Shell Shock - Nell's Big Walk

Santiago to Fisterra 08-the 'Prequel' to our Camino Frances in 09

2009-11-20T08:43:00.000-08:00

I did this 'bit' in 2008 but it makes 'geographic sense' to put it here I think.

Walking from Santiago to Fisterra was a teaser for me as I reckoned if I could do 100km in 3 days I might at least have a chance of attempting the Camino Frances next year in 09, and keeping a promise I made over 30 years ago.

With the exception of Joyce, who walked from Sarria to Santiago last Sept, we are all virgin pilgrims. So by default she has become our 'Camino mammy' and provides great reassurance.

Leaving Santiago for Fisterra 2008 Joyce, Catherine, Mary and Nell- 'pilgrims all'.

1 old hand and 3 newbies

Santiago to Negreira-Day one: So exciting to set off this morning but also scary walking across the square and down to the river-scary and wonderful. Mary and I were paranoid about missing the markers and we kept on course as a result, the other two, being more experienced and relaxed, chattered away and missed the one of the markers so had to loop back.

Its a great walk out of the city up through groves of eucalyptus, and the view back towards the towers of the Cathedral silhouetted against the morning sun is unforgetable. This is the vista that Irish pilgrims, making their way east from the coast, would have seen of the city and its an impressive one.

There was a lovely little private hostal and bar on the river at Puente de Maceira- it must be new as its not mentioned in Brierley. If we'd known we would have elected to stay there rather than the Hotel Tamara .
On the far side of the bridge huge carved family crests dwarf the houses they decorate-with the result that the buildings look like a very posh gingerbread houses- presumably not the effect they were going for.

Catherine catching the rays day one Puenta de Maceira

Further 'nattering' means that Joyce and Catherine miss another turn off so not only do they miss a wonderful walk through lush river meadows into Negreira, they also end up playing 'pilgrim chicken' (not to be recommended) with articulated lorries on the soaring concrete flyovers into the town. As both were wearing shorts they thought the drivers were sounding their horns in appreciation but soon realised that the gestures and 'beep beeps' really meant 'get off the bloody road before you're killed!".
So Mary and I arrive into hotel Tamara, which is 'deeply seventies', expecting 'the gals' to be there with our drinks ready but there's no sign of them. Neither of us can really believe we've arrived first until, having had a shower and rest, we're sitting in the car park (the Hotel Tamara doesn't mess around with decking or arbours!) having a gin and tonic and we actually witness the two 'hares' late arrival via the main road (I have to admit I take a wee bit of pleasure in this!)
Having 'Day One' down without loss of limb or major accident is something to celebrate so the four of us sit in sun with our feet propped on the chairs we've carried out from the bar, sipping G & T''s and sampling the local crisps/nibblets. One could get used to this.......
Head up town to 'scope out' our departure route for the next morning and to grab a bite. Not everywhere is open and we opt to eat in a little bar. Get a great meal, the fact that a key soccer match is being watched ;very loudly; by the locals in the bar at the 'front of house' somehow adds to the charm. Catherine, a vegetarian, orders salad which comes with a pile of unidentifiable slivers, beige on one side and white on the other, having sampled one she thinks they're mushrooms....I taste one and have my doubts- its awfully meaty in texture but I 'keep stumm'
Walk back to the Tamara and I'm asleep as soon my head touches the pillow

Day two Joyce demonstrating some of her 'moves'

Negreira to Oleviroa-day two.

So much for planning: Mary and I had arranged to leave the Hotel at 6.00am and crept down like mice to the front door only to find it firmly locked. There was no way out of the building and, though we were as cross as a wet cat, neither of us was quite ready to set an alarm off by using the emergency exit (well I was but Mary's good sense prevailed).
We tried calling the hotel on our mobiles to see if some sort of 'night staff' were hidden away in the depths-but the only phone that sounded was in the Marie Celeste like reception area. All dressed up with no where to go! Today's walk was over 30 km so we tortoises had both wanted to a good head start.

The 'Negreira two' were only 'let out' at 7.10- and as it turned out this was a good thing as we were still walking in the dark- Mary leading as she had a head torch on (they are such handy little yokes) Every time she turned to talk to me though I felt as startled as a torched deer.

It's cool,damp and dark with lots of muddy climbs gaining ascent. The two Spanish guys we first met heading up the hill out of Santiago kindly waited for us to make sure we made the right turning for Xas-nice little place with a lovely chapel.
Fairly hard muddy going to A Pena but through wonderful woods (mixture of Eucalyptus and oak) so it doesn't seem a 'slog'. There was a great bar at 'the top' of the town and, in view of the walking distance, we had a good breakfast. Meet up with swiss party so perfectly kitted out we feel more than a little scruffy.I made a mistake and told Mary we only had 13km to go but it was closer to 20km.... mea culpa mea maxima culpa!

Passed by a group of Irish women and when we asked if they had seen Joyce and Catherine the leader said "oh yes they're real walkers" I guess we've been written off and by one of our own to which is hard! Down in Santa Marina we saw that our compatriots had 'gone astray' so they ended up walking behind us, but being good pilgrims said nothing (we were smiling on the inside though-well I was).
Everyone congregated in the bar Casa Victoriano and I was quite surprised when half of the group ended up taking taxis from there to Oleviroa as if that were the norm- maybe it is?

Mary felt pretty tired but wanted to soldier on to Monte Alto. There was a lot of road walking and a 'diverseo' meant even more road -so hard on Mary who has award winning blisters. I feel every stinging step she takes but my goodness she is one tough cookie.

JJ and CM press ahead while we make snails pace....... it may be 13 hours after leaving Negreira but Mary and I arrive into Oleviroa under our own steam.

Joyce and Catherine have the largest gin and tonics I've ever seen waiting for us-I thought they had set them up as a joke-one could bath a small child in the bucket sized glass I'm given-but apparently these are the 'regular' size. Mary made the walk today but at a cost -her feet are so bad that her G & T qualifies as medicinal.

All the pilgrims seem to eat at the little hotel here and there's a great 'pilgrim centered' vibe about the place. Once I showered and ate the thought of the long walk tomorrow is not as scary as I thought it would be, and if Mary needs a break I'm fine with the idea of walking on my own.

Day two A Pena The first coffee break of the day-nothing tops it

Open country en route to Oleviroa day two

Oleviroa to Fisterra-Day three. Mary took a bit of a well earned break today and met us in Fisterra, so for the first time I really walked solo. Settled into my pace and could stop and savour the scenery, which was gorgeous. Outside Olverioa the turquoise and gold water of the stream was so enticing-if the day had been shorter one I would have gone for a dip for sure.

The walk from Olveiroa to Cee is spectacular and, once past Hospital, the walking is truly amazing across high open country on trackway with just a minor road or two to cross. To the south is a range of steep, black serrated mountains very different from the gently rounded tops the Camino itself crosses and it makes me wonder about the geography-I'll have lots of reading up to do back home.

Once beyond Hospital I only saw (and on this high ground you can see far ahead and far behind you) two other pilgrims, the two Spanish teachers. I met them at a beautiful little chapel sunk in a valley and one of them said to me "ah now you're walking your camino".

There was a Marian shrine attached to the chapel with a statue was so worn and weathered it seemed more xoanon than Madonna.

We'd heard these guys singing on the previous two days but always when they were apart never when together, and today I asked them why? They explained that as they walk together a lot they have developed a 'diplomatic' system so when one wants a bit of 'space' he starts to sing - that's a signal for the other to slow down or speed up- giving the singer 'space'- when the singing stops (and these guy had very big voices and a large repertoire of Galician folk songs) that's a sign for them to walk together. Well its worked for them for over 20 years so there must be something in it.

Steep climb out of the valley up and up. Long lone distances -high sun, silence and, far far away, the indistinguishable blue of sea and sky

It was very hot and I had used all my water by the time I passed the 'summer only' Albergue-the guide said there was a fountain off track up by a little chapel of San Pedro de Martir so I went up to fill my bottles. Presuming the chapel would be closed I was surprised to hear noises inside. I pushed the door open a little and the next moment hundreds (well at least 20 or 30) "baaing" lambs streamed out past me-what on earth were they doing in there? and who had put them in the first place? Was this an improvised fold for some local shepherd? Fearing I had just undone his hard work I bolted out of there it as fast as I could- but the lambs seemed happy.

At a marker for Nercia I took my last look back over the high ground before descending into Cee the track was completely deserted-slight thrill of being the 'last pilgrim down'. I don't know whats happened to all the other walkers today perhaps they took the Muxia route? At this point there's a tantalising view of the lighthouse at Fisterra-gosh it seemed a long way off but that view drew me forward.

The final descent into Cee is tricky (a complete bugger actually)- a compacted and steep surface which, even with walking poles and heavy duty knee braces, is punishing. I know my knees will be knackered tomorrow The combination of steep descent, rock hard surface and blisters is something I wouldn't like to repeat.
Find myself sounding like the old ladies at home doing 'the rounds' in bare feet, but in their case every expletive they utter of "Jesus Christ" or "Holy Mother" is turned into the start of a prayer-I'm afraid with me it was just the expletives.

Arriving into Cee I was fairly stunned to see Joyce and Catherine sitting in the sun at a cafe on the square in- just finishing off some tortilla. Couldn't believe I was so close behind them -we reckoned only about 25 minutes in the difference- as they said they had 'legged it' to get in as much time as possible on the coast. It was great to by be the sea at Cee and turn right to head up the coast to Fisterra.

Met up with a rested looking Mary at Fisterra and treated ourselves by staying at a wonderful little hotel just over the road from the beach.
Staggered into the sea decrepit knackered pilgrims and staggered out merely happy pilgrims- I have never experienced such a an immediate therapeutic result in my life-bliss I could walk with a gait that was vaguely humanoid.

V for victory-we made it day three

Put on clean clothes and light shoes/sandals for the walk up to the lighthouse and made it up in good time for the sunset- though the girls say I did swear (under my breath but I was breathing heavily) every step of the way. Fantastic feeling to have made it and I'm really feeling so much more positive about walking from Saint Jean Pied de Port to Santiago next year with Frances. I keep telling myself "that's only what we've done in the last 3 days X 8.... no problem!

Joyce & Nell letting 'those at home' know our news

Sunset at Fisterra May 2008

The rewards of pilgrimage-enjoying the beach at Fisterra day three & four

Mary and I stay on for a few days and enjoying the beach, which is glorious the hotel which is wonderful and walking barefoot which is blissful.
We get a taxi back to Santiago the journey takes an good hour and a half in a fast taxi on a good road. We both look at the landscape we walked through whizzing past calling out "we walked over those hills", "did we pass that village?" etc ;
At the airport I do a bit of window shopping and spot jars of the mysterious beige and white slivers of 'mushroom' that vegetarian Catherine had in her salad in Negreira.... turns out they're elvers-baby eels! I'll bet there's some sort of formal dispensation for any innocent vegetarians becoming 'inadvertent carnivores' on the Camino? Anyway I'm pretty sure Santiago will forgive, not only Catherine, but all of us for any en route errors (mea culpa!).

A Feast or Famine? In Santiago its definitely a Feast

2009-11-10T05:13:00.000-08:00

Thats my little lobster

Often on the English version pilgrim menus we would see the in the option 'small cow chop' and 'Big cow chop' I sampled the 'small cow chop' a good few times and they were good but now I was ready to take on the Big Cow Chop option so thats what I ordered. They presented me with a wooden board and well..... a picture paints a thousand words. Of course it was delicious and the others having laughed like hyenas when it first came out suffered severe plate/board envy once they tasted it. But it is a once a quarter sort of order.

'Big Cow Chop'

On post Camino reflection I wouldn't be without my:- Sprayway 'Compact jacket' (cotton effect Gortex easily squashed into pack), Pac Lite over trousers (brilliant light fold into tiny space-don't lose them!), Jack Murphy poncho, 'Trekmates' gloves, Northface Tech jerkin, Spayway 'Whisper 1665' light front zipping fleece, Columbia 'Titanium' Tech walking pants with lots of pockets (great for sello etc), Pull on 'neck tubes' one in tech material for sun and sweat & fleecy one for warmth, Bridgedale 'Trek' socks & Bridgedale Liner socks, Berghaus 'Tech T' teeshirts with throat zip and collar (for sun), Brasher 'Towa GTX' boots (thick spongy soles absorb road shock and protect heals etc),Source 'X strap' sandals (spongy soles, light and waterproof for showers etc), M & S sunhat with soft adjustable chin strap, Elastoplast heavy duty adjustable knee straps (velcro fasteners) & smaller strap knee braces (for after dinner wear!), Compeed sticks/vaseline/vicks vapour rub(all for feet) & Compeed plasters, Black Diamond Sychro walking poles with 'Flicklock' fasteners, Lowe Alpine 'Air Zone Centro' 45+10 pack (ladies version).

Celebrations

2009-11-07T17:46:00.000-08:00

Hostal de los Reyes Catolicos

" No really I'd like to see your pilgims menu please......"

"you're certain you only have fresh vegtables and absolutely no chips........"

What's she looking at.......

Stephen!

Stephen and Nell

Chris and Frances.....
getting the giggles

and many hours later........

It's sleep Stephen but not as you know it......

Reunions with some "brave companions of the road"

2009-11-07T16:50:00.001-08:00

We made it!

Jozefien (1st met walking out of Astorga last seen Villafranca), Anne Matte (1st seen Estella 1st met Villafranca last seen Palas de Rei), Nell and Frances

Anne Matte now

....then

Jozefien now....

....then.

Anne Matte, Nell, Frances, Vis and Viana aks the 'Galloping Grannies' (1st met outside Leon last seen Palas de Rei)

Now.....

...then.

Sung Hi (1st seen at Burgette or Zubiri 1st met at Puente La Reina last seen at Rua Dos Concheiros!)

Now....

....then (15 minutes ago!)

Mr and Mrs Trolleyman. He started walking last October in Rome and walked all the way (1st seen outside Belorado last met at Ribadiso)

Now.....

...then .

Kate Rutherford aka Kwik kate (1st met on the road to San Juan de Ortega last seen Castrojerez)

Now.....

...then

Ultreia!

Arco do Pino to Santiago de Compostella

2009-11-07T16:11:00.000-08:00

L'Ultima passegiatta

Its the last time I tell the early morning lie "get up Frances its 8 O'clock" This essential devise has served us well for over a month, letting us get the early starts whilst allowing Frances to hang onto the fantasy that she's not a crazy pilgrim getting up at sparrow fart (God knows its little enough of an indulgence).

I share my wicked midnight plans with her and she stuns me be saying she was a whisker away from suggesting we leg it as well but thought that I would 'veto' such heresy! I can't believe it 5 hours ago we were so close to folding.... phew!

Leave do Pino in the dark and its still grey at Lavacolla. Pleasantly surprised by the walk up to Monte del Gozo we had been prepared for a dull trudge but it's a nice walk actually.

We arrive at the monument from which you have the first view of Santiago. Well of course its our usual 'metaphorical view' as its misty, but who cares-I think I can smell tartes baking and pulpo simmering and Frances discerns a shadow in the mist that could be a towered building - & that's good enough for us.

Besides we now have another shot to add to the snow/mist/rainout section of our photos this contains such luminaries as the view towards the Col de Leopolder, the Cruz de Ferro & O'Ceibreiro. Thinking about it we could just use blank A4 sheet for the section but that may be a bit 'Tate Modern'?

Frances breaks out the last piece of Camino chocolate but we don't take the boots off or hang around this time as something seems to be 'reeling us in' and we quicken in response to the pull of that current. Walk for a bit with a retired french couple who have walked from Le Puy-they both look immaculate and it turns out they crossed the Pyrenees a few days ahead of us-but my goodness are they fit.

Pull in for breakfast at the huge 'Alberguearama' that can accomadate hundreds. Its fantastically organised and signed-though pretty its not. The two of us share a dining room the size of a airplane hanger with a small group of lively Spanish school kids. Its the last cafe con leche/Colacao of the road, a poignant but happy moment. I also know I am Camino crazy as I actually really like this place and wish we had taken a lead from Anne Matte and pushed on here yesterday evening. Though we guess she will probably have made an early start we still keep checking out for her.

Leaving the cafeteria we see some pilgrims descending a flight of steep steps leading down to the main plaza and one girl trips and falls down, hurting herself so badly she won't be finishing her Camino today or any day soon! The thought of this is so traumatic that we morph from the nonchalant randonneurs of this morning with their confident stroll into a pair of fearful octogenarians cautiously shuffling along.

There is terrific signage all through the complex but right at the end as you are leaving it to head onto public road again the signage stops.......where are the multilingual interpretive boards now?....just how do we get out of the place? to get lost now would be killing........then Frances spots it just ahead and to our right, daubed low down on a bit of kerbing, A HAND PAINTED YELLOW ARROW! From high tech to no tech in an instant and we laugh out loud-this is either the most emotionally intelligent signage ever or Camino serendipity working its magic once again.

'King David' from the sculptors garden wall on the way out of the complex

To get into the city we have to walk over some sort of fly over and as the pavement is made of slats you can see bits of the road flashing below you What with the traffic below us and the traffic flying along beside us, we got dizzy and disorientated. It sounds pathetic but it was scary and we crawled along as if on the flimsiest of rope bridges-at one point even holding hands. So much for our image of being tough 'camino veterans'.

Walking up through the modern suburb I stop to retie my laces and as I am bent over a young pilgrim on a bike thinking I am about to pass out kindly stops, pats my back and says "Ultreia we are nearly there"- Well bugger that for a bunch of monkeys my last bastion of prejudice- my hatred for cyclists- is snatched from me within an asses roar of the blooming Cathedral and 15 minutes before my Camino ends.

I see a flash of pink and purple ahead and wonder can it be 'Purple girl' (AKA Sung Hi a korean who has been part of our daily 'walking pack' a good few times since I think just beyond Burgette or Zubiri but who we haven't seen since O'Cebrieiro) It is and I am happy to be walking in along side of someone from the early days. We see the first glimpse of the cathedral towers and I'm off like a shot

Sung Hi and Nell catching the first glimpse of the cathedral

On the Azabacheria we pass a mime group of girls and they are not only talking at a rate of knots they are talking so loud-maybe they need to let off steam before being silenced for the length of their performance!

When planning our journey back home we had agreed that we might want to go into the square separately or together on our arrival and had decided that we would do what felt right in the moment. Despite being excited as we approached we all spontaneously slowed up to 'go in' together-it just seemed right.

So happy to be here - as well as the shared outward expressions of relief/satisfaction at our successful Camino I feel a quiet, intense, almost secret joy at having completed my individual journey.

The icing on the cake is that Anne Matte has come on the off chance she would find us and she does! She had stayed in Gozo and arrived in at 8 with the square to herself. She walked us to the pilgrims office and we will meet up again later for a celebratory meal. The word is Jozefien is due in tomorrow but no one has heard of Gudweg, Liz and John, Steve, Emily and Sean, Johannas, Kate or Gunta for a while.

Anne Matte, Nell and Sung Hi

Nell, Anne Matte and Frances 07.05.09

Well here we are having kept our promise. I am so proud of my Compostela I may get a copy of it tatooed on my back!

After picking up our certs I phone Stephen and arrange to 'meet the boys before mass' (now there's a phrase from my youth I didn't expect to use again) Giddy as schoolgirls at the thought of meeting our partners of decades we try and doll ourselves up before they arrive-but there really isn't that much that can be done with soap and water. They arrive and we jump them - gosh stephen smells good and I nearly choke him with a hug of hugs.

Mr Brierley was right (of course) the front group of pews is reserved for pilgrims and, following his instructions, we boldly walk around the blue barrier and get the best seats in the house. Craning my neck to check out who's here and, oddly, its the 13 faces from that first pilgrims meal at Roncevalles that I find myself looking for-I am puzzled as as I've walked with other pilgrims for far longer and know them better than most in that group yet its still those others I seek out first.

The best seats in the house

The singing nun (well one of them)

Happy Pilgrims!

Mass over there's only one thing left to do................

.........give Noamh Seamus a hug and a pogue!

Ribadiso to Arca do Pino

2009-11-07T16:03:00.000-08:00

Glorious morning and glorious walking- and every step brings us closer but 'Festina lente' has served us well so far so we don't go mad and rush to keep up with fresher pilgrims but hold our pace.

'The old dog for the road and the pup for the gutter'

Wishing us a whispered 'Buen Camino' she shuffled past us on her daily pilgrimage.

I wondered how many pilgrims she's greeted over the years?

We pass a memorial to the pilgrim Guilmo Watt who died at this spot en route to Santiago.

and Frances leaves a tribute- she's not the first to do so today.

Pretty bushed when we reach O'Pino. Went for a drink in the hotel which has a nice shady garden and as we are sitting there the older lady who had been looking at us with such attention at the cafe the day before yesterday joins us. She is a Swiss, very charming and has done the CF in 3 or 4 stages. She says she could tell Frances and I were "established and familiar walking partners" just by looking at us! Her own walking companion has walked the Jakobsweg from Lake Constance doing a section a year over 10 years and will be finishing her epic journey in a few days....now that's an acheivement.
After diner we use the mobile to phone 'the lads' it seems that they have become Santiago 'groupies' and regale us with stories of tapas bars, wIne bars, fine restaurants, markets bursting with food and the 5 star hotel San Francisco-it all seems a lot further away than 20 km.
Lying in bed later that night I keep thinking that Stephen and Chris are so close sleeping is a 5 star hotel with a pool and room service and that if we got a taxi right now we could be there in 40 minutes. I reason with myself and try to suppress the impulse but it keeps on coming to mind. The only reason I don't do it is that I know Frances would have none of it ....but I want to duff out and run for the hills and my inner voice tells me "come on you've done it, whats the last 20k signify in the grand scheme of things?.... Nothing". These are midnight thoughts "Get thee behind me Satan".

Boots ready for the morning I hope they won't need to be cast in bronze like poor Mr Watts'

Palas De Rei to Ribadiso

2009-11-07T15:44:00.000-08:00

I love the way they leave the cabbages grow and just keep plucking the leaves they need for Soupa Galago. The 'standard cabbage' is a much more aristocratic thing than the regular cabbage

Of cabbages and Kings-Galician Cabbages

Take a 'foot break' at the bridge at Ponte Velha just before the climb up to Melide - pilgrim after pilgrim trudges past and there is real sense of a substantial body of pilgrims-I don't get time to look at each face in a group because they are so many of them. What must it have been like with the Camino at its medieval peak?- an unbroken chain of people between and through the towns.

The Swedish pastoral group goes by two by two and we nod to each other-the gracious energy saving nod of the truly knackered. Its a steep climb up to Melide but worth it I like the place and the people there. In a paneria a substantial older lady asks why we do 'it'-I indicate what the journey has done to our waistbands- impressed she pretends to pick up my pack and hit the road herself and the lassie behind the counter Frances and myself and the 'Peregrina' all laugh- a lovely moment shared.

There was something a bit 'disco' about the pose but I thought I saw the figure of christ moving as we passed by the crucifix in Melide- it was very hot so may be addlepated

Neither of us feels up to 'pulpo' Melides speciality so walk through to the far side of town. Here we meet up with the singing French party who have been revived by a mostly liquid lunch it seems. They are very jolly and long after they have passed us we hear their songs fading into the distance.

Last of the singing Randonneurs at Melide

Church door Santa Maria de Melide

Just outside Melide met a pilgrim with a donkey returning from Santiago the poor donkey was heavily loaded.
Decide to go for lunch and a siesta 'en plein air' and Frances sources yet another fine spot under a large leafy tree-the light flickering through the leaves is hypnotic and I'm out for the count in seconds.
Paused in Boente to go into the chapel, got some welcome shade and a final pilgrim blessing from the priest there-he was very taken with Frances and gave us little prayers with a photo of the statue of Santiago in the church.

Pretty hot and dusty going so we stopped to have a cold drink in a little cafe with wonderfully shady awnings taking the opportunity to do some blister repairs at the same time. As we're sitting outside with our feet up a very fit looking pilgrim arrives, sits at the table next to us and gets a drink so-we smile at her and raise our glasses to a fellow Peregrina.
She scans us and asks curtly "so where are you from them?" before I have finished saying "Irelan..." she states in a dismissive manner "Ah started in Sarria then ALL the Irish start there". Before I can draw breath Frances comes in with " we started a tad further back than that actually in St Jean Pied de Port ...its in France"! Our presumptive pilgrim tries to compute this information with her preconceptions of 'the oirish' and the image before her of two dusty old ones and fails. But then she throws in "Yeah well I was going to do that but I didn't have the time so started in Pamplona.... and anyway its only 3 days difference". Frances takes off her shades 'fixes' on the woman and, with the 'gentle' smile normally reserved for 'the benighted or terminally bewildered', says "yes its only 3 days..... and the Pyrenees in snow....." then almost imperceptibly shakes her head, sighs, puts on her shades, settles into her chair, picks up her drink and takes a sip.
I don't know who is more gobsmacked the 'presumptive pilgrim' or me! Our new friend finishes her drink without a word. As she leaves I wish her "Bonne route" and really, really try to mean it......however this induces so much suppressed snorty giggling in the pair of us that I inhale the rest of my drink and nearly choke (which ain't fair as in this instance I was just a support act). When I ask Frances what came over her she replies " I don't know she just got up my nose" and we're off again laughing like eijits......On the basis of today we are now a pair of 'Camino bitches'- I don't think Pilgrim Pride is a quality that Santiago values somehow.
Quite a bit of 'up and downing' for the next couple of kms glad to arrive into Ribadeso a shady river valley and stay there rather than pushing on to Arzua, though it does mean starting the day with a climb tomorrow.

Igrexa Santiago at Boente. Nell with the priest who gave us a (much needed) blessing.

Portomarin to Palas De Rei

2009-11-07T15:27:00.001-08:00

Up early, we can see other pilgrims getting ready but we seem to be the first 'out of the traps' however leaving town we meet an older American couple who are glad of our head torches as we descend those steps-steeper than inca temples -I don't want to be an early morning sacrifice to Santa Marie de las Nieves so take it pretty slowly.

Its dark as we cross the narrow footbridge and climb up through the woods but then we get the reward of seeing dawn break over the landscape behind us. It reminds me of two things:-Yeats line "as ignorant and wanton as the dawn" and I know I'll be struggling to remember the rest of that poem all day, and the 2nd thing is the commitment I'd made in SJPP to try to 'look back' at the place I was leaving-and I have remembered to 'review' places as I leave (partly as a result for our need for cunningly designed 'pauses for a breather disguised as pauses to take in panorama' ruse)

The slugs and snails all seem to be heading north east this morning and I do mean 'all'- they cross our path by the hundreds. It makes Frances and I wonder what they know that we don't like the animals all heading up country well before a tsunami strikes?

The American couple have a few walking pals, a Scot and an English girl, and we share a coffee and a chat. Mr American has the oldest rucksack I have seen, he did the CF a decade ago but this time he started from Leon and he brought his wife along. That made me think of Stephen walking with me and that made me smile a lot. If we ever did something like that it would be 'together but apart' during the day and then in the evenings we could meet up and share and contrast our days experiences. However the thought of him cooking up a delicious meal with all the trimmings for a table full of hungry pilgrims, like a sort of out of season Santa Claus, is something I'd like to see.

As Frances and I go through our 'preparing to leave ritual' which we have got down to a fine art-this involves one of us checking the others pack,water etc as the one being 'checked' stands obediently and turns on command like a well trained donkey and then repeating with roles reversed-I notice we are being keenly observed by an older pilgrim I haven't seen before-she catches my eye and smiles and calmly goes on watching our preparations.
The path runs parallel to the road for a fair distance but it's screened by a hedge for sections and that helps a good bit. But then its minor roads and tracks-some lovely walking
This De luxe fully sprung dry stone wall with an integrated cooling system and climate control (shade from tree) proved a perfect place for a siesta. Lots of the 'newbies' walking by gave us very strange looks indeed....... they'll learn to get those feet up every 2 hours.

In Palais de Rei We met up with Vis and Viana again the Dutch 'Galloping Grannies'. These gals know how to party and usually get back to the albergue the latest, sleep in the longest and are usually the first to arrive most days....grrrrr but they are great craic.

Galloping Grannies

Also met up with the Swedish church group who started in Samos. We only found out this evening that the very elegant blond lady is the groups pastor! They told us that we were the subject of their group discussion yesterday and that we are their 'Camino Heros'. Well my mother would have been happy, at last I'm the positive subject of church group.

Someone asked "why them?" (which was a little rude..... though in fairness I had been wondering the same thing)

So just in case you want to know the criteria to become a subject for discussion for Swedish Lutheran church groups in the future its because:- we told them yesterday that it hasn't really got easier for us but that we've just got more used to 'stopping the bitching and getting on with it'; that no matter how long or short the distance the last 4 km of the day always kills us; that we haven't had a 'Camino crisis' but that we felt OK about that; that one of our strongest memories would be of laughing every day -from suppressed giggles to raucous guffaws and, best of all, wheezy exhausted giggles; that (God forgive us) Santiago be damned we were as excited as a pair of16 year old schoolgirls at the thought of meeting our husbands (of decades) in a few days time and that was what kept us going; after 800km and five weeks we had the less than shattering realisation that, if given the time and opportunity to appreciate them, everyone turns out to be pretty much OK, even the bloody cyclists! and finally we had 'fessed up' that we were so deeply envious of their 'pretties' last night (nice blouses and silky skirts) that we had seriously thought about stealing them-the only thing that stopped us (me) was Frances' astute observation that they are svelte Swedish giants and we .....well aren't.

Perambulating Pastors

The Albergue Buen Camio is lovely and serves gin and tonics in bucket sized glasses, which is very thoughtful of them. We sat soaking up the sun, sipping G & T's, writing up the journal and catching up with pilgrim friends.

We have a lovely relaxed evening with Anne Matte who we first in Villafranca through Jozephine and Helle another Danish Pilgrim. Its so odd we have been walking pretty much in synch with Helle, in terms of dates and locations etc, and we know people in common but we only caught a glimpse of her for the first time a day or so ago and never met each other before today-that happens quite a bit so many 'parallel pilgrim universes'!

Anne Matte, Helle and Nell outside Albergue Buen Camino Palas De Rei

Sarria to Portomarin

2009-11-07T08:17:00.000-08:00

I've said it before and I'll say it again the early start is the only way to go in warm weather. We have breakfast and are out walking well before 7am. The wonderful (cool) early morning mist actually stays with us until about 10.30 and so the walk up is far less taxing than Mr B's description.
Walking along one section of sunken track come across a badly wounded snake-looks as if its been run over by a bike-so I put the poor creature out of its misery (I can't stand to see something suffering like that and have a simple country solution to put a stop to it suffering- so be warned don't ever break a leg anywhere near me) Anyway I'm 'whacking away' at the snake with a stick when a young German couple come into view-they think I am having some sort of phobic attack and he says 'but it would run away if you let it!" . We explain the circumstances and then, in case the carcass would offend other pilgrims, I pick it up and 'attempt' to throw it over the ditch. Well its the 'girliest' throw I've ever done in my life so now the snakes limp body dangles off a branch about 12 foot above the very center of the path-like some grisely totem. We beetle off before being arrested for sacrilege or by the animal rights people.

I wasn't expecting that the countryside here would be so utterly and bounteously beautiful-wild Lupins, St Duboc's heath, Camisas, Oak trees and lots of birds. On one of the stone walls we walked past an enormous lizard, about a foot long, sat soaking up the sun. He (well it looked like a him) had a very fat head and was a perfect colour match for my jolly green giant poncho-somehow this made him a bit less intimidating. We stared gravely at each other for a good 5 minutes, perhaps wondering who was accessorising who?

Naive Christ in 'Orans' pose on tympanum El Salvador Sarria and creepy crawly wrough iron work hinges that look as if they might crawl off the door at any moment.

This Cruceiro looked more like an Aztec glyph than a medieval carving

Atmospheric misty morning woods

Horreos familiar outlines in the mist-Essence of Galicia.

There is so much water everywhere. We cross over streams and rivers on a variety of little bridges, stepping stones (sometimes these run up the middle of a stream taking advantage of the watercourse) and on raised paths like this one running alongside the stream.

Sun begins to burn off the cooling morning mist

Its so green and misty that you could be in Kerry.... and then you see the olive trees...

This little fella was doing a roaring trade selling in broken toys, little conchas and cups of water to passing pilgrims. When asked the price he said 'Donativo'- sweet and smart!

The buildings are massive square structures with slate roofs and small windows. They must be cool in summer but very dark in the winter time. I'd love to get a look at the internal layout of one.

We stop off for a siesta on a great wide stone wall, if it were a bed it would be a king size. Its a perfect spot in the shade with a warm breeze blowing up from the valley and the gentle tramp of pilgrims walking past lulling you off to zzzzzzzZZZZZZleep.

Suitably refreshed we make light work of the rest of the stage and are swinging down to the bridge over the Belesar reservoir by one o'clock. Good God I reckon with the breaks we've had the only way this can have happened is by us covering ground at a record breaking SIX KM PER HOUR!!! Jesus christ we've been 'yomping along'(well these things are relative compared to our usual 4km per hour it was yomping) I am mad as, because I didn't even realise it was happening, I couldn't take pleasure in enjoying the only chance I will ever have of coming close to being a proper 'Pilgrim Sportif'.

The flight of steps up to Santa Maria de las Nieves are incredibly steep but Frances smells a shortcut and will brook no resistance. I feel like a Inca sacrificial victim laboring up the bloody things. But its worth it as we seem to be some of the first pilgrims in town and have the luxury of stopping off for a cold drink before bunking down. Anne Matte strolls into town and we all have an ice cream. There is a definite 'holiday' vibe about the three of us and, even in repose, we seem to have big grins plastered to our faces- its as if someone has given us happy tablets or the coke was spiked whatever it is I want more.

Have dinner with Viz and Viana from Holland who are 'allowed to eat pizza today' as they walked in record breaking time.Vis has a little gizmo on her hip that counts the additional calories she's earned on each days walk. They are the fittest grannies in the world and this is a holiday for them time out from running marathons (oh yes gals like I so know that feeling!)..... but in fact they are great craic and stay up having a night on the town when the rest of us are tucked up fast asleep-game lasses. They also talk all the time to each other- often passing us on steep climbs chattering away while the rest of us were sucking up oxygen like beached fish. Their packs are the tiniest I have ever seen and not even full of stuff-I tell myself there are learnings to be made here pilgrim.

So its simple I just have to morph into a whippet thin, running marathons in my spare time, calorie earning kind of athlete for this Camino stuff to be easy then?

Triacastela to Sarria

2009-11-07T07:54:00.000-08:00

The photos of the stage from Triacastela to Samos were 100% lost-a casualty of the 'corrupted chip' which is a real pity as the walking was gorgeous and well worth the extra 6km and the weather great.

The pull out of Triacastela along the road can be alleviated by cutting across the river a bit earlier than signed and we came across a little woodland path that joined up with the main Camino as it swung off the main road. We talk of Lydia, the Irish pilgrim we met and shared a meal with last night, and her funny painful Camino. Hope that she has a better time now she's down from "those hills" that gave her such grief.

We seemed to have the trail to ourselves and meet no other pilgrims until Samos-What a lovely riverside walk-shady broad leaf woods, dappled sunlight, river meadows with scatterings of flowers and birdsong.
Had breakfast in Samos with Anne Matte but couldn't face the rigors of a full scale Spanish tour of the monastic complex and the grand building seemed a long way from Samos' 10th century foundation. Unlike Yuso there was no Suso to provide counter balance and a reminder of the earlier essence of the place. I think we got the best view of Samos from the hill above. We had sunlight, shade and the sounds of birds and running water all the way.

Headed out of Samos by the river and I saw a bizarre image-it looked like a cat with a Salvador Dali moustache but then the ends of the moustache started wriggling and I realised that it was a black cat with a black snake in its mouth! The surrealist snake eating cat of Samos is something I'll never forget.

We cut left up a loooong hill it was a hot slog in the sun but we just kept on going and didn't stop till we reached the very top. I'll never forget us grinning at each other like fools saying 'we are two tough old wagons' and laughing out loud.

Passed a tiny little chapel with kneelers for 10 or 12 people and an altar cloth and flowers- all ready for a mass that probably happens once a year. When Frances had the first swig of water that we had refilled from a spring she said "sweet" both laughed- as she sounded like a teenager and an american teenager at that!

The 'king blister' is now layered like an agate- kind of pretty, or alternatively like an open cast mine-not so pretty. But we are OK with the 27km today-even in the sun, and if I had to turn around and walk back to SJPP I reckon I could do it-just.

Meet up with a group of Swedish pilgrims who got dropped by bus at Samos and are staying in Sarria tonight. They are a nice lot and we stop and have a cold drink with them at Aguiada. Boy are we glad of the rest and fluid as the roadside walk into Sarria saps us a little.

Bump into Anne Matte again who is trying to find her hostal and Helle, she uses our map to find the hostal but we can't help out with Helle.

Amazingly we are able to watch the Leinster V Munster match on TV and I take a metaphorical whipping as Frances, a Leinster fan, revels in their triumph she even has a phone conversation with her mum dissecting their win-cruel.

Head up, and I do mean up, town-its a steep climb and we are both thinking "Oh lord this is what we face at 6.30 tomorrow morning!" Stop off at the Pilgrim shop and I have to laugh at myself for feeling vaguely 'superior' to the new pilgrims buying all the gear-just like I did in SJPP-my how the worm turns!

Catch the end of a christening service at Santa Marina and get our credential stamped there as the sello is self service. Then sit opposite the Concello sipping beer and pilgrim/people watching in the sun. And nearly everyone seems to be a pilgrim here-but all clean and shiny and excited- the truth is I'm a little envious of their novicedom. Its strange but this evening, unlike any previous occasions when we heard Irish accents and we sought to make a connection if we could, in Sarria we don't in fact we drop our voices so 'they' won't hear us and avoid eye contact with an Irish group a few tables down. I'm puzzled I really don't know why this is-maybe because we're tired?

I suggest to Frances that if they ask us 'So whats it like then?' that I'll jump up and shout " you want the truth? you can't handle the truth!" in a crazed 'Jack Nicolson as pilgrim' kind of way. We collapse in wheezy chuckles and then I get it. We are cherishing our last few days and being selfish with our 'time out' time- as we only have 4 full days left so its more precious somehow. We are being mean old time misers, and I think of the generous souls in SJPP and elsewhere at the start who had walked from Le Puy and other far away places who we pestered with questions and got such gracious answers! Do as you would be done by Nell.

O'Cebreiro to Tricastela

2009-11-07T06:59:00.000-08:00

My goodness what a difference a few hours make -we wake up to a clear dawn and I ramble out to catch the views we missed yesterday. And they are certainly well worth both the wait and the long slog of yesterday.

A sunlit Santa Maria Real-O'Cebreiro its been welcoming pilgrims for over 1100 years

Heading out we spot 'Mr Trolley' getting ready to hit the road again-he's a very quiet nice Italian gentleman who has walked all the way from Rome, much of it on asphalt roads as his trolley isn't suitable for many sections of the off road track-which is probably why we missed him yesterday.

Knowing that having reached O'Cebreiro we have now 'done' the last really hard bit of our journey puts a spring in our step and a smile on our faces. The contrast, in both our mood and the weather, between today and yesterday couldn't be greater.

'Mr Trolley' getting ready to hit the road -O'Cebreiro

Our impression of village from last night, when it was muffled in fog, is so different from its actual dimension and shape that we get disorientated-we can find our way around in fog no problem.

O'Cebreiro

An Ice cloud drifts over the village as we leave and it coats buildings, leaves and branches, and, if we weren't moving, us with a layer of frost and ice. Serving up a reminder of just how extreme the climate here can be, and how it can change in an instant.

Ice cloud-O'Cebreiro

Ice cloud and sunshine-O'Cebreiro- An iron fist in a velvet glove

A few minutes before this bush had been ice free

So it is true "Your strenuous efforts will be more than amply rewarded by the view afforded"......eventually.

The bar in Linares is shut, so we have to resort to the churchyard of San Estaban for a a quick 'natural' break. This proves to be 'una casi con una vista' with wonderful views down the valley (of course we carry tissue away with us.)

Get breakfast at Hospital de la Condesa in a lively little bar with great toast. Then, with the exception of the 'climbettes' up to Alto de San Roque and Alto do Poio, its back to strolling along gently downwards-Pilgrim bliss.

Pilgrim monument and pilgrim Nell at Alto de San Roque- Galicia laid out before us.

More 'fierce' dogs of the Camino- be afraid be very afraid if you don't look out they could lick you to death-that's if they bother to either wake up or stop playing with the other puppies!

The patterns made by the slate on the roof of all the buildings are fantastic. This church didn't have a ridge tile but the top row of tiles on one side of the roof was toothed together with that of the other side-so it looked like a friendly dragons back.

Slate patterns-Capilla de San Pedro

Morning glory-Galicia

Blister aid-its Boots off time and any 'running repairs' every 2 hours

Enjoying our second breakfast which comes with beer-all before 11 o'clock in the morning!

Frances and I loved the curvy planks used for the wall of this little shed-especially the one with twigs coming out of it-shag pile carpentry now theres a thing.

Heading down to Triacastela in the spring sunshine is a walk into paradise.The stonewalled lanes, they are called corredoiras and I can see why, are deep and dappled with light shade from oaks and chestnuts just coming into leaf.The ground underfoot is squelchy but not sticky and though the path common to both pilgrims and cattle there aren't too many flies either.

Field of wild garlic with a castellated dovecote-coming down to Paradise- Triacastela

Ancient chestnut tree-Ramil

Arriving into Triacastela we keep an eye out for the local church as Jozefine had heard that the mass there was 'good' (now that sounds odd even to me) Manage to get a funny little room. Instead of windows it has a glass 'ventilated door' however the door opens onto a sunny little yard which we bedeck with laundry in record time and step out to do the tour. Strolling up and down the sunny street nodding to pilgrims we know from way back, or have just seen for the first time today is fun and has the feel of an Italian passeggiata. Such a contrast with our arrival at O'Cebreiro yesterday.

Head to mass and the small church is charming with a shell motif on the door and a lovely statue of Santiago. The congregation arrives in dribs and drabs some having cleaned up others having just 'stepped off the road'. The priest waits at the top of the church looking out of the door- he signals to us that he's waiting for a peregrina who is just finishing a mobile phone conversation with her boyfriend and, sure enough when we listen, we can hear her giggling and flirting. When the lassie comes in he says to her -"he doesn't have long to wait you know you are nearly there!"

We all laugh but the tables are turned when he proceeds to herd each of us up from our comfort zone in the main body of the church up onto the altar and then to sit down for the service. One Italian man keeps standing up and Fr Augusto asks him "tell me are you tired?" "yes" says the pilgrim "are your feet or legs sore?" "yes" says the pilgrim "well God and Santiago would rather you sit, be tranquil and think of them than stand and think of your feet OK?" "yes" says the pilgrim with a big smile.

Fr Augusto Losada Lopez isn't your regular country parish priest and nor is the service he conducts. As he is saying the words of the consecration each of us goes to the altar breaks off piece of thick crusty country bread as our host and we share, not just a polite little sip, but a hearty warming swallow of communion wine. As 'penance' for any sins he instructs us to be kind to ourselves and to be joyous in our lives.

The service is sunlit, inclusive, thought provoking and joyful. Fr Augustos' final words of the mass are "remember God doesn't count your steps or Santiago weigh your pack- what they measure is you heart pilgrim, so look to your heart ....and take care of your feet!".

Evening sunlight streaming into Iglesia de Santiago-Triacastela just before the pilgrims mass.

The 'concelebrants' pilgrims from Austria, France, Ireland, Italy, Spain, Holland & Germany

We have brought our credencials-in fact we keep them with us pretty much all the time-and Fr Augusto stamps them for us in the church. But a rather overwrought German pilgrim has a bit of a hissy fit-her credencial is back in the albergue and she doesn't think she has time to get it before the 'church shuts'. Fr Lopez says oh don't worry picks up the sello and pretends he's going to stamp her forehead with it 'to prove shes been here'! Though of course he waits a good 20 minutes for her to come back with her credencial and stamps it, and we all chatted and laughed in the sunshine as we awaited her return.

Met up with Lydia at the mass, she is an Irish pilgrim traveling solo who has had a pretty hard time of it with illness 'up in those mountains'. Lydia is very devout and the service has really lifted her spirits. She joins us for dinner- its nice to talk with someone from 'home' and listening to her difficult Camino experiences we both feel a bit erzatz 'pilgrim wise'.

Frances suggests that, as Lydia is still so weak, she might consider a 'rest day' tomorrow and refers to the priests injunction to be kind to ourselves. Lydia thinks she might well do that and I hope she does. It would be a pity to get really ill so close to her goal.

Nell having a laugh with Father Augusto after the Pilgrims mass Triacastela.

Villafranca del Bierzo to O'Cebreiro

2009-11-07T06:31:00.000-08:00

Rain absolutely bucketing down and bitter cold so the 'choice' of route is made simple-its Ruta Carratera for us as its shorter and passes more villages (I am going to have come back and do the complete Route Napoleon and now I'm adding in the Camino Dragonte route to that 'to do' list).

Even in the early morning there's quite a bit of traffic and thought the path breaks away from the road in parts you are pretty close for a good bit. Its raining cats and dogs so in a vain attempt to drown out the sound of huge raindrops hitting my poncho I try singing the lyric of "We're walking in the rain" to the tunes of 'The Snowman' and then 'Singing in the rain'-but neither version cheers me up as we slog along the valley.

Its great to turn in off the road towards Herrerias and from this point on to no worries about traffic. Its quiet the only sound is dripping leaves, rushing streamlets and soft munch of cattle chewing rain drenched grass. We are the only pilgrims in town and stop in for a cafe con leche, Frances is ashen faced and not too well but settles a bit with some toast and hot chocolate. Two gun totting but very friendly policemen drop in for what is a obviously a regular break. One of them has brought out 'the messages' from town some wrapped cold meats, a block of cheese and a big bottle of what looks like syrup?

Sitting down quietly getting up the energy for the next 'push' the door swings open and two Americans/Canadians in pristine gear and dry boots come in, sit down 'scope' the joint and everything in it. The guy looks us up an down in our filthy over trousers, damp fleeces, dripping ponchos and sodden gloves and says to his partner "I think they're expecting rain" I know this sounds funny now but it didn't then-it sounded smart arsed. If I could have relied on my legs and stood up I would have given him a good 'puck in the snot'-Good grief and I thought I would become a better pilgrim the closer I get to Santiago. Before I 'do damage' we head out and are pretty soon on back on track-literally and metaphorically.

Even with the atrocious weather and visibility dropping to 0 we get a strange low glowing light coming through the mist/sleet that illuminates the (very) immediate environment (reminds me of the pearly light that comes in through alabaster windows) it shows up blooming primroses (I sneak one flower to taste the nectar at the base of the trumpet- it's doubly sweet as it brings back childhood memories of what my father used to describe as 'bee cheating') and lichen decking the trees like blossom.The slugs of this valley are a sophisticated lot instead of chewing up the primroses they stick their heads into the blossom and go for the nectar, as they move from one blossom to the next it reminds me of a very regal slow motion pub crawl and is quite something to see.

There is good bit of up and downing and 6 weeks ago we would have given up on a walk like this but, tired as we are, we have learned that we can get there-the trick is to keep on trying. The landscape is beautiful we know this only because when the mist/fog/sleet lifts for a few seconds we are taunted with wonderful micro vistas -but then as quickly as it lifted the weather closes in again and we're back to our usual 'Helen Keller does the Camino' outlook

This little cow in Herrerias would win 'Best dressed lady /or Drag queen'- I couldn't get a gender definitive view-with perfect eyeliner, mascara, pedicured hooves and oiled horns all perfectly accessorised by a shiny bell.

Stopping off for a rest at La Faba and meeting another 'fierce camino dog'

Its tricky getting you boots off for foot breaks in weather like this as even under the trees its dripping. We get a bit of a break in the weather i.e. it changes from torrential to downpour and as we lean against a farmyard wall chomping chocolate a bull and heifer are discretely led out of a barn and around the back of the farm buildings. However the notion of a bit of privacy for the lovers goes to hell in a handcart due to the acoustics of stone yards, low cloud and the narrow valley. Which means we, and anyone else within a 5 mile radius, experience ear splitting bovine 'lurve songs' with 'SurroundSound' quality and all the full on detail of something off the Discovery channel. We would move only I find I can't breath, laugh, choke on chocolate, retie my boots, get my pack back on and the damn poncho over the pack all at the same time.

Frances at the regional marker-Goodbye Castilla Y Leon hello Galicia!

Walking up we only meet 4 other pilgrims two walking and two (god help them) on bikes-pushing up through the freezing mud in their hard slippery cycling shoes. Its head down and push on as you can't keep your eyes open in the icy sleet and my glasses have come off long ago as they fog up in a second. Once out of the wooded lower valley the wind is... boisterous, bitter cold and it doesn't lift the fog/sleet just seems to push more of it in our faces. The up side of this is that after such natural a 'dermabrasion' session we may look 5 years younger on arrival.

I am plodding along muttering some of my walking rhymes/mantras (its a bit strange but they seem to help me especially up hard steep muddy sections and I have developed a little repertoire since SJPP its all under the breath stuff so I don't disturb others) anyway a new one comes to mind "Every step a pilgrims hope every step a prayer-offered up to Jesus Christ-so I hope you're bloody there" (no disrespect intended but I was a bit of a GOP -grumpy old pilgrim-today)

Its hard going and going..... and going but sooner than we expected what seems to be a large 'estate wall' appears out of the mist on our right and then we reach a hard surface- we made it we have got to O'Cebreiro! It's similar to the pull up to Foncebadon not easy but not quite as hard as you imagine its going to be when thinking about it the night before (unscramble that if you can!).

I am arranged in a 'pose' by Frances to show off another of our Camino specialities -The 'white out' view- and a quote from one of the guide books I have read comes to mind but I can't quite place which one, its not Mr Brierely but someone said of ones arrival at O'Ceibreiro.....

"Your strenuous efforts will be more than amply rewarded by the stupendous views afforded"

Nell in 'Jolly Green Giant' poncho trying to decipher the 'stupendous' views mentioned above.

Entering into the peace and shelter of the church of Santa Maria Real is something I'll never forget and, for about 30 wonderful minutes, we are the only ones there- we light our candles and sit quietly reflecting on our journey-todays and all the other days. There is a strong feeling of 'arrival' a sense of collective peace and contentment. The little chapel has been welcoming innumerable pilgrims for over 1100 years. Then some boisterous walkers burst in laughing and chattering (they are not GOPs) and its time to head over to the bar for one or two hot ports before we get the accommodation sorted.

Coach loads of noisy tourists cram the bar and adjoining tourist shop but exhaustion has bestowed a zen like calm and tolerance on me and I rather enjoy their jolly racket.
An hour drifts by and suddenly we are shaken from our trance by a chorus of loud 'Holas' directed at us. Its 'Jack Sparrow' and his crew swaggering in and drawing respectful attention from one and all- they greet us like long lost favorite aunties which is actually very sweet!

Though we aren't exactly paid up members of the Pilgrim Sportif 'in' crowd, the fact that such hardcore yompers seem to 'rate' us bestows a certain 'street cred' so that other 'racing class pilgrims', those we have previously only ever seen the back of as they sped past us, are now nodding and raising their classes to us. Well who'd have thought it- the hares toasting the tortoises-so we tortoises "slainte" them back.

As the last of the coaches parties leave we peep outside the warm bar to find visibility has dropped to a couple of feet, its absolutely freezing and its very very quiet-that strange muffled silence of fog.

We had always planned to stay in the posher Hostal San Giraldo de Aurillac and are glad we do, its right next door to the church, lovely and clean, has a great bathroom and space to dry out our gear. There are only 3 other guests in the entire place so its very quiet. Our room is heated to sauna like levels and we lay on the beds being gently steamed for a hour or so before going across to the bar for dinner-this is wonderfully therapeutic and warms 'the bones of us'.

Our bedroom window looks out on to the road that brings pilgrims into the town and I can just about make out one or two figures making their way into the village at 7.30 - its a hard day to arrive so late.

At about 3am I wake up and realise why they 'stoke up the engines' of this place, even with 3 foot thick stone walls the cold seeps in brrr. Frances, having less natural insulation, feels the cold much more than I do so I usually give her my blanket, but I don't know if I could have 'shared' tonight and I'm really glad there are spare ones in the cupboard!

Molinaseca to Ponferada and Villafranca del Bierzo

2009-11-07T06:21:00.000-08:00

We set off early and, incredibly after yesterdays walk, I find I'm OK. Just outside Ponferrada in Campo, near the roman cistern, we come across a memorial to an Irish pilgrim Joseph Carty. God rest him but I wonder if the descent into Molinaseca had something to do with his demise.

Memorial to Joseph Carty and Irish pilgrim who died just outside Ponferrada

Arrive into Ponferrada and go into a cafe near the Castillo and find Jozefien is there ahead of us! She's feeling a little blue. On that basis we declare it an official 'girly day'. So we go window shopping, drink coffee, loiter, lunch and phone our husbands for proper chats. Its disgraceful unpilgimly behaviour and thoroughly enjoyable.
I didn't realise just how much I miss perfume until, each looking like the wreck of the Hesperus-roots showing, nails wrecked & eyebrows fulsome etc, we walk into a Farmacia to get yet more Compeed. I'm smelling the perfume samples longingly when the pharmacist, a stern but elegant older woman, sweeps her eagle eye over us, then marches off returning with one of those enormous display bottles of scent and instructs us with graceful hand gestures to 'twirl' in the middle of the pharmacy as she sprays us head to foot with perfume!
Oh it's gorgeous to smell so good again. This gracious lady also gives us little perfume samples telling us that they are "light light" and, having heard Frances had filled her journal and was looking for another one, runs after us (in high heels) and gives her a lovely little notebook that she'd found after we left her premises...all for free out of the goodness of her heart (by the way the perfume was Clarins 'Eau Ressourcante'/ 'Rebalanceing Fragrance" and that it did!).

Arrive into Villafranca del Bierzo find it's hemmed in by hills and full of tourists and pilgrims. The people here get a cardiovascular workout by just walking around the town-lots of ups and downs but very pretty even in the gray and overcast day.

Wrought iron balconies Villafranca

Frances is entranced with the place and takes loads of photos of the buildings

The town has wonderful examples of those glazed galleries and we wander up,down and around before dinner. We had told Jozefien about the effect of alabaster windows and as the Gothic church here good examples she heads of to go and have a look but I'm bushed and need a little rest.

This little house looked as if it was about to fall down but its inhabited and we can see the tv flickering.

Meet back up with Jozefien and she introduces us to Anne Matte, a Danish lassie who we've seen on and off for at least the last week or so but have not actually met before. Anne Matte left SJPP about 3 days ahead of us and she's such a tonic-so honest and funny with a wonderful outlook on life. We share desert and talk about 'the big one' tomorrow. Jozefien has decided that she really needs a rest day and Anne Matte that she'sjust going to walk up the valley as far as she feels 'comfortable with' and reckons that La Faba will be her max tomorrow. We are sorry we won't be walking along with them tomorrow but know they have to walk their own way as we do ours.

A jeep full of bags is parked outside the albergue its the same one we saw at Acebo belonging to the German/Austrian group who seem to on be a sort of package tour with the jeep carrying their bags and accompanying them throughout the day as support.

Its chilly and overcast and we are a little apprehensive as we stroll around.
Perhaps it was seeing the memorial to the Irish pilgrim who died but this evening it really hit me that we are coming closer to the 'end' of our physical journey and it makes me wonder about the big 'Camino crisis/experience' others have described. For me it's been more a matter of small daily epiphanies; friendship tested and found true, the unexpected generosity of strangers, the sweet honesty of Jozefien longing to see her husband, taking joy in little things and the grace of giving and receiving kindness -these precious little things, and others like them, are what define my journey so far.
Go to bed early as too give ourselves as much time as possible it's going to be an early start again tomorrow.

Moss and saxifrages 'caulking' slate roofs in Villafranca

Rabanal to Molinaseca

2009-11-07T05:57:00.000-08:00

Today we walked from Winter though Spring into Summer

On the way out of the village come across 'Jack Sparrow' and his crew they have pitched their tent inside one of those little picnic shelters for pilgrims. It must have been a tough night for them camping with the rain and sleet. They are a hardy bunch of youngsters who take pride in leaving last and arriving first. Even though 'Jack' carries the largest and heaviest pack we have ever seen they all yomp along at a rate of knots. After a couple of Km spot the bright red jacket of Jozefien behind us and we wait up for her.

Low light en route up to Foncebadon-Looking back towards Rananal

The mist turns to rain- the rain to sleet but we don't care because we see something we never actually thought we would-the sign for Foncebadon. In fact the walk up is grand and talking to Jozefien 'shortens the road'. I can't believe that we get there so fast and that I have exorcised another of my camino demons.

Nell hugging the sign for Foncebadon

Entry into Foncebadon

We celebrate with hot chocolates in the cosy little Cafe. Frances phones up her mother Alma as she is following our progress assiduously and has been to Foncebadon herself so she knows what significance it has for us. We tell her that "no there are no fierce dogs but plenty of very fierce weather".
Hearing Frances chat with her Mum brings to mind an old photograph of my mother. It was taken at the top of Helvellyn in the winter of 1948 or 1949 the day is sunny but there is deep snow. My mother's wearing a 'cadged' leather bomber jacket laughing in the sunshine with her friends-gosh how she would have loved make this journey-even as an 80 year old armchair pilgrim!

There's a young Korean boy in the cafe as who seems to be tagging along with an Italian man and a pretty American pilgrim-the girls hands are cold and the Korean lad gallantly gives her his gloves and uses a pair of socks for himself. The other young man, kitted out to the nines, hands ensconced in good gloves looks on 'approvingly'. Frances, Jozefien and I exchange glances ...... gosh are we three bad pilgrims!

On the way to the Cruz de Ferro the temperature plummets and, even with our good gear on, its bitterly cold.
There are sudden short downpours of rain but the ground was so cold the 'run offs' freeze almost immediately and then it's back to sleet and snow brrrr.

Frances and Nell at the Cruz de Ferro the highest point on the Camino. I left a stone I had picked up from the top of Djouce in Wicklow on one of my training walks

Cruz de Ferro (1,505m)

Jozefien and the courteous young korean at the top. He only had a thin poncho over his fleece and socks on his hands as he had given his gloves to an American girl. In these winds and temperatures ponchos really aren't enough. We have our coats on under ours and that's just about enough to keep warm and damp.

At the top we get a bit giddy as we did in the Pyranees

Heading down temperature improves and it feels like Kerry on a 'soft day'

In my poncho I look like a cross between the Incredible Hulk, Quasimodo and a large green umbrella but at least Frances can spot me in the mist/sleet/snow/rain/fog... in fact Stephen can probably spot me on Google earth! Jozefien sports an 'interesting' but effective combo of balaclava and a sunhat-'needs must when the devil drives'.

The Camino catwalk-"does my pack look big in this Jozefien?"

The trees are bedecked with soft pale green tresses of the most luxuriant lichens I have ever seen - a sign that the air up here must be pretty good.

Good lord it actually stopped sleeting/raining in fact it got spring like..... and we don't quite know how to cope with the prospect of good weather

Walk into Acebo and lunch and was never more welcome. The restaurant is stuffed with knackered but contented pilgrims - it's good to share that feeling of achievement.

Acebo

The three of us opt for the local speciality and all I can say is why somebody should go to such culinary lengths to make something that isn't steamed bull testicles resemble steamed bull testicles is quite beyond me. The accompanying chickpeas and hearty sausage are delicious. Jozefien, taking a practical dutch attitude of 'it's hot and we've paid for it' makes a brave attempt to eat 'the item' but we can tell her hearts not in it. At the end of the day we are all un(wo)manned by Acebos challenging 'bonne bouche'.

"Well I gave it my best shot girls"

Jozefien thought she may stay in Acebo or Riego de Ambros so Frances and I pressed on as we wanted to get down to Molinoseca.

This descent is so beautiful and now, having walked from Winter to Spring between Monjardin and Acebo, going down through Riego de Ambros to Molinaseca we walked from Spring into Summer. It seemed like paradise to us- the heather and pine of the higher ground replaced by rock roses, broom and lavender and in the church yard at Riego Crocosmia and Iris were in full bloom

Church yard Riego de Ambros

I climbed up to the open air belfry to meet two local belles with a reputation for having wicked tongues and of spreading their tales far and wide. I introduced myself to-Maria and Maria Magdelena-they have their names and birthdays inscribed around their rims.

This is Maria Magdelena Riego de Ambros

Pennyroyal growing on the church yard wall Riego de Ambros

Rock roses, broom and lavender

Having 'conquered' Foncebadon and the Cruz de Ferro we were feeling just a little bit cocky. But that was soon knocked out of us by the, visually stunning, but ankle wrenching,knee jarring, blister bursting drop into Molinaseca. The descents into Cee (Santiago to Fisterra route) or down to Zubiri are a cakewalk compared to this-sweet Jesus I signed up for pilgrimage not bloody martyrdom and if (its a big if) I can walk tomorrow it will only be by an act of God.

Decent to Molinaseca-visually and physically stunning

I do remember sitting down in the chair waiting for the shower.... after that ....nothing until I was woken a few hours later by Frances to discover that my legs had 'locked'. Locomotion is made possible by rocking from side to side and swinging my legs out at the hip . However small children, dogs and older people were at serious risk if anywhere near this manoeuvre. Great now I have 'the moves' to go with my 'Frankenstein' boots. Frances,being a good(ish) pilgrim, tries to suppress her giggles at my 'progress' and I get cross and then of course I start laughing to which doesn't help my balance at all-we end up looking like a pair of drunks and not a drop has passed my lips....yet!

Facing 30km tomorrow so we need food, drink (for medicinal purpose in large quantities) sleep....oh and a not inconsiderable amount of divine intervention.

Getting 'locked' in Molinaseca

Astorga to Rabanal

2009-11-07T04:04:00.000-08:00

Set off very early and the kind night porter in the Hotel Gaudi averts disaster by running up the street waving the passport Frances had forgotten! Its unspoken but we are both feeling the same slightly shaky feeling en route to Rananal as we had in SJPP before heading up the hills.

Stop off for breakfast in a lovely laid back little hostal to the right of the track- it has a sunny courtyard, a friendly lady serving breakfast and great toast and juice-and magically we feel more confident. Then its a slightly surreal walk along a strange boggy landscape until we cross over the road and start the climb up. The sky is glowering but we see, pass and are passed by more pilgrims today than we have seen for ages. The feeling of being part of a larger group, and that no matter what happens someone will be behind you settles the butterflies in my stomach-a little.

Hoping 'conditions improve' on the way to Rananal

Stop at the 'Cowboy bar' and I immediately feel at home this local enterprise seems deeply 'kerry' to me, I expect to see a Fianna Fail election poster in the loo.

Now the lassies running it are very busy so they don't really have the time to:- take money, slice ham (and do a bit of quality checking by tasting a bit), cut cake, pat the dog, engage in conversation with a)the little girl that comes in for a chat b) the postman c) a delivery man who is also possibly a relative d)Pilgrims asking questions in bad Spanish....... at the same time as putting on and off those thin rubber catering gloves. So instead they just leave the gloves on and multitask. A Teutonic 'Pilgrim Sportif' nearly choked on his bocadillo when he came into the 'kitchen' to settle his bill. His jaw literally dropped and he started to cough. I whispered to Frances "Hows your Heimlich manoeuvre then?" and the two of us had to hold back the giggles. He spotted us and gave a wry smile, shrugged his shoulders and started to laugh as well- so he proved to be good sport(if) at the end of the day!

One of the overriding memories of our journey will be of laughing-all kinds of laughter- belly laughs, irrepressible giggles, explosive piggy snorts (my speciality) and wheezy exhausted chuckles.

We meet up with Jozefien, a Dutch pilgrim walking on her own. She has been ill and had to stay on longer in Carrion de los Condes (as a ill solo pilgrim in need she found the Madres Clarisas of Santa Clara to be less than warm and that fits in with what we've heard of others experience of that Albergue this spring). Despite the fact that we are all bundled up I recognise Jozefien as the lady from the hotel restaurant last night and we wonder where else along the route we could have 'leapfrogged' each other.

It turns out that we all share an interest in plants so when we spotted some beautiful little bronzey yellow Narcissi on the side of the path we all dropped to our knees for a closer look and, in Frances and Jozefiens case, to get close up shots. God knows what it looked like to passing pilgrims-3 middle aged woman, rears up in the air, prostrate before a miniature Narcissi making "oohhing" noises-maybe they thought we were Pantheists

Minature narcissi on the way up to Rananal

The snow/ice needles sting our faces and we envy Jozefien in her balaclava-I'm seriously thinking of trying to rig up something similar with a pair of knickers but Frances says "Nell if you're going to die- die with some dignity"- she has a point so I carry on with 'dignity' and a face as red as a slapped bum.

Jozefien and Nell on the way up to Rabanal

The old oak tree just before Rananal

Rabanal

Albergue Guacelmo is lovely just as everyone said it would be and I bet the garden is wonderful place to unwind in later spring and summer.

We have made good time so wander around the village for quite a bit, its beautiful place but the afternoon is cold and gray. I wanted to attend vespers but it seems the monks were on a day off. Have an odd image of a coach load of monks setting off from the middle of this tiny village on a day trip .

Walking 'up the town' Frances spots a wallet on the ground and we spent a good bit of time sourcing where the pilgrim was last seen (note to self photo id is so useful) of course it was the last bar we went into that recognised the photo id. They had heard this pilgrim talking about walking on to Manjardin so the girl in the bar jumped into her jeep, raced up the road, cut them off and then returned their wallet. The thought of loosing all your important stuff is horrid so we are really glad of the happy ending. Maybe the Camino gods will reward our good deed with sunshine?

Later that evening I break the Guinness world record for the number of times a backpack can be packed/repacked by one person-this frenzied displacement activity is a sure sign I'm worried. I'm apprehensive about the walk up to Foncebadon and the Cruz de Ferro- but try to keep positive and imagine its going to like my fears about the Meseta- unfounded. Heavy rain and lighting-maybe we should have kept the wallet (only joking Frances).

I maligned Frances with my notions of her late night macaroon scoffing last night in fact she has 'saved' two of them. Incredibly, they have become even more delicious and have got 'stickier,chewier and more flavoursome' in the last 24 hours. Like naughty little kids we nibble them after tooth brushing and lights out.

Leon to Astorga

2009-11-06T20:25:00.001-08:00

I'm really sorry to be leaving Leon its a wonderful lively city and one I hope to return to again. - It's a long pull from Leon to Hospital de Obrigo Advice if you're pushed for time take the bus to HdeO!

As soon as we turn off into Hospital del Obrigo we like it, feeling bouyed up Frances poses for comic shots on the bridge defended by the knight who became the inspiration for Don Quioxte. Have lunch and get bocadillos for later because the weather is great and we decide, full of braggadocio, to 'push on' to Astorga......we may regret that decision.

Frances being 'quixotic'-posing as as Sancho Panza (or maybe the donkey)

Well if you're going to defend a bridge against all comers you may as well pick a good one.

Its a nice walk up the hill beyond Hospital and though all the German pilgrims we met earlier have continued on the road I don't know why anyone would choose to go that way when this alternative is available unless they were aiming to stay beyond Astorga.
The countryside is pleasant with a timeless feel to it-just tracks through low growing woodland and very few buildings. We pass a sandbank full of nesting birds flying in and out all the time- I don't recognise the birds though-if only books weren't so heavy it would be great to have access to guide book for instances like this. I'm good on the flora and can generally get at least the family right.

Sandback full of nesting birds between Hospital D Obrigo and Astorga

A young lad walking on his own passes us and we notice he's wearing a 'vote for obama' wristband and we end up doing the 'pilgrim gavotte' with the young man-overtaking him when he stops for a break and then being overtaken by him when we have a 'boots off' break.
On one of these overtakes he asks, us very politely in spanish, if we can take a photo.

Frances steps in as 'official photographer and he is delighted we speak english. Bill is American of about 19 and wants a picture for his "mom"- my goodness he pressed all the right buttons. He asks us "which is better with or without sunglasses?" and we both chorus in perfect time "without the glasses and the hat-she'll want to see your face". So the poor fellow finds himself being bossed around by two old ones who know exactly what shots his mom will like to see- 'My son Bill looking forward towards the towers of Astorga on his last day', 'My son Bill on the base of Cruceiro Santo Toribio','My son Bill in profile' etc etc etc! To his credit Bill takes all this in good spirits. I have a feeling this is not the first time he's has had to deal with middle aged ladies 'managing' him.

So Bills mom if you ever wonder why not only were the most photos of your son on his Camino taken on his last days walk into to Astorga but also the best- its down to Frances (and me doing the assistant photographer stuff) When he headed off Frances said "didn't she do a good job (meaning Bills Mom) he's a lovely kid" and indeed he was.

We have met and observed lots of young men aged between 15 -22 or 23 traveling solo or in small groups on our journey, and have found them, without exception, to be impressive engaging, interested and courteous youngsters. Perhaps the Camino allows boys the space to be/become the fine young men they are at heart without peer pressure to be 'laddish'? Think I'll try to get as many of my lot as possible to consider the Camino as an option in their summer vacs, gap years or holidays.....though my 'suggesting it' would probably the kiss of death for the notion so perhaps not.

We can see the towers of Astorga Cathedral from the cruceiro- reminiscent of the view of Burgos you get from the Punto De Vista on the hills before you descend and 'airport hell' kicks in....... and maybe that should have been a warning to us-it seemed so close. But for some reason the last stretch to Astorga, along the road and on the track which runs behind some kind of abandoned industrial buildings, kills us both. We stagger over a railway crossing and, when faced by a 'scenic pilgrim route' around and up through the town, damn near collapse. We must appear like a pair of stunned chickens just standing on the path staring straight ahead.

Then out of the blue Frances revolts-so we end up sacrilegiously ignoring the yellow signs and she trail blazes a shortcut to the heart of the town-Thank God. This incident gives me a strange 'breaking the rules' kind of thrill and I almost want to start walking East, South, North in fact anywhere but westwards-is this the sign of pilgrim 'burn out'?

Despite a less than auspicious intro to the town I love Astorga. It has a quiet, provincial market town 'getting along with its own business' feel- reminiscent of Mallow or Althone.

We are both Gaudi fans and so there is only one place to stay-the Hotel Gaudi with a bedroom view of the Bishops palace (which is good as the palace is its closed so we only get to see the outside) The palaces lovely pale green stained glass windows are colour as that in the windows of Leon cathedral.

Someone writing about this Gaudi building said it blocked the view of the Cathedral but I don't agree, I think it complements the older building-which is also pretty glorious especially when the sun makes it look like a spun sugar confection outlined against a stormy eastern sky.

Cathedral St Maria Astorga

We head to the Plaza Major and sit waiting for the famous clock with its Maragato figures to strike-now while this may not sound thrilling its just about right for our energy levels and we are so enthralled we sit in the evening sun and wait for it to happen all over again.

Anyway there is a lot to see in between strikes-kids on bikes, scooters and roller skates whizz around the square as the grown ups natter. Off to one side, under the arcade, a whole gaggle of little kids are so engrossed in the stories being read to them by a vivacious storyteller they are oblivious of the admiring audience of grannies and parents

Story telling in Astorga Plaza Major

Excitement in Astorga watching the clocks strike- its fun and you can do it sitting down!

We wander around and end up eating at a bar on Plaza major. Frances is not as enamored with the town as I am until she discovers the nature of the Astorgas primary exports- small square cakes, chocolate and the piece de resistance the best macaroons in the world.This decision was not made lightly and required an awful lot of qualitative testing but we are absolutely certain that they are the best.

I learn another new thing about my friend of 32 years not only does she have an ambition to drive a formula one racing car, has a now overt fascination with bullfighting she is also a macaroon junkie! Frances buys 'a few' macaroons for tomorrow. She says there's 4 in the bag but it has a more than 4 fulsomeness about it and I suspect that some macaroon hoarding is going on.

We eat in the hotel and its hushed atmosphere, white tablecloth and waiter service is lovely. There are quite a few pilgrims here and we see Bill has joined some of his walking buddies for a posh last supper in the hotel. One of the group, an woman our age, seems familiar but I'm not sure from where.

Later that night I'm sure I hear paper rustlings and crunching noises but when I turn over Frances appears to be fast asleep but I'll bet all the tea in china that if I check there will be macaroon crumbs in her bed in the morning.

Sahagun to Leon

2009-11-06T20:18:00.001-08:00

Leon is a bustling lively city as we walk in we pass through at least 2 outdoor markets and hop in for a fantastic and entertaining brunch of tapas. The man that owns the place is a fanatical fisherman so has been to Ireland for the salmon and trout fishing. Hanging on the wall are many photos of the gigantic catfish he has caught in Spanish rivers (note to self don't go swimming in rivers) Gunta and Katherine are staying at the Benedictinas and we walk over to the albergue with them but we decide to stay right opposite San Isodore where we can see actually see the church and the Puerta Del Perdon. Its also right on the Camino heading out of town.

Busy Lively Leon

The windows in the Cathedral are amazing-its like sitting in a rainbow-the palette range though is different from what I'm used to with a strange pale green being used extensively. We sit and stare and stare-crick necks but its worth it.

".....its not that Pilar meant to outdo the bride but her choice of scarlet flamenco dress with matching accessories including bag, hat and younger daughter (that's not a happy kid) certainly drew attention from the crowd..."

".........including the father of the bride."

It was actually a lovely wedding and the bride was so happy, the sun came out just as she arrived and all the guests looked very glamorous.
They even had this funky little Citroen for the Wedding limo- its odd but we have seen an awful lot of Peugots and Citroens all the way from Roncevalles. Camino Frances by name Frances by purchase?

For this classically minded stork its location, location, location (memorial to the VII legion).

Puerta Del Perdon- The Door of forgiveness. If a pilgrim wasn't able to complete the pilgrimage due to illness they could be granted the same indulgence by passing though this doorway-so I try get a little insurance. The sculptural programme is amazing and includes a complex allegorical tympanum. Inside the monastery (not the church) are a series of incredibly vivid 12th century frescos decorating the vaults and walls. The museum there also had a great collection of ivories and wonderful fabrics including a stole made by Eleanor of Aquitaine that has a pattern of Gothic facades woven into it- how trendy and up to date is that?
Katherine is to go back home and may, or may not, recommence her Camino this year-so we have a goodbye dinner to send her on way.

Puerta Del Perdon-San Isodore Leon

Carrion de los condes to Sahagun

2009-11-06T19:30:00.001-08:00

Had breakfast with the 'French quartet'. They are such a solid little pack and have developed a great dynamic en route. I've seen them adjusting to support the individual needs of each member-one of the guys carrying a bit more gear allowing one of the woman to travel light for a day or one of them, seeing that another is tired, making sure to build in a good few more 'stop and enjoy the scenery' breaks.
The inspiration for their journey was a promise made by one of the guys that he would walk the CF if he made it through his battle with cancer-which he did.
Having complimented Frances on her french 'which is almost without accent!' praise indeed we started to chat. In the course of the conversation we found out that one of their children had been on exchange to Glenstal and 'was able to speak french to one of the brothers there who as well as being fluent was also an inspirational speaker" I asked them if Mark Patrick Hedermann was the brother concerned and indeed it was!
They were delighted to be told about his recent and historic election as Abbott, and of his having to lose his status as Brother and be ordained as a priest in order to assume that role. We all regarded the fact and that my husband had recently stayed in Glenstall to make a documentary about Mark Patrick as just another example of Camino serendipity.

I was mugged by Sahagun, not literally but visually. I don't know what I've been looking at for the last couple of days but I was certainly shaken out of my stupor by this town. Brick and sun and the baking heat implied by both booted me out of of my cool, damp, celtic comfort zone. Now, as a person with warm brown hair (red), I'm feeling uneasy with the hot pink, orange, brown and terracotta intonations of the town-I'm having the cultural equivalent of a hot flush and its almost as inconvenient and upsetting.

When you're walking you register changes slowly-the shift from heavy slate roofs and thick stone walls to tiles and stucco-from narrow deep lanes sunk between fields to wider level tracks on high ground. Most of these changes are incremental with various hybrids gently bridging you from one tradition to the other. And these changes are often matched by the ebb and flow of the flora and fauna in the environment. However sometimes changes can be inexplicably sudden-from stone to stucco across a a small river or over a little hillock and when that happens, and you are running on Pilgrim time, that shocks and unsettles you. All the careful pattern recognition you've built up over the last few days is worthless, and you now have to learn the basic templates again. I was mugged by Sahagun she stole my blindfold and made me look at the world anew.

San Tirso Sahagun

Siestas play an increasingly important part of our days. I enjoyed an exquisite riverside 'snoozette' late this afternoon

Riverside siesta beside Puenta Canto- Sahagun

I'm getting the hang of these novelty shots now. Sahagun is the halfway point between Roncevalles and Santiago. So as we started in SJPP we are over half way Hurrah!

Frances in front of Archo San Benito-beside Benedictinas Santa Cruz Sahagun

Katherine and Nell in discussion.

Nell, Gunda and Katherine having early breakfast in Sahagun.

Fromista to Carrion De Los Condes

2009-11-06T06:50:00.000-08:00

Breakfast at Villovecio. Liz, John from Australia, Nell from Ireland, Peter from UK and Godweg from Norway. Boots off,friendly house dogs coming for a pet and great fruit juice what more could you ask for?.

Ermita Virgen del rio

View from the church.....

Group (French Norwegian Irish and German) siesta at Ermita Virgen del rio.

We decide to take the Miam Miam Dodo alternative route that runs paralled to main road, its longer but we are rewarded with a gorgeous walk into Carrion -quiet isolation and mountain vistas to the north. There are a few worn old signs that you could miss but we keep spotting the french group in the distance so are kept on course. When we meet up with the main route just outside Carrion the pilgrims that took it seem hot,tired and footsore.

Carrion De Los Condes aka 'Carry on up the Camino'

A dusty sleepy little town the kind I like. We meet up with a gang of people for dinner taking over two big tables in the restaurant where Richard, an English pilgrim with a wry sense of humor, organises everything perfectly despite unruly ex colonials, 6 languages and multiple changed orders (but then he has a solar powered charger on the top of his backpack to charge his phone so planning comes naturally) Afterwards we all attend the blessing in the Santa Maria Albergue which is attached to the church in the centre of town.
Its a full house with pilgrims sitting on the steps of the stairs and the floor or squashed into doorways. The blessing is warm, intimate and moving and the nuns belief and devotion has a gentle implacability that impacts everyone there. They enable each of us to bear witness to our pilgrimage and provide a chance to reflect on the journey so far and to refocus on what lies ahead. At the end of the service we are each given a little paper star the nuns have made and we carefully put our stars in a 'safe place' The sisters do this everyday of the year for all the dusty crowds passing through their door. Now they really are Camino angels.

Castro Jerez to Fromista

2009-11-06T06:26:00.000-08:00

One of the unexpected effects of freezing wind yesterday was the abrasion caused by trousers being pressed against the front of our legs and rubbing against dehydrated skin-we had a two inch wide 'graze' from the knees up-sore but we lashed on cream and wore overtrousers for a bit of protection- it worked thank goodness. Fantastic walking today.

The old roman road leading to the early morning climb up to Alto Mostelares

and the reward for the climb!

Just past San Bol Frances happy in her new light boots- she needed them so she could creep up the couple in the next two shots....
Well shes got them in range but thats not quite good enough to show all the details....
....but shes getting closer. These two are a such an adorable young couple, always together and happy in their own company. You just want to say "aahh" everytime you see them- they have identical packs, trousers, tops, ponchos, hats, staffs and even little gourds, the only difference is that the girl wears gaiters all the time. They reminded both of us us of an old 'Startrite' poster from the 60's the one showing a little boy and girl heading down a road holding hands (and sometimes walking along this couple hold hands, how sweet is that?)
Just past the beautiful Albergue Ermita de San Nicolas is a wind and solar powered traffic light (its in the middle distance on the left hand side) so someone seems to be getting ready for the holy year crowds well in advance then........

Puente de Itero, high tech traffic lights low tech albergue

On the walk along the canal Frances put on her TRAINERS (I hate them they are white and clean and she goes at 100km an hour in them kicking up little puffs of dust with her heals and thats pretty much all I see of her when she has the damn things on) I think they are a camino version of the Red shoes because she changes character when she puts them on and becomes 'Trainer Frances' a competitive 'overtaker'. Well she had on the trainers and we were walking along the path by the canal when she spotted an 'easy target' a guy who just appeared to be walking along at his ease. So her speed increased incrementally eventually building up to 'ramming speed' but to no avail he was just as far ahead of us after 15 minutes as he was at the start and he was still just strolling along whistling. Frances stopped and waited for me saying (now this is not the real Frances but Trainer Frances) "I can't catch up I don't understand it!" We were in hot pursuit until the lock just outside of Fromista when we lost sight of the mystery pilgrim We never saw him again even though its a small town with one Albergue open. If one was superstitious one might think the spirits of the Camino were trying to teach 'Trainer Frances' a lesson......but whoever he is I am going to light a candle for him at the next church.

The lock at Fromista the place at which we lost the 'Mystery Pilgrim'

Inglesia de San Martin - Fromista

Inglesia de San Martin Fromista- its incredible and looks as if someone had just unwrapped it- couldn't get inside due to renovations but its a jewel of a building. I got a crick in my neck walking around with binoculars looking at each of the 300 corbals-and its true what the guide books say each of them is different. There is a wonderful little owl, a naked female holding a little child between her knees (a birthing image?) a range of fantastic creatures and fellow playing the bagpipes ....ouch!

Des and Mac are here before us and Des is in better shape having walked without his heavy pack today- he looks as if he can actually make it into Leon on his own two legs rather than by ambulance.

We and one other pilgrim dine early at a great little place the where the owners daughter delights her father (he's an older dad and she is the apple of his eye) and us with her antics-she is about two what is what we call a 'very pinchy' baby with chubby little cheeks, hands and legs.

Fromista is also where we meet the youngest pilgrim we've come across an shes an eight year old french girl walking with her dad and an older sister of 12. Madamoiselle is sitting on the steps of the albergue with a huge stick across her knees and a lethal looking penknife whittling away. Frances asks her what she's making she pauses and says "why I'm making a pencil"-there is a strongly implied "of course here". So we look suitably chastened and ask her " and will you make a drawing with it later?" She gives a gallic shrug a little nod and says "perhaps". This little pilgrim covers 20 km a day no bother has her own pack and washes her own little bits and pieces, though Liz the motherly australian lady often covertly takes them off the line and rewashes them as La petite occasionally forgets to use soap!

Burgos to Castrojerez

2009-11-06T03:35:00.000-08:00

Its a long walk today but the thing we've learned is that it's not the distance but the terrain that counts so hope we'll be OK and if not can change the plan. Anyway the distance is not what's worrying me......we meet the thing I was dreading the most-my nemesis- the high, flat, deserted, silent Meseta-and guess what I love it!

Its like the sea big, blue and, once you tune into it, full of life, noise and colour -larks by the hundreds singing their hearts out only falling silent when a bird of prey crosses the horizon, all sorts of insects buzzing and clattering away, mice/voles? just caught in your peripheral vision, resilient wild flowers hunkered down against the sharp wind but still breaking into blossom, skys you can't believe-its like a blooming slide show each one better than the last so you move from azure to threatening to clear to "Oh my god that cloud is just like Mrs Drabble my junior school teacher" and then the next act comes up.

I'm dizzy with it and am probably driving Frances crazy with my 'spot, point and describe' response to everything/anything I see though actually I seem to be talking to myself as we walk 'together but apart' for long long sections.

Really able to get into the flow of just walking don't have to watch out for the surface or traffic or anything just walk I wish it could always be this natural. Wind is so cold it hurts but sun bright and clear so I will be sporting the beetroot look tomorrow as cream seems to disappear as fast as I slap it on so Pelerine Rouge it is.

Low stone walls of the meseta

The terrain poses a logistical problem for females looking for a 'Shrub Prive' - there are none and the walls are too low and ditches too shallow to provide an alternative-so whats a girl to do? In desperation I'm thinking of using my big green poncho as a sort of Burqa-like screen until Frances points out that a large florescent green pyramid hovering in a field will draw more attention, not only from pilgrims but from any military aircraft flying overhead or indeed passing satellites, than crouching off road-she has a point.
After an eye-crossing hour I just go for it instructing Frances to keep me posted and, if all else fails, "distract the buggers Frances" (not quite sure how she's meant to do this-throw rocks at them, start a discourse on Wild flowers of the Meseta or offer to show them her blisters-which are sort of intriguing? Maybe its a case of one, some or all of the above?)

It all would have worked perfectly but the tiny ant like figures who are "at least 5 minutes away Nell" have obviously taken some sort of performance enhancing energy bars and shave 4 minutes of the official ETA. Let a veil be drawn over the next 20 seconds.

My learning is :- Once you've committed to an action follow through to your own standards and don't compromise-if you do you will pay the price. I did and left was 'hitching and fixing' for the next hour. Motto of the day peregrinas "Pull up in haste-repent at leisure"!

Meseta en route to Hontanas

It reminds me of the the landscape around Ragusa in Sicily.

The cliche we have read about the little towns here becomes real and we seem to literally 'fall into Hontanas' which is endearingly scuffy (I must have a fondness for the ramshackle as this place has the same 'back of the shelf' feel as Najera and Belorado two other ugly ducking places I loved) Sitting sheltered from the wind in a little sun trap by the church we devour a fantastic tortilla bocadillo and buckets of coke/cafe con leche-life is good on the Meseta.

Hontanas

The Blister Sisters- We get off the boots and socks whenever we stop and 'free the Camino 10' (aka our toes) as we've given them a right hammering today. Had a great micro siesta at this spot outside Castrojerez and when we're resting 2 deer shot from left to right across the landscape leaping and cavorting all over the place-too fast and precious for a photo but I can still see them in my minds eye.

Blister sisters take a break

Castrojerez is the longest village in Europe and our accommodation is.......at the far end of course! Between this spot and the next the wind died down and it got warm......

....then hot...(Frances and Sher)

....and then boiling!

Our siesta meant that Chuck and Sher, who we'd met in Hontanas, caught up with us and he asked again what I would do to 'make this place productive?' Well the landscape I was looking at was contoured with ancient terraces that have been 'productive' for a for over two thousand years. But I must say as I walked over the Meseta I kept thinking "I bet you could breed fast horses here and this ground would build good bone on them as well as providing great gallops". But surely this has been done if not why not?

Both pretty wrecked when we arrive and find the hostal has a bit of a Marie Celeste vibe about it. Meet up with two Irish lads, Des and Pat, retired teachers doing their Camino in sections and in this part they are also are walking to Leon for the baptism of a grandnephew! Des, a strong walker who has never had any trouble before, has really bad tendonitis but is determined to continue to Leon. We persuade him to consider the luggage transit option so at least he's not carrying a load, stressing out Pat and won't arrive at the church by ambulance!

We have dinner with them, Kwik Kate (jolly english lass we met en route to Burgos who whacks off 40 kms before breakfast and who is most likely to say " you know what? I think I might push on a bit" but who is now convinced we are stalking her as is seems to be that she/we stay(s) wherever we/she stay(s)) and the two German pilgrims we call 'Dads do the Camino' (DDC for short) .
I'm so glad we finally get to meet the German chaps as they seem to 'wear their pilgrimage lightly'. They are lovely guys who look as if the have just stepped out to take the dog for a walk, or perhaps go to a rugby match. Its low tech everything M & S checked shirts, regular chinos, small day packs and 'strong shoes'. They smoke-a little, drink spirits-not so little, stay up late- a lot, walk like Trojans talk the whole time and stop to see everything.
Though fast they are the antithesis of the 'speed is everything' Pilgrim Sportif (so often... German) and remind me of my uncle Tiso (Edward) an ex benedictine, ex army career man & the sort of chap you'd be glad to have around in a crisis e.g. terrorist attack/kidnapping/alien invasion.
As DDC started in Leon a few years ago they will be finishing their Camino there in 3/4 days, and I can imagine them on their return home just walking into the house and shouting "I'm home pet" handing over €20 to a sulky teenager and going out to cut the grass.

San Juan De Ortega to Burgos

2009-11-05T21:03:00.000-08:00

The Camino leaves straight as an arrow from the church door. We head out and walk a genteel gavotte with the two Norwegian men-we lead off then they take over, they hang back and then we lead for a while before repeating the whole thing.

The morning colours are beautiful and there is a strange pale lemon diffused over the landscape.

Frances on one of the bridges built by San Juan de Ortega

Looking back to Ata Puerca the site of the earliest human habitation in Europe, and in the background the hills we walked from this morning.

Stagger into a little village and have to stop to patch up the feet. Three old ladies come over to chat with us, they are charming interrogators, and ask us if we miss our husbands........ I think I must have blown my 'hardened woman of the world' cover because one of them gave me a tissue and a little pat......

Mortan and Rune (in his leather mud resistant breeches) catch up with us, which is not hard as I am making heavy weather of it today with blisters. Rune is very encouraging and that kindness, plus the fact that we are having a REST day in Burgos, keeps me going. We have a welcome break at a great little cafe which everyone in the village is popping into for a Sunday get together.

For the Camino between here and Burgos-the 'Airport route'-well I would pay money to have the memory surgically removed-hot sun, hard road, sore feet.

We got to the city which is impressive though it has a sort of reserved hauteur about it but I am making comparisons with other places and that's not really fair on such short acquaintance.

Burgos

The lanterns in the cathedral are exquisite dainty confections despite their scale which is enormous.

As we are having a 2 night stop over hopefully the rest day will give our blisters a change to heal up. We are staying in the Hotel Del Cid which is close to the cathedral (where El Cid is buried).

Sight seeing Burgos style!

Just how close?..........well when I lie on my bed with the binoculars (and I do this a lot)....
this is what I see!.......

.....and when I turn a bit to the left..... this (San Nicolas). I could certainly get used to this kind of sightseeing and on these ground alone consider the room worth every cent.

Frances is obsessed by the interconnected pollarding of the plane trees we saw in Belorado and again here in Burgos, and photographes their ganglion like patterns whenever she sees them. I like them to and as well as being ugly/pretty they must provide the most delicious shade in the summer.

Burgos of course improves on aquaintance and walking around the town in soft sandals, without a backpack and in the knowledge that we don't walk tomorrow is great fun.

kwik Kate is staying in the same place as us again and arrange to meet up with her later for tapas.

Next morning lying in bed with the windows open listening to pilgrims heading out from 5.30am on (you can hear them clearly especially the ones with walking poles) I don't know what gives me more pleasure turning over and going back to sleep or staying awake in my cosy bed listening to to the 'tramp tramp tramp' of pilgrim feet.

Now here is a strange thing by 11.15 we've had breakfast, walked around town again, postcards have been written and sent, journal entries brought up to date, new thinner socks purchased and now we are both getting a bit 'twitchy' to get back on the road-which is crazy?

We do stay on in Burgos-spend more time in and around the cathedral (with the binoculars so yet another crick in the neck but its worth it to be able to see the sculptural programmes) and dawdle in the riverside park drinking coffee and people watching.
While sipping yet another cafe con leche we see the best protest march ever. The protesters are a big crowd of agricultural workers and there is quite a high police presence. One officer, a heavy mustachioed older man, walking at the head of the march stops suddenly and puts up his hand the protesters stop immediately then he takes out a packed of cigarettes lights one up takes a moment to savour the first puff before giving the cavalry gesture to 'move out' and the protest continues -its all very civilised.

Belorado to St Juan de Ortega

2009-11-05T20:48:00.000-08:00

The walk up from Villafranca was lovely and we heard hardly any other birds but cuckoos-hundreds of them (which may explain the absence of other birdies). Then we hit-well a mud autostrada-I have never seen such a wide unsurfaced....mucky track? Heavy machinery and heavier rain made this 'mud central'.
We thought, that as we had started ahead of the pack, it was safe so we started singing the Hippopotamus song at the top of our voices (Mud mud glorious mud there's nothing quite like it for cooling the blood. So follow me follow down to the hollow, and there let us wallow in gloooorius mud) Little did we know that an English pilgrim (aka Kwik kate) was bombing along behind us and rapidly catching up. When she did she mentioned having heard some strange noises "probably heavy machinery" earlier on....so we came clean about our singing. Walked together to San Juan de Ortega and had a late lunch but Kate was pushing on to Atapuerca, 'Pushing on a bit' proved to be characteristic of her as she is a strong walker and travels light.

Tired pilgrims resting outside the church San Juan de Ortega

Kwik kate and Nell (real name kate Rutherford but she can knock of 40km a day after day no bother)

We were tired and muddy and treated ourselves to the hospitality of the Bar Marcela and of the nice pension run by Jose Manuel Perez. He is an amazing young man he runs the bar, the pension, cooks dinner in the restaurant, serves at mass and is the mainstay of the church choir (of about 4 people) He communicates perfectly in Spanish with everybody-no matter what their language is and they understand him.

Had dinner with Mortin and Rune two Norwegian pilgrims who help run the 800km Saint Olafs pilgrimage in Norway and for their (busmans) holidays they walk the Camino. Rune wears very seasoned all weather leather knee breeches and the mud doesn't stick to them at all. Mortin had a bad chest infection and had to go to hospital for a few days he still looks a little grey. The albergue here is not too cosy and I hope he's ok.

Can't get over the size and grandeur of the old Augustinian complex here and it seems a pity that so little of it is now used. Maybe holy year could launch a restoration project with Jose Manuel at the helm anything is possible

The pension is modern, warm, comfortable,clean and has great showers. Its cold and rainy and boy are we glad we can wash and dry our muddy gear.

The Augustinian monastery San Juan de Ortega now sadly derelict.

Romanesque apse with its alabaster windows at San Juan de Ortega

Some of the houses here, as in other little villages, seem to be dissolving away.

Santo Domingo to Belorado

2009-11-05T20:44:00.000-08:00

The 'rest' (well a change is as good as a break!) day in Santo Domingo seems to have made a big difference and we set off early. Katherine has developed abscess on her tooth so is heading back to Toulouse to get it fixed - we don't know if we will see her again.Though she may decide to skip a section and in that case we may meet up- hope everything works out for her she has so much bounce and energy.

Belorado is a sleepy comfortably scruffy sort of place with no notions of grandeur-the people are friendly and laid back and we love it. In a fit of madness we decide to walk on to Villa franca and reckon we can easily do it in 2 hours without our packs and then get the bus back to Belorado. My god what a difference a pack makes we zip into Villa Franca no bother and are glad we aren't staying there as the main road thunders through it -so we hop on the bus back 'home' to Belorado. Our cunning plan means we can have a bit of a sleep in and get the bus back to VF tomorrow.

Sitting in the square sipping a beer admiring the knobbly pollarding of the planes , we notice kids getting their Friday teats at a funny little shop that makes up paper bags with assortments of penny chews and the like. As each child comes out they join the group and walk back and forth comparing notes on what each of them got in their goody bag-its a serious business and. obviously happens every Friday.
Above the town are the remains of Roman Castro and medieval Castelo-the views are breathtaking. On local advice we go to a local bar for dinner-we are the only diners and have to wait for a game of cards to finish and the green baize to be rolled up and put away before our table can be set. The bar is full of people drinking and we form a point of interest for them as we wait for our meal and we're quizzed as to where we're from, what do we do, have we been to Spain before and what is the best place we've seen so far. We tell them truthfully that we like Belorado so much we came back here to spend the night-well that seals the deal and we are treated like royalty and given a great meal.

Castelo at Belorado

Nell heading 'home' in Belorado-storks nests decorating the church.

Najera to Santo Domingo De Calzada

2009-11-05T20:31:00.000-08:00

Head out early up and over the hill out of Najera. We're sorry to leave this friendly little town but are keen to get to Santo Domingo as we're staying 2 nights in order to fit in fairly long detours to Cana and Suso/Yuso.

Stopped to take a break at a purpose built pilgrim rest stop complete with concrete chaise lounges and mud traps for boots! Meet up with two young Austrian pilgrims there who left SJPP 3 days after us. Though walking together they had never met before until SJPP as they fixed the whole thing up on the internet-good grief Frances and I shared rooms in college, survived working as 'scavi slaves' on the TCD digs in Sicily and have known each other for over 30 years ..... and we were a wee bit worried about how we'd manage!

The two lads were puzzled by "all the mud because we have had no rain-no we never need our ponchos".........Frances and I are gobsmacked NO RAIN....the only explanation is that we have been walking in a parallel soggy universe!

But then I look at the panoramic vista and see the explanation before my very eyes- there are 'Winnie the Pooh' rain clouds of enormous proportions drifting along and dumping gallons of rain in very specific spots. So that's it we must have been walking under a cloud (s)-literally

Katherine and 'Winnie the Pooh' rain clouds

The lads head off and as they do we see a spec of blue coming towards us on the track...it looks like a cowboy hat, the trademark of Katherine, so I stand up to see better and the blue speck starts waving its arms it's her alright! She reckoned on where we should be by now, got the bus to Najera asked some pilgrims if they had seen us and then walked like a Trojan to catch up.
It's nice to have a third and the change in dynamic gives both Frances and I a little energy burst. Katherine is like the Reuters of the Camino and has the latest updates on where people are, who got sick and who got better as well as updates on her own situation. We feel dizzy with info and Katherine certainly 'shortens the road' we are in Santa Domingo de Calzada in no time.
The Hospederia Santa Teresita is amazing like a hotel with nuns and we attend vespers there in a small chapel. An elderly lady, obviously a regular attendee, chats loudly through the service until Katherine ssshusses her- quite the devotee! We laugh about it later though Katherine doesn't 'believe' she likes coming to services with us and says its something she mightn't have done on her own.
Visited an enjoyable interactive exhibition in the Cathedral on the theme of 'Sin and Redemption'. In one of the darkened rooms you faced a screen which showed your mirror image being showered with golden letters falling gently from the top to the bottom. The letters kept forming, breaking and forming the phrase "the gentle rain of grace" again and again. You could extend your arms and 'trap' the phrase along your arm or cup the word "grace" in your hand-it was clever and entrancing. Frances said if grace were rain then we would be candidates for beatification.

As we are here for two nights, I go and do a proper laundry of our collective gear in a self service launderette opposite the Del Santo Albergue sit there reading and watching pilgrims coming and going.

In celebration of Katherines 'recommencement' of her Camino we introduce her to her first Gin and tonic in the Parador on Plaza del Santo. An uptight chap in reception won't let us sit in the main lounge proper as 'that's for guests'. But we are allowed to sit in the bar or a small corner of the lounge-not the friendliest of greetings in what was originally a pilgrims hospital- However all is redeemed by the warmth and wonderful service of the lady who brings us our drinks and keeps refilling our bowl of nibbles so much that I worry we won't be able to get out of our seats not to mind leaving the premises.

Treat ourselves to a very posh meal at one of the best places in town -and it's gorgeous-but we all feel a bit like fish out of water not used to the rich fare.

San Millan Suso Looking up to the hermitage through spring blossom

Katherine comes with us the next day on our 'diversion' to Suso, Yuso and Cana. Only one light pack between us so walking is easy...........what bliss. Its lovely heading up into the hills we had been walking 'along side' en route to Santa Domingo. The extra diverseo
is well worth the effort as Suso is wonderful.
Only a handful of people got on the bus that ferries you up from valley to the hermitage site at Suso. Here the guide, a young lassie in green combats who has a tame robin, lets us wander around after the others have left. The janitor has a little booth and sells pebbles marked with the cross of San Milan for 50 cent but its all very laid back and peaceful.
Sitting in the spring sunshine looking out down the valley with its dusting of blossom the only noise being made by the little bobbing robin scratching around for food was just wonderful.Saint Frances is said to have come here on his way to Santiago, and the contrast between the mountain hermitage and the grandeur and administrative bustle of 'Monastic powerhouse' in the valley below reminded me of the difference we experienced in Assisi last year between the main church and St Frances' retreat in the hills.

Suso one of my/our favourite places

View from the Loggia at Suso down to Yuso

Yuso the administrative powerhouse in the valley below Suso.

San Millan Yuso

The Cistercian convent at Cana with Gothic alabaster windows

At Cana we can only get access to the outside of the building as the convent is closed for lunch. However the Gothic alabaster windows are so large and delicate that its a treat just to look at them-even from the outside. Decide to push on back to Santo Domingo rather than wait as, though it's beautiful sweeping countryside, there is a definite smell of snow in the air.

Back in town tired but so happy we'd made the detour. Frances and I both agree that Suso and Eunate are two of our favorite places. Talking of Eunate reminded Katherine that Sebastian, the very earnest pilgrim we met at Roncevalles and Eunate, had to break off his Camino as he had pushed himself too hard physically. I hope he makes it to Suso one day and finds peace and calmness there.

We meet a Swiss pilgrim having a hissy fit as he had lost his guide. He was so sad and worried and Frances, who loves maps and knowing where we are on them-felt his pain most keenly. She showed him our 'Mr B' and he loved it said the maps elevations and accommodation info were all better than his guide. When Katherine told him she had got a copy in an English language section in a bookshop in Logrono he took down the details and was then a man on a mission and set off to call bookshops up route to see if he could get a copy. I think he would almost have considered busing back to Logrono to pick up a copy.

So if Swiss and German pilgrims think it- it must be official- Mr B is the best!

Logrono to Najera

2009-11-05T20:26:00.000-08:00

Boot success this morning Frances got her perfect boots-and they are great-Gortex, light, fit like a glove and cost half nothing compared to Ireland. The choice of everything here is astounding- it would be worth it to fly over to get the gear. I buy replacement over trousers- Gortex for about 20 euro! God bless Decathlon and Katherine for knowing about it. Katherine had decided she needs to give her knees a rest so will stay on maybe for a day or two in Logrono and will rejoin if/when she can. On our way out meet Emily she has taken the bus as to give herself a rest day and will wait for Sean to catch up. Looks tired and I hope she's ok.

Andy Goldworthy eat your heart out! This is my little tribute, one of hundreds of such towers/mounds, to Roland for slaying the giant Ferragut. Who knows if the story is true but the cairns do give the place an air of a ritual landscape. The local authorities obviously don't think so as there is a grander memorial to the event (much closer to the road) a few km further on but my money is on this place.

Roughly painted on the wall of an allotment shed on the way into Najera is the phrase "Peregrino en Najera, najerino" "Pilgrim in Najera you are a Najeran" And that sentiment was maintained by everyone we met in the street, the pharmacist giving us handfuls of little sweets the guy in the hostal being so helpful directing us to a great place to eat and helping with enquiries we had. I loved this town it may be kind of down at heal but somehow that doesn't matter. We are finding out that its the warmth of the locals welcome and their willingness to engage with you as a pilgrim that matters and not the cultural/artistic ratings of a place. In Puenta La Reina, despite its picture postcard prettiness, we met with a cold transactional manner, they could learn a thing or two from Najera.

(thanks to Ana from the forum for this photo as we lost ours)

Dined again with the lovely French couple we met in the Cafe Moderno in Logrono. He grows the grapes for one of the large champagne houses and is a keen 'randonneur'. She partakes in his hobby on a 'part time basis' joining him for a week every now and then. They seem to have got it down to a fine art-he takes off in spring his low season for a month or two and she goes on a cruise when he's busy at harvest time. He was such a genial chap and he told us the reason he walked, and rewalked, the CF was for the joy he finds in people he meets the food and wine he enjoys and the environments he walks through. Beatus vir indeed.

The red sandstone cliffs provide a spectacular backdrop to the town and the storks nesting about the town make a clattering noise with their bills as they settle down. The stone is soft and easily carved out to form shelters, storage, graves etc over the centuries.

The church tower is crowned with a storks nest at each corner.

Los Arcos to Legrono

2009-11-05T20:11:00.001-08:00

Best days walking yet!

Santo Selpulchro-Torres Del Rio

Katherine, Spanish 'Rock guy' and Nell outside S. Sepulchro in the sun-Torres del Rio

Crucifix Santo Sepulchro Torres del Rio

Nell and Katherine 'shiny happy pilgrims' -Blue sky, no rain & mountains-but only as a backdrop

No 'heads down trudging' today as we are keeping a good pace and able to look around and enjoy the landscape we are walking through-and it's a wonderful one-snow-capped mountains to the north, the landscape sculpted with terraced vineyards, vines hard pruned and ready for action, bright green fields contrasting with the tilled pink soil of La Rioja.

Katherine disappearing around the corner-Ermita de Nuestra Senora del Poyo

Vines-Hard pruned

We meet up with an Irish couple walking 'the wrong way' towards us (it's so funny how I form rules in my head- Camino rule 1 'Always Head West') they are doing the Camino in little stages and have Spanish friends who drop them off and collect them at the end of each day.

Climb up a small rise and over the N-111 see Logrono in the distance-easy peasy.
There is a bench very thoughtfully positioned on the roadside so we stop for a snack and 'boots off' time. Sitting in the sun chomping on some great sausage Katherine brought wriggling our toes happy in the knowledge that we still have chocolate and bananas to come.....no wonder people passing in cars stare at the three 'blissed out' pilgrims on the bench.

We pass through Viana which is a great little town, there is a fiesta on and everywhere we go people urge us to stay on for the fun. In one back street come across a group of older citizens with a huge paella on the go-they are very serious and it looks and smells delicious. I'm sorely tempted to linger but we need to get those boots so press on to Logrono.

We get our sello at the Cathedral and, hidden around the back of the alter, discover a beautiful little Durer drawing of the Crucifiction. Have dinner with other pilgrims in the Cafe Moderno (great spot) and sample a glass or three of some fine Rioja-as a matter of duty as Stephen specifically asked that I should. Its a tough old station being a pilgrim sometimes.

"Hey Frances are you sure this is right-as its kind of flatish and nice to walk on?"

Viana

Estella to Los Arcos

2009-11-05T19:39:00.000-08:00

Easter in Los Arcos

We were treated to a sunrise serenade by 3 or 4 musicians in medieval costumes. They seemed to be following a route and stopping and singing at designated locations-must have something to do with the Easter celebrations? Anyway is was a lovely early morning treat.
Leaving Estella we met up with Katherine, the young german lassie who 'blew' her knees on our epic retreat from the Cruceiro down to Argeguy and up the valley route and, as she was going to Los Arcos as well, we went together. Katherine is very bouncy and speaks German, French and Spanish-sometimes it seems all at the same time-what energy! Its no surprise when she tells us her favourite Disney character is.....Tigger! She gives us 'updates' on the group and we find out that S.A. Emily is actually a journalist writing an article on the Camino Frances- and when I come to think of it I do remember her assiduously taking notes as everyone chatted in the bar at La Posada.

Easter Procession Los Arcos

Arrive into Los Arcos in time for Easter mass and the very end of the procession that precedes the service- so got to see the palanquins of the life of Christ at the head of the procession. God knows what Katherine thinks because whenever she meets us she seems to get dragged off to mass by these 'two Irish ones'!

This service was a warm, local and familiar affair as beautiful, but very different from, the urbane restraint of Holy Thursday in Pamplona.

The Los Arcons were friendly and very inclusive, even though they were all in their Easter best and we were really pretty grubby.

Somehow Frances wrangled a place in the nave alongside the town dignitaries in their gorgeous aquamarine robe with black fur trimmings. I on the other hand, along side a cadre of small boys (obviously the towns 'live wires'), was consigned to 'the gods', a gallery opposite the organ with great views of the choir and congregation. I was a little worried as this elevated spot seemed to provide an almost perfect position for juvenile sabotage of the crowd below. Thankfully we were joined by a lady with a basilisk stare and, in her presence, the boys behaved as angelically as they looked.
They brought to mind the young pilgrim who had died up beyond Orisson-his little wayside marker is a memory I seem to carry with me to each place of worship. I light a candle or say a prayer for the unknown pilgrim whenever I can.

The choir sang their hearts out but it was only halfway through mass I noticed that each of the organ pipes had a chorister face painted on them, each singers 'mouth' corresponding to the air hole in the pipe and all apparently 'joining in' equal enthusiasm, Every one of the painted faces was unique in look and expression. How such a jolly conceit, and one that is so much fun to look at during service, was ever allowed I don't know.

Because of the day that was in it we treated ourselves to a Kinder egg each -but I did think about that gigantic Easter egg we had seen in Estella just once or twice.

It got pretty cold so we sat in the bar in the Hotel Monaco sipping coffee and updating journals-outside the kids were playing a game like handball and the mums and dads could keep an eye on them from the bar-so everyone was happy. Nice meal and warm beds-Happy Easter.

Congregation Easter mass Los Arcos

Palanquins of the Life of Christ- Easter Procession Los Archos

Looking forward to the walk tomorrow going via Torre del Rio where there's another centralised church like Eunate. On Katherines advice we plan to go to a Decathlon outlet in Logrono to try to get Frances new boots as, thought her current ones worked well at home, they seem to have 'turned rogue' once we hit the Pyrenees. Boots can be like that.

Wonderful dusk with the storks settling into their nests silhouetted against the sky.

Dusk Easter Sunday Los Arcos

Puente La Reina to Estella

2009-11-05T19:28:00.000-08:00

Following the Flechas - Heading out over the eponymous Puente La Reina

Pass fields of asparagus being harvested and I hope George, temporary guardian of my vegetable patch at home, is keeping an eye on my asparagus bed. Here piles of asparagus spears are discarded simply because they are a bit bendy. This seems a little harsh and I want to go down and 'liberate' a few handfuls but am 'somewhat hampered' by the mud

Harvesting asparagus from the red mud of Navarre

Though the addition of 6kgs of red mud to each each foot results in a fantastic aerobic workout-its something I would rather pass up the next time. We have to clean each others boots as you can't actually lift up your feet to do the job yourself. I wonder, when I''m on scrape duty, if I'm the boy scout doesn't that make Frances the pony? But no matter how many times we scrap them clean our boots soon revert into big red mud-balls.

The trick is to keep going because when we stop we start to slide backwards-sometimes these unintentional glissades can look oddly graceful. But its penitential walking and I think we must have done something awfully bad in a former life.

However my day is brightened immeasurably by the site of a rainbow hued, lycra clad cyclist trying to push his bike up a mudslide, his problem is compounded as he's wearing those "clack clickity clack" plastic shoes that bolt onto the pedals but have no grip whatsoever. I have to pause to fully enjoy the spectacle. Today there's no casual 'Hola' cast behind when speeding past us in fact we leave him far behind.....schadenfreude at its worst-I'm afraid I'm a bad pilgrim and getting worse.

'The mud is always drier on the other side of the track'

Of course hubris dictates I pay for my lapse, and in fact pay quite heavily- Having unpacked for a picturesque lunch break in Cirauqui I end up leaving my beloved Paclite over-trousers on a bench where we ate. It seems like a disaster and my face is a stormy as the sky for about 5km-but even I have to smile when 'my cyclist' rushes past us and wishes us a heartfelt "Hola buen camino".

The approach to Estella has a 'backdoor' feel that is a little off putting, but we find the town itself delightful. The temperature has fallen so we bundle up and go for a good wander around as there is so much to see here. After a day wearing the equivalent of lead diving boots its a joy to skip along like spring lambs in our sandals (well sort of)

Doorway in Estella/Lizarra with a crescent moon shape for the knocker plate.

Nell admiring the Doorway of Santo Sepulchro

There is something awfully french about these figures

Estella has lots of bars, cafes and artisan chocolatiers so, as it would be rude not to, we go on a bit of a chocolate binge. In the Plaza Fueros I find the perfect easter egg for Stephen, its enormous and, just in case one might be peckish having consumed 20kgs of chocolate,it has a white chocolate chicken inside.

Even I couldn't eat an egg that big... but I might enjoy trying!

Eat in a noisy little bar where everyone is glued to the bull fighting on the TV. Launching into a damp liberal 'gosh isn't that appalling' I notice Frances face alight with interest-well I know my rant hasn't been that good and it dawns on me that she's hooked by the bullfighting! A little shamefaced about admitting it at first she says finds it 'intriguing'. Intriguing my neck that's just a lay-by on the way to becoming devotee, and the fact that somehow we spend the rest of the evening there proves it.

Feel we are getting into the pilgrim groove of things now and that our regular life, though safe and ticking along waiting for us to get back, is very far away.

Pamplona to Puente Le Reina

2009-11-05T19:02:00.001-08:00

I beg your perdon I never promised you a rose garden

We're off early again up to Alto Del Perdon heading into a fierce wind that drives rain in short sharp showers these blow off in minutes- so you are almost, but not quite, blown dry by the time the next one comes along.

Now I understand that the 'windblown' appearance of the sculptural figures is absolutely realistic.

The obligatory novelty shot of Frances At Alto del Perdon

We meet Steve at the top-ate with him at Roncevalles- he tells us he was walking with Emily but that she needed to push on to Puenta Le Reina-she must be going at a heck of a rate as Steve is fast enough. Its too cold to hang around so heads down we head down.

Steve and Nell at Alto Del Perdon on Good Friday

The rain showers get heavier and its on and off with over trousers, jackets and ponchos. I advocate a detour to Eunate and Frances, a friend and pilgrim true, agrees.

Just beyond Muruzabal we come to a rustic sign that tells us 747km to Santiago. We are soggy but happy pilgrims today.

Not so far to go!

Not even the glowering sky en route to Eunate can dispirit us-in fact we think its beautiful

Eunate doesn't disappoint its worth every step of the detour in fact we'd have walked far longer to see it (which is good because I have another little 'detour' in mind to see Suso and Yuso so a lot hangs on this one being successful)

Frances started clicking away as soon as the church came in sight and doesn't stop til it disappears from our horizon (all good signs for the next detour).

She captured the charming rustic geometry of the vaults and the alabaster windows which let light in yet keep the world out. The pearly tone of the light is very special.

Alabaster windows and Corbel faces from Eunate, my favourite was the man on the right who had just taken his dentures out.

As we are sitting quietly in the chapel the rain becomes torrential-we don't want to leave but feel fit and know we have a good few miles left in the tank.

As we use the albergues 'self service sello' a figure approaches waving at us through the rain. Its Sebastian one of our 'graduating class' from Roncevalles. He's always wanted to stay at the albergue here but as he is feeling tired and there is no one around at the moment he wonders if he should move on. It seems too important a dream to relinquish, and though hesitant to intervene, both of us feel we should encourage him to go into the chapel, dry off, rest up a bit and wait for the hospitalaros return.

The view leaving Eunate-The rain maybe heavy but our hearts are light

Its not only raining on our parade today, a party of girls on a day trip make the best of it and have great fun skipping in the shelter of the church porch at Obanos-the albergue looks nice to. Lunch seems to taste all the better for the weather and we tuck into our picnic accompanied by sound of swooshing skipping ropes and giggles. I'm half tempted to 'run in' when there's a pause in the skipping line but restrain myself.

Skipping in the rain at Obanos

If we needed a waterproof stess test for our kit we got it this afternoon-stair rods/firemans hose/ buckets you can describe it anyway you like its just bloody wet-and we're Irish so we know a soft day when we see one.

Arrived in to Puente Le Reina get showered and try to dry off as much as we can. Its a very pretty town but there is something coolly transactional about the residents-it odd but its the absence of those silent acknowledgments and well wishes we have become used to over the last few days that make us appreciate them all the more. What makes a place special for me, and I think Frances, are those little kindnesses. We are becoming Blanche De Bois of the road and relying 'upon the kindness of strangers'.

Puente Le Reina aka Puente Le Raina

Zubiri to Pamplona

2009-11-05T18:45:00.000-08:00

Good friendship is a land of compromise and when I think of all Frances has modified for me I am ashamed of my selfish 'but I want to do it all' thoughts: So we pop into the Bar below Signora Bento Berri's apartment get our breakfast and set off for the bus stop. Waiting in the sunshine it becomes obvious that the regular bus service is a 'no go' on a Holy Thursday.

Because Frances was so tired yesterday we had agreed to little or no walking today, however she is 'very perky' now and suggests we 'walk on for a bit and catch a bus later on'-sounds good to me.

Of course we walk on and keep on walking on and on by the river. It's a beautiful walk not scary or dangerous so we can really enjoy the spring flowers, birds song and happy pilgrims passing by-we even catch a sunny siesta in a lush green field. What a treat to get the boots off, wiggle the toes and a do some blister repairs/prevention.

'I don't know how but we missed the turn off for Larrasoana so by the time we hit the main road its only a few kms to Pamplona- hardly worth taking a bus-so we press on.....(I give a little secret hurrah!)

Hellebores by the hundreds growing like weeds and I laugh to think of my pampered little darlings at home .

Frances has some sort of National Trust signage and administrative crisis-in fact she looses her temper (which means she presses her lips together, exhales gently, uses the phrases "for Gods sake" and "bloody ridiculous" and even gesticulates-which is all a bit shocking) at a rather long but very scenic 're-route' devised to avoid a 30 foot bit of path slippage. I make a strategic decision to walk ahead for a bit.

The re-route that broke the pilgrims back

We keep coming across these little furry fellows walking head to tail across the path forming chains that can be 3 to 4 metres long. This chain had been broken by a cyclist (even the caterpillers aren't safe from those demons) and were having some crisis dealing with the fact that now "they who were last shall be made first"

Chains of Furryboys at Monte Miravalles

"Hey you up there can you see whats going on up?".... "I don't know mate looks like some kind of accident- we could be here for hours"

Trinidad De Arre and we feel fantastic to have done the 26kms that seemed so impossible last night. Maybe that's the trick-everyday we should tell ourselves "No you don't have to walk today you can catch a bus at anytime.............but lets take a little stroll first".

Bridge over Rio Ulzama at Trinidad de Arre just before Pamplona -nice place to stop off.

Walk into a park see the iconic Puenta de la Magdelana in late afternoon sun and collapse in a heap on a park bench to savour the moment. Busy Pamplonans hurry past looking smart and we feel a bit grubby. Our first big city and its the first time we feel 'autre'- outside and apart from the 'regular' lives all around us.

There's some sort of street party going on as we head into the city and when we ask for directions a sweet, but completely stoned, young man engages us in over enthusiastic conversation whereupon his be-studded Goth girlfriend sternly tells him off and then courteously points us in the right direction. I wish I could tell her mum how gracious and kind her daughter is to middle aged pilgrims.

Tramp on up to the Plaza del Castilo and celebrate by sitting in the square with a cool beer-its exquisite just to stop walking and sit.

Mrs Tiggywinkle has nothing on us as we do a major laundry in the evening, and our little washing line proves it was worth every cent.

Pamplona is wonderful, loud and lively. At a tapas bar we stuff ourselves with delicious food and wine -as for entertainment well watching all the families, from Grannies to tiny kids, out socialising is enough to keep you going for hours. There's no music blaring the incredible noise is just people talking to family and friends.

As its Holy Thursday we head up to the Cathedral at 9pm- the a cappella service is candlelit and attended by a congregation of 50-60 max. We move from one chapel to another with a great palanquin bearing a statue of the Mater Dolorosa, and as the Stabat Mater is sung the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. It's Perfect, profound and moving. When service is over the congregation leaves quietly and soberly- such a contrast to the boisterous crowds of earlier on.

Going posh in Pamplona.

The single best purchase our 'twisty no pegs needed' washing line that we can, with the use of walking poles, rig up anywhere-a godsend

Roncevalles to Zubiri

2009-11-05T18:40:00.001-08:00

Up early and its still pitch dark and raining. The beams from our head torches pick out rain darkened tree trunks, dripping leaves and once the startled eyes of some animal (though it could have been a pilgrim taking a 'natural break'-I hope not). There are other pilgrims-we can hear them 'huffing and puffing' along in the dark but even as dawn comes up no one is recognisable in their heavy rain gear.

Suffering from 'acute signage anxiety' I sweep my head from left to right as if I was a member of a crack security team- I think 'ridiculous' is the word I'm looking for here. However pulling out Mr B (Brierleys Guide) calms us down and we find this displacement activity works like a treat every time- something tells me this will become one of our little Camino rituals. The path is obvious and clearly marked-I just need to trust that.

Walking into Burguete there are more of 'us' than we'd thought, in fact there's quite a crowd at the little cafe. This feels like our first proper pilgrim breakfast and we splurge out on juice, cafe con leche and tostada. Nodding and smiling at each other we begin to register a loose 'walking pack'. I suppose this will change, as paces vary and some people will be dropping off along the way, but I reckon we'll see these most of these faces up to Pamplona at least.

Buy the fixings for lunch in Espinal where the tiny shop is full of little kids getting sweets on their way to school each of them wishing us 'Buen Camino' as we leave.That little chorus of good will works and the weather is gorgeous now.

Ponies in their wooly coats grazing beyond Espinal

We cross 'that bridge' the one you see in the guides etc, and Frances insists on 'the shot' My Camino nearly comes to a premature end as the algae on the concrete is very slippery on the 'dismount'. Pilgrim Beware!

That Bridge over the rio Erro

Though the weather has cleared up some of the tracks are hardcore muddy-thank god I've got the gaiters. Sluurping and sliding along can be fun, in fact and I discover my 'inner muck-hound'. Some dainty, tough Korean girls walk past us and their white trainers are spotless- how do they do that is it because they are so light?

Beyond Linzoain we begin to flag a little and by the time we get to Alto de Erro Frances has "heavy legs" and is beginning to struggle- but we need to get down to Zubiri and, though its sunny, I can see heavy clouds are coming in from the north. The last thing I want is for us to be heading down the rocky path to Zubiri in rain. I walk a little ahead of her in the hope that maybe seeing me just 'plodding along' will help?

Eventually we have to take a mini siesta in a sunny little clearing the woods and get those boots off for a bit. Its lovely and warm in the sunshine and, though I cherish the experience, I do get anxious as once the Brazilian pilgrims walk past there seems to be no one else coming down the trail. However that break really revives us-that's an important learning - and we even 'overtake' some pilgrims on the way down!

The 'Zubiri Descent' was something that had caused me some anxiety but, though steep, its not as bad as I had expected.

Coming down into Zubiri

Puente de la Rabia is a welcome sight but we don't pause to admire the view and head straight to Pension Bento Barri. It's a tiny flat with 3 bedrooms rented out to pilgrims shared kitchen and bathroom, and Signora Bento Barri sleeps in the living room. It's spartan, clean and cheap-in other words perfect. Frances falls into a 'sleep trance' within minutes.

Booked in for the pilgrim meal in the bar below the apartment and meet up with the French Canadian couple who we'd last seen slogging up to the Cruciero in the snow (red ponchos). Have a nice evening with them and the Brazilian group entertained everyone they are so jolly. Maria identifies one of them as 'The Snorer' this chap produces snores of legendary proportions shaking the dorm so while he sleeps no-one else can.

Frances is still very tired and doubts that she can walk tomorrow-I declare that tomorrow is therefore a 'fiesta day' and, that if she wants, we can take the bus. I'm fine with that we've a long way ahead and she's been fantastic so far in some fairly narly conditions....so lets see what tomorrow brings.