Sarria is about 115 kilometers from Santiago, so it is the unofficial start of the Camino for Spaniards hoping to get a Compostela with a week of hiking. The nature of the Camino changes greatly here. The way is crowded with bunches of college students, teen-agers, and various groups traveling together. No more long solitary marches: now we are part of a mass movement.
What is black and green and wet all over?
But before we reached Sarria today, we had another quiet day as we mucked our way out of little Samos and rejoined the main Camino. We had our customary overcast skies and on/off rain, but the temps got into the 50s so were able to discard our rain gear and just get wet, which is a better alternative than wearing rain gear as you hike and being soaked in sweat underneath it!
Judy putting a brave face on a tough morning
While the trail yesterday into Samos was quite delightful, the trail back out today was a mess. Steep hills with water running down the trail, or muddy little pueblas where you choose which puddle to step in. Luckily, when we rejoined the main trail, the skies cleared and we got some sun. Perhaps it is a foreshadowing of the rest of the Camino.
Pick your puddle!
Today was also a landmark in that I met my biggest Camino goal. I told my Spanish teacher in Mexico that my goal was to be mistaken for a Mexican while in Spain. When I was checking in to the pensíon today, I mentioned we live in Mexico. The hospitalera said I spoke like an authentic Mexican; I was overjoyed! Who knows if she meant it as a compliment? I’m taking it that way!
We spent a night in a tiny little town called Biduedo at a charming inn named Casa Xato. It was very much like staying at someone’s house, as we were the only guests and were treated so well. The owner even started a fire for us: I have never seen anybody light a fireplace with a propane tank and a blowtorch, but it works really well! We asked her when was dinner, and she said “when do you want it?” We asked what was for dinner, and she said “what do you want?” We just ordered a thick local soup, bread, and wine, but she insisted on also serving us a meat tart very famous in Galicia. Like I said, we were family.
While the weather remained high 40s and overcast, our walk today was almost all downhill and along a river. The valley is secluded, safe from the winds, but damp. It looked like if you sat down for a moment, the moss would start growing up your leg. Cool, bordering on cold, but now we are pretty used to it. We even found an old rock wall to use to sit and rest on.
Samos monastery and town
When we crested the final hill, we could see the Monastery at Samos. This has been a place of reverent worship continuously since the 6th century. The monks took the rule of St. Benedict (Ora et labora, or prayer and work) in the 9th century, and still practice it to this day. The monastery is not technically on the Camino, on an optional side route, but has been associated with pilgrimage since the initial discovery of St. James’ remains.
Backside of the monastery
As is our routine, we arrived in the early afternoon, got cleaned up and changed, arranged for laundry, took a nap, then went sightseeing and had an early dinner. The best part of today was attending the evening Mass.
We walked 700 meters up, 20 kilometers along, and about 500 years into the past today. We are about as high up as one gets on the Camino, and it is quite literally downhill from here to Santiago. We are in o’Cebreiro, just barely into Spanish Gallicia.
Where’s the pub?
If the spelling seems odd, it is: this part of Spain is Celtic, and this mountain-top town looks it. From the round, thatched roof buildings, the stonework, the wet and above the clouds climate, it all looks pretty familiar…in Ireland, or Scotland!
State of the art, medieval
The haul up here was as hard and bad as we are used to. We passed up an offer to ride horses, which in retrospect was a poor choice. They passed by us on a tight portion of the mountain trail, and left behind one more thing to watch out for on the ground! We had no rain nor wind, but overcast skies and only 50 degrees, which in the end proved a blessing as we were generating plenty of heat on the hike.
Straight and flat, none of that
Our albergue looked like every other stone building in the tiny little town, but held a surprise: a remarkably modern room with a private bath and a nice view. Today’s effort required an afternoon nap, then some local exploration. I had my first bad pilgrim meal: puny trout and undercooked fries…I guess it had to happen sometime!
I know what killed the fish: they ate the fries
We made it to the pilgrim’s mass at the church, which is the oldest existing one tied directly to the Camino. It was very moving.
We have been on the road for more than a month now. The last night in León, we had to make a decision. We have found a comfortable pace and rest schedule, and we are steadily progressing toward Santiago. However, we are taking much longer than we anticipated, and we cannot just speed up. So, do we delay our return for 10 days, or find a way to make up time?
The latter was an option as we were in a big city, with all the transit options that entails. Since our goal was always Santiago, and we’re doing it for our own convenience, we decided to skip ahead by train. Next we had to decide how far: a day and a half to Astorga, or three days to Ponferrada. The former doesn’t buy us much time saving; the latter puts us back on our original schedule of finishing after about a month of hiking. As far as the Compostela is concerned, all that matters is the last 100 kilometers. So we jumped a train to Ponferrada and walked ahead to Cacabelos.
We skipped the ones in the background
This got us past the next mountain, and more importantly, a very steep downhill segment near Ponferrada where many have fallen. The weather has been favorable, and we are now in the el Bierzo region, a microclimate which reminds us of home. Hemmed in by mountains, they have a wet, temperate climate which makes great roses and wines.
El Bierzo vineyardsCacabelos
While we are getting more up/downhill segments and rain, the trails have been very good and the temps warm enough to make the rain just a nuisance. We still haven’t solved the challenge of timing our meals. When we want dinner, they are only serving tapas; when we want tapas, the bars are on siesta. We stayed in Cacabelos last night and la Portela tonight, before heading to o’Cebreiro tomorrow. That is the beginning of Gallicia, an ancient Celtic region where the cuisine turns more toward seafood, and the music and climate resembles Ireland.
Pilgrim’s statue, Villifranca de Bierzo
All things considered, we are in a good rhythm, and even my cold has cleared up. We look to finish strong in the coming ten days!
We took a rest day and toured León, which proved to be everything that Burgos was, only better. Its gothic cathedral was far more impressive than Burgos’ baroque one, the tapas more plentiful, the weather more amenable, and even the costs (a little) less expensive. Here’s a shot of the main altar, which has been restored to its original gothic beauty:
Stained glass second only to Chartres
But it remains difficult to really capture the effect of the entire structure. I did this video lying on the floor with my hands over my head. It starts at the dark main entrance and then pans across the ceiling through the choir area toward the aforementioned altar. You may need to change your angle of view at the end to avoid vertigo!
We still have a problem getting used to dinner times that start at 20:30. In the smaller towns, the restaurants cater to the pilgrim crowd by offering a prix-fixe menu at early dinner hours. Here in the city, some offer a pilgrim lunch, but after that it’s tapas until dinner starts after 8:30. Since we were all tapa-ed out and wanted a real dinner, we waited; it was worth it, but when you have to get up at 5:45 AM, you don’t want to be finishing dinner at 21:45!
Braised octopus: it’s what’s for dinner!
Depending on times and distances, may be a few days before another post!
We have made it to the Meseta, and the weather is sunny and warm, but not too hot yet. These legs of the journey are mostly flat, through fertile croplands and small towns.
Kansas? Maybe the flat end of Colorado?
We left Castille, but I have to mention a bit of local cuisine which demands attention: red beans and sausage. It comes as the first course on many pilgrim’s menus, and of course it is delicious. But note the size of the serving bowl in the picture: at least three full servings! I told the waiter I wanted a soup, not a swim.
So much, so good
The Meseta, or Spanish plains, is the bane of many pilgrims, for it is hot, flat, and devoid of shade. That which plagued us earlier (cooler temperatures) has now returned as a blessing, so we are enjoying very comfortable 70 degree days full of sunshine.
Judy on break, beside the road
Judy resumed carrying her pack, and we reinstituted a 5 minute rest break every hour which really rejuvenates her. I have been working to reserve us a private room each night, and aiming for a more reasonable 20 kilometer a day average. The churches are as spectacular as before: some Gothic, some Romanesque, always some Baroque inside.
He wanted to ring the bell
The towns just come and go, like the scenery: Frómista, Carrión, Calzadilla, Sahagún. Some of the small villages are nothing more than several albergues and a bar or two, with a bunch of empty houses and a population of a hundred or so. Without the Camino, they would be history.
We did have one very interesting evening in Calzadilla. About 1:30 am, a bright light over our door woke us up: the fire alarm! I could hear the alarm beeping in the hall, but the door was cool, so I went out to investigate. I ran into another pilgrim,an Englishman, who was also wondering what was going on. No one from the hostel was around. I found a way to turn off the beeping, but the power remained cut off and the emergency floodlights stayed on. We inspected the building and found nothing: no smoke, no fire, but still an active alarm. The other pilgrim went out into the town to look for the owner at another building, while I continued to fiddle with the alarm.
Suddenly, a side door flew open, and there stood the owner, naked except for a pair of speedo-style underwear, and swearing a blue streak in Spanish. I explained in English that the alarm had been going off for over 30 minutes, that we did not know what to do, and that another pilgrim was out in the town looking for him. The owner swore some more, indicating to me this was not the first time the alarm malfunctioned, that we had to reset the master fuse, and why would anybody be outside? He reset the alarm, closed the door and turned off the lights!
So I waited until my colleague came back. He had woken half the town, but now there was no alarm. I got the owner to let him back in, and off we went to sleep. Except now I can’t rid myself of the vision of the swearing-hostel-owner-in-skyvvies. I may need Lasik when we get back.
Storm clouds in the evening over Calzadilla
We’ll be in León next, preparing for the final third of the Camino.
If you get a little bored with our constant rendition of “we got up early, we walked far, the weather was bad, we were tired, we ate well, we went to bed early,” imagine how we feel! We are on the Meseta now, so our view never changes. But just to change things up for you, Judy & I worked on a thematic post (tongue planted firmly in cheek) which we share with you now:
The Eight Plagues of the Camino. Yes, I know that ancient Egypt suffered ten plagues, but we’re not done yet, so I left some space for suggestions. In Camino guidebooks and on webboards/social media, you can find many positive experiences from the Camino. These are not those. In no particular order here are the Plagues:
Snorers. We’re not talking your garden variety, mouth-breathing, rumbler. In an albergue room of 20-30 pilgrims, you’ll always find some of those…in fact I am listening to several right now as I write this at 4:00 in the afternoon. No, we’re talking roaring, snorting, animal noises like a chain-smoking velociraptor. And regardless of how small a room you’re in, there is always at least one.
Rocks. For some strange reason, it appears the Spaniards have gathered rocks from their fields, and not made fences, but instead dropped them in piles on the Camino, especially in areas with steep hills. Not gravel, but just rocks, which then wash down the trail creating little creek beds to stumble across. You can try walking around them, but there lies mud (more on that later). If you step on them, you bruise the bottom of your foot AND get the possibility of starting to slide or fall.
Mud. I have read some magnificent trail journals by pilgrims who experienced no rain on their Camino. I hate them. We traded the gray clay of the Pyrenees for the red clay of La Rioja, both sufficiently moisturized into a thick slurry which sticks to your boots, your pants, and your poles. The mud covers everything, eliminating the chance to rest by sitting down, and making the optional daily clothes washing mandatory, if you want to wear clothes (recommended).
False prophets. These come in a variety of shapes and sizes. There’s the optimistic pilgrim who insists the weather will get better tomorrow. There are the random signs which tell you it’s 10 kilometers to Azofra, then it’s 12 kilometers away (wait, is Azofra moving away from me?), no, now it’s only 6 kilometers. But the worst are the Caministas, the folks who have fallen head over heels in love with the camino. You see, people in love are rarely objective. Chief among these is a certain John Brierly, whose English language guidebook to the Camino Franced is about as accurate as using the Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales as a guide for travel through Germany. If you want to learn how to “experience” the camino, his book might work for you. If you are interested in more mundane matters like eating, sleeping, and not getting lost, not so much.
Domingo. You may know this as the Spanish word for Sunday, but it has a special camino significance. Spaniards take Saturday night very seriously, so Sunday does not start until noon. No kidding, there is no such thing as Sunday morning. Since there is no such thing, there are also no stores, restaurants, cafes, nada open during this non-time. When walking the Camino, make sure you factor this in!
Blisters. When walking 800 kilometers, it is quite likely you’ll eventually discover you have a blister. Blister prevention and care is a hot topic among pilgrims, and may be an even more volatile subject than politics! There’s the no socks, just sandals crowd, the silk liners and wool socks cabal, the vaseline group, foot powder fanatics, and that is just in the prevention discussion. Once you have a blister, everybody has a VERY STRONG opinion: Lance it! No don’t, it will get infected. Leave it alone! Compeed! Amputate! And my personal favorite: you wouldn’t get a blister if you (repeat prevention argument here).
Sudden Urges. As in, “I ate some picante pimientos last night, and now I have the sudden urge to do something about it, even though I am standing on a wide open trail in the middle of a vast vineyard.” Since all pilgrims face the same dilemma, we all eventually become rather blasé about taking care of such matters with a minimum of concealment. More shocking still is to think you’ve found an ideal, out of the way spot only to discover many, many, others have been there before. I will leave this picture to your imagination.
Timers. Europeans are very ecologically minded, and the Camino is a mass movement of people where much water and power could be wasted. Sooooo, your showers and bathroom lights are all on timers. You know it’s for a good cause, and it gets pretty easy to time the water and complete a shower without much trouble. However, many of the toilet stalls have a light timer far from the commode, meaning darkness comes upon you at the most inauspicious times. And the toilets are interior rooms, no windows, sometimes not even the timer switch is illuminated. So have a phone at the ready as a flashlight.
If you’re a Camino veteran, feel free to suggest additional plagues. I avoided anything ambiguous, like weather, since a cold rain in the Pyrenees might seem pestilential, but the same rain on a hot Meseta afternoon might seem providential.
We took a day to play tourist in Burgos, home of el Cid, the Napoleonic French occupation, a world-class cathedral, and some excellent tapas & wine. You’ll note the clouds which followed us across Spain have lifted, and the temperature hit 60 degrees, but if you look closely, you will see locals and tourists alike with coats on, as we still have some overcast and wind.
Note the coats
We managed to rest, sleep in, eat well, and warm up. I am fighting off a minor cold brought on by all that bad weather; Judy seems to be healing well, though she did take a header on the cobblestone streets here.
The CathedralThe main altarpiece
We have all our laundry clean, we have repacked our backpacks, and we’ll resume the walk tomorrow. We are entering the Meseta, rolling plains known for hot sun and little shade or water. I can’t say I won’t complain, but after what we already faced, it sounds pretty good. Enjoy the photos!
All smiles from the CastilloNo idea who this guy is, but I want him on my side in a fight!
Remember when Apollo 13 went out of radio contact with Houston as they circled the moon during their remarkable adventure? We were sort of “out there” beyond WiFi and even phone service the last few days. And we had a few memorable moments.
This guy was also at our albergue. Apparently he had a role at the Cathedral… it’s a long story!
In Santo Domingo de la Calzada, I wanted to visit the Cathedral where the saint is buried. I followed the signs to the entrance, but when I got there, it was the entrance to a museum. I asked the gatekeeper if I could go in to pray. Only for Mass, later, he told me. What if I just want to pray now? I asked. Three Euros for the museum, he said. Hmmm, “isn’t this how Martin Luther got started”, I wondered. We came back for Mass that night, and the Cathedral was packed, not with pilgrims, but with locals! Seems a local man named Antonio had died, and we were at his funeral mass. We were welcomed nonetheless. He had an impressive show of flowers, family, and friends.
Later that night, we stayed at the parrochial albergue. Our room had about twenty older adults, so I figured it might be loud snoring-wise, but certainly boring. Until about 2:00 am, when one Italian man started shouting. It started as just loud talking and banging about with his gear. As more of the pilgrims began to “shush” him, he got louder and nastier, although that was just by tone, as I don’t speak Italian. Finally I heard someone ask in Spanish what time it was, and the Italian said something like two-forty, turned ON the overhead lights, and stomped out of the room. I guess we’ll never know what ticked him off!
Last night we had a private albergue in a tiny town called Villamayor. It was so cold inside when we arrived in the afternoon, we sat outside in our coats and took a nap, as we had full sun for the first time in a week. Later the hospitalera turned on the heat, but then she turned it off again at night. At least we had ample hot water in the showers.
We are in Villifranca today, headed for Burgos tomorrow. Today marks the end of two full weeks on the camino. The path has become smoother and much less hilly. The weather remains poor: overcast, windy, with highs of 50 degrees, at best. It is cold enough to chill you without a jacket, but too warm and sweaty with one. After a day or so in Burgos, we will enter the Meseta, where perhaps some sun and warmth await.
It being the Sabbath and all, we slept in until 7:00 am, took leisurely showers, got dressed and hit the bar next door for breakfast. Since we have now visited it four times (!), We were greeted like locals.
Know how some folks have a knack for closing bars? We have a similar knack for opening churches. We walked to the church on the main square, which was clearly under renovation. As we deciphered the sign on the front door, a little church lady opened it, and explained we should follow her to the chapel down the street, where she pulled out keys to open early for us for Sunday Mass.
After Mass, we hit the local supermercado for a few supplies, and we’ll visit the town museum later. Nájera was the regional home of a kingdom once upon a time, so a visit is practically mandatory. Here are some of the photos I have been trying to post for the past several days:
I could have taken this shot 500 times so far. In the guidebooks, they always describe how good the camino trail is, but I have found it to be very rough, especially on the slopes. It may not show well here, but this is about a 7% uphill slope.
This is the main church in Logroño. If they all start to look alike after a while, you’re not alone.
These are shots inside the church in Navarette. It was a tiny village, yet the church was amazing inside.
These are our Aussie friends, Valerie, LeeAnn, and David, strategizing on routes and places to stay while waiting for laundry to dry.
Nájera is a compact, picturesque town built into a cliffside along a river. It has been a great place to rest and regroup.
We asked her when was dinner, and she said “when do you want it?” We asked what was for dinner, and she said “what do you want?” We just ordered a thick local soup, bread, and wine, but she insisted on also serving us a meat tart very famous in Galicia. Like I said, we were family.
