Quiet

Villafranca to Herrerias (Tuesday, June 22nd)
We left Villafranca early and ended up taking the optional path, along the road, without even realizing it. We simply missed the preferred path because you really had to look for the trail where it branched off. However, because of that, we had a really lovely view back over Villafranca shortly after leaving. It almost looked like a fairy tale village caught in the mists of time, between the mountains.

This was actually the one segment of the journey that I was very apprehensive about because of one of the books that I had read before leaving for this trip. One of the authors had talked about this segment as having two options - either a very steep and difficult climb through the hills or else along the highway, pinned quite narrowly between speeding vehicles and a guardrail with a 50´dropoff. Fortunately, much has changed since that book was written - perhaps because of it! The steep climb was the route we inadvertantly missed. And in the last two years, the government has built this engineering marvel called the autopista, the Spanish version of the autobahn, that has taken almost all of the traffic away from the highway which we are traveling. Perched on concrete props way high in the air, with just little, itsy bitsy guard rails for safety, it's a road that would terrify me to drive on. I am, however, delighted that it draws so much traffic away from us hikers! In addition, they have erected concrete barriers to separate pilgrims from cars, which are not traveling all that fast now - it's the "Sunday" drivers who don't mind taking the slower route who are on this road. Often, the river is running over the rocks down below us in a nice bubbly way. And there is a guard rail on that side as well. It's a delightfully sunny day as we wind our way through the hills on either side of us.

There are some neat little villages and stops along the way - we stop for one break in the little village of Trabadelo, where the only business seems to be the bar. For such an out-of-the-way place, it has a pretty nice bathroom! In another village, we stop to watch a sawmill in operation. Stella takes pictures for her husband, David, who works with a lumber yard.

Another rest break is at a real truck stop where a school group is also breaking, so there are lots of kids. One thing that is hard to get over as we walk through the cafe/bar to use the facilities is the amount of trash and litter that just gets thrown on the floor. You cannot possibly walk across the floor without walking on the napkins, cigarette butts, straw wrappers and other miscellaneous items. It almost covers the floor, especially around the stools. No one uses the trash can, and no one leaves it on the counter! It's just amazing to American eyes. We look around a gift shop that has lots of interesting products, food and otherwise, from all over Spain. They're fascinating, and some are even enticing (like the cheeses, the chocolates, the nuts, the wine...), but way too heavy to carry, so we leave with nothing. Except on the edge of the parking area is another vendor of fresh cherries. This is the best buy yet, a humongous bag of cherries for just one euro! We indulge yet again. Instead of being a threatening day, it is a quite enjoyable day!

We share a number of kilometers on our journey with Ian, a 62 year old Danish accountant, who has decided to get away for awhile. (That's him up ahead in this picture before we catch up to him at a break.) He is fun to talk to. Like a number of our foreign encounters, he asks what we think of our president. He also talks about how the Danish provide for their people in many ways. It´s a whole different way of looking at life - and what it means to be in community as a nation and a people.

We reach Herrerias by early afternoon. The alburgue isn´t open yet, but it looks cute with its hand-decorated "shutters" - actually just the rocks painted to look like shutters, so we go put our feet in a mountain creek - it is SO COLD! My feet can take about 2 seconds, but Stella´s are made of tougher stuff apparently. I work on labeling some of my pictures on my computer instead, just in case I ever get to load them on this blog or for viewing later. Eventually, we get into the alburgue. A young, lithesome Spanish woman named Miriam runs the place. She nonchalantly says we can check in later and mentions that she does a vegetarian dinner from her own garden if we´re interested and we indicate that we are. She shows us to our bunks. Then she disappears for a long while. So we get cleaned up, take a nap, go wander. Eventually others come. We meet Richard, Miriam´s American significant other. Richard is from Chicago. He was running a nightclub when someone pulled a gun on him one night. He decided that he no longer wanted that life. He bought a one-way ticket for Madrid. While he was there, he heard about the Camino and decided he needed to do it. Seems while he was walking the Camino last year, he was walking through Herrerias and Miriam caught his eye - ooh lah lah! He stayed four months. Then he decided he needed to finish the Camino. But he came back and they realized they had missed each other so much that he´s been there ever since. If you could see this little village that has no stores, just two little bar-cafes and this alburge, a handful of houses, some barns and a church, cows bawling and roosters crowing at all times of day and night, you would have just a small taste of how much Richard´s life has changed. Now he wants to try and help change his brother's life the same way.

Around 5 p.m. I ask Miriam what time dinner will be and she just looks at me funny and says, "Oh, you should have told me!" We thought we had. Oddly enough, some Spanish guys who came in just before I asked her did end up getting dinner, but it probably worked out as it needed to. So we wander a half mile down the road to the only other place to eat, the place where we had lunch. The walls are pretty much the exact shade of periwinkle that I am thinking of painting my kitchen. (While we are gone, Stella's sweetheart of a husband is completely redoing her kitchen!) We are early for dinner, so we have a glass of the local white wine at a cafe table outside. The fat, lazy cat lounges near us.

Martene, a French woman we have walked with and been keeping pace with on and off joins us for dinner. It is a deep and touching conversation, a sense of communion, of truly breaking bread together. As we have with so many other pilgrims, we talk about what has drawn us to the Camino and what it has been like for us. This is Martene's second time to walk it. There is a sense of mystery and darkness or sadness about her, though she is happy tonight. We talk about redemption and forgiveness and second chances and we toast to them. There are tears and smiles. We have an absolutely wonderful dinner with the best paella yet. It has a little zing to it, which the others have not had, and clear, distinct flavors. Then, I ordered fish, and actually eat the little fishies that came out of the stream that cows drink out of (and you know what in) and certain people have soaked their feet in. Didn´t really think I´d eat fish that came with their heads on, but - thanks to Stella's coaching - once I get past just cutting the heads off and pushing them aside and pretending they aren´t there, it is fine. I probably have all kinds of chemicals in me from the fish I´ve eaten out of local streams over here, and from the roadside cherries we´ve bought, but you know, it has all tasted very good. And you only go around once. Maybe the local beer and wine have killed those local germs.

After dinner, we walk through town, which is to say, we walk back and forth down the one real street. Martene has talked about a house that she is interested in buying. Apparently, when a house is listed privately, the Spanish would rather see the property crumble to dust, or eventually be turned over to a relative rather than sell to a foreigner - or at least some foreigners (like Americans). They do not like intruders in their little villages. Martene is a dreamer, and it's doubtful that she will ever really buy a house in Herrerias. She stops to peer in the darkened doorway of a dilapidated house, and both a man's voice and chickens cackling shoo her away! At some point, Martene drifts off into a conversation with a local. We pass this artful composition, and I can't help but smile and take a picture. There are cows down in the pasture, perhaps 75 yards away from the alburgue. For once, we have a window open all night for fresh air. Who knew that cows can bawl so loud? The next time you hear "Äway in a Manger", when they get to the part about the 'cattle are lowing,' just know that they can make one heck of a noise, and it isn´t always some gentle lullaby for the Christ Child! But it´s kind of nice. In a very earthy, down-home kinda way. Mooooo-ooo-ooo.