Terradillos de los templarios to El Burgo Ranero 31km
A long flat stage which started at 7.15 in the morning in the pouring rain. Full rain gear and head down to Sahagun; where the weather brightened up and we took some lovely shots.
Yesterday there was a 17km stretch which we had been warned to stock up on water and food for, as there was no towns or stops; a steady stream of pilgrims marched determinedly along the straight path with fields stretched out under grey skies. Cuckoos and nightingales sang in the hedges, but still too cold for butterflies and bees.
I passed an American nurse, who was looking pale and not too well. She had got into the same accommodation yesterday as us, at noon and her planned two hour nap took her to 10pm. It had been too late to stock up on food, and only had a couple of pieces of fruit for the long stretch. What was really bothering her was what she had thought was a blister yesterday was in fact an abscess, which she had to cut, drain and stitch. I insisted she take my supply of penicillin, a sterile stitch kit, and some protein bars. Today we met up with her and she was looking much better, colour had returned and she was digging into the biggest hamburger I’d ever seen, complete with cheese, fried egg, bacon, and the crest of the Leon region toasted into the top bun. A truly outrageous take on the humble burger.
It was a long straightforward path today alongside a minor road. I practiced walking meditation and used the kilometres of evenly spaced trees to focus breathing to my steps; one full cycle of breathe to 12 steps from tree to tree. During the difficult stages of the previous weeks, I had fallen to counting to 30 over and over; to steady my mind; I regularly do this when things are very difficult. But in the last two days, I have started singing my favourite nursery song, « the ants come marching one by one » , which I sang to my children and which Mother would sing to us: It’s always been a source of comfort.
Jo is losing patience with me being so wiped at the end of each stage, leaving it for her to gather provisions, make sandwiches, make dinner, make coffee in the morning, and generally making sure that I stay alive. I’m going to try and use the pack carry service tomorrow, so that I don’t have the weight to carry and give me a better chance of being more corpus mentes at the end of the day.
Tonight we are at an Italian Dominican parish albergue, which fortunately has a big kitchen to cook one’s own meal in, big tables, etc; also a fireplace. I managed to get the Hospitaller to arrange my bag transfer by phone, as he simultaneously watched the corrida de toros on his iPad. However, the weather is supposed to turn tomorrow.
There were not enough lights in the communal shower room, so struggled to have a shower in the dark, in the small cubicle, without soaking my towel and change of clothes. There was no point in trying to wash our clothes as the rain continued throughout the evening. In the middle of the night I went downstairs to the necessary. It was dark, except for the fireplace in front of which a pilgrim was crouched; unshaven, unkempt, with an expression of intense communion with the fire which he was staring at.
Reliegos to Puenta Villarente; 27km
The weather had decided that it is not for turning. Very flat, fields of upturned earth waiting for planting: Must be corn, as there are old cobs from last year on the side of the path. Most of the path was alongside the local road to Leon. Without my pack, we were able to cruise at a steady rate of 4.5km an hour for 6 hours, with a couple of breaks. There was a steady downpour for five hours. My shoes finally got soaked, the goretex gave up after a valiant four months of training and two weeks plus of the Camino.
This is a beautiful albergue, pricier than most if you choose a bed rather than a bunk bed. We are in a room of eight pilgrims; us two Canadians, a Korean, the American nurse, two French, an Irish and a British guy. We had been at the same donativo last night with the last two and met them a couple of times today in coffee shops or on the trail. I was staring at my daypack on the way out of a coffee shop, trying to ensure that the heaviest thing I was carrying today (almost a litre of water), was on my left side: I was stumped for a long moment on what side that would be. I remarked to the Irish guy that it was pathetic that I was a barrister at law, but could not tell my left from right without conscious effort. He said that the Camino would do that to you.
Above is one of the descents, Mataburros, 17%. In the Meseta, which is supposed to be flat!
Puenta Villarente to Valverde 25km
It was too wet to try and find dinner in the very small village, so we joined the other pilgrims for a shared meal. Again it was not very good, the dinner conversation was stopped completely by the force of the biblical rain outside. Just our luck to time our Camino with the Monsoon season in northern Spain. There was a lovely fireplace and sofas, but every square inch was taken up with pairs of hiking shoes stacked up on chairs and rain gear hanging from every hook and bannister. The establishment did have clotheslines, but they were outside in the rain.
Again there were the sounds of people ill in the night; the gastro bug jumping from host to host : Jo and I are trying to build in extra rest days in case we get hit with this.
The conversations with other pilgrims are very affirming; no one gives away more than they are comfortable with, no one judges, no one asks probing questions. On the other hand, very deep and meaningful exchanges are had, often in the briefest of conversations. A couple of German ladies understood the need for an intense physical experience (such as lurching through 400km in pain and bad weather/difficult terrain) in order to force the mind to stop thinking, and the heart to stop churning up bad memories. To wipe the slate clean. Lee does this already with his cold water swimming, to a lesser extent, to reset the mind and mood. They understood completely how I could be so happy and so content within myself, even though I was obviously struggling with the physical effort. I met them once, a week ago? I haven’t seen them since, however I will never forget them.
At Puente we had a chance to relax as a group before and during dinner, watching the rain fall, making brief forays to get more drinks from the bar outside in the courtyard. Irreverent and sometimes meaningful conversations dipped in and out of topics; we were an international group but English was holding sway until dinner, when it switched to mostly German as the mix changed.
The next day we stepped out into a cold but bright morning, we were walking through Leon rather than spend the night there, but still managed to see the statue of Gaudi sitting on the bench facing his museum, the old fortifications, and the brass imprints of footsteps to commemorate the fact that this used to be an important Roman garrison.
We also visited the physio again; this time for our backs. We will forward our rucksacks for the next few days to allow various twinges to subside. We ended our jaunt through the city with a great lunch of octopus and potato stew, seafood brochettes, and pan fried hake. Heaven! Proper local cuisine.
We then carried our very full stomachs through the next 12 km alongside major highways, over and under junctions, with the roar and exhaust of non ULEZ compliant traffic. We didn’t see another pilgrim on this rather grim stretch, but at least the sun was out.
We booked into our albergue which was a real throwback to the hippy style; and it was genuine. Only vegetarian food allowed, hammocks in the garden for summer guests who want a cheap place to sleep: weathered bamboo awnings, etc. Unfortunately it was hard by the highway so the ambiance was edged with the noise of constant traffic.
