Day 18 - Castrojeriz to Boadilla del Camino (19km)

At lunch time I find myself sitting in a small copse at a high point on the path. Looking behind I see, three miles across the fields, the small town of Itero De la Vega where an hour or so ago we had coffee and tortilla in a small cafe and somewhere beyond that our albergue from last night and our 7.30am start. Ahead the white path of the Camino descends gently to the small town of Boadilla del Camino another three miles away and beyond is Fromista where we intend to spend the night. Until now. There is something about this small copse, the gentle breeze on the fields, the view to distant plateaus and the mountains on the horizon and the coolness of its shade that make me think I want to spend the night here. I can watch the sun set over Boadilla and the sun rise over Vitero and with an early start still catch up with my colleagues before they set off.

                

I make my decision and eventually Janna, Myra and Robin leave me and I settle down watching walkers heading slowly up the hill towards the copse, chatting to those that like me decide to take comfort in the shade it offers from the afternoon sun. It is a long wait until sunset. Walkers come and go. The numbers of walkers coming up the hill steadily reduces. I enjoy some peace and solitude. And then my phone comes alive. It is the Sirens of the Camino: 'we've found a great place in Boadilla and booked you a bed' says Robin's message; and a message from Rob telling me 'I’ve found the girls and we're all at this brilliant albergue'; then a picture from Janna of feet and a pool and a well manicured lawn with flowers like something from a holiday brochure. I am being worn down. A picture message of Rob drinking a cold beer clinches it - I think how I could be sharing time in the company of a good man and a good beer - and my will is broken. I tell them I will be with them in an hour.

So now I find myself in the delightful gardens of what must be the best place we have stayed in so far. A beautiful Romanesque church - supposedly one of Spain's finest - pokes above the neat stone building that once served some farming purpose but is now a comfortable bunk room. The church is large and solid and dominates the centre of this tiny village. I watch storks flying from the four massive nests I can see on the spire, circling easily overhead in the clear blue sky. The garden is a riot of colour: yellows and pinks and blues and whites from the trees and plants that have clearly been carefully cultivated. They are alive with bees. It is also alive with walkers who also find themselves drawn to this little oasis in the village. Some are sitting around the small pool, their feet dangled in the ice cold water, others are in the shade of a vine covered patio enjoying beer and conversation by the bar. It may not have the magic of a sunrise and sunset but it is without doubt a fair exchange.

The campsite that never was....

I catch up with friends, I walk out to the old church which sadly is shut, and I dine on wholesome food in the albergue restaurant. And then the evening is gone. There is still light in the sky when I retire to my bunk mid evening; it would have been a long wait for the sunset....