Sabbath

Carrion to San Nicholas (Saturday, June 12th)
Stella and I decided we had had three days of walking in cold and wind and rain and that was enough. So after debating a bit this morning, and looking up at the sky, we bought bus tickets from Carrion to Terradillos, about 27 km. The bus wasn´t leaving until 12:45, so we had hours to walk around and explore Carrion, a really neat little town. It is about 2500 people, though it used to be 10,000. However, there is new construction going on, so it must be growing again. It is located on a river and has a beautiful park and river walk. We walked out to San Zoilo, an old monastery that is now a shi-shi hotel resort. On Corpus Christi, last Sunday, they had a beautiful flower display out there, as they do in many places here. Like the Tournament of Roses Parade, everything has to be out of flower petals or natural elements. But unlike the parade, these designs are flat, like huge carpets, created on the sidewalks and lawns. They are one day only events, and apparently get vacuumed up afterwards. Posters had shown us pictures from previous years, but we were far too late to see this year's. It was a nice walk out to San Zoilo anyway, across the river and we got to see another Roman road through the woods (below right).

Carrion is a town with a lot of little squares or public areas for gathering. And lots of storks' nests. Like many other towns the same size, it also has public art and much of it related to the Camino, such as this scallop shell fountain, which was in one of the little squares. Mostly we enjoyed people watching. We stopped in a little alimentacion to replenish our food supply. And we saw another 'a caballo' pilgrim, but this one had a lame horse that wasn't doing well at all.

When the time came, we caught the bus. Fortunately, we had told the bus driver where we were getting out. He stopped in this little tiny village off to one side of the road. We had not seen any sign and had no idea where we where. We had to ask the whole bus several times if this was Terradillos. They must have thought we were really dumb.

So we got off the bus, found our way through the tired, dusty collection of buildings to the alburgue and found our backpacks which we had shipped ahead, thinking we would be walking. We said hello to some familiar faces, shouldered our packs and took off for 6 km towards San Nicholas. We noticed in passing some dilapidated buildings that the local building material of choice was mud and straw, just like the Hebrews had used to make bricks when they were slaves in Egypt. Only it didn't look like it was holding up so well under the Spanish sun and rain and time.

The fields we walked through were beautiful, nearly ripe wheat fields. Along the way, we also came across a labyrinth in a little rest area that someone had created just for us pilgrims!

The clouds were beginning to build in the skies all around us again, so we hurried through the fields on the dirt track. We made it to San Nicholas shortly before the evening rainstorm hit.

The private alburgue, Albergueria Laganares, at San Nicholas was delightful. We got to do and hang our laundry out in the the beautiful little courtyard out back (after the storm passed by), and then, there was this gorgeous post-storm rainbow visible across the fields from our upstairs window (more vivid in real life than in the picture). Our room was essentially a private room with two bunkbeds, but we didn't have to share it with anyone. The walls didn't go the whole way to the ceiling, however, so noises traveled. It was a small place with just four, four-person rooms upstairs and a private room downstairs. It was very colorful, and done in sort of a 'Spanish country' style, traditional for this region. Very homey. Lovely bathroom and shower facilities. After we got settled in, cleaned up and did our laundry, we sat in the little gathering area at the top of the steps and had some local wine, and some fruit, cheese and crackers from our backpacks as a late lunch to keep us until dinner.

We shared dinner at the table with two women from Canada, a niece and aunt. First course was 'sopa verde,' a creamy green soup of unknown green veggies creamed together, but probably spinach, maybe some broccoli. Second course, I chose pescado, fish, which was thankfully headless, and lightly fried, served with a small salad on the plate. Dessert was flan (we're comparing flans as we go across the country - they vary widely in quality!). Everything was delicious. A number of local folks were dining there as well, which is always a good sign!

The owners of the alburgue couldn't have been nicer. We forgot to call that evening for 'transporte de muchilla' (taking our backpacks to the next place), and when I couldn't get a phone line and he didn't want to fire up the internet, he just called for us and took care of it. Rated one of our better stays!

Weather

Fromista to Carrion (Friday, June 11th) Rain, rain go away, come again, another day. One foot in front of another all day long. All I can see again is out of the front of my little Conestoga wagon view. It is getting very old. I had to get a new poncho in Fromista yesterday. I´m no longer highlighter pink. Now I am olive drab with a large red scallop shell (sort of like Shell Oil) on my back. I feel like a plastic turtle. The road from Fromista is flat and fairly uninteresting. The path is nice and flat, and they are making improvements to it. I later find that my new poncho, even though it is heavier, already has cuts on it, I think from the twenty thousand (okay, that´s a slight exaggeration) concrete bollards I walked by on the path. Across this section, they find it necessary to mark every drive and to keep vehicles off of the path by placing concrete stanchions along it. Every time I pass between the poles, they hit my poncho and ... scratch... oh well. We´ll see how many ponchos it takes to make a Camino!


There is a lot of public art along the Camino about Santiago and perigrinos. I stop to take pictures of some of it. Perhaps it is the rain, or maybe just boredom with the drizzly, steady rain, but I also make a pitstop at every opportunity today. I try to stop in the little local churches whenever they are open. You wouldn´t believe the art treasures of altar pieces that are in the smallest of churches, but this day, none are open, which I guess is good, since I don´t feel much like delaying beyond the stops I have to make. I arrive in Carrion (yes, it sounds like dead meat, but I don´t know what it really means).

Stella is a kilometer or two ahead of me coming into this town for a change. I finally see the donkey we have been following (we always see the droppings, but never the donkey) as I pass Alburgue Santa Clara on my way to finding our Alburgue. I find Stella waiting at Iglesia de Santa Maria, next to our alburgue, which doesn´t open for another hour or more. There is a homeless man under the same shelter. He is just getting settled in, out of the rain, getting a can of dog food out for his dog.

We go find something to eat somewhere and come back. As we walk around town, we see some 'a caballo' pilrims for the first time - those who are completing the pilgrimage on horseback. There are two fine looking men in long leather dusters who could be father and son or perhaps brothers, on very nice quarterhorses. It must cost a lot of money to do the Camino this way because of having to board the horses as well. It is obvious that they have made pre-arrangements, because they are met by someone with a horsetrailer who comes and waters the horses and puts feed bags on them while the gentlemen take their own break (hence the riderless horses in the picture). The trail is also somewhat different in places, too. Those who ride bicycles also have a different trail in some parts. I suspect the two men riding horses will not be staying in a hostel tonight, but rather a more upscale accommodation! We also meet some 'a bici' peregrinos!

We eventually get settled. Nothing gets dry that I wash on this damp rainy day, but I end up having a nice conversation with a group of young people we have been traveling with from Chicago. There is a alburgue meeting at 6 pm. We haven´t had one of these before, but like good little pilgrims, Stella and I showup, not sure what to expect. It is grace. The three sisters, and perhaps an oblate who is multilingual, have a time of sharing and singing. One plays guitar and another a drum. They end up giving us a blessing by making the sign of the cross on our foreheads and by giving us a little paper, 6-pointed star (Compostella) that they have colored with crayons ("it weighs nothing in your backpacks") for us to take with us. People have a chance to share what the Camino has been like for them so far. Tears are in many eyes with the blessing and the grace of the moment. Remember what I wrote earlier about sometimes, when I've had a chance to get to walk and talk with some of the other pilgrims who have bugged me for some reason, I get to see them in a wholly (holy?) different light? Well, one of the guys who always sort of acts flashy, shallow and smart-alecky actually says something very nice and meaningful. I don't know if it is just 'of the moment,' but it forces me to reevaluate my superficial judgment of him and open the door wider, to allow for the possibility that he is not who I have perceived him to be! Oh, if I only had these moments more often, and hung on to them, I would be such a better person instead of being just as shallow as I have chalked him up to be! So, more grace with the realization.


We have dinner with Charley from Scotland and Karin from Sweden at a little restaurant a block from the alburgue. Then, we go to a service in the church next door. Within the church is a nativity tableau that is lighted and moves. It is really interesting and quite involved. Different parts of it light up at different times.

Obstacles

Castrojeriz to Fromista (Thursday, June 10th)
The journey from Castrojeriz to Fromista was not one of the most pleasurable days on the journey unless one takes pleasure in triumphing over significant obstacles and discomfort. It reminded me of the Confidence Courses or Obstacle Courses from my military days, or the series of tasks that Hercules had to perform. The first couple of kilometers from Castrojeriz were easy, across a flat plain, and then it was up and up and up a very steep path, up the side of a hill/mountain/whatever. The track was muddy from rain and at times muddy and windy so that one could almost imagine being blown off of the trail and the side of the small ridge, especially when rounding a bend, but it didn't happen, thankfully. The trail kept winding, surely after the next curve the end and top would be in sight, and yet it would go on. One of the "rules" I allowed myself early on in starting the Camino was that I was allowed all the breaks I needed to take - I wasn't trying to prove anything to anyone. So when I had to stop on that long hike up, I did for a few moments until I could handle the next stretch. At last, I saw the the small obelisk that marked the top of the uphill trail. I stepped past it and turned around to see the incredible view of the valley I had left behind. There was a small pavilion at the top, presumably to sit and give thanks for obtaining the summit. There was a group of about 4 guys that had finished climbing the top ahead of me who were taking pictures of each other and had finished resting and were leaving just as I arrived, and one other single male pilgrim.

The next challenge/obstacle was this tabletop mesa itself. The wind was something else. The mesa was perfectly flat, barely a tree in sight, and it, too, was very muddy in some places. It was a very peculiar sight, like something out of the American southwest. Not terribly large, but each step was fought for against the wind. The sky was filled with heavy, dark clouds which were moving quickly. I felt the need to keep the other guys in sight; I didn´t want to be up there by myself and though there were a number of people coming up the path behind me, there was no one visible yet behind me and I needed to know I wasn´t humanly alone up there on the mesa. It was a strange feeling, like being alone in the world, alone against all the elements. But for a little while, perhaps several minutes, I was, until I began the next challenge: the descent.

The descent was an obstacle I had experienced before. An extremely steep, rocky and rutted path that went on and on. Hard on the knees. It´s funny, you develop a preference for size of rock and gravel on which to walk. Something you have probably never considered before. Descents are tedious because you have to concentrate so hard, or at least I do, so I don´t slip or slide or roll. It´s exhausting in a different kind of way from climbing up. Finally, this phase, too, came to an end. Then began a phase I just didn´t expect.

Slimey, sticky marsh mud. The kind that makes you taller and heavier with each step. The kind that you can´t get off of your boots for love or money. I tried to walk around the edges of the path, but even that didn´t work because of the vegetation along the path - about as sharp as the spartina grass we have in the marshes back home and just as dense. This mud went on for at least one to two kilometers, maybe more, which is a very long time to slog through something. And all the while, the wind was still horrendous. Not as bad as it had been up on top of the mesa, but so bad, it just tore my little Kmart highlighter pink poncho to shreds. Alejandro from Argentina told me later, "I just kept finding pieces of Joan all across the meseta!" I threw it away when I got to Fromista. But meanwhile, the wind whipped it around me and the drizzle drizzled. and it was a generally miserable day.

About 12 km from Castrojeriz, I finally reached Itero and the little cafe/bar. I paused for a well-earned break. I was exhausted from all the different challenges, both physical and mental from having to concentrate so hard on the path. Afterwards, I wasn't much looking forward to getting started again, especially since the rain was just picking up again, but a couple was ready to leave again as well and so I started out with them. It turns out they were from Norway. I am one eighth Norwegian and so we got started talking about Norway and Georgia. They were Johanna and Ingevor (or something close to that). He has been a TV-radio journalist for 30 years or so. She has her law degree, but apparently you have to do a 2 year internship and appear in court so many times to be a lawyer in Norway and she hasn´t done that, so she is more like a paralegal working for the city. They live in southwestern Norway, a city where cruise ships pull in. They are doing the Camino in segments over several years and this is their third time. They are a really interesting couple and we had a lively conversation despite the wind and possible sleet and absolutely pelting rain. As it happens, another Norwegian, Klaus, came by and they conversed for awhile in Norwegian. Johanna apologized, but I enjoyed hearing one of my mother tongues being spoken. I had never really heard it before. We traveled the whole way to Fromista together. Just before we got to Fromista, we came to the Canal de Castilla. The Canal, like the Erie Canal, like the Canal in Augusta, was used for business purposes. This canal was used to transport crops (wheat, barley, oats) up to the northern seaports. It was also used to power corn mills. This is the first area where I have seen corn growing. There was a large lock with a major difference in water levels here. We took pictures of each other at the lock. With the invention of the train, and then the highway, the canal is now mostly used for leisure with canal boat cruises and the like. It is also important for irrigation in this area, which is sort of the bread basket for Spain. If it hadn't been raining, it would have been really beautiful and a nice spot for a picnic. There were lots of informative signs about how the locks and canal work.





Fromista is a nice little town, the most important feature of which is the church just adjacent to our alburgue, San Martin. It is an 11th century Romanesque church, very well preserved. In a little gift shop, I find a replacement poncho (a much more subdued olive color!) to replace my highlighter pink one that I have only a few remnants of any more. The new one is also a heavier grade plastic, so maybe it will last a little longer.

Purely by accident, as we are out looking for a shirt for Stella this evening for the cool weather, we go by another church, St. Peter Gonzalez (a local saint), and see a sign, for a concert for pilgrims at 6:30 this evening. It´s after 6 already, so we decide to wait. What a wonderful surprise and gift! A man from Milwaukee, who has made 3 Caminos, was so deeply affected by it, that he has funded free concerts for three venues in the province of Palencia for June through August of this year with about 7 or 8 different artists! Carlos and Gladis Rodriguez from Puerto Rico, graduate music students in Milwaukee, he on guitar and her a soprano, perform classical music, typical Puerto Rican music and other numbers. It is so lovely. And they are such a lovely young couple who are so obviously deeply in love, and so tender and appreciative with each other. They shine when the other performs, it is so sweet. They close with her singing something composed by St. Theresa of Avila, and then (I think Shubert´s) Ave Maria. Not coincidentally perhaps, as she finishes, the church bells are ringing. It is absolutely beautiful way to end a difficult and challenging day!

Meseta

Hornillos to Castrojeriz (Wednesday, June 9th)
We continue on the meseta this day, our first full day on it. It is still lovely, but this is a day unlike the guidebooks describe again. There is no need of sunglasses and sunscreen. It is overcast and drizzly.





The towns are few and far between. In this town, sunk down into a hollow, and seemingly kilometers from anywhere, the street on which we enter is named Calle Royale or Royal Street. Judging by appearances, it seems anything but.




It is more than 5 km before I even see the very isolated alburgue, a single building in a few trees, at San Bol. I hope that they either serve an evening meal or pilgrims who stop there are prepared with food of their own, for there is nothing even remotely close around. Stella and I are walking near one another, but walking our own walks. It is peaceful, quiet, reflective.


But I am wrapped in the cocoon of my poncho again which is less than ideal. The hood, on top of my wide brim hat, brings the edges of the hat down around my head. I keep the hat on, because the front brim keeps the rain out of my face, but with the side brims pushed down, it is like looking through the end of a conestoga wagon, or like being a horse with blinders. My range of vision is so limited: I can look down at the muddy track and rocks, or I can look straight ahead; I can't really see anything to the side without turning my whole body. Occasionally, every km or two, I stop and sort of twirl around to see where I have been or to look to the left or right. There is not so much to see except beautiful rolling green fields and more wildflowers, a gray, heavy-laden sky and rain moving in. There are more pilgrims in ones and twos and threes at varying distances ahead and behind. If I were home, it would be one of those wonderful days to curl up with a good book. But I am not home - I am out and about in the real world, having my own adventure, and I am glad for it.

The first real village is Hontanos, 12 km from Hornillos. I stop for my usual tee con leche and a chance to get off my feet for a few minutes. The next really interesting stop is the ruins of San Anton, almost all the way to this day´s destination. There is actually an alburgue tucked into the ruins, but not one I think I would want to stay at - it would be pretty primitive. It is the Gothic ruins of a convent and the tall arches curve up gracefully to an open sky, pointing openly to the heavens.

There are recesses in the walls where the sisters left bread for pilgrims. To this day, it is still a place that gives out bread to pilgrims. These days, pilgrims also still leave messages for one another. There is one spot where pilgrims have left behind shoes. St. Anton of Egypt was and is the patron saint of animals and is often depicted with a pig at his feet. He is associated with the tau (T) shaped cross, as is St. Francis.

Castrojeriz (pronounced Cas-tro-her-RETH) is only a few kilometers further. Along the way, there is another incredible field of poppies and poppies. If I was Dorothy and that was Oz, I'd be falling asleep about now. I am actually surprised to reach the town so quickly this day. It is a very pretty approach to the town with a tree-lined road. Up above the town, high on a pointy hill, is the ruins of a castillo, a castle. Closer, at the entrance to the town, is the Church of St. Mary (most of the churches are named for her, it seems). There are several other prominent churches here as well, and other ruins of convents and Roman walls.

This town celebrated its MILLENIUM in 1974! Imagine. We have no idea what old really means in the US! The town straggles out along a 2 km backbone around the curving hill of the castle. The guidebook said that this is the town that has perfected the siesta, awakening only for its annual garlic festival! I can see why it has this reputation - in walking nearly the length of the town, I come across very few residents, and those mostly middle age and older, mostly men around a couple of bar/cafes that are open. A few younger men who are doing a little construction work. A couple of women who are shopping. Of course it is siesta time. Most of the buildings are shuttered - perhaps Castrojeriz is the Spanish version of Brigadoon! I walk by one shuttered house and hear music coming out. I pause for a moment, trying to place it, and then I laugh! It is "Dixie" played with Spanish instrumentation and flair, no wonder it sounded familiar!

I finally find the alburgue. It begins to rain in earnest after I reach the town. Stella is behind me and gets rained on just as she is arriving.

We meet a Swiss man at the alburgue who is making his 13th Camino. He has done lots of routes and both a pie and a bici. He recommends La Taberna down the street for dinner, so we go there, after we tour the town and the Cathedral de Santa Maria. Much of the church has been turned into a museum, and again, I don't mind paying the small admission fee to help with the upkeep of the building. While we are there, a mass is being said in French for a group of tourists. Even after the siesta time the town seems empty, with very few children, though there is a school. One of the other churches has a handicap accessibility ramp that I'm sure Mom would never dream of using! The sun has come back out for a little bit as we head back to the alburgue to put our feet up for just a bit before heading out for dinner. By the time we leave for La Taberna, the clouds are back. Between the alburgue and La Taberna, we find an outfitters' store, the first we've seen, so we go in and explore. It isn't so different from an American one, but we don't find anything we have to have. So we go on to La Taberna.



Antonio is the owner. He is wonderful. We get there about 6 and the restaurant doesn´t serve until 7, so we sit at the bar. He pours us local wine which his friends have made. He gives us a plate of olives that there is something special about that his friends have made - Stella says they´re wonderful, I´ll have to take her word for it. Then he prepares us a plate with bread, olive oil (first pressing) and cheese from sheep´s milk (all local) that his friends have made. This is all gratis. It is the best cheese like this you can imagine!

Then it is time for dinner, and we go into the back room, the restaurant.
By this time, several others have come in and are at other tables. The first course is lentils with chorizo, then a wonderful chicken cooked in ale, served with real french fries and a salad, and flan for dessert. The atmosphere is so authentic and so warm and wonderful. A perfect evening that we don´t even mind the drizzle to walk back to the alburgue.

Footfalls

Burgos to Hornillos (Tuesday, June 8th)
[Mary and Lexi and Josh are behind us by a few days. They are walking slower and are doing fewer km per day. We are keeping in touch by email. As of today (Wed. 9th) they are headed towards Belorado.]

Stella and I actually sleep in a little bit in our palace in Burgos! What a luxury, except I really didn´t sleep any better there than I do otherwise. But I still enjoyed it. And we don´t have everyone else around us, getting up early or rushing around or squeezing in to get their stuff packed. We have a leisurely breakfast with Marie Noelle of bread and jam and another wonderful French cheese and tea con leche. Grudgingly, we leave our palace.

We head out of Burgos, along the Camino. The guidebook always seems to make the path straighter than it actually is. As we cross back over the river, we make our way to the convent at Las Huelgas. We have to ask directions a couple of times, but we find it without too much problem. When we reach it, we round a corner to see a whole street that is almost like a movie set, it seems so perfect and so different from what surrounds it. It looks like a medieval village established to support this convent. The convent looks nothing like the picture that I have posted on the early blog, so I don´t know whether that´s a view that we don´t have access to or what. It is virtually a castle - a world - unto itself. Remember that this was a whole community established for noble women (presumably so they wouldn´t have to associate with common women). It was an opportunity for them to learn and to be in positions of leadership. The women created and performed an extremely sophisticated form of polyphonic music for their time. According to Michener, this was an extremely powerful convent. It was said that "if the pope ever had to take a wife, only the abbess of Las Huelgas would be eligible." Unfortunately, the convent doesn´t open until 10 am which is an hour later than when we are there and we don´t really want to wait around that long when we have 20 km waiting in front of us. I wish I could have a sample of someone performing music from here. Even just touring the outside of the convent is an interesting side trip.

We get back onto the Camino. There is some kind of tree that is sending out white fuzzy stuff that comes down and accumulates in drifts by the side of the roads and paths, almost like a very dry snow. I guess they are some sort of seeds, almost like milkweed pods.

It is a good day's walk, except that for me, my one foot is a problem between a serious blister on one toe and a nerve problem in the foot. By the end of the day, I am seriously hurting and compensating in my walk so much that I can feel it all the way up into my hamstrings and gluteous. Not a good thing. It is only about a 20 km walk, but it seems to take forever. There are 3 or 4 villages that we pass through on the way, each interesting in their own way. I stop in Tardajos midmorning at a bar/cafe for a tee con leche to take a rest. Always a good thing. I sit at a table outside as it is too smoky inside. I watch as contractors work at refurbishing a house next door. Despite the economy in Spain, I am surprised at how much construction, big and small is being done. It is everywhere. The waitresses always appreciate it when I bring the dishes in from outside. How far is it to Hornillos? Another 10 km give or take? Oh. I was hoping for a little less. Ok. I take advantage of the facilities as long as I am there and am quite pleasantly surprised to find that it is completely handicap accessible in this little, out of the way village. And, it's a really nice bathroom, which cannot be said of many of the places we stop! On the road again, just can´t wait to get on the road again...

The next town is Rabe. It has an interesting church and building connected to it, but unfortunately, the church is closed. I take a picture of the handcrafted fountain. On the way out of town, there is a neat little chapel where I have lunch out of the stuff in my sack. Then I realize it is the entrance to a cemetery! So that's what 'monasterios' means. Oh well.

We begin the meseta today. Meseta comes from the word for table, mesa. I have the idea in my head that it should be completely flat because the books talk about all you see for days on end is the horizon, the fields meeting the sky. But I still see hills. And I am still climbing. It finally occurs to me at some point that to be a table means getting to the table TOP. Why didn´t I think of that before? But even once I am sure I am on the meseta, it is not completely flat. It does seem rather like walking across Kansas or Nebraska however. The fields just go on and on. It is absolutely beautiful and serene. The fields are oats, wheat and barley, though don´t ask me where the oats are. I think I can tell the other two apart. Still, there are wild flowers all along the path. There are several kinds of lavendar and I rub my hands on it frequently, just to enjoy the smell.

The guide book talks about protecting ourselves from endless sun and the lack of shade in this part. We are lucky this day. It is cloudy, and even a few drizzly drops, so I break out my Kmart special poncho. It is highlighter pink. You can seem me coming or going for kilometers across the meseta. I feel like a large walking traffic cone. But I´m visible for walking near the road!

Eventually Hornillos comes into view. (I think the name has something to do with the word for 'little ovens.') At the end of each day´s walk, and the day´s goal appears, it is rather like Dorothy getting her first glimpse of Oz! It´s there, it´s doable, I´m going to make it! Hornillos doesn´t have too much going for it - one little alimentacion (small grocer) and one little bar/restaurant. Once we get settled, Stella and I leave the alburgue to get a few things to eat for the next days breakfast and journey. Just outside, we find a small, baby bird that is huddled against the somewhat blustery wind of the meseta.


Then we have dinner at the little restaurant. It is actually a very good little pilgrim dinner. The chicken is quite good, with a good glass of wine, and great white asparagus as a first course, and the usual little tri-flavored ice cream for dessert. Who could ask for a better ending to a good day´s walk?