the pilgrims (about 50 in all) are up an hour before sunrise getting ready: in some ways no different to tramping in the Tararuas. There is no breakfast. When getting ready I talk with a Hollander disabled, he says, by small pox. As we talk he is in a sporting wheel chair. He tells me he has a ‘long nosed’ tri-cycle that he will transfer to and propel using his hands and that he and his two companions use major roads. As I leave moonlight guides me, and I have chosen the roads also. About 30 minutes later I am passed with a whoop from two on long-nosed tri-cycles sandwiching one on a regular bike.
The N-120 is the major road to Burgos and I reach it just after sunrise. By now the Camino from French border is some 4 km directly north of me. Then begins the walk proper to Burgos. About an hour later I encounter substantial remains of what looks like a (former) railway bridge. There is enough room for a wide carriage way through the remaining archway with a second archway substantially demolished to allow the full width N-120 to have a gently banked curve. But what purpose did this railway serve? No immediate answers are to hand.
Shortly I reach the settlement of Ibeas and a watering hole named Cantina: time for breakfast. Two bocadillos pollo are good complete with cafe americano and fresh narajana juice. It is about 8 km along the N-120 to the next decision point. I try hitching but no one seems interested. The heat (about 25 c) is quite oppressive and my left forearm is getting quite red. Why did I think sun screen would not be needed nearly half way through autumn?
I reach my decision point just after midday. I can either continue ahead on more roads into Burgos or cross the Rio Arlazon (more like a stream at this point) and follow a reputed tree lined pathway. Either route is about 6 km. I chose the later and find a rocky path with low sparse vegetation and no shade. After a while the path improves, the vegetation get higher and closer to the path and I encounter what must be several thousand Burgoese of all shapes, sizes and ages having a Sunday afternoon stroll. And the Rio Arlazon grows in volume also.
I arrive at my selected (parrochial) albergue just after 14h. I am the first for the day, closely followed by two young women who started that morning at Atapeurca, about 6 km on from San Juan Ortega. I have a lie down for two hours then into the old city centre about 1 km away, checking out when the Museum of Human Evolution is open. On my back I encounter the Portugese from Viloria (Friday) and San Juan (Saturday): we greet one aonther, I thank him for the wine, we shake hands and part. Mass in the modern parish church is at 19h30 followed by a pilgrims blessig followed by a nourishing dinner shared with five other pilgrims (all in their early 20s) and the hospitalera.
And so to bed.
Sunday, 8 October 2017
San Juan Ortega (Saint John of the nettles) to Burgos
28 km today – 292 km on Camino Frances - 998 km from Le Puy - 492 to Santiago
Most of the pilgrims (about 50 in all) are up an hour before sunrise getting ready: in some ways no different to tramping in the Tararuas. There is no breakfast. When getting ready I talk with a Hollander disabled, he says, by small pox. As we talk he is in a sporting wheel chair. He tells me he has a ‘long nosed’ tri-cycle that he will transfer to and propel using his hands and that he and his two companions use major roads. As I leave moonlight guides me, and I have chosen the roads also. About 30 minutes later I am passed with a whoop from two on long-nosed tri-cycles sandwiching one on a regular bike.
The N-120 is the major road to Burgos and I reach it just after sunrise. By now the Camino from French border is some 4 km directly north of me. Then begins the walk proper to Burgos. About an hour later I encounter substantial remains of what looks like a (former) railway bridge. There is enough room for a wide carriage way through the remaining archway with a second archway substantially demolished to allow the full width N-120 to have a gently banked curve. But what purpose did this railway serve? No immediate answers are to hand.
Shortly I reach the settlement of Ibeas and a watering hole named Cantina: time for breakfast. Two bocadillos pollo are good complete with cafe americano and fresh narajana juice. It is about 8 km along the N-120 to the next decision point. I try hitching but no one seems interested. The heat (about 25 c) is quite oppressive and my left forearm is getting quite red. Why did I think sun screen would not be needed nearly half way through autumn?
I reach my decision point just after midday. I can either continue ahead on more roads into Burgos or cross the Rio Arlazon (more like a stream at this point) and follow a reputed tree lined pathway. Either route is about 6 km. I chose the later and find a rocky path with low sparse vegetation and no shade. After a while the path improves, the vegetation get higher and closer to the path and I encounter what must be several thousand Burgoese of all shapes, sizes and ages having a Sunday afternoon stroll. And the Rio Arlazon grows in volume also.
I arrive at my selected (parrochial) albergue just after 14h. I am the first for the day, closely followed by two young women who started that morning at Atapeurca, about 6 km on from San Juan Ortega. I have a lie down for two hours then into the old city centre about 1 km away, checking out when the Museum of Human Evolution is open. On my back I encounter the Portugese from Viloria (Friday) and San Juan (Saturday): we greet one aonther, I thank him for the wine, we shake hands and part. Mass in the modern parish church is at 19h30 followed by a pilgrims blessig followed by a nourishing dinner shared with five other pilgrims (all in their early 20s) and the hospitalera.
And so to bed.
10 October 2017
day 35 – draft Saturday, 7 October 2017 Viloria de Rioja to San Juan Ortega
day 35 – draft
Saturday, 7 October 2017
Viloria de Rioja to San Juan Ortega
32 km today - 264 km on Camino Frances - 970 km from Le Puy - 520 to Santiago
Again woke about 07h, the clothes that were washed last night are quite dry, lovely breakfast, packed and gone by 08h.
Belorado is about 8 km on and arrive just before 10h. On the outskirts is a church with the common bells hanging at the west end, along with a magnificent birds nest on top closest to the road: and the head of what looks like a bird peeping over the top. Remembering in some places storks nest in such places, the better to see the signal to make a baby delivery, I am determined to get a photo of such a prescient creature. Going up a side road (and getting stares from the local residents) I take a shot, but the head does not move. It is in fact a piece of the stonework: no babies expected at this time then! Coffee and orange juice stop and on my way.
At Tosantos I stop to photo an interesting structure set into the hill side on the other side of a stream. It looks like a dwelling with a large paved area in front. While doing this a father and son on bikes arrive. They have English so we chat for a while and take photos of one another. Some time later I remember an undertaking I made to my son in London and, finding a shelter/bust stop I sit down to complete this. What would the early pilgrims have thought of all this!!
Just after 13h I arrive at Villafranca Montes de Oca, having completed around 20km. Part of me says stop here tonight, but another part says get to Burgos (40 km from here) on Sunday. I have a long stop, talk to a young American woman from Florida (originally Ohio), say both offices outside the closed church and at about 15h head up the hill. Villafranca is at about 950 m above sea level (asl) and the high point of the hill is 1150 m asl and about 4 km away. The average rate of climb is not significant – 50 metres up for every 1 km along – piece of cake! The reality is different: quite steep sections followed by much less steep bits, but I make good time to the height.
Now, please let me take you back to Azofra two days ago. I walked around that village and above the entrance to the parish church were about 12 names of those who, as I understood the words above, died for their country fighting communism between 1936 and 1939. At the height of Montes de Oca, 4 km from Villafranca, is an obelisk remembering some 300 who were shot (in this locality?) in the first three months of the Civil War starting in 1936. As I understand it they did for their country fighting fascism. I take some comfort that I live in a country that has known political extremes from time to time, but avoided widespread violence against one another.
After a time for reflection and other stuff I move off with 8 km to San Juan Ortega: this is a very gentle 100 m descent. But it is tiring. Clearly the pines on either side are felled for use as I often see large stacks waiting for the next stage. I reach the albergue at 16h15. Mass started at 18h and dinner is at 18h30. Dinner is quite grand. The Portugese from Viloria de Rioja had arrived just before and comes to sit next to me: I am beside myself with joy as he buys a bottle of wine and refuses my contribution. He video calls his wife (living in Britain) and brings me into the conversation. I am dog tired.
And so to bed.
Saturday, 7 October 2017
Viloria de Rioja to San Juan Ortega
32 km today - 264 km on Camino Frances - 970 km from Le Puy - 520 to Santiago
Again woke about 07h, the clothes that were washed last night are quite dry, lovely breakfast, packed and gone by 08h.
Belorado is about 8 km on and arrive just before 10h. On the outskirts is a church with the common bells hanging at the west end, along with a magnificent birds nest on top closest to the road: and the head of what looks like a bird peeping over the top. Remembering in some places storks nest in such places, the better to see the signal to make a baby delivery, I am determined to get a photo of such a prescient creature. Going up a side road (and getting stares from the local residents) I take a shot, but the head does not move. It is in fact a piece of the stonework: no babies expected at this time then! Coffee and orange juice stop and on my way.
At Tosantos I stop to photo an interesting structure set into the hill side on the other side of a stream. It looks like a dwelling with a large paved area in front. While doing this a father and son on bikes arrive. They have English so we chat for a while and take photos of one another. Some time later I remember an undertaking I made to my son in London and, finding a shelter/bust stop I sit down to complete this. What would the early pilgrims have thought of all this!!
Just after 13h I arrive at Villafranca Montes de Oca, having completed around 20km. Part of me says stop here tonight, but another part says get to Burgos (40 km from here) on Sunday. I have a long stop, talk to a young American woman from Florida (originally Ohio), say both offices outside the closed church and at about 15h head up the hill. Villafranca is at about 950 m above sea level (asl) and the high point of the hill is 1150 m asl and about 4 km away. The average rate of climb is not significant – 50 metres up for every 1 km along – piece of cake! The reality is different: quite steep sections followed by much less steep bits, but I make good time to the height.
Now, please let me take you back to Azofra two days ago. I walked around that village and above the entrance to the parish church were about 12 names of those who, as I understood the words above, died for their country fighting communism between 1936 and 1939. At the height of Montes de Oca, 4 km from Villafranca, is an obelisk remembering some 300 who were shot (in this locality?) in the first three months of the Civil War starting in 1936. As I understand it they did for their country fighting fascism. I take some comfort that I live in a country that has known political extremes from time to time, but avoided widespread violence against one another.
After a time for reflection and other stuff I move off with 8 km to San Juan Ortega: this is a very gentle 100 m descent. But it is tiring. Clearly the pines on either side are felled for use as I often see large stacks waiting for the next stage. I reach the albergue at 16h15. Mass started at 18h and dinner is at 18h30. Dinner is quite grand. The Portugese from Viloria de Rioja had arrived just before and comes to sit next to me: I am beside myself with joy as he buys a bottle of wine and refuses my contribution. He video calls his wife (living in Britain) and brings me into the conversation. I am dog tired.
And so to bed.
day 34 – draft Friday, 6 October 2017 Azofra to Viloria de Rioja
day 34 – draft
Friday, 6 October 2017
Azofra to Viloria de Rioja
31 km today - 236 km on Camino Frances - 969 km from Le Puy - 551 to Santiago
Woke about 07h, packed and gone by 08h. Sunrise is about 15 minutes later but I cant find a setting on my camera that shows the colours of the sky. After 10 km I pass through the outskirts of Ciruena. This looks like a dormitory suburb. I get the impression several housing developments were been started some time ago and not progressed. Wikipedia say the town has a population of 131 and I have passed several of them at about 10h.
Six km on is Santo Domingo de Calzada – Saint Dominic of the Causeway. I stop here for breakfast and lunch and to inspect the Cathedral and very significant museum on the north side. On later reflection I believe the museum occupies the (former) monastic rooms around a cloister. If so, the cloister is unusually situated on the north side and would be shaded by the cathedral proper. Inside the cathedral there is reinstatement work for the stonework of the choir underway. The chancel has an interesting arrangement. There is a U shaped bench seat furthest from the people, with the bishop’s seat given prominence in the middle. This bench seat is on a wooden platform that extends towards the people and on which is the altar, presiders seat and an ambo for readings and sermons. Were I to sit in the bishop’s chair and looked slightly left of centre I would see an elevated, glass (?) fronted cage containing a rooster and hen. The rooster regularly crows. To learn more please visit https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dominic_de_la_Calzada and scroll down.
On leaving Santo Domingo I cross the River Oja by means of a very substantial bridge. The river is very wide and I can imagine after rain this river would be treacherous. But today it is quite dry. It is about here that Saint Dominic around 1150 had first a causeway, and later a bridge, built for the needs of pilgrims to Santiago.
A further 8 km on is Granon. The cafe owner shows me a photo of another kilt wearing pilgrim. Having said the afternoon office and having consumed one coffee (cafe americano, por favor), two orange juice drinks and one banana I am off.
After yet another stage of 8 km I reach the village of Viloria de Rioja. The sign boards for the alberque Acieto have an appeal. I head for it and am warmly greeted by the owner: it is late in the day and she is busy preparing the communal meal. As it has been a hot day, all the clothing worn is sodden. I put it to one side and have a lie down. When dinner is called there are six pilgrims, the owner and her partner sitting down. Going around the table a male Hollander, a male German, a couple from Bolivia, a male from Portugal (or Brazil), the Italian owner and her partner, and a female from Brazil. We are quite an animated lot. I arrange for my clothes to be machine washed (cold cycle) and they mostly dry quite quickly.
And so to bed.
Friday, 6 October 2017
Azofra to Viloria de Rioja
31 km today - 236 km on Camino Frances - 969 km from Le Puy - 551 to Santiago
Woke about 07h, packed and gone by 08h. Sunrise is about 15 minutes later but I cant find a setting on my camera that shows the colours of the sky. After 10 km I pass through the outskirts of Ciruena. This looks like a dormitory suburb. I get the impression several housing developments were been started some time ago and not progressed. Wikipedia say the town has a population of 131 and I have passed several of them at about 10h.
Six km on is Santo Domingo de Calzada – Saint Dominic of the Causeway. I stop here for breakfast and lunch and to inspect the Cathedral and very significant museum on the north side. On later reflection I believe the museum occupies the (former) monastic rooms around a cloister. If so, the cloister is unusually situated on the north side and would be shaded by the cathedral proper. Inside the cathedral there is reinstatement work for the stonework of the choir underway. The chancel has an interesting arrangement. There is a U shaped bench seat furthest from the people, with the bishop’s seat given prominence in the middle. This bench seat is on a wooden platform that extends towards the people and on which is the altar, presiders seat and an ambo for readings and sermons. Were I to sit in the bishop’s chair and looked slightly left of centre I would see an elevated, glass (?) fronted cage containing a rooster and hen. The rooster regularly crows. To learn more please visit https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dominic_de_la_Calzada and scroll down.
On leaving Santo Domingo I cross the River Oja by means of a very substantial bridge. The river is very wide and I can imagine after rain this river would be treacherous. But today it is quite dry. It is about here that Saint Dominic around 1150 had first a causeway, and later a bridge, built for the needs of pilgrims to Santiago.
A further 8 km on is Granon. The cafe owner shows me a photo of another kilt wearing pilgrim. Having said the afternoon office and having consumed one coffee (cafe americano, por favor), two orange juice drinks and one banana I am off.
After yet another stage of 8 km I reach the village of Viloria de Rioja. The sign boards for the alberque Acieto have an appeal. I head for it and am warmly greeted by the owner: it is late in the day and she is busy preparing the communal meal. As it has been a hot day, all the clothing worn is sodden. I put it to one side and have a lie down. When dinner is called there are six pilgrims, the owner and her partner sitting down. Going around the table a male Hollander, a male German, a couple from Bolivia, a male from Portugal (or Brazil), the Italian owner and her partner, and a female from Brazil. We are quite an animated lot. I arrange for my clothes to be machine washed (cold cycle) and they mostly dry quite quickly.
And so to bed.
06 October 2017
day 33 - draft - Thursday, 5 October 2017 - Torres del Rio to Azofra
day 33 - draft
Thursday, 5 October 2017
Torres del Rio to Azofra
57 km today (17 walked and 40 by bus – see below)
205 km on Camino Frances - 938 km from Le Puy - 582 to Santiago
During the wee small hours I had done my blog and looked at a strategy for the day ahead. I surprise my self by waking as late as 07h, with lights on and most of the 15 or so others in the albergue quietly busying themselves. I pack and join the end of the breakfast rush and away shortly after 08h (which is daylight and before sunrise). Quite a steep pull up and after about 30 minutes pass my Austrian of last night sitting with a cigarello: we acknowledge one another.
Some time later I encounter an American in his fifties: we have a double entendre about left and right (geography or ...) and we keep in step for a few kilometres and encounter two men (looking like grandfather and grandson) doing something around a tree. My companion speaks Spanish and he an the elder have a spirited conversation. They have spread a large fine net around the base of the tree and they beat the branches with what could also be used as walking staves. The elder takes the outer smooth husk of two and gives them to me and my companion. Now they look like almonds shells that I remember from way back when: my companion tells me inside is an olive.
A woman passes (whom my American had told me when we passed her 100 metres earlier was a Kiwi) and I decide to chat with her. She is from Kapiti Coast. So, chancing my arm, I ask is she belongs to a forum about the camino to Santiago (yes) and did she ask a question about hill training opportunities in her area (yes) and did she find the walk up to Field Hut from Otaki Forks helpful (yes). Was that you, she asks (yes). We continue chatting and the remainder of the trip into Viana passes quickly enough, arriving about 10h30, We have a light meal together opposite a large open church, finishing just after 11h.
Now I will reveal my strategy for today.
You will recall last year I suffered pulled muscles and Estella was my effective stopping point. Not quite right: I had bused forward to Logrono and after a few days “rest” walked, over two days, the 30 km to Najera. So today I will bus the last 10 km to Logrono and another bus to Najera.
The bus stop at Viana takes an act of faith. I first ask the driver of a postal service yellow van. He asks an old man, who takes me in hand. Its about 100 metres down the road I was going to take anyway, then a left turn to a road that parallels the main road below. We stop at an X intersection and by sign language am told this is the bus stop. I can see one woman standing in the sun on the edge of a very wide pedestrian crossing and some large collection bins for clothing, but nothing else. But the woman and the old man are content. So I shake his hand to thank him. It is about 11h15 and the bus is due at 11h30. I then notice a man (about the same age as the woman) in shade on the opposite side of the road. I get the impression he also is waiting for the same bus, and (I find out later) will see its imminent arrival long before we do. (Why, I ask myself silently and with these facts before me, is the male of the species the more intelligent). As we close up on 11h30 a small crowd has gathered and the bus wooshes up the main road to stop by the clothing collection bins.
For the last 2-300 metres into Najera the bus and the walking way share the same space and I see many pilgrims (peregrinos) doing it the normal way. Shortly after arrival I importune a woman to take a photo of me against a backdrop of almost sheer red cliffs and then retire for three hours into a small bar and cafe I encountered last year for lunch (and just one beer!!!).
I set off about 16h30 and arrive at Azofra a little over an hour later, passing though mainly vineyards. While quite warm, a gentle breeze is most welcome and none of the stickiness and voluminous perspiration of yesterday. Azofra, Wikipedia tells me, has almost 300 residents and an ancient history with the name having Arabic connections. The albergue is a veritable oasis: three stories and offers 60 beds (not bunks), kitchen, laundry, large refectory and even larger outdoor gathering space with an ornamental pool and fountain. All provided and maintained by the (not large) Municipality of Azofra. Being a relatively late arrival, I am on the top floor, but I am not last in. I walk around the village, buy some food for Friday lunch and return to recharge my tablet. Just after 20h I am starting to drop, despite having not walked much today.
And so to bed.
Thursday, 5 October 2017
Torres del Rio to Azofra
57 km today (17 walked and 40 by bus – see below)
205 km on Camino Frances - 938 km from Le Puy - 582 to Santiago
During the wee small hours I had done my blog and looked at a strategy for the day ahead. I surprise my self by waking as late as 07h, with lights on and most of the 15 or so others in the albergue quietly busying themselves. I pack and join the end of the breakfast rush and away shortly after 08h (which is daylight and before sunrise). Quite a steep pull up and after about 30 minutes pass my Austrian of last night sitting with a cigarello: we acknowledge one another.
Some time later I encounter an American in his fifties: we have a double entendre about left and right (geography or ...) and we keep in step for a few kilometres and encounter two men (looking like grandfather and grandson) doing something around a tree. My companion speaks Spanish and he an the elder have a spirited conversation. They have spread a large fine net around the base of the tree and they beat the branches with what could also be used as walking staves. The elder takes the outer smooth husk of two and gives them to me and my companion. Now they look like almonds shells that I remember from way back when: my companion tells me inside is an olive.
A woman passes (whom my American had told me when we passed her 100 metres earlier was a Kiwi) and I decide to chat with her. She is from Kapiti Coast. So, chancing my arm, I ask is she belongs to a forum about the camino to Santiago (yes) and did she ask a question about hill training opportunities in her area (yes) and did she find the walk up to Field Hut from Otaki Forks helpful (yes). Was that you, she asks (yes). We continue chatting and the remainder of the trip into Viana passes quickly enough, arriving about 10h30, We have a light meal together opposite a large open church, finishing just after 11h.
Now I will reveal my strategy for today.
You will recall last year I suffered pulled muscles and Estella was my effective stopping point. Not quite right: I had bused forward to Logrono and after a few days “rest” walked, over two days, the 30 km to Najera. So today I will bus the last 10 km to Logrono and another bus to Najera.
The bus stop at Viana takes an act of faith. I first ask the driver of a postal service yellow van. He asks an old man, who takes me in hand. Its about 100 metres down the road I was going to take anyway, then a left turn to a road that parallels the main road below. We stop at an X intersection and by sign language am told this is the bus stop. I can see one woman standing in the sun on the edge of a very wide pedestrian crossing and some large collection bins for clothing, but nothing else. But the woman and the old man are content. So I shake his hand to thank him. It is about 11h15 and the bus is due at 11h30. I then notice a man (about the same age as the woman) in shade on the opposite side of the road. I get the impression he also is waiting for the same bus, and (I find out later) will see its imminent arrival long before we do. (Why, I ask myself silently and with these facts before me, is the male of the species the more intelligent). As we close up on 11h30 a small crowd has gathered and the bus wooshes up the main road to stop by the clothing collection bins.
For the last 2-300 metres into Najera the bus and the walking way share the same space and I see many pilgrims (peregrinos) doing it the normal way. Shortly after arrival I importune a woman to take a photo of me against a backdrop of almost sheer red cliffs and then retire for three hours into a small bar and cafe I encountered last year for lunch (and just one beer!!!).
I set off about 16h30 and arrive at Azofra a little over an hour later, passing though mainly vineyards. While quite warm, a gentle breeze is most welcome and none of the stickiness and voluminous perspiration of yesterday. Azofra, Wikipedia tells me, has almost 300 residents and an ancient history with the name having Arabic connections. The albergue is a veritable oasis: three stories and offers 60 beds (not bunks), kitchen, laundry, large refectory and even larger outdoor gathering space with an ornamental pool and fountain. All provided and maintained by the (not large) Municipality of Azofra. Being a relatively late arrival, I am on the top floor, but I am not last in. I walk around the village, buy some food for Friday lunch and return to recharge my tablet. Just after 20h I am starting to drop, despite having not walked much today.
And so to bed.
05 October 2017
day 32 – draft Wednesday, 4 October 2017 Estella / Lizarra to Torres del Rio
day 32 – draft
Wednesday, 4 October 2017
Estella to Torres del Rio
30 km today - 145 km on Camino Frances - 878 km to date - 635 to Santiago
Lights on at 06 hours. Good basic breakfast provided by hospitaleros. Hugs farewell and on the road by 07 hours. Wine fountain about 30 minutes later. And 500 m on decide to take the alternative route. A steady climb to xxx m above sea level and the better views are worth it. For some of the time the route is through 3 metres high scrub and gives good shade, even though the sun has just risen. Re-join ye main route: this has been slow – 13 km (route distance) in well over 3 hours. The wine fountain took 10 minutes, loo stop al la fresco about 20 minutes and a morning tea stop (really a rest, but I’m not admitting to this) at the highest point (also about 10 minutes) may account for the slowness.
Those who are squeamish or of a delicate constitution should skip the next paragraph.
In 2016 I had continual problems with bowel movements (you have been warned) in that they often seemed uncontrolled and uncontrollable and often very liquid like (but not of the Karitane yellow variety). This was not something I had encountered in my training. Looking back it seemed the route did not have many natural hides – often barbed wire fences on both sides of the track or no trees or just very busy. But there seemed more to it than that. Medical advice brought forward a diagnosis of a loose anal sphincter and a recommendation to try Kegels exercise, omitting only the test of proper application used by the females of the species. My diligence in applying this exercise was less than brilliant and I was in fear of severely embarrassing myself on route. Today, while walking through the scrub, it occurred I had natural cover and a short while later felt an urge. Finding a hide off track I carried on. And brought my yellow plastic spade into play as well. I tell this rather long winded story as a way of reinforcing my learning. Now read on.
I re-join the main route with 9 km to the next town, Los Arcos. Shortly after I take quite a long breather and demolish the second banana, the remainder of the mandarins and some cheese I had bought in Estella. At about 12h30 I reach the church plaza. The church is open: I go inside and say the morning office. There is a light meal shop in the plaza so have a lunch of paella and beer. I’m dreading carrying on as the heat is almost unbearable (22 in the shade with a “real feel” of 25).
The next town is 8 km on. At about 15h a group of three youngsters take off.
I decide to follow on after and catch them up after 3 km, but only because they, and quite a few others, have taken refuge in the shade of the only tree on the whole 8 km. I stop also. Several of them had started from Saint-Jean (just the other side of the Pyrenees, in France) a week ago and had covered about 20 km a day. This was, they said, the first time they were attempting more: they are walking because of word of mouth. They would get as far as they could in the next few days and then head home. Some of them have massive packs. I get a feeling some will return and do some more next year.
Sansol comes up surprisingly quickly and I carry on the 600 metres to Torres del Rio. The first albergue I encounter is a very recent large building. It is in fact a hotel with 9 bunks (18 beds in one large room). I wash nearly all my clothes, save only the longyi (a tube worn by both men and women in Myanmar): mine is made of a very light, almost diaphanous, cotton.
I’ve booked for dinner and go to the restaurant about 19h30. I am about to sit down by myself when the (so far) only male at an adjoining table asks if I am alone and would I care to join with him. The table sits 8 and soon two youngish men from Israel join us. Shortly after two women arrive and (having been properly educated) I stand, of course. The first man motion the other two to also stand and the women are quite amused. The table is complete with two more youngish Israelis.
The man is an Austrian medical man (radiography), the women are German from Mannheim and two of the Israelis work in a restaurant (as owners is the impression I have) in Tel Aviv. We find things to chat about and after 21h we move outside so some can smoke. I speak mainly with the Austrian and mainly about the EU. The Israelis say they walk because it is there and is a big change from day to day life in a city or town. I leave the party just before 23h.
It is clear to me the walking kilt thing I wear is a conversation starter. Some just want to discover they have identified “my” country (Scotland) correctly but for others it leads on.
And so to bed.
Wednesday, 4 October 2017
Estella to Torres del Rio
30 km today - 145 km on Camino Frances - 878 km to date - 635 to Santiago
Lights on at 06 hours. Good basic breakfast provided by hospitaleros. Hugs farewell and on the road by 07 hours. Wine fountain about 30 minutes later. And 500 m on decide to take the alternative route. A steady climb to xxx m above sea level and the better views are worth it. For some of the time the route is through 3 metres high scrub and gives good shade, even though the sun has just risen. Re-join ye main route: this has been slow – 13 km (route distance) in well over 3 hours. The wine fountain took 10 minutes, loo stop al la fresco about 20 minutes and a morning tea stop (really a rest, but I’m not admitting to this) at the highest point (also about 10 minutes) may account for the slowness.
Those who are squeamish or of a delicate constitution should skip the next paragraph.
In 2016 I had continual problems with bowel movements (you have been warned) in that they often seemed uncontrolled and uncontrollable and often very liquid like (but not of the Karitane yellow variety). This was not something I had encountered in my training. Looking back it seemed the route did not have many natural hides – often barbed wire fences on both sides of the track or no trees or just very busy. But there seemed more to it than that. Medical advice brought forward a diagnosis of a loose anal sphincter and a recommendation to try Kegels exercise, omitting only the test of proper application used by the females of the species. My diligence in applying this exercise was less than brilliant and I was in fear of severely embarrassing myself on route. Today, while walking through the scrub, it occurred I had natural cover and a short while later felt an urge. Finding a hide off track I carried on. And brought my yellow plastic spade into play as well. I tell this rather long winded story as a way of reinforcing my learning. Now read on.
I re-join the main route with 9 km to the next town, Los Arcos. Shortly after I take quite a long breather and demolish the second banana, the remainder of the mandarins and some cheese I had bought in Estella. At about 12h30 I reach the church plaza. The church is open: I go inside and say the morning office. There is a light meal shop in the plaza so have a lunch of paella and beer. I’m dreading carrying on as the heat is almost unbearable (22 in the shade with a “real feel” of 25).
The next town is 8 km on. At about 15h a group of three youngsters take off.
I decide to follow on after and catch them up after 3 km, but only because they, and quite a few others, have taken refuge in the shade of the only tree on the whole 8 km. I stop also. Several of them had started from Saint-Jean (just the other side of the Pyrenees, in France) a week ago and had covered about 20 km a day. This was, they said, the first time they were attempting more: they are walking because of word of mouth. They would get as far as they could in the next few days and then head home. Some of them have massive packs. I get a feeling some will return and do some more next year.
Sansol comes up surprisingly quickly and I carry on the 600 metres to Torres del Rio. The first albergue I encounter is a very recent large building. It is in fact a hotel with 9 bunks (18 beds in one large room). I wash nearly all my clothes, save only the longyi (a tube worn by both men and women in Myanmar): mine is made of a very light, almost diaphanous, cotton.
I’ve booked for dinner and go to the restaurant about 19h30. I am about to sit down by myself when the (so far) only male at an adjoining table asks if I am alone and would I care to join with him. The table sits 8 and soon two youngish men from Israel join us. Shortly after two women arrive and (having been properly educated) I stand, of course. The first man motion the other two to also stand and the women are quite amused. The table is complete with two more youngish Israelis.
The man is an Austrian medical man (radiography), the women are German from Mannheim and two of the Israelis work in a restaurant (as owners is the impression I have) in Tel Aviv. We find things to chat about and after 21h we move outside so some can smoke. I speak mainly with the Austrian and mainly about the EU. The Israelis say they walk because it is there and is a big change from day to day life in a city or town. I leave the party just before 23h.
It is clear to me the walking kilt thing I wear is a conversation starter. Some just want to discover they have identified “my” country (Scotland) correctly but for others it leads on.
And so to bed.
04 October 2017
day 32 bis (almost) – draft
Tuesday, 3 October 2017
Estella / Lizarra (pronunciation ? Estayia)
00 km today - 115 km on Camino Frances - 848 km to date - 665 to Santiago
My last post of a few days ago described, after I had pulled a bunch of muscles in my right thigh while on the way in early May 2016, what I had done as a consequence.
So, on Sunday, 1 October 2017, I left Wellington and on Tuesday, 3 October arrived back in Estella /Lizarra and back to the albergue (backpackers hostel) that I stayed at 18 months before.
And the adventures began before I arrived there.
On the plane from Wellington to Singapore a young couple had the two sets next to me. They were obviously in the bloom of their relationship. And this was confirmed when a hostess brought a cheesecake, with kiwi fruit on top, two glasses of wine and a card that said “Happy Honeymoon”. They shared cheesecake with me and the husband told me a little of their story: immigrants from eastern Europe who go back for short holidays and with no wish return permanently.
On arrival at London (Heathrow) my eldest son and his son (my grandson) were waiting for me at a fine restaurant near check-in. Luke had made a display board with my name (“Da”) on it, just like the chauffers at the arrivals hall, which he held up the moment I walked in: a grand time together, including handing over a reader from Unity Books, Wellington.
An evening flight to Madrid and coach from there to Logrono (about 350 km) and an “all stops” bus to Estella / Lizarra (about 50 km). My local business takes a lot longer than expected, so I opt to stay here the night. One of the volunteer hospitaleros is Canadian and she knows we have a head of state in common. After a “granny” nap I go and get some dinner – tortilla (tor – ti – yia) patatas. This is the famed Spanish omelette with eggs and potatoes, on this occasion topped with cheese.
And as I get underway a hospitalero and a local reporter interview me (the walking kilt does mark one out) about how I got to Estella and why, along with a photo. I am told the story will be emailed to me when printed – it will be fun translating it back into English.
And so to bed.
Tuesday, 3 October 2017
Estella / Lizarra (pronunciation ? Estayia)
00 km today - 115 km on Camino Frances - 848 km to date - 665 to Santiago
My last post of a few days ago described, after I had pulled a bunch of muscles in my right thigh while on the way in early May 2016, what I had done as a consequence.
So, on Sunday, 1 October 2017, I left Wellington and on Tuesday, 3 October arrived back in Estella /Lizarra and back to the albergue (backpackers hostel) that I stayed at 18 months before.
And the adventures began before I arrived there.
On the plane from Wellington to Singapore a young couple had the two sets next to me. They were obviously in the bloom of their relationship. And this was confirmed when a hostess brought a cheesecake, with kiwi fruit on top, two glasses of wine and a card that said “Happy Honeymoon”. They shared cheesecake with me and the husband told me a little of their story: immigrants from eastern Europe who go back for short holidays and with no wish return permanently.
On arrival at London (Heathrow) my eldest son and his son (my grandson) were waiting for me at a fine restaurant near check-in. Luke had made a display board with my name (“Da”) on it, just like the chauffers at the arrivals hall, which he held up the moment I walked in: a grand time together, including handing over a reader from Unity Books, Wellington.
An evening flight to Madrid and coach from there to Logrono (about 350 km) and an “all stops” bus to Estella / Lizarra (about 50 km). My local business takes a lot longer than expected, so I opt to stay here the night. One of the volunteer hospitaleros is Canadian and she knows we have a head of state in common. After a “granny” nap I go and get some dinner – tortilla (tor – ti – yia) patatas. This is the famed Spanish omelette with eggs and potatoes, on this occasion topped with cheese.
And as I get underway a hospitalero and a local reporter interview me (the walking kilt does mark one out) about how I got to Estella and why, along with a photo. I am told the story will be emailed to me when printed – it will be fun translating it back into English.
And so to bed.
28 September 2017
next steps - return to Estella-Lizarra
Thursday, 28 September 2017
On Thursday, 5 May 2016 I was on day 30 of my walking trip from Le Puy-en-Velay, France and had completed 808 km on arrival at Zalbadika, a small village about 15 km before Pamplona (both in Spain).
Later that day I negotiated the short but steep descent from Alto-del-Perdon towards Uterga, where I stayed the night. The next day, Friday, a severe pain developed in my right thigh. I struggled on to Estella-Lizarra to stay at the parish albergue, still managing to complete 30 km.
On Saturday, on the suggestion of the Brazilian hospitalero, I bused to Logrono, trained to Barcelona, stayed three nights and visit three major buildings designed by Anton Gaudi, returned to Logrono where I stayed the night. On Wednesday walked to Ventosa and Thursday to Najera, both quite short distances with continuing discomfort. Started walking on Friday and soon noticed my rain poncho was missing. Back to Najera to bus to Burgos. Here I got a rain coat and stayed the night in the quite new municipal albergue.
On Saturday morning I was first out of Burgos, but soon overtaken and stop after 10 km. On Sunday I continue 20 km to Hontanas but with much pain towards the end. The next morning I cannot stand except with support and an ambulance is called: I am very emotional when I sit down in the ambulance. Desultory attendance at the large hospital back in Burgos (I feel their diagnosis - osteo arthritis - is based on my age and not my story line). Monday through Friday nights in a 3 star hotel near Burgos city centre and keep bumping into walkers I had met in the past five weeks.
On Saturday, 28 May 2016, I fly to London to stay with my eldest son and his family. The NHS takes a lot of x-rays and the verdict is NOT osteo arthritis, so find an osteopath to manipulate the bones and muscles. The immediate relief is great but still requires exercises to complete the recovery.
During June I do a number of day trips including sections of Thames path centred on Staines, at the western edge of London and near the circular M25.
On Saturday, 25 June 2016, I began Thames Path from the source taking nine days to reach Windsor (the section to Staines I had already completed). In July do more one day sections with my sister-in-law, reaching from Richmond to Vauxhall Station (Waterloo Station was next). I finish Thames Path by starting at Woolwich on a Saturday and walk up stream to Waterloo Station on the Monday. On the Sunday I complete my very long term desire of visiting all mainline railway stations by going to Fenchurch Street and Liverpool Street.
In early August I start out from Southwark Cathedral (close to the modern Globe Theatre and London Bridge) on the south (right) bank of the Thames heading towards Canterbury Cathedral via Rochester Cathedral taking the North Downs Way. On this trip, as on the rural part of Thames Path, my lightweight tent is in frequent use.
As well as walking I do many trips into central London with my 7 year old grandson or by myself. And during term time usually walk with him the 2 km to and from school.
I return home, as scheduled, early September 2016 having been away almost five months. And by now pulled muscles in my right thigh are fully recovered.
From September 2016 to September 2017 I keep up my training walks, review my gear and decide to return in October 2017 to restart from my effective stopping point on Friday, 6 May 2016 of Estella-Lizarra.
I post this a few days before I leave home. My 2017 outward journey is:
1) Depart Wellington 21h15, Sunday, 1 Oct to arrive Heathrow T2 at 15h40, Monday, 2 Oct;
2) Meal with whanau at Heathrow T5 and depart 19h20 to arrive Madrid T4 at 22h45;
3) Depart Madrid T4 bus stop at 01h15, Tuesday, 3 Oct to arrive Logrono at 05h00;
4) Depart Logrono at 07h45, Tuesday, 3 Oct to arrive Estella-Lizarra at 08h49.
Immediate business at Estella is to:
a) get a sello (rubber stamp) in my pilgrim credntial (passport);
b) get a sim card with voice and data for Spain and the rest of Europe (including UK);
c) get a fizz bottle to use with my drinking tube and mouth piece;
d) get going towards the wine fountain 3km down the road and beyond.
My pack and sleeping bag (courtesy zPack), android tablet (Samsung), collapsible porridge bowl (Kathmandu), tops (merino) and shoes (New Balance 860, but latest model) are unchanged. From Estella I will have my 2 person tent (zPack - used for Thames Path and Southwark to Canterbury in 2016), both in case of need in Spain and because of the two trips I currently intend to do in Scotland after arrival at Muxia / Fisterra. All other detail is new. Total weight, including water, tablet (with keyboard and cover) is about 8.5 kg and is what I have carried in my training trips this year.
As with last year, I have some anxiety about how I will get on. But suspect, as with last year, those feelings will evaporate once underway.
Now be ready to read on.
On Thursday, 5 May 2016 I was on day 30 of my walking trip from Le Puy-en-Velay, France and had completed 808 km on arrival at Zalbadika, a small village about 15 km before Pamplona (both in Spain).
Later that day I negotiated the short but steep descent from Alto-del-Perdon towards Uterga, where I stayed the night. The next day, Friday, a severe pain developed in my right thigh. I struggled on to Estella-Lizarra to stay at the parish albergue, still managing to complete 30 km.
On Saturday, on the suggestion of the Brazilian hospitalero, I bused to Logrono, trained to Barcelona, stayed three nights and visit three major buildings designed by Anton Gaudi, returned to Logrono where I stayed the night. On Wednesday walked to Ventosa and Thursday to Najera, both quite short distances with continuing discomfort. Started walking on Friday and soon noticed my rain poncho was missing. Back to Najera to bus to Burgos. Here I got a rain coat and stayed the night in the quite new municipal albergue.
On Saturday morning I was first out of Burgos, but soon overtaken and stop after 10 km. On Sunday I continue 20 km to Hontanas but with much pain towards the end. The next morning I cannot stand except with support and an ambulance is called: I am very emotional when I sit down in the ambulance. Desultory attendance at the large hospital back in Burgos (I feel their diagnosis - osteo arthritis - is based on my age and not my story line). Monday through Friday nights in a 3 star hotel near Burgos city centre and keep bumping into walkers I had met in the past five weeks.
On Saturday, 28 May 2016, I fly to London to stay with my eldest son and his family. The NHS takes a lot of x-rays and the verdict is NOT osteo arthritis, so find an osteopath to manipulate the bones and muscles. The immediate relief is great but still requires exercises to complete the recovery.
During June I do a number of day trips including sections of Thames path centred on Staines, at the western edge of London and near the circular M25.
On Saturday, 25 June 2016, I began Thames Path from the source taking nine days to reach Windsor (the section to Staines I had already completed). In July do more one day sections with my sister-in-law, reaching from Richmond to Vauxhall Station (Waterloo Station was next). I finish Thames Path by starting at Woolwich on a Saturday and walk up stream to Waterloo Station on the Monday. On the Sunday I complete my very long term desire of visiting all mainline railway stations by going to Fenchurch Street and Liverpool Street.
In early August I start out from Southwark Cathedral (close to the modern Globe Theatre and London Bridge) on the south (right) bank of the Thames heading towards Canterbury Cathedral via Rochester Cathedral taking the North Downs Way. On this trip, as on the rural part of Thames Path, my lightweight tent is in frequent use.
As well as walking I do many trips into central London with my 7 year old grandson or by myself. And during term time usually walk with him the 2 km to and from school.
I return home, as scheduled, early September 2016 having been away almost five months. And by now pulled muscles in my right thigh are fully recovered.
From September 2016 to September 2017 I keep up my training walks, review my gear and decide to return in October 2017 to restart from my effective stopping point on Friday, 6 May 2016 of Estella-Lizarra.
I post this a few days before I leave home. My 2017 outward journey is:
1) Depart Wellington 21h15, Sunday, 1 Oct to arrive Heathrow T2 at 15h40, Monday, 2 Oct;
2) Meal with whanau at Heathrow T5 and depart 19h20 to arrive Madrid T4 at 22h45;
3) Depart Madrid T4 bus stop at 01h15, Tuesday, 3 Oct to arrive Logrono at 05h00;
4) Depart Logrono at 07h45, Tuesday, 3 Oct to arrive Estella-Lizarra at 08h49.
Immediate business at Estella is to:
a) get a sello (rubber stamp) in my pilgrim credntial (passport);
b) get a sim card with voice and data for Spain and the rest of Europe (including UK);
c) get a fizz bottle to use with my drinking tube and mouth piece;
d) get going towards the wine fountain 3km down the road and beyond.
My pack and sleeping bag (courtesy zPack), android tablet (Samsung), collapsible porridge bowl (Kathmandu), tops (merino) and shoes (New Balance 860, but latest model) are unchanged. From Estella I will have my 2 person tent (zPack - used for Thames Path and Southwark to Canterbury in 2016), both in case of need in Spain and because of the two trips I currently intend to do in Scotland after arrival at Muxia / Fisterra. All other detail is new. Total weight, including water, tablet (with keyboard and cover) is about 8.5 kg and is what I have carried in my training trips this year.
As with last year, I have some anxiety about how I will get on. But suspect, as with last year, those feelings will evaporate once underway.
Now be ready to read on.
day 31 – draft Friday, 6 May 2016 Uterga to Estella / Lizarra
day 31
– draft
Friday,
6 May 2016
Uterga
to Estella / Lizarra
30 km
today - 115 km on Camino Frances - 848
km to date
Up
with the early mob, breakfast and get going.
Today I have a small 5 km diversion to a unique octagonal chapel at the
locality of Eunate dedicated to Santa Maria.
As I approach the chapel a worrying pain develops at the top of my right
leg. I immediately blame the huge
strides I was taking yesterday coming down the Sierra del Perdon. The chapel looks just like the online photos
and is open at the weekend. I decide not
to wait.
Obanos
is about 5 km away and I do the best I can to get there. At the approach I am struck by the design of
the church tower: it looks decidedly English in style, upright, square and with
higher stone work (pinnacles) in each corner.
Another town with nothing apparently open and I move quickly towards
Puente la Reina. A nice busy town and I
stop to say the morning office in an open church. There is a grand bridge on the way out of
town.
I stay
on the way until Maneru where I take morning tea then take the road to
Cirauqui. Back to the way for the Roman
bridge but soon wish I hadn't. The
descent through the ruins is extremely challenging (because of the pain in my
right hip) as is the climb back up to the way.
Fortunately, the road adjoins the way at this point and I move on to
it. This relatively major road is wide,
flat across its width with good wide shoulders and nice gradients, and little
used. It is grand to walk along.
A few
km before Lizarra the discomfort level is too high and I hitch. My driver knows exactly where the parish albergue
is and takes me directly there. Here I
meet Juan Carlos, a volunteer hospitalero
from Brazil. He takes an interest in my
condition and quickly commends me to bus forward to Logrono and from there go
to my intended break at Barcelona.
I go
and get some food to cook for dinner.
And so
to bed.
day 30 – draft Thursday, 5 May 2016 Zabaldika to Uterga
day 30
– draft
Thursday,
5 May 2016
Zabaldika
to Uterga
24 km
today - 86 km on Camino Frances - 808 km to date
Up
with the early group, who leave just after 6h30. I get a comfy spot and recreate a missed
blog, review others, uploading as I go, then send an advisory email to
all. With breakfast, another chat to
Amanda, photos with many, including the staff, I leave just after 8h30. The suburban areas of Trinidad de Arre and
Villava are encountered. Once I cross
the Arga River there is a long but delightful stroll through Villava: nice wide
tree lined streets, good looking apartment blocks and long bendy busses and
arrows in the way at very regular intervals, even when crossing a road.
Then I
get a glimpse of Pamplona's Cathedral up high on the edge of a cliff. Cross the River Arga by a medieval bridge,
climb a road through the ancient walls and fortifications and enter into a
modern medieval town. It is clear this
is a pedestrian precinct where cars and smaller delivery vans coexist on a
mutual footing: it just feels great.
Modern in the sense most five storey (or so) buildings in an area
roughly a kilometre square appear to have been built in the last 30 to 40
years. Medieval in the sense street
layout seems preserved: some are in more or less straight lines, some slightly
wavy and some in gentle curves.
I meet
a middle aged woman, whom I had seen on and off over recent days, who goes home
today. I learn she started at Le Puy
five days after me. She says she will
return to Pamplona next year and continue to Compostella. I congratulate her on such a fast trip and we
part. At the Tourism Office I meet
Santosh from India, now living in Ohio and Stephanie from Milwaukee. I get connected to Orange's Spanish network
for text messages and data. Then to the
cathedral where I say the Morning office to learn it is Thursday and Ascension
Day. The structure itself is quietly
straightforward with the ceiling bosses decorated. There are pews down the centre of the nave
then wide side aisles with chapels beyond that again. In all those I look at there is a retable on
the wall behind the altar: these typically have three or four rows with five panels
in each row. Each panel shows, often in
relief carvings highly decorated, a biblical scene, a biblical character or a
saint. These retable, very common in
Spain I discover, serve a similar purpose to the highly decorated tympani I
have seen in surrounding a major entrance in abbeys etc in France and Italy.
On
leaving, I grab some fruit, cheese and a drink for lunch today and tomorrow
from a .shop in a modern building in the old town. After leaving the original town I am in a
modern scene of wide straight streets and modern buildings, stopping in a
botanical gardens for lunch. Crossing
over an arterial ring road, a single line railway and a motorway, I pull up
into Cizur Menor. First encounter is
with a chapel that is all that remains of a hospital established by the Knights
of Saint John of Malta many, many years ago. On the outskirts of Cizur Menor I stop to try
my luck taking photos of the windmills along the ridge line of the Sierra del
Perdon range: the Camino climbs up from here and down the other side: a young
male walker comes across and offers to take one with me and the range
behind. We get to talk: he is Dan from
Chicago. He also struggles with being
east and south from here, or any other geographical hints as to where my home
country is. We part about 14h40.
The
pull up from Cizur Menor is strenuous in the heat of the afternoon and I stop
near a cemetery just before the village of Zariquiequi for porridge, orange,
banana and water. As I enter the village,
the two that had vigorously applauded as I entered Larrsoana the day before are
ensconced outside the bar. They, and
others with them, applaud vigorously as I stride past. I had thought of stopping here but the
reception, though well meant, serves to hasten me on.
I
continue up to where the way crests the Sierra del Perdon, festooned with
silhouette figures cut from sheet steel.
Here I take some photos and carry on.
It is now about 16th and I am a little anxious about a bed for the
night. Uterga is about 3 km away down an
infamous steep pathway. My pocket book
lists one albergue in Uterga with 16 beds and six people passed me as I took
photos. The next albergue listed in the
pocket book is another 11 km on. I start
the descent gingerly as it is both steep and covered with loose pebbles. Then I notice “streams” of slightly clearer
ground and follow those at a better rate.
Then comes the obstacle course, a flight of “steps” formed by large
squared off logs (like original railway sleepers, only bigger) with a high but
manageable drop to the next step. Using
my walking pole to steady myself I try several and it works so I go down in
grand style. Then more streams through
the loose pebbles and Uterga with two albergue opposite one another to choose
from. The one I choose has 22 beds alone. And even several hours after I arrive is still
accepting walkers.
Wash
clothes and have a meal.
And so
to bed.
day 29 – draft Wednesday, 4 May 2016 Roncesvalles / Orreaga to Zabaldika
day 29 – draft
Wednesday, 4 May 2016
Roncevaux / Roncesvalles / Orreaga to Zabaldika
37 km today - 61 km on Camino Frances - 784 km to date
Wednesday, 4 May 2016
Roncevaux / Roncesvalles / Orreaga to Zabaldika
37 km today - 61 km on Camino Frances - 784 km to date
In the breakfast queue meet two Kiwis: from Rotorua and
Christchurch. On the road before 08h.
This is pleasant country to walk through. The day is clear and not too warm, after all
we are about 1000 metres (over 3,000 feet) above sea level. Lots of ups and downs, and generally good
pathways under foot.
The village of Zubiri is about 21 km from Orr Eagan so I cross the
bridge away from the path to have a look.
The only cafe I can see is teeming with people and I decide to move
on. Larrasoana is another 6 km and I
arrive here about midday. Not a soul in
sight and nothing open. I find a seat in
the square and eat porridge I had prepared two days ago and fruit bought two
days ago. The path now comprises stones
and some mud, so move to the road as soon as I can. And this is pleasant.
My intention of Zabaldika arrives and I ascend to the village. This is a parish albergue and is very neat
and tidy. It backs on to the 16th
century church. There is also a
community of three religious sisters of the Sacred Heart. Os comes to greet each one of us: on hearing
I am from Wellington in New Zealand she tells me they have a house there. About 18h there is a ritual of greeting,
explanation of the church and stamps in our pilgrim passports. Communal dinner is about 7 pm and, back in
the church, a shortened night prayer with individuals sharing why they are on
this pilgrimage. The sister what had
greeted us is leading and she had warned me beforehand that she would ask me
first. So I tell them about Cathy.
And so to bed.
And so to bed.
day 28 – draft Tuesday, 3 May 2016 Saint-Jean-pied-de-port to Roncevaux / Roncesvalles / Orreaga
day 28 – draft
Tuesday, 3 May 2016
Saint-Jean-pied-de-port to Roncevaux / Roncesvalles / Orreaga
24 km today - 24 km on Camino Frances - 747 km to date
Tuesday, 3 May 2016
Saint-Jean-pied-de-port to Roncevaux / Roncesvalles / Orreaga
24 km today - 24 km on Camino Frances - 747 km to date
Breakfast is do it yourself from when you get up, and I am up just after 6h and ready to go just before 7h.
The first 15 km is one long rise from 200 metres above sea level (asl) to over 1300 metres asl. While an average of about 8 metres rise for every 100 metres walked the reality is long sections of more than 10 metres rise for every 100 metres walked. In other words very, very, very steep. In my training I had not encountered such steepness and not over such a prolonged distance. The early parts are good and I stride away, my general fitness from lots of training plus four weeks on the road helps a lot.
As we get to the steep sections I develop a technique of taking very short steps and timing my breathing to each step, in on the left foot going down and out on the right. Despite the short step, I find I am passing everyone. A pause after 8 km at a refuge to check the weather: all good, no snow and no rain. At this point we are in fog and my informant doesn't mention wind. The fog thickens and a strong wind gets up. Keeping an eye on the markers does worry me, especially since at times I cannot see anyone else.
A sign announces the last French stamp for the walkers credential and soon I see a crowd of about 20 or more walkers hovering around a stall selling bananas and stuff. I pause for a few moments but the wind bites me and I move on. About this point we leave the road and negotiate what seems like an obstacle course with every natural blockage I've encountered so far all assembled in one place. Plus fog and strong wind.
I can see about 20 to 100 metres either side or in front. As best I can, I try to keep others in sight. Sometimes this is only one person. But she seems confident of where she is, so I keep as calm as I can. I notice there are trees at this height (about 4000 metres above sea level) and that they are just beginning to bud. This is slow compared with the spring growth I have encountered elsewhere from day 1.
After what seems like an eternity of this I encounter the Col de Lepoeder, the pass through the Pyrenees route we are on. Apart from relatively pristine snow on the ground, which we also have to go through, albeit for only a few metres, there is nothing to see except the ground sloping away quite quickly. What an anti-climax.
Shortly afterwards there is a decision to be made. At the Pilgrims Office in Saint-Jean we were strenuously warned to take the road route down and under no circumstances go down through the forest. The difficulty is this: the forest route is the only one marked and there is no indication where the road we are on will lead to. So, the group I am with all decide to go down through the forest. We knew it would be steep, and it is. The difficulty is in the early stages and quite quickly it becomes quite pleasant.
I reach Roncesvalles about 12h30, nearly two hours sooner than the suggested time.
After some reflection I decide to stay here tonight.
Mass is at 19h and it seems nearly all the 200 or so walkers are there. Rather than come forward, as the five of us did at Saint Jean, the pilgrims blessing includes a recital of the countries the walkers are from. I don't hear New Zealand (or a variant) and nor do the other handful of New Zealanders present.
Then to dinner: I and a woman from Virginia, United States get to talking and have to break the curfew of 22nd.
And so to (my own) bed.
20 May 2016
A reflection - why am I doing this
In the week after leaving Le-Puy-en-Velay (in central southern France) and the emotions I felt as I was about to leave the Cathedral after the pilgrims Mass, I often reflected on why was I here.
I knew the mechanical bits off pat. Following her last diagnosis in January 2012 Ibegan walking to help with a (over) weight issue. Then , as Cathy and I talked about what I would do when she was no longer with me , she suggested my doing a full pilgrimage to add to the short one I had done in 2010.
The training walks now had an edge to them as I trialled equipment and trained my head as much as my body. Kath Rushton (completed a pilgrimage across Northern Spain in 2011) observed several times that my pilgrimage would be the most planned ever .
Cathy died (very peacefully) in November 2014 and in early 2015 neighbours began asking when I would do my walk, as they had noticed my coming back after a training walk. But 2015 was to settle Cathy's affairs and for me to settle my route. With the support of my co-executor (Tony, one of Cathy's nephews) we reached practical completion of the former) by mid-year.
About the same time I considered starting from Le Puy through the blog created by Margaret Riordan, a friend of one of Cathy's friends, Trish Harris. In September I met Margaret and her observations made me decide to start from there.
Shortly before I left a neighbour and priest, John Carden observed I was setting out on a great adventure. While agreeing with him in general terms, I have found in so many different ways just how big an adventure this is.
That is all the how, which, what, where and when stuff.
As part of our preparation Cathy wrote me a note asking that her body be cremated and for her ashes to stay with me. I told I would take a small amount with me . And at the pilgrims Mass at Le Puy I held those in my hand throughout.
In the days following I have been conscious of the purpose of my pilgrimage and continually hope and pray my body and my head will continue to have the strength to fulfill our purpose.
In the week after leaving Le-Puy-en-Velay (in central southern France) and the emotions I felt as I was about to leave the Cathedral after the pilgrims Mass, I often reflected on why was I here.
I knew the mechanical bits off pat. Following her last diagnosis in January 2012 Ibegan walking to help with a (over) weight issue. Then , as Cathy and I talked about what I would do when she was no longer with me , she suggested my doing a full pilgrimage to add to the short one I had done in 2010.
The training walks now had an edge to them as I trialled equipment and trained my head as much as my body. Kath Rushton (completed a pilgrimage across Northern Spain in 2011) observed several times that my pilgrimage would be the most planned ever .
Cathy died (very peacefully) in November 2014 and in early 2015 neighbours began asking when I would do my walk, as they had noticed my coming back after a training walk. But 2015 was to settle Cathy's affairs and for me to settle my route. With the support of my co-executor (Tony, one of Cathy's nephews) we reached practical completion of the former) by mid-year.
About the same time I considered starting from Le Puy through the blog created by Margaret Riordan, a friend of one of Cathy's friends, Trish Harris. In September I met Margaret and her observations made me decide to start from there.
Shortly before I left a neighbour and priest, John Carden observed I was setting out on a great adventure. While agreeing with him in general terms, I have found in so many different ways just how big an adventure this is.
That is all the how, which, what, where and when stuff.
As part of our preparation Cathy wrote me a note asking that her body be cremated and for her ashes to stay with me. I told I would take a small amount with me . And at the pilgrims Mass at Le Puy I held those in my hand throughout.
In the days following I have been conscious of the purpose of my pilgrimage and continually hope and pray my body and my head will continue to have the strength to fulfill our purpose.
12 May 2016
day 27 – draft
Monday, 2 May 2016
Uhart-Mixte to Saint-Jean-pied-de-port
24 km today - 733 km to date
Isabella, my hostess at the gite named 'Lescargot says because of the big trucks I should not walk on the road that passes through the village. She is so nice about it I take her advice traffic. She shows me to the local track that will get me on the GR65 and gives me a French kiss farewell.
This track is nice and steep and sealed and I make good progress. There are wonderful vistas. I arrive at Ostabat and pause for coffee, having said the morning office in the open church. Back on the road and pass several dairy farms, at least thats what they look like, but I cannot see a milking shed. The area looks prosperous with nearly all houses looking neat and tidy with the customary shutters painted deep red or light blue.
When I can get back on the main road. By now it is straight with a wide space between the white line and the edge of the seal. Encounter the village of Gamarthe and as I need a loo stop pause at the large restaurant busy setting up for the lunch trade for a
coffee. A short distance on there is a cheese factory with a tasting room and which should be open. While the lights are on there is no sign of life inside and the door doesn't open. I am not the only one disappointed.
Back on the road for another 3 or 4 km when a car pulls up at an intersection about 100 metres ahead and a man starts walking towards me. When we close up I recognise Jack from my second night with Anne at Moissac He has suffered an injury that prevents him from continuing and his wife has acted as salvor. In the chat I cadge a ride to Saint-Jean. On the home stretch the car stops again as Jack has seen Serge and Michel as he had also encountered them on the way.
The arrival at aSaint-Jean is in grand style. And I am amazed / astonished by the hordes of people thronging not only the cobbled street through the original town but also the restaurants on the outskirts. The parish gite that Isabella had rung ahead for me that morning doesn't open for a while and nor does the Pilgrims Office. I take the time to visit the church and the start point for the next morning.
Jan from Holland is very helpful at the Pilgrims Office and I weigh my pack - 8kg. So it is more than 1 kg over my target weight. Nothing too serious but I need to take the opportunity to do something about it.
The gite is good and dinner is at 2015 so pilgrims can go to Mass and the pilgrims blessing at 19h30. There are about 20 present, of which five come forward for the blessing.
Dinner is good with two from Croatia who speak English.
And so to bed.
Monday, 2 May 2016
Uhart-Mixte to Saint-Jean-pied-de-port
24 km today - 733 km to date
Isabella, my hostess at the gite named 'Lescargot says because of the big trucks I should not walk on the road that passes through the village. She is so nice about it I take her advice traffic. She shows me to the local track that will get me on the GR65 and gives me a French kiss farewell.
This track is nice and steep and sealed and I make good progress. There are wonderful vistas. I arrive at Ostabat and pause for coffee, having said the morning office in the open church. Back on the road and pass several dairy farms, at least thats what they look like, but I cannot see a milking shed. The area looks prosperous with nearly all houses looking neat and tidy with the customary shutters painted deep red or light blue.
When I can get back on the main road. By now it is straight with a wide space between the white line and the edge of the seal. Encounter the village of Gamarthe and as I need a loo stop pause at the large restaurant busy setting up for the lunch trade for a
coffee. A short distance on there is a cheese factory with a tasting room and which should be open. While the lights are on there is no sign of life inside and the door doesn't open. I am not the only one disappointed.
Back on the road for another 3 or 4 km when a car pulls up at an intersection about 100 metres ahead and a man starts walking towards me. When we close up I recognise Jack from my second night with Anne at Moissac He has suffered an injury that prevents him from continuing and his wife has acted as salvor. In the chat I cadge a ride to Saint-Jean. On the home stretch the car stops again as Jack has seen Serge and Michel as he had also encountered them on the way.
The arrival at aSaint-Jean is in grand style. And I am amazed / astonished by the hordes of people thronging not only the cobbled street through the original town but also the restaurants on the outskirts. The parish gite that Isabella had rung ahead for me that morning doesn't open for a while and nor does the Pilgrims Office. I take the time to visit the church and the start point for the next morning.
Jan from Holland is very helpful at the Pilgrims Office and I weigh my pack - 8kg. So it is more than 1 kg over my target weight. Nothing too serious but I need to take the opportunity to do something about it.
The gite is good and dinner is at 2015 so pilgrims can go to Mass and the pilgrims blessing at 19h30. There are about 20 present, of which five come forward for the blessing.
Dinner is good with two from Croatia who speak English.
And so to bed.
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