| 16/06/03 |
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I only managed to do the 7km from Leon through Virgen del Camino before crashing. It's a small village next to a busy road and houses a beautiful but very modern church. A little old lady dragged me inside and almost forced a sello on me. It's a nice one and I'm glad to have it.
I took a room in Hotel Central for 20€, it's small but clean.
Temperatures are high once again and I'm glad I stopped. I go to lunch with Nan and Rie who also decided to stop here today. It's a very calm day.
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| 17/06/03 |
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Left at 7 am this morning and after some doubting and looking around, I finally found the correct path to follow if I wanted to avoid the carretera. No one's up yet, it's nice and fresh and I manage to keep a good pace.
After a quick rest in Fremo, I march on. I arrive in the hamlet of Oncina after having climbed up a hill. After another rest I scramble up the next hill and arrive on a large plateau overgrown with low plants mostly. It looks as if the hilltop was cut off with a hot knife. I can see some trees every 700-800m or so but no other markings. I walk on worried about losing the way but find some marks after all. It's a rather boring path so I dream away a little.
After a while I overtake Nan and Rie who are having a bite to eat. We exchange some small talk and I go on to Chozas da Abajo where I arrive after 15 minutes or so. I crash on a bench and have a croissant, chat with a Frenchman and a local who wishes us a Buen Viaje.
As usual, the last kilometres are the hardest. The camino leads us on an asphalt road and my feet hurt. It takes me over an hour to arrive in Villar de Mazarife, where I find the albergue easily. Unfortunately, it's not open yet so I decide to wait a bit at a nearby bar. An innocent beer shoots directly to my head. Wow.
The albergue finally opened and the showers are the usual adventure. The kitchen is basic but stocked with pans. In the Livre d'Or I find a note and a drawing from Igor the donkey's pilgrim. I'm happy to see they're faring well; they're about 8 days ahead of me. It's great to find traces of the people I've met; last time was in Santo Domingo where I found a note from Daphne the Canadian.
I must say that I found the general atmosphere better in the mountains, where we had a bit of a survivor thing going on<; there's more of a laissez-faire here and although the stages aren't easy, people almost see you as tourists now. As the road lends itself towards it, I've had more of an opportunity to think here though but I did prefer the -albeit heavier- stages in the mountains. I'm not made for dry deserts. Although the mountains promise more pain, I'll be glad to see them again. My legs will have to get used to it again.
I am getting rather tired. I thought my body would get stronger after so many kilometres but I think it's actually getting worn down. I'll be happy to arrive. I miss home. I've been on the road for 35 days now. I miss my parents. It's getting long and I'm afraid for another Pamplona-style slump. I think I'll take another rest day in Ponferrada.
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| 18/06/03 |
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After a good night's sleep, I left around 7 am. It's nice and cool and I take advantage of the weather to up the tempo. Unfortunately, I lose the arrows after 4 km and I have a dark-brown suspicion that I missed a turn-off somewhere which is impossible as there is no other road. So I walk another 2 km, wondering and worrying until finally! An arrow. Goshdarnit, couldn't they have put it a km or two back?!
The camino leads us on a small provincial road amongst the usual endless fields and shadowed by regular trees. We were then led over a harsh bit of rocky road all the way to Villavente which I didn't enter. I rested a while next to a little stream where frogs were holding an animated meeting. I took a quick look before they all dived away; they're dark green with a bright green stripe running from nose to rear. Cute.
After having seen rigs and trucks all along the road, I see the clou of the soirée....Massive roadworks on the highway that have obliterated the camino. So, amidst trucks bringing on earth, caterpillar rigs and other big material, I clamber up a grit hill in which I sink away to the ankles while hoping I'm going in the right direction. Workers watch me with a slightly bemused look on their faces but as no one says a thing I go on and arrive on the bridge above the highway. ouf. I cross a dangerous crossroads and after another kilometre or so, I finally arrive in Hospital de Orbigo. The 250m long medieval bridge is indeed wonderful as is the church bearing 4 stork nests. The albergue, on the other hand, is mediocre. I chose the parochial one as the other one lies in the woods and was advised against. Well, the patio is very nice but the beds are dirty and placed in a small dirty cinderblock building. We'll not talk about the showers.
After a meal in an unpleasant restaurant and a not-so encouraging phonecall home (mom is having serious back problems) I get a bit melancholic and hope for tomorrow. The first 300km are behind me.
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| 19/06/03 |
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For the first time in over ten days, I was cold at night. yay! Of course the door of our little cabin remained open the entire night so I had to crawl in my sleeping bag. It was a change. Up early, small breakfast and on the road around 6.45 am. It's not even entirely bright out. Great walking weather.
There is a choice in roads, I take the Walkers' Route and head into the usual fields. The road is flat all the way to Villares de Orbigo where it goes up into the wooded hills. Great, not flat and no grit path. It's a bit hard in some places as my legs are no longer used to anything except the horizontal but I keep up a good pace. After going up and down another hill I get to Santibanez de Valdeiglesia where I take a quick break.
I go on, the path leads up to a farm where I first get a big scare and then feel very stupid as I mistook the backend of a calf sticking out of a cage for the backend of a ginormeous dog. Stupid. Then again, I'm very mistrustful of the Spanish dogs.
After the farm, the path turns into a cobble-strewn dirt road. My poor little feet. It's without doubt the worst road I've walked on so far, except for the Zubiri one. It's a good thing I have my walking stick or I would've slipped and fallen more than once. As the terrain is very open, it's starting to get pretty hot so I'm glad when a few shadowy clumps of trees appear. Alas, 50 m further the road leads away from the trees towards two fearsome looking hills which turn out pretty easy after all. Once up the hills, we arrive on a plateau which leads us to the Cruz de Santo Toribio. It's flat. My feet burn, my hip hurts, flies are bothering me and the road seems endless. There is nothing to sit on and I dare not sprawl out on the ground. I don't think I'd be able to get up.
Finally, we see the Cruz. I clamp my teeth together and march on. At the Cruz, there is a magnificent view on San Justo, Astorga 3 km away and the Cordillera Catabrica. I leave a nice shiny stone at the Cruz in the hope I can beg some protection on the next part. I rest a while at some picnic tables.
After a while I head down the hill on another difficult road into San Justo where I get held up by a curious local who speaks some french. The conversation goes somewhat like this:
him: Your staff?
me: yes
him: strong staff, like you.
me:...thanks?
him: Zaftig
me: I know.
him: married?
me: nope
him: how old?
me: 27
him: If only I were still 28...*grin*
me: ah well...
etc. I manage to escape after a little while and walk on, sniggering.
It's getting very hot and there is no shade anymore on the carretera. After a bridge going out of San Juan, I'm led back on a gritty path. The endless path leads past some sort of factory before getting us back on the asphalt. We cross two small railroads before having to attempt the vertical roads into the city of Astorga. Hot hot hot. I finally arrive at a shaded park and rest a while. I argue the way to the albergue a bit with two other pilgrims but I end up deciding to follow the yellow arrows which lead my to a big albergue which is already open. It's set up in an old school and the playground is still being used. I have a bed, a hot shower and washing facilities. I'm happy.
After a refreshing nap and a slightly more positive call home, I have lunch and wander around the town a while until the museums open.
The Gaudi palace is magnificent. It looks like a gingerbread house, like a gothic Disney castle. I love it. The interior, especially the chapel, is wonderful with beautiful glass-in-lead windows and gorgeous paintings. Unfortunately, photography was not allowed and there were hardly any postcards sold. The exposition itself inside is not much, mostly mediocre Romanesque-baroque religious art that no other museum wants. Oh well.
The cathedral, gothic start and baroque finish, was nice but barren. The museum belonging to it had some superior pieces, amongst which a Limoges email item, a few beautiful statues and some awesome cantors. Not bad at all, but the religious art is starting to overwhelm me.
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| 20/06/03 |
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I got up a little later today as I was planning to stop in Santa Catalina de Somoza after about 10 km. The first 4.5km are very hard, my Achilles tendons hurt and I'm having bus-nightmares. I rest a while in Merias de Rechivaldo as there is a bar open there and I enjoy a nice Cafe solo grande and 2 nurofen. The terrain is a bit steppe-like but rockier and covered with low bushes. There are quite a few pilgrims on the road and everyone keeps up the tempo.
I reach Catalina about an hour later and rest up a bit more while taking care of my feet. Fresh blister coverings, some vicks vaporub and dry socks. Some twenty minutes later I feel capable of going on. The scenery doesn't change much but pilgrims seem to have kept themselves entertained by arranging red pebbles on the white road in the shapes of hearts, arrows, smilies, etc. Where did they find the energy?
I arrive in the teeny tiny village of El Ganso a short hour later and have an expensive drink in the famous Bar Cowboy. Oh well, it got me a nice sello. I move on past the pretty church and into a lunar landscape. It's starting to get hot as it's nearing noon but I want to cover the last 7 km to Rabanal. With mountains on the background, I walk a km or so on the hot asphalt which my feet don't like at all, then back on a dusty path, then again on the carretera.
A large flock of sheep and goats is roaming over the fields up to the bridge I have to cross and suddenly a dog the size of a calf shows up, scaring the bejeezus out of me. To avoid confrontation, I make a huge detour into a field and almost run up a hill. Never did see the shepherd.
The last 4 km take me on the asphalt in the scorching hot noon sun. I feel myself dehydrating even though I fill up on Isostar. Here and there, I see a bird of prey drifting in the thermal or slowly circling around. Beautiful.
After a few kilometres from hell, I catch a first glimpse of Rabanal when a car pulls over and a man quickly gets out. He's a Flemish man who is re-doing the camino by car and gives me a little paper flag of the Flemish St-James association. What are the chances? After he drives on, I climb up the steep Calle Real and rest up a bit in the blessedly cool interior of the Ermita. After five minutes, I go on to the Refuge Guacelmo where there are another 16 people waiting in line before it opens.
It's a very clean albergue. After a refreshing shower, I head out to find lunch and against my better judgment decide to order a Cocido Maragate. Oh Dear. It starts out with a meat platter: beef, chorizo, chicken, pork (with hairy skin) all boiled. Then you get a platter of cabbage and garbanzo peas, delicious but heavy. And to fill up any remaining holes, you get the meaty soup everything was boiled in. To end this feast, natillas and coffee. All that and half a bottle of wine for a mere 15€. Peanuts. I waddled back to the refuge and took a good long rest. Until I remembered I still had laundry to do. Argh. After that necessary task, I rested until 19.30h after which I bought some necessities for the next day.
>br>Due to the combo of heavy food, wine and theology, I slept quite badly.
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| 21/06/03 |
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It's hard to get up today but I manage to get going around 7 am and already it's pretty warm. My body is having trouble getting moving, damn wine. The first part of the walk has us wrestling through man-high plants while being cheerled on by a small swarm of flies. The up on the carretera and a swift climb up to Foncebadon at an altitude of 1495m. I get on quite fine except for my feet, the hot sun and the annoyingly peppy flies. I drink a lot of water today and after an hour and a half I'm in Foncebadon. The view of the valley below is fantastic and it's quite incredible to think I walked all that. Foncebadon is no longer as abandoned as it used to be, I see at least 10 completely restored and habitable houses, the restored church, 2 bars (one with rooms) and electricity. I think that five years from now, Foncebadon might be starting to get commercial and touristy.
I arrive at the Cruz de Ferro about an hour later. I caught my first glimpse of it about two km back which was rather emotional. Unfortunately, there are a lot of car-tourists swarming over the pile. John the camping car guy is here also. I dumped off my backpack at the graffiti-covered chapel and clambered up the stone pile. I dropped the little pebbles I had gathered at my deceased grandmother's ancestral home and tied the paper flag round the pole. I manage to find a spot amidst the teddy bears, shirts, shoes, pictures, flowers, letters, pants, computer disks and braid of hair, not to mention the dozens of inscribed stones. Incredible. This is quite an emotional spot for me, I'm shaking and tearing up. I never thought I'd make this far. I'm extremely happy.
After Cruz de Ferro, it's a beautiful path towards Manjarin. Wonderful view of the entire Cordillera from green hills nearby to the snow-capped mountains farther off and a vague outline of the mountains on the right. Plant growth mainly consists of low bushes, grasses and moss except for some firs and pines and pretty purple flowers. I think the rocks are composed of a sort of schist as it breaks off in large flat plaques. I think a lot about theology today, comparing catholic orthodoxy with Wicca and Buddhism. It's a nice mental exercise.
Anyway, while thinking all these deep thoughts and after admiring the wonderful nature around me, I quickly arrive in Manjarin which consists or ruined houses and Tomás' refugio. I'm rather happy I didn't plan to stay here tonight. It's very messy and dirty. I get a sello, buy a rosary and move on. I suspect that this refugio must look like heaven when caught in bad weather or in winter.
I'm walking on my last litre of water, it's hot and there's another 7km to go. The path leads through a forest and then up the hated carretera. I climb up towards what my guide tells me is the highest point of the camino. I rest up a bit but I have to move on despite the pain. It's in those times that road seems endless and the last kilometres the hardest. The road leads straight down and it's hard to keep a grip on the melting tarmac. The valley opens before me and I see Ponferrada in the distance. The camino twice drifts away from the carretera onto a sand path but it remains a tough and steep walk. The views are magnificent. Suddenly, El Acebo lies before me. Well, 150m below me. A very small, extremely steep and rocky path degringoleerd off the falaise and I have no choice but to stumble down with it. Ow ow ow.
El Acebo is a nice village of two streets with a central drain. The houses are built with large stones but with wooden stairs and balconies. Reminds me of Switzerland. The municipal albergue is closed so I take a bed in Meson El Acebo. For 4€, I have a bed, a hot shower and a bathroom light that turns itself off every two minutes. After a nice meal in the bar, I do pretty much nothing for the rest of the day.
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| 22/06/03 and 23/06/03 |
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I had a relatively calm night. I wake up and my brain only needs a millisecond to realise "hey, it's light outside" before I glance at my watch and jump out of the bed with a "wow!" It's almost 7 am! Ai Ai ai and I was going to get up early. I get dressed and pack up in great haste, glad I made it a habit of packing most of my bag the night before, and storm away around 7.30.
I pass the memorial to the German pilgrim who dies here and get on the carretera. After a steep descent, there's finally a path to Riegos de Ambros. It's starting to get warm and from time to time a hot Bierzo breeze does not cool me off. I'm being followed by the usual swarm of cheerleading flies until I arrive at Riegos after 45 minutes. It's a nice mountain village with Alps aspirations. I suspect that the wealthy Ponferrada citizens may have their summer houses here considering the cars parked here. As it's a Sunday morning, nothing stirs. I refill my bottles at the nearest fuente and go on. The path leads out of the village and steeply down the mountain. I hope it won't last too long (ha ha ha). The path turns rockier and harder. It reminds me of the deadly Zubiri path. I wrestle through bushes and try not to fall on my face. As usual, my staff id my rescue and I wonder how the pilgrims with donkeys handle this.
A bit further I have to bend double as the camino leads under a fallen fir tree which lies as a thick roof abut a meter above the camino for three meters. I try not to think of lurking bugs. Afterwards, the road climbs again through the woods. I'm relieved when the path finally clears. About 500 meters one, I cross the carretera and climb up another side of the hill. A rabbit and I both surprise each other as it bounds away post haste.
The road is still very rocky and dusty, which means I can follow in the previous pilgrim's traces. A sure sign I'm still headed in the right direction. Of course, what goes up must come down and so must I. Steep, very steep and rocky. I slow down a bit as I don't want to go headfirst down the mountain but I still stumble a few times. Once down, the path leads back up the other side of the hill. I have to pay much attention to where I put my feet as the rocks are sharp and irregular. Again, I think of poor Igor the donkey that had to pass this. But the donkey poo proves it must me manageable. I now have a splendid view of the Cordillera. I curve down the mountainside and see the beautiful slate roofs of Molinaseca and Ponferada in the distance.
Going with the general theme of the day, I have to descend steeply for another 100 m or so down. I rest up a bit at the Capilla de la Virgen de las Angustias; two cats keep me company. But I must go on and after crossing a beautiful old bridge and another quick rest, I continue down the Calle Real past pretty houses and a multitude of bars, a beautiful cruceiro and a modern statue of St James until I reach the carretera. I pass the dingy-looking refuge. Up another hill, and down to Campo. Steeply. I zig-zag my way down the gravel, then back up the other side and down again towards Campos. A smallish village with a Romanesque church and a medieval church and ...I'm too tired to go out of my way to see them. I'm running on nurofen for the moment as I seem to have tendonitis in my toe of all places. Anyway, I say hola to a couple of cats and rest a bit on a low wall. As usual, once I sit, a local shows up for a chat. The fact I don't speak Spanish does not deter him but after a couple of minutes I have to go on. I walk through the suburbs of Ponferrada, nearly jumping out of my skin about every 5 minutes or so because of the loud bangs of something or other. The asphalt is melting on the streets and smells awful. With pleasure, I rest up on a bench in the shade and listen to gaita music on someone's radio, until I realise it's not a radio but a little troupe walking the village streets. I enjoy the music and only move on when the troupe move on too. Accompanied but loud bangs and a haunting rendition of 'Danny Boy' I cross the bridge and enter Ponferrada. As I don't plan to stay in the albergue tonight, I try to find my way through the old city. I quickly arrive at the cathedral where the ground and streets are decorated by carpets of flowers. I think it's some sort of Holy Sacrament celebration. I wander towards the Clock gateway and find out that the pensión where I was planning to stay no longer exists.
I follow the carpet of flowers into another street where a tourist wants to take a picture of me (in full gear) while I look pensively at a cross on the flower carpet. Snort. I finally manage to find the Plaza de Espana and the ayuntamiento and a three-star hotel. Ai. It's either that or I have to find my way in the new district of Ponferrada. I think it over and go in to ask the prices. 52.50€ for a single room, same as in Burgos. As it's my last stopover in a hotel until Santiago, I decide to go for it. The hotel is brand new, all woods and parquet flooring. My room is large, the bed excellent and the bathroom fantastic. Heaven. I run a nice hot bath while watching the news on a flatscreen TV and drinking a soda from the mini-bar. Luxury overdose.
The next day is spent doing pretty much nothing whatsoever.
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