THERE´S A LONG ROAD AWINDING...

Last photos

2009-09-04T17:10:00.001-07:00

With Kari

With Sandi

Santiago Cathedral

Prazo Obradoiro with pilgrims gathering for the mass

St James and the Tree of Jesse

Faithful companions

The end of the road

My Compostela

Santiago and Finisterre (or Fisterra)

2009-09-04T13:17:00.000-07:00

So, my pilgrimage was over. I wanted to spend the day in Santiago then go to Finisterre the following day before leaving for Madrid and England and the long-awaited visit to my son and his family for ten days, before finally returning to my home in Brazil after a seven week absence.

The albergue I was staying in allowed pilgrims to remain for a second night, so I sorted my stuff out then left my rucksack on a bunk in order to reserve it. Not the one I´d slept in the previous night as the bunk next to mine had been a bit too close for comfort. After a coffee I walked into town, still limping but not quite as much since I was no longer carrying my rucksack. I went to the Camino Travel Centre run by Ivar, the same chap who runs the pilgrim forum I belong to, and sorted out my travel arrangements. Jan turned up there and also finalised his plans and by coincidence we actually ended up travelling to England together.

Then it was time for the pilgrim mass at the the cathedral where we met up with the rest of our little group. The service is held for the pilgrims every day at twelve, and I found it very moving. The number of pilgrims who´d arrived that day and their country of origin was mentioned and a nun sang beautifully. The cathedral was packed with pilgrims and other visitors and we´d been lucky to get seats. Unfortunately the "botafumeiro" did not swing that day. It is a massive incense burner hanging from the roof, swung like a pendulum clear across the aisles by six men. It is said to be an impressive sight.

After the mass I joined a queue to go up behind the altar and hug the figure of St James and murmur my thanks, and I also sneaked a quick touch of the Tree of Jesse, a pilgrim tradition down the centuries, although now there is a barrier and a security guard nearby. I took my chance when he was distracted by an elderly lady, a pilgrim I believe, who crawled through the barrier on her knees to touch her forehead against the base of the statue. Then off I went to the pilgrim office to get my Compostela - a certificate with my name in Latin stating I had completed the Camino. I had to produce my pilgrim passport as proof of my journey and I was proud to see how many stamps I had accumulated over the previous weeks.

After all this I had something to eat then a look around the old quarter, fascinating with its narrow streets and old buildings. I was very glad to bump into Kari and Sandi while I was doing this, as we managed a final goodbye. The city was full of pilgrims and I saw quite a few familiar faces, including Mike and his wife and managed to speak to some of them. I was feeling very tired by this time and my leg was hurting so I walked slowly back to the albergue in a very hot sun and spent the rest of the day writing my notes, doing washing and finally relaxing. I´d turned down an invitation to join the group again for dinner as I couldn´t face the long traipse in and back again. They´d all left the albergue to stay in places nearer the cathedral and were planning a meal out in the old quarter. We were meeting the next day to go to Finisterre by bus, anyway.

I felt that my pilgrimage ended in Santiago, but some pilgrims carry on to Finisterre (also known as Fisterra) on the coast, either walking the 89km or by bus. It is the furthest point west you can get, the "end of the world" in medieval times. I had decided to join the others as it would make a nice trip to round things off and also I could symbolically bathe my feet in the ocean. We met up at the bus station the next morning and after a couple of hours drive arrived in Finisterre, a small fishing village. Here the rest set off to the lighthouse and cliffs at the furthest point but since several kilometres of walking were involved I decided not to go. My leg was still quite swollen and painful and I was once again carrying my rucksack as I was going straight on to Madrid after. Also I was more interested in going to the beach which was nearby. It was a sunny day but there was a strong cold wind blowing so I had a brief look round the village then made my way down to the sandy beach. I took my sandals off and walked into the cold water and stood there while tears filled my eyes at the thought that it was all over. It was too chilly to stand there for long though, so I waded out and was shortly joined by the others. After a drink we were glad to get out of the wind and onto the bus back to Santiago. And that´s the end of it really...

Last Thoughts

Like many others I think I have come back from my Camino a different person. Living day-to-day with all your possessions reduced to an absolute minimum changes the way you look at things. You discover how little you need, how irrelevant some of your major preocupations are, how important people are. I dreamt vividly about my Camino every night for well over a month after I got home and still do so frequently. It is almost like an addiction and there are times when I really long to be there again.

This blog, which has helped me to re-live an amazing experience, was never meant to be an exciting or humorous tale of my adventures and misadventures. I am not a writer. I read several enjoyable and entertaining blogs during the months leading up to my journey, but I felt that sometimes I would have liked some more information. This was why I decided to write a factual account of my preparation and pilgrimage. I wanted to start from the very beginning and include all the training and preparation, telling it from the point of view of a first-time pilgrim, who didn´t know what to expect. I wanted to include all the daily details and facts of the journey so as to give a true picture of what it was like to walk 790km in 35 days through all temperatures and weathers with all your worldly goods on your back. I wanted to share my thoughts and feelings in such an unusual situation and try to give an accurate "warts and all" picture of what it was like for me, not just dwell on the highlights. My hope was that this blog would be of interest and use to some future pilgrims who may be reading it. I would like to reassure them that while there were good days and bad days, it was never so bad that I considered giving up. So if that is what you want to do then go for it - and Buen Camino to you. Although be warned, it can become addictive...the Camino Portugues is beginning to beckon to me next...

Day 35 - Photos

2009-09-03T12:05:00.000-07:00

My fellow sufferer the Danish pilgrim

The end of the airport runway

More abandoned boots

The little chapel at Monte del Gozo

Resting in Monte del Gozo before the final stretch

The shrine of St James (San Tiago) in the cathedral crypt

Day 35 - Arca do Pino to Santiago - 21km

2009-09-03T10:19:00.000-07:00

Well, this was it, my final day of walking. I had very mixed feelings as I set off, but mostly I was concerned about how my leg was going to bear up. I applied gel, took tablets and had breakfast with friends before leaving Arca. It was very misty and nice and cool in the thick pine woods during the first part of the walk. The path was good underfoot, occasionally joining quiet side roads and at one point going round the end of the runway for Santiago airport.

I walked slowly in order to savour my last day and also to try and spare my leg. The pain was bearable although the swelling was worse, and I couldn´t help limping despite my stick. The path went through several small villages and I stopped for coffee breaks in a couple of them where once again I kept bumping into my fellow struggling pilgrim, the Danish lady. There were a lot of people on the Camino now, including a large group of very noisy students which it took a while to get away from.

As the morning went on the mist cleared and it became another very hot day. There were some long steep climbs up towards Monte del Gozo, tiring in the sun as the woods were left behind. At Monte del Gozo (Mount of Joy), 5km from Santiago, there is a little chapel where many pilgrims give thanks and I sat in there quietly for a while, as did my Danish friend. This spot was celebrated as the place from which pilgrims caught their first glimpse of the towers of the Cathdral but now the view is obscured by trees. I knew that nothing could stop me now and although I felt relieved it was nearly over I also felt very sad that I was coming to the end of such a special experience.

After a welcome rest I set off on the last stretch, which like many approaches to large cities included dual carriageways and suburbs, a bit of a letdown. I found my albergue down a very long flight of stone steps on the outskirts and dumped my stuff before climbing up the wretched steps again to visit the cathedral. It was a long hot walk into town, much further than I expected. If I´d realised I might have tried to find somewhere nearer. I saw my Danish friend on the way in, lost and looking for her guest house in the old quarter near the cathedral so I took her with me and we arrived together.

The cathedral is very large and very impressive, inside and out. I sat there in the cool and quiet and gave thanks for my safe arrival with a lump in my throat. There were quite a number of pilgrims sitting there and we were a motley crew, but part of a long line that stretched back over a thousand years. I was proud to be one of them.

Afterwards I did some shopping and went back to the albergue as I was very tired and my leg was pretty sore, even without my rucksack. While I was resting on my bunk Jan and the group turned up, an unexpected pleasure as I thought they were staying nearer the centre. We arranged to go out to dinner together and that really rounded the day off nicely. An excellent meal with good company on my last day´s walking. The restaurant was in the old quarter and by the time we´d walked back from town again my leg was pretty bad, but by then it didn´t really matter because I´d made it!

Last entry tomorrow...

Day 34 - Photo

2009-09-01T11:02:00.000-07:00

Dinner in Arca de Pino with Jan and friends - Jan looks considerably thinner than when I first met him 34 days ago!

Day 34 - Ribadiso to Arca do Pino - 22km

2009-09-01T08:36:00.000-07:00

I was off nice and early in a very misty morning. I stopped for my first coffee in Arzua after a gentle climb and then followed the path through attractive pine forests. There were a series of hamlets along the way and I stopped in several to give my leg a rest as it was getting steadily more painful and a swelling had appeared halfway up my shin. The day was also getting hotter and hotter as the mist cleared, although in the shady forests it was pleasant. Luckily there were only three shallow river valleys to cross, so there was a bit less up and downhill to put added strain on my leg. Thank goodness I had my pilgrim´s staff to lean on, it really did make a difference.

Also hobbling along was my Danish pilgrim with the poorly knees (unfortunately I never knew her name). We tried to encourage each other to keep going, motivated by the fact that Santiago was only a couple of days away. My biggest fear was that I would be unable to complete my pilgrimage. Having to stop two days before Santiago after having walked 750km didn´t bear thinking about. I was determined to get there under my own steam even if I had to crawl. I was having to stop fairly frequently by now, even if there was nowhere to sit just standing still with most of my weight on the other leg helped a little.

By the time I´d covered about 15km I was limping badly and wondering if I´d make it to the next village, let alone the next albergue a further 5km away. I sat on a bench by the road and rubbed more gel on my swollen leg and took some paracetamol to try and ease the pain. I had wanted to reach Arca that day but now would have been happy to have made it to a small private refuge in the nearer Sta Irene. After a rest it felt a little better and I managed to struggle into the next village where I sat in the shade outside a bar and wondered what to do next. I was joined by my Danish friend and we sat there taking it easy for quite a while. She had also decided to stop at Sta Irene, and when a bakers van came to make a delivery we tried, half seriously, to cadge a lift in the back, but to no avail.

When I set off again the long rest had helped and I think the paracetamol had kicked in as I managed to get along fairly well and even changed my mind about the detour to Sta Irene. By the time I reached Arca though I was really struggling again and headed for the municipal albergue regardless of the open mixed showers. There I was told they only had upper bunks available and since I knew it would be very difficult to climb up and down in my present state I decided to carry on slowly to a private albergue further on. Good choice! It was very nice and modern, even having a water feature in one area, and I got a bottom bunk. A nice surprise was that my friend Jan was also staying there.

I was very hot, perspiring, tired and in pain when I arrived but after a refreshing shower and a rest with my leg up I felt able to do my usual chores. Jan was now part of a little group which included a nurse. She said I had tendinitis and gave me some ibuprofen to take for a couple of days. Ideally I should have taken time out as well, but that was out of the question at this point. I later went out for a nice pilgrim dinner with the group and kept my leg up as much as possible the rest of the time. Tomorrow was to be the BIG day when I would hopefully make it to Santiago. Unsurprisingly I had taken no photographs during the day so all I have to record my last-but-one day´s walking is a group photo taken at dinner.

Day 33 - Photos

2009-08-31T12:15:00.001-07:00

Pilgrim statue on the way out of Palas de Rei

Spot the dog!

I´m not sure what this is, but it was in the middle of a little village

Crossing one of the six rivers

Another curious cow

My dorm at Ribadiso

Ancient bridge over the Rio Iso - how many pilgrims have passed this way in the last thousand years?

Pilgrims sitting by the river

Day 33 - Palas de Rei to Ribadiso - 27km

2009-08-31T09:46:00.000-07:00

I was woken early, about sixish, by pilgrims (there´s no escaping them!) leaving the albergue over the road. After enjoying a little lie-in I went over for a coffee, came back and packed in a leisurely manner and was still on my way before eight despite there being no chucking-out time for my room. I guess old habits die hard. All my washing had dried except for my fleece which was still a little damp, but luckily it looked as if it wasn´t going to be needed that day.

Most of the route ahead would be paths through woods while crossing six river valleys, so I knew it was going to be rather demanding with lots of up and downhill walking. I started off slowly as there were a couple of lads ahead of me listening to a radio as they went along, which I found irritating. The path was good underfoot and the surroundings were very pleasant although the steep bits were steep. After a while I felt a twinge in my left shin halfway between ankle and knee, a niggling little pain as if I´d banged it against something. I slowed down and it wore off.

There were a lot of little villages along the way, in one of which I caught up with Kari and Sandi and we had some coffee and cake together. Somehow, without planning, we seemed to meet up at every break for the rest of the day although we all walked at a different pace. In Melide I decided not to try the spiced octopus in wine as my stomach was still a little queasy from my meal the previous evening. This was a shame because the town is famous for this dish and I had meant to try it.

By the time I reached Boente my leg was becoming quite painful and I stopped for a tonic and to rub on some of the gel I had bought for my foot. I also had my credential stamped by the priest in the church there (he stamped the wrong page!) as from Sarria onwards you need two stamps per day in order to qualify for your compostela, not just the one from the albergue where you sleep. I think this is for the church authorities to ensure you are a genuine pilgrim. The gel seemed to ease the pain somewhat, and I came to the conclusion that the steep hills the previous day must have strained something. If this were the case I was in for it as the hills today seemed even worse.

I set off from there with Kari, where we foolishly ignored the advice of an old lady and went down the road instead of detouring round the houses in the village. On my map it looked as if the path crossed the road shortly afterwards. What we didn´t realise was the road was a busy highway with no footpath and after going down and round a long steep bend on the hard shoulder there was no sign of our path, while the highway went over a long bridge. We didn´t fancy struggling back up the hill and were wondering what to do when Kari thought she saw an overgrown path the other side of the highway. We scooted across, ploughed down through some bushes and she was right, we came out on the Camino again. Relief all round!

By this time my back was hurting as well as my leg, and the sun was hot. I carried on slowly while Kari went ahead as she had further to go, having arranged to meet Sandi in Arzúa while I intended to stop a couple of kilometres before in Ribadiso. This proved to be an excellent choice on my part as Ribadiso was a delightful spot. I still had some steep bits to negotiate before arriving, though, and it was a hot tired pilgrim who eventually got there.

Ribadiso is a tiny hamlet and the albergue is in a converted medieval pilgrim hospital by a river. The old stone buildings have been made into comfortable dorms, toilets and shower blocks surrounded by lawns. Nearby were fields where I could see a kestrel hovering and swooping over a newly mown area. To one side flows the Rio Iso where you can swim or sit on steps leading down to the water and soak your feet. There were people sunbathing on the grass, sitting with their feet in the water or paddling, and generally relaxing after a good day´s walk. I think this was one of my favourite albergues, especially as there was a good restaurant next door where I went for Santiago tart and later had an excellent pilgrim dinner (salad, eggs, bacon and chips followed by ice cream - very Spanish!) and plenty of wine to ease the pain in my leg...

Marcel and the Danish lady with the sore knees were here, but no other familiar faces. We had a companionable moan about our aches and pains and I tried to rest my leg as much as possible after applying more gel in the hope it would be back to normal next day. I sat by the river and watched what looked like a butterfly mating dance over the crystal clear water, and then saw a snake swimming towards the opposite bank with a six-inch fish in its mouth. I tried to get a photo but it swam away too quickly. After dinner it was such a pleasant evening that I sat on the steps by the river again and had a nice long chat with a German pilgrim. Tomorrow I hope to reach Arca do Pino although I don´t really want to stay in the municipal albergue there. According to my guidebook it has mixed showers in open cubicles - not my idea of fun!

Day 32 - Photo

2009-08-30T11:45:00.001-07:00

My lovely peaceful room

Day 32 - Portomarin to Palas de Rei - 26km

2009-08-30T09:39:00.000-07:00

I was part of a busy Pilgrim March out of town when I set off as there were now more and more people on the Camino as we drew near to Santiago. The path started by crossing the river and then there was a long steep climb up through some woods. The day was overcast and misty, and very close as if there were a storm coming. It was two hours to the first cafe where I stopped for a much-needed break. In the cafe I saw loads of familiar faces including the German chap Marcel whom I´d left behind long ago nursing his poorly feet in the albergue on doctor´s orders. It was great to see he had actually recovered enough to continue his Camino. He said his feet were fine now after buying new footwear, and he must have been going fairly well to have caught me up.

Amongst the familiar faces was Wilma, a Canadian, and her daughter. Wilma had suffered a nasty accident some time previously and cut a tendon in her hand, which had involved a hospital stay, but she was still soldiering on, cast and all. With them was another Canadian, a nurse who worked with the Inuit. The fascinating thing about the Camino is that you meet people from all over the world, all ages and from the most varied backgrounds and occupations. My German friend was also there and we had a coffee together before I set off again.

The route followed the road for most of the day and there were rather a lot of ascents and descents. By now I could cope with these fairly well as my legs felt pretty strong and I marched up and down the hills with scarcely a pause. Maybe I should have paused more, although I didn´t know it I was about to start having problems. I passed the Danish lady with the knee supports from the previous day and also saw Sandi when I stopped for a bikkie break, but Kari was behind somewhere and never caught me up. The day continued muggy as well as misty until early afternoon and by the time I reached Palas de Rei I was pretty tired.

After the crowded albergue and stale air from the previous night I decided I deserved a break. For the first and only time I treated myself to a room with private bath in a hostal. This was unimagined luxury, a room with no-one else in it, my own bathroom, sheets, towels and endless hot water! After a quick snack for lunch I had a wonderful long shower then washed virtually all the clothes I had with me except those I was wearing. When I finished my lovely bathroom looked like a Chinese laundry.

I had a nice long snooze, reorganized my rucksack as I finally had enough space to spread everything out, then went out to dinner. I had originally planned to have a hamburger for a change but saw a place which had a nice-sounding pilgrim menu so I went there instead. The meal was the worst I had the entire trip. The famous Galician soup which I finally decided to try was like a watery and tasteless cabbage soup (I´m sure it´s really good elsewhere) while the casseroled lamb was very dry and accompanied by cold greasy chips. I left most of it but couldn´t face the hassle of complaining, what little I did eat sat uneasily for the rest of the night.

I went back to my room and had a pleasant quiet time doing sudoku in bed before a peaceful night - no snoring, no wind breakers, no creaking bunk beds. In fact it was so quiet I kept waking up. I probably missed all the noise and the cosy confinement of my sleeping bag.

Day 31 - Photos

2009-08-28T13:52:00.001-07:00

Leaving Barbadelo in the morning mist

My favourite photo

Reunion with Gunter at the 100km milestone

Heading upstream via these slabs was a little tricky

An "hórreo" near Portomarin

Curious cow

The town of Portomarin and the bridge leading to it

A steep flight of steps at the end of the bridge over the reservoir

The new and very large albergue in Portomarin

Day 31 - Barbadelo to Portomarin - 19km

2009-08-28T07:16:00.000-07:00

I took my time in the morning, having a leisurely coffee and apple tart in the catering caravan and chatting to an American, Kevin and his wife before leaving. I was planning on a shorter day and according to my map the route sounded ideal, being on quiet country roads, through woods and then on natural pathways. I knew my Camino was coming to an end, just a few days to go, and I wanted to appreciate every minute of it. By hanging back until the albergue was empty I avoided both having company and walking near chattering couples so that I could enjoy the birdsong and beautiful surroundings in peace.

It was misty and cool when I finally set off just before 8 and the half-visible trees looked wonderful and mysterious. I took what turned out to be my favourite picture of the whole trip there. It was a beautiful walk through fields and woods and I savoured every minute of it. After a break for coffee and Santiago tart in a spic and span modern cafe (nice change) I carried on, now enjoying great views as the mist had burnt off. The track was good underfoot and although undulated, not strenuous. What with the birds singing and passing through such lovely countryside it was a real joy to be walking.

I stopped to take a photo at the celebrated 100km milestone (only 100km to go!), and to my surprise and delight my friend Gunter turned up. It was great to see him again, but a pity he´d lost touch with Annette. That is what happens on the Camino, though. Our paths kept crossing for the rest of the day which was nice. I was walking slower than usual and pausing frequently to look around, and I couldn´t help noticing an elderly rather overweight gentleman who seemed to be really struggling to get along. I assumed he must have started in Sarria, and therefore was a "new" pilgrim going through the initial difficulties. I felt somewhat concerned as he looked like the ideal candidate for a heart attack. He plodded slowly along, grim faced, as we kept passing and re passing each other, and that night when I saw him at the albergue I was relieved to see he had made it. The route was getting rather crowded now as the early morning starters from Sarria caught me up but I still managed to walk alone most of the time, hanging back to allow noisy groups of teenagers pass out of earshot.

The path was very attractive with features such as stepping stones to cross streams and at one point going up a stream where you step on stone slabs to keep out of the water, a bit of a balancing act but having a stick helped. The day was heating up by then but there were plenty of shady trees along the way, except for the last downhill part which was a long hot road walk. I met a Danish lady using knee supports who was having a hard time and we walked together for a while. She´d been photographing one of the strange little buildings which I´d noticed in quite a few gardens and farms and I´d stopped to ask if she knew what they were. Apparently they are called "horreos" and are for drying and storing grain out of reach of rodents.

The road went past and through farms where curious cows came to watch me having a quick break in what little shade I could find, then in the distance I eventually caught sight of the reservoir and bridge I would have to cross to reach Portomarin. At the end of the bridge there was a long steep flight of steps up to the road, just what I didn´t need at that point, followed by a steep walk up into town. I found the albergue, and a long queue to get in but managed my usual bottom bunk. The albergue was new and very large (160 beds) and very busy. The town is also new as it was built when the old one was covered by the reservoir. The church of St Nicolás in the main square is of the original stone, dismantled and rebuilt in its present spot.

After dumping my stuff I went out for a tonic and a pizza for lunch and saw several familiar faces, including my German friend with whom I chatted for a while. She is in the same albergue but a different dorm. After a short snooze I was going to go shopping when I spotted my long-lost Canadian friends, Kari and Sandi, across the square just as they spotted me. After much shouting, waving and hugs we sat and caught up with each other´s news. It was so good to see them again after such a long time. Kari had been laid up with foot problems and they´d been behind me by a couple of days. They were with a Spanish friend and invited me to join them for a tour and dinner but I reluctantly decided not to go as the albergue closed at 10 and I didn´t want to make them shorten their evening just because I had a curfew. It was a great day for meeting old friends as later while shopping I also saw Mark and Shana who had given me the soap and we had dinner in the albergue.

My dorm must have had 50 or more people in it and I knew it was probably going to be a noisy night. I went to bed about 9:30 but didn´t get off to sleep for ages due to all the activity around me. I woke about 5:30 in the morning because of the snoring and decided to get up and see if I could get out and check on the weather as it had looked like a change was on the way. I went out of the sleeping albergue and sat outside for a bit, admiring the night sky and hoping the clouds didn´t signify rain for the following day. When I went back into my dorm the smell of stale air nearly bowled me over. It was as if there was no more oxygen left and there was an underlying odour of dirty socks and too many bodies. Luckily the cafe over the way had just switched its lights on and I went over for a coffee, their first customer, before returning to pack up and set off.

Day 30 - Photos

2009-08-26T11:53:00.001-07:00

One of many very muddy stretches

Nice spot for some water and chocolate biscuits

Going through Sarria, note the house sign on the right

The Xunta albergue in Barbadelo

View from the albergue patio

Day 30 - Samos to Barbadelo - 23km

2009-08-26T10:10:00.000-07:00

The dorm was noisy with snorers during the night so it wasn´t difficult to be up and off by the specified time. Luckily the bar over the road from the monastery was open and by 7:30 I was enjoying coffee and a snack. The route out of Samos followed the road initially then was signposted up a steep track, which did not agree with my map where the route continued along the road then followed a river. I decided to trust the yellow arrows while my German friend intended to stick to the road.

There then followed a strenuous and tiring stretch where the track wound up and down steeply past little farms and sheds where it was very muddy and full of cow dung. The places I passed through were not on my map although yellow arrows continued to appear and I saw the occasional confused pilgrim ahead of or behind me. Eventually the path improved after a very bewildering stretch and headed down to the river. I was following two Spanish pilgrims at this point, hoping they knew where they were going, and it appeared we were now on the right track. We found this out by stepping into the middle of the road in a small village to stop a bakers van and ask where we were. Although the path underfoot was now much improved there were still some very stiff climbs in and out of tiny hamlets where there was not a soul in sight as usual and there were large dogs loose, but thankfully no problem.

I stopped for a break perching on a tree stump, where I had some water and biscuits, then set off again. While swinging The Beast onto my back I managed somehow to rick my neck, which was a nuisance as I had to keep stretching it to stop it from stiffening up. The path eventually came out at a small cafe in a village 3km away from where it should have been (the path, not the village!). Here I enjoyed a much needed coffee and saw several familiar faces including my German friend. How she got there by a different route I don´t know. The rest of the way to Sarria followed the road, thank goodness and was very straightforward. I now had company for the rest of the day, a change as I preferred to walk alone at my own pace, but I tried to feel positive about it.

Sarria is the traditional town where many pilgrims start their pilgrimage. This is because in order to qualify for a "compostela" you must walk at least 100km to Santiago and Sarria is 117km away. This makes it a favourite starting point for people with less time, school parties and groups. This also means that there is a lot of competition for beds at the albergues from then on, the Camino is busier and some of the peace and tranquillity lost.

In Sarria I found a cyber cafe and checked that all was well on the home front (father OK but dog crying a lot - I´ll have to make it up to him when I get back) before continuing into town for my favourite toasted "mixto" and a tonic while my friend had the local speciality of Galician soup. I decided to carry on through town to a village 5km further on as it was still fairly early. The path was good but there were some more steep climbs and it was now also very hot. The albergue was in the countryside just past a small village, in a delightful setting with a nice view. It was my first official Xunta albergue, where they hand out disposable pillow and mattress covers and only charge 3 euros per night. It was small (22 beds) and clean, but the hot water had been used up so I had to have a cold shower.

There was a stationary catering caravan nearby under some magnificent trees and a marquee where you could sit in the shade so after my chores I enjoyed an ice-cream there before some sightseeing. Actually there wasn´t much to see apart from an old church dedicated to Santiago which was shut, so I went back to the albergue and had a snooze before having an evening snack in the caravan. I was accompanied the whole time and while trying to be charitable I was beginning to feel a bit cramped while at the same time I was feeling mean about my reaction to the situation. Having a stiff neck didn´t help so an early night seemed the order for the day.

Day 29 - Photos

2009-08-24T14:26:00.001-07:00

A lovely view after the mist had cleared

Not quite the bull run in Pamplona, but it felt like it from where I was standing

The Benedictine monastery at Samos

The beautifully decorated dorm at Samos

These bunk beds mean you could sleep cheek by jowl with a total stranger

Did medieval pilgrims bathe their feet in this idyllic spot?

Even the footbridges have a scallop shell motif

Day 29 - Alto de Poio to Samos - 22km

2009-08-24T09:20:00.000-07:00

I was on my way in the morning by 7:30 after a quick coffee, to find I was walking in thick mist with occasional glimpses of the sun. The first 3km were by road which was just as well under those conditions as at least I couldn't get lost. When I did eventually leave the road the path was good underfoot and the mist was lifting. I managed to reach an albergue just before it closed and had a quick coffee. If I'd carried on for another hour the previous day this is where I would have stayed, a much nicer option I later heard.

As the mist cleared there were lovely views since I was still quite high up, reminding me once again of the Lake District in England where I cut my eyeteeth as a walker in another lifetime. The path was now dropping down but thankfully not as steeply as I had feared. It went through several small villages where the mud on the track was enriched with cow pats, making a nice gooey mixture you had to plod through for yards at a time while inhaling the farmyard odours. The mire stuck to my trainers and in the worst parts was deep enough to seep in and wet my socks. In one hamlet just before Triacastela I saw a cow coming towards me rather quickly down the very narrow street and managed to step into a doorway just in time as it was followed by the rest of the herd all moving at a fast trot, horns waving! While on the subject of animals, many villages and farms had large dogs wandering loose, a cause for some concern as they were big. My stick gave me confidence, but I always approached carefully walking slowly but steadily, as far away from their territory as space allowed, and I never looked them in the eye or looked back. This seemed to work as I didn't have any trouble despite a few hairy moments. I heard of other pilgrims who fared worse.

At Triacastela I decided to take the Samos route to Sarria as I fancied staying in an albergue in a monastery. This route was longer but sounded much nicer as it followed a river valley all the way. Before leaving Triacastela I chatted with a German pilgrim who had been in the next bunk to mine the previous night and she said she was also heading to Samos. I should have stopped to eat something there as I was feeling hungry, but there was a cafe further on according to my map so I thought I'd wait. It was a very pleasant 12km walk by the River Ouribio although the path tended to join the road now and then up and down some very steep stretches. The miserable weather from the previous day had vanished as if it had never been and it was sunny and getting quite hot as I went along.

I reached the cafe I was aiming for, but it was so grubby I didn't dare have a coffee let alone eat anything, so I settled for a lukewarm tonic water. The German lady and I kept passing each other during the afternoon as one or the other took a break and I could see she was really feeling the heat. For the last kilometre I decided to stick to the road as the climbs up and down seemed rather pointless and I was also getting tired at this point. The albergue was nearly empty when I arrived and I got my usual bottom bunk in a wonderfully decorated dormitory, with all sorts of figures painted on the walls. I dumped my stuff and went for a bite to eat before the usual chores including washing my smelly socks. The washing line was over the other side of a busy road which made for interesting trips with dripping clothes.

The Benedictine monastery in Samos is one of the oldest in Spain. It is an impressive sight, enormous and imposing in its setting by the river. There are half hour tours but I didn't go on one and later heard that you didn't get to see that much of it. Instead I went shopping and bought some much-needed deodorant to replace the one I'd inadvertently left behind in Cacabelos. When I got back to the albergue the German pilgrim had arrived and also an elderly gentleman who kept trying to have long conversations with me in German despite my efforts to convince him I didn't speak the language. I escaped over the road for a pilgrim dinner which started with such a large seafood salad I couldn't finish it all, followed by some skewered meat and chips and rounded off with Santiago tart ( a delicious almond tart with the Santiago cross dusted onto it in sugar). I was also given a bottle of wine, all for eight euros. After consuming that lot (I didn't finish the bottle of wine!) and saying goodbye to the Swiss couple I'd been chatting to, I went for a stroll in a lovely area by the river before having an early night as at this albergue we had be packed and out by 7:30 in the morning.

Day 28 - Photos

2009-08-21T12:19:00.000-07:00

Approaching O´Cebreiro - I think the face says it all...

You can see enough to wish for more

Clearest view of the day

The mist comes down again

The Posada Alto do Poio, barely visible

Day 28 - Vega de Valcarce to Alto do Poio - 22km

2009-08-21T05:44:00.000-07:00

From Vega de Valcarce to O'Cebreiro it is uphill all the way, climbing 700m in 12km. There is a choice of road or track, the former being recommended in wet misty weather and the one I chose because it was precisely that. I set off at about 8 after coffee and biscuits and although the road was steep I made good going. I think by now my legs were pretty fit and going uphill however steeply at a steady pace was no longer so difficult. The road climbed through dripping woods and I caught occasional glimpses of beautiful scenery whenever the mist lifted. It was quite frustrating not to be able to see the view properly. At the back of my mind was a newspaper report I had read some months previously about a full-grown bear that was hit and killed around here by a car. The tune to ''Teddybear's Picnic'' kept running through my mind and I hoped there weren't any about.

The rain continued and because of my exertions I was perspiring so much that my poncho was wet inside and and out, a rather uncomfortable sensation. I stopped in Herrerías for a second coffee break and when I left to continue on the road an old lady stuck her head out of a window and was most insistent that I was going the wrong way and kept pointing up the track. She was getting so upset that I weakly gave in and followed her pointing finger. Underfoot it was now muddy, rocky and very hard going so I was thankful to stop again at another village for a tonic water, unable to face yet another coffee. This place was rather unfriendly as I got shouted at for thoughtlessly coming in still wearing my poncho and was chased by a mop-wielding woman. Galicia is known for its rain so they should have been used to wet pilgrims in that bar, a place to hang wet waterproofs outside would have been useful.

Further on I reached the boundary marker showing that I was entering Galicia. I was hungry by now but the track wound round the mountainside through fields with dripping hedges and there was nowhere to sit, so I stood and ate a sandwich in the rain by the side of the path. A group of elderly tourists were shepherded past me at this point by their two guides. One of the guides told me they were on a day trip and that the clients were dropped off from their coach at different distances along the way according to their walking abilities. A nice idea but a bit amusing to someone who had just walked over 600km...

I reached the top, at the village of O'Cebreiro, shortly after. It looked a small, picturesque spot with little stone cottages, restaurants and shops, rather like the Lake District . Also, like the Lake District in high season, it was heaving with day trippers and school parties wandering around in the perpetual drizzle. I sheltered on a stone wall by the church and ate some cherries (I do like them!) then decided to leave without looking around. I was feeling cold and damp by then as well as tired after the long hard climb and it was another 5.5km to the albergue I was aiming for.

The problem was finding my way out of the village. According to my map the route now followed a road, and there were yellow arrows pointing in this direction. At the same time there were also yellow arrows pointing up a track. The whole situation was not helped by the thick mist which now descended, accompanied by wind and continuing drizzle. A couple set off up the track and a lone pilgrim set off down the road, his waterproof snapping smartly in the wind. I decided to go for the road, which was actually more of a highway, but thankfully with very little traffic. The pilgrim ahead of me disappeared very quickly in the mist and after a couple of kilometres downhill I was having serious doubts about whether I was on the right road. I debated going back to O'Cebreiro but couldn't face the long steep hill back up. The mist was still thick despite the wind and visibility was poor, so I hadn't a clue where I was but I decided to keep going.

Thankfully after another kilometre or so I reached Liñares and realised I was on the right road after all, which was an enormous relief. The road climbed after this and I passed a well known and much photographed pilgrim monument which I couldn't see properly because of the mist, so I didn't pause but just carried on, by now on a very muddy track through some woods. When I finally reached Hospital de la Condessa it was a real blow to be told the albergue was closed due to building works. The next one was over 3km away, up a steep hill. I ignored signs showing an off-road track and kept plodding along up the never-ending slope until I finally reached Alto do Poio Pousada. It wasn't an albergue but as well as rooms there was a dorm with some bunk beds in the attic. The arrangements were rather makeshift and there was only one grubby shower/toilet for all but at this point in the proceedings I would have taken anything. They charged 18 euros but this did include an evening meal. My trainers were wet and muddy, my clothes were damp, my rucksack was damp, even my map was damp. I took my trainers off and crawled into my bunk damp clothes and all, pulled up a heavy blanket and was dead to the world for a couple of hours. Dinner was very good, by the way.

Day 27 - Photos

2009-08-20T14:39:00.001-07:00

Stacked timber in the woods, one of the few photos I took on a rainy day

The Brazilian albergue in Villafranca

Pilgrims and hospitaleira in the albergue

Day 27 - Cacabelos to Vega de Valcarce - 27km

2009-08-20T09:20:00.000-07:00

It was raining in the morning and I was not in a hurry to leave, waiting to see if it would stop or ease up. While I was hanging about Mark, the American, asked if I wanted a bar of soap which by coincidence was something I'd run out of. He'd had to buy a packet of three bars and didn't want to carry the extra weight. Lucky me! I left about eight although it was still raining as that is the time they throw you out of albergues. The route led initially along a quiet minor road then branched off onto a dirt track which went through small villages and vineyards. It was a bit hilly in places but nothing too demanding and it was nice to be out in the countryside again despite the rain on and off.

My foot was fine (did that gel really help?) and I was looking forward to staying in a Brazilian albergue that night. Jan overtook me and we walked into Villafranca del Bierzo together, a most interesting looking place that really deserved a full day's visit but where we only stopped for a coffee. After Villafranca there is a choice of three routes, the high, strenuous, long Pradela (which Jan chose), the very long, remote and poorly marked Dragonte, and the N-VI route along the former highway (which I chose). I was really pleased with my choice as there was a yellow(!) concrete track for pilgrims alongside the road with a crash barrier to protect you from the very occasional traffic, most of which now used the new motorway. The route ran through a beautiful river gorge with towering cliffs on either side and I wondered how Jan was getting on up there - I later found he'd had second thoughts about tackling the strenuous option and was behind me on the same route.

Every now and then the path left the road to meander through little villages and back again to the road, going through splendid chestnut woods where there were huge stacks of cut timber drying off. The villages were ideal places to have little breaks, a coffee in one (very nice bar just like a pub) and sharing a cheese sandwich with a cat on a bench in another. I was still going strong when I finally reached Vega de Valcarce despite the distance I'd covered. Here I found the Brazilian albergue which I'd been looking forward to as a bit of ''home from home''.

They gave me a warm welcome but I was disappointed to find that they charged almost double the going rate for meals, so I only paid for my bunk and had a scratch evening meal by myself later on after doing some shopping in the village. It wasn't so much that I didn't want to spend the money, I could afford it after all, but I felt it was a bit of a rip-off. I have to say that they had the best showers on the entire Camino, though. In some places the showers are cold or lukewarm at best, with not much more than a trickle coming out overhead, or from a hand held spray. Then there are those with a timer, a button you have to keep pushing every few seconds as the water cuts out before it even has time to reach a decent temperature. And of course the difficulty of dressing and undressing in a wet cubicle in a mixed bathroom. Here there was a ladies toilet/bathroom with somewhere to leave your clothes outside the cubicle and lashings of nice hot water from a strong overhead spray - heaven!

It was rather chilly in the reception/sitting/dining area which was all one room, and I had hoped they'd light the fire as it was still raining and rather gloomy in there, but no luck. Towards the end of my meal, when I was polishing off a pound of cherries, I was joined by a young Japanese cyclist who was most interesting to talk to. Keise had left Japan by bike about one year previously and had been cycling ever since, including passing through Tibet during the Olympic protests. He intended to cycle to Portugal after Santiago and fly home from Lisbon, bringing his marathon journey to an end. His tales were quite fascinating and I could have listened to him for hours, but I was feeling too cold and went to bed to try and get warm although it was only 8:30. An early night was a good idea as the following day I was going to face the dreaded O'Cebreiro, supposedly one of the hardest climbs on the Camino.

Day 26 - Photos

2009-08-19T14:39:00.000-07:00

Changeable weather first thing in the morning

No cafes or bars on the way to Ponferrada, but nice little houses

A field of poppies on the outskirts of a village

Storks will nest anywhere...

Sitting on the bed in my cubicle

View of the motel-like two bedded rooms around the courtyard

Day 26 - Molinaseca to Cacabelos - 25km

2009-08-19T09:32:00.000-07:00

As I was leaving next morning I saw that one of the German lads had slept outside the church where there was a row of bunk beds down the side to take any overflow of pilgrims. These were without mattresses and he was sound asleep in his bag on a foam mat on the stone floor. I'd chatted briefly to him and his friend the previous evening when he shown me the face he had carved on his wooden walking stick. I didn't envy him sleeping outside, it must have been very cold.

The 6km to Ponferrada went through villages and suburbs, with not a single cafe or bar open so I was more than ready for some food and coffee when I reached town. There was a bar with outside tables in a square near the beautiful Castillo de los Templarios, a Crusader castle, and while I sat there enjoying my breakfast more and more friends and familiar faces turned up. Leaving there was a long tramp through suburbs at first, not particularly interesting and a bit difficult to find the way. I was grateful for the occasional glimpse of other pilgrims to make sure I was on the right track.

It was another cold, windy day and I was feeling tired from my exertions of yesterday so I was going fairly slowly. My left foot was also painful from the strain of coming down over all those loose rocks hour after hour. I hadn't twisted or sprained it and was hoping it would get better quickly. The pain was in a strange place, on top of my foot, what I think is called the bridge - the bit under the laces, anyway! After eventually leaving the suburbs there were a couple of villages and then a nice stretch through some vineyards before arriving in Cacabelos, where I was disappointed to see the albergue was once again right through and out the other side of town. I actually found it in the end by following the two German lads.

This albergue had a strange motel-style layout. Accommodation was in twin bedded rooms like cubicles, running around a central area where there were tables and benches covered by a roof but not enclosed. There were showers but no kitchen. I initially had a room to myself but was joined by a Canadian girl shortly after. I showered and did some washing although I knew it wouldn't dry properly even hanging under shelter as it was still raining and damp. Whenever my washing didn't dry properly I carried it sealed in a ziplock bag to the next albergue and hung it up again. By then it would usually dry well enough hanging over the end of my bunk.

Later I managed to check my e-mails and was relieved to find my father was recovering from his health problems, so chores done I went into town to buy some food and some soothing gel for my foot. In the early stages of the Camino I'd noticed that the dorms at night positively reeked of liniment and embrocations as weary pilgrims massaged their tired legs and feet. I found the strong menthol smell very pleasant and was probably just looking for an excuse to buy some for myself. I didn't know what it was called but the chemist kindly let me smell some tubes until I found the right one!

Eating and drinking was forbidden in the rooms, but the only place to sit was at a table outside, exposed to the elements - and it was still raining - so I had a discreet picnic perched on my bed. My roommate went out and came back very late so I spent some time chatting to the two German lads who were in the next cubicle. It turned out one of them was a paramedic ambulance driver, which taught me not to judge people by their appearance - I'd taken them for a pair of carefree students out walking for a lark.

Day 25 - Photos

2009-08-18T14:17:00.000-07:00

Wildflowers by the side of the path

Standing by the Cruz de Ferro after placing my crystal there

The strange refuge in Manjarín

Beginning of the long long way down

Traditional old house in a hamlet, I think this one was was still occupied

Now, which bunk did the Pope sleep in?

The albergue in a converted medieval church in Molinaseca

Day 25 - Rabanal to Molinaseca - 30km

2009-08-18T09:46:00.000-07:00

The albergue gave us breakfast in the morning which was a good way to start what was going to be a long strenuous day as I intended to try to reach Molinaseca, 30km away, and in between it meant climbing to the highest point on the Camino, up and over another mountain and a steep long descent. I was concerned about the ascent but in the event did not find it too taxing, the track was good and I stopped for a nice ''donativo'' coffee in the albergue in Foncebadon then followed the road up to the Cruz de Ferro, the first high point.

The Cruz de Ferro, a famous landmark, is a tall pole with a cross on top originally meant to help the pilgrims find their way across the mountains. Pilgrims traditionally leave a stone brought from home at the foot of the cross and there is now a large mound of them. I had brought my mother's favourite crystal rock with me which I found amongst her things when she died a couple of years ago and scrambled up the mound to leave it by the pole. The day was overcast with rain threatening and it was very cold and windy in such a high exposed place. I didn't linger but set of following the track which became rough and rocky as it dropped down then rose to the highest point, even higher (at 1,515m) than the crossing of the Pyrenees at the beginning of the Camino from France into Spain.

On the way I visited the simple refuge in the abandoned hamlet of Manjarín out of curiosity but did not stop for long. It is a strange place where the owner devotes himself to offering shelter to pilgrims all year round in this desolate spot with a few bunks, no heating, an outdoor kitchen and no showers. I knew I still had a long way to go so I kept moving, which also helped me to keep warm. The track was getting rougher and more treacherous with loose rock while the descent became steeper and I was worried about falling or twisting an ankle, so despite knowing I had far to go I was walking more and more slowly. Just before reaching the village of El Acebo I was overtaken by three French walkers going too fast in my opinion. Shortly after I came round a bend in the path and saw two of them bent over the third who had fallen and knocked herself unconscious. Because of communication problems (I don't speak French and they didn't speak English or Spanish) I wasn't much use, but I stayed with them until she started recovering consciousness and I saw help arriving from the village just below where the Brazilian pilgrims had gone to sound the alarm.

After a coffee in the village I carried on down the awful track which seemed to go on for ever. I kept passing and being passed by familiar faces including John from Australia, the Brazilian couple and an American couple Mark and Shana who were very friendly. I kept taking short breaks but eventually reached Molinaseca, where I found the albergue I had chosen was right the other side of town. This albergue was most unusual, in a converted medieval church with the dorm in the attic over a sort of sunken sitting area below where there was an open fire. The heat from the fire drifted up and it was nice and warm. Later chatting to the Japanese hospitaleiro I was told that the pope, before becoming pope, had stayed in this albergue although no-one knew which bunk he had slept in. I wonder if it was mine?

There were no shops or restaurants so far from town and I felt too tired to walk all the way back, so I opted for the pilgrim menu in a private albergue back a short way up the road. This was an excellent choice as I spent the evening with quite a few friends, drinking wine and chatting and having a nice dinner before a cosy night in my warm dormitory.

Day 24 - Photos

2009-08-17T14:38:00.001-07:00

A pebble arrow shows the way between the flowering bushes

A ruined cottage in a little hamlet on the way to Rabanal

Crosses woven into the fence by pilgrims

With some Brazilian cyclists (and a Brazilian pilgrim) in Rabanal

Afternoon tea, anyone?

Day 24 - Astorga to Rabanal del Camino - 24km

2009-08-17T10:02:00.000-07:00

I left before 7 in the morning, passing the famous Gaudi building on my way out of Astorga. Initially the way was level and excellent underfoot and I stopped a couple of times for coffee breaks as I went along. It was windy and rather cold but hot in the sun when it came out. The path ran between a lovely long stretch of bushes covered in yellow flowers (Broom? Gorse?) and where there was no place to paint arrows some had been outlined on the path with stones. Eventually the route drew away more from the road and then became hilly and full of tree roots underfoot which made it very tiring as I had to walk looking down all the time in order not to trip.

It was tempting to join the nearby road again instead of scrambling up down the path through the woods, but I couldn't be sure the Camino wouldn't branch off somewhere, and also the road was rather narrow and full of dips, not pedestrian-friendly. So I persevered and stuck to the proper path which now had a wire fence running alongside for a very long way. Interwoven in the fence were crosses made of twigs, a pilgrim custom, and I added one of my own to the collection.

Since I'd had a bad night I was tired by the time I reached Rabanal at 1 in the afternoon. I wanted to stay at the albergue run by the English Confraternity of St James which unfortunately didn't open until 2. There was a notice pinned to the door saying there were only 28 beds available, but after a quick count of the pilgrims queuing up I joined them as there were only around 20 so far. It was unfortunate that at this point a very cold wind got up and it started to rain. A few lucky ones were able to shelter near the door but the rest of us and our rucksacks were left exposed to the elements.

Despite the inclement weather the doors did not open until just after 2 which I thought was unnecessarily ''sticking to the rules'' as there was a spacious porch which could have accommodated us all out of the rain even if they weren't ready to admit us to the albergue. When we were being admitted they had a long chat with each pilgrim while signing them in so that it took nearly an hour for the 28 beds to be allocated. The unfortunate few who had to be turned away had waited all that time for nothing. I know hospitaleiros are hardworking volunteers, good well-meaning people doing their bit for the Camino, but I must admit I was disappointed with the lack of efficiency and consideration at this particular place. While we had been waiting outside two of the hospitaleiros had arrived by car with some shopping and were let in by a third one, so they knew (and commented) about the queue and could see what the weather was like.

I saw a few old friends there, including Jan from England and John from Australia as well as the Brazilian couple I'd consulted about the way after Leon. After a rest and my chores I went for a communal afternoon tea in the dining room, the only albergue which offered this treat. Then it was shopping, an evening meal, a chat round the fire and an early night which thankfully was undisturbed this time.

Day 23 - Photos

2009-08-14T10:50:00.000-07:00

The ancient bridge into Hospital de Órbigo

A strange memorial...

The figures strike the hour on the bell

A rainbow from the terrace of the albergue

Gaudi building in Astorga

Day 23 - Mazarife to Astorga - 31km

2009-08-14T06:06:00.000-07:00

After some calculating the previous evening I had worked out that I only had 299km to go, so I was all enthusiastic in the morning and up and off by 6:30. I hadn't decided how far I was going to walk that day but there were albergues at reasonable intervals so I intended to keep going and see how far I managed to get. The first part of the route was 6km along a road, straight and rather boring but good going. After leaving the road I passed through an area where there had been some tree felling so there was a good place to sit and have my usual breakfast of water and chocolate biscuits. Shortly after I came to a village where I stopped for a coffee in what appeared to be the only bar there. It was large, completely empty and poorly stocked with food, which surprised me as they must have a monopoly on all the pilgrim traffic passing through. Their ladie's was so malodorous that I nearly gave it a miss, but needs must.

A few kilometres further on I came to Hospital de Órbigo, crossing over a magnificent bridge, one of the oldest in Spain. It was over 200m long, with 20 arches, and is called Puente del Paso Honroso. I had thought of stopping in Hospital as it looked interesting but I'd only done 15km so far and when I got into town I also found there was a fiesta being set up which meant accommodation would be scant and the night noisy so I carried on. I stopped on my way out of town to sit on a bench and have a quick snack. Although the day was sunny it was pretty chilly in the shade and there was a cold wind blowing so I didn't stop for long. While I was sitting there I watched quite a few pilgrims trying to decide which of the two routes to take as once again there was a choice of following the road or going across country, with yellow arrows pointing in both directions.

I opted again for the country route and the path started heading uphill fairly soon. In the last village before Astorga, 10km away, I had to decide whether to stay there or carry on. The place looked somewhat seedy and I wasn't tired yet so I reluctantly bought a bocadillo for lunch since they didn't have anything else and kept going. The next stretch was hilly and rather solitary and the track was very stony and tiring to walk on. I stopped and ate half my bocadillo at a strange spot where there was a full-size dummy dressed as a pilgrim by a tree with a bench and table and little monuments around. I couldn't make out whether it was a memorial to a pilgrim who had died during their Camino or what, but I stopped there anyway to get my breath back after the climb and eat. A few pilgrims passed while I was there but no familiar faces, I was either behind or getting ahead of my network as I was seeing fewer and fewer of them every day.

The surroundings were a mixture of woods, cultivated fields and wild areas and the stony path undulated up and down quite a bit, eventually climbing to a high point by a cross where you had excellent views from the rest area there. I was joined by two German lads I had been seeing on and off for the last couple of weeks. The taller one had helped me earlier on in the afternoon when I'd been unsure of the way at one point. I had noticed that he sometimes slept out as he said he was a bit short of cash. The way downhill was very steep and I took it slowly until the path levelled off through the suburbs and meandered past some industrial areas before finally arriving in Astorga. I got there at about 3:30, It had been a long day, nine hours including short breaks, but I was really pleased at the distance I'd covered and the fact that I didn't feel shattered at the end of it.

I thought I was in luck at the albergue as I was given a bottom bunk in a six-bed dorm with only one other occupant, a very elderly gentleman lying flat on his back with arms crossed over his chest, looking much like an effigy. After a brief rest I went for a quick look round as there were some Roman ruins I wanted to see and to do some shopping. I bumped into Lisa while I was out and we went for a coffee and chat. It was quite cold and drizzling and I soon returned to the albergue and the usual chores. I managed to check my e-mails but there was no news from home so I was still concerned about my father. I had the rest of my bocadillo with some wine for dinner, sitting out on a sheltered terrace near the familiar quiet French couple I kept seeing. My dorm had filled up and two of the men, both cyclists, were very bad snorers. As the first started up his friend who was still awake kept snapping his fingers at him. This worked a few times but then the second one fell asleep and they both roared away. In the early morning it was so bad I got up before dawn and went and sat on the terrace again and watched the day break over the surrounding countryside.

Day 22 - Photos

2009-08-13T14:16:00.001-07:00

Upmarket bodegas on the outskirts of Leon

A field of massive solar panels on the way to Mazarife

Another San Tiago, with Tio Pepe´s bar in background

The albergue in Mazarife - not modest about advertising its facilities

Day 22 - Leon to Mazarife - 24km

2009-08-13T09:20:00.000-07:00

The nuns gave us all breakfast in the morning and by 6:45 I was on my way. Because I was earlier than usual I was part of the ''March of the Pilgrims'' as I called the daily morning rush when all the pilgrims hit the road. This was very useful as the way out of Leon is supposed to be difficult to spot but all I had to do was follow the rucksacks ahead of me. It took a long time to reach the suburbs where I saw more of the hobbit-like bodegas, larger and fancier than their country cousins. I was surprised to reach the first village, La Virgen del Camino, without having left the suburbs, but I stopped there for a large coffee and pastry anyway.

After leaving La Virgen there was a choice of three routes, two went to Villadangos - one beside a main road and the other beside a railway line, and one went across country to Mazarife. This last was the recommended path and I decided to take it as it looked a lot pleasanter, although finding the start of it was a bit of a problem since my map appeared to be wrong. I hung around looking for someone to ask, eventually approaching a passing Brazilian couple but they were taking the road route and couldn't help me (I saw them a few days later and they said their path had been awful). I set off in what I hoped was the right direction although the yellow arrows on the ground did not agree with my map. After about a kilometre uphill through some wasteland I felt sure I was wrong and went back down to the main road, frustrated. There I met two Germans who were also heading for Mazarife and were sure my path had been the correct one. They set off along it and I thought ''to heck with it" and climbed the hill again hoping they were right. They turned out to be and I made a resolution that in future I would trust the yellow arrows more!

The path now went through pleasant countryside, was good underfoot and not too hilly, and the storm from the previous night had cleared away to leave a sunny day. I made very good going and my back was not hurting - I'd started wearing my rucksack even higher and with very loose straps as this seemed to help. I reached Mazarife by 1pm and booked into a virtually empty private albergue, the first one on the way into the village. It had a nice large dorm and the bunk beds were not crowded next to each other which made a nice change.

After the usual chores I managed to spend quite a while on the Internet as there was no time limit and no-one waiting to use it. I had a message to say my father was not at all well, which was rather worrying, but there was not much I could do except hope for more positive news over the next few days. I went out for a glass of wine and to do some shopping and bumped into Gunter in the village. He and Annette were in another albergue which sounded much friendlier and livelier than mine. I arranged to drop by later that evening after I'd had my pilgrim dinner, an extremely good meal at Tio Pepe's, but I took so long over it that by the time I arrived at their place there was no-one there. I think they'd probably gone out to a bar and since I'd just left one I decided to have an early night. My albergue was only half full, therefore quiet, and for the first time I slept straight through the night without waking up once.

Day 21 - Photos

2009-08-12T15:04:00.001-07:00

Narrow streets in the old part of the city of Leon

Pilgrim´s footprint set in the pavement

The Cathedral

Stained glass windows in Leon Cathedral

The green man running - or at least his legs are

Don´t know what he´s doing in Leon, but there you go...

Day 21 - Mansilla to Leon - 18km

2009-08-12T09:10:00.000-07:00

I was up early in the morning because of the noise in the dorm. There was no point in just lying there in my sleeping bag once I was awake even though I did not intend to have an early start. I had decided, together with Gunter and Annette, to get a bus into Leon instead of walking. This was partly due to the day's route following a main road through an area of industrial activity, but mainly due to the existence of a dangerous crossing over the busy dual carriageway with fast moving traffic coming round a blind bend in either direction. Both my guidebook and map book gave warnings about this stretch as also did the pilgrim forum of which I am a member. I had meant to walk part of the way and catch a bus before the crossing but decided it would be nice to have company on the way in. I only went by bus twice on my Camino, the other time being into Burgos and the journeys added up to about 25km which I think was acceptable compared to the nearly 800km I walked. I'm not a purist who intended to walk every step of the way but neither did I want to hop on a bus whenever I felt tired. Getting to Leon like this also meant I could treat myself to my first (and only) day off and fit in some tourism.

I packed my rucksack and waited for Gunter and Annette in the geranium-filled courtyard and then we all went for breakfast in a bar before catching our bus. In Leon the albergue was in the Santa Maria convent with the Madres Benedictinas. We arrived just as they were closing for the morning and were able to dump our stuff before having a coffee and then going our separate ways for various errands. You have to take advantage of being in a large town or city to do all sorts of things which you can't in a small village. This, in my case, included going to Burger King for lunch!

I walked around sightseeing in the narrow streets of the old city, visited the beautiful cathedral with its magnificent stained glass and sat in a sidewalk café. There I was very pleased to be joined by my Australian friend John. The last time I had seen him, several days previously, he had not been at all well. I was having an early morning coffee break outside a bar in a village before Sahagun when he arrived looking decidedly poorly. He said he hadn't slept all night and needed somewhere to crash out. I helped him get a room at the bar and then left, hoping he would be all right. I knew he had some health issues and over the next few days I had wondered from time to time how he was getting on, so I was really pleased to see him again. He stopped for a quick drink and a chat then left while I waited for Gunter and Annette and then we went and signed in at the now-open albergue.

One thing I noticed in Leon which really amused me was the traffic lights at pedestrian crossings. If the lights were against you there was a stationary red man with a clock above showing how many seconds remained until the lights changed. When they did change a green man appeared walking slowly with the clock above him giving a countdown of how many seconds you had to get across. As the number of seconds decreased he started walking faster and faster and then running so that when about five seconds remained he was dashing along full pelt. I found this so amusing that I stood for a while just watching the lights keep changing. I tried to photograph the green man but the top half of his running body didn't come out for some reason.

At the albergue I was in a female-only dorm, which made a nice change. After the usual chores I went out to dinner with Gunter and Annette and then we hurried back for a special pilgrim service and blessing held by the nuns in their church attached to the convent. While I enjoyed the service I much preferred the informal one with the three nuns in Carrión where everyone sat on the stairs and floor. No men in the dorm meant less or quieter snoring but unfortunately the night was disturbed by a long thunder storm with the room being lit up by flashes of lightning. At least it faded away towards morning and I was able to get some sleep. One thing which I don't think I've mentioned so far is the very vivid dreams I was having most nights, strange dreams about home, family and friends. Apparently this is a fairly common phenomenon as several other pilgrims mentioned having vivid dreams too. Not surprisingly this night I dreamt that my home was being invaded by raging flood waters!

Day 20 - Photos

2009-08-11T14:20:00.000-07:00

Morning view of distant mountains

My early morning shadow on the crops

Completely flat and featureless landscape on the way to Mansilla

Day 20 - Calzadilla to Mansilla de las Mulas - 25km

2009-08-11T09:09:00.000-07:00

The track to Mansilla was once again the Roman Via Trajana, 25km of rough stony path through the meseta with no shelter, shade, food or water. After having some fruit for breakfast I left early, at 6:30, without seeing the hoverer from the night before. Despite my early start I was the last but one to leave, the last pilgrim being a cyclist. The day started out nice and cool and misty but soon started warming up. After the cyclist overtook me I knew there was no-one behind me for a long, long way. This is useful to know when you may have to pay a quick visit behind a very low bush!

I had a second breakfast of water and chocolate biscuits sitting on the edge of a field which for some unknown reason made me think of English farmworkers resting from their labours during the second World War. I have absolutely no idea where this thought came from, I wasn't even born then. Afterwards I made good time until about halfway. By then I was beginning to find the stones underfoot rather tiring and my back was beginning to hurt so I started taking short frequent breaks although there wasn't really anywhere to sit. At one place, near a level crossing, there were slightly raised banks by a stream which gave me somewhere to perch while I had a snack. My meal was accompanied by a froggy chorus which started up every time I kept still for a few minutes. The frogs appeared to be all around me in the rushes as well as in the stream but they were very difficult to spot.

The heat had built up by now, so the last thing I wanted was to lose my way, but the yellow arrows and signs became very confusing further on. There were temporary cardboard signs pointing in completely the wrong direction saying 'alternative route' then shortly more signs saying the same thing but pointing somewhere else and none of them agreed with my map. Since the path carried on I thought I would too instead of trying these other routes, and see what happened. Then ahead of me I spotted a couple hesitating by the path. When I drew close I could see they had paused before a very deep and very wide ditch cut into the ground at right angles to the path. The ditch disappeared into the distance in both directions and far away I could see some men and earth-moving equipment. The couple decided to scramble across the ditch, throwing their rucksacks down before them. The earth sides were almost vertical and four or more metres deep and even if I could get down I didn't think I'd make it up the other side, apart from the fact that it didn't really make sense. The hundreds of pilgrims passing that way were surely not taking such a risk.

I decided to consult the men in the distance and reluctantly trudged off towards them, feeling increasingly annoyed and frustrated as I felt sure I was adding on more kilometres to an already long and tiring walk. Eventually I reached them and found out it was the end of the ditch, which was actually a new irrigation channel under construction. I felt dwarfed by the massive vehicles but managed to call up to one of the men and ask where the Camino was. He casually waved in the general direction of a dirt road. I wasn't sure he'd understood my question but I followed his instructions and set off again. I also wasn't sure whether I was now heading towards Mansilla, as I intended, or Reliegos on an alternative Camino but it didn't really matter so long as I arrived somewhere.

Far ahead of me I saw the couple again, on a path which joined my dirt road, so we were all going the same way which was reassuring. Then followed a very tiring hot walk along a road which appeared to be never-ending. All I wanted to do was sit and rest, but with nowhere to stop and no shade I had to just keep going. After what must have been a couple of hours I was on the outskirts of what turned out to be Mansilla, my original destination. There was an upmarket hotel by the roadside and regardless of appearances I plonked myself down on the kerb in their carpark where there was some shade. I then proceeded to consume everything edible in my pack and to drink all my water. After recovering somewhat I walked into town and found the albergue, where the elderly hospitaleiro insisted on carrying my rucksack up to my dorm for me, a real gentleman. Despite arriving later than most I still managed to get a bottom bunk, again.

I dumped my stuff and went out to get something to drink and saw Gunter and Annette sitting outside a bar. I went to join them and after one look at my face Gunter rushed to get me some wine and tapas which he kindly treated me to. Both they and other people I spoke to had all had the same problem finding their way around the earthworks which bisected the path. I hope the signs are improved soon as it is no joke getting lost in an isolated spot at the end of a long day. Still, all's well that ends well. I went and had a couple of hours snooze and found I was aching all over when I woke up, but after a nice shower I sat chatting to Lisa whom I ran across in the delightful courtyard of the albergue where the walls are covered with geraniums, and afterwards went for an excellent pilgrim meal.

Day 19 - Photos

2009-08-09T11:35:00.000-07:00

Hobbit-like wine cellars

Annette, Gunter and Lisa after enjoying lunch

Not "one for the road" but one on the road

Local ladies enjoying a nice gossip in the shade

Day 19 - Terradillos to Calzadilla de los Hermanillos - 27km

2009-08-09T09:44:00.000-07:00

After eating a couple of bananas for breakfast I left Terradillos before 7 when it was still nice and cool. On the way I passed some strange hobbit-like buildings in the side of a hill. Only the door and chimney of each were visible. I later found out they were called "bodegas" and were wine cellars each belonging to a family, and that some of them had been fitted out and furnished quite comfortably . I paused in the first village, Moratinos, and tried to spot Rebekah Scott´s house which I wanted to photograph. She is an American married to an Englishman and very helpful and supportive to all pilgrims. I am following her blog about her life in Spain and would have liked to stop and say hello but didn´t feel she´d appreciate a visit at about 7:30 in the morning so after a quick look around and failing to find the house for a photo, I carried on.

The route into Sahagun runs parallel to a road and was pretty good. I reached there about 12, had a break and then carried on after getting a bit lost finding my way out of town. Sahagun is considered the halfway mark on the Camino, so I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. After leaving town there is a choice of two routes, one considered long and soulless and following a highway, the other through a very remote and waterless region. I opted for the second and filled up with water at the last village font before braving the wilderness. The village was completely deserted, like a ghost town in a Western and the path leaving there passed amongst cattle sheds and barns. It had a rather seedy aspect and didn´t feel like the best place to be walking off into the bush. For the first and only time on my Camino I wished briefly for the sight of another pilgrim, but it wasn´t to be.

The dirt track was almost wide enough to be a road and meandered for kilometre after kilometre through groves of trees. It was very hot by now and all I could hear were the cicadas singing, no birds this time. It was a lonely walk and I never saw a soul the whole 8km to Calzadilla until I was just arriving, when I was overtaken by two pilgrims who raced ahead to the albergue and got the last bottom bunks! They passed me while I was taking a break at a shady spot where there was the first and only rest area, called Fuente del Peregrino.

At the albergue there was no-one to register with, it was a "donativo" one and the hospitaleira had gone somewhere. This was just as well as the village shop was shut and I didn´t have enough change for my donation, only a 50 euro note. I went on a fruitless hunt for a bottom bunk and a Finnish pilgrim, Lisa, very kindly gave me hers when I didn´t find one. I had enough coins for the washing machine but no soap powder as usually this was provided free, except that this time there wasn´t any. A German pilgrim, Annette, came to my rescue and gave me some powder. She later cooked a meal and invited myself, Lisa and another German, Gunter whom I´d seen at my previous albergue, to join her. I certainly felt well looked after that day, all my needs catered for. In the evening we all went for a drink and since it was hot in the bar we carted the table and chairs out on to the road as there wasn´t any traffic in such a quiet spot.

On the way back we passed a group of local ladies sitting in the shade having a good gossip while they sewed, embroidered and made lace. I had change for my donation now but the hospitaleira never came to register me so I filled in the book myself and Lisa stamped my credencial. The hospitaleira must have thought I was one of those pilgrims who don´t pay their way. Since I didn´t know where she lived I ended up leaving some money in the registration book, hoping she would find it next day and know who had left it, and also hoping that no-one pinched it. This village was the only place I ever saw a local being a bit of a nuisance. He must have been about 30 years of age, and every time a female pilgrim came out of the albergue to sit at the base of the cross or on one of the benches he would come and hover whilst playing with his cell phone. As soon as they went inside he went away only to pop up again like a jack-in-the-box the next time a female pilgrim appeared. I must confess I hoped he wouldn´t be hanging around first thing in the morning when I left. He never spoke to any of us but did tend to sit rather close and stare which was rather uncomfortable.

Day 18 - Photos

2009-08-04T12:16:00.000-07:00

The Via Trajana - long, hot and straight

A nice shady stop at the refreshment caravan

The shepherd and his dogs waiting for the flock to gather

Eye-level view of sheep from the pavement

Day 18 - Carrión to Terradillos de Templarios - 27km

2009-08-04T08:48:00.000-07:00

I made sure I had something to eat and drink and food and water to take with me and left before 7 ready to face the first stretch of 17.5km with no villages and unreliable water fonts (my map book said they were dry). It was nice and cool initially and I walked briskly to try and cover as much ground as possible before it became too hot. Nola had decided to stay behind and rest as her leg was too painful and Marcel, who had been taken to the doctor by a nun, had been ordered to rest up for a couple days after having his feet seen to.

The path was reasonable if a little pebbly and fairly level. There was no shade as usual, the occasional trees being separated from the path by ditches on either side. It was also quite straight as it formed part of the old paved Roman road, the Via Trajana. The heat slowly increased to the point where it felt as if it were physically hammering down on you. I don´t know what the temperature was but on days like these pilgrims who were unused to such heat suffered from heat exhaustion and sunburn. The secret, apart from a hat and sunblock cream, is to walk slowly and steadily, keep to shady bits if there are any, take frequent short breaks and drink plenty of water. I used to feel the heat, naturally, but never suffered any ill-effects from it because living in a tropical country I am accustomed to high temperatures.

I was surprised to come across a caravan serving refreshments further on, it hadn´t been indicated on my map but was certainly a very welcome sight. There were tables with shady umbrellas where I sat and had a snack, but unfortunately no loos. John the Australian also stopped there but no other familiar faces. After that break there was nowhere else to stop and it was a long long walk to Calzadilla de la Cueza, a tiny hamlet with a basic albergue and not much else. The only spot with any shade was a pavement covered in straw and droppings but I was so bushed by then and dying to get out of the sun that I just plonked myself down anyway. Shortly after a shephard passed by with his flock and I was surrounded by dogs and sheep while I sat there. My back had become quite uncomfortable over the last few kilometres to the extent that I´d had to take my rucksack off and just stand (in the sun) until the discomfort wore off and I could carry on, so the rest on the pavement was even more welcome.

I carried on to Ledigos, mostly following an undulating road now, where there was another albergue where I stopped for a refreshing tonic water. I had a few words with Ursula who was staying there, she was finishing her Camino in the next town and we wouldn´t see each other again. I had decided to carry on to the next village and albergue as I felt there were still a few kilometres left in my legs and I was attracted by the name - Terradillos de Templarios. There are many Templar and Crusader places along the Camino and I thought this sounded interesting. Actually it turned out to be no different from the other villages as far as I could see, but the albergue was comfortable. It had three-bedded rooms and I shared one with Luis and another woman. The albergue also offered pilgrim meals and I enjoyed a good meal in the restaurant there. Once again it was strange to sleep in a bed, especially one with bedding.

Day 17 - Photos

2009-08-03T08:51:00.000-07:00

Setting off for a long hot roadside walk

Statue of Saint James

The parochial albergue in Carrión

Day 17 - Fromista to Carrión de los Condes - 20km

2009-08-03T07:34:00.000-07:00

There are two parallel routes most of the way to Carrión from Fromista, one along the road and one following the river. I meant to take the second option as it would have been pleasanter but somehow I missed the yellow arrows and ended up on the road. The track by the road is what is known as a "senda" or "pilgrim autopista". They are usually pebbly underfoot, with no shade and rather boring, and of course you have traffic passing you all the time. What could have been a nice easy day´s walk was just a long very hot trudge. I stopped in a rest area to eat a bag of cherries for breakfast and later took another couple of breaks in what little shade there was just to try and cool off a bit.

The last time I stopped I was standing under a tree as there was nowhere to sit. I was drinking some water when I suddenly noticed dozens of little caterpillars were abseiling down from the tree onto me and my rucksack which was lying up against the trunk. My presence must have triggered something off as there were loads of them all hanging from fine silken threads. It took ages to makes sure I didn´t have any stowaways before I set off again.

The albergue in Carrión was a parochial one and I was received by a nun who gave me some refreshing tea when I arrived just after midday. I went out for a bite to eat and was lucky enough to find a good little photographers shop just over the road from the albergue. I had been worrying about where to buy a memory stick for my camera as I was running out of space and having to ration the number of photos I took. I thought I´d have to wait until I reached a larger town or city as I never expected to find a shop with such a knowledgeable owner in such a small place.

While I was out I came across my tall friend Ursula who was looking for the albergue so I showed her the way there. I still hadn´t eaten so I went out again then came back and shared a washing machine with Ursula. You don´t usually have enough washing to fill a machine on your own and this is a good way to keep down costs. All this faffing about meant a lot of other people had arrived in the meantime and when I went for my shower all the hot water had gone. Even though it was a hot day I didn´t enjoy my cold wash and was in and out very quickly!

Among the pilgrims who had arrived was Nola from New Zealand, a woman about my age, who was limping badly due to a painful leg and whom I´d met in Hontanas. We later went shopping and had dinner together in the kitchen, also joined by an Australian called John who was on his third Camino. Marcel, the German chap with bad feet turned up too so we were quite an international little group. Later in the evening three nuns held a pilgrim blessing which was very lovely and moving. All the pilgrims gathered and sat on the floor or stairs while one of the nuns addressed us in Spanish about the history and meaning of the pilgrimage while a Peruvian nun translated into English. Then the third nun played a guitar and sang and we all joined in. The singer had a sweet face and voice and was one of those people whose goodness shines out of them. We were then each given a paper star and blessed individually. I think it made the evening very special to all those present and gave some meaning to what we were doing.

Day 16 - Photos

2009-08-01T17:20:00.001-07:00

Early morning mist setting off from Fromista

View of the valley and Castrojeriz hill after a long climb up to the meseta

Donativo coffee break at Fuente del Piojos

Pilgrim trying to drink from the water wheel fountain

A shepherd and his flock in Boadilla

"Snow" by the side of the path

The canal lock into Fromista - very narrow crossing, very low rail

San Martin church with the carved figures behind its fence

Day 16 - Castrojeriz to Fromista - 26km

2009-08-01T13:50:00.000-07:00

I was on my way before 7 and out of the town very quickly. It was not as cold as yesterday and the surrounding countryside looked lovely through the low-lying mist. The track soon led up on to the meseta again with a very long and very steep climb. I was really pleased with how my body coped with this strenuous start to the day, a few weeks ago it would have finished me off.

At the top there was a rest area where I stopped for some water and a snack and to admire the view back over the valley floor. The path from then on was rather rough and stony and it was about 8km to the first coffee. This was served for a donation by a man in a picnic area at a fountain called Fuente del Piojo (Fountain of the Lice). The name intrigued me, did lousy pilgrims bathe here?

I stopped for another coffee in the next village and to stock up with water as the following 10km were through an isolated area with no fountains or houses. It was a long hot walk to Boadilla where I rested in the shade and watched people using the water fountain. This was apparently the only water supply in the village and in order to get the water up from underground a wheel had to be spun very quickly. The pilgrims who came to get water were giving the wheel a few feeble turns and wondering why nothing came out until someone showed them how to do it properly.

After Boadilla it was another long hot walk mostly along a canal and then across a deep lock and into Fromista. Falling from some trees near the lock were what looked like wisps of cotton wool. It was like walking through a snow-storm and the illusion was perpetuated by the drifts of "snow" on the ground. In town it was very confusing as there were yellow arrows pointing off in several directions. Some private albergues were trying to sidetrack pilgrims to their doors so it was rather confusing trying to find municipal albergue and I had to ask the way.

After registering and leaving my things I went for a drink and saw Luis, the Brazilian who had been laid up with a badly twisted ankle. He had recovered well and was covering long distances as he was behind schedule. I decided to go out for a pilgrim menu that night and was given an enormous meal. I was the only customer in the restaurant so I felt a bit uncomfortable and didn´t dawdle. Back at the albergue I chatted to a Dutch lady in the next bunk. She and her husband were cycling the Camino and they had started in Holland. They had been on the road for about two months. I had to admire her as she must have been about 65 years of age if not older.

Most cyclists were rather a nuisance when you are walking along. You don´t hear them coming until they are right behind you when you suddenly hear a "Buen Camino" or the tinkling of a bell. You have to move to the side of the path rather sharpish as they swoop impatiently past and then make sure how many there are as they tend to travel in flocks and the ones behind assume you know they are there.

In Fromista there is the church of San Martin, built in 1066. It is supposed to be one of the most perfect Romanesque churches in Spain and has hundreds of carved figures around the outside at roof level. I tried to photograph it but unfortunately there was a wire barricade all around and I couldn´t get close enough which was very frustrating. Instead I went and sat in the shade (it was still very hot) in a lovely arbour in a square until it was time for bed.

Day 15 - Photos

2009-08-01T09:48:00.000-07:00

The meseta again, with nowhere to sit for a break

And more meseta, even flatter than yesterday and colder despite the blue sky, with crops as far as the eye can see

Some roads are very nice to walk along

The ruins of the convent of San Anton

View along the Roman road to Castrojeriz on its hill

My "bed" for the night - and very good it was, too

Day 15 - Hornillos to Castrojeriz - 22km

2009-07-31T13:38:00.000-07:00

I woke early and was up and on my way before 7 in the morning. It was very cold and I had all my layers on again. These consisted of a short-sleeved top, a long-sleeved one and a light fleece. Apart from that all I had in reserve was my poncho. I think I was lucky to get away with not having brought a jacket with me because of the weight, although I felt chilly sometimes I was never really uncomfortably cold.

Up on the meseta the mist cleared, the sun shone and there was a strong cold wind as an incentive to keep going. I was really looking forward to a nice hot coffee in Hontanas, the first village which I thought was about 5km away. Unfortunately I hadn´t looked at my map properly. When the path just went on and on I checked again and found Hontanas was more than 10km away, a real letdown. I hadn´t had breakfast yet so decided to stop for some water and a snack, but the wind was too cold and there was nowhere comfortable to sit, so I ate on the move. I could have really done with a break, too, as my back was getting quite painful. If I´d realised how far it was to the first stop I´d have waited in Hornillos for the bar to open and at least had a hot drink and something to eat to fortify me for the long cold walk. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.

I finally reached Hontanas, a lovely medieval pilgrim village, where I enjoyed a coffee and a rest. I mentioned my back pain to a young Canadian I was chatting to and he had a look at The Beast and suggested I wore the hip belt higher, which did seem to make a difference, it didn´t cure the problem but the pain was less most of the time.

After the village the path dropped down from the high meseta and was out of the wind so it was pleasanter walking and I even took a layer off. The route passes by the ruins of the convent of San Anton, a very atmospheric place that has a basic albergue. After that it joins a long straight tree-lined Roman road where I could see my destination in the far distance. Walking along a tarmac road never bothered me as it does some people who find it hard on the feet, and I made good time.

Castrojeriz is a Roman town built in layers round a hill and it stands out from the surrounding landscape. This was the first and only time I didn´t get a bed in an albergue, all the bunks were taken and I was given a mattress on the floor. This was surprisingly comfortable and much nicer than having someone in the bunk overhead tossing and turning all night and clambering up and down to go to the toilet. The albergue didn´t have a set charge, you were expected to make a donation. I always gave 5 euros in this situation but I believe some pilgrims gave less or even nothing at all, which I think is shameful. These places are run by volunteers and the donations go towards the upkeep.

I went to a bar for a sandwich and beer, hoping to meet the Brazilian owner as there was a Brazilian flag hanging outside, but the owner was Spanish, he just liked Brazil! After going back and doing the usual chores I tried to have a rest on my mattress as I was tired after my early morning start. There were too many flies though , that kept landing on me and tickling me just as I was nodding off, so I gave it up as a bad job. The quiet French couple were there, strange how I only ever saw them in dormitories or kitchens, never walking.

The sun was extremely hot now and I went and sat on a bench in the shade waiting for the local village shop to open at five. There was a German chap sitting there, Marcel, and we got chatting. He must have been in his mid-thirties and was doing the Camino in order to decide about a serious career change in his life. Many people I met were at some sort of turning point in their lives and walking in order to seek insight or to reach an important decision. Poor Marcel was having a great deal of trouble with his feet, due I think to wearing unsuitable boots.

There was a ruined 13th century castle on the hill which I would have liked to visit, but the steep streets and flights of steps were enough to put me off after all the walking I´d already done that day. This was often the case, unfortunately, and I saw very little of the places I stayed in or walked through. I have the feeling others saw much more than I did, I can only say they must have had much more energy than I did, too.

Day 14 - Photos

2009-07-29T18:25:00.001-07:00

The beginning of the meseta

More meseta

Hornillos del Camino

Church in main square of Hornillos

Day 14 - Burgos to Hornillos del Camino - 19km

2009-07-29T14:25:00.000-07:00

In the morning I stopped for some breakfast before leaving Burgos, and bumped into Lisa in the bar. She was a German pilgrim I had met on my fourth day and who had suggested we walk together. We´d managed to lose each other in a village within the first half hour and I had not seen her since so it was nice to bump into her again, especially since I seemed to have lost touch with all the other people I had met. We never did walk together (she was too fast for me) but from then on our paths crossed most days until Santiago.

It was very cold leaving Burgos, 5C, and I was wearing all my layers which were proving to be just about adequate enough to cope with it. I was really pleased to note that I was feeling no ill effects from the long haul the previous day, no aches or pains or stiffness. The way out of the city was somewhat complicated but I managed not to get lost by using a judicious mixture of following the signs and any pilgrims I could catch sight of.

After a coffee and sandwich in Tarjados, where I bumped into Lisa again, I was finally on my way to the meseta. This is a relatively wild isolated area, where you walk long distances on stony earth tracks between crop fields. It is pretty flat after you have climbed up to the plateau, with no water or shade and there are long distances between villages. It can be extremely hot in summer but also bitterly cold at other times especially when there is a strong wind blowing. The path stretches before you all the way to the horizon and it is easy to get lost in your thoughts.

I enjoyed walking there and didn´t find the way up too steep. With the sun out it became much warmer and as usual there was a constant chorus from birds all along the way. They don´t seem to do a dawn chorus , in Spain it is an all-day event lasting well into the evening. Since my back started playing up badly (ironic on a shorter day) I decided to stop in Hornillos instead of carrying on to Hontana, the next village which is supposed to be very special.

Hornillos itself was very nice, an unspoiled medieval pilgrim village. Although the albergue was full I managed to get a bottom bunk in the annexe, a smallish dorm with only about 20 bunks. I bought some food and ate in the kitchen, where I saw the quiet French couple I was always meeting, and shared my wine with a Dutch pilgrim.

In Burgos

2009-07-28T13:42:00.000-07:00

Having written of my trials and tribulations getting to Burgos I was amused to note that it was the 13th day of walking. Just a coincidence of course...

After staking a claim to my bunk and dumping The Beast I went out for a quick look around. I didn´t wander further than the famous cathedral, it was very cold in the shade and I wanted to just sit and relax after my strenuous day, preferably in the sun. I found a bar where I could sit outside, and enjoyed a large beer there before having an early pilgrim dinner and heading back to complete the usual chores. I missed out completely on any sightseeing, which was a shame as I´m sure there was lots to see, but it was too late and I was too tired.

The albergue is new, purpose-built and very large. I was on the sixth floor, which gives an idea of the size. It even had lifts. Most people speak very highly of it but I was not impressed with the facilities. Maybe the lower floors were better equipped, but my dorm, which must have had over forty bunks, had no showers and only two toilets, one for disabled men and one for disabled women. They were very large and could easily have been divided into at least 4 cubicles each. The bunks were also paired and so close together that your mattress was touching your neighbour´s. This meant you were sleeping in closer proximity to a complete stranger than most married couples. I was unfortunate enough to have a middle-aged gentleman snorer next to me. As well as snoring he did something I have only previously seen in cartoons. When he exhaled his lips flapped rapidly and noisily. Oh my, what a night!

I later heard there had been a tragedy on the morning of the day I arrived in Burgos, a pilgrim had actually died in the albergue. I heard slight variations of the same story from several different people over the next couple of weeks. The pilgrim was an Italian in his early sixties , walking with a group of friends. They were staying at the albergue and made themselves a meal in the kitchen where they had a good time laughing and joking. Later they all went to bed but this particular man didn´t get up in the morning and was found to have died in his sleep. I can imagine the despair of his friends. But, maybe it wasn´t such a bad way to go, being on a pilgrimage and dying quietly in your sleep after having had an enjoyable evening with your companions, and having a pilgrim mass said for your soul in one of the most beautiful cathedrals in Europe.

Day 13 - Photos

2009-07-27T18:28:00.000-07:00

Monumento a los Caidos

Abandoned boots by the Camino

Church of San Nicolás and monastery in San Juan de Ortega

Only 518km to go...

Part of Burgos Cathedral - you can´t get back far enough to get it all in

With my pilgrim friend in Burgos

Day 13 - Villafranca to Burgos - 32km (+8)

2009-07-27T16:38:00.000-07:00

It was raining and cold when I left the albergue just before 8 in the morning, but I wasn´t cold for long. The way led initially up a very steep muddy track out of Villafranca. When this improved underfoot it still remained a long steep climb up the first hill and I was overheating under my poncho. Thankfully the rain stopped after a while and I was able to take it off. The path led through a nature reserve, a lovely walk through oak and pine forest, although the mud was still a nuisance in places. Unlike when I was coming down from Roncesvalles I now had my trusty staff to keep me upright.

Along the way I passed a monument to a group of local people who were executed in the civil war called Monumento a los Caidos (Monument to the fallen) where people were still evidently leaving flowers after all these years. I found once again that the hills, apart from the first one, weren´t as bad as my guidebook had led me to expect and once the weather had improved it was very pleasant walking along surrounded by trees, masses and masses of wildflowers and with constant birdsong to keep me company. I think I saw only one or two other people for the whole 12km to the next village. Incidentally, I also passed a pair of boots abandoned on the path, with some flowers in them. They must have either caused their owner too much suffering or been too heavy to carry any further!

I stopped for a coffee in that village, San Juan de Ortega (St John of the Nettle) - I wonder where that name came from - a small remote place but on the tourist map as two coachloads arrived while I was there (and once again I was an object of curiosity). The path went downhill after that and then levelled off, eventually joined a road and passed through two more small villages. Although there was an albergue nearby I decided to keep going after a break for something to eat since I´d only done 19km so far, still felt pretty good and my back wasn´t troubling me too much. According to my map there was another albergue about 6km further on which I felt I could get to by mid-afternoon.

I went in to a bar in Atapuerca to have a slice of potato tortilla, which I really struggled to eat. I was finding it increasingly difficult to eat during the day when I was walking as I just didn´t feel hungry. I had to keep reminding myself that I was "running on empty" and force a few mouth fulls of something down. Eventually I found that some fruit and biscuits were usually enough to keep me going and at night my appetite always returned. I was getting used to braving the small village bars, very smoky and with only male customers who tended to stare. It was either do that or go without a coffee or soft drink and an essential visit.

My way now led over the fourth hill of the day which was larger than I had expected. The signs weren´t very clear and since there was no-one in sight for several kilometers it wasn´t until I got down the other side that I was sure I was still going the right way. While I was coming down I startled a bird in the field beside the path. It must have been a skylark because as I paused it rose higher and higher singing its little heart out. Standing there in the sun in the midst of green fields, listening to that song slowly fade away was one of those moments that stay with you and keep coming back from time to time.

In Cardeñuela I could not find the albergue and being mid-afternoon there was not a soul in sight to ask. I wandered around for a while and finally spotted a woman who told me there was no albergue there but that I would find one in the next village 4km down the road. This despite my map and my guidebook telling me otherwise.

In the next village I was again told there was no albergue, only a "casa rural", a guest house which would have cost me four times as much. My options were to stay in the guest house, walk to the next village and stay in a hotel there, or instead of the hotel I could get a bus the last 8 km into Burgos. I already knew the last stretch into Burgos was through an industrial site along a main road, so the bus option won hands down. I was so cheesed-off by now that I set off at a cracking pace, too irritated to feel tired or any pain. By the time I reached the bus stop it was after five in the afternoon, I had been on the go for nine hours and walked thirty-two kilometers and I´d had enough. Luckily there was someone to tell me where the stop was as it wasn´t marked and although the bus was hourly I only waited a few minutes for it.

My luck still held in Burgos as I hadn´t a clue where I was in relation to the albergue I wanted when I arrived. While I was trying to locate myself a couple came up (fellow pilgrims out for a stroll) and asked me if I was looking for the albergue. When I said yes they took me on the fifteen minute walk to it as they didn´t think (and rightly so) that I´d find it on my own. Not only was there a bunk available that late in the day, but I got a bottom one again. So although my day had gone rather pear-shaped towards the end, it had all worked out all right.

Day 12 - Photos

2009-07-26T13:36:00.000-07:00

A typical wayside water fountain. This one is in Villafranca

The "empty" albergue in Villafranca Montes de Oca

Day 12 - Belorado to Villafranca Montes de Oca - 12km

2009-07-26T11:08:00.000-07:00

Mick and the others left very early to get their bus and once again it was a sad to see them go, they had been such good company. The albergue served breakfast so I decided to have some before setting off as I wasn´t in a hurry. I had planned a very short day since it was only 12km to Villafranca where I intended to stop. After Villafranca there was a long stretch which looked very strenuous as it crossed three high hills one after the other in a remote area with nowhere to stay. I preferred to tackle this sort of terrain first thing in the morning rather than halfway through the day when I might be tired and really have to struggle to reach shelter.

After leaving Belorado it started to rain again, quite heavily, and my trainers, still wet from the previous day, became even wetter. I´d started off with dry socks but they became damp pretty quickly in the wet trainers even before the rain started and soon there was an audible squelch at each step I took. These couple of days were the only time I really had wet feet on the whole Camino. What rain I had at other times did no more than make my feet damp even though my trainers are not waterproof.

After a coffee break I kept going until I reached the albergue, which thankfully was open although it was only about mid-day. There was no-one there to book in with, in fact the whole place looked deserted until I went up some stairs and found my friend Annegrits using a computer to check her e-mails. According to her you just turned up, chose a bunk and signed in later with the hospitaleira when she arrived. A much better system than being made to queue up outside, sometimes in the cold and wet. I picked my bunk, left my rucksack and then went shopping for some food and soap while the shops were still open. Most days I arrived too late for this as they closed at two.

I managed to hang my washing out under cover as it was still raining on and off, and I also ate there although it was rather cold. After I sat and had some wine with Annegrits while we tried to chat. She was from East Germany and her English was self-taught, but we managed to communicate after a fashion. Our paths had kept crossing ever since I first saw her in Trinidad de Arre at the beginning of my Camino. Apart from the dinner that night we hadn´t spent much time together as her English was limited and she naturally gravitated towards the many German pilgrims she could speak to.

It is strange how people link up on this pilgrimage. I met Annegrits the day after I first lost touch with Mick, yet he later sent me a photo of his first communal pilgrim dinner before setting off from St Jean to cross the Pyrenees to Roncesvalles, and she is sitting at the same table. This kind of coincidence happened time and again with different people, as if we were all interconnected in some way.

Day 11 - Photos

2009-07-26T10:55:00.001-07:00

Surprised in my bunk

View of Belorado from the hill

Storks nesting on the church belltower

The ruined castle on the hill overlooking Belorado

Day 11 - Santo Domingo to Belorado - 24km

2009-07-26T09:58:00.000-07:00

This was a longish day, but not too strenuous. The hills were fairly gentle and there were several villages on the way where I stopped for short breaks. Leaving the first, Grañon, I was caught on a high exposed path in a thunderstorm. There was constant lightning overhead and I was the tallest object for miles around, so I was actually quite scared. They say you are supposed to lie down until the danger passes in a situation like this, but as it was raining very heavily and also hailing I didn´t fancy lying in the mud, especially as there was no sign of the storm passing any time soon. I kept going and hoping for the best and trying to console myself with the thought that if I did get struck by lightning it wasn´t such a bad way to go, especially in the middle of a pilgrimage. I also consoled myself with the thought that my walking stick was wooden, not one of the high-tec metal ones which could have acting like a lightning conductor!

I eventually squelched into the next village just as the storm was passing. My poncho had kept me beautifully dry except for the bottom of my trousers and my feet. My trainers and socks were absolutely drenched, but since the socks were not rubbing I decided not to change them, although this is recommended practice. By the end of the day when I did take them off my feet were very wrinkled but there was no harm done. One advantage, by the way, of having trousers with zip-off legs is that when they get wet and muddy you can unzip and just wash the lower part instead of the whole garment.

In the village of Villamayor del Rio there is an albergue run by a Brazilian couple. I called in there hoping to say hello, but although it was open and you could help yourself to coffee etc for a donation, there was no-one around. There were assorted baskets of gifts and goodies you could buy and an honesty box to pay for them. It looked very nice and welcoming and I was tempted to stay, but it was a bit too early to stop for the day.

Most of the way from then on to Belorado was beside a busy road. Easy walking but not very interesting. At one point I passed a large group of Canadian tourists going for a stroll, presumably a coach party. It was strange to be considered part of the local colour "Oh look, there´s a pilgrim"! Further on a car came driving slowly down the path and the driver gave me a business card for an albergue in Belorado. I decided to stay there as it said they also had single rooms. Of course, by the time I got there there weren´t any left but the dorm wasn´t too large and it had started to rain again so I decided to stay anyway. The private albergues are usually more expensive than the municipal ones but also usually that little bit better.

It was still raining after I had showered, so I decided to relax in my bunk (a top one this time, but at least there was a ladder). Imagine my surprise and pleasure shortly after to see Mick, Yvonne and Robin come strolling in. We caught up with each other´s news and when it stopped raining went for a look around. There was a ruined castle up on a hill that we went to see, and from there there was a good view of the church belltower with its stork nests. Later we went for our third farewell dinner, definitely the last one as they were catching the bus to Burgos in the morning and from there going to Barcelona.

Day 10 - Photos

2009-07-21T18:09:00.001-07:00

Vineyards as far as the eye can see

Santo Domingo in the distance

Cock and hen in their cage

Santo Domingo´s shrine in the cathedral

Day 10 - Azofra to Santo Domingo de Calzada - 16km

2009-07-21T16:53:00.000-07:00

It was spotting with rain in the morning when I left after a final goodbye to Mick, Yvonne and Robin. I didn´t leave until about 8 as I was hoping the rain would stop and also had planned only a shortish day. The track was nice and wide, but rather hilly, and passed through vineyards and farmland most of the way. Unfortunately the rain became heavier and I had to stop and put on my poncho.

I paused for a break and a snack after a long long climb up to the only village on the whole way, then set off again grateful it had stopped raining. As I left Cirueña I could hear hymn singing, and thought it was coming from one of the houses there, but then realised there was quite a large procession ahead of me going along the Camino to Santo Domingo. I virtually followed them the 5km into town although I never managed to catch them up. The farmers had switched sprinklers on amongst the vines, despite the earlier rain, and in some places the shields on the sprinklers which were supposed to protect passersby were ineffective. This meant that you had to pause, study the track ahead and try and time your dash through the moving showers in order not to get soaked. Not easy to dash with a rucksack on your back! I don´t know how the procession managed in their best clothes...

I felt tired by the time I arrived and my back was troubling me as usual. I booked in (bottom bunk again, lucky me), dumped my stuff then went to visit the cathedral. This is the cathedral famous for having a live hen and a cock in a cage inside to celebrate an old legend. The story goes that a young German pilgrim travelling to Santiago with his parents, spurned the attentions of the innkeeper´s daughter. She repaid him by hiding a valuable item in his luggage then accusing him of theft. He was caught, condemned and strung up on the gallows. His parents continued their pilgrimage unaware of what had happened to their son, thinking he had changed his mind about going with them. On their return many weeks later they were horrified to find their son hanging on the gallows, still apparently alive. They rushed to the priest and begged him to save their son. The priest was just sitting down to dinner with a roasted cock and hen on the platter before him. He insisted their son was no more alive than the fowl he was about to eat, at which point the birds came to life before his eyes. So the son was saved, proved innocent and it all ended happily. I can vouch that the cock is real as it crowed several times while I was in the cathedral.

After lunch I decided to have a snooze but was constantly disturbed by cocks crowing in the albergue garden. They keep spare birds for the cathedral there in a large hen house. I went into the garden to see them and bumped into the chap who´d been at dinner with us the previous night. After a brief chat I went out for a wander round then into a café for a drink. He was in there and insisted on buying my drink. I then went shopping and back to the albergue to make something to eat, where he turned up in the kitchen too. After eating I escaped into the garden but was joined there as well. At that point I decided I felt like a really early night and went off to bed. The poor bloke was probably just lonely but I was beginning to feel haunted by then.

Chatting in the courtyard at Azofra

2009-07-18T15:41:00.000-07:00

Day 9 - Photos

2009-07-18T15:20:00.001-07:00

A long hot track

Armchairs by the wayside - for tired pilgrims?

Pool in albergue courtyard

Day 9 - Navarette to Azofra - 22km

2009-07-18T14:23:00.000-07:00

The way out of Navarette was quite easy to follow and the track was fairly level initially. My back unfortunately started troubling me early on and bothered me more than usual all day. I stopped in a village for a coffee and later on had a lunch break in Nájera. The first bar I went into looked so grubby I just had a coffee, but then I found another one, a slightly more upmarket café/bar than usual where I was delighted to find they had real sandwiches made of sliced bread with a very tasty moist filling of chicken and mayonnaise with tomato. Yum, I can still taste it!

The way out of Nájera was quite a steep climb up past some sandstone cliffs on a shadeless track in the now roasting sun. It was a long hot walk to Azofra and my legs were tired and my feet hurting by the time I got there at about 2 in the afternoon. The albergue had beds in double rooms, small but adequate, and I was pleased to find I´d been allocated a room with my tall German friend Ursula. Kari and Sandi also turned up and later I found Mick, Yvonne and Robin were there too.

It was nice to see them as we had not expected to meet again after our dinner the previous evening. Mick and Robin had walked from Burgos to Santiago another year, so this time they were planning to only go as far as Burgos, a few days away and their daily schedule was different to mine. After the usual chores a group of us went out for a drink and then I sat around chatting to various people in the albergue courtyard, where there was a tiny pool. One of them was a Brazilian, Luis, who had sprained his ankle very badly a couple days previously and been unable to continue. Normally you are allowed to stay for only one night in most albergues and have to leave at eight in the morning, but if a pilgrim is ill or injured they usually make an exception to this rule.

Later I went for a another farewell dinner with Mick, Yvonne and Robin. We were joined by a chap I had some trouble shaking off the following day, but more of that anon... Strangely I found it difficult to get to sleep that night, with just myself and one other person in the room. Ursula wasn´t snoring or restless, maybe I had become so accustomed to the noise of a full dorm with 30 or more occupants that the quiet bothered me.

Day 8 - Photos

2009-07-16T17:14:00.000-07:00

Ready to go after having my free breakfast - I did give a donation!

April taking a picture of Estella at the pilgrim statue

First-aiders in Logroño

Restored remains of a pilgrim hospital near Navarette

Hospitaleiro making pancakes

With Yvonne and Robin. In the background are three Norwegians, a wife, husband and his brother. The brother walked with crutches after a stroke and they were usually just ahead of me every day - this taught me a lesson in humility.

Day 8 - Viana to Navarette - 22km

2009-07-16T13:58:00.000-07:00

I was woken by early risers and decided rather than lie in my sleeping bag for a while I might as well get up, pack and leave, so I was on my way before 7. On the way to Logroño I met April and Estella, and we stopped for breakfast. This was offered by a lady in what appeared to be her front room, where there was a large table and benches. You could help yourself to coffee or tea, and there was toast, jam and biscuits. All this was free although you were expected to leave a donation.

It wasn´t far to Logroño after that, where we passed into the famous wine-producing La Rioja region. In the city there was a statue of modern-day pilgrims, the only one I saw on the whole Camino, and in the square by the statue was a group of Cruz Roja (Red Cross) first aiders offering succour to any pilgrim in need, a welcome sight for some.

The way so far had been fairly level, good underfoot and even tarmac in places, and since my back was nothing like as bad as I had expected I decided to carry on. Despite my pessimism the previous night I was feeling pretty good and enjoying my walk. I suppose if you expect the worst, anything better than that is a plus! My back still hurt and I still had to take breaks, but it was bearable, which was a relief. The weather as usual was sunny with blue skies and getting hotter but it was not unpleasant. The way out of Logroño led through a linear park, past a lake where I sat on a bench and ate a bag of cherries, then up through some woods. I really enjoyed the cherries, they were in season, very cheap and delicious. In Brazil they are so expensive I never buy them. Altogether I must have eaten several kilos while I was in Spain.

I reached the albergue in Navarette an hour before it opened at 2, so I put my rucksack in the queue and waited for opening time. The hospitaleiro for some reason started selecting only people who were in two´s or three´s regardless of their place in line, so I paired up quickly with the girl behind me and we got in together and I even got the last bottom bunk again. I dumped my stuff and went for a beer with my new pal where we had a nice long chat. She told me quite a bit about herself, including her problems, and I sometimes wonder how things turned out for her as I never saw her again after the next morning. This happens quite often on the Camino, you meet people, exchange stories and can become quite close in a very short space of time, then you lose each other along the way and a lot of half finished stories are left hanging in the air.

Back at the albergue it turned out the hospitaleiro was in the kitchen making free pancakes for everyone, which was very nice. He had also left a number of scallop shells on a table for people to help themselves to. The albergue was small, clean and very well looked after, a contrast to some others I stayed in.

After the usual chores I went for a wander around and was very happy to see Mick, Yvonne and Robin, the friends I had made on my first day of walking and not seen since. We had a drink and caught up on each other´s news, then went for a pilgrim dinner with Ursula, a German woman I had seen and spoken to from time to time. She was very tall and the first time I saw her, in Estella, she had the bunk over mine and I admired the ease with which she climbed into it. The meal in the restaurant was served at a long table and there must have been about a dozen pilgrims there. The wine and conversation flowed freely and a pleasant evening was had by all.

Day 7 - Photos

2009-07-15T14:31:00.000-07:00

Piles of stones left by pilgrims

On the way to Viana

Albergue with three-tier bunks

Day 7 - Los Arcos to Viana - 19km

2009-07-15T13:19:00.000-07:00

I was up and off before any of my friends in the morning. It was very good going at first, although there were fairly steep climbs into the villages/towns that I passed through. I suppose originally they were built on high ground for defense purposes. I was pleased to note that I was managing the hills much better and was usually able to get up at a steady pace without stopping so often. I think my preparation was paying off, so all those boring exercises at home were worth doing after all. My recovery time was very quick too, just a pause for a couple of minutes standing still enabled me to keep going.

Unfortunately my back was really giving me trouble, becoming more and more painful as I went on. I had to keep taking breaks at shorter and shorter intervals and was getting cramp when I took my rucksack off. When I stopped for a picnic lunch I decided to take a couple of paracetamol in order to get me through the next stretch. I think the rest and the tablets helped a little, but instead of trying to get to Logroño at 25km I decided to stop at Viana after 19km. I was getting rather concerned about this pain as nothing seemed to make a difference and each day it was a bit worse. I began to wonder how it was going to affect my Camino. Rather than give up there was an option of using the rucksack transportation service offered in some places, but for me that would have been the very last option. To me this walk without carrying my own pack would feel like cheating. I know people do use this service, and they have their own reasons, I´m not condemning them, merely saying what felt right for me personally.

The albergue in Viana was in a converted monastic building with three-tier bunks! I reckoned I was lucky to get a middle one. The dorm was small, only nine bunks in all, and appeared to be full of elderly Frenchmen when I arrived. I claimed my bunk then went out to relax in a courtyard with shady trees and lovely views into the distance. I hadn´t seen anyone I knew all day, so it was nice to bump into a few familiar faces when I went to wander round the town later. Apparently this was the town where Cesare Borgia died.

I decided to eat in that night and after some shopping went back to the albergue. It had completely filled up while I was out, and there was a mattress on the floor in my dorm, where half the elderly men appeared to have been replaced by women, and another in the refectory. At least these people had been given somewhere to sleep, not told to walk on to the next town. I was pleased to find I wasn´t the only female, I was still getting used to the mixed dorm, mixed shower and mixed toilet aspect of the whole business. Some places had separate showers and toilets for men and women, but nearly everywhere the dorms were mixed, even in a parochial albergue.

My back and legs were painful during the night, so I decided to walk only as far as was comfortable the next day, even if it was for just a few kilometers. The possibility of worsening my problem and causing some sort of damage just wasn´t worth the risk.

Day 6 - Photos

2009-07-13T14:18:00.001-07:00

April at the wine fountain

A long hot hill to climb

Medieval pilgrim shelter with pool inside

Day 6 - Estella to Los Arcos - 22km

2009-07-13T11:51:00.000-07:00

I was up early in the morning after a night disturbed by aching legs which woke me up every time I turned over. When I got up they felt fine though and after a communal breakfast supplied by the albergue I was on my way before 7:30 despite nearly setting off without my glasses. They had slipped under my bunk and I was in the street before realising they were missing. Because I was basically wearing and carrying the same things every day I had developed a routine to make sure I didn´t leave anything behind, and I´m sure this helped me as I never lost anything. Whenever I set off I would run through a mental checklist - camera in bumbag, bag round waist, map in pocket, glasses tucked in neckline, stick in hand and rucksack on back. After patting myself in sequence I was ready to go. Observers of this ritual may have thought I had some sort of problem...

A few kilometers from Estella the path passes the Fuente del Vino (the wine fountain) installed by the local bodega for pilgrims. It is an actual fountain with free red wine flowing, albeit slowly, and traditionally pilgrims stop there for a drink. I didn´t really fancy it at about 8 in the morning, so I took a token sip but kept some in a water bottle for later consumption!

The first part of the path was through lovely oak and pine woods and it was very pleasant walking in the shade, but then there followed a long hot climb to Villamayor de Monjardim. There I made sure to stock up with water as the next stretch was a solitary 12km with very little shade and no water fountains. I kept meeting up with Kari and Sandi, and also the young group with April. Since there was so little shade along the way from the now very hot sun, we tended to share what there was, squatting on any convenient log or stone. I had a picnic lunch with Kari and Sandi where I arrived just missing the excitement of their being overrun with goats and sheep.

On the way I passed a very interesting old building which apparently had been a shelter for pilgrims in medieval times. It was built of stone, and when you entered there were steps inside which you could go down to a pool of water. I could well imagine the pilgrims in those times sitting there resting with their tired feet in the water. It was lovely and cool in there out of the sun and would also have been an excellent shelter from rain or snow.

The path was fairly level after this, and good underfoot, but seemed to stretch forever in the heat. It ran mostly between vineyards or fields full of crops, with wildflowers along the verges. I was getting pretty tired by now, and my back starting aching for the first time. It was a strange ache, quite sharp and just under my right shoulder blade. I tried adjusting my rucksack every way I could think of, but the pain only eased when I took it off, so I was having to stop more frequently. Unfortunately this problem continued in varying degrees right up to the end of my Camino, so The Beast really lived up to its name. At least I never had any trouble with blisters and although my legs got tired they didn´t hurt during the day.

I was pretty worn out by the time I reached the albergue mid-afternoon, where I was lucky enough to get a bottom bunk again. When I wrote up my notes I found I´d broken the 100km milestone, which cheered me no end, I began to believe I was going to make it after all. I decided to eat in that evening, and had a nice potato tortilla with some beer. You can buy ready-made tortillas in the supermarkets, and they are quite tasty as well as filling.

One advantage of the hot weather was that my washing dried very quickly. Every day I´d wash my top, underwear and socks and by evening they were all dry so that I had fresh clothes to put on after my shower next day. Most pilgrims do their washing every day as soon as they arrive, so you have to be fairly quick off the mark to make sure you get some space on the washing line. My safety pins worked really well as pegs, but six weren´t quite enough, eight would have been better.

I had a pretty good night, except once about 4am when a snorer woke me, but I didn´t mind because when I looked out of the window there was the most incredible night sky full of stars and I lay watching them for a while before dropping off again. When I woke at 7 I was surprised to find the dorm still full of people, all sound asleep. Breakfast was again a communal one provided by the albergue, and during the meal there was some classical church music playing which was a nice touch. I believe the albergue is run by an Austrian church.

Day 5 - Photos

2009-07-11T14:44:00.001-07:00

Heading for the next village in the distance

Typical dormitory

My shadow!

Day 5 - Puente la Reina to Estella - 21km

2009-07-11T13:26:00.000-07:00

Since the albergue I was staying in actually had a bar, I was able to have a coffee before leaving in the morning, which made a nice change. Usually I had to walk between 5 and 10 km before finding somewhere open. I didn´t want the extra weight of carrying coffee makings with me, so usually after walking for about an hour I would have a breakfast stop of chocolate biscuits and water.

The route led through gently rolling countryside, vineyards and farmyards, good underfoot but with some fairly steep ups and downs, and passed through several villages. The fields and hedgerows were full of spring flowers and I was accompanied almost continuously by birdsong. Each village seemed to be built on a hill, so that you could see it in the distance as you approached, and part of the way was on a 2000-year-old Roman road. I took fairly frequent breaks because the sun became very hot early on.

Walking from east to west every day meant that the morning sun was always behind you, so the backs of necks, arms and legs were the bits that caught it most. In the evening you could always spot a pilgrim by their brown legs and white feet where their socks had been. Your shadow was always cast ahead of you when you set off and I think everyone takes a photo of this, I know I did. It was actually useful at times when in doubt which route to take to know the sun had to be behind you. It helped me on more than one occasion.

During the walk I met up several times with Kari and Sandy, and also a group I had first met at Cizur Menor. This group showed how truly international the Camino is. They were all in their twenties, April from England, Anna from Ireland, Estella from America, Santiago (think that was a nickname!) from Columbia and later also Alex from Germany. They were a very lively and friendly bunch and I saw quite a lot of them as we sometimes stayed in the same albergues. They always prepared their own evening meal and would gather up and feed any stray pilgrims they found.

I stopped for a bocadillo for lunch on the way, an awful one that consisted of slices of smoked sausage slapped in a french stick with no butter or anything. It was very dry and the sausage still had its tough skin on. In fact I went off bocadillos fairly early on as I found most of them dry and tasteless. At a pinch cheese and tomato would do, but some places would make you a "sandwich mixto" a toasted ham and cheese sandwich which was very much nicer. Anyway, stopping to eat meant I didn´t arrive in Estella until after 3 in the afternoon, by which time it was blazing hot.

Despite my late arrival I managed to get a bottom bunk, the last one. I don´t like sleeping on a top bunk as I´m always afraid I´ll fall out and I was lucky enough to nearly always get a bottom bunk, often one of the last ones. The dorm filled up very fast and after the usual chores I went for a walk around, where I bumped into Kari and Sandi who were staying at the same place. We went shopping for supplies as the following day there was a long stretch without any villages. Later I went out to dinner with Kari and we had a nice long chat and got to know each other better.

Day 4 - Photos

2009-07-10T14:10:00.000-07:00

Heading for the hills

Pilgrim sculpture

Alto de Perdón

Welcome break in the shade after the descent

Puente la Reina

Day 4 - Cizur Menor to Puente la Reina - 20km

2009-07-10T12:32:00.000-07:00

I managed to sleep in until about 7 in the morning, a real treat, and was up and off before 8. I found setting off every morning a really uplifting experience, the whole new day and trail before me, feeling fresh and full of energy and looking forward to whatever fate had in store. It was exciting feeling part of an ancient tradition together with so many people. For the first part of the morning the Camino was usually busy with so many pilgrims setting off at about the same time. I used to call it The March of the Pilgrims, and try and hang back so that they surged ahead and past me and I at least had the impression I was walking alone. I might try and keep a few backs with rucksacks in sight if the way led out of town as sometimes the way wasn´t clearly marked and it was reassuring to have someone to follow.

Leaving Cizur Menor I could see the trail winding through fields towards the horizon and the range of hills we would cross that day. All along the skyline were the wind turbines which became a familiar sight. The going was good underfoot but the trail went up and up, turning into a hard slog. I stopped for a break and a picnic breakfast under some trees with a lovely view before me, then carried on climbing.

Near the top I stopped for another breather and chatted to a Canadian, Kari, who was doing the Camino with her niece Sandy. I´d lost touch with the friends I´d made at the beginning because of my short walk the previous day and it was nice to chat to someone. The weather had now settled into a pattern which was to continue for many days. First thing cool if not chilly, and misty. Then the sun would burn off the mist and the day would get hotter and hotter, until by about 11:30 it was scorching. This made walking in the early afternoon nearly impossible, so to get the day´s kms in people were setting off earlier and earlier. Being used to the heat I managed better than most, but even I tried to stop by lunchtime.

It was relief to reach the top of the mountain ridge, by that time the sun was shining strongly and I was very hot from the climb. The ridge is called Alto de Perdón and has stunning views back towards Pamplona. Along the ridge itself are some metal sculptures, silhouettes of pilgrims. I did not stop for too long as it was windy and I was concerned about the descent. Both my guide book and my map book warned that the descent was steep, rough and with loose boulders. I had decided I would probably have to stop at the first village after the descent that had an albergue as my legs would probably be quite wobbly by then. In fact this was not the case at all, the descent was steepish in places but soon over and the trail was good, no boulders.

More than once I was worried by the warnings in my books of various degrees of severity and they never turned out to be so fearful after all. Eventually I realised that medieval pilgrims, wishing to get from A to B, were unlikely to trek up and down the mountains by the hardest route. Being sensible folk they would have chosen the easiest path to reach their goal. I was confusing things somewhat with my trekking trips when you deliberately set out on a challenging walk. After the penny dropped I no longer viewed distant mountains with dismay, I knew I would cross them by the easiest route.

Since my legs were holding out I decided to carry on to Puente la Reina. My book of maps was divided into daily stages, one page at a time, which was very helpful in planning how far to walk. I didn´t intend to stick to it strictly, but it was useful to have an idea of how much ground you could cover. The albergues were marked on the maps so if you didn´t stay in a certain town or village you knew how far it was to the next bed.

The albergue Santiago Apostol in Puente la Reina was through town, over the famous bridge and up a very steep hill. I arrived mid-afternoon and the hospitaleiro greeted me with two large glasses of water one after the other before he even let me speak! The building was new, unfinished in parts and I actually got a one-bed cubicle to myself, which was lovely. It also served a pilgrim meal, ideal as I didn´t want to traipse downhill and back again. The food was excellent and plentiful, and the wine which accompanies every pilgrim meal came in pint pots, full ones!

The town is named after the medieval pilgrim bridge over the Rio Arga, (Queen´s Bridge), built by royal command in the 11th century. It is a lovely bridge and much photographed. I only saw it properly the next morning as I went past it on the next leg of my journey. I found quite often that I didn´t have the energy or the inclination to do much sightseeing. If it wasn´t under my nose I didn´t bother. This is most unlike me as usually I am an avid visitor, especially to all things ancient.

Day 3 - Photos

2009-07-08T07:27:00.000-07:00

Statue of bull runners in Pamplona

Shady spot for waiting outside albergue

Turtle pool

Albergue garden

Day 3 - Trinidad to Cizur Menor - 10km

2009-07-08T06:28:00.000-07:00

I started off in the morning just before eight after a pretty good night - no snorers (or I didn´t hear them) and I am now getting used to my sleeping bag. A small fly in the ointment is that for safety´s sake I always put my bumbag in the sleeping bag, pushed down to the bottom right near my feet. It has my passport, bank cards and cash in it as well as camera, so it never leaves my waist except in the shower (where it goes in with me in a ziplock bag) or at night. Since my sleeping bag is the mummy variety, narrower at the bottom, there isn´t much room for my feet and the bumbag. Eventually I got used to this but in the beginning it was a nuisance.

Everyone else had left well before me, but I wasn´t in a hurry as I had decided to have a short day. Most people were planning to stay in Pamplona and go sightseeing, but since I had already done that I intended to go straight through the city and stay in a town five kilometers further on. The following day would involve a steep climb up and down and I wanted to get as close to this as possible.

It was a misty morning and very cold, 7C when I set off. The way led through suburbs towards Pamplona and was well marked by yellow arrows except near some roadworks where I temporarily lost my way. I reached the city by 9 and fortunately found a souvenir shop where I was at last able to buy a stick and the traditional pilgrim scallop shell to hang from my rucksack. Since most shops don´t open until 10 and I didn´t know where this one was it was only by a fluke I found it.

I went into a bar for breakfast, but only stopped for a quick coffee. The bar was full of young tourists, very noisy and drunk, and still drinking at that time in the morning. The floor was so sticky I couldn´t put my rucksack down and there was nowhere to sit. A Spanish chap on a stool next to me started a long rambling conversation about the tourists but since he was also drunk I couldn´t understand most of what he said. I hadn´t found anywhere else open and I needed my caffeine fix so I stuck it out while I had a coffee then cleared off.

After buying some supplies for the next day (Sunday) and eating some breakfast on a park bench, I headed out of Pamplona, again on a well-marked trail. After another long walk through suburbs and past university grounds I eventually reached the albergue in Cizur Menor after a bit of a climb. It was closed when I arrived at 12 but there was somewhere nice to sit in the shade as it was pretty hot by now. When I did book in about an hour later I found the albergue had a lovely garden to sit in and even a pool with turtles. Being the first arrival I had first choice in the dorm and actually got a bed instead of the usual bunk.

The hospitaleira was a very nice lady who later on cared for the feet of the pilgrims who came hobbling and limping in suffering from blisters. For most people this was the third or fourth day of walking and quite a few were having a bad time with blisters and sore muscles.

After a snack I did my chores, following the same routine as most pilgrims and this became a daily established habit. First you shower, then wash clothes, prepare your rucksack for the next day, check your e-mails if there is internet available, write up your notes, go shopping and eat. Some of the early starters used to sleep for a couple of hours after arriving, but I only did this rarely as bedtime was usually around 9 and I wouldn´t have been able to get to sleep. I had a pilgrim meal that night, on my own because I had inadvertently picked a restaurent no-one else had. I had a very good night´s sleep in my bed and was not disturbed by any snorers. I think I´m usually so tired I just don´t hear them anymore. I´m not using earplugs, unlike most, because I find them uncomfortable. In fact I eventually threw mine away.

Day 2 - Photos

2009-07-05T08:55:00.000-07:00

Swiss-style houses

San Tiago in a garden - makes a change from gnomes

Bridge over Rio Ulzama

Convent garden

Day 2 - Zubiri to Trinidad - 18km

2009-07-05T07:31:00.000-07:00

Like most pilgrims I set off on my own in the morning. I found I really wanted to walk alone, follow my own rhythm, absorb all of this very new experience and enjoy my surroundings. Walking with someone would have distracted me from all this. Inevitably during the day you meet up with others, stop to say hello, have a brief chat, a break or a meal together, that is also part of the pleasure.

It was pretty cold and misty, with occasional rain showers and sometimes muddy and slippery underfoot, but nothing like the previous day. The ups and downs were not so steep and the path wound in and out of several villages by the river. I stopped for breakfast in Larrasoaña where I met several familiar faces from the previous night, including Mick and Yvonne. There was only one café in the village and I found it expensive, probably because he had no competition.

The scenery was very attractive, with hills and little villages, and you could hear cow bells tinkling and birds singing their hearts out. The houses were not at all what I had expected in Spain, looking very Swiss. With that and the cow bells I felt I could almost have been walking in Switzerland.

My poncho really was an excellent choice for this trip. It covered me and my ruck sack down to below my knees so only the bottoms of my trousers and my feet got a little damp. As the day wore on the weather improved and it became a little warmer, although out of the sun it was still pretty cold.

They say you should start your Camino gently and slowly build up the daily mileage, so since I was feeling tired I decided not to go all the way to Pamplona but stop before. I chose Trinidad de Arre, a former convent by the river and next to a lovely medieval stone bridge. It was closed when I arrived at about 1pm, and while I sat outside waiting on a bench quite a few familiar faces passed by on their way to Pamplona.

When the hospitaleiro arrived about an hour later quite a few pilgrims were waiting to book in. We were led to the dorm by a helper who took us through the very old church and down towards the crypt. I began to wonder where on earth I was going to be sleeping! Evidently this was just a tour of the church, though, and eventually he led us through a garden and to the dorm.

I was feeling pretty stiff, so after a shower I did some stretching exercises, walked in to town for a coffee then relaxed in the sun in the convent garden and wrote up my notes. Most of my fellow pilgrims were German, and I went out later to dinner with them, where they most politely spoke English at the table so as to include me in the conversation. The meal we had was the set pilgrim menu, which is very good value. You get a choice of first course, main course, sweet, bread and wine all for a set price, usually about 8 euros.

It was at this albergue that I first saw a French couple whom I later met almost on a daily basis for several weeks. They didn´t speak English and I only know a few words of French so communication was difficult, but we were all amused at the number of times we picked the same albergue to stay in. They were early risers and fast walkers so I never saw them during the day, but most evenings when I booked in there they were quietly sitting on their bunks sorting their things out.

It was also at this albergue that I first felt discomfort in my legs during the night. I found that every time I turned over in my sleeping bag I woke up because my hips and legs were very stiff and painful. As soon as I got up in the morning it wore off and I never felt anything during the day, luckily, but every night it was the same right up to when I reached Santiago. I was already beginning to see other pilgrims struggling with painful muscles and blisters, some very severe, and I was so grateful not to be affected like that. I never had any blisters to trouble me and up to near the very end no leg trouble either.

Day 1 - Photos

2009-07-04T16:18:00.001-07:00

Ready for off in the rain

Roncesvalles Monastery

Only 790km to go!

Mick and Yvonne

Convivial dinner

Day 1 - Roncesvalles to Zubiri - 22km

2009-07-04T13:54:00.000-07:00

The photo is of my right foot taking the very first step on the Camino. I thought it would be nice to record the moment!

It was a pretty bad night in the dorm at Roncesvalles, what with one thing and another. Although there was supposed to be a 10pm curfew, people kept sneaking back into the dorm until the early hours. Each one rustled around in his rucksack, then noisily unzipped and zipped his sleeping bag, and most of them were flashing torches around. Then there were the snorers... the one in the bunk underneath me was so loud and persistent he kept many of us awake. You could feel the tension in the air amongst the bunks. One chap in a top bunk kept shining his torch in what he thought was the snorer´s face, to wake him up - except it was my face he was shining it at despite the fact I sat up to show I was awake and not snoring. Eventually the snorer´s wife (they were a Brazilian couple I´d been chatting to) gave him several good prods with her walking stick and he shut up for a while. In the middle of all this there was a violent thunderstorm and strong winds. All in all a bad night followed by the noise and torches of the early risers at about 5:30am.

I had decided early on that I would always sleep in the clothes I would be walking in next day as this made things easier in a mixed dorm and in the morning I only had to pack my toiletries and sleeping bag. When I left the dorm ready to set off I found it was raining, so I had to unpack and christen my poncho. Chucking-out time was 8 o´clock, but when I left in the rain at 7:30 most people had already gone. The path was well signed and easy to follow, but very muddy and slippery. I hadn´t acquired a stick at this point and it was hard going in some places. Since the way was mostly downhill, sometimes very steep, what with the mud and rocks it was inevitable that some people fell. I managed to keep upright and while crossing a field where great clumps of muddy clay stuck to my trainers I found a piece of branch near a hedge which helped me along. Later I found that some sort of fungus on the branch had stained my palm a bright orange which wouldn´t wash off and lasted for days.

While struggling across the muddy fields I met Mick and Yvonne, an Australian couple and their English friend Robin. Mick and Yvonne and I decided enough was enough and that we´d go the rest of the way by road. Although this meant walking further at least it was safe underfoot.

At one point we stopped for something to eat, a tortilla boccadillo (French stick omelet sandwich) which was so large I only ate the omelet. It was a long, long walk with steep ups and downs, but I enjoyed chatting to Mick and Yvonne. They were good company, friendly and supportive. Eventually we reached the albergue in Zubiri, a converted schoolhouse. After signing in and claiming my bunk in the accepted manner by spreading my sleeping bag on it, I had a shower and generally pottered about.

The chap in the bunk under mine actually recognised my pilgrim forum member badge sewn on my rucksack and we chatted about that for a while. He was the only person I met on the whole Camino who had heard of the forum, a surprise as it has thousands of members and visitors. His name was Jan, English but fluent in several European languages due to family connections and upbringing.

Although it was sunny it was very cold and I got quite chilled going to see a medieval bridge to take some photos. Later I met Mick and Yvonne, Robin and Jan and a few others for a very convivial and lively dinner, a real contrast to the night before. I was so pleased to have met Mick and Yvonne. They turned up at just the right time, when I needed a bit of encouragement and support on my first day. I slept better that night in my top bunk although the champion snorer from the previous night was only one bunk away and letting it rip.

Getting there

2009-07-02T11:16:00.000-07:00

Home at last! Now I can start posting properly...

I arrived at Madrid airport May 12th after an uneventful but tiring nine-hour flight. There I had to change terminals, going to terminal four to get the bus into Madrid to the coach station at Av de Americas. At the coach station I bought my ticket for Pamplona and waited a couple of hours until it was time to go. No language problems so far, my Portuguese/Spanish mixture seems to be understood, thank goodness. The journey to Pamplona took over 5 hours, not much fun when I was already tired, but I amused myself looking at the countryside and towns we passed through.

First impressions of Spain - very environmentally friendly. Many of the hills had clusters of wind turbines on them, and we passed one large field that was entirely given over to massive solar panels. Even small villages had recycling bins. A bit of a contrast to where I live. I was also struck by the lack of people in even largish towns. This was the middle to late afternoon, and there was not a soul in sight, no children, dogs, people running errands or in their gardens, literally no-one. All the shops and businesses were closed and houses had closed shutters. It was like a sci-fi film where something mysterious has happened and all the people have disappeared. I know the Spanish have siesta time and shops close, but I really didn´t expect the places to look so totally deserted.

I arrived in Pamplona about eight in the evening, knowing I would have to spend the night there as the only daily bus I needed to catch to my starting point in Roncesvalles left at six in the evening. I hadn´t made a reservation anywhere as I had decided to see what was available when I arrived. This was most uncharacteristic of me as I am one of those people who organises and plans things down to the smallest detail. However, for my Camino I had decided to leave things to fate, whatever happened was fine by me. I wanted to be open to experiences and opportunities which wouldn´t arise in a meticulously planned trip. Strangely enough, this philosophy worked so well it became almost spooky, as I have commented before. Whatever I needed just appeared by coincidence.

I found the tourist information office in the bus station, but it was closed. Just as I was wondering who to ask for directions to the nearest albergue, a woman came out of the closed office. Somewhat grudgingly she gave me a map, having circled where I was and where I needed to go. Two German pilgrims who came up just then, wanting B+B information, were given short shrift!

I found the Jesus and Maria albergue without too much trouble, booked in, went out for a snack and then had an early night as I was very tired. This was my first albergue experience. Luckily it wasn´t too crowded or noisy, and I never heard any snorers as I fell asleep straight away. It was strange waking up in the morning, in a sleeping bag, in a room full of strangers, though. It took a few days for me to get used to this.

I spent that day sightseeing in Pamplona, a very nice and interesting city. I had a coffee in the bar Hemingway frequented, and walked the route the bulls take when they run through the streets. I was a bit hampered by having to carry The Beast around with me all day, but I managed to see most of what I wanted and to buy the few bits and pieces I needed. I went to the bus station early for my bus to Roncesvalles, which was just as well as later more and more pilgrims appeared and I think there wasn´t enough room for all of them.

The trip to Roncesvalles took just over an hour. All the way up I was staring out the window at the hills, thinking "I´ve got to come down that lot", and hoping I´d be able to manage it. At the monastery we all booked in, but instead of being in the enormous converted barn I was in a small dorm with about twenty bunks. You had to book a meal at one of the two restaurents before the pilgrim mass, then have your dinner after. The 12th century church was lovely and I enjoyed the service. It was awesome to think of the hundreds of thousands of pilgrims who had passed that way down through the centuries, and to know you were a part of it. One of the priests gave a special pilgrim blessing in each language of the nationalities present, even in Korean and Japanese, which I thought was a lovely touch.

After an uncomfortable and rather lonely dinner - I was sitting at a table with two chaps who didn´t speak English and only concentrated on their food - I went back to the dorm for a shower and an early night.

Unwinding nicely

2009-06-26T00:53:00.000-07:00

I am unwinding nicely and relaxing in the depths of the English countryside. The weather has been glorious and sunny and I go for gentle strolls with my daughter in law and grandson. It is idyllic, a perfect post-Camino re-entry into the real world.

I haven't been able to download my photos yet, as soon as I do so I shall start my Camino posts. I'm back in Brazil next Thursday, so if I haven't started before I shall certainly start posting then. I'm explaining this as I know how frustrating it is to follow someone's blog before their Camino and then they just disappear. I shan't do so, at any rate.

Santiago

2009-06-18T12:29:00.000-07:00

Well, I´ve finally made it! Arrived yesterday, very hot and tired. It has been the most incredible experience, enriched by the many people I met along the way. I walked 790km in 35 days, and still don´t believe it. There are many mixed feelings at the end, relief, tiredness, a sense of achievement and feeling a bit lost.

I had nothing stolen, no bedbugs and no blisters, no real problems (although The Beast continued to trouble me until the end), just the occasional minor irritant. The only thing I lost was a deodorant, due to my own forgetfulness. I feel I´ve been very lucky because many pilgrims had serious foot and leg problems (due to lack of preparation and training?), and even boots stolen. Right up until three days before the end I was fine, but then I developed tendonitis in my left leg, and was really struggling the last few kilometres. That will teach me not to take my lack of problems for granted, I was being too smug!

Well, I have my compostela, I´ve been to the pilgrim mass and embraced St James. Tomorrow I´m off to Finisterre for the day by bus, then overnight to Madrid and flying to London to visit my son, daughter-in-law and grandson. When the dust has settled I´ll start my day-by-day account (with photos) as hopefully I feel it might be useful to a future pilgrim.

I´ve learnt quite a few lessons on the Camino. I´ll have to digest it all before making any comments, but one thing I´ve learnt is that if I hesitate or dither about going into a bar in a tiny village when I´m thirsty, I may well go thirsty for quite a few kilometres more. If you want or need something, go for it!

One thing which has been really strange, almost spooky, is that every time I needed something it turned up. When I was running out of soap I was offered a bar by another pilgrim who had had to buy a pack of three. When my credencial was nearly full I was offered a photocopied page out of the blue. When I really felt I couldn´t go another step in the hot sun there would be a stone under a tree for me to sit on. Those are just a very examples of things that were happening almost on a daily basis. Just like getting virtually the last bottom bunk nearly every day. I only slept in a top bunk three times during the whole Camino.

So, these were just a few comments and feelings, I´ll start posting properly soon, I promise!

Taking a break

2009-06-04T06:19:00.000-07:00

I decided to take my first day off yesterday, instead of walking I played the tourist in Leon, having a good look round without The Beast. The cathedral is magnificent, the stained glass windows unbelievable. The rest did me good as I´d been walking every day for twenty days, doing at least 20km a day and sometimes a fair bit more, arriving feeling pretty bushed, especially on a hot day. Today I did 23km without any problem. I reached the albergue by one o´clock and felt fine.

I haven´t really encountered any wildlife (apart from birds) so far, unless you include sheep and cows in that category! The birds are wonderful, singing their hearts out all along the way, and so many steeples and other high places have storks nesting, a lovely sight.

Talking of sheep, you find yourself doing things on the Camino you wouldn´t dream of doing at home. After a particularly long hot day I staggered into a small village, where there was nowhere to sit and very little shade, so I just plonked myself down on the pavement scrunched into a narrow strip of shade from a building. While I was sitting there a shephard came past with his flock and I nearly got trampled by the sheep. I took a photo and just continued sitting there as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The road in front of me had been covered in droppings even before I sat down, and I never noticed.

There are 299km to go, now I am getting psyched up for the mountains I´ll reach in a few days. This will be the more strenuous part of the Camino, but I think I´m ready for it.

Still going strong!

2009-05-30T08:03:00.000-07:00

Well, left Fromista today, can`t remember where I am now! Shows what a state you are in at the end of a long hot walk. I`ve found it is too difficult to keep posting regularly, there are always people waiting to use the computer and you don`t get much time. I shall post a proper full account of my trials and tribulations (and triumphs) step by step when I get home, in the meantime it will be just random thoughts and impressions as and when I get the opportunity.

So, one thing that strikes me is the fluctuation in weather and temperature. When I left Burgos a few days ago it was 5C early in the morning. Today I was struggling along under a roasting sun with no shade.

I am using all the things I brought with me, except the 1st aid kit (wow!), so I think my packing list was fairly complete. The only suggestion I would make is that 6 nappy pins aren`t enough, I could do with a few more as I have to wash clothes every day.

One of the great parts of the Camino is getting up in the morning with no idea what the day will bring, where you will eat, sleep, who you will bump into again. We all have routines in our lives and it is strange not to know what is going to happen from one minute to the next, who you will meet and what life stories you will hear. It is truly an international community of friendly people all with same goal.

I appear to have partially tamed The Beast. A fellow pilgrim suggested I try to put the hip belt even higher than I was, practically on my waist, and that seems to have helped. I always understood it should rest lower down, just above the hips, but there you go. I think part of the problem also was posture, and I am trying to walk more upright, which also seems to help. Anything that makes a difference is good. The pain is still there, but nothing like as bad as it was. I also find if I hook my thumbs through the support loops, and (when I`m not using it) carry my stick sideways balanced on my thumbs that helps too. I can only do that when I am alone or on a wide path, though, or else I might skewer a passing pilgrim!

So, I toddle on, day by day, and should reach the halfway mark in a couple more days. In some ways it is going too fast, I think I may have to come back and do some more some day...

Burgos soon

2009-05-25T04:46:00.000-07:00

Well, I`m still going fairly strong, should be in Burgos in a couple of days, about one third of the way. Somehow it seems as if I started walking only a couple of days ago, and other times that I have been walking for months. It is quite strange, and very easy to lose track of the days. Not a good idea when everything is shut on a Sunday and you want to buy some food.

I´m still enjoying my Camino very much, even though I haven´t managed to sort out the back pain. If I stop for about 10 minutes every couple of hours it helps, so that is what I`m doing. I got caught in a heavy thunderstorm yesterday, while walking over a high exposed track in the middle of nowhere. No shelter and lightening flashing overhead every couple of minutes. Not my happiest hour. I must confess I was quite frightened, but just kept going because there was really no other option apart from lying down on the muddy track - and I didn`t feel like doing that as the rain was pouring down.

I did 24km yesterday, which really was my limit. Today I only did about 12 as the next albergue is a further 12km away, and it would mean going up and down three high steep hills. I`d rather face them in the morning when I`m fresh.

Said goodby to some nice friends, Mick, Yvonne and Robin, for the third time today. They are finishing in Burgos and set off at least a day ahead of me. Somehow they kept slowing down and I kept speeding up, so every day or so we would bump into each other again and have another farewell dinner. Last night I was really surprised to see them as I thought they were a couple of days ahead of me but they walked into the small albergue I was staying in while I was lying relaxing on my bunk. A lovely surprise and another last dinner, really the last this time as they caught a bus to Burgos today. I started my first day with them from Roncesvalles. Such is life on the Camino...

Still alive and kicking - just!

2009-05-22T08:33:00.000-07:00

I meant to try and keep up my posts, but there is usually a queue for the internet and I am using my 20 minutes for emailing family and friends. This is just a quick post to say all is going well, I have done about 160km so far, averaging about 20km a day. I am keeping loads of notes and will have to post it all properly later on. No problems with the legs or feet, although some peoples` feet are absolutely raw from blisters. My only problem is my rucksack. For some reason I can´t get it adjusted properly and after a couple of hours I start getting a sharp pain under my right shoulder blade. It wears off once I`ve finished for the day so hopefully I´m not doing any damage to myself. The Camino is amazing, everything I hoped it would be. You meet up with some really nice people and form a large loose group, bumping into each other every day or so. It is wonderful to get up in the morning not knowing what the day will bring. The weather started off cold and pouring with rain, but after a couple of days it cleared up and now it is very hot after mid-morning. I will try and put an occasional post up, just to say I am still going strong!

Last post from Brazil

2009-05-09T13:01:00.000-07:00

Today I took my five kilo bag of rice for its last walk - 8km - I wish I´d kept track of how many kms it´s done just for the fun of it. Never mind, I´m just really glad it´s over. I wonder how much difference this training will have made for my Camino? I feel a bit fitter, but not all that much to say I have completed a sixteen week course. I´m hoping that at least my stamina will have improved.

On the home front... the larder is full, the bills are paid and there are enough lists, documents and instructions to cover any eventuality except the outbreak of World War III. My father´s three carers are fully briefed, the only one who doesn´t know what is going on is young Toby. How I wish I could explain to him that I haven´t gone forever. I know I´m going to really miss him.

Now that I have got rid of the rice, I can start trial runs packing my ruck sack to see how everything fits in. I´ve decided to check it in at the airport instead of taking it as hand baggage. This is partly because I think it may be a bit large to be classed as hand baggage, but also because with the new regulations I wouldn´t be able to take scissors, nail clippers, penknife. corkscrew etc on board with me, I´d have to buy them all in Spain, and I´d also have to separate out the shampoo and other liquids. The down side of this is if The Beast goes astray with all my stuff in it I shall be up the creek without a paddle for sure. I can have it wrapped in heavy-duty polythene at the airport, so there shouldn´t be a problem with straps catching on anything and this should help to protect it too. After that I shall just have to cross my fingers and hope it appears at the other end!

So, all being well this should be my last post from Brazil until I get home again beginning of July. The next one will be from "somewhere in Spain". I am excited, nervous, happy, apprehensive and lots more, it is hard to believe the time has finally come.

Buen Camino to all of us about to set off.

The Countdown continues... now it´s four...

2009-05-06T13:41:00.000-07:00

Did my last long walk on Sunday. I went to Ibirapuera Park and managed to put in the required six hours with The Beast. I´m glad that´s over, anyway. This week I haven´t managed to get out once so far, there seem to be so many things to do that there hasn´t been time. I wonder how long the beneficial effects of all this training last? I´d hate to think they have worn off before I even get started! I´m going to try and get out for two hours on Friday and Saturday, and then that is really it.

Sunday, my last day, is Mothers Day here and we are having a family "do" at my daughter´s for all the mums in the family. A nice big noisy lunch that is going to last all day. I know it is going to be lovely, and also an ideal opportunity to say my farewells all at once.

I´ve had to cart my father off to the dentist this week, his carer is getting married tomorrow and the toilet cistern has sprung a leak. And it´s only Wednesday! Roll on Monday, that´s all I can say.

Ten days to go...

2009-05-01T15:05:00.000-07:00

Lunch last Sunday with my walking pals was very nice, much nonsense was talked and much fun made of the contents of The Beast. One or two of them may decide to do the Camino in the future, I think they are reserving judgement to see if I survive mine first.

I´m on the final countdown now, I can´t believe how fast time has flown since I decided to do the Camino and started my preparations. I shall continue doing two eight km walks followed by one hour´s exercise and stretches next week, but this weekend will be my last twenty km walk. I believe you are supposed to ease up training towards the end, and I am certainly happy to do so. I must confess I´m bored to tears trudging endlessly around the same circuit all the time, I´m sure I know every crack in the pavements around here!

Trying to leave everything properly organized at home is a major undertaking, like planning a military campaign, but I think I can see some light at the end of the tunnel. Thank goodness my daughter Tania is taking over the reins for me, otherwise such a long absence on my part would be out of the question. She is a treasure.

Four generations

2009-04-23T14:08:00.000-07:00

The photograph above was taken on the occasion of my father´s 90th and my youngest grandson´s first birthdays. The party was an ideal and rare opportunity to take a family picture of all of us together. I´m seated next to my father, there are my four children and partners and my eight grandchildren. A lovely sight, but then I´m prejudiced!

I thought it would be fun to take a small copy of the photo with me, maybe if I get chatting with local grandmas they might like to see it.

I´ve actually got as far as sewing my pilgrim forum badge on my rucksack, and a small Brazilian flag. I would have liked to sew on a British flag as well but couldn´t get hold of one, understandably. And... I´ve finally and for the first time put everything I´m taking in the ruck sack to see how it fits. I literally packed everything, including the clothes I would be wearing, just out of curiosity. Well, it does all fit in, but I´ve decided not to take the wind jacket as my poncho will do just as good a job. I´ve also removed one of the three nappies as I managed to dry myself and my hair after a shower with just two, and I´ve also removed the gloves. A pairs of socks will keep your hands just as warm, so I´ve heard. All this is in aid of reducing weight, as I think that is what is going to get me in the end. When I tried on the fully loaded ruck sack it felt very different to when I am just carrying the rice even though the weight was the same. I hope it won´t take me too long to get used to it.

This spurt of activity is due to the fact that my friends are having a farewell lunch for me this weekend and I thought it would be fun to take all my stuff along to show them. It will be interesting to hear their comments.

Three weeks and counting

2009-04-20T07:41:00.000-07:00

Three weeks today and I´ll be on my way to the airport. I can´t believe time has passed so quickly and although I am very excited about it all I keep getting butterflies as well. I don´t feel I´m ready yet, not physically. Last Friday I did 4km, Saturday 16km and yesterday 20km. Last night I was totally knackered. I know it was hot, about 30C, but even so I shouldn´t have felt that tired. Today I was a bit stiff when I got up, but after a gentle stroll to the shops I am fine. Maybe I could do 16km today if I had to (I don´t intend to!). One answer may be to alternate longer and shorter days on the Camino while I build up stamina.

In another sense I am totally unprepared for what is to come. Many pilgrims appear to thoroughly research every step of the way, from hostels to historic sites, and plan each day in detail. My life at home is necessarily highly organised, and maybe that is why I have no plans whatsoever. Apart from arriving in Roncesvalles to start my Camino that is it, nothing booked, nothing arranged. I intend to set off every morning and keep going until I fancy stopping, whether because I´ve had enough or because I find myself in a nice village or whatever. The freedom of not having to be somewhere or not cover a certain distance will be wonderful, a real escape from everyday life.

Of course, I could well come unstuck over this. My first night in Spain will be in Pamplona, on the way to Roncesvalles. I shall be arriving in the evening with nowhere booked for the night. I may meet up with other pilgrims on the coach willing to share overnight accommodation in Pamplona or share a taxi on to Roncesvalles, or I may make my own way to a pilgrim hostel or b+b. You have to be open to whatever fate has in store for you and let the Camino work its magic. I´m not daft enough to end up sleeping in a doorway, obviously, but there is no guarantee I´m going to have a pleasant or comfortable night either!

I shall try and keep posting about my adventures and misadventures during my Camino, whenever I can get Internet access. I may only be able to make short occasional entries but I intend to keep a diary and fill in the gaps when I get home again. It should be fun in the future to re-read and re-live my Camino one day.

On bees and things...

2009-04-12T05:48:00.000-07:00

I removed one kilo of rice from my rucksack so that from now on I always have my poncho with me. It weighs nearly 500g and what with snacks and water I am still carrying virtually the same seven kilos. Yesterday I set off to do my six hours and yes, the fates are still against me! I caught the train to the university and it was closed to the public... grrrr.

After some thought I set out to find the nearby Instituto Butantã. This is the (in)famous place from which the African killer bees escaped into the wild years ago, since when they have slowly bred and spread up the South American continent and reached the North American one. The institute carries out scientific research, extracts venom from snakes and spiders and produces serum. The grounds were not as extensive as I hoped and in less than an hour I´d been round, visited the snake pit and was wondering where to go next.

There really wasn´t anywhere else, so I decided to walk home instead of catching the train. Not my best decision. The walk was along a busy ring road, which I had to leave at intervals where there was no pavement under the bridges, making long detours. It was hot, noisy, frustrating and tiring. By the time I got home I´d only done five hours but I was bushed. I had thought to do a circuit of the riding club to make up the time but I was too weary, despite the fact I´d only walked about fifteen kilometres.

There are times when I really wish I were back in England, doing my training walks in the Pennines where I used to live, instead of pounding these city streets. I sure I wouldn´t get so tired.

Six hours at last!

2009-04-06T10:47:00.000-07:00

The fates seem to be against my managing a six hour training walk, but I have managed it at last. The previous weekend I cut it short because of the rain, last Saturday my father was not well and I didn´t want to venture too far. Sunday he wasn´t really any better, but no worse either so I decided to risk it. Instead of going by train to the university, with an infrequent Sunday service, I decided to walk around the perimeter of the riding club which is only fifteen minutes from home. This meant going round twelve times! I stopped three times for a few minutes but the rest of the time I just trudged on. It was very boring and towards the end I was very tired, but I did manage the full six hours, twenty three km all told (accompanied by The Beast, of course). By the time I got home I couldn´t face the stairs so cheated by taking the lift. I´ll have to make up for that.

My father is still not well so I took him to the hospital today. He is in quite a bit of pain but the doctor said it is muscular and just prescribed painkillers. I felt as if we were being brushed off, but I suppose I´ll just have to wait and see if it gets better. Part of the problem is he is ninety now and any health issue is a worry. A couple of weekends ago we had a lovely joint birthday party for him and his youngest great grandchild who was one year old. The oldest and the youngest in the family.

Evenings are now taken up with Spanish lessons. I have found a BBC online course which looks pretty good. I am fluent in Portuguese and the languages are similar, but some of the vocabulary is very different - 'bocadillo' as opposed to 'sanduiche' and 'calle' as opposed to 'rua'. The written word is quite easy to follow as I can usually make an educated guess at the meaning of the words I don´t understand, but the spoken word is much harder. It feels as if I am trying to speak Portuguese with a lisp. Brazil is the only country in South America where Portuguese is spoken, all the rest speak Spanish. Just my luck!

What, no poncho?

2009-03-29T05:24:00.000-07:00

I went to the university yesterday to try my first six hour walk. The day was overcast but dry, so I opted to take an umbrella instead of my poncho because of the weight. What with food, water, cell phone etc. I would have been over my seven kilo maximum with the poncho. Naturally this won´t apply on the Camino as I shall not be carrying a five kilo bag of rice!

I followed a variety of routes for about five hours, and was feeling the strain a bit, especially because the sun had come out and it was about 30C. I took three short breaks of about ten minutes each to drink some water and have a snack. I found that the short breaks really helped but within an hour I was ready for the next one. Hopefully I´ll be able to walk for longer without a break on the Camino or else it is going to take me forever to get anywhere.

Anyway, after my last break I knew I´d be able to carry on for another hour or so and complete my six hours, although it would be tough, but the decision was taken out of my hands. The sky suddenly went very dark and within minutes I was caught in a tropical downpour. There were no buildings to shelter in and the wind was driving the rain sideways. My little umbrella wasn´t much use, so I also stood under a tree trying to shelter behind the trunk. As the thunder rumbled overhead I tried to work out what was safest, under a tree or out in the open with a metal umbrella in my hand like a lightening rod. I opted for the tree as there were lots of others around, some much taller, and hoped for the best.

After a while the rain eased up a bit, but obviously wasn´t going to stop any time soon, so I decided to call it a day and trudged off to get my train. I arrived home soaking wet and squelched up my eight flights of stairs. Even the bag of rice was wet, but thankfully it is polythene so no harm done. I´ve decided to open it and take out one kilo of rice as from now on I shan´t leave home without my poncho!

Poles versus staff

2009-03-25T13:49:00.000-07:00

I have been following a debate in a pilgrim forum on the pros and cons between walking poles or a staff. Some people feel they don´t need either, but personally I feel happier with something to help me keep my balance going up and down hill on rough or muddy surfaces.

Walking poles are light, can be folded away when not needed, and checked in at airports. On the other hand the tapping noise they make every time the tips strike a hard surface is supposed to be extremely irritating, especially for the other walkers. There are rubber tips you can use but they don´t seem to last. Poles were also apparently originally designed for ski training, for speed, not for long-distance walks. A bit of an expensive fashion accessory, I feel.

A pilgrim´s staff sounds right for the job, but has the disadvantage of weight. I would dearly love to take the staff I used on the Inca Trail, for practical as well as sentimental reasons. Since it is made of bamboo it is hollow, therefore pretty light but also strong. The problem is that it is over five feet long. There is no way I would be allowed to take it on board as hand luggage, and if I checked it in I can´t imagine how it would reappear at the other end. I have visions of it jamming up conveyor belts and causing general chaos, as well as the risk of it breaking, so reluctantly I´ve decided not to take it.

This leaves me the option of buying a staff in Spain. You can get them quite cheaply there, I´ve heard, although I doubt they will be as light as my bamboo friend. There appears to be a thriving cottage industry of walking sticks and staffs in the villages along the way, so I´ve decided to pick one up there. At least it shouldn´t be too noisy.

Back to the grindstone

2009-03-22T10:09:00.000-07:00

Well, a full week of no training sucks, but at least the pennies will come in useful! Yesterday I tried something different for my four hour stint. Edna, a friend of mine, is a runner and she offered me a lift to the university where she (amongst hundreds of other athletes) does her training. She very kindly gave up her run to walk with me and show me round. The grounds are very large, full of shady trees and a variety of circuits up to 10km long. Best of all, there is a hill, a fairly long steady climb which is just what I need for my training. I feel I´ve slipped back a few notches as I was quite tired and my feet ached when I eventually got home.

I can get there fairly easily by train, so I think that´s where I´ll be going for the longer walks from now on, especially when they go up to six and eight hours at a time. The only thing you have to watch out for are the packs of helmeted cyclist whizzing past all the time, mere walkers beware!

I´ve been checking my equipment list (again), and virtually all that´s missing now are batteries for my camera. I usually use rechargeable ones but that would involve taking two sets of batteries, charger and plug adapter - more weight and bulk. Alkaline AA batteries, which I have used before now in an emergency, don´t last very long at all in my camera, but I have heard lithium batteries are excellent. Unfortunately they don´t appear to be available here so I will have to wait until I get to Spain, where I´m told you may buy them. I only hope the information is correct, otherwise I shall be stuck.

Historical background

2009-03-15T12:24:00.000-07:00

I have become so involved with all things Camino-related over the last few months that I tend to assume most people know all about it. For those who don´t, here are a few facts.

For over 1000 years pilgrims have been making their way across Spain to the city of Santiago, to visit the shrine of St James in the cathedral. This pilgrimage is called the Camino de Santiago de Compostela, or in English the Way of St James. St James was one of the twelve apostles and brother of John. Sant Iago (Santiago) means St James, and he is supposed to be buried in the cathedral.

The custom of making this pilgrimage nearly died out, but has revived over the last 20-30 years to the extent that it is now extremely popular. There are several official routes, amongst them the Camino Frances which I am doing. During 2008 nearly 100,000 pilgrims walked the Camino Frances, and next year, a Holy Year, the numbers are expected to be much higher.

The traditional symbol of the pilgrim is a shell, a scallop shell, often carried on a staff or attached to the rucksack. Some people look on the pilgrimage as a religious experience, others may be seeking enlightenment or a physical challenge. Your religious beliefs or motive are very personal and everyone has their own reason for doing their Camino, you don´t have to be of any particular faith.

I am not sure why I am doing mine. All I know is that there is something drawing me very strongly towards my Camino and I am very excited about the whole thing.

Turkey wattles

2009-03-12T09:59:00.000-07:00

There is a house I pass on my training walks which has a most peculiar plant in the garden. At first I thought it was a tree, but on closer inspection it proved to be some sort of creeper. It is so unusual that I took my camera along today to take some pictures of it. The bud is a large kidney-shaped bladder. When it opens the flower is shaped like a butterfly the size of a dinner plate, with a green fruit attached.
The lady of the house came out while I was messing about, and told me the plant is called "papo de peru" or turkey wattle. It has climbed all over the telegraph pole and is now venturing out along the wires. Most interesting.

I am managing to stick to my training this week and the weather is a little cooler but not much. On Sunday when I did my four hours I decided to catch a bus to Ibirapuera, the large park and do them there, but I had problems getting a bus back afterward and ended up walking nearly five hours altogether, by early afternoon when I got home it was 31C. I won´t try that again, the Sunday service leaves a lot to be desired.

While I was out today I went sprawling in a most undignified fashion. Unfortunately I´m one of those clumsy people who can trip over a pattern in the carpet, so from time to time I take a tumble. This time it was a crack in the pavement and with The Beast on my back I didn´t stand a chance. Thank goodness I got away with just a grazed knee, although I think I´ll be a bit stiff tomorrow. I must try and be more careful, having to give up my Camino because of a broken leg or whatever doesn´t bear thinking about.

Next week I can´t see how I´m going to fit in any training as I shall be at work all week and when I get home in the evening my father´s carer leaves, so I can´t go out again. This weekend also looks a washout since I have social engagements Saturday and Sunday during the day and I don´t see how I can squeeze in a four-hour walk. Ah me... the trials and tribulations of preparing to follow The Way of St James.

Three breaks...

2009-03-07T05:10:00.000-08:00

I was going to call this post "And the heat goes on...", but thank goodness overnight we have had a break in the weather. It has been between 33C and 34C all week, very tiring, difficult to sleep and impossible to keep cool. Despite this I did do my two one-hour walks with rucksack, stair climbing and exercises, so I´m feeling pretty virtuous. Today the temperature is 24C, overcast and trying halfheartedly to drizzle - ideal for a walk but unfortunately I´ve too many other things to do. I´m just hoping it will be the same for when I go out for my four hours tomorrow.

Should it rain tomorrow I could test my Altus poncho, which has eventually arrived after much hassle. I tried to buy it over the internet from Spain, but neither my credit card nor Paypal would work from here for some reason, so I asked my daughter-in-law in England to order it, which she kindly did. A friend who went to England was going to bring it back for me, but things got screwed up and it nearly went astray in the post. Luckily my son and family were due out for a visit so eventually I got it delivered personally yesterday, a great relief.

My other lucky break was that I heard today I finally have a night carer for my father, who lives with me. He will be 90 this month, is frail and blind. I have daily help as he can´t be left on his own, but I take over when she leaves at five. Once a year when I go away I need to find someone to sleep in, which isn´t always easy. When I bought my ticket for Spain it was an act of faith since I hadn´t found anyone yet, and I have been quietly chewing my nails ever since, so thank goodness that is sorted.

Hot, hot, hot.

2009-03-01T16:29:00.000-08:00

Before I started my four-hour walk on Saturday I took Toby out as usual at eight in the morning. The temperature was already 28C at that time, with blue skies and strong sunshine. Shortly after, I set off and walked to a large park a fair distance away, walked in the park for an hour then headed back home. The sun was really strong and I tried to walk in the shade as much as possible.

I was pleased to note that The Beast didn´t really trouble me too much, and a ten-minute break for a drink of water and some fruit halfway through made quite a difference. But the day got hotter and hotter and by the beginning of the fourth hour I began to struggle, feeling the strain in my legs and my feet started aching. I hadn´t expected this since I´d thought the rucksack would be the problem. By the time I got home at one in the afternoon the temperature had soared to 34C and I was whacked. I had to sit down for five minutes before I could face attempting the eight flights of stairs.

I imagine my legs were aching because of the weight, and I suppose the heat didn´t help, either. After some stretching exercises, a nice cool shower and some food I felt pretty good though, so maybe the training I´m doing helps me to bounce back more quickly. Today I feel fine and could have gone out and done it all again, which is what I suppose you need for the Camino. I only walked about 14km, not much compared to the 20 to 30km I expect to do in Spain, but it is a start and I am quite pleased with myself (also for not getting sunstroke!).

Moving up a notch

2009-02-26T10:36:00.000-08:00

I have completed the first six weeks of training, and this week it gets a bit tougher. I am now doing two one-hour walks during the week, and shall be doing a four-hour one at the weekend. All of them of course faithfully accompanied by The Beast. The walking does not bother me too much although I have yet to see how I feel after four hours.

I know my weak point is hills, especially the 'ups', so I have decided that every time I go for a walk I won´t use the lift. Since I live on the eighth floor that means I shall walk up and down eight flights of stairs (each flight has 15 steps, as a matter of interest) fully loaded at least three times a week. Later I intend to increase this as my building has fourteen flights altogether. I did something similar to prepare for the Inca Trail.

Now, all of the above I can cope with, even if I have to occasionally grit my teeth to keep going. What I really can´t stand are all the set exercises for stretching and strengthening the muscles, I find them excruciatingly boring. At this stage there is an hour´s worth after every walk and I find them a real pain in the proverbial. I can walk ´til the cows come home, but gym in any shape or form drives me nuts. I know it´s an essential part of my training, so it is no good whinging on about it, I´ll just have to find a way of making it more enjoyable. I thought of music, but since I´m counting most of the time that might make me lose track of where I´m up to (having to go back to the beginning again doesn't bear thinking about). The same goes for television. I think I´ll try some music next time, anyway, maybe a compilation of hits from the sixty´s and seventy´s and see how it goes. I must find a solution. Watch this space!

Essential bits and bobs

2009-02-24T06:14:00.000-08:00

My 'first-aid kit' can hardly be called that, it is so basic. There are chemists in the towns and villages, so I don´t feel the need to carry a load of stuff I may (hopefully) not need. What I am taking is a small roll of plaster, some gauze squares, a tube of antiseptic, needle and thread for blisters (that also counts as my sewing kit!), a small pair of scissors, paracetamol, tablets for muscular pain, regular medication, and last but not least a pair of tweezers.

The tweezers are one of those gadgety things I normally wouldn´t carry. They come in a little case slightly larger than a lipstick, with a narrow strip of mirror inside. The tweezers themselves tweeze very well and actually have a little light you can switch on between the pincers which shines on what you are tweezing. Good for removing splinters or whatever in a dimly lit hostel.

I saw an identical pair being used when they came in very handy indeed. A few posts back I mentioned that I spent New Year with some friends on an island which is a nature reserve. I have been there several times as it is a truly wonderful place to stay. It takes several hours to get there by boat, and there are no roads, no cars, no electricity. Fishermen live there in a couple of clusters of simple houses, and you stay with them. The rest of the island is deserted, with empty beaches over 20km long, and waterfalls to visit in the hills. A corner of Paradise perfect for long relaxing walks.

Anyway, one evening during dinner a member of our group suddenly choked, and it turned out she had a fish bone stuck in the back of her throat. By sheer good luck one of our group was a doctor, not only that but she was an ENT specialist. In the dim light from the generator she was really struggling to try and remove the fish bone which was firmly embedded in the poor victim. Lo and behold, when the tweezers were produced (several of us had been given them as a Christmas gift) the problem was quickly solved, much to the poor patient´s relief. Two very fortuitous coincidences as we were a long way from anywhere, on New Years Eve.

Now, I don´t expect a similar dramatic need for my tweezers on the Camino, but I´m taking them anyway, you never know...

Guides, maps and books

2009-02-19T16:18:00.000-08:00

I have been trying to decide for some time about the best guidebook and/or map to take with me. I don´t plan to take any other books to read because of the weight. I´ll really miss them as I am a voracious reader. As soon as I have finished one book I immediately start another, and I always read in bed at night before going to sleep - I´m hoping I´ll be so tired I wont miss my nightly 'fix'!

Anyway, I finally decided I didn´t want a conventional guide book, partly again because of the weight, but also because I think too much information can distract you, like when you are so busy trying to capture it all on camera that you are not really looking at the scenery. Apparently the route is so well marked with yellow arrows that you don´t actually need a map. Despite this I opted for a book of maps and also a practical pilgrim guide for the Camino Frances which gives brief details of the route and full details of distances, accommodation, what shops there are, etc.

The pilgrim guide is from the Confraternity of St James, in London, and is updated annually. It looks as if it will prove to be extremely useful for the day-to-day information as you go along, especially for choosing where to stay, and it also has a central section full of good tips and advice which can be removed after reading.

The book of maps I also bought through the Confraternity (excellent service, by the way, I received them within a week of ordering over the internet). The book is by John Brierley and has maps of the daily stages, profile maps and route information. I may not need it to find the way, but I like to know what awaits me before setting off walking in the morning . There is nothing more disheartening than thinking you have three hills to climb, staggering up the third and finding there are two more ahead before you can call it a day. If it is going to be a tough stretch I´d rather know and get psyched up for it before setting off, as well as being able to pace myself properly.

Both books are light, together they weigh 266g which I think is fine considering how useful I´m sure they will be.

A bit more equipment

2009-02-16T13:06:00.000-08:00

After much thought I have decided to add another item to my list. In Brazil we call it a "canga", in English I´m not sure - maybe a sarong or a beach wrap? Since I am nearly 750g under my maximum weight, I thought my canga would be worth its weight of 230g as a useful addition. I can wrap myself in it in the unisex bathrooms, use it as a shower curtain, or a bunk curtain should I feel the need for a little privacy, use it as a bed sheet or a shawl, or even as a picnic cloth - the possibilities seem endless - so it is definitely going. I have just bought a new one as my last one disintegrated from too much sun and sea. The lightest one I could find (I took my kitchen scales to the shopping mall - beware the mad Englishwoman!) was a bright red/pink/black/purple (I know). I only hope the colours are fast as I don´t fancy coming out of the shower with a multicoloured skin!

I did my usual two hours training walk with The Beast yesterday morning. It wasn´t much fun as it was drizzling most of the time, but very warm. I wore a showerproof jacket and got soaked with perspiration. On the Camino I shall wear a poncho which goes over the rucksack, so that shouldn´t be a problem. I also don´t think the temperature will be around 30C in Spain in May. In the evening my legs felt rather stiff. God help me if that is how I am going to feel after just two hours walking on the flat. On the Camino I should be aiming for three times that every day, up hill and down dale...

Unfortunately I live in the middle of a very large city. It is extremely flat around here and I have to walk in the streets or parks. There is no hilly countryside nearby that I can get to, so I have to just do the best I can. As my training starts to build up I intend to start using the stairs every day as I live on the eighth floor. I´d love to be training in the real countryside as it is rather boring this way, but I don´t really have a choice. I try and focus on the reason for it all and that keeps me going.

Equipment

2009-02-13T08:52:00.000-08:00

This is my rucksack, also known as The Beast. It weighs 1.6kg, too heavy, I know... it has a removable rain cover weighing 100g which I shall do without as I am taking a coverall poncho. Its capacity is 40 + 0.5L which should be ample. I know some people think if you have extra space you will fill it, but I don´t think that will be a problem for me as I intend to stick very strictly to my packing list.
I´ve tried putting everything in it out of curiosity, and there doesn´t seem to be that much room to spare, anyway.

The "towel" I am taking is actually 3 baby nappies, the cotton gauze type. I was given this tip by a travel guide. They are very light, absorbent and dry quickly. I´ve actually tested them after a shower, and they really work. I managed to dry myself with two, including my hair, and a couple of hours later they were bone dry. They can also be used as a scarf if you´re chilly, or to protect the back of your neck from the sun, or as padding if something is rubbing, or wrapped round a pillow if it looks grubby. A friend of mine stitched two together, but I think they are more versatile separate.

This is my complete list:

Rucksack 1500g
Bumbag 141g
Sleeping bag 650g
1 pr trousers 245g
1 pr bermuda trousers 356g
2 short sleeve T-shirts 210g
1 long sleeve T-shirt 149g
Fleece 259g
3 sets underwear 252g
2 prs liner socks 46g
3 prs outer socks 230g
Trainers 740g
Sandals 445g
Shower/windproof jacket 235g
Altus poncho 500g
Gloves 32g
Sun hat 76g
Warm hat 57g
Medication and 1st aid 142g
Toiletries 300g
Towel 142g
Torch + batteries 65g
Camera + batteries 309g
Camera bits 50g
Ear plugs -
Notebook and pen 108g
Glasses and spares 56g
Sunglasses 88g
Penknife w/ corkscrew 49g
Guidebook 135g
Map book 150g
Water and snacks 1200g
Purse, passport and docs 60g
Whistle -
Plastic cup 34g

The above comes to 9.011kg. My bumbag and contents will be around 750g, and I´ll be wearing around 2kg (including footwear) at any one time, so my rucksack should weigh 6.260kg altogether, 740g under the 7kg maximum I have allowed myself. In fact I keep wondering if I´ve left out anything essential as it all weighs less than I expected!