Category: International Travel

{camino day 17} villafranca montes de oca to atapuerca

wanderessence1025 May 19, 2019

Because I was racing to beat other pilgrims to one of the two albergues in Atapuerca, neither of which took reservations, I left my hotel at 6:20. I walked endlessly upward under an ink-black sky sprinkled with constellations, guided only by the beam from my headlamp. The uphill was relentless, but finally, after 3.6km, I reached the Monumento de los Caídos, which marks the shallow graves of people executed during Spain’s Civil War. It sits atop Alto de la Pedraja, at 1,250 meters above sea level.

Villafranca de Montes de Oca (pop 200) to Monumento de los Caídos (3.6 km)

Monumento de los Caídos

Then it was down and over a footbridge crossing the arroyo Peroja and steeply up again until the trail widened out under oak and pine forests, dotted sporadically with ash and juniper, for another 8.6km. It was one of the most boring and ugly stretches I’d encountered so far. The track was wide and rocky and there was nothing to break the monotony. The only thing that caught my interest were patches of heather and ferns and some small pine trees laced with spider webs.

Monumento de los Caídos to San Juan de Ortega (8.6 km)

Monumento de los Caídos to San Juan de Ortega

flowers on the way

Monumento de los Caídos to San Juan de Ortega

the wide flat path

We came upon a kind of rest area (no snacks) with different types of totem poles. I took a break to walk around looking at them.

Totem rest area

Leaving the totem area, I bid adieu to the pilgrim sculpture at the far end.

pilgrim sculpture

Monumento de los Caídos to San Juan de Ortega

Along the track, Anne from Paris caught up with me and walked with me for a bit. She said she slept last night near a shelter we’d passed partway up the mountain. She said people were out hiking this morning at 5:00 a.m., shining their headlamps into her eyes. She planned to walk all the way to Burgos today.

Anne’s brief presence alongside me today was a blessing. She said she wasn’t afraid of sleeping outside; she was more afraid of men approaching her in Paris. Once a friend gave her a can of pepper spray; she always kept it handy.

Anne who slept outdoors

At the tiny hamlet of San Juan de Ortega (pop. 20), I shared a ham and cheese croissant with Anne.

San Juan, a disciple of Santo Domingo, was known for his great works to serve pilgrims along the Camino. He built bridges, hospitals, churches and hostels throughout the region. In this town full of dangers and difficulties for medieval pilgrims, he built an Augustinian monastery in 1150. The chapel is dedicated to San Nicolás de Bari, who supposedly saved San Juan from drowning on his way back from pilgrimage to the Holy Land.

It was too bad I wasn’t here two days later, on September 22 (the autumn equinox) to see the “miracle of light.” On that day, as well as on the spring equinox of March 21, a ray of light enters the building and illuminates the image of the Annunciation, with the Archangel Gabriel and the Virgin Mary. I didn’t stop here for long, just long enough to admire the mausoleum of Saint John with the canopy that surrounds it.

Monastery at San Juan de Ortega

San Juan de Ortega to Agés (3.6 km)

I left Anne behind in San Juan de Ortega because she reconnected with some young friends she’d met earlier in her walk. I walked endlessly alone through more forest, not knowing for a long time if I might be lost. The forest was lovely, with spaces between the trees filled in with heather and grass.

San Juan de Ortega to Agés

San Juan de Ortega to Agés

San Juan de Ortega to Agés

San Juan de Ortega to Agés

When I finally emerged from the forest, I could see farmland and the two towns I was expecting: Agés and Atapuerca. I can’t tell you how exciting it is when you finally see your destination glowing in the sunlight before you.

San Juan de Ortega to Agés

San Juan de Ortega to Agés

approaching Agés

I walked through Agés, a pretty little town. Its old quarter has houses in a traditional architectural style, with wood and adobe (sun-dried clay and straw bricks) as the building materials. Stone is also evident in construction.

Agés

Agés to Atapuerca (2.5 km)

After leaving Agés, I kept on, at first slightly downhill, crossing the simple medieval stone bridge, Puente Canto, built by San Juan de Ortega over the río Vena (a tributary of the río Arlanzón). It seemed like a long slog on a paved road to Atapuerca.

Agés to Atapuerca

Atapuerca has become famous for its paleontological sites, chief of which is the Sima de los Huesos (the pit of bones), where some of the earliest human remains have been found. Ongoing excavations and analysis at this UNESCO World Heritage site point to human activity going back at least 1.2 million years. Sadly this site was 3km off the Way, so I didn’t spend the half-day it would take to get there and back, plus to explore the site.

World Heritage site at Atapuerca

Agés to Atapuerca

When I arrived at 11:30 a.m., at Albergue El Perigrino, I put my backpack in line for a room. They didn’t open until 1:00, so I just sat around chatting with people. Here, I met Simon and Karen from Britain, who I’d meet many more times along the Camino; Ray and Tony, the friendly Aussies; and my Montreal friends, Paul and Richard.

Atapuerca

It was hot, so once we were assigned our rooms, I headed for the narrow unisex shower room. I was one of the first in. When I came out, fully dressed in my clean clothes but still damp, Tony and Ray, bulky guys both wearing only their underwear, were on either side of me. I laughed and said I felt like I was between a rock and a hard spot. People were packed into the shower room.

Ray and Tony then asked if I’d like to share a washing machine with them in a combined load of laundry. I threw my stuff in with theirs. Later, after I returned from lunch, I found Tony happily hanging up my underwear on the line outdoors. “Nice things,” he said with a grin. 🙂

I went to the bar in town for a lunch of potato tortilla and limon y cerveza and toothpicks with blocks of cheese, prosciutto and olives smothered in olive oil. I sat with my two French Canadian friends, Paul and Richard. We shared a deep conversation over a few beers. After Burgos, their Camino would be over. Paul had done it before with his partner of 28 years, and this time was doing it with Richard, his friend of 40 years. I told them about my seven year separation, and they were curious about how that worked out. Richard had been married before and had kids from his marriage, but had been with his current girlfriend for three years.

Paul and Richard from Montreal

Atapuerca

After lunch, I wandered up the hill to the 15th century parish church of San Martin, visible on a steep hill from the town below. A cool breeze soothed my heart. I said prayers inside. Paul had said during lunch that in the churches he felt a vortex of prayers ascending to heaven from pilgrims doing the Camino for the last 1,000+ years. He felt it was his job to be grateful and to listen.

Parish church of San Martin

cemetery in Parish church of San Martin

interior of Parish church of San Martin

I enjoyed beautiful views of Atapuerca and the surrounding countryside from the hilltop grounds of the church.

view from interior of Parish church of San Martin

Atapuerca

a discarded bull

I returned to my room at the Albergue El Perigrino to lie down and suddenly I got a text message from my loved one: “I don’t know what to do dad won’t talk to me and I’m going crazy over here the tiniest little things happen and I f** rage nobody will talk to me I’m completely alone.” I tried to call him and my husband but couldn’t get through to either of them. I called his brother who lives in Colorado and suggested our loved one should check himself into a hospital; he said our loved one would never do that and he wouldn’t either. He said they were both in a bad place right now. Our loved one had a big fight with his brother’s roommate Nick, who told him to get out, that he could no longer stay with them. He admitted Nick was a nightmare, an alcoholic who, after being sober for 6 years, was actively drinking again. He also said he was homesick and dreamed of coming home and he had been talking to his ex-girlfriend who was helping him; she had broken up with her boyfriend months ago. He didn’t know what he would do back home and he still liked his job. But he wanted to look after his brother and possibly live with him.

Albergue El Perigrino

Then my loved one called and said he was upset that he couldn’t talk to anyone and wanted to share his ideas with his family . He believed that he couldn’t trust anyone because the things he’d been told all his life were not true, one thing being that the earth is round. He believed the edge of the earth is Antarctica and there is an international force there with guns keeping people on earth. He said we need to change what we do; we should stop paying taxes to the U.S. government because they’re supporting the killing of children in Gaza and if the government comes to collect taxes, we should stand up to them. I said I didn’t believe any of that, and even if were true, it doesn’t affect how I live my life. I also said I wasn’t going to stop paying taxes and go to jail for the rest of my life; there are other ways to help children in Gaza, by giving to charities, etc. I said I was trying to find joy in my one and only life.

He asked what if he could prove the earth was flat and I said it would depend on the source and he said it was NASA dot gov. I said, “How is this information useful in your life?” At this he hung up on me. I didn’t call him back but got on the phone with my husband for an hour; he wondered if he should fly to Denver and notify the police of our loved one’s location because he spent 1 1/2 hours on the phone with him and believed he was at the end of his rope. He also said our loved one was so agitated that he couldn’t go to his job at Chipotle, which meant he would likely lose another job.

Later, our loved one sent a text to both of us saying, “I challenge you guys to simply consider the question: ‘What if he’s telling the truth?”

I wrote back a long, well-thought-out (in my opinion) text, which he never answered: “Let me ask you: Is all this research and are all these thoughts serving you well in your life? You can find information out there to support any idea you want to believe. Even if you are telling the truth, it doesn’t affect my life. I want to find joy in this life as much as possible and to connect with people. I have met so many people on the Camino struggling with many issues, yet they manage to find joy in the midst. Dad told me you were so agitated today you didn’t go to work, which may cause you to lose your job. Does making everyone upset and angry connect you or separate you from others? The big question is, are these beliefs serving you well and enabling you to feel fulfilled in your life? If they’re making you miserable, maybe it’s time to reevaluate. I love you and sadly I feel helpless to do anything to help you. I love you every second of my life with all my heart but I feel heartbroken that you seem to want to be at odds with the world. The world is not going to change to suit you, so why don’t you work to be the change you want to see in the world? I honestly don’t care if the world is flat or in the shape of a triangle; my desire is to find fulfillment and joy in the one life I have. You have so much to offer the world but if you continue as you are, I just don’t see how you will find your way. I love you but please don’t waste your time trying to convince me of your beliefs because they won’t change the way I life my life.”

My husband thought my message sounded good. Later, our loved one sent a text to my husband saying: “Just went and talked to a priest. He said he’s glad to see young people like me asking questions like this. He said he’s sorry my own family won’t listen to me. I’m going to work today but for one reason…SOMEBODY listened to me.”

I was terribly upset. I felt keenly the futility of trying to talk logically to someone who is illogical. Also, I knew I needed to step back. In the end, people are going to believe what they are going to believe. I can’t change anyone’s mind about anything. I felt my loved one needed psychological help, but there was no legal way I could force him to get help. Unless he attempted suicide or hurt someone, I was powerless. He was determined that he would not seek psychological help. He always has been firm on that point. My heart ached for him and his struggles; I wanted so much to help him but he has to want to seek help.

I must have looked devastated as I walked back to the albergue (I had been walking through the streets of the town as I talked to my husband on the phone, crying sporadically), because I met up with Karen and Simon and they listened lovingly to my predicament. Simon said gently that young people these days can find any information online to support any belief. They shared that someone in their family went through a series of breakdowns and it turned out she had been struggling with her sexuality. I loved how they shared their vulnerability, and were understanding and not judgmental, and they didn’t offer advice. They helped soothe my angst considerably.

I went to eat at the bar – pizza and red wine – and the bartender, who had been gruff earlier, must have sensed I was stricken because he was very gentle with me.

On the way back, I sat with Paul and Richard and told them what happened and let them read my text to my loved one. They thought it was a good text. Paul said I should just set him aside from my mind because I couldn’t do anything to help him unless he decided to help himself. Richard disagreed and said it was impossible because I am his mother.

I could hardly sleep all night because I was so agitated and anxious about my loved one’s mental health and well-being. I felt utterly helpless. I also felt disappointed that all my prayers, offered daily in my long solo walks and in churches along the Way, seemed to be going unanswered. What little faith I had been building seemed in danger of being snuffed out.

Atapuerca is one place I will never forget. The kind friends I met, the funny experience of the shower and laundry, and this traumatic experience all mingled together to etch the time and place vividly into my memory. I can still see it clearly today, and I still feel my heart race when I think about it.

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*Day 17: Thursday, September 20, 2018*

*230,502 steps, or 12.93 miles: Villafranca Montes de Oca to Atapuerca (18.8 km)*

You can find everything I’ve written so far on the Camino de Santiago here:

Camino de Santiago 2018

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On Sundays, I post about hikes or walks that I have taken in my travels; I may also post on other unrelated subjects. I will use these posts to participate in Jo’s Monday Walks or any other challenges that catch my fancy.

This post is in response to Jo’s Monday Walk: Back Lane Beauty.

amarante, portugal: the village of love

wanderessence1025 May 14, 2019

After a lazy morning in our Airbnb apartment, we escaped Porto’s rainy day forecast by driving to the sleepy village of Amarante through mist-enshrouded, vineyard-covered hills and valleys. Though it remained gloomy through the day, the rain ended upon our arrival, giving us a chance to wander the town’s zigzagging lanes and to sample its iconic São Gonçalo cakes.

Amarante is a destination for lonely heart pilgrims hoping to sniff out true love. It sits on a bend in the Rio Tâmega, which levels a winding watery path through an otherwise hilly landscape. The willow-lined riverbanks are dominated by a striking church and monastery sitting dramatically at the end of the medieval Ponte de São Gonçalo.

We strolled through this charming hometown of São Gonçalo, a 13th century hermit considered to be Portugal’s St. Valentine, amidst grizzled local men smoking cigarettes outside balconied houses. We dipped into a bakery for a treat of the phallus-shaped traditional São Gonçalo cakes. Legend has it that older unmarried women offered these cakes to the man they desired in hopes of finding reciprocal love.

Of course we had to sample these provocative cakes in an effort to blend in with the locals and pilgrims. 🙂

We crossed the Rio Tâmega on the granite Ponte de São Gonçalo, a bridge completed in 1790 to replace the original 13th century bridge, which collapsed in a flood in 1763. We found letters spelling A M A R A N T E decorated in child-like drawings . Switchback lanes carried us, with breathtaking effort, from the narrow valley floor to a sweeping view over the hills and the arcaded gallery of kings at Igreja de São Gonçalo.

Inside the lofty interior of the Igreja de São Gonçalo, we admired the gilded baroque altar, pulpits, and Gonçalo’s tomb. Here, the dead saint lends hope to pilgrims who are looking for a mate; it is said that if they touch the limestone statue above his tomb, their wish will be granted within a year.

After ambling around the austere cloisters of the church, we made our way down to the cobbled path along the south bank of the Rio Tâmega, admiring the watery reflections of homes and businesses, willow trees, the triple-spanned bridge, and the Casa da Calçada.

By the end of our visit, we grew hungry for lunch. We stopped in at Bar dos Pauzinhos where I had a wonderful Francesinha, a Portuguese sandwich-bread with wet cured ham, linguiça, and fresh sausage-like chipolata, covered with melted cheese and hot thick tomato and beer sauce. Every bite was heavenly. 🙂

After lunch, we hopped into our Clubman MINI Cooper and made our way back to Porto as the sun peeked out in the late afternoon.

Amarante

pastel de nata in Amarante

St. Gonçalo cakes

me eating a St. Gonçalo cake

Amarante

Casa da Calçada is a 16th century palace rising above the Ponte de São Gonçalo that is now a boutique hotel.

entrance to Casa da Calçada

Casa da Calçada

Amarante

across the Ponte de São Gonçalo to Igreja de São Gonçalo

the Rio Tâmega

AMARANTE

reflections along the Rio Tâmega

Ponte de São Gonçalo

Casa da Calçada & reflection

Interior and cloister of Igreja de São Gonçalo

Inside Igreja de São Gonçalo

cloister at Igreja de São Gonçalo

inside Igreja de São Gonçalo

Amarante south of the Rio Tâmega has winding narrow switchback lanes from which we found marvelous views. Above the Igreja de São Gonçalo’s Italian Renaissance side portal is an arcaded gallery with 17th-century statues of Dom João and other kings who ruled while the monastery was under construction: Sebastião, Henrique and Felipe I.

arcaded gallery of kings at Igreja de São Gonçalo

The bell tower was added in the 18th century.

bell tower of Igreja de São Gonçalo

balcony extraordinaire

Amarante south of the Rio Tâmega

Amarante south of the Rio Tâmega

Amarante south of the Rio Tâmega

arcaded gallery of kings at Igreja de São Gonçalo

Picking up our car and heading back to Porto

*Tuesday, October 30, 2018*

Steps: 14,940 (6.33 miles)

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“PROSE” INVITATION: I invite you to write up to a post on your own blog about a recently visited particular destination (not journeys in general). Concentrate on any intention you set for your prose. In this case, one of my intentions for my trip to Portugal was to pick five random verbs each day and use them in my travel essay: 1) ~~sniff~~, 2) ~~level~~, 3) ~~smoke~~, 4) ~~loan~~, 5) ~~end~~. √

It doesn’t matter whether you write fiction or non-fiction for this invitation. You can either set your own writing intentions, or use one of the prompts I’ve listed on this page: writing prompts: prose. (This page is a work in process.) You can also include photos, of course.

Include the link in the comments below by Monday, May 27 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this invitation on Tuesday, May 28, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

the ~ wander.essence ~ community

I invite you all to settle in and read a few posts from our wandering community. I promise, you’ll be inspired. 🙂

Maximcartography of cartographysis wrote a marvelous post intermingling his reading of José Saramago’s Blindness and the cod specialty bacalhau with a visit to Lisbon.
- Blindness and Bacalhau in Lisbon

Thanks to all of you who wrote prosaic posts following intentions you set for yourself. 🙂

{camino day 16} villamayor del río to villafranca montes de oca

wanderessence1025 May 12, 2019

I started my day at 6:30 a.m. by accidentally missing a 4.9 km stretch of the Camino. I stayed in a hotel last night, La Encantada in Quintanilla del Monte, that was 1 km off the Camino from the town of Villamayor del Río. Another pilgrim staying there, Vicky, had a service to take her into town. Assuming she meant Villamayor del Río, I asked if I could share her ride into town. Suddenly, we were speeding through the town and left it before I knew what was happening. “Which town are you going to?” I asked, feeling a bit of panic. She said, “Belorado.” It all happened in about 5 minutes. I felt disappointed as I meant to walk the whole Camino, but I had no desire to backtrack at that hour of the morning in the dark. So I found the Hotel Jacobeo in Belorado, ate a chocolate croissant, a hard boiled egg, café con leche and orange juice. Then I replenished my cash, and was on my way in the dark. My right hip and the muscle along the inside of my knee were hurting, so I stopped to stretch a number of times.

Villamayor del Río to Belorado (4.9 km)

Belorado

The historic town of Belorado, built in the steep valley of the río Verdeancho, has a population of about 2,100. The town has castle ruins of Roman origins that point to the town’s defensive past straddling the old border of Castile. As it was dark when I arrived, I didn’t see the castle ruins, the ancient cave dwellings that were once home to hermits, or the 14th century Church of Santa María.

The landscape was enshrouded in fog for almost the entire walk, so I attended to the haystacks, the wildflowers, and violet berries along the path.

Belorado to Tosantos (4.8 km)

Belorado to Tosantos

I went through Tosantos (nothing there but its 60 residents), where I saw the chapel of the Virgen de la Peña (Our Lady of the Rock) clinging to a wall of rock.

Tosantos to Villambistia (2.0 km)

sunflowers

café inTosantos

Casa de los Deseos

Peregrino Medieval

After a steep climb, I stopped in Villambistia (Pop. 50) at Casa de los Deseos for a mango juice, café con leche, and a bathroom break. I wasn’t really hungry as I’d had that big breakfast in Belorado, but the fog had gotten so thick, I felt like I was soaked. I wanted to dry off. I saw the adorable Québécois couple, Daniel and Rosalina. She said she’d been miserable with indigestion but was feeling better now. There I met Stella from London who told me of an app called The Camino Companion, which I could never find. I met Brian the Irishman who gave me grief for using the men’s room.

There was a pretty church, Iglesia San Roque, in Villambistia, but it was closed.

Iglesia San Roque in Villambistia

I continued on a broad, smooth, rural track through fields of sunflowers, wildflowers and violet berries.

Villambistia to Espinosa del Camino (1.6 km)

sunflowers

colorful violet berries

pretty greens

droopy sunflowers

sunflowers

tiny yellows

little stars

spider web

I walked through the small town of Espinosa del Camino (pop. 40) without stopping. The Albergue la Campana was a charming yellow place with a bicycle set up out front.

Espinosa del Camino

Espinosa del Camino

We climbed and climbed until we crested a hill and could see Villafranca de Montes de Oca down below. There, I met Alex and Meghan from Ontario, Oregon. Alex had hurt his knee carrying two bags (one for himself and one for Meghan who had gotten hurt going down into Zubiri).

Espinosa del Camino to Villafranca de Montes de Oca (3.6 km)

Espinosa del Camino to Villafranca de Montes de Oca

Meghan and I stopped to admire the 9th century ruins of Monasterio de San Félix de Oca, with its distinctive arch. Here, the founder of Burgos, Count Diego Porcelos, was probably interred. Meghan worried about her 21-year-old daughter, who had fallen behind to hang out with an Italian guy.

Monasterio de San Félix de Oca

The scene became more painterly as we approached the town and the sunlight melted over the hilly farmland and sunflower fields.

Espinosa del Camino to Villafranca de Montes de Oca

sunflower-lined path

Espinosa del Camino to Villafranca de Montes de Oca

sunflowers

Espinosa del Camino to Villafranca de Montes de Oca

field of dreams

me with sunflowers

Espinosa del Camino to Villafranca de Montes de Oca

river Oca

Because of skipping ahead, I was in my hotel by 11 a.m. What was supposed to be a 17.3 km walk turned into an 11.8 km walk. I got an easy day without intending to!

My hotel, La Alpargateria, was the first one on the noisy main road in Villafranca de Montes de Oca; it was run by two lively sisters, Sylvia and Kristina. Their father ran the bar next door, El Pajaro, the only place to eat in town. I had a jambon sandwich and cerveza for lunch.

Villafranca de Montes de Oca historically welcomed pilgrims as early as the 9th century. This is one of several Villafrancas along the way that became home to Franks arriving as pilgrims and returning as artisans. The village is located at the foot of the Montes de Oca, formerly a wild unpopulated area notorious for bandits that preyed on pilgrims. The bandits often prayed for protection (after all, bandits needed protection too!) from the Saint himself in the safety of the 18th-century Church of Santiago or they’d find shelter in the 14th-century Hospital de San Antonio Abad, which had recently been restored. This handsome building is often referred to as the Queen’s Hospice.

Back in my room, I edited my photos and posted on Instagram and chatted for a while with Mike on Whatsapp. Darina wrote and said she was having a fabulous time in Navarette with her friends and even went to the sea in San Sebastian. She said she might be in Burgos on Monday, but I would be gone by then. She sent photos of a beautiful waterfall she went to: Monasterio de Piedra in Aragon. She said the energy of the place, the spirituality, was better 250 km to the east of Navarette: “I’m sooo blessed and happy.” She is such a joyous person. Joy emanates from her. I would love to find that kind of joy in my life and emanate it as she does.

I also heard from Claire and Matt and she found she got the job teaching English in Korea. I felt so happy for their upcoming adventure.

As small as the town was, it had a truck stop at the entrance to town and it was a busy truck corridor. The trucks barreled through town, paying little heed to the pilgrims on the skimpy sidewalks. If I hadn’t been paying attention when I walked out the door of the supermarket, I would have been flattened! I couldn’t help but wonder how many pilgrims got killed in this town each year.

La Alpargateria

Later, sitting under a shaded awning at El Pajaro, I met 27-year-old Anne from France. She was very cute, with her cropped brown hair and nose ring. She planned to camp in her sleeping bag that night because there were no rooms in town. She seemed happy to do so, and had done it before. She had been working in Paris doing animation for commercials, but she quit because she didn’t like it. She, like Darina, seemed full of joy.

El Pajaro Restaurant/Bar in Montes de Oca

Montes de Oca

Sadly, the Church of Santiago wasn’t open.

Church of Santiago

Montes de Oca

Montes de Oca

Montes de Oca

Montes de Oca

Church of Santiago

fountain of Church of Santiago

Church of Santiago

San Antón Abad

Church of Santiago

In the evening, I shared a pilgrim’s meal with the two French Canadian guys, from Quebec, Richard and Paul. We had a lot of laughs. They said they’d had dinner with Vibeke, the Danish lady I’d met a couple nights earlier, in Belorado. They talked of their dismay over Trump’s appeal (they hated him), the French language vs. Québécois French, Paul’s past hikes on the Camino with his wife, and how they had a room reserved for the next day in Atapuerca. My pilgrim meal was green beans, trout with French fries, wine and pudding. It was so much fun; I drank a lot of wine, but for some reason I hardly ever felt anything from Spanish wines.

Tomorrow, I’d have to get an early start to race for a bed at the albergue at Atapuerca, where beds were known to be scarce and no reservations were taken, except for private rooms, which were all booked. The Camino was really crowded and every day people were reserving ahead to be assured of a place to sleep.

I could hear the trucks roaring past my window all night.

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*Day 16: Wednesday, September 19, 2018*

*20,686 steps, or 8.77 miles: (Villamayor del Río) Belorado to Villafranca Montes de Oca (supposed to be 17.3 km, actually 12.0 km)*

You can find everything I’ve written so far on the Camino de Santiago here:

Camino de Santiago 2018

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This post is in response to Jo’s Monday Walk: Back Lane Beauty.

{camino day 15} santo domingo de la calzada to villamayor del río

wanderessence1025 May 5, 2019

I left at 6:45 a.m. start and talked briefly with an Irishman named Brian who had always been fascinated by the Camino. He did the last 100km in 2013, during which time he was going through marital difficulties. A Canadian woman held his hand and that was what enticed him back to complete the entire route. In the interim, he and his wife of 28 years went through a divorce; she cheated on him and refused to go to counseling, but the divorce was amicable. He said one good thing came out of his marriage: his kids.

While we were talking, we missed a fork in the path completely. A Spanish man standing in the dark along the path yelled out and pointed us in the right direction. Brian said that on the Camino angels appear out of nowhere to lead you.

There was some gossip along the Camino that Irishmen were hitting on women, spending nights with them and then disappearing; it was quite common apparently. I have no idea if that was true or not, but it was part of the Camino lore.

It was a day of black-faced sunflowers bowing their forlorn faces to the elusive sun. The path was flanked by ochre cornfields.

I had a nice chat with a man from Cologne, Germany who worked for Sprint. He said he thought Washington, D.C. was much nicer than New York; he used to live in New Jersey. Sadly, I had to excuse myself from that conversation for a nature call. 😦

I stopped at a cute cafe in Grañón for potato tortilla and café con leche and orange juice. We had to wait in line forever, but I hadn’t had breakfast so I had to wait. I liked to eat breakfast after getting a few kilometers under my belt. At the café, Shireen from Australia said the same man who directed us at that earlier fork in the path had yelled to direct her as well. We could only assume it must have been the man’s vocation to direct pilgrims at that confusing spot.

Santo Domingo de la Calzada to Grañón (6.7 km)

small ermita over the río Oja

sunrise

sunrise over Santo Domingo

Santo Domingo de la Calzada to Grañón

thistles & sunflowers

sunflowers

sunflowers

sunflowers

sunflowers

sunflowers

approaching Grañón

café in Grañón

Grañón

After breakfast in Grañón, I stopped for a brief visit to Iglesia S. Juan Bautista (Church of St. John the Baptist), and, after saying my routine prayers, sat for a while trying to figure out how to work the flash on my new Canon.

Iglesia S. Juan Bautista in Grañón (pop. 290)

Iglesia S. Juan Bautista

Grañón

I left Grañón on a hilly patchwork of farmland. It was a bit cloudy and cool, a nice relief from the heat as we left La Rioja region behind. Soon, we found a huge metal sign marking the start of the province of Burgos and therefore, of the largest autonomous region in Spain, Castilla y León. It is eleven times the size of the region of Madrid, but with a population of half that of Madrid. The ancient kingdom of Castile is named for its many castles, which sought to protect the kingdom. Fernando I established Castile in 1035, and El Cid turned the tide against the Moors from his base in Burgos in the 1090s. Castile was united with León two hundred years after it was founded under Fernando III.

This area is home to the Meseta, the flat plateau region that tests the mettle of many pilgrims. We weren’t to the Meseta yet, so we would have some time to prepare. Cereal crops abound here, mainly wheat and oats, with some sheep and goats. We saw fields of sunflowers in both areas today. We entered the town of Redecilla del Camino, where I stopped for a mango juice. Sadly the Nuestra Señora de la Calle (Our Lady of the Street) church was closed and I had to move on.

Grañón to Redecilla del Camino (3.8 km) (cross into Castilla y León)