Day 29 - La Portela de Valcarce to Fonfria (27km)

We left again at 6.30am and for the first mile or two continued the journey of yesterday afternoon: walking the Camino along the valley floor by a main road near a river and shared with a motorway that would make regular appearances crossing the valley suspended high, high above on its long concrete supports. It then became a very rural walk; the main road became a narrow lane, the small river flowed and gurgled alongside and, after one last appearance high above, the motorway disappeared. We passed through three small villages stretched thinly along the road - Vega, Ruitelan, Herrerías - stopping for breakfast in the last. But then the day began.

                        

We now faced a 2000 foot climb to leave Castilla and Leon and enter the Galician hills. For half an hour the road gently steepened, the river gradually dropped away as the path rose up the valley and the sky seemed to slowly open up to meet you. It was overcast and mild, perfect for a steep hill climb. The route then left the road, entered the quiet closeness of the surrounding woodland and continued a winding steep ascent. After a hard climb it broke out into the openness of the summit ridge with a final gentle push towards the village of O'Cebreiro at the top and views of the Galician hills, the cloud base sitting just above.

Galicia

I shared lunch with a Canadian, American and Swede who I had chatted to on my way up and waited for Gale. It turned out that he knew the American from his first two days of walking and we swapped stories of Camino coincidences before Gale and I pressed on along a fairly flat track through the hills for another five miles. There has been a clear change of landscape and scenery since crossing into Galicia: green rolling hills extending to the horizon, small villages dotted around the base of the hills a thousand feet below us, and the continual clanging of cow bells from the surrounding countryside.

We are now in the small village of Fonfria and from the smells as we entered it seems pretty clear livestock farming is the area in which most people are employed. I am enjoying a glass of wine in front of the log burner of the small hostel we are in before dinner and looking at what tomorrow may bring in terms of weather, the route and our aim of catching up with Robin and the others in the next couple of days.

Day 28 - Ponferrada to La Portela de Valcarce (38km)

Today was a day of two distinct halves. After an extended walk through the outskirts of Ponferrada - they fail to match the charm of the town centre - the morning saw us walking along narrow, not quite suburban, lanes. We were surrounded by small pastures and orchards, small fields growing a range of vegetables and other crops and the occasional area of shrub or woodland. Every so often we would pass a building or two, maybe a house or sometimes a small factory; it was a rural scene of private smallholdings rather than agriculture on an industrial scale. We had breakfast in Camponaraya, the only place approaching a village, got a guided tour from a very enthusiastic lady around a local church and then headed into the countryside again.

The afternoon saw us following the Camino along the bottom of the steep valley of the Pereje river, a route shared with two roads: the major motorway from Madrid to the port of La Coruña and what I assume to be the 'A' road that it replaced. For the main part the Camino followed the side of the 'A' road, which occasionally weaved under the huge concrete structure of the motorway, while the narrow, meandering river occasionally passed under the route of the road and Camino, the sound of flowing water making a nice change to the ever present traffic noise. All four snaked their way along the narrow valley floor apart from a couple of occasions where the Camino diverted to tiny villages that the road builders had considerately left a couple of hundred metres from the roads. But you were never away from the drone of traffic.

The two parts of the day were neatly split by the town of Villafranca, a lovely little place that we descended into during the middle of the day and which stretches along the Burbia river. It is a place I would like to go back to and spend time in. But for now we are spending the night in a small, modern hostel cum hotel near the main road in the few buildings that make up Valcarce, too tired to bother going out - although it looks as if there is nothing to really go out for anyway.

Villafranca

The 'credencial'

The 'credencial' otherwise know as the pilgrim's passport is a document purchased for a couple of euros that gives you access to the inexpensive albergues along the Camino as well as cheap 'pilgrim's menus' in restaurants, discount to tickets for accessing cathedrals and museums and even discounts on some more traditional hotels. It is also a record of your travels. Every hostel stamps and dates your 'credencial' when you arrive but all along the route cafes and bars, churches and museums all have their own stamps so you can stamp your credencial as you travel leaving you a comprehensive history of your journey along the Camino. I even got a stamp from a man in a car in the middle of nowhere on the Meseta, parked by the roadside selling nick-nicks and water to passing walkers. Each and every stamp is different in size and shape and colour giving quite a colourful document after a few days.

The other purpose of the 'credencial' is to provide evidence of your journey at the Pilgrim office in Santiago de Compostela and thereby earn your 'Compostela' or certificate of having completed the Camino. You need only compete the last 100 kilometres to gain a Compostela, a fact that leads to the last part of the Camino apparently getting very busy as people join for this final leg. When you arrive at the Pilgrim's Office in Santiago de Compostela your credencial is checked for stamps and dates to check you have done the necessary distance and you are asked to state your motive for doing the Camino: 'religious', 'religious and other' or simply 'other'. When I first started thinking about the Camino some time ago I understood that the first two options would earn you your 'Compostella' whereas the third would earn you a 'Compostella' with a stapled addendum in Spanish along the lines of 'forgive this miserable sinner, he knows not what he does'. No guesses then which one I would have gone for. I now understand the third option gets you a totally different certificate and no 'Compostela' so I guess that deciding my motive and what I get will be my moral dilema for my Camino....

Day 27 - Foncebadon to Ponferrada (27km)

Today it rained. We are almost 5000 feet up in the mountains and we woke to mist and drizzle. The lack of visibility reminded me very much of time spent in the Lake District as we climbed the few hundred feet to the nearby summit and one of the Camino's more famous features: the 'Cruz de Ferra' ('Iron Cross'), a five metre high wooden pole topped with an iron cross and surrounded by a massive cone of stones. The stones are deposited by pilgrims and many have been carried from the start of their journey; they are meant to represent the depositing of the burdens you shoulder in life and many are accompanied by lots of small mementos - notes, photographs, personal trinkets - which for me were more poignant and meaningful than the idea of the stone pile and what it signifies.

Cruz de Ferra

From here it was a long descent through the wet and the mist with only the features that appeared in the gloom giving a sense of how dramatic the views would be if it were not for the cloud. After a quick coffee in the small village of Acebo (in the second cafe we passed, always the best according to a theory of Gale's) we eventually descended below the cloud. We were following the road for surety of footing - the track largely paralleled it anyway - as it hairpinned its way down the mountain through steep sided hills until eventually we entered the small mountain town of Molinaseca. We admired its church and old buildings nestled in the river valley, crossed its Roman bridge and walked the length of its long narrow high street which, as we looked back on leaving, framed the mountains that previously had been obscured in cloud.

Approaching Molinaseca

To Ponferrada

We are now three miles further up the valley in the charming and colourful centre of Ponferrada. It has a castle, churches and a series of neat plazas, with up market shops and cafes, all connected by narrow lanes. And in all directions you seem to get views of the mountains. We wanted to relax and so ate as early as we could, although not as early as we would have liked; one of the issues you face in larger Spanish towns on the Camino is that you turn up tired and hungry late-afternoon when most places are shut and three or four hours before anything starts to come alive, which is the time you want to be relaxing in readiness for the next day.  I am now enjoying the comfort of another private room before a planned longer walk tomorrow.

Ponferrada

Ponferrada

Ponferrada Castle

Lost and found....

Lost:

I’m not sure that I have lost any weight despite the miles of walking. I blame all the emergencies and the need to break into the 'emergency wine'.

I have lost some tweezers (you have to look good on the Camino you know..). I’ve lost my sunglasses and bought a replacement pair (and it’s been cloudy and raining ever since...). I’ve lost a fleece top and a towel and, as of two nights ago, my prescription glasses (maybe I just can’t find all the other things because I can’t see them...)

Found:

Lots of wonderful people

Day 26 - San Justo de la Vega to Foncebadon (30km)

Today has been fewer roads, less rain and more flowers. Once we had walked the two miles into Astorga, had breakfast in front of the cathedral and a Gaudí designed palace and then headed off, it was not long before we felt we were in open countryside. Once again the path stretched ahead but instead of crops we were surrounded by yellow gorse bushes in all directions. The route was flat and we made good progress. Occasionally we would hit roads but they were quiet and wooded. In many ways it was very British, made more so by the overcast sky and the misty, almost-drizzle that accompanied us all day.

Astorga

We had lunch in Rabanal del Camino, a small town with a rich and important heritage and links to both the Camino and to the Knights Templar who had an outpost here to protect pilgrims crossing the Leon Mountains. Only a few decades ago the town was all but abandoned but now it is a busy (for the Camino at least) place with restaurants and accommodation for those walking the route. 

From Rabanal it was an uphill walk of just over an hour as the path weaved up through more countryside, purple heather and other flowers of white and blue and yellow that I didn’t recognise. We are now in the few buildings - a couple of bars and a handful of bunk houses - that make up Foncebadon. No private room tonight: we are in a small room crowded with bunks and people. And I have left my towel somewhere in the last couple of days and my glasses in San Justo last night.

Day 25 - Leon to San Justo De la Vega (46km)

I am once again enjoying the luxury of a private room as a treat after doing 46km in a day. Didn’t I say never again?

         

There is a reason for today’s long walk. In the next few days Robin is meeting her husband who will join her for the last week of the walk although this will require her missing a couple of days walking and catching a train. The other girls are going to join her so they can continue to walk together. However, Gale and I are determined to walk the whole way and yet we would also like to walk into Santiago de Compostela with the people with whom we have shared so much of the journey. As a result we need to do some extended days and today, which was largely flat, seemed like a good opportunity to make a dent in the extra distance we need to do, hence a 6.30 start and a long day.

Hippy Cafe - everything free!  Check the guy in the background...

It’s been a day of tracks and roads and rain. Initially our route took us through the outskirts of Leon and then continued to follow main roads. It’s been like this for a few days now, a big change from the white track that trailed through fields taking you from tiny village to tiny village earlier in the trip and a reflection of the more populated area we now seem to find ourselves in. It’s not so bad though: sometimes the track is alongside the road but at others it is slightly offset, buried in the woods or shrubs by the roadside although always within earshot of the traffic, which today being Sunday wasn’t too bad.

We had a good lunch at Hospital del Órbigo, a small town which grew up to serve pilgrims on the Camino and which has one of Spain’s longest medieval bridges. We bumped into Rob and Greg after sticking our noses into the interesting looking courtyard of an albergue where, it turned out, they were staying. And as we chatted the heavens opened. And I mean a downpour. It was a difficult decision to walk out into the rain and ignore their suggestions that we join them for the night but we did.

Approaching Hospital del Orbigo

Hospital del Orbigo

From Hospital del Órbigo we hit tracks across fields and woods. For an hour the rain poured, the lightning split the sky and the thunder rumbled above us. Water streamed down the track and although often the rain would seem to abate for a while it would then start again with the same intensity. We passed two tiny villages and each time managed to ignore the temptation of the albergues we saw. But after a long walk through woods and moorland the private rooms in the hostel here in San Justo de la Vega won us over, even though the rain had stopped by then and the sun was trying to appear. By the time we went for an early dinner it was raining again and I’m now in bed trying to decide whether there is any point in checking tomorrow’s forecast.

Day 24 - León

Today was relatively relaxing and constructive.  Up late. Slow breakfast in a nearby cafe. Then to the post office to try and sort an issue for Robin followed by the bank to try and sort an issue for Myra. A coffee in a rooftop bar and then an hour in the wonderful cathedral here, for me more beautiful - in a refined and subtle way - than its grander and more brash sister in Burgos. Pizza for lunch, shopping, getting caught in a massive downpour with hailstones just for good measure and then back to the hotel for a siesta. The evening was spent dodging the EUFA cup final (Real Madrid against Liverpool) - which it seemed appeared on television in all the bars in town - and then dodging celebrating Spaniards on the way back from the centre after having dined with an Australian couple who I had promised I would catch up with.

All in all a pleasant change from a long walk.

Castile and Leon

Today I am in León, the capital of the region of Castile and León through which I have been walking over the last few days.  It is the largest autonomous region in Spain and known as ‘The Land of the Castles’.  There are more than 300 medieval castles throughout the region, more than any other region in Europe, and I have seen the ruins of a few although of course the Camino passes through only a small part of this large area. Many were built as a defence against the Moorish invaders and are still well preserved. 

There are more UNESCO world heritage sites here than anywhere else in the world and during my walk I have enjoyed two of them: the Way of St James and Burgos. I have also seen field after field of crops in fields with extensive irrigation systems; agriculture is the most important sector of the economy around here and the canal I walked along to Fromista, built in the late 18th century to transport grain, suggests it has been this way for a while.

Day 23 - Mansilla to Leon (18km)

Today we reach León and another rest day. It was another day typical of those lately: off before 8am (although never by the planned 7.30am); a walk alongside, but separated from, fairly busy roads - this has been the norm of late in the more populated area we are now in - with the occasional honk or wave of support from passing motorists; a breakfast of coffee and cake and tortilla in the nearest cafe of the first village we pass through (usually surrounded by other walkers); and then more walking along roads and over bridges and along tracks until we arrive late afternoon at our destination. Today we spent the last hour or so in the industrial outskirts and roads of Leon, the third biggest city on the whole route, which included a slippy, muddy descent to the main streets, made worse by the rain that had accompanied us since mid morning.

Descent to Leon

We are now in a comfortable hotel until Sunday morning. We have done the latest bout of washing and we dined well, courtesy of Gale, in the rambling narrow streets of Leon’s eating quarter near the magnificent cathedral. Tomorrow we will relax and explore but for now I intend to make the most of my big comfortable bed without the company of another 30 walkers.

Aches and Pains....

As I sit in a quiet bar by the main Camino route here in Mansillas, reflecting on the restorative nature of a night's sleep after yesterday's madness, I can see today's pilgrims drifting into town in various states of elation and discomfort. As you walk the Camino you can not help but notice the number of people who are carrying some form of injury. While some people stride confidently ahead many others are more tentative. Knee supports are a common sight and more elaborate strapping and taping are sometimes seen supporting the Achilles, something I have not seen before. At every stop tired, aching and blistered feet are being aired and rested and the injuries you carry are a regular conversation topic. This trip is understandably punishing on the legs, knees, ankles and feet and there are people I have met - and stories of many more - who are taking days off under medical advice to recover from shin splints or severe blisters.

Walking day after day may be punishing but it is unclear to me the link between preparedness and injuries; people who tell me they have trained are suffering whereas others who claim to have come unprepared are not. People who I can see are strong both mentally and physically are having more difficulty than others I would have expected to be more challenged. I can only think that some foot shapes are better suited to extended walking than others which for once makes me grateful for my Hobbit feet; so far I have been blessed with suffering nothing of consequence, even after yesterday’s extended walk. I am hopeful that now I have passed the halfway point my body has been suitably 'broken in' and apart from the usual aches and pains of a long walk my feet should see me through to Santiago and beyond.

Whatever the rationale for developing injuries the Camino is well set up to meet your needs should you develop them. At the outskirts of small villages and towns are makeshift posters for massages and chiropodists and foot specialists. And a string of pharmacists have established themselves more or less on the route of the Camino as it passes through towns and villages; wall to wall products aimed at the suffering walker, from every form of leg or knee or ankle support to blister products and various medications to get you and your suffering body through the day, are available and at very reasonable prices. Another example of how, on the Camino, local people seem to support those that help their economy rather than fleece them.

Day 22 - Reliegos to Mansilla (7km)

I woke today feeling revived and impressed at how a good night's sleep can aid recovery. Before long I was packed for the relatively short walk to tonight's stop where hopefully Gale, Robin and the others would catch me up. After sharing a mint tea with a woman from the Netherlands I headed off and in no time I was in Mansilla de las Mulas; I felt I had covered the seven kilometres in a fraction of the time in which I did fewer than five last night. I shared a coffee with a French pensioner who I had walked the last couple of kilometres with and who told me all about her divorce and how she was hoping for love on the Camino. It still amazes me how complete strangers share the most personal things on this walk.

After finding a nice private room (I think I have earned that luxury after yesterday) I chilled in a bar with coffee, caught up with my blog and wandered this small medieval town with its narrow streets and small plazas. I found beds for my fellow walkers arriving later then settled in a bar with a beer and something to eat. Other walkers started arriving and I was soon joined by a group of Americans who I have bumped into over the last three weeks. We shared stories and then I retired to my room to relax.

The others arrived in town tired and weary at gone 5pm after a long day's walking. We ate in a great little 'bistro' style restaurant with a limited but excellent menu and then they drifted to their beds. I am now enjoying the luxury of my single room listening to the heavy rain that has just started beating against the window and hoping it stops before we set off for León tomorrow.

St Facundas, St Primativus and Charlemagne - Sahagun

Yesterday on my mammoth walk I passed through Sahagun, a small town on the River Cea. It is thought that the name derives from a shortened version of 'San Fagun' or Saint Facundus, one of two Chrisitan martyrs mentioned together in the Codex and whose shrines can be found here.  The other is Saint Primativus.  According to tradition Fagun and Primativus were Christian natives from Leon. They were tortured and beheaded on the banks of the River Cea and according to some accounts milk and blood gushed from their headless necks.

Continue through Sahagun and on the way out you cross the Cea over the Puente de Canto and emerge on the other side at the “Field of Charlemagne’s Lances”, a grove of poplar trees and the site of a miraculous tale described in the Codex.  According to the legend, Charlemagne was in pursuit of a Saracen Caliph with the intention of liberating the way for pilgrims to Santiago. Preparing for battle the following day, soldiers left their weapons thrust into the ground overnight and...

 '....at dawn the next day, those men who in the coming battle were to receive the palms of martyrdom for their faith in God found that their lances had grown bark and were covered by leafy branches. Astonished beyond telling, and attributing the miracle to God’s divine power, they cut them off at ground level. From the staves whose roots remained buried was born the great forest that even today can be seen in that place.'

Even the manhole covers are joining in...

 Manhole cover, Reliegos

Day 21 - Calzadilla de la Cueza to Reliegos (53km)

Savage. Harsh. Brutal. Get out your thesaurus and choose your synonym. I’m beyond caring. Today I walked 53km. It seemed a good idea at the time when Rob suggested some days ago that we walk a 'marathon' at some point on the relative flat of the Meseta. He ultimately couldn’t do it but the seed had been planted in my brain and had taken root. So this morning I set off at 6.15 in the half light to walk the 42km a marathon would entail while in the distance rain showers drifted across a grey horizon. Eventually they caught up with me but the occasional drop of rain and an overcast sky seemed well suited to my plans for the day. Mid morning I breakfasted in Sagahun (where Gale and the girls planned to end their day today) and then pressed on.

Before long I was on the main part of today's route, the path of an old Roman road that took me to the 42km point after which I had hoped to find a place to stop. But it was clear from everything I had seen to this point that there was unlikely to be anything on this track until the next village some kilometres away. I was tired, and the need to continue forced on me by circumstance, sapped my will making things harder than usual. Added to that, this typically Roman road went on long and straight, mile on mile, into a nondescript scrubby wasteland. There were no distant visual references to give a sense of progress while underfoot the track was covered in large pebbles that punished the feet when trodden on, even in boots. Rather than a challenging by-product of my day the discomfort and seeming endlessness of this stretch started to become the focus. With a dispirited mind exaggerating the weariness of my body the walk had become a mental as well as physical challenge. I was losing my rhythm and losing focus of mind; it was as if there were a disconnect between the body and the brain - working against each other rather than together - that required mental effort to bridge. I was trying hard to force myself into yesterday’s mindset, taking pleasure and distraction in my surroundings, but this just emphasised the nothingness and lack of apparent progress and led to poor footing on the track and discomfort on my already tired feet. So I would focus on my footing only to find my mind drawn to my feet and how sore they were and an even worse sense of progress measured by each unsteady step. And against all this the knowledge that I was still far from a bed and getting slower and that despite my efforts that bed just did not appear to be getting nearer.

The afternoon dragged on with slow progress and everything seeming to take forever. And then I encountered Harold. Harold was a German resting by the track, the only other person I had seen on the route. He too was suffering. We swapped a few words before making a silent agreement to accompany each other. Few more words were exchanged but the rhythmic crunch on gravel of two pairs of feet and the silent companionship was enough to buoy us both up a little.

We eventually reached the tiny village of Reliegos and made for the municipal albergue where I lay on my bed for some time before forcing myself to shower and to go and eat (the Elvis Bar, themed graffiti inside and out and a particular style of music...). It was then an early night for me to let the healing power of sleep do its work on my body and mind.

Reliegos - at last....

Day 20 - Carrion de los Condes to Calzadilla de la Cueza (19km)

Staying in a monastery seems to have its benefits. This morning we experienced what I can only describe as the miracle of Santa Clara: 5am came and went and there were no alarms going off, no torch lights flashing around the room like searchlights, no rustling of rucksacks and unzipping of bags. It was peace and quiet and darkness until just before 7am at which point a chorus of 'Happy Birthday' echoed round the room for Robin who is celebrating her birthday today. A little later we danced around the small courtyard outside our room to the Beatles singing 'When I’m Sixty-four'. No prizes for guessing her age...



Today was short and flat and straight. It started out on a long straight road and became a long straight track in a flat landscape save for the occasional trees lining the route. I pressed on alone early in the day to get ahead and find a place for everybody to stay as well as to enjoy some solitude. Alone and undisturbed you can more easily slip into the moment, become more receptive and notice more of what is around you. You pick up on the colours and the changing shades of green as the wind disturbs the leaves and creates ripples on the crops; you smell the flowers as you pass; you hear the wind and the birdsong in the trees around you; you feel the cooling breeze on your skin. And with the occasional sip of refreshing cold water to revive you - tasteless as it may be - all the senses are sated.

I walked in this frame of mind for two hours or so. Occasionally the path would be devoid of all trees for lengthy stretches and during these times I would find myself feeling small and exposed in the landscape, a speck of nothing under a massive open sky. Not for me a sense of communing with a higher deity or an affinity with the beauty and the landscape through which I walked, just a sense of isolation and inconsequence.  It was an interesting feeling but in no way disturbing.

Approaching Calzadilla de la Cueza

I am now in a small and lively bar awaiting the arrival of my fellow walkers. We have bunks upstairs for the grand sum of €5 a head which is probably more than the cost of the beer and food I have in front of me.

Two hours later and the girls have arrived with Gale, our latest companion. He too is American. The afternoon slips by with drinks and chatting and a short sleep before we meet up with Rob and Greg and others for a surprise birthday meal in the local restaurant. As well as wholesome food, cake and cava all appear courtesy of the obliging staff and a great time is had by all. Robin, wearing her 'Feliz Compleanos' sash - secretly purchased in Burgos - is taken aback and everybody retires with that warm glow of Camino companionship. It is another memorable evening with friends.

Day 19 - Boadilla del Camino to Carrion de los Condes (26km)

Tonight I am in a monastery. I understood that the Monastery of Santa Clara here in Carrion de Condes was a place run by nuns where you were obliged to go to a blessing for Pilgrims in the evening and to help in the cooking and cleaning, all for a 'donativo' or payment as you saw fit. I thought that would be an interesting experience. It is a lovely building but it seems to be just another albergue with bunk beds - although these have nice yellow over-sheets on them - set in relatively small rooms. Oh, it also has bars on the windows and there seem to be a lot of religious pictures and posters around for some reason...

Boadilla Church

We had a fairly long day getting here today. Firstly we had to make up for the shorter day yesterday (our lovely paradise was nearly four miles short of our planned stop). Secondly we took a detour to avoid an extended walk along a main road. The first of these resulted in a nice walk along an old canal in the cool of the morning ending in a very impressive, if clearly unused and smelly, lock. I later read that the canal was one of Spain’s finest engineering achievements, built to bring grain from the area to the small town of Fromista, which we passed through and which in the past had clearly benefited economically as a result. The second fact led to a pleasant walk along a narrow river where we could enjoy the birdsong and smell of flowers rather than traffic noise and petrol fumes.

 

 
Our river walk brought us to a church on the outskirts of the tiny village of Villalcazar de Sirga where the music, the people and the firecrackers made it clear that some form of celebration was going on. At first we thought it a funeral but as we rested a little further down the road a small procession of people - accompanied by a couple playing a small drum and some form of traditional reed instrument - stopped and explained it was in celebration of 'the Virgin'. It seemed we had happened upon some local festival, nothing like those you see in larger towns but small and intimate and made more personal by their engagement with us.

The day ended with a sole punishing walk along the road into Carrion de Condes but this was soon forgotten after showers and then beer and food in a small quiet restaurant near the monastery. Now it is time to retire to my bunk in readiness for tomorrow and the halfway point of the walk....

Santa Clara Monastery