2MoreMiles…

Day 16 (35 KM)
Burgos – Hontanas

Up early (no surprise) we sneak out of our room careful not to wake Sue and Jerry…fully.  We walk in the darkness of a sleeping Burgos.  Saturdaynight must have been something as revelers can still be seen straggling home.  This is the only time I have ever felt uncomfortable in these cities.  Maybe it has to do with my past life, still a little wary of things that wander aimlessly about during hours one should be sleeping. (We of course don’t count). Finding the yellow blazes/arrows and Camino signs in the dark is a cross between an Easter egg hunt and the picture game “Where’s Waldo”.  Takes some creativity and determination.  We fumbled our way out of town and eventually landed on ” natural tread” as they call anything but asphalt or cement.  We walk through open space that leads to farmland and wheat fields.  Upon first glance the tread appeared to be gravelly, however closer inspection revealed the “gravel” to be grains of wheat thickly scattered about the path left over from an earlier harvest.

As we walked in the early morning light, steam rose from the close cut wheat fields giving our walk a somber yet peaceful setting.  From behind we hear a familiar voice.  “Hey guys”, it’s Melie.  Seems she decided to get an early start as well.  We walk and talk as the morning sky brightens.  Our first stop is at a small village with an open bar in which to get our morning café con leche, and who should appear, but Sherrie (actually her name is Cherena, just didn’t pick it up on account of her bloody accent).

We thought she’d have been days ahead of us and we’d be lucky to ever catch her.  Turns out she’s been “stalking” us via my blog and has been trying to figure out where we were.  Seems she had to spend a couple extra days in Burgos due to an unexplained illness which resulted in a fall from the top bunk.  The medical authorities “treated” the fall (bruised knees) but had no answer for what made her ill enough to faint off the bunk in the first place.  So up she walks (with Kerrie, a male bloke, from Oz as well) as we sit slurping our café con leches.  A joyous reunion ensues and stories flow like wine.  This time we exchange numbers and she tells us she may have secured a job Spain…English speaking one that is.  Paul asks her if she’s going to try and speak in an American accent so they learn “proper” English.  She laughs.  She is unsure if she will be able to finish the Camino as they are to call any day now about the employment.  Before we head back out, I tape up her knee again, as this is to be her first day back out walking after 3 days and a nasty fall.  We walk and talk a bit, and then she carries on ahead.  We come to a small village, and stop to rest our feet and have a bite to eat.  Melie had gone on ahead from our breakfast stop and was to stay in this town, where we didn’t know, but once again fortune smile upon us and she walks into the last eatery (bar) at the end of “town”we have ducked into. (And this was after we had walked to the end of town and back again…looking for a place to stop).  Timing is everything.  We dine together, and it’s hot so it is time to change from dark long pants to shorts.  Melie invites me to use her room at her albergue that avoid changing in the cramped quarter of the establishment’s WC.  The place is awesome and she almost talks me into talking Paul into stopping here.  The draw to stop gets even stronger when I run into Cherena one more time on the patio outside Melie’s albergue.  Nope, keep to the plan.  Stupid plan.  Should have stopped.  Good people is good company, and often that is hard to find.  Not to worry, we are still in contact, and more good people have graced us with their presence, and even some odd ducks as well.  Thus we carry on.

Long expanses of rolling fields that once were covered in rolling amber waves of grain stretch nearly as far as the eye can see.  Stacks of harshly shaped sun bleached rocks frame the fields and lie like burial mounds.  Remnants of sparse dwellings housing ancient civilizations peek above the rich soil bearing testament that the path we walk is nothing new.

All at once the road dips and reveals a town hidden from view by the mesetas (plateaus), Hontanas.  Here we will spend the night.  We wander into town, and end up finding an albergue that only charges 5€.  Their marketing worked as well (they placed cement benches about 2k out of town with their name on it) as we were somehow drawn past two other albergues and ended up at this one.  Two large cervesas later, a conversation with a card carrying communist (who by the way made his money…way more than us…working for a large corporation and then gifted his vast earnings to his children so the government couldn’t have it, and had enough left over to travel the world) who pompously asked us what we thought about “gun control”, and “don’t you have enough guns” (NEVER),  and thankfully the church bells began to ring (loudly)…for 10 minutes, which we took as a sign that we should go to mass (it was Sunday).

This church was in stark contradiction to the last few we have been in.  It’s interior was bright white stucco with small stations of the cross and simple wooden benches.  The church was filled with a handful of peregrinos and local town folk.  This priest said mass with such great efficiency (to include a peregrino blessing in-between) it was over in 25 minutes, timed perfectly with peregrino dinner time.  Seeing that this place (to us) is a no frills place and pretty much in the middle of nowhere, we wondered what the priest thought when he got assigned here.  Was he once a young priest full of vigor thinking he was going to go out and preach the word of God to exotic cultures and the far reaches of the world?  What did he think when he got assigned here?  Did he ask to be assigned here?  How long has he been here? Does he realize he has the privilege of preaching to people from all over the world, just based on this Church’s location?  Or is it a “been there, done that”, here’s my peregrino homily (that he says every week), now go eat dinner and get up and walk tomorrow.  ‘Figure it out people.  What I say here is not the point.  What you do with it is.’ Maybe, it was short, so we’d have this discussion.

Buen Camino!
Be Strong!  Austin Strong!

Day 14 (25 k)
Agés – Burgos

Frankly I can’t remember crap from this day (visually), with the exception of seeing a fox (the furry animal type) and walking and talking with Melie all the way into Burgos.

We were so engrossed in conversation that we completely missed our turn for the river route and walked the original trade route through the commercial outskirts of town and along side bustling cars and work vans scurrying about in the middle of the afternoon.  Going from quiet rolling countryside that oozes calm in every way and then confronted with blanched concrete and mechanical noises finally broke our “trance” of conversation.  Seems there was a definite reason for us to walk and talk with each other.  God’s plan is surely a tricky one sometimes.  Our plan on the other hand, having missed the river walk, was to greet Paul, Sue and Jerry at the apex of the river and the entrance to the city of Burgos with a beer or two.  Ah, you know what they say about beat laid plans…we had no idea where the river route came out.

So plan “B”.

I go with Melie as she checks into her hotel (El Cid). She has an awesome view of the Burgos Cathedral.  After a bit of effort and some texting I leave Melie at a bar, promising to be right back finally meet up with the gang at our hotel.  After a much needed nap (sorry Melie) and a shower we head out to see the sights.  Before I had left Melie at her hotel arrangements had been made to get together with several other peregrinos we have been “running” with for Birthday celebrations.

We meet them for Tapas and Sangria, which was more like a “Burgos” Ice Tea.

The evening ended with hot chocolate (rich hot pudding in a cup) and churros.

Sleep came easy…even with the sugar.
Tomorrow we stay another night and play tourist with Sue and Jerry.

Buen Camino
Be Strong! Austin Strong!

Burgos
0 KM

Up early (no surprise) we sneak out of our room careful not to wake Sue and Jerry…fully.  We walk in the darkness of a sleeping Burgos.  Saturdaynight must have been something as revelers can still be seen straggling home.  This is the only time I have ever felt uncomfortable in these cities.  Maybe it has to do with my past life, still a little wary of things that wander aimlessly about during hours one should be sleeping. (We of course don’t count). Finding the yellow blazes/arrows and Camino signs in the dark is a cross between an Easter egg hunt and the picture game “Where’s Waldo”.  Takes some creativity and determination.  We fumbled our way out of town and eventually landed on ” natural tread” as they call anything but asphalt or cement.  We walk through open space that leads to farmland and wheat fields.  Upon first glance the tread appeared to be gravelly, however closer inspection revealed the “gravel” to be grains of wheat thickly scattered about the path left over from an earlier harvest.

So back to tourist mode.  A hearty breakfast of actual eggs and mostly cooked bacon (seems they like their bacon limp), followed by a tour of the Cathedral.  Peregrinos get a reduced rate and an audio guide in your native tongue.  This place is huge and visually overwhelming.  Having studied art history, I am on information overload and taken aback by some of the pieces by pivotal artists and their styles.

Santa Maria Magdalena by Leonardo da Vinci and Giovan Pietro Rizzoli)
I took a few pictures, but seeing these pieces in person is the only way to do them justice.

(If you look closely you can see blood on Christ’s forehead)
Most of the pieces are reverent in their portrayal of the gospel, especially when “discussing” anything about Mary.  On the other hand, I found a choir seat piece where the artist got away with a whimsical portrayal of the many vices of man, some of which were graphic, but if it’s categorized as “art”, one seems to get away with it.

In keeping this ” PG”, I’ve included only one item.  I found myself laughing, while others in the gallery thought me odd…they didn’t get the joke of the artist poking fun at the Catholic Church, or rather the wealthy priest or Bishop who commissioned the work.  Several hours later I emerged from the Cathedral as Paul, Sue and Jerry waited patiently outside, watching people drift by.  More wandering.  A bite of lunch, and then to the Museum of the Evolution of Man.  This is where we got the significance of Atapuerca.  Realizing we’ve spent most of our “day off” on our feet…walking, we head back to our Hostal for a siesta before dinner.  I think we’re on the edge of going “native”.  When we emerge from our siesta, the city is alive with droves of people, dressed to the “nines”.  I give it up to the Spainards, they know how to dress.  Their wines are pretty good too.  We returned to San Lorenzo street as it is known for their Tapas bars and food.  Once again, we are not disappointed.  Satiated, we return to our Hostal and prep for our next day(s).

Buen Camino!
Be Strong! Austin Strong!

Day 13 (26km)
Belorado – Agés

For sure Sue and Jerry made the best decision to “sleep in” and take the 1030 bus to somewhere near Agés.  Paul and I got up at “O dark thirty” and headed out for a 30 KM trek that would include a 1500m climb over 8km.  The weather forecast did not call for rain, but it did mention something about being 45°, and as it turns out…they were right.  We steppedoutside of our Bavarian Esq albergue and were instantly glad we had bundled up and more importantly had warm gloves.  Once out of wind breaks the 45° quickly became sub 35° considering the wind chill factor. Even though we were prepared for cold, it didn’t make the wind chill any more enjoyable.  In fact it was so cold my snot was, for lack of a better term, frozen.  If I needed to sneeze I think my head would have blown off.  Most of the trail involved various grades of gravel or cobblestoned roads accompanied by steep rolling hills.  As we started early (0630) the first two villages we passed were still in snoozing.  Being mostly farmland, I’m not sure I understand the sleeping late business.  I guess it has something to do with eating dinner at 9pm and dancing at 11pm.  We still can’t get used to the towns being mostly shuttered till 6-7pm.  I’m not sure how they get anything done, especially with a 2-3 hour nap on the middle of the day.  We did however find the best café con leches (grande) in all of Spain at a restaurant/albergue in Espinosa del Camino (Albergue La Campana de Espinosa del Car).  This café con leche was steaming hot and was equal in volume to a “tall” Starbucks coffee (but better), which is saying something.  We actually took our time drinking it, rather than consuming it like a shot of whiskey. Reluctantly we head back into the cold brisk wind. 

(Looking back to VillaFranca)
From the foot of VillaFranca Montes de Ora we begin our climb to Alto de la Pedraja…1500m in 8km with another 4km to San Juan de Ortega and a peek into the functioning monastery currently being refurbished.  As we climb a thick canopy of oaks and large ferns flank us on either side.  A thick mist rains down on us and we stop to don our rain gear and pack covers.  For the most part we have been mostly alone, almost like the PCT.  As we change out, a herd of Germans appear as if out of nowhere.  Where the hell did they come from?  They pass cheerfully, smelling of fresh linen and tromping in crisp new boots.  They must be part of a bus tour we reckon…”bastards” (we mutter)…walking the best parts.

Once we reach the top of the climb, the terrain levels out.  It was still overcast and cold, but the wind is now blocked by thick stands of manicured oak and pine trees on either side if the wide trail.  Looking closer we figure this is a managed forest for logging, and we are now on logging roads.  As we walk on, we talk of getting a hot coffee at the next place we see, and as divine providence would have it an opportunity for such luxury in the middle of a forest appears.  An enterprising woman has set up a stand of “trail magic”.  She has fresh melon and hot coffee, and chairs in which to sit and take a load off.  She offers free of charge, but will accept donations.  We watch as several people walk briskly by her, wagging their heads and waving their hands, ” no” when she offers them samples of melon as they pass.  Recognizing a “sign” when we see it we stop and indulge.

After a nice rest, and a cafe con leche, we left a nice donation and headed toward the monastery at San Juan de Ortega. We had decided early on not to stay at the monastery’s albergue as the after affects of 90 people sleeping in a room after having consumed garlic soup served by the monks for dinner does not seem appealing, so we walk a little further.  Before doing so, we lunch with another couple from the States…Maryland to be exact.  While they are ordering bocadillos, and I am finding the WC, Paul is engaged in a Three Stooges episode involving chairs.  As we went into the “bar” Paul’s job was to “guard” our table for four till we got back.  Seemed simple enough until the Germans arrived (and before y’all get your panties in a bunch…I am of German heritage, so chill).  It seems that Paul standing by the table (w/ 4 chairs) and laying a jacket on two of the chairs as he unpacked our lunch did not dissuade one Frau from absconding with one of the chairs.  Not to worry, as there was a stack of fresh chairs 10ft from our table.  As Paul went to get a chair to replace the one taken, another Frau grabbed another of our chairs.  Hmmm, wise guys huh?.  Paul puts the next chair down and grabs a jacket to put on a third chair.  As he does another Frau takes the chair he just put down at the table.  Hmmm.  Meanwhile a woman is seated at the bench in front of the bar watching this all go down and is beginning to laugh.  Paul grabs another chair and as he puts it down a large male German starts to grab the chair he has just put down. Now Paul is a patient man, but by now he has had enough.  He puts his hand up in the man’s face and firmly states, “NO” and points to the stack of chairs.  The man shrugs his shoulders and heads off to the stack of chairs.  By this time I come out with our beers to go with lunch.  He tells me this story, after asking “what took so long?”, and points out the man who he told NO to.  I look at the man and point as well.  That guy was the reason I took so long, the bastard hopped three of us in line for food and beer at the bar and thought nothing of it.  If I’d have known he was the same guy associated with the chair thieves I would have bitched him out in German something fierce…if I wasn’t working on being more patient, I would have bitched him out right then, without Paul’s story.” You still have time,” was Paul’s response.  I strongly considered it then saw that he and the rest of his German enclave were starting to load onto the giant luxury bus that had just pulled up, and thought better of it.  Rick and Roberta returned with their sandwiches and laughed heartily when Paul filled them in on what they missed.  After lunch we took a quick tour of the monastery and went about our merry way.  By the time we made it into Agés we were ready for a shower and a quick nap.  Sue and Jerry made it with a minor adventure, in that the bus does not go to Agés, so they had to walk in about 4k from a bus stop, in a one “market” town.  When they asked the bus driver which way they should walk to get to Agés, he told them to ask the shop keeper, and drove off.  The only problem was that it was now “siesta” time and the store was closed, not to mention neither if them speak a lick of Spanish.  Luckily they were able to find an elder woman who was sweeping her stoop and she through a series of pantomime and broken spanglish was able to direct them to a tractor road that would take them directly into town.  The road was soft and easy on their feet, and per Jerry, was a “lovely” walk.  Our evening at the municiple albergue convinced us that we don’t want to stay at another municiple, if we can avoid it.  Not to profile, but its been our experience that there is an underlying clientele that seems to have no regard for others and for lack of a better term are just plain RUDE.  It didn’t help that the bar attached to the albergue was open till 2330.  So, between the loud drunken youths and the old tree rattling snorer (who I actually got up and tried to shove awake to get him to stop… He never woke up…just got louder) we started the next morning far from rested.  Note to future peregrinos, do NOT stay in Agés but walk a little further and stay in Atapuerca.  Atapuerca is quaint and is famous for its archeological sites.  It is a repository of paleontological and archeological artifacts spanning nearly a million years.  It is here that Homo Antecessor (the oldest evidence of hominids/ civilization in Europe).  So if you’re a “nerd”, as I am, this would be a better choice.  You can actually walk to these sites and see for yourselves.  This is a place I would come back to explore…and with a better command of Spanish.

Buen Camino!
Be Strong!  Austin Strong!

Day 12 (25.26 K)
Santo Domingo – Belorado

A not so early morning starts and we are walking with the herd through the damp streets of Santo Domingo, of which we could have spent at least another day. 

It is COLD, but the forecast calls is “iffy” on rain.  We hope the “iffy” is in our favor.  As we walk out of town, the wind is gusting, so much so that has it not been for the railing on the bridge I would have been blown off and swimming in 3 ft of water.  The skies are foreboding but we are treated to a brilliant rainbow.

While we walked the 26k into Belorado, Sue and Jerry caught a bus the next town over as the wind was too harsh and Sue was once again in jeopardy of being blown away.

We braved the wind and eventual rain, arriving in Belorado mostly dry with squishy wet feet.

We have made reservations, and after a bit of wandering through the town of Belorado, we find out Bavarian Esq albergue.  Our bunk room is on the top floor with a sagging yet stable thick beamed white plastered roof.  We dry our clothes and shoes on the roof and wander back into town in search of a market for tomorrow’s lunch…and a tall beer.  We find both, and Melie (from Florida) and catch up.

We join with several other peregrinos we have been leapfrogging and share stories as well and make plans to meet up Burgos.

Buen Camino!
Be Strong! Austin Strong!

Day 11 (29 KM)
Nájera -Santa Domingo

(Sue and Jerry, the calm before the storm)

Was an easy walk out of Nájera…with plenty a hill to keep Jerry “happy”.  At one point we all decided to break just before a lengthy climb.

We sat down next to the trail bordered by vineyards and as pelegrinos passed by we began to cheer as if it was the “Tour de France”.  Many thought us quite delirious, but many got a kick out of it and even got a boost of energy.  We laughed until our stomachs hurt, and then it was our turn to climb.  Energized from our cheering we tackled the hill with vigor and rewarded ourselves with a bit of lunch at the town of Ciriñuela’s golf course’s country club that literally appeared out of nowhere. I asked Jerry if he wanted to hit a bucket of balls, but he declined.  He did however retrieve a score card from the golf pro as a souvenir.  As we exited the golf club the predicted rain began to fall, lightly.  We donned our rain gear and continued undaunted through the sparsely populated town.  It was comprised of numerous tracks of condo like new buildings with all but four shuttered up completely.  It seemed like a “if you build it they will come” kind of idea, with regard to the plush golf course, club house, and housing, but they haven’t come, or we missed the party somehow.  As there were no lights on the golf course I assumed they would play during the day as opposed to after 9pm like they seem to do everything around here.  From town, you drop down onto a wide gravel trail.  By now the wind is gaining in strength.  Jerry says to Sue, “This is your last chance if you want to turn around and catch the bus to Santa Domingo.” With a resounding, “No, I’m fine with walking”, she turns into the wind and literally presses forward.  We had considered putting on our rain pants, but neither the rain or the wind was cold and Sue and Jerry had shipped theirs. The wind was now near gale force, reminiscent of heading up Tehachapi last year on the PCT.  Sue is attempting to draft off Jerry to avoid being swept away. We consider adding more to her pack just to keep her grounded…she’d rather fly.  Soon the wind was accompanied by a torrential downpour of biblical proportions…head-on.  In a flash we were soaked, only on the front half of our bodies.  As quickly as it came, it was gone.  By the time we reached the next town before Santo Domingo (Cirueña), Sue and Jerry had had enough (a little over 16K) and threw in the towel in favor a the next bus to Santo Domingo.  Later they told us that they felt like ” quitters” and ” bad” for leaving us, but when 30 other peregrinos who were younger than them got on the bus, they didn’t feel so bad.  Paul and I however, trudged on.  We had seen, heck we had been in this movie before, and it became actually fun…yes we are a little “off”.  We felt sorry for the cyclists as they were not traveling much faster than us against the 40-60 mph winds (don’t ask me to make the KM conversion).  We considered taking a seat as we had done earlier in the day and cheering the remaining walkers and cyclists on, but thought it might scare them a bit, or make the ” wrong impression “. On the horizon we could see that we were about to walk into another wet cell, which of course corresponded with our having just walked ourselves dry.  Well, now for the rinse cycle, we laughed.  The rinse cycle actually became the wash cycle, as it rained even harder than before and this time from all directions.  At one point Paul asked, “What’s going on with your shorts?”, huh?  I look down and I am completely frothy, or should I say soapy.  Apparently my shorts had excess soap from their last washing and were lathering up again.  Well, on the bright side, there is no need to do laundry in Santo Domingo anymore.  Eventually we arrive in Santo Domingo (again having walked ourselves dry) and meet up with Sue and Jerry.  We had reservations at a Pension and Jerry had sent his bag there, but it was pricey and there just happened to be room at the municiple albergue, so Paul and I liberated Jerry’s bag from the Pension to the displeasure of the operator who spoke NO English and appeared not to be able to read Spanish (remember I read/write better than I speak…in most languages).  As it turns out, this albergue (the municiple one) was the best we have stayed in yet (besides The Best Exotic Marigold..aka del Laurel).  It was clean, fairly new and had an excellent kitchen area where this time we (I) cooked a complete meal for pennies on the Euro for what we would have paid at a restaurant, which still is cheaper than any place in the states.

Seeing we had some leftovers, and Paul refused to carry it the next day, we shared with a French couple who were overjoyed to have a “home cooked” meal as well.  My reward was their wine…an excellent trade!  With that we retired and I had the best nights sleep I’ve had since summer camp in crowded dorms.  No really, I slept really well.

Buen Camino!
Be Strong! Austin Strong!

Day 10: 16.5KM
Navarette – Nájera

Today was a very easy walk. With that said we got up waay too early and were in Nájera by 1030 am.

We were however treated to an amazing sunrise when we looked back from whence we came.  As such we could not check into the municipal albergue until 2pm.  No worries, café con leches all around.  Jerry however asks for a diet Coke.  He is served a tall glass filled with ice and a very small amount of Coke.  Perplexed and annoyed, he points to the glass and asks, “That’s a diet Coke?”. The clerk nods in the affirmative.  We all laugh.  Yup Jerry, it’s a diet Coke if you only drink a little.  With time to spare and tummies rumbling, Paul and I head off to the market, after putting our packs “in line”, to forage for lunchables while Sue and Jerry keep a watchful eye on our gear.  Upon return, we break open our goodies, making sandwiches (bocadillos) accompanied by a couple cans of local beer.  Other pelegrinos look on and drool.  Even smarter ones divide and conquer, as did we, and also dine whilst waiting for the albergue’s doors to open.  As we lunched outside, an older gentleman toddled over and spoke to us briefly.  We nodded and smiled, not understanding a word he cheerfully said.   Then without notice the albergue’s doors swing wide open.  It is 1330.  How nice of them to open up early we say.  No sooner than the doors open, and faster than we can retrieve our packs that have been purposely placed ” in line ” as per pelegrino protocol indicating order of arrival, we are hopped by at least 20 “pelegrinos”.  Now I realize it’s early in The Camino, so maybe learning or accruing the virtues of patience and thoughtfulness may occur to them… eventually. (Hopefully sooner than later.)

We wait in line now for one of the finite number of beds.

As we were early enough, we were able to successfully secure bottom bunks (which we prefer), as the acrobatics required to descend from the upper bunks requires more agility than ascending.  We laugh about how we would fight for the upper bunks when we were kids, but now it’s just the opposite.

As we leave the now full albergue to check out the sites of Nájera (that include a Jesuit Monastery), we are serenaded by the same gentleman who talked to us earlier.

I notice an article pinned to the albergue wall.  The man pictured is remarkably similar to a younger version of the elderly man seated before us.  I ask him if the article is about him.  “Si” he proudly exclaims. “Mi canar.  Mi canar por la Popa” he proudly exclaims.  Can you sing for me, I ask ( in Spanish…I’m learning).  We are treated to a sweet serenade, that I videoed, however the video would not load… So I will load it later when I get home for your viewing pleasure.

He, apparently, is one of the benefactors of this albergue which runs on donations, and was/is a somewhat famous singer who has sung for the bishops and even the Pope(s).   He is quite the character, and it appears that no one but us has put two and two together or has even given this man the time of day.  I wish I was fluent in Spanish.  Oh the stories he could have told us.  We wander about the town.  It is quaint and an archaeologist’s dream land.  There are ancient cave dwellings and nearby archeological digs dating some finds back to the 2nd century.  While in Nájera, we run into Milie from Florida.  We met her on day one in St. Jean.  We share stories of our travels and she turns us onto a new app in which to find/secure places to stay ahead of time so that we don’t have to get up so early and “race” to the next albergue.  This will definitely help to make our journey less stressful and even more enjoyable.  Milie is also fluent in Spanish, and I accompany her to the local museum and monastery and learn about the town’s historical significance, that includes something about a king who was hunting and wandered into a cave (enclosed in the monastery) and saw the Blessed Mother…so he had a church built here.

America’s history is embryonic compared to what I am treated to today.  We attend a pilgrim’s mass en Espanol (of course) with the homily being something about the “Cross” of Christianity being the “Light” for the world.  Not being full fledged Catholic, I go up for a “blessing” from the priest during communion as I do at home. (I figure it can’t hurt and I need all the help I can get).  Apparently crossing of the arms doesn’t fly around here, and the Eucharist is shoved in my mouth.  I hear Paul giggle behind me.  Sue smiles.  “Well that does it.  I guess your Catholic now”, Paul quietly exclaims as he pats me on the back and we sit back in the pew for the closing of mass.  When mass is over, us few pelegrinos (7) are directed to the front of the church.  We are given a special blessing… en Espanol, and are directed to ring a special bell three times. A figurine of St. James is atop of it. Once for the Cross.  Once for the Blessed Mother, and once for St. James.

But wait there’s more…we are now led to the priests office (the sacristy) where he excitedly stamps our pelegrino passports, hands us prayer cards and tells us about his “order” (Opus Dei). He then exclaims that it is time to enjoy some wine and shepherds us to a door.  Thinking we are pretty special (as only 7 out if at least 90 “pelegrinos” that are at the albergue have attended mass), we now think we are going to have drinks with the priest.  We file through the door.  The door closes behind us, and we find ourselves in the street…alone.  We all look at each other and begin to laugh.  Ah, he meant it was time for HIM to have some wine…and us to go home.  Go figure.

Buen Camino!
Be Strong! Austin Strong!

Navarette 0 Km

Today was a day of relaxation… Of actual sleeping in and not having to pack in order to walk to our next destination.  Today we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast after church, like regular people.  The only thing is that we didn’t understand about 90% of what was said, but we got the point.  Pictured above is a portion of the interior of the church in Navarette.  It is told that it has the most gold adorned retablo in all of Europe.  At the time of its completion in the 13 hundreds it was the primary seat of government. As a general rule, the more ornate the interior of the churches the more wealthy the benefactors and/or the more significant the site.  We are in the province of Rioja, which is know for its wines.  While at our albergue we are treated to some fabulous wine from Angel’s fathers vineyard.  His father makes about 2000 liters of wine and sells none of it.  He makes it for his family, friends and the pelegrinos who stay at their albergue.  I asked him who consumes more of it.  “Our family and friends, for sure”, he laughs. 

Buen Camino!
Be Strong!  Austin Strong!

Day 9: 29KM
Viana – Navarette

Up early and the courtyard of the albergue is wet. Time to finally dig out the rain gear we have been carrying, and our pack covers for good measure. The night before was the first day of a three day festival in the town of Viana.  The evening before as we wandered the streets foraging for a pelegrino dinner…of rabbit.

We came upon a corral with young boys mock bull fighting with wheeled “bulls”.

Paul hamming it up with the kids.

We attempt to check out the church, but find it’s massive doors locked.

Banners hung from the balconies and posters and sandwich boards indicated a party is imminent.  Unfortunately for us, the festivities did not start till 11pm – way past pelegrino midnight (same as hiker midnight…9pm) and albergue lockout(10pm).  As we walk this morning through the dimly lit streets, evidence of a good time had by all lingers in the streets.  Food wrappers stick to the damp cobblestones and several young men stagger in front of the just opened Panderia, laughing and shouting, ” Good Morning!  Buen Camino!”. While it is not raining, it is too dark to tell if the skies are still threatening.   We have been fooled before into removing our raingear too soon, and we were determined not to fall victim again, even though our shirts were starting to be wetter from sweat than they ever would be from the current random drizzling.

For the most part, the trail is easy and treads on the borders of vineyards that eventually lead to the bustling city of Lograño.

It is weird walking into a city after traversing mostly through countryside and small “sleepy” villages.  Lograño, however is WIDE awake and I feel like we’ve walked into a giant ant farm.  We breakfast at a corner café next to a roundabout.  We chuckle as disoriented pelegrinos look at us and ask US for directions.  Go figure.  Sherrie pulls in sans backpack (she shipped it ahead to give her knees a break, per our suggestion) and has a bite and a chocolate with us.  She tells us her feet (still blistered) and knees are feeling much better when not lugging around 18kg (40 lbs). Since we are in a big city, we figure this is the best place to look for an additional USB micro cord, and send Sue and Jerry ahead telling them that we will “catch up”.  I think I understood the directions given by a helpful shop keeper and we peel off just prior to the Camino turning into a giant park (think NY Central Park), to find the Spanish equivalent of our Radio Shack.  Numerous locals whistle, yell to get our attention and point in the opposite direction, obviously distressed that we are veering off the Camino and risk getting ” lost” in the big city.  We assure the locals as best we can and find our store.  Back on the trail we walk through the park.

It is massive.  The park leads past a reservoir and encompasses a habitat restoration area and the through acre upon acre of rolling vineyards.

We pass the remnants of an ancient albergue or hospital.

Once we reach the edge of the village of Navarette, we search for our albergue which is on the Camino route.  Initially we have a difficult time locating the markers, as the ones affixed to the buildings do not resemble anything we have seen thus far.

As we got further into the village and towards the center of town additional markers can bee seen on the streets.

Eventually we reach our albergue (A la Sombra del Laurel) and check in.

This place is right out of The Exotic Marigold Hotel, complete with our own “Sonny” who’s name is Angel, which was appropriate. We are treated like royalty.  No need to go out to dinner.

Here we will take a much needed day off.

(Day 8: 21 KM)

Los Arcos – Viana

I thought I could escape the use of KT tape for my knee this trip, but it appears not to be the case.  My knee has started to act up again.  I think it may be the hard tac ground and stone streets we have been walking upon.  The supply of tape I did have, I have shared with an Aussie gal, Sherri, who we met early on and was in a quandary as to how to treat her blisters…and be able to continue walking.  Having had a previous knee injury, she was beginning to have knee problems again. (Sherri once worked for the police force in Australia and resigned her position when they would not give her the time off, even without pay, to walk the Camino…their loss as far as I’m concerned).   So my quest for now has been to find more KT tape or leukotape, so I duck into every open farmacie (pharmacy) looking for it.  Today I have struck gold and found the last known roll in all of Spain thus far.  Funny how it costs the same here as it does back home.

We walk through Torres de Río Plaza and look into the Santa Sepulchro, which is a 12th century octagonal church linked with the Knights Templar.  The interior is simple and unadorned save for the crucifix of Jesus.

From here we continue on and come upon another small town on a hill, whose church steeple beckons. Later on we see Maureen, who is a jovial woman, whose zest for life is infectious.  I hang back with her and we walk and talk for a good distance.  She is solo on this adventure, but in no way feels alone.  She tells a story of her 2nd day out of Orisson, over the Pyrenees on her way to Roncesvalles.  Near the top, late in the day, she found herself completely by herself.  Overhead were giant buzzards circling overhead.  A bit of fright overcame her.  Thinking and feeling as if the buzzards were waiting for her, she then shouted at the winged carnivores, “Not today boys!  Not today!”, and toddled on until she reached Roncevalles well after dark.  I learn she is a survivor of cancer and mersa, and her remaining jaw is fashioned out if her left tibia, but only after I pull it (the story) out of her.  She says people tell her she is courageous and inspiring.  She does not think so.  She tells me, “Me having cancer is nothing.  I am older and have lived a good life.  A child, or a parent of a child, with cancer or a disability, now that’s something.  The strength they must possess is inconceivable.  My heart goes out to them”.  Hardships are all about perspective, we surmise, and maybe the lessons to be learned are for those who live with or around those “suffering”. We laugh heartily and talk of healing and how perspective is everything, and what a rye sense of humor God has.  We talk of miracles and I share my story of Austin, the progress he has made thus far, and my daughter’s successes as she battles through the pain of fibromyalgia.  Maureen tells me she will add my daughter and Austin to her prayers.  We talk of how proud we are of our sons, who happen to be the same age, and commiserate about the fact we assume we will gain weight on this Camino as apparently Spain has not gotten the memo that gluten is bad for you…as there is bread (a LOT of it) with each meal.

Eventually we part ways, wishing each other ” Buen Camino”.  As she walks into a cafe, loud hellos and laughter errupt. Everyone seems to know Maureen.

We continue toward Viana, through the best of Basque Country…almond and olive orchards; vineyards in the midst of being harvested (by hand); “ruins” of shelters built of nearby stone frequent the countryside and were once shelters for “ancient” pelegrinos and Basque shepherds.

We come upon an impromptu “shrine” of sorts.

It appears that pelegrinos have felt inclined to leave a memento of some sort relating to their journey.  Some are meaningful, while others are whimsical.

When we started this morning, I felt a little “off”.  Melancholy, like I was in the doldrums, and for no reason.  It wasn’t until later on that I realized today’s date was 9/11.  How is it that my body and mind is attuned to what has become a day of reverence and remembrance.  Such a sad and world changing day.  Then, as the day went on, out of nowhere and without contemplation or design I suddenly feel light and carefree as if all is right in the world.  Worries and even regrets have evaporated.  My spirit is light. I am whole.  God is good…All of the time.

Buen Camino!
Be Strong!  Austin Strong!