This is my final destination ---- the cathedral in santiago
These are some of the Camino routes to Santiago. My route was from Pamplona (Spanish side of the French Spanish border) to Santiago -- about four weeks. Aer Lingus flies Dublin Bilbao. A popular starting point also goes from St. Jean Pied De Port (just inside the French border) to Santiago. Ryanair flies Dublin Biarritz which is nearby. There is an airport at Santander also serviced by Ryanair allowing easy access for a start at Burgos or Leon also. There is a reasonable bus service on the route. Each town on the Spanish side of this map represents a recommended stage or a days walking (it is just a suggestion and there are all sorts of possibilities). If you were madly ambitious you could start in Le Puy in France. Its a nice round 1,000 miles from there to Santiago.The minimum distance to get your scroll is 100 km so you would need to start at Sarria. It is five days comfortable walking from Sarria to Santiago stopping at Portamarin, Palace de Ria, Ribadiso, Arca and then Santiago. You can fly into Santiago and get a bus from the airport to Lugo bus station and then another bus from there to Sarria (read my log). Hotel Roma in Sarria costs less than 50 euros for a room. You can walk to this hotel from the bus station and it is near the start of the walk for the next morning. Do not forget to get your pilgrim passport stamped in Sarria in the hotel or wherever-- it is the evidence that you started walking with over 100 km to go.
Start of Log
28th August
Arrived Bilbao airport from Dublin after a pleasant flight. I get the airport bus into town to the bus station. No problem getting the bus to Pamplona from the bus station. There is a digital display unit giving the time and destination of each bus plus where it will be waiting eg bays 7 to 10. Arrive in Pamplona and I get the first problem. I thought I was very smart -- I had booked a hotel in a place called Plaz Europa near the bus station and near the start of the walk in the morning. The only problem is there are two Plaz Europa and it is on the far out skirts of the city -- but the right side for walking. I get a taxi there and have an earlyish night -- 12 o clock. I think I have everything organised. I got my pilgrims passport in Dublin and had it signed at Guiness brewery, St James Gate which is the official starting place for Irish pilgrims. I then go and follow tradition and proceed to the Brian Boru pub in Glasnevin to have a pint or two and to have the second stamp put on my passport from the Brian Boru pub. With the blessings of St James and Brian Boru (Irish hero) behind me I am now ready to begin the walk. The passport is essential to get entry to the places of accommodation and you need to have it stamped as you go along in churches, Albergues (hostels) etc to verify that you have adequately completed the requirements. When you arrive in santiago you then present your credentials ie the stamped passport at the pilgrims office near the Cathedral. You will be interviewed and if all goes well you will get the thumbs up to get the scroll of St James verifying that you have completed the Camino. There are two versions of the scroll -- a religious one for those who declared that they had a religious motivation for the walk and an alternative version for those that did not have a religious motivation -- so there is room for everyone.
29th August
First day of walk. Pamplona to Puenta le Rina 23km
The long road ahead
A little apprehensive as I saw a road sign last night Santiago 760 km or something like that -- woops is this it. However I start fine on the outskirts of Pamplona. I am gone about two hours and there right in front of me is the first casualty a man has fallen. His face is cut and he is on his hands and knees with his hands working through the grass. I think he is looking for his glasses with a very distressed lady looking on. I am unable to help so I proceed past wind mills and I eventually stop for a snack. I have a salad for 4.80 euros. I eventually reach the destination Puenta Le Rina about 23 km with one steep climb to 700 metres where the wind mills are. I find a nice hostel (called Albergue in Spain) and am informed dinner tonight is 10 euros and includes a bottle of wine. First day was tough but not bad ------ very pleasant countryside. Met all sorts of characters. My bag is about 10kilos but I met an Australian carrying a 6 stone bag (it must have being six stone between the wife's bag and his bag)---- straight to heaven for him. Met a good few cyclists too but the route was very tough for cyclists today in my opinion. When I arrived in Albergue I washed and washed-- no problem washing clothes as clothes lines everywhere. I decided around 6pm with a friend or two that we would head out to the nearest pub for a pint to celebrate. Well The temp. was now up in the mid thirtys --- the heat was something else --- its not very wise to get caught walking too long under this heat. It was a beautiful medieval type of town with narrow pedestrian streets and those beautiful timber doors with an arch on the top. When we were sitting outside the pub a guy in his thirtys goes past with an Irish team Eircom T shirt. I give him a shout. He is from County Kildare but now married to a Spaniard and living in Spain teaching English--- god help the kids -- with a Kildare accent. He admits he has lost touch a little with what is happening in Ireland -- he is more Spanish than Irish now. He suggested we meet later in the hotel for a pint. I turn up about 9.15 and he does not show but then I think later to him an adopted Spaniard now is probably 8pm.
30Th august Puenta le Rina to Estella 21km
Slept well last night on top bunk. On the floor at 6 am. Lucky I got four huge oranges last night as there is no other food. We head off around 7 am. the instructions say its 21km with very steep climbs today. They could have said straight up to 60% the height of Lug mountain in Ireland and back down and then up again. Everyone feeling a bit of pain. I now I have some days which are over 50% more distance than this so I decide to push it to see how I can cope. Beautiful old villages in route like Maneru and Cirauqui where we stop and have an orange and a bread roll. No butter or fancy stuffs for you. While there munching who comes along but the distressed woman that was standing over the man who had fallen yesterday. No sign of the poor man now and she looks much better -- as Albert Reynolds our former leader in Ireland said "Ah thats women for you". I head on to Lorca. Next to Villaatuerta and the final leg to Estella. There are some nice water streams and village pumps. Same thing each time --- its very hot so I take the hat off --shove the head under the water --- fill the hat with water and put it back on the head and move on. The last leg was hard. Normally there are people walking in front and behind of you. I am on my own for about six km. I know I am probably ahead of the posse but I am double checking signs to be sure. Some times there are alternative routes and I think for a minute maybe I am on a solo run here and maybe I am bypassing the final town which is Estella. I can see the toes of my boots are wet and its not from wet grass its the sweat dripping from my face --- its burning hot now. The town eventually shows ---its coming up to 1pm. There are probably 300 albergue beds in town. I am early all right . I get a slip of paper from the warden who has no English with a print out something 19 and something 1. I do not know what this means but I assume its my bed. I heard a lady speaking English nearby and I discreetly go to her and she explains you are bed 19 room 1. My new life style becomes a little clearer now. The warden relieves me of 5.5euros for the bed and points to a sign -- doors close at 10pm ----silence at 10.15. Its your typical pilgrims Albergue and I will get used to this "religious" life. I sure know I have being in a tough walk. I shower for ever and resist lying down for a rest. I walk down town --- a beautiful town. Everyhing is closed because its the middle of the day but one shop is open and its doing a booming trade -- its the red cross treating pilgrims. One Canadian woman has eight blisters including a new one within an old blister but she wants to go on walking. There is probably 200 to 300 moving each day from town to town. I had to go into a pub to get the internet and I am forced to have a pint. Estella is a smashing town. I walk everywhere and find the big square with everyone eating out. There are a lot of antique shops in the town. I go back to my internet pub for a pint and they are doing grub like a mixed grill for seven euros. I opt for the security of this instead of the pilgrims dinner which is on offer in a few places for nine euros which includes three courses and plenty wine. He gives me a free beer with the grub. The signs outside the restaurants say menu del dia. It gives the choice and usually says wine or water is included and it gives the price. When I go back to the Albergue I discover the 5.5 euros covers breakfast also.
31st August
Estella to Los Arcos 22km
Up at 6 in the morning. Head off at 7 -- I am with a very nice Danish woman called Anette who is from an island in the canal in Jutland -- she has a B and B their at 35 euros per night -- she said 35 is the max. as she has a lot of German customers and that is their ceiling. She planned the trip one year in advance and her husband died three months before she came on the trip. The journey to day is 22km with no stops in the last half. There was in effect no stops in the first half either because all the sleepy villages were not open -- its Sunday. This is a reminder of never be without some food even yesterdays crust is heaven in this situation. I have a crust from yesterday. I leave my company behind as I have much heavier days ahead and I need practice at pushing it. I arrive in Los Arcos at 11.30am and book into a private hostel 8 euros . We go to mass. After mass is a special blessing for pilgrims by the PP --- very nice occasion in beautiful church. Tallest point that day was 650 meters . I leave going to the shops too late so I was unable to buy food.
1st Sept
Los Arcos to Logrono 28km
I head off before 7 after eating a bit of cheese that some one gave me and four biscuits that were a little beaten up in my bag plus a mars bar. I have no great worries about the food as the trail is full of blackberries and I eat a mug of them each day. We walk past the cemetery with the inscription "you are what I once was and you will be what I am now" a sobering reminder just as it is getting bright. We have a big climb early on and reach a beautiful medieval town called Viana at 20km. Very tempting to sit down but I motor on. It was very hot. There was also only one Albergue at my destination --- a huge one in this city of Logrono. When I arrive there is a queue forming and I am number nine --- the Japs are in front of me. This is the famous wine growing region of Rioja. You can smell money everwhere so far but esp here --good houses --good cars -- good restaurants and stone quarries along the road working like mad. The hostel cost 4 euros and the net is free. Special dinner in the restaurant moderno for pilgrims. The menu costs 9 euro each. It was a great salad starter, a choice of lovely fish or meat for the main course and a desert with a bottle of wine thrown in. We called the waiter "hop along" as he had a problem with one leg and at first he looked very dour but when we played tricks with him he was grand. We came out into their equivalent of Temple bar in Dublin -- it was booming/packed street after street with people of all age groups eating and drinking. Remember this is Monday night and it is of course pre 10pm as I well know because I have an appointment with the gate keeper for 10 pm.
2nd Sept
Logrono to Najera 29.4 km became Logrono to Azorfa
This is to be a big day. I am on the floor at 4.30. Surely I have beaten the Japs --- a quick check at their bed and they are gone---- me thinking I have to fix this. Ready to go at 5.10 and I join up with a highly geared Italian group with gps etc. Its black dark and you need a group as everyone is watching for the signs to Santiago. These are yellow arrow signs ----mostly good but not always present. We make a few false turns but correct it quickly. I move ahead from my adopted group at day break two hours later and link up with three Germans --- the signs disappear after a spell --when there is none at the next cross roads we redouble back knowing we are on a wrong trail --- great it puts 2km plus on to 29.4 km walk. It is a straight forward journey. I do not stop except for a drink of water and another orange. I arrive in Najera which is to be the final destination at 12pm. I feel great after the 32km and I am thinking of going on. We call into a shebeen and have two coffees and a sandwich. There are two very pleasant Germans in the shebeen and I try to tempt them to go on but they have hung their boots up for the day. Town does not look great. I have two stages to make up if I am to be in Sarria when my wife Mary arrives and to day is a good day to start so I start out for the next town Azorfa. There is no stop after this for 16 km so I think its not possible to go further than Azorfa -- any ambitions of going further were dispelled when I saw the mountain range that needed negotiating at the other side of Azorfa. I stop in a beautiful hostel in Azorfa --6 euros. Not a bad day 37/38km and I feel fine but the heat was on my side today ---Yesterday was up in the 30s. We had a poor German girl that had some mental problems -- she arrived with her dog. We met her in frantic mood the second night trying to get the dog and herself into a Albergue. The dog was not up to the heat and her husband and father drove from Germany to collect the dog. We have not seen the girl since so there may have being a second trip.
So my room is beautiful with two beds. I follow the usual routine ie take valuables out of trousers pocket and then walk straight into shower with lashing of shampoo-- clothes then come off and I am washing them with my feet while I shower ---I am into work study. In the middle of the shower I realise I left m towel and clean clothes behind -- small problem in these mixed institutions --- nobody gives a damn how much clothes you have on. On another evening I forgot to bring clean underwear to the shower area so I had to slip my trousers off again in the room to sneak the underwear on. Like an idiot I start looking for the most private area and settle for behind a row of beds but there is one woman in the same area. I do a fast manoeuvre to get the under pants on and look down at the woman in case she is in view but she is doing something similar so no more of that. Most Albergues so far have this fountain of cool water that you can put your feet in ---heaven. I go back to my room and there is a big lanky guy in the other bed, I say Que tal (how is it going) my name is John Murphy and stick out my hand. Is that so comes the reply -- my name is Neil Dargan and I am from County Clare. He later informs me that Fr.goes before Neil. He invites me to join his group for dinner which is great because I have left all of the group that were with me up to now behind including the Japs. That was sad as I had got to know quite a few. We have a smashing dinner of three courses for 9 Euros. They are superb company. There is a Dutch girl and she has a thing about ticks --- she says they are everywhere in the Netherlands -. in the grass ---- in ----the forests everywhere. Poor Fr Neil is eaten alive with Mosquito bites and the Dutch girl offers to spray him with anti tick stuff which makes the smell of cattle slurry feel good. He politely refuses. I have had an attack of mosquitoes also but I keep quite. We all remember where ticks like to get a bite out of you and we get the shivers -- then someone asks how do you make love in the Netherlands if these things are everywhere. After dinner I study the map of the next two days . I have 16 km further to make up so that I have taken one of the stages out and thought of spreading it over the next two days but the second day has much tougher climbs than I had figured. I will try and eat up as much km as possible tomorrow but the full distance is 40 km -- not recommended -- but maybe the weather will help. I check the route out of town and where the path leaves the road as I will be on my own that early in the morning and in the dark. Getting the first turn right builds the confidence. To day also I walk for a little while with Eg from Netherlands. He is over religious -- has being to Connemara often. I think they have some kind of commune around Roundstone. He told me he got lost everyday including in the Pyrenees which could be quite dangerous. To make matters worse he looks like a person that would walk more than half way to meet trouble ----- a good reason for me to up a gear and move ahead.
The rising sun gets my shadow into the picture
3rd Sept Azorfa to Belorado 39km
I hear noise in the Albergue and thinking its the early birds (the Japs are in my brain) I jump out of bed wakening poor Fr Neil and proceed to washing. I check the watch to discover its 3.30. My good watch is in the bottom of the sea lost off a yacht and the turnip I have now has no luminous hands. Back to bed until 6 am. Fr Neil asks me would I like to go with them (shorter journey tomorrow). I am tempted as they are lovely human beings but I need to be in Sarria on 20th Sept. to join my wife so I need to make up time. Being late to meet my wife would be a bigger punishment than the hardest climb. I leave at 6.30 in the black darkness. I have a head torch. There is no one else on the route so I need to be extra vigilant watching for little arrows as there are alternative paths everywhere. As a rule of thumb if you come to two junctions and there is no sign you need to do a lot of figuring just in case you have taken a wrong turn eg you look for where the nearest road is and see if its in the map -- you look for fresh footprints on the ground -- no use now as I am probably first. If all else fails you double back to where the last sign was and study everything as you move forward. Great morning as I got it right all the way. The sun comes up -- the sky is a bit cloudy -- I think my luck is in as the temp. is not coming up. I am not stopping now. An orange was my breakfast again and there are plenty blackberries which I eat. I walk non stop except for an odd drink of water for 16km to Santo Domingo De Calzada. The sun has now burnt up the clouds and it is hot - very hot. I take a break and visit the beautiful Cathedral of St Dominic . St Dominic was 11 century and gave his life to building bridges for the pilgrims. I visit every church on the route. I buy a beautiful lump of cheese and a then a roll for my lunch and head off again keeping my options open. I was gone thirty yards when I remembered my bloody stick ---- I nearly forgot it. At one point I see three young cyclists doing running repairs to a bicycle. I go over to them for a bit of distraction. They are three very nice French guys with very little English. We have a bit of a crack asking each other why the hell we are doing this in this heat. I say next year I may be dead and one of them replies taking forever saying "you are -- are too -- too young to -- to --- to ( he scratches the ground with his leg) to go underground". Luckily I have today several fall back places where I can get a bed if I cannot go on. We have moved now from grape country to corn country --- open fields of corn everywhere as far as the eye can see. I see about 200 sheep in a cut corn field in open country with two dogs just wandering around them as if everyone clearly knew their jobs and responsibilities. The sheep were obviously milked for cheese or for whatever. I hear my mobile ringing. I had stopped answering it for economical reasons but it rings again after a minute so I answer it. Mairead Lavery from the Farmers Journal is on the phone and we discuss doing an article on the Camino. This is great because I love writing and I am glad that I answer the phone. The day went on and I realise it will be 3.30 or 4 in the afternoon if I keep going to Belorado and I will be walking very fast for over nine hours and I will be walking under the worst of the days sun to add to the challenge. Still I feel ok and keep going. At seven km from Belorado I pass my last fall back situation for a bed for the night -- I kind of half looked at it in case the flesh got weak but I am clear that I can go on. At bout 6km to go I pass a lady who is finding it very tough. I link up with a Spaniard -- michael who has not one word of English and we eventually hit town at 3.45. The town is long. I have the map in my hand all day but I put it in the rucksack about 6km back and I don't want to stop now to take my bag off to check on Albergue locations -- too bloody tired. I recall there is a religious Albergue near the cathedral. I head for the spire in the distance and there is a Albergue sign in a building attached to the cathedral. I go in. A man and woman both about 70 point to a chair to sit down. I am slow to sit because I am covered in dust and sweat. She puts her hand on my shoulder and pushes me down gently. He asks for my pilgrims password which is stamped in every Albergue. He double checks my last stop and gently says no,no,no this journey is way too much -- I gently agree with him. He introduces himself as Pierre and the lady as Helena. He at length explains every detail of information to me as if I am the only human that has come in. He explains that Helena and himself are volunteers and he then gently puts his hand over a box as if it were red hot and explains that there is no fee but should I afford it I could put some little thing in the box. He explains breakfast is provided. They both radiate grace and humanity and repeat that my happiness is their happiness. He asks if I have any question and I enquire if there is a service in the Catheral tonight which there is. He then hands me over to Helena to be shown the bed. Helena whispers this building was a theatre and I will put you on the stage to night ---- this does nothing for my confidence thinking of a bottle of wine later with a few pints and walking off the stage. She then points to my bed saying this is for you and touches the wall behind it which is the wall of the cathedral and whispers you will be close to god to night -- I think about that and my physical condition and I think naughty thaughts will hardly be on the agenda tonight. She gently touches a pile of blankets and says for you. In at times a cynical old world these are beautiful people. I head for the shower and sure enough Pierrre is on my trail again explaining I will have more space over here in another shower. The floor area in the showers is wet so I become a volunteer for 5 minutes mopping it up. I know no one in this group in this town and there is no English speaking around me anywhere when I go to the recommended restaurant come pub for dinner. I enter the restaurant and my Spanish friend Michael is frantically waving me over. I join the spaniards. He calls me the machine to his friends and they all laugh as he tells them about the distance and our progress to the town. Dinner again perfect for 9 euros. I slug a few pints and my Spanish friend gets very concerned about me --- they drink beer out of a glass like a whiskey glass.
4th Sept Belorado to San Juan later changed to Ages 29.1km
I get up late at 7 as the pressure is off and true to form there on the table of this lovely Albergue is chocolate drinks,milk,beautiful bread and marmalade. Pierre and Helena are present saying good bye to everone - he gently puts his hand on my shoulder to say the forecast is iffy so be careful on the mountains. I head off -- there are strong rises to 1,100 metres early on. I plough on with no stops and sure enough the sky starts to get angrier eventually raining but it is not cold. I pull out my glorious red cape which swings over the bag as well. It does the job perfect --- the last thing you need is a wet bag with your clothes getting wet and the bag weighing 50% more. I am supposed to stop to night according to my guide book at a place called St Juan on the mountains. I arrive there and my preliminary scan of the place is not positive -- well god forgot about the place and the fact that it is pouring adds to the uaigneas -- as gaelige (misery and lonesome) of the place. i am getting worried about the objectivity of my guide book by John Brierley. There is one pub and a few houses. I go into the pub and the publican serves me and others a coffee taking great care not to look at us or say anything. There are no English speakers around and I am wondering what the hell is the story eg where is the Albergue. I put the cape back on and go out and poke around the few houses that are there and finally I see the house that is to be the Albergue --- a notice says it opens at 6pm ---- it is now 1pm. The author of the guide book refers to the monastic atmosphere --- its that all right but I am going to get very high on booze if I stay here. Nothing for but the cape goes on again and I head to the next town called Ages. On the way we enter cattle country with the grids on the paths. I see a big suckler herd on the path ahead -- they look like short horn crosses except they have long horns. They begin crossing the path in front of me and I suddenly see one that looks like a bull ------ yes he is a bloody bull. I chicken out with this glorious red cape and pouring rain or not I whip it off and roll it up just in case this bucko knows anything about bull fighting. We pass each other in peace ---- I suppose he has no energy left as there must be forty ladies in waiting. I arrive at the Albergue -- well it is a little step up from the last hamlet. I walk around. They are building a new house in the village ---- if you built a calf house to this standard at home you would be shot -- the cement has not being cleaned from the joinings between the blocks and there are these big lumps of dried plaster hanging from blocks everywhere. The floor is one mass of broken blocks with copious lashings of dried plaster spilt or splashed all over them. I kind of think if you wanted to set out to create a mess how would you better this.
When I arrived in Pamplona and saw signs that Santiago was 450 odd miles I thought of the Chinese proverb that every journey begins with one step. Tonight I have completed 119 miles so a lot done but more to do. Again big dinner and a bottle of wine for 9 euros. I am eating with a husband and wife from Germany. They are good company and I need it because I am out of friends and the wind is howling through this place------- this was to be their great adventure but their race is run --- she is not able for it any more and I can see the towel coming in from the corner in a day or two. They tell me the story of a German dying and going to heaven. St Peter brings him around to show him the possibilities . They come to a theme park packed with people having a roaring party. German says this is fine . Peter said not yet they are Jews and there are other theme parks for you to see so they come to another theme park and its a roarng party again. Peter says they are Anglicans but I will show you one more. They come to this compound within a 10 foot high wall with hughe doors. Peter cautions the German not to make noise and he shows him the peep hole to look in. This is the greatest party and the German says yes this has to be it but the asks Peter why no noise. Peter says they are catholics and they think they are the only ones up here. I rename the Albergue Chicago after windy city ----- boy the wind howled through it. I have another shot to keep the cold out and the barman gives me one on the house.
5th September Ages to Burgos later to become Tardajos 33 km well over 40 km when you include 3.5 hours walking through and around Burgos
Up early and feet into boots that have not dried but they are good boots and absorb very little water. Its misty. I go hard we pass six village -- one of them is on its last legs called Cardenuela. As if to emphasise the point a poor old lady of 80ish is leading a poor old man She has a grip on his arm and her other hand under his elbow. Evey step he takes requires more effort than a days walking for us so we should stop whinging and get on with life while we have the energy.
These ruins are everywhere on the mountains
I arrive into Burgos to a big sign "your are now entering Burgos" --- its only 10.50 --- I think god that is early and then I try and think what unearthly time did I leave the windy city. The walk in to the centre must be 4/5 km long. A young spaniard in front of me walking towards the city takes off his boots and puts on sandals. I think this is a good idea and I do the same to let the feet cool down. I walk all over Burgos. I ignore the yellow arrows giving you the direct route as I want to explore the side streets also. I call into a humble church and then I go to Burgos Cathedral one of the finest in Europe and it lives up to expectation. On the way to the Cathedral this guy runs up to me shouting Buen Camino, Buen Camino ie (have a good camino) I say gratias but he stays after me. I ignore him as he has no knapsack and I do not know what the story is. Later I sit on the wall by the Cathedral for a breather and who comes up and sits next to me but my new friend Mr Buen Camino . I discover he can speak English. He is Italian . He is on the walk but his shoulder is gone and he cannot go on. He is in bits. I ask him to have a cup of coffee with me which he does. We talk away --- he is based in Zurich. I ask him does he like Zurich and he says not particularly and adds everything their works so perfect and that is the problem. Our coffee is nearly finished when three cyclists on the Camino stop right in front of us --- I point my stick at the bicycles and look at him but he has copped it too --- you can see it in his eyes. I say you can fecking cycle. He jumps up saying I will buy a bicycle. I have read somewhere that you can hire them in one place and drop them in another --- we find tourist information office on the map of the city and he goes off to it a happy man. Burgos is supposed to be my end point to day but I dont feel at home here --- sure the Cathedral is nice but most of the rest of the place could be a suberb of any city any where --- I did not come to the Camino walk in Spain for this so I head for the mountains again. I intended going as far as Rabe but came to a place called Tarjados 3km short of Rabe. I see a lone solitary outpost of an Albergue and it is after 4 and I am going hard for well over 9 hours. I surrender. On the way the swallows were swooping low --- a sure sign of rain and boy did it come. The path out of Burgos was hard to follow as there were little or no signs. I also did not change back into my boots when the track got rough -- a big mistake mostly due to tiredness now. The Albergue was voluntary donation and again we have a great dinner with a bottle of wine and two shots given free all for 9 euros. Tonight we are down to four of us for dinner and that feels a little on the lonesome side. There is the warden, a Canadian woman Margerie who is a bit gittery -- the first Canadian that I have met that was not French Canadian and a guy from Belgium. I ask the Belgium does he have a religion. He gets animated "my wife died of cancer three years ago and I will never never have anything to do with religion again" I leave that one. He later says if the weather continues like this he is going home -- not a very good reason for throwing in the towel I think. The Spanish warden has little English but he managed to get one message across ie he hates the people of Madrid. I was in Barcelona for a city break earlier in the year and again in Barcelona on the tour bus etc there is little or no reference to Spain or Madrid --- the people felt they were from Catalan which is their region. It is a little the same up here in Northern Spain ---- rather than one country its like going through a series of independent republics.
6 Sept Tarjados to Hornillos del Camino later to become Hontanas 24km
I have a problem in a few places -- left shoulder is one but it is now improving but last night my right ankle is a problem and I know why but I hope it is nothing major as I did not wrench it. I start with a limp in the morning but hoping I will work it off after all to day is to be a short hop of 10 km to Hornillos. The ankle improves and I arrive at my destination at 8.50 in the morning -- a quick check and I find out the albergue will not open until 12. Its raining on and off. Nothing for it except bag on back and head for the hills again. I aim for Hontanas. For over two hours on a high plateau I walk through wheat fields as far as I can see in every direction --- no ditches.
These corn fields go on forever -- not a nice place to get lost
This field is on a sloping hillside
Its like the Curragh of Kildare in ireland multiply by 100. There is no house except one fallen one. Not a sinner anywhere --- on the path or in the fields. I am on one path with several paths crossing the path ----- well as they say one of the challenges of the Camino is how happy are you with your own company or can you stand being alone with yourself. This is the bloody moment. Some people cannot hack this and give up after a few days. I kind of think am I going to spend the next three weeks talking to myself as I walk six or seven hours each day and then my reward is to walk into a town where no one speaks English. The armies of walkers of the first few days have dwindled. Where I started is the popular starting point and three days before that in the French Pyrenees is very popular also. I head on and think I have the legs programmed to walk for ever now. I hit town. When I book into the very nice Albergue there is the Canadian girl that was in the company of Fr Neil a few stages back called Judy -- am I glad to see her -- meeting English speakers was becoming a rare event. I discover she is doing a Colm Tobin (Irish writer) type Caminio ie If there is a bus their use it. The Albergue is lovely 6 euros. There are a lot more people here than I expected. It is Saturday evening so I go to 6pm mass in this real quaint church a stones throw from my pub/Albergue. An Italian on the track says mass. He starts late. Then he starts talking to a woman in the front row. He is trying to put a sentence in English together. He makes a right dogs body of it and then he laughs and we all join in. Just before mass I was rejuvinated from my earlier lows and I was alive and well and having crack over a pint with Germans standing at the corner of this bar. This couple in their 60s are looking at me as if to get an opportunity to talk. So I spoke to them ----- from French Quebec again but he is of Irish descent. They are walking for weeks -------- I can feel the over religious zeal and she is looking at me with a little dagger out of the side of her eye --------- she thinks I am not taking this serious enough and I realise I have being loud standing at the corner of this bar having the crack and directing the crack a bit ---- I will avoid this sack cloth company tonight. Pray I will but if Jesus liked the crack and turned water into wine I am with him. I was pleasantly surprised by the numbers of walkers that turn up tonight. About 25% go to mass. Some of the others that do not go to the church including Judy tell me they are spiritual. Delighted to meet my two German friends that I thought would have surrendered. They are Holger and Gertje Schmidt. She walked the whole way today but he carried her bag for the last 2km. Other days he walked and she got the bus for all or part of the route but she explained to me that this would drive you mad after a day or two because you are up early in this tiny hamlet with nothing to do except wait for this bus. I think what is in front of me when my wife mary comes out --- visions of carrying another bag. Gertje tells me her aunts all wanted to come but are too old so they give her a small token donation. I think they will finish it now because this donation creates a sense of commitment.
7th Sept Hontanas to Itero De La Vega 20 odd km
I head off about 7 ish in dark --- thick mist but then as the sun comes up it burns the mist like a lazer. It is beautifull now and I can see the rabbits having a party in the field --- I had that forgotten this is a good time of the day to catch rabbits and also after a wet day.What a difference a day makes the sun is strong and the temp flies up into the 30s again. I am trying to slow down so I will stop and have coffees. I stop in a lovely place called Castrojeriz .
This is Castrojeriz. You can almost smell the coffee.
A welcome sign all along the route is those church spires ---
It says village coming up.
On the road to here walking against us is this eccentric little man of five foot nothing with a blazer and medals pinned up on it. He is very jovial and has an autograph book which he wants everyone to sign which we all do except later I heard one woman refused point blank as she had no opportunity to have coffee so far. After Castrojeriiz there is a mighty climb on to a plateau. On the way up this south facing slope you can see an attempt at afforestation but none seamed to have survived this burning sun -- if I was one of the trees I would surrender to the gods as well. I can see ahead maybe 8km in every direction and it is corn fields -- no house --- no humans. I think if you take a wrong turn here at 35 degrees heat you need to keep the old head. I always try and have a fix on where the nearest road system is. I think that would be my last fall back if I get lost. You could alternativly go for where you think the nearest village is but they are small and sometimes well hidden. It would be hard to miss the road if you had a reasonable idea of where you were and used the sun or your compass to guide you. I see the wind turbines are not even moving its so still. The wind turbines are everywhere but no evidence of big use of solar power. I arrive at destination at 1pm. I take the first Albergue as it is nice -- its a pub come restaurant come Albergue. We walkers may not be gods answer to the economy of these areas but without us there would be nothing or very little. Each evening at 5ish all the farmers and locals come into the pub --they have maybe one beer in this whiskey glass, and they sit down and play dominos for an hour. There is no great difference between them and the guys in any village in Ireland. When they are winning the game they slam the domino piece on the table like a guy would with the winning card in a game of twenty five followed by a howl of beat that. I usually order uno cerveza grande ---a pint and the bar man repeats it again loud enough for some of the jokers at the table to hear -- they look up and laugh as if this guy is from space or John Wayne is in town. Sometimes a free shot is given to me -- they are only about one euro. In our town tonight a man 29 has died -- they say its very sad but do not elaborate. The place is a little unpredictable -- a young guy has just come in and is clearly agitated and has more than his quota of drink taken. I get up after a rest and go to bar for drink before dinner. There is just an old lady there she says take a bottle for now ---everyone is gone to the funeral. The bells start at 7 o clock.We are at the side of the Albergue and cannot see up the road to the church but soon we can hear the crunch of people walking in this old stone road. Funeral passes -- hearse is followed by a person carrying a huge banner --- the bells go on and on as they bury him at 7.30 on a Sunday evening. It was a big funeral 500/700 considering the population in the village of 226. First back up the road from the cemetery is the owner of our place --- he has to make the money when the opportunity presents itself. I hear later the person who died was a university lecturer and he had a heart problem. Four of us have dinner the two Canadian women ,a French woman of at least 70 and myself blessed amongst the women. Most people appear to be in groups or couples and then there are the solo people and I think they are mostly female. To night we all agree the wine is not good and we politely send it back saying we will buy a bottle. The person serving us was nice earlier but he has gone a little bonkey now as well so its time to go to bed and move on from this town.
8th September Itero De La Vegas to Fromista a short hop
A lot of Germans now. They get up religiously at 6 but then hang around ordering things in their bag and reordering things and then coffee. 10km out the road I have left 90% of them behind. I am walking on this plateau 700 to 900 metres above sea. It still is wheat country with some sunflower now turning black (ripe) in colour. Some of these areas are depopulated a lot worse than rural Ireland. I go into a hamlet called Boadillo ---it now has less than 200 people -- down from 2000 and remember almost everyone including farmers live in the village.
Two Japenese girls arrived also --- lovely girls in their 20s. I met them the first day. They had normal luggage bags with wheels. They thought this technology was good and their bags were very heavy and they could not put them on their backs. I met them the next day and they were at the final stages of agony. The nice path to start with of course turns a few hundred metres later to boulders and negotiating up gullys.
You need to be costantly on the alert and organised for the walk eg the drill is the same every morning and every time you stop.
you need to line up everything before you start walking
Water bottle
food
the hat
the stick----- essential
the poncho bag with camera phone compass and essential papers
sun block on face and legs esp outside of left leg and inside of right leg (figure that one out)
The head torch if it is early morning
The maps --- the taught of forgetting that.
Then bag on back --adjust all straps and off you go.
The Albergue
I have got very used to them and have no problem. All the talk about noise etc is over done. If you want to look for problems you will find them eg in the small hamlets the rooster and the dogs start the chorus early followed by church bells. You can curse them or say these sounds have not changed since the Romans marched through here and I am priviliged to experience this moment in time.
Excuse typing and spelling -- I am always in a net cafe running out of time
9th Sept Fromista to Carrion De Los Condes 20km
Woke up at 5.30. There are twelve race horses running across the roof. There is a thunder and lightening display. The sky is bright with flashes and the thunder becomes deafening. Its flashes everwhere --- sort of twenty a go. I think I will lie low as thunder storms pass over fairly quickly. True to form the Germans are all on the floor at 6 am. I get up at 7 and I am ready to go at 7.30. Two German women are waiting at the door. One puts her head out and comes back in saying "pissing " ------- some words are the same (I checked that out later). I head off as I have very good gear --- a jacket to withstand off shore storms and a cape which covers that and the rucksack. I have no sympathy for myself. It dries after an hour. I take off the rain gear. I dont think I will use pull ups again as my trousers underneath them was soaking with perspiration so they might as well be soaking with rain -- its hot rain at this time of the year so its not a problem as it dries off quickly. I arrive at destination at 11.30 and seek out my special Albergue next to Santa Maria church. I am fifth.. A lady takes down all the details from the pilgrims passport like where did you start and a new question to day -- what age are you. A french man with the black berry in front of me has no problem venturing 69. When I finish the details this man of about 28 glides up to me. He says I am here to help you --- your bed is here, The kitchen is there, the toilets and showers are there, the washing machine is here but you can wash by hand if you wish and hang them out here. He speaks softly and as if I am again the only human being in the world. Peace and tranquility flows out of his face. The town was beautiful. I get my own dinner to night for a change and then go to a quite bar for a pint. The format is the same ----- lots of families turn up having the equivalent of a wine glass of beer and a chat and then home. One husband and wife of about 40ish with three kids sit next to me. I try to figure out his job. He has big hands,and a big belly with jeans hanging at half mast and two pockets strained as if there were nuts and bolts in the pockets. I think he is a jcb driver or a lorry driver..
10th September De Los Condes to Terradillos de Templarios 26.8km
I awaken to gentle music at 5.30. The music gradually gets louder --- it sounds like Spanish hymns. You again could be mad at this as an irritation or treasure the moment. I thought it was beautiful. Bag on back and torch on head and ready to go before 7 but not before the female warden gives me a hug and hands me a prayer plus a little paper cut out star. I go like the hammers of hell to stay ahead of the sun. I arrive at my destination very early at 12 o clock . The last hour was hard --- it was well up in the 30s. I have sympathy with anyone well back on the track. I have passed the girls from the Italian group that have the gps and the two big male leaders are a few hundred metres in front of me. I try to catch them but fail. We come to a private albergue just outside of town. The Italians opt for it and I follow. There is a new choice today when I book in -- its six euros if you go for dormitory or eight for a room of four. I see no advantage for me in a room of four and opt for the dormitory. I have a bit of crack with the Italians. To day I have travelled the equivalent distance of from Skibbereen in Co Cork (my home town of birth) to Dublin. The distance left is the same as sending me back to Skibbereen again and asking me to go to Dublin one more time and a few miles with it. I am in the dormitory when the warden comes in shouting Mr Murphy --- she frightened the daylights out of me as I thought there might be a problem. She wanted me to go out to reception to meet Judy the Canadian girl who had called for me. Judy and a whole bunch of others were in the other albergue in town and wanted me to join them for dinner. I of course oblige and eat with all ladies --- one from Japan -- she drinks wine like water, one from Canada -- we have lost the other Canadian Margorie, One girl Noreen from Galway- one from Seol S Korea, one from the Netherlands. There is a shortage of men walking alone. This town was a stronghold of the Knights Templar who wore a special tunic and were created to watch over the pilgrims as they were often attacked by bandits. Noreen from Galway says there are nine of them in family all unmarried --- she jokes that her father says they are like sheep and if he can get one of them through the gap then maybe the others will follow.
11th September Templarios to El Burgo Ranero around 30km
Wheat country. You can see the yellow signs confirming
this is the right route --- not always as clear as this
I need to make up one more day so I start today by going on a detour past the recommended stop. Only problem with jumping ahead is I lose the group that had got together and that is the second group I have lost so I now move into a strange town again knowing no one but that is it. We are now in the Province of Leon which is rich. My big question is how far I can travel tomorrow. The sunflowers are now bowed over and turning black waiting to be harvested. Met a nice brave girl in her mid twenties from Luxembourgh travelling all on her own. We are not on the recommended route now as we are side stepping the recommended town and jumping ahead a little. Mid twenties is about as young age wise as it gets on the trail. The girl from Luxembourgh walked around the same pace as me and sometimes I was behind her and sometimes just in front of her depending on who stopped for a drink or a few minutes rest. There was nobody else and I was afraid she might think I was stalking her because it went on like that for 15 km. Eventually I stop at a forgotten sort of shebeen in Bercianos for a coffee and who comes in the door but the girl from Luxembourgh so I go straight up to her and talk to her about our paths crossing all day. She asks if it will rain and I say with the greatest confidence no and she explains she has lost her rain gear. Her name is Sylvia and she is delighted that I have being to Luxembourgh and that I understand the country . She says people usually say what part of Belgium is that? I leave and a half a km up the road it starts to rain so nothing for it but to wait for her and I give her a lend of my cape as I have a good jacket. She was happy.
Good dinner --on my own then joined by another Canadian woman that I had seen on the trail. She is a journalist and wants my log. She is suffering badly. I ask her what made her do the walk and she said oh! a moment of madness --- I did not pursue this. I get a pint and a half pint before dinner and get lovely olives with the pint and a nice piece of bread and cheese with the half pint. That is standard practice in a lot of places.
Often you were all alone. I was alone walking most of the time
as I walk fast and I dont like hanging around wondering if the
big toe needs powdering
12 Sept El Burgo to Leon 40 km
This is a big day. I am on the road at 7am. It is bitter cold and black dark. The girl from Luxembourgh left about 15 minutes before me me with no rain gear. There is nowhere to hide for at least 12km in this track and if it rains in this temp she is in big trouble--- but luckily it does not rain. I want to go like mad because it is a very long day and Leon is a big city and to get the Benedictine Albergue in the town centre I dont want to be late. I reckon on 3 o clock arrival. Because I am on a kind of unofficial route to start the signs are almost non existent in places and the heart misses a beat when I see no one else for a spell. Then along comes a real fast Spaniard and my prayers are answered -- we play games. I let him go in front and then I go on his heals -- he goes ahead 30 metres and when his concentration drops 1km later I move up a gear and catch him again before he realises it to his disgust. We move very fast and this goes on for 20km when he drops out for a coffee bar. I am way ahead of schedule and arrive in Leon at 1.30. In the past few days I pass a Japanese man in his 70s after about 10km --- he goes very slow so he must start early. He never stops for a break in a coffee bar but has bread or something in his pocket which he munches away. He has no English except "hello" and "happy". Today I pass him after 20km. I think he is doing the same journey as me and started at some un earthly hour --- true to form I see him in the Albergue later and give him a pat in the back and he smiles mad and says hello.This last 10km into Leon was supposed to be a nightmare according to the guide books as you were walking on the side of a motorway. For that reason most people got a bus. I was tempted but I had no problem with traffic and I continued on walking. We certainly were going at quickmarching speed all the journey. I get into the Benedictines in the centre of the city without having to make one enquiry. Its a voluntary donation again. I walk around the city and the Cathedral -- It is incredible beautiful. Logrono and here I would come back to. Burgos had a beautifull Cathedral but the rest of it could be any city. The Benedictine place has this lovely courtyard. There are 160 sleeping here tonight and even with those numbers the wardens are very pleasent. On leaving to go out for the night I notice the walls are far too high to climb in an emergency and the door is even more depressing --- about 10 ft high and 1 foot thick. My eye luckily catches a notice --doors close at 9.30 --- I would have assumed 10 o clock oops.. I come back about 9.20 and I am nearly run over by a bunch of women running and shouting -- they are afraid of closed doors. I wake up at 3 because I was drinking pints to night and need a walk to the jacks. I had stopped counting how many were in the room but 40 plus. I had read all these night mare stories about snoring but I have never bothered to use my ear plugs. To night the snoring is like the continuous sound of traffic. If it was one person snoring it might irritate you but there are so many they all merge into this chorus briefly interupted now and again by a snort above the average as someone heaves over in the bed ---- it could be a lot worse. I get up in the moring. In the toilet a young guy rushes out of a cubicle his hands up to heaven saying no papel (paper) . Lesson number one carry a reserve of everything and assume not too much.
13th September Leon to Vilar de Mazarife 23km
It is flashing 7 degrees as we leave Leon --not as cold as yesterday. I start the day with a nice young German. I ask him why so many Germans on the trail -- maybe 40%. He says a Germam commedian did the trail and wrote a book which is a best seller for the last few years. I ask if religion enters into it and he says no in majority of cases. I just wonder about all this with us all staying in these religious houses that at best want a simple donation and staffed by volunteers -- I think they are being exploited a bit but I am sure they have thought this through. Most of the Germans are fine but right in front of us yesterday one pulls his trousers down and does a number one. I stopped a few hundred metres further on where there was a seat for a rest and who sits there near me except the same German. I think will he introduce himself and want to shake hands. Even in Leon -- a big city the rooster was making noise this morning. We are in high ground to day -- around 1000 metres -- some scrub land --- some cattle --- some corn and then an enormous field of sugar beet being irrigated. There are two pubs in Mazarife when we arrive and you can hear the noise coming from them twenty metres away -- full of people at 1 pm all with their little drinks and all in animated conversation. Eveyone smokes also. I did not see my Japanese friend today. I can pick him out from behind at 50 metres -- he is bent sideways and has an orange water bottle swinging from his right side. I eat tonight with a 66 year old canadian Robert Irwin --originally Northern Ireland stock and a 76 year old American lady called Mary. Robert is opinionated and a bit of a pain. He keeps telling me what people bought him en route -- I will watch the purse strings tonight. Mary is for the birds. She is walking a few days and goes only short distances. She has only figured out to day what the yellow arrows are about. I will be watching the buzzers tomorrow to see if they are circleing waiting for food which reminds me those big stork birds have nests on the roof of every church. The nests are as big as African mud huts. Mary is into politics -- she thinks half the American people are very stupid -- yes you guessed it its the half that does not vote the way she thinks they should vote. I go to mass and pray for everyone. The flower display in the church as it was last week is out of this world. 70% of the congregation are female -- where are you guys. There are only about ten from the trail out of say 70 in town at mass---- if god seams so far away I wonder who has moved. I see my first guy on the trail on horse back tonight. If you look up any side street in this village you will see rows of tractors .
14th September Mazarife to Astorga 30 plus kilometers
I am not going to be caught short of food on Sunday. Last Sunday nothing was open early on for grub. I have my statutory big orange for breakfast and I smuggled a spoon up from the bar because I have two youghurts also. I head off in the dark having checked the trail out of town last night. First problem is I forget to put on my head lamp. It is buried in the bag and I think it will take too long to open everything up again. Twenty minutes later I feel very alone and there are no reassuring yellow marks. I wonder if I missed a turn but I can see the sun trying to rise behind my left shoulder and I know I am generally going in the right direction which is verified later when I come to two bridges marked on my map. Second mild tremmor is I put my hand into my trousers pocket and there is the poor land ladys spoon. The best she will get from me now is a prayer. It is a glorious Sunday morning. I arrive in Hospital de Orbigo 15km down the track at 9.50. The church bells are ringing and the ladys are purposely stepping it out towards the church with the odd one of the male variety trailing sheepishly behind. There is this beautiful historic arched bridge which we cross.
The bridge in Hospital de Orbigo
The cafes are open all right advertising all kinds of tempting things but I resist as I like to get well into the second half of the journey before I stop for anything. There is something to do with cycling in the town and lots of young people are out cyling in their high colour outfits. There is one place where the cyling shirts are displayed over the bicycles and the mammies and aunts are all trying to get photos -- they obviously won something.
I continue on and there in a ditch sitting is my Japanese friend chewing away and we exchange greetings. I pass within a half mile of a tiny hamlet called Santibanez de Valdeiglesia and the church hymns can be heard clearly across the country. I stop at a junction to eat half a roll left over from yesterday and a lump of cheese. Several walkers pass including the Japanese guy. This is the second time he has passed me like this at a junction and each time he will look for a sign and then put his foot forward very carefully as if it might be cut of and he will look back at me for reassurance. I will nod and he will nod back. I finish the grub and head off passing the Japanese man. I am about thirty metres in front of him walking on the side of the road but I have missed a sign for a path running parallel to the road and then there are screams from behind me from the Japanese man that could be heard in the Imperial Palace in Japan. I turn around and there he is pointing like mad at the sign -- his moment has come. I go back nod to him and give him the thumbs up. His little face is alive. In the last 4km I meet up with my young German friend again. His name is Jochen Saier and he works developing players with a team called Sc Friedburg. It is very demanding job timewise. He trained for a year and a half in America and had a coach from Dublin teaching him. The name of the German author that wrote the best seller on the Camino walk is Hape Kircling. Astorga looks beautiful. The Albergue is four euros. I have had no temptation of any kind to book an habitachion (a room) for a night. I like the buzz of the Albergue. I have now changed my drinking habits and I find the small beer in the wine glass very good. You can be there for two hours before dinner sipping three or four of them and you have only drank a pint. Even the net is free in this hostel. I can see a huge range of mountains encircling us in the far west -- they are like the Wicklow or Kerry mountains except higher. Me thinks it is O Cebreiro mountain range that I will be crossing next week. The countryside today had enormous fields of Maize and beet. All this part of Spain has surprised me totally. Agriculture looks very good and on a huge scale; their infrastructure and roadways are superb and the people look prosperous -- there is almost a swagger in their stride.
I cannot believe today that it is 262 miles gone and 188 to go. I thought in the beginning this would go on for ever. I had a brandy after the meal tonight 2 euros for a big brandy.
15th September Astorga to Rabanal de Camino 21km
We are now going into mountain territory above the height of Lug Mountain in Ireland . The guide book says beware and make sure your clothes are good enough etc. Its a beauty day however for the walk. I head off with my German friend and clarify with him again what percentage of Germans are here for a religious reason. He is not sure but maybe 50% have a spiritual reason. Very quickly we are in sparrow and snipe country -- the corn fields have gone and heather becomes the vegetation with scrub. No sign of peat but I presume the heat will not allow the moisture to linger. It gets finer as we go and there are a lot on the trail today. My German friend pushes me on ahead as I am quicker. At about 17km I meet my old reliable -- the Japanese man. This is about the seventh day our paths cross which is most unusual. He is photographing the heathers. I think maybe I can get closer to him. I have never seen him walk with or be in conversation with anyone but I have great respect for him because of his age and condition. I ask if I can take a photograph of him. He nods. I take out my note book and pencil and ask him to write his name. He writes it Yasuro Oyama and he then pronounces it. I introduce myself and we shake hands. I ask where he is from and he replies a city in central Japan. He asks where I am from and I say Irelanda and he says you Irish -- I think wait a minute this guy is like the chief in one flew over the cuckoos nest --- he had only two European words up to now hello and happy and now he is opening up. I ask him why he does the walk and he says that is very difficult. I think he has dried up as I walk along with him and eventually he spurts out I am a Budhist and I also respect Christians --- silence then he turned to me and said "I try to find myself". Then he says to me you need to go now. He does know I walk much faster but I think he wants to be alone anyway. Arrive at Albergue and I want to stay at the religious one because the volunteers are so nice but it does not open for another two hours so I go to a very modern private albergue for 5 euros. I buy a bit of grub in the village and sit on one of the many seats to eat it. There are four elderly ladys and an elderly man all well dressed in different seats talking to each other. They all share equally in the talk even if the man talks louder and more demonstratively --it all looks so civilised but then the weather helps. I go up to the church for religious service at 7pm from two German monks. They never turn up --- there was some party the night before and someone says they have sick heads. The laiety should take these responsibilities over. There are about fifty people waiting including my German friend and the two young English girls who come up and ask me if I have eaten. They had prepared their own spagetti and had buckets left over which I gladly accepted and then bought them a drink. The Japanese man is in my Albergue tonight. He goes to bed in the afternoon after the walk and now while I am at the bar before dinner time he comes running out. I point to the beer and say beer to him. He points to his mouth and says no no food food. He goes back to bed shortly after eating. I have met a lot of people who have said the challenge was far bigger than they had thought but here is this frail small old man conserving every ounce of energy for the next day. He is my inspiration if I think my big toe is hurting. I get free drink in the bar because I bring the overflow from the other Albergue to my Albergue. The other Albergue had a beautiful Australian lady of about 70 as warden. She approached me earlier in the day in the village and asked where I was staying. She still invited me up to her albergue even though I was not staying their for tea at 4pm. I helped her with the washing and she gave me a tour of the place showing me eg where she would put the horses for the people arriving on horse back etc. She also explained that sometimes she had young individuals who opted to do the walk as part of a sentence for committing a crime. They were obviously accompanied by a warden but this lady had no time for the lack of effort of the wardens.
16th September Rabinal to Molinaseca 27km
This is one of the real high days. I am on the road before 7 am. No need of a torch today as there is a full moon.
Navigating by moonlight 7am
The suns first effort 7.30am
The climb was challenging but presented me with no problems.The scenery is stunning --- I would fly out for this day on its own.. We reach the high point where there is a tall cross surrounded by a mount of stones. I was supposed to bring a stone from home for a special petition here. I put in an Irish coin as first sub. We pass a series of deserted villages like Manjarin. Manjarin and a lot of the other villages suffer from a severe dose of sceirdiulacht (isolation).
There are just two scrawney suckler herds of eight to ten cows on the route. It looks as if all the young people have gone to the valleys and the big cities. I take extra care going down the mountain as it is steep and hard on the knees. The sun gets very very hot at 11am and I need a break which is early for me. A bunch of us stop at this tiny shop in a stunning village called Acebo.The poor lady starts to run out of everything even the coffee. Himself (the husband) is consigned to bringing the cups of tea /coffee out to us as we are sitting on outside seats --- I suppose there is more money in this than the eight sucklers. I reach destination around 1pm but I know I have had a tough push.
As I arrive there is excitement everywhere as the tour of Spain cycle is just about to pass through town. It was great. These Spaniards sure take cycling very serious. I meet up with the old reliables my German friend Jochen. the two English girls Emily Duggan and Tanya Meditzky, a lovely Spaniard called Gregoro who had two rogueish eyes and Robert fron Canada that I thought was over opinionated and he was accompanied by a smaller and very assertive Canadian Pierre. I think first I may be wrong about Robert but no -- in no time it was obvious that Pierre and himself were not getting on --- both wanted attention and both wanted to speak and wanted the other to show respect by listening so eventually when we move in to eat they sit apart. We are all talking in twos or threes -- Emily told me that she thinks her father is from Galway. Whatever happened to roots but her father was one of nine chidren and in hindsight he must have left Ireland when he was very young. Then suddenly Pierre calls us all to attention. What do you guys work at he asks. We all mutter something and then with a wave of two hands he says can you guess my occupation. We all venture something being careful to keep our guess on par or above what he might be. Emily however ventured a park ranger which I think fell short of his expectations. After too much pause he ventures I am a judge yes a very responsible positition etc etc and I am here because I need to take some time out. It was a bit of good crack and we had a good night. When we got back at 9.30 most people were in bed again -- some night me thinks I will upset this obsession with sleeping. It was a beautiful town with narrow pedestrian streets.
17 September Molinaseca to Villafranca Del Bierzo 31 km
Headed off before 7am. Sun got roasting again. You could fry an egg on a stone. I did a few detours one of which I got rather worried about as again I was totally alone -- I just appeared to be wandering aimlessly through one vineyard after another with big bloody climbs but coming towards the end I meet this young German girl who says boy am I glad to see you as I thought I was totally lost as that path went on for ever. I reached my destination at 1pm. When I was negotiating one of the detours early on in the dark I was with a German couple I had not seen before and we conflabbed on verifying our position several times. They were quite confident with finding their way. When I arrived at the destination at lunch time I came across a beautiful Albergue overlooking the town. I booked in without question washed, had a rest and went down town at 4pm to internet cafe and it was down town because the albergue was up on this hill and the town was quite near but sort of straight down underneath us. In town I meet the German couple from this morning coming into town --- the heat was intense. They are both in bits. I think they went wrong somewhere --- the confidence was all gone for now and they are both talking together so even though they had good English I could not figure out what precisely happened. They want to know where the Albergue is and I bring them to it --- more difficult than it sounds as you wind up side streets stepping up and up and up like up a circular staircase. Its my birthday today. That becomes a little problem because I laze around for the evening not doing too many checks. The usual suspects appear in the main square Plaza Maior . We order our meal 10 euros here for a three course with wine. Then they tell me they have being looking for me and present me with a bunch of roses for my birthday -- very nice of them. At 7 o clock I had noticed the Canadian woman that was an editor entering town. She is in bits again -- 12 hours on the road. she said her feet had become part of her boots. Every bed in town is nearly gone. They even sleep on the corridor. While we are eating a Chinese guy in his twenties goes past with torn Jeans -- torn jacket etc. I saw him before on the route. He could be a down and out or a hippy type more probably the latter I think. One of the girls as observant as ever says are not they the same clothes he wears all the time. Then Jochen my German friend has a confession -- he slept near him one night --- not alone are the clothes the same but he sleeps with them on as well like everything boots and all. I suppose it is unusual.
18th September Villafranca to O Cebreiro 31km to become 40 by default
This the books say is the hardest day. A big sign in O Cebreiro boasts 1300 metres above sea level. The climb is all in the last 6km and it goes from 600 metres to 1300 in those 6km. I am up early but lack of preparation means I am reduced to a square of cheese and a half glass of milk salvaged in the kitchen for breakfast. Its fine. Now I want to head off about 6.30 but the batterys are gone in my lamp and I have one hour of darkness. I loiter at the door fiddling with my bag waiting to chase someone who leaves with a lamp. Two people arrive I slam bag on back and follow them.
Above the clouds as we leave O Cebreiro 1300 metres high
They are a disaster -- they cannot see the signs and I cannot shout out left you blind bastards. I drop them and look for someone with more drive. Two more emerge but they drop off the trail for a cafe 100 metres later. Then comes two more Germans -- they are fine but very cautious in route checking and need reassurance. Everything goes well and I am flying it. I do not want to be at the bottom of this mountain too late. I have learned another trick -- the yellow direction arrows try to bring you into every street in every village -- I presume local councillors at work --- a kind of of course this town will cooperate with signs for the Camino walk etc as long as the signs direct them past my pub. I in my wisdom think I have beaten this and can find the short way every time. It works on three occasions. I reach Herrerias which is at the bottom of the mountain 24 km into the journey at 10.30 without a stop for even a drink of water. This is great time and the temptation was great in route with lots of lovely cafes and familiar faces from the walk inviting you in. I find this hidden hotel and treat myself to a most beautifuul sandwitch and a coffee leche grande -- a big one with milk. I head off at 10.50 and reckon I should make it to the top by 12.30 but I am in the mood for daring as I am so early. My experiment with a short cut does not work and I reach a kind of dead village the name of which is not on the map. Its so dead I would be afraid to knock on any door. The first two weeks I would have retraced my steps but not to day. I check and recheck everything like the direction I am going and my position relative to major roads. I am generally going in the right direction but only just about. I appear to be on the wrong side of a major road and a highway. The highway goes in and out of tunnels and then crosses valleys on stilts hundreds of metres high. I think crossing this may present some challenges. I decide to stay going and figure the worst thing that can happen to me is I will end up in another village in the right general direction and I can sort it out tomorrow -- it will be an experience at worst. My map is useless for this purpose as it has no detail off the trail. I will have proper maps in future. Things get quieter and quieter as I go up and up - no walkers in sight now for two and a half hours -- at least I know its me that is wrong. I come to another dead village El Castro -- how appropriate. Eventually where two paths cross up ahead in the middle of no where a cyclist appears and he stops looking at his map. I give him a shout and go over to him. He is a big German. I tell him I want to check my position on his map and verify with him where we are -- which we do. I have the bunch of flowers from my birthday in my hand because they fell out of my rucksack (I had them on display peeping out of the top of the rucksack). He says he has not seen a walker for ten maybe fifteen km. He looks at my bunch of flowers smiles and goes off at 100km per hour. It was only then that I noticed my artificial flowers are more pink than red. I must have looked a bit odd in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of pink flowers on display. 6km of gruelling climbing later and I reach the most incredible village of O Cebreiro -- my destination. Its after 2pm. I zig zagged and walked half way around the bloody mountain before climbing -- another day of 40 km just for a dare but it was fun and the scenery absolutely stunning. The motorway was passable as it went into a long tunnel and my path went over it.
This was part of the final climb up to O Cebreiro
When I was trying to get to my destination at one stage I crossed a border crossing going from the region of Castilla V Leon to Galicia -- another indication that broadly I was on the right road. The problem of course is my destination could be a quarter mile across the valley but to get there you might have to go down the valley 7km and up the other side another 7km.There is a shop in the village as I enter with music the sound of which could be from a music shop in Killarney Ireland. Welcome back to celtic lands and all their emblems and designs look very similar to the celtic designs from the Kilkenny design shop in Dublin. I should be having a rest after all the effort but that would be a sin in this village. I get my Albergue bed which is in the far side of the village. I get myself a beer at a nice strategic location where I can see all the tired walkers coming into the village and I can direct them to the Albergue as everyone appears to be going around in a circle trying to find it. The weather changes rapidly from 30ish degrees down to real cold . We are a bit above the clouds and these huge pillars of cloud come across the valley and are caught in air currents which distort them and contorts them in to all sorts of shapes -- its like a ghost fairy land. I wonder do they have ghosts here. I meet the German couple that arrived in distress yesterday and they are all perky again --- amazing what a shower/a few pints and a good nights rest can do to morale. I am going out alone to dinner and who comes up but my Japanese friend so nothing for it we both go to dinner together. He wants to go into the first place which does not look the best but I run with it. A sign outside the door says pilgrims dinner 9 euro which is standard. When we go in the menu looks different and I check it with the young uninterested waitress and she says similar so i think that is good enough for me. The Japanese man has his head stuck in the menu and the starters are priced around 3.50 euros and main courses around 7.50. His fingure moves slowly up and down the menu for an eternity whilst the young waitress stands there eyes glazed and rolling up and down. Eventually he has made the discovery and announces the sum of the parts not equal to total. I make a gesture that it will be ok and he agrees. There was no problem. He is a mechanical engineer . He has a wife and one daughter married in Paris. At the first opportunity after the meal he gets up bows a little and scurries off to bed. I meet the German couple again and they recommend an oozo --- its lovely. I meet a Dawson couple from Belfast. They are hooked on the Camino comig back again and again. The sleep goes fine --48 in the room --you would not want to have a dislike for your fellow human beings here. I call the room Stalag 17 after the prisoner of war camp where they were cramped in a room. I always sleep until about 4ish and that is fine from 10 the night before.
19th September O Cebreiro to Triacastela
This is to be an easy day so I am going to treat myself with coffees and plenty breaks --I start with a peach for breakfast. No more wild experiments for a day or two anyway. I am three weeks plus on the trail now and this is my last free day---- my wife arrives tomorrow -- she will need to bring a spancel (used to tie the legs of giddy cows while you were hand milking them) to tie my legs to slow me down. I am short a few things now like a small towel ( I lost the one I had and I am using a t shirt to dry myself) -- I could do with a jumper -- it was freezing yesterday evening and I could do with a non stick shirt -- the one I had is gone. I inform my wife re these shortages. The scenery is out of this world. For the first half of the walk we are above the clouds. Amazing the difference 100km makes in relation to the type of farming. I was in the land of big modern machines 100 km back the track. I am now back in the land of Ireland in the 60s with small tractors/ploughs/harrows/zigzags etc. The dairy herds look very small -- ten to fifteen cows with the lovely sound of the bells arond the neck. I go into a few farm yards ( straying off the path deliberately again). In one farm the cows are on the bottom floar with the dwelling over the cattle. The dogs look as if they are a kind of a cross between an Alsatian and a sheep dog. I arrive at destination at 1 o clock. There are four albergues in town and for the lark I decide to go to the last one but when I arrive it looks like a falling down calf house -- the slates are all loose etc -- this is quite common however with houses around here. A lot of them have a row of stones along the bottom tiles to try and keep the whole thing together. It looks awful. I am between two minds about this albergue --should I turn back but out comes the the ban an tig and invites me in to a wonderland of old rafter beams --very wide floar board etc -- it really is beautiful 7 euros - great. Last night was 3 euros so I think I am entitled to this upgrading of over 100% increase in price. I discovered last night when I was talking to someone that the poor old bulls are colour blind and all this stuff about the red cape representing blood etc is a load of old bull. I go out to get a picture of the town and meet up with one of the English girls Tanya who gracious as ever says they are in another Albergue and are cooking dinner in the Albergue this evening and I am invited to join which I accept -- a great pasta with plenty left over after stuffing ourselves but in come two lovely young german guys from Munich who are cycling Munich to Santiago -- we offer them the grub and they murder it. Outside the door I meet a couple from Amsterdam -- they are well into their 60s -- they are on bicycles looking for a bed. They have already cycled 2000 miles. I tell them the Albergue is full. It is 8pm and I ask them what they will do if they cannot get an Albergue bed --- keep going until we get one was the simple answer. We go for a drink. The two English girls tell me they are making up a board game on the Camino and inform me that I am part of it -- the fast walking kind uf guy -- I dont know about this. They ask for the address of my internet sit and I strike a bargain in the end if they give me an outline of the board game I will give them the address.
20th September triacastela to Sarria
They fed me and were my companions. From left Jochen
Tanya,myself and Emily
