Molinaseca to Ponferada and Villafranca del Bierzo

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

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