Santiago de Compostela (Oct 11)

We started off when there was just enough light so that we could cover the last 9 km of our long journey and arrive at Santiago in time for the daily mass at noon.

Last night there was a period of very heavy downpour and we wondered if that would accompany us today. It was drizzling as we left and of course when we got to Monte do Gozo at the outer edge, Santiago was hidden behind a veil of mist and rain.

Soon we were venturing into the urban streets of Santiago and as in any other cities we dodged the cars and raced across pedestrian crossings. No worries about cow dung piles anymore!

Up a gentle slope, through one of the gates to the old town (Porto Do Camino) and we were there in Prazo Obradoiro and in front of us, the end of our journey, the end of the Camino de Santiago, was the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela.

We had more than an hour before the daily noon mass so our first call was to the Pilgrim's Office to have the last stamp on our credentials and receive a certificate of our achievement. The document was in Latin (we would need to read tbe translation but we are sure it said something nice). K's name was entered in the Latin form of Catuarinam whereas mine was wisely left alone in the original form by the lady who received me. We gladly accepted their congratulations.

We left the office and returned to tbe Cathedral for the mass (held in Spanish of course) and the spectacular and eagerly awaited swinging of the giant incence burner.

Outside in the Prazo the crowd resembled a post graduation ceremony celebration. Even the sun came out behind the clouds, briefly.

(This completes the blog but it will be updated with some photos and edited to improve content. For new  postings please revert to http://reshui.blogspot.com)

Salceda to Vilamaior (Oct 10)

At Salceda we were just 29 km from Santiago. We booked accommodation at Vilamaior so that we will have only 9km to walk into Santiago on the next morning.

The morning was glorious by Galician standard - it was not raining. Passing the village of St Irene after a few hours walk we entered a forest that touched us with nostalgia - eucalyptus trees, with the same powerful scent of the oil but trees here were much taller and lushier.

The euphoria for the absence of rain was shortlived. The drizzle came and it became more like intermittent rain. A British type weather one might say; I was told there was a connection in more than one way between Galicia and Gaelic countries of Britain and Ireland further north, for they shared the Celtic past. Of course there are better sources on the internet regarding this bit of history.

Later as we went over a hill nearer to Vilamaior we had the distraction of the noise of aircrafts taking off for we were passing the runway of the Santiago airport. Earlier we had sent a message of bon voyage to Sue and Dave who were flying off from there. In a few days it would be our turn!

The last 5 km to Vilamaior seemed to take ages like it always did at the end of each day. There was a steep hill to climb after the penultimate village of Lavacolla. As we struggled on in the rain we thought we pondered on the reasons why so many Galicians had emigrated as the guidebook told us - must be the weather! Of course in actual fact it was a whole lot of other factors including poverty in the recent past.

When we finally arrived and shown to our room it was literary a warm feeling. The owner had very thoughtfully turned on the heater on a full blast. Before long my wet pants were dry and the wet weather forgotten - for today.

Arzua to Salceda (Oct 9)

We had a short day, just as well. It would have been be difficult to handle the wet over a longer distance. The intermittent drizzle and rain (rain usually returned as soon as we put our poncho away) and soggy ground made progress slow. A village passing by wished us "bueno diaz"  (good day) and K muttered "glad it's good for you".

As we got near Salceda we followed a hand painted sign on the asphalt telling us that the hotel and albergue accommodation we booked for was in a direction away from the Camino route, down a side road on the other side of the main road, quite contrary to the indication on the guidebook map. We followed it for half a kilometre or more before we decided we must have been mistaken and returned to the Camino route. We had been warned that there were instances of practical jokes being played on pilgrims.

A kilometre further we came to an attractive roadside tavern and decided to have lunch there. It was a saver for the otherwise miserable day (mainly due to the weather).  The entree dish of wild mushroom with egg was unusually non-traditional and good but we did wonder where the mushroom came from having seen an abundance of them in the woods. The main courses of fish (hake) and minced pork were good too.

After lunch we asked the publican where our booked accommodation Pousada de Salceda was, he said he would ring for the transport as it was a kilometre away. The transport came and we were brought down the road we were previously heading and continued on a little further. The surprise was it was a modern resort type accommodation that not only had dormitory beds alberque style but also rooms with very modern finishing. Restored from an old stone building it was warm and dry, and very much what we meeded after the very wet day. Another Lestedo type experience!

Lobreiro to Arzua (Oct 8)

When we were leaving Lestedo, I asked the Galician manager which were the wet months in Galicia. He said in Galicia it rained every month of the year and every day each month. Since we already had a few days of fine weather our luck would soon run out. So it was not surprising that it was drizzling when we left Lebreiro morning and it continued intermittently throughout the morning. When the rain stopped it became uncomfortably warm and humid.

We passed through much the same terrain but the tracks were more even. We wanted to call in at the local tourism office at the major town of Melide to find out more about the services we could expect to have in Santiago on Sunday Oct 12 (our free day in Santiago after our arrival there) for we had just discovered that it was the important St Columbus Day, a public holiday all over Spain. Before we knew it, the Camino had taken us out of the town without passing any tourist office and we were unwilling to walk back into town. We also missed tbe main church where we had hoped to get a stamp on our credentials. But we did not miss seeing the series of restaurants serving pulpo that the town was famous for.

Another 5 km on at the village of Boente, the local priest was on duty as the guidebook said he normally would, meeting pilgrims, giving blessings and stamping their credentials. In fact he was the first Catholic priest we have met after over nearly 40 days of walking. On reflection, over the past few days in Galicia, we have noticed that Galicia was rather deficient in fine restored churches that we had come to expect in each village and town in Castilla and Navarra provinces, and where even small villages had some very important religious links to the past. It wss a bit of history that we had not totally understood.  Still, the province impressed with it lushness and natural beauty (when the rain and forests were not hindering the view).

Just before Arzua, we saw a moving sight. Four young men vigorously pushing a sick youth on a mobile bed along the Camino route. The sick youth must wished to go on the Camino.

We wanted a more comfortable day after yesterday's surprisingly tough 14km but the location of towns and quality of accommodation were such that we ended up having to do more than 20km or so. The stop we chose was in fact beyond Arzua, which at the end of the day was always a struggle.

The hotel we stayed in was a disappointment. It was one of those that we could sense the moment we walked in that our washings would not dry! In fact the heating equipment was leaking water into the room that surely made the matter worse. The restaurant had a good menu but my steak was not defrosted properly before the chef cooked it and I had to have it sent back. Not a good ending to the day except that we had good news from our friends Sue and Dave that they had arrived at Santiago, mission accomplished!  They started at Sarria a couple of days before we got there.

Lestedo to Lobereiro (Oct 7)

 It was such a pleasure to stay at the Rectoral de Lestode and we made a point of sleeping in after the previous day's long walk. We woke to a very nice breakdast (more than just toast and coffee, we even had fruits, spanish sausages and Santiago cakes).

At Lestedo we were about 73km from Santiago. It was time to plan the walk into the ultimate destination. The young and enthusiastic could do it in 2 days but given what we were capable of doing and wanting a 10 km half-day leisurely walk into Santiago on the final day, we settled on a 5 day final journey instead.

A few kilometres from Lestedo we reached at the fringe of Palas de Rei where we had a long stop to use at the facilities of the local municipal albergue, including their internet and cafe. (Lestedo was so small that it had no internet connections).  It was interesting that many alberques had very good facilities that included facilities for washings and the internet, but not more personal space which we preferred.

12th century church at San Xulian.

Though we set ourselves just 14km day it was tiring because of the ups and downs over numerous small streams and rivers and the hot and humid conditions of the wooded terrain. We were relieved when we finally arrived at the the casa rurale we booked at Lobreiro, a renovated country house run by a kindly woman and her family. She quickly told us that it being sunday there would be no cooked meals anywhere in the small hamlet. However the entreprising lady also ran a small cafe at tbe back of the building in a semi temporary shed that served a good jamon boccadillo.

Portomarin to Lestedo (Oct 6)

Leaving Portomarin we went up a gradual incline to a peak that was hardly discernible. Many walkers leaving Portomarin head for the major centre of Palas de Rei but the 25km would be too difficult for us so we looked for a closer day destination. Instead, from a list suggested by our comfortable hotel at Sarria, we picked to stay at a place located at the quiet hamlet of Lestedo, a mere 20km away. We were secretly pleased that by that stage of our walk, we were able to consider 20km as acceptable distance.

The weather forecast in the morning was unfavourable but the wet did not eventuate apart from a few drops. In fact the overcast sky with gentle breeze should be ideal for walking and the terrain throughout the day was green and gently undulating with forests and tree-lined tracks. StIll we struggled a bit, probably because we were not used to consecutive long days. We had lunch at a quiet cafe (jamon and boccadillo of course) and felt better after that.

Sign near Ligonde says Pilgrims' Cemetery but we could see any graves.

As usual we met other walkers on the way. With most we were too engrossed with walking to exchange more than "Buen Camino" or even just an "hola", but with some we chatted. A Venezuelan now living in the US asked us where we came from etc, and when I said I grew up in Singapore, he immediately said he used to sell sardines for the Ayam brand of the canned fish!  (Singaporeans reading this will know the brand well). We sometimes got surprises like that.

With the denser population, the hamlets in Galicia were getting closer together as we approached Santiago, and while they appeared as distinct markings on the map, they were not easily identified. As we walked on, it was often hard to keep track of where we actually were. With the frequent ups and downs of the tracks, we could not tell the change in elevation and the peaks marked on the map were often as distinct as we expected. It was not until we saw the sign for Ligonde village that we knew we were nearly at our day's destination.

The place we booked to stay at Lestedo was converted from an old pilgrims' hospital. When we stepped in, we had the biggest surprise. Instead of simple hostel that we had got used to and had come to expect each night, we found ourselves in a modern resort type accommodation with modern furnishing that reminded us of some of the restored palaces we stayed in in India earlier this year. Dinner was good, a simple but well prepared mushroom and tomato paste dish for first course (K had the traditional salad), while our main course of salt crusted oven baked chicken was delicious. For dessert, we had whisky cake ice cream. Some pilgrims could be embarrassed by the luxury of it all, but we enjoyed all that.

Where we stayed at Lestedo.

Sarria to Portomarin (Oct 5)

We planned a long 22km day involving a climb to 660m and then a drop of 300m to the little town of Portomarin. Even though the long day and ups and downs were strenuous, the scenery was rewarding with green pastures interspersed with forests of chestnut, oak and birch trees. With the higher rainfall, the trees are tall in this part of Spain.

Sarria at just 110km from Santiago is the starting point for a lot of people because  the rule for qualifying for a compostela (certificate) at Santiago required a pilgrim to walk the last 100km at a minimum. The new starters have the freshness and many zipped past us with much energy and enthusiasm!

The 100km mark was a highnote for us for it marked the finishing stretch. Until the numbers were reasonably small, the final destination was quite incomprehensible, as though we had a fear of not finishing. Now, with just 100km, we were actually looking forward to it.

We posed for photos in front of the stone marker when we came to it only to discover later that it was not the correct marker and that a prankster had cheekily altered the sign. The real one came a few hundred metres later!

The 100km mark.

The bridge over the river Mino at the entrance to Portomarin was spectacular for its height over the dry river bed, quite threatening for those fearful of heights. In fact K chose to walk on the traffic lane rather than the pedestrian path so as to be further away from the railing.

Compared to other towns and villages, Portomarin was lacking in old buildings. Some years ago, it was shifted to higher grounds when a dam was built. The old church in the centre of the town was reassembled stone by stone at the new spot. We remain puzzled by the lack of water in the "dam" that the high bridge now crosses over.

Triacastela to Sarria (Oct 4)

Being in a valley, our room at Triacastela was cold and damp and it was too early in the season for the heating to come on. When we started out nearly 9am the sun had yet to appear above the surrounding mounains, it was freezing cold and the ground around looked frosty.

We climbed out of the valley through a rain forest and then cow pastures. The village of San Xil was not unlike the dung coated Fonfria of the previous day only that the path was steeper, and with a careless slip one would end up covered in cow excrement! Needless to say we were pleased to move on to still higher grounds, once more into forests of oak, chestnut and birch trees.

Birch forest near Triacastela.

The rest of the walk was through similar landscape of forests and pastures, a scenery of beauty except that one had to constantly watch one's feet from stepping on the even ground or cow dung!

Walking towards Sarria we were joined by a Dutch lady we met several times after Cebreiro, over the past couple of days. While chatting as we walked we discoveded we had some common background. She actually went to school in Singapore while her father was working in Java. What's more her father was working in Batu near Malang, a very little known hill resort outside of Dad´s home town of Surabaya in East Java, where we happened to stay in some years ago.

After Triacastela, we were determined to be comfortable at Sarria so we stayed at a 3-star hotel. The hotel had a "3-fork" restaurant, which we eagerly dined in. K had their pork dish in the "menu del diaz", which was always good value, and I had turbot and clams casserole even though I had never heard of the fish before. Quite a change from a diet of jamon and tortillas.

Sarria was a prosperous looking small city. We took a walk through the new part of town and topped up on our shopping needs.

Cebriero to Triacastela (Oct 3)

Morning fog at Cebreiro.

 The casa rurale we stayed in at Cebreiro was very comfortable; though the room was small, it was
well heated.


In the morning there was just one place open for breakfast and it was served by just a single tender. The queue was long and once again we expressed surprise at the lack of interest in the service industry in
a country with 25% unemployment!

The winds from across the Atlantic hits land at Galicia making its weather wet and unstable throughout the year. True to form the weather changed that night and when we left in the morning Cebreiro was shrouded in fog and drizzling. Out came the ponchos for the first time, as well as oil-skin gaiters.

The downhill walk was not as difficult as expected but we were still cautious, taking the road in parts in preference over the designated path now wet and slippery,  Throughout the descent the scenery, whenever it emerged from the fog, was stunning, the green lushness not seen earlier on the Camino. For contrast though, we also had to trod through the village of Fonfria which could be best remembered as one with its main street largely coated with a centimetre of wet cow dung such that we could not but step on it. It
was such a put off that we decided to walk another 2.5 km for our coffee break.

The weather eventually fined up but we decided to skip the last few kilometre of the descent to Triacastella where it was the steepest.

Fonfria village.

Triacastela at the foot of the range had many accommodation for peregrinos. We stayed in a room at a casa rurale but unlike the one at the top of Cebreiro it was uncomfortably cold and damp, and the heaters had yet to be turned on at that time of the year. With the humidity of Galicia and the recent rains, it meant that this was one of few times when our washings would not dry.

We had a bit of time to wander around. The church was dedicated to St James (ie Santiago) and the statue of the saint was given the most prominence. It was always good to have the time to look around the
town or village we were staying in. The gentle stroll seemed to relieve the physical stress, and in a sense the walk would not dominate the mission.

Coincidentally, there were many Aussies at the pub restaurant where we had dinner. Other pilgrims we talked to always mentioned that they had met many Aussies but until then we had not. I took pride in introducing the pulpo dish to others in the bar, and was very glad that several followed me in trying out the dish.

La Portela to O Cebreiro (Oct 2)

From La Postela our next objective was O'Cebreiro a peak on the next mountain range that marked the border with the next and final province, Galicia. The Camino path ran alongside the main road, passing through a series of villages most of which had holiday type accommodation for tourists and pilgrims as accommodation at Cebreilo can be hard to come by durring peak season.

The last 600m to the top was supposed to be quite steep and as Kay did not want to risk it so I
did it alone while she cruised up in a taxi from the village of Herrerias. The first 3 km was a steady uphill but the problem was that it was uncomfortably humid as it was through with a dense temperate rain forest. The track was unmarked and for a while I thought I was lost. Eventually I came to the village of La Faba, where I came face to face with three fat cows on a narrow path! The cowherd helped shoo the cows to one side but I ended up ducking behind him for security.

Beyond La Faba the land was cleared of trees and I had a spectacular view of the mountains an valley below. The climb was not too difficult but it was incessant and slow and I needed frequent rests, including having a soup break at a bar at Laguna, the last village before the peak.

Just before reaching the peak, I passed the maker stone that told I had entered Galicia.

The top of Cebreiro is a cluster of stone buildings all part of the tourist and pilgrimage industry. There were souvenir shops, bars and accommodation. Unlike most other places we passed through, it was not dominated by a church.  The historical link to the early pilgrims seemed tenuous.

Valtuille to La Portela - disaster management (Oct 1)

We were packing to leave in the morning when I discovered that my wallet was missing. I could have left it at the village bar when I was paying for the previous night's dinner or it could have fallen out on the way back, a distance of a couple of hundred metres. The bar had opened in the morning but the owner said he did not have it and we checked the path we took with no success. If it was dropped, it would have been picked up by any passer by. Contained in it were some cash, credit cards and a travel card specific for foreign currency withdrawals. Fortunately we had made sure we carried only our own credit cards and we have a second travel card. The landlady was helpful and quickly prepared a report for the police with our contact numbers in case it was found, but we held no hope for that.

We finally left Valtuille after 930am and at the next town Villafranca (yes another one of tbe same name as one we came across some weeks ago) 5 km away, thankfully  a large one, I was able to locate an internet cafe where I found contact information for the banks, deactivated the travel card. 

Villafranca #2

Then we were on our way again, on a route that followed the main road N6 and the new expressway A6, through villages with timber mills (oak, chestnut and pine trees galore). There was enough chestnuts on the ground for a roasted chestnut hawker to do a roaring business.

As the roads had been realigned following the guide maps was difficult but we eventually arrived at La Portela, our night stop.We stayed at a private albergue at La Portela. It was a truckstop but the reasonably decent looking hotel across the road did not want to serve us meals even though we were there in the advertised hour. Too early, the staff said. The albergue was very friendly and the manager, son-in-law of the owner, was most helpful in getting us booked into a place at the next stop in O Cebreiro. Most useful when our mobile phones did not work properly, which happened quite often in remote villages.

Ponferrada to Valtuille de Ariba (Sep 30)

Leaving the urban area of Ponferrada we first passed through small market gardens but but beyond the village of Fuente Nuevas where we stopped for a break, it became vineyard country again. It was Sunday and many vineyards were harvesting. Groups of itinerent workers were picking and carrying basket loads onto the back of trucks. The owner or supervisors handed out large bunches of grapes to us passsing walkers and wished us 'buen Camino'. He must be in a particularly good mood at harvest time, certainly quite a contrast to the reception the night before. Earlier at Fuente Nurevas  a villager handed out freshly picked peaches. It was a fruitful morning indeed.

At Fuente Nuevas we met up again with the NZ couple we had come across several times, first at Rabanal, then again at Ponferrada where we had dinner together.. We often make such short acquaintances with pilgrims walking roughly the same speed.

The day started cool but it warmed up rapidly and we were glad to take a break at the town of Cacabelos. The sign outside a crowded bar restaurant declared Pulperia Compostella. Of course we were nearing Galicia province and the Galician specialty pulpo or octopus was making its appearance. It was Sunday, and the restaurant was crowded with churchgoers and we were lucky to find a table, and most were ordering the pulpo sprinkled with bright red paprika. I could not wait for Galicia to taste the pulpo and had one serving all to myself because K could hardly bear the sight of tbe chopped tentacles let alone eat them!

Pulpo for lunch.

 We contined through vineyards and stopped for the night at a casa rurale, in the tiny hamlet of Valtuille de Arriba. Like many such places we have been through the B&B was a nicely and quite newly renovated stone house. The owner was a very friendly (and entreprising) teacher of French af a nearby school.
For dinner we walked a few hundred metres to the only bar in the quiet hamlet, which must serve mainly by itinerant fruit pickers. By the time we got there, the bar was quiet and the only other customer were an Irish couple peregrinos staying at the same casa rurale.

Acebo to Ponferrada (Sep 29)

Acebo was only half way down the mountain range and after the previous day's experience we reassesed our management of the descent. We were not the only walkers feeling the stresses. A woman from Melbourne staying at the same hostal had a fall and another was nursing her injured knee at the bar. Expecting that the track down would be covered the same way with large loose stones, we decided to follow the asphalt road instead even though this was generally not recommended because the distance was greater and there were risks from passing traffic.

Nonetheless, we followed the LE241 that wound its way though the mountain valleys, carefully keeping to the narrow paths one side or the other, all the time with steep mountain face on one and deep valley on the other. Following the road we passed high above Riego de Ambros, a village in which all houses seemed to have a new slate roof. The view was breathtaking so was the thrill when cars come around the bend towards us. Fortunately it was a quiet road on a quiet Saturday.

Village of Riego de Ambros.

At the pretty town of Molinaseca we still had 8 km to go to reach our stopover town of Ponferrada where we also wanted to a walk around the well known Knight Templer medieval castle there. Something had to give, the walking did.

Medieval castle at Ponferrada.

Ponferrada did not have the same warm feeling as most other places we visited. Many walls around the old city was defaced with grafitis and the castle though massive, was no more impressive than others in Britain and Europe.

Perhaps worst of all the restaurant waiters at the main plaza were unfriendly even though the tapas dishes we had were among the best so far. We were told curtly by the waiter to speak Spainish even though the menu had an English version; we were supposed to look at the corresponding items in Spanish and order them that way. Fortunately by then, more than four weeks in the country, K had quite a repertoir in the language for ordering food and was able to revert promptly. If the waiter was impressed he did not show it!

Rabanal to Acebo via Cruz Ferro (Sep 28)

Leaving Rabanal we climbed gradually and after about 6 km we rested at a small mountain village of Foncebadon. We kept looking towards the top of the ridge for tbe Cruz de Ferro, the Iron Cross. Another  2 km on we finally came to it, a surprisingly small cross set ln top of a tall pole marking the highest elevation point of the entire Camino route, standing more than 1300m above sea level..

Many brought stones and other memorabilia from home to be placed on the base of the Cross. From us we placed a small local stone that K wrapped with a small piece of fabric that Yvonne used to wear. It was an emotional moment for us as the loss of Yvonne had so much contributed to our decision to make this journey.

Leaving the Cruz de Ferro we began the descent. There was nothing much in the 9km to El Acebo stop for tbe night apart from Manjarin, an abandoned village  populated by just one man (and a couple of cats at least) who ran a primitively constructed refuge and provided simple food and drinks on "donativo" (donation). Simple, but the shelter received mention in most guide books.

Manjarin with a population of one.

The steep descent was very difficult, made worse by the large loose stones tbat covered tbe track. Soon our knees and ankles were hurting, so at an opportunity a few kilometres from Acebo we switched to walking on an asphalt road that wound down the mountain at a more gentle slope for road traffic. Easier on the feet, not necessarily safer.

Acebo, a revived village of stone houses, is now a pilgrim village that has numerous accommodation and a bar restaurant tbat served more than the usual basic sandwiches and tapas. We had an enjoyable dinner sharing a local dish of sausages and pork leg stewed with paprika and chickpeas.

Astorga to Rabanal del Camino (Sep 27)

It was good to finally leave the highway after Astorga and even better that our long walking day (for us that is anything more 20km) coincided with cool morning. There were several reasons for the more pleasant weather; we were another month towards the cooler period of the year, but at the same time we were gradually ascending to higher altitude.. We passed several small villages and just as it got warm in the middle of the day we headed into yet another oak forest.

Our next destination for the night Rabanal del Camino was surprisingly interesting. We were desperate for a cup of tea and so we were immediately attracted to a new, professional prepared sign proclaiming a taverna with "Italian cuisine" in English. We ordered tea and was suprised to  be served with an empty teapot containing a tea bag, a jug of hot milk and no water. And the tea was green tea. We should know better to order tea in a country better known for coffee! We did not return to the bar for another drink not just for that reason alone but the village was built on a steeply sloping land and our hostal was right on the top of the hill. We did not want to have to repeat the climb again.

We were also surprised to find that tbe restaurant at our accommodation not only stay open at our hours but actually received mention in the Michelin guide. The fish and seafood soup in the "menu del diaz" was remarkable as was the stew.

After dinner we attended part of the vesper run each night by the local Bendictine monks for pilgrims; the Latin service was supplemented by readings in a number of languages by pilgrims from a number of countries. We were not present for it but the monks also bless stones that some pilgrims carry to be placed at the Cruz de Ferro, the iron cross on the highest elevation point of the entire Camino now just half a day's  walk away.

Astorga (Sep 26)

Villadangos was one of half a dozen or so small communities that lined the original Camino route in parrallel with the busy main highway N120 between Leon and Astorga, which was why some walkers choose to use a longer alternate and more scenic route of recent creation. We chose to get over this uninteresting stretch by busing down the highway some 14 km to Hospital de Orbigo where I made my way back on the Camino track and Kay continued on to Astorga.

Oak trees and acorns.

I had some trouble finding my way to the Camino initially and ended up walking along the busy road for some distance with cars zooming past me at 80 km/h or more. I was about to turn back when a truck driver kindly indicated to me to carry on as I was indeed on the right track. Eventually I was able to join the alternate route that veered away from the highway, past a quiet village and then over a couple of hills and through an oak forest. From a lookout I was able to see Astorga and beyond that the ridge we would have to ascend in the next few days.

Astorga is a very attractive touristy town that has not just a cathedral but also a Gaudi designed mansion to its name. It prides itself to a range of local specialties in confectionary and for that reason has a large number of chocolatiers. Busloads of tourists descend on the town each day, described disparagingly by some as tourigrinos, tourist visting the Camino sights by buses. Of course whoever we are we have impacts on the community, both positive and negative.

Now in a more touristy place, we have found that more English were spoken by the storekeepers and more shops were open during the afternoon. Happily for us, we were able to find a restaurant that was open all day!

Town square at Astorga.

Leon to Villadangos (Sep 25)

When I referred to Leon's wide streets and pavements, it was that of the new town.  Behind the main thoroughfare of the old town where our Hotel Paris was located was a maze of winding narrow streets of shops, restaurants and bars that come alive after sunset.

Ahead of Leon, the distances between places to stay were such that we had to choose between a long day of walking or two short days. The change in the weather helped us make the decsion. Short days would allow us to cope better with the anticipated wet day, and especially the climb ahead since we had come to the end of the meseta.

Right on cue light rain began falling as we made our way out of Leon by following the yellow arrow signs painted onto pavements, drainpipes and sometimes smack in the middle of grafittis.

We made two stops at bars to dry off over cups of tea. Beyond the outer suburb of Virgen del Camino, without the shelter of the urban buildings we were soon exposed to very strong winds and driving rain. Our Gortex jackets did not protect fully and by the time we got to San Miguel we were cold and damp.

Storks' nests on church.

We had done more 10 km and our destination was only the next village but with the difficult weather we decided to catch the bus. Fortunately the main road followed the Camino route and we were able to find a bus stop quite easily.

It was a bit of a comedy when the bus arrived because we told the driver our destination was Villadangos when in fact our accommodation was 2 km before the village in a new largely industrial  neighbourhood. We rushed to alight when we spotted it, over the protest of the driver who was yelling to us that it was not our stop.

Our hostal was basic, located above a bar with little around just a petrol station next door and another pub 500m away. We had gone from the 3-star Hotel Paris in Leon to a truckstop! Still, it was clean, had good hot water and free wifi to the room, a friendly bar tender and a pretty stamp for our credentials. All we ever needed as pilgrims..

Leon (Sep 24, Day 25)

A cold and windy morning in Leon and our clean and unused warm clothings were out for the first time for weeks.

Leon was a pretty city in the bright crispy morning with its wide streets and pavements. We spent some time at the main Cathedral, a massive gothic structure that invites comparison with one in Charters in France and of course the rival city Burgos.  We could see why some purists think that Leon's was more of a place of worship while Bugos' was more a museum.

We walked several blocks to the Paradors hotel made famous by the comment of Jack of Ireland in the movie "The Way", that no self respecting pilgrim would stay in it. We didn't but we did have a capuccino each and shared a serving of ice cream. A lovely hotel created out of an old monastery that could inspire the comment: why was a monastery so grand?

Burgo Raneros to Mansila de las Mulas then Leon (Sep 23, Day 24)

We left Burgo Raneros in the morning under an heavily overcast sky and gusty winds. After our complaints over the past weeks about tbe heat we could only be thankful about the change in the weather; indeed the cool air and good walking surface allowed us to make good progress. We were still at the meseta but the landscape we were passing through had changed, with more trees and undulating fields.

Rain at last.

There also seemed to be better facilities with rest areas every few kilometres complete with large skips for the rubbish not seen in provinces earlier. These may in the long term reduce the littering problem that spoils the route so much. There was still no public toilets around even in villages (we were totally dependent on pubs) and bushes out in the open fields invariably show evidence of previous visits!

Soon the wind became gustier and horizontal rain started to come down but luckily we were only a few hundred metres from our first rest stop of the day, having done more than 13 km.

After our rest we did another 6 km to Mansila. Our reputable English guide by John Brierley suggested that we should take a bus from Mansila to the major city of Leon without losing too much. As K said, we did not have to be told twice to skip a small uninteresting section (given the distance we had to cover in total). We headed for the autobus station only to find that being Sunday the next bus for Leon won't be due for another 5 hours.

We could stay at the cafeteria and watch the Singapore GP (yes, it was on live at the cafe too) but we were tired and a decision was quickly made to get into Leon by taxi. Twenty euros for the last 18km was a bargain.

Sahagun to El Burgo Ranero (Sep 22 day 23)

Five kilometres out of Sahagun the Camino offered two alternatives, one through a village to an old Roman road that was uneven and exposed to the elements, the other a shorter and on tree-lined "senda" (compacted sandy earth), which was easier to walk on. We took the easier route, as did most pilgrims, but someone, a villager perhaps, must have been dissatisfied with losing business from pilgrims taking the more comfortable path, had the signs defaced, diverting pilgrims to the village (and the tougher route) unless they were particularly careful in reading the maps. We stopped with a group of others and there was a lengthy pause but we eventually found our preferred way.

A cool breeze was  blowing and the line of trees on the southern side provided good shade; the day was perfect for walking. We made good time and we were were still glad to arrive at El Burgo Ranero because we were hungry (as we always were after a few hours walk). Already from the distance we had spotted a cafe bar because of the telltale red Coca Cola sign, the brand that dominated the Spanish soft drink market. Into the cafe bar we were met by the bar tender totally engrossed on the large flat screen TV - showing a live telecast of the Singapore Grand Prix. We sat down for a simple lunch, entertained by cars racing amidst the familiar Singapore skyline!

Carrion to Sahagun (Sep 21 Day 22)

We found out that the bus for Sahagun leaves at midday, which gave us a bit of time to roam around the town. I finally found a tobacconist to recharge my prepaid phone account, and later discovered that the post office did it as well. The post office provides a valuable service in sending extra items that could not be carried to an address or even a post office the final destination. Of course finding one that was not shut for siesta remained the perennial challenge.

The journey to Leon took an hour for the 40km journey in a nondirect route through towns  not on tbe Camino route. With that mechanical propulsion today we were now only a few km short of our halfway point to the final destination of Santiago de Compostela.

Our bus left us at the first hotel in Sahagun, that happened to be the town's finest but that was not where we were staying. Instead, we had to walk into the town and spent some time trying to locate ours through a rather inaccurate guidebook map. We eventually did find it, a small hostal with very comfortable room right on the Camino route.

While nearly all towns and villages we passed through were dominated by one or more churches, always visible for kilometres around and nearly all visibly restored, Sahagun seemed to be dominated by the ruins of one that fell apart through tbe tribulations of war and lack of religious interests. This last point was a surprise to us given the ever presence of the Catholic church. Indeed we have not observed much religious preoccupations by the peregrinos on the trip so far even though it is nominally a pilgrimage. About half the participants were not Spanish, and most seemed more concerned with clocking up their 30+ km a day than to waste time on sceneries let alone the inside of churches.

As most villages and towns we passed had been impressively clean and tidy, the less tidy ones stood out - like Sahagun. The town square where we had dinner al fresco was alive with noisy children but the atmosphere was more degraded by the unswept kerbs and footpaths. My BBQ sepia (cuttlefish) was good but K steak was tough.

Carrion - what a name (Sep 20, Day 21)

After all the stuff we read about the meseta, we have been wondering when we would encounter the endless flat terrain after nearly a month of hills and valleys. We finally hit it on the straight stretch from Fromista to Carrion. The path ran parrallel to the motor road, the land flat and treeless on both sides, merciless in the piecing sun, the clouds having deserted us once again.

Along the 18 km route there were only a couple of small villages, the first of which had a bar with an open door but they refused to serve us any coffee even though it was already nearly 9am. At the second stop, an albergue had a good informal cafe that served food. When we mentioned about the previous village, the lady kindly told us that she was working for 9 months a year and would take 3 months off each year. So, we need to understand!  With our cultural bias, we could not help but wonder what Angela Merkel thought of that comfortable lifestyle.

Carrion (where did they get that name? Rob asked) was a sizeable town with a busy town square, lots of tourists and pilgrims, but we had trouble finding somewhere to recharge my prepaid mobile phone, the one with the Spanish SIM card. Everywhere I inquired I was directed to the one shop that had trouble getting their computer to connect to the provider.

We located a supermercado (supermarket) where we stocked up with some food for the long walk the next day, only to find that we could not be assured of any accommodaton at the next destination, a very small place with limited places some 18km away. If we were to take the risk and proceed regardlessly, we could be faced with another 5km to the next town/village, an undertaking we are still unprepared to take, given the ongoing hot spell. A bus ride to the town beyond was the only solution.

Fromista (Sep 19, Day 20)

We enjoyed a sleep in at the hostal of Itero and did not leave till well past 8 in the morning.  Our first stop was 8km away at Boadilla where once again it was a question of knowing where things were.  Luckily we ran into the Danish people whom we met the previous night and they introduced us to a cafe they just came out of, one attached to an albergue several metres from the main Camino route, one without any signage to its existence.   The guy in charge of the cafe was friendly, spoke good English and best of all the ham and eggs was supreme.It was one of those well kept secrets of Spanish villages.

The route to the next day stop Fromista was made more attractive by the shade of a line of trees and the old canal that followed it on the other side most of the way. The canal system was being restored for recreation and irrigation purposes and at the entrance to Fromista there was a series of locks that allowed navigation upstream. In fact most of the surrounding land was several metres below the canal water level.

The attraction of Fromista was a Romanesque church. Hope to post it when the internet services allow!

Romanesque church at Fromista.

Itero de la Vega (Sep 18, Day 19)

We left Hontanas before sunrise guided by the light of a torch once more until there was enough light in the sky. We had to climb tbe gradual slope out of the depression that Hontanas was in (pun not intended) in darkness but it was bright well before we got to the ruins of San Anton, the next village.  The heavy cloud cover made it a warm in the morning and also mild for most of the day. 

We were looking forward to Castrojeriz (probably pronounced "Castro - her ith" ?) because we needed an ATM to replenish our cash and the usual proper cup of coffee that albergues often did not provide. When we came to a crowded bar at the entrance to the town we pushed on knowing that the town centre was another one km further.  To our frustration, we found ourselves at the other end of town without  finding any real life. We later discovered that most of the shops were on another street and no one had bothered to put up any signs to attract customers. No wonder a guidebook described the town as being in perpetual siesta. 

We had morning tea by the side of the road and skipped lunch, tackled the Alto, a rare steep hill on the plateau, like a pimple on the flat land. Right at the top was a 360 deg view of the meseta and there was - yes nothing, apart a shelter generously defaced with wise cracks by peregrinos. In most places around the world there would be a kiosk serving food and coffee but of course this was Spain!

Walking towards Castrojeriz.

The 18% slope desent was steeper than the ascent and we watched with some concern as cyclists did it with courage and perhaps not much brains. Down at the bottom, we it were back on the meseta proper, a mosaic of grain fields all in harvested shades of golden yellow and brown broken by patcbes of black where dried sunflowers stood perhaps awaiting harvesting.

The sun had reappeared from behind the clouds and the 4 km to the shade of the next tree from the hill was arduous. When we came to it, there were a couple of locals behind a stall with some fruits on display and a thermos flask that contained coffee that K was desperately seeking. How much for the coffee? Just a donation. We admired their entreprise but it had not got to the profit motive stage. On the other hand, it might just be a way of evading stringent EU regulations. If only we had the Spanish to find out more.

The day's destination was Itero del Vega but just before it we passed by the albergue of St Nicolas a serious refugio with only 12 places for the hardcore that many had talked about. It had the long history of monks providing medical and other care to pilgrims on the Camino. Today the refugio retains the simplicity of the olden days by the absence of electricity as the place is lit only by candlelight.  We wondered what the monks thought of the young ladies in bras and knickers having a wash publicly outside the small building!  Not wanting to do without electricity, we pushed on another 1 km to Itero and stayed in a place where I could have my mobile phone recharged.

St Nicolas outside Itero.

Rabe to Hontanas (the place to avoid?) (Sep 17, Day 18)

From outside Burgos we should be going onto the meseta, the flat plateau that stretches to beyond Leon over a distance of more than 200km. But there were a few low hills to go over on leaving Rabe, practically treeless hills with stony paths. There was a small village stop and an even smaller albergue stop (San Bol, where there was nothing else apart from the one building and a row of trees, for those desparately enough to need one).  Eventually we found our way to Hontanas. The village roused our curiosity because an Aussie couple we met earlier on told us that it should be avoided. Interestingly while most old villages seeme to sit on a hill, Hontanas sat in a valley depression. It entirely depended on pilgrim business to survive.

Come to think of it, the same point 3 can be said about many small villages we passed through. Many had houses in ruins because until recently they were abandoned and were enjoying a revival from the pilgrimage industry.

Nonetheless, the albergue we stayed in was well run and provided the most value for money room and dinner that we had come across so far. Over dinner, we were also thoughtfully placed with another English speaking couple, a brother and sister from Ireland.

Hontanas, to be recommended we think !

Burgos rest day (Sep 15, Day 16)

We had not previously thougbt too much about Burgos apart from the possibility of having our backpack snatched by a kid as in the movie "The Way". The first impression of the city as we got off the bus was immediately favourable. The streets were neat, wide and the tree-limed wide pedestrian mall along the river most inviting. The lanes in the old town linked a series of plazas where in the after-siesta hours the residents gathered in large numbers. No better city to spend an extra day for rest.

The massive cathedral of Burgos magnificient from the outisde was also a beautifully maintained museum of the royal and religious powers in the history of the city. It was more a museum than a place of worsbip that led some to comment rather disparagingly. To us with limited interests in its religious or historical significance, it was simply most pleasing to the eye inside and outside.

While there were no backpack snatchers we did run into an ATM glitch when our  cash withdrawal trasaction went through but no cash appeared. We  had to make a couple of calls and were promised that our account would be corrected in a few days, our fingers were crossed.

Our day at Burgos was a Saturday and it was good that siesta was not so strictly adhered to by people who were NOT working. The shops stayed open for them and us, and the plazas were full of life. We enjoyed a good al fresco lunch of pasta (grab it while we could, as every small town bar has nothing much beyond basic Castillian cuisime of spanish ham, tortilla and bread).

We stocked up on medical supplies, caught up on the internet and then enjoyed the luxury of our four-star hotel !

Rabe, a¨"quiet" small town (Sep 17, Day 18)

At Burgos we failed to find any medical centre that was willing to open on a saturday to take another look at K´s blisters but fortunately they looked well enough in our non-expert eyes and we felt confident to push on early on Sunday morning before first light. (I´m sure the hospital is open but after the previous experience at Logrono we decided to give it a miss and depend on the private ones).

Underutilised freeway?

.
We found our way out of  Burgos passed the university of Burgos but there was no sign of the city gate that was included in the Emilio Estavez movie {"The Way"}. The route led us in a circuitous path around a new freeway system, one that was so new that there were virtually no cars on it. Sign post distances were again questionable but we eventually reached the morning  coffee stop at Tarhajos.

We chose to stay the night at an albergue in the tiny village of Rabe expecting to be practically the only ones there especially when it was only 13 km from Burgos and we arrived there before lunch but we were in for a surprise - there was a queue outzide. The albergue was managed by an efficient manageress who seemed to be the owner.  We ended up in a communal room of six persons, one of whom coughing vigorously much to our concern.

Rabe was not so quiet. We were lucky or unlucky to be there for their one-day-of-the-year festival. At lunch time the local dancing guild performed traditional Spanish dancers in costumes in the village square, right outside the albergue. Later singers performed more modern songs on stage. With the large speakers right outside our window, I was lucky to have brought along ear plugs and enjoyed a good night's sleep. Still it was good to be in the right place at the right time.

Street dancing at Rabe.

As usual, the village pub did not serve hot food even though there was a large post-church crowd and a special vintage car show (3 cars including a Cardillac), but it was good to be able to meet up with other pilgrims when we were just having coffee. There was an interesting Canadian man from Quebec and later, surprise surprise, we found an Aussie couple from Canberra working for the foreign service in Madrid.

Ages to Burgos (Sep 14)

A major plus of staying in an albergue is that it brings us into the company of a community of shared interests. In the afternoon of arrival we met up with a Spanish couple from Barcelona and we were able to listen totheir comments on the recent demomstration in their city for thr independence of Catalonia. At dinner time K had fun using her French with a couple from the French Basque country.

The albergue at Ages (pronounced "Arg As" ,we wete told ) confirmed the advcie given to us that we should avoid the  breakfast offered in such places. We were the last to turn up because I slept in till 730 and though it was still within the designated bours, there was only cold coffee, no butter and only one small sachet of jam left - all for 3 euros for each of us. Worse, there was no one there to complain, for it seemed the private owner simply set up the self service breakfast early in the morning and left. Most of the pilgrims got up very early to start a long walking day.  Fortumately for us, the next village of Atapuerta was less than 2 km away and it had a shop serving proper food.

What Kay thinks of the albergue at Ages.

Beyond Atapuerta we climbed a rocky hill at the top of which we could see the city of  Burgos to the west.   But it was so near yet  so far, for the route soon veered south when we descendsd the hill and had to walk through 3 small villages none of which showed much life apart the last that had a pub. Our friend Sue L once said that Sydney was dead (compared to London), well she aint' seen nothing.

After a short lunch break, we followed the route past the boundary fence of Burgos airport to the outermost Burgos suburb of Villefria. We did not think that the 7 km along a main trunk road not unlike Sydney´s Parramatta Road was quite spiritual, so we took the bus to the centre of Burgos.  Not surprisingly, there were more than half a dozen other pilgrims in the bus with us.

Ages (Sep 13)

By the time we got to Villafranca, we were starting to look forward to Burgos one of the four large cities on our route, but we had another ridge to cross that according to the maps, was made up of a series of three forested hills. Leaving the the very comfortable Villafranca hotel, the Camino was literary on its back door and from there it was straight up the hill. It was a steep climb but the weather has mercifully turned cool and the sky heavily overcast.

It was interesting that we had entered for the first time a totally natural environment, a forest of oak trees and later pine plantation.  For someone who had never seen more than two oak trees side by side, a whole forest of it was a treat.

Oak forest after Villafranca.

It took an hour to reach the top of the first hil where there was a memorial to a massacre that happened there during the 1936 Civil War in Spain. It was a sad reminder to Spain´s traumatic past.

The second hill was less pronounced, the third practically non existent. We walked into the small hamlet village of St Juan in light rain, grateful to find shelter in the one and only pub even though the less than enterprising owner only served coffee, beer and biscuits. We wondered why he was not more entreprising, notwithstanding there was nothing in the 12 km from Villafranca and every single pilgrim had to pass through it!

To save our legs we had arranged for part of our luggage to be transport to St Juan, but since we felt rather energetic, we picked up the load and walked on to the next town.  Beyond St Juan, the forests made way to open fields again all the way to the village of Ages.

There were a number of places for pilgrims at Ages, we randomly chose one and shared in a 8-bed room. It was rather crowded but the facilities were satisfactory and we enjoyed the hot shower. 

Villafranca (Sep 11 and 12)

Today's experience was a good lesson about planning and the necessity to stick to it. Leaving Redecilla we had 25 km ahead of us before hitting higher grounds where there were several hills to cross. Not being young seasoned walkers we planned to break that up into two days with a stop at the interesting town of Belorado being most logical .


However as we started very early and we arrived at Belorado around 10am.  After a coffee break at the entrance of the town, we succombed to the temptation of walking to the next village Tosantos, omly to find that the weather had become uncomrtably hot especially for K and also on arriving that the only accommodation was one that provided 30 mattresses on the floor.  A true pilgrim would not have minded, and we wouldn´t either if we had planned for it, but it was somewhat a disappointment. The next two villages were tiny as well, so at that point K chose to bus to the next big town Villafranca still 7 km away, while I walked on.  The day was hot but the scenery of gentle rolling hills of dry largely scrub land was beautiful.

View from our accommodation at Villafranca.

It was not a satisfactory situation especially when K was also nursing a couple of blisters, so we decided to take a rest day at Villafranca, especially when the hotel albergue we were at was very comfortable. We were glad that they had a room at the albergue for us for two nights.

We used the free day to bus back to Belorado, the interesting town that we shot past the day before; the bus ride took a grand total of just 15minutes.  K took the opportunity to visit the local medical centre and was relieved that the nurse there was satisfied with the condition of the blisters..

Most interestingly, the owner of the hotel was a retired doctor and he had taken it upon himself to take care of passing pilgrims in strife, having done the Camino himself! In fact he insisted of looking at K´s blisters and pronounced it quite satisfactory from his medical viewpoint.

Ciruena to Redecilla (Sep 10) Day 11

We left at daybreak again, and soon after the next small hill we could see the next town, Santo Domingo, famous for its cathedral with two chickens!  The legend is too long to be repeated here but it was interesting to see that it is kept alive with two live roosters in a special glassed in cage within the church. Apart from that, the story of Santo Domingo, as someone from way back who helped pilgrims by building a bridge to save some walking, and whose remains are in the church, made the place an attraction.

The cloudy sky was an early relief but the clouds soon gave way to more heat as we walked through bare hills and crossed the border into Castillo y Leon. We had enough when we arrived at the first village into the new region, Redecilla, and stayed at a new place, another Casa Rurale, a place so new that it was not even in the guidebooks. It should do well as it served meals at seemingly all hours.  We were given an attic room, this one had a sky light was gave us a direct view of the church bell tower, a pretty aspect except that the church chose to keep the hourly bell chimes right through the day and NIGHT!

Country near Redecilla.

Najera to Ciruena (9 to 10 Sep)

At Najera, we inadvertenly picked a Jewish owned albergue to stay on a saturday, their Sabbath!  At least I think it was Jewish owned because of the Star of David on its stamp on our pilgrims credentials and the restaurant assciated with it was closed that evening. It also meant that there was no one around at the albergue when we wanted to seek advice on the huge blister that had developed on K's foot, at a time when all the town's pharmacists were also shut.  Luckily we had read up before we left and so we followed our limited knowledge and perhaps intuitions!

Najera is situated on a narrow strip of land bounded by a river and a hill with a rocky surface that reminded me of  Castle Hill in Townsville. The town square was all set up with a stage and soon it became obvious that a festival was on. When the music started around 9pm we could not resist going back to the square to join the crowd. The celebrations started half an hour later and over the next hour there was an elaborate introduction of the celebrities getting on to the stage including the MC, a festival queen of some sort and a male high achiever from the previous year, as well as the corresponding winners for the current year. Each had to be given a fanfare by the band, then a long introduction, escorted onto the stage by a member of the opposite sex, given a couple of kisses and receive flowers from two young children, and more kisses.  The crowd obviously enjoyed it. Like quite a few others, we left when the male VIP started to speak, fun was over.

Again we left at first light after breakfast the next day. The vineyards soon gave way to bare harvested wheatland as we got higher. The day got hotter and became  most uncomfortable for us, especially with the constant climb uphill. It was a relief when we finally got to the top around midday, to be met by a sight we only read about, a deserted golf course and seemingly dead suburb of new houses - the debris of the building bubble crash of recent years.  It was the new suburb of the village of Ciruena, that had street after street of terrace houses and apartments, all new and mostly empty and many had "se vende" (for sale) signs.  We went closer into the village's old centre of much older houses and found where there was life  - the pub where people had gathered after church, for it was a Sunday.

We chose to stay at a place across the road from the pub and the local church, called Casa Victoria, our first experience of a casa rurale. It that turned out that a casa rurale was just like a B and B, and Casa Victoria was run efficiently by a friendly couple. The biggest surprise was that the house was renovated from a very old building and the attic room had been renovated to include an ensuite but retained the original exposed natural tree trunks rafters, similar to those we saw in England.