Endless Castilla

Finally Spring seems to be winning the battle against Winter, and Santiago has rewarded me with two calm days of glorious sunshine, just perfect for walking. The landscape has opened out, and it hasn t taken me long to appreciate that in spite of the snow, I am walking at the best time of year. Any later in the year, and the heat would be intolerable. I climbed up the steep slope out of Castroderliz (or something like that) to be greeted to cheers and was handed chocolate by a couple of Germans who had already made it to the top. Beyond that point the land was more of less flat, but the ground stony, and as the day wore on, I became convinced that every night the Devil must send out his little helpers to carefully place all the stones sharp edge upwards to press into the blistered feet of the brave or foolish who have made it so far.

Finally I arrived at Boadilla del Camino where Juli had recommended to me the most fantastic albergue ran by Eduardo who welcomed us and where we ate the most fantastic pilgrim dinner, together with the above mentioned Germans, 2 Koreans and an Australian.

The next day we set out into the mist, through Fromista, and on to Carrion de los Condes. Carrion de los Condes is significant in my mind, because it was where Juli was obliged to stop in 2003 for a day, having suffered since Hontanas with tendonitis. I remember at the time talking to Juli on the phone, but her suffering at the time was distant, now, as I walked was I able to understand how much she must have suffered firstly to be walking through this unforgiving landscape in pain, and secondly the frustration of having to stop while her companions continued on with out her. Carrion de los Condes in my mind was a dark place , so it was nioce to find that it is a very pleasant place. I am staying in the same monestary as Juli.

Once again, I have read all the comments so many people have left me. Thankyou, it is great to know I am not walking alone! You are all very much in my thoughts. And of course here I have a lot of time to think!

To Hontanas

Today, as expected was hard work, 29km walking against a strong driving wind which threatened to blow us all back to Roncesvalles. Juli warned me that the stages between Burgos and Leon are what you might call psychological. There is no scenery to fix your bearings, you climb up to the crest of a hill, only to find a new crest beyond that, and when you finally reach the top, it is a sort of endless plain stretching out into the distance with no villages, trees or nothing, just wind electrical generators disappearing off into the distance. The few villages there are a tucked away in valleys so you cant see them. All this coupled with the constant wind whistling round your head adds to the harshness of the landscape. Still I imagine it could be worse. In summer the sun must be merciless. At 4-30 I finally arrived but no sign of any familiar faces. Talking to an English pilgrim, I discovered that Kevin, the Irishman had stayed back in Hornillos. Hontanas is a small village, with no m0bile phone coverage (shock horror) but I was invited to play cards with the women who run the albergue. As one of the women pointed out, lucky no money was involved in the card game, because these 3 would have cleaned me out pretty quickly. So by 8-00 I had showered, and had dinner and have headed up to the village bar for a beer, and have found what is apparently the only internet in town. Working from a modem (no ADSL here). I have about a week of this sort of terrain until finally we reach Leon. As Uggi the Korean says, this is will be a great opportunity to concentrate on my walking.

Dont look down....

Yesterday was difficult. The weather held up, but it was a long climb up over the pedraja up some 1100 m altitude. Although the scenery for the climb was breathtaking, up the top I got bogged down again in mud and that was tiring. And worse, upon my arrival i discovered , horror of horrors the beginning of a blister on the bottom of my foot , in just the worst place. All of a sudden I became aware of the distance that separates me from my destination, and also from Juli, my family and friends. We had done the stage Burgos to Ontanas in October 2006 and I arrived exhausted. Now i started to imagine the same walk, with a heavy pack, rain, wind, and a blister, multiplied by 20 days and...bufff.

Things started to improve with a visit from Tio Jose who came to the rescue with compeed miracle blister plasters. He seems to be OK but the loss of Tia Elo has torn a big hole in his life. We had an enjoyable evening sharing a pilgrim menu.

The next day arrived with blue skies and the blister plaster seemed to do the trick. So i set off to cover the 26km to Burgos relieved to see that the rain threatened had not appeared. Serious miscalculation. One hour later I was hastily putting back on my waterproof trousers on the top of a mountain, and bracing myself as the rain, quickly turned once more to snow.

Luckily , the snow only lasted a couple of hours, and following another struggle through mud I arrived at a bar for a second breakfast around 12-30. During this stop, Juli phoned and explained to me all of the comments that people have been leaving me on the blog, and it certainly is such a help to receive all this support. Like my sort of cousin Clare says, I just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and each day I will be closer to Santiago.

I am writing this from Nacho s flat in Burgos. Nacho is one of Juli´s closest friends from those endless summers in Quintanavides. He and Isabel have kindly offered me a bed for the night and it is marvellous to have my own space, and relax with Nacho and his family.

Burgos is one third of the way to Santiago, and so represents a significant staging post for me. Tomorrow, I am going to do Burgos to Ontanas, putting one foot in front of the other.

snow!

As threatened, Saturday arrived in Navarrete with snow, driving horizonatally into our faces, but luckily without settling on the path. Furthermore the stage had no villages to stop at so we had 19km with no shelter apart from a tunnel under a road, where we recovered our energy with cakes and dried fruit. Luckily the snow stopped, and following Najera we made quick progress on to Azofra to a luxurious albergue looked after by a man who also ran a wine celler(a bodegero , what more could you expect in the Rioja). In the evening we prepared a salad together with 3 Basques and a couple from Valencia following which the "bodegero" appeared with 3 bottles of his wine for us to try...a gesture not greatly appreciated by a German pilgrim who protested at 10-00 that he was being kept awake by our revelry...the "bodegero"solved by closing the door conecting the kitchen room from the sleeping quarters "if he protests again, I ll find him a room up on the 3rd floor" as he opened another bottle of tinto.

It must have been good wine, because we all slept like logs(apart from the unfortunate German) and with no lasting effects the next morning.

Today the snow had given way to rain, but the strong wind remained, but we made good progress on through Santo Domingo de la Calzada, where I caught up with Kevin an Irishman, Sean from Australia and a Korean with a name I have difficulty pronouncing and less idea how to write. The weather at this stage had cleared up with sunshine, turning into a pleasant afternoon, and given that we were all feeling fine this, coupled with the threat of more rain tomorrow , encouraged us to continue on to Belorado.

Torres del Rio - Navarrete

Yesterday, I walked some 28km from Estella to Torres del Rio, thus avoiding staying at Los Arcos which I remembered Rachel had described as being "creepy". Indeed creepy it was..my only encounter with a local was a man who said " tomorrow you´ll be treading on snow...." so I carried on to Torres del Rio, to a hostel called Casa Mari which Mel had recommended and was truly worth the extra distance, although I suffered the last 4 km with a swollen foot and a bit of pain.

Today dawned with a light rain, and i set out in trepidation, afraid of my foot giving me more problems. The day started with 10km of up and down muddy and slippery slopes. There is a Spanish phrase "tread with muddy feet" meaning " be careful" and today i fully understood where this phrase comes from! I had originally planned to go just as far as Logroño (about 20km) but i made good progress and found that my foot wasnt hurting at all, so carried on to Navarrete some 12 km further. Just before Navarrete, on the right hand side of the path, there was a long stretch of fence separating the camino from the motorway which someone had spent a lot of time decorating with crosses made from twigs woven through the fence. As i walked along i became amazed at the extent of this work of art stretching for several hundred metres, and with no sign of coming to an end..until finally I got it..the decoration was of course the work of pilgrims, at which point I duly placed my own cross with the others! This simple revelation was the high point of my day, the revelation of the power of participation instead of remaing a spectator. The crosses finally finished a couple of km later where the fence stopped.

Departures and Arrivals

The last days prior to may departure were all rather intense. I was not able to announce that I was leaving work until the very last day at 12-00. Everyone convened into my office, and i think it was a bit of a bombshell to everybody. Then I walked around the factory floor shaking hands and saying good bye. For the most part, I think i managed to keep myself together, but when i said goodbye to Jose Luis, the only thing he could say was "me parece muy mal, pero my mal " (over and over again and I couldnt keep the tears back. Jose Luis must be around 52 and is the best operator anyone could ask for in a factory, the sort of guy we always took the auditors to because he always explained his procedures perfectly. A sad day, at 5 Juli came to pick me up and off we went.



But the week wasnt all sad, since on the 13th Antonio arrived (Joey and Laura´s new son) and both Laura and Antonio were in great form. It was so relaxing to sit holding Antonio watching him sleep in my arms. Nora was delighted with her new brother. Antonio is lucky to have such a caring family around him.



A relaxing weekend, and then off to Roncesvalles, via Pamplona. I was nervous but happy to arrive in Pamplona, where I met Seamus at lunch, an Irish man who was having certain difficulty in understand the menu which was being rattled off to him at high speed by the waitress, who seeoing that he didnt understand just seemed to repeat the same only faster and faster. Under such circumstances, it is very easy to drum up conversation so I had a very pleasant lunch talking about the camino de Santiago and Seamus plan which was to go down and see the semana santa in Malaga.



Finally arrived at Roncesvalles at 7, just in time to get a bed at the hostel and then listen to the pilgrim´s mass, which was truly fantastic. The mass is a mixture of spoken and chanted in a wonderful church, a truly marvellous atmosphere where you really appreciate that you are about to set off on a journey with such a rich history and which for so many people has a truly spiritual significance.


During the night i could here rain falling and sure enough when we left the refuge at 1830 it was raining, so off we trudged on the first wet steps of the 750 km to Santiago. 1 km later most of us decided it was time for breakfast.

Most of the pilgrims i spoke to were planning to stop at Zubiri, but since i was feeling fine by the time I arrived, I decided to push on the next 6 km to the next village where my guide book indicated the recommended stage to finish. One and a half hours later, the village came into sight, and a warm shower and pilgrims menu beckoned me so I dragged my exhausted feet the last few steps into the centre of the village where i found 4 other pilgrims sitting on some wooden benches. Where´s the hostel I asked? It is difficult to describe how quickly elation plunges to despair when they replied that everything was shut, no hostel, no food, no nothing.

Pilgrim s lesson number one. Don t count on anything going as planned.

Pilgrims lesson number two. Don t consider what you have lost, consider what you have found. I had just found Xabi, Eva, Luis and Miguel, who have been my companions for the last 3 days.

Following a thorough appraisal of the options available to us, we decided to press on the next 10 km to the next village, Arre which is 5 km short of Pamplona. There our effort was reward since we found the most luxurious refuge which we virtually had to ourselves, warm, with washing machine, tumble dryer and even sofa... not exactly a typical pilgrim hostel.