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

Astorga to Rabanal

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.