16 mayo, 2010
06 mayo, 2008
Day 8 (Wed 30 April) Porto. to Melide
A sunny start to the day. The view looks great this morning and the day ahead does not seem so bad. My legs don´t feel so bad and the feet seem OK too. A good strong black coffee and a chocolate croissant provide the needed boost for setting off, it´s about 8.30 am, uncertain of how far I´ll get today.
Soon after leaving Portomarin we are into a sparse forest and about an hour into the journey the rain starts falling once again. By now I am familiar with the routine: head down cape wrapped around me and just move forward. There´s no need to avoid puddles because within minutes everything uncovered is wet. Also little point changing sox too often since they will be soaked soon enough and you´ll be left without a dry pair when you reach you destination.
OK, walking, interesting scenery, everything green, endless green, but into the third day of rain and green you start to wish for a bit of red soil, a bit of sun, something not quite so green since it reminds you of the rain needed to keep it green.
The small villages go past and now that we are out of Lugo they even have names. The numbers on the milestones get smaller and an occasional stop at a bar for a hot cup of restorative tea or infusion perks up the spirit and restores the body for another spurt of trekking along the Way.
Writing this almost a week later I can think of nothing in particular that stands out. The occasional breaks in the clouds give the pilgrim a chance to have a little break, eat a snack or just rest and admire the scenery. All this sort of reminds me of Ireland or parts of England, even down to the low stone walls. All rather bucolic and peaceful and reminiscent of summers in the country.
I keep walking and pass through some interesting little hamlets with lovely stone churches. One of the best (in my unbiased opinion) is San Xulián and any saint with a name like mine must have been a great guy. As you can see from the photos, it is a lovely little spot and the church unpretentious but effective.
Eventually, and fortunately with clearing skies, I get to Mélide. Once again, I had not planned to get that far but the hostels were closed so there was nothing to be done but carry on, fortunately on rather level ground.
It is just as well I made it to the big town. The hostel itself was nothing to write home about. Still, the bed was comfortable (3 €, usual for Public hostels) but the shower not very hot. Feeling sore and tired I wandered into town to find a pharmacy and to look for dinner. The chemist advised against my selection because of possible stomach trouble (no one committed themselves to a negative diagnosis) and sold me a muscle relaxant instead, commenting that the combination would see me sound asleep and refreshed the next morning.
Now for dinner! While making my way through the town to the hostel noted various "Pulperias" and started to wonder if thais was a specialty of the town. Now Pulpo is Octopus and one of those specialist places stood out because of the copper vats near the entrance. The whole octopus in boiled in this stock and then cut up to order. As with anything simple, there is an art to doing it well and that particular place took my fancy so I headed back there.
It turned out to be a favourite, judging by the number of pilgrims already there. I ordered a salad, some local white and a serving of pulpo. Now for a word about the wine. You can buy bottled wine or you can get a jug from the barrel. This is unfiltered and of pretty good quality, considering. In Galicia it is served in ceramic "cups" or rather small bowls like the ones you see in Asian restaurants. Very interesting and rustic. I managed to get through most of the jug and cleaned up the substantial serving of pulpo as well. Chatting with other pilgrims was also a pleasure and added another level to the meal.
So, refreshed, restored and well fed I wandered, hobbled, back to the hostel for a very sound and uninterrupted sleep.
Soon after leaving Portomarin we are into a sparse forest and about an hour into the journey the rain starts falling once again. By now I am familiar with the routine: head down cape wrapped around me and just move forward. There´s no need to avoid puddles because within minutes everything uncovered is wet. Also little point changing sox too often since they will be soaked soon enough and you´ll be left without a dry pair when you reach you destination.
OK, walking, interesting scenery, everything green, endless green, but into the third day of rain and green you start to wish for a bit of red soil, a bit of sun, something not quite so green since it reminds you of the rain needed to keep it green.
The small villages go past and now that we are out of Lugo they even have names. The numbers on the milestones get smaller and an occasional stop at a bar for a hot cup of restorative tea or infusion perks up the spirit and restores the body for another spurt of trekking along the Way.
Writing this almost a week later I can think of nothing in particular that stands out. The occasional breaks in the clouds give the pilgrim a chance to have a little break, eat a snack or just rest and admire the scenery. All this sort of reminds me of Ireland or parts of England, even down to the low stone walls. All rather bucolic and peaceful and reminiscent of summers in the country.
I keep walking and pass through some interesting little hamlets with lovely stone churches. One of the best (in my unbiased opinion) is San Xulián and any saint with a name like mine must have been a great guy. As you can see from the photos, it is a lovely little spot and the church unpretentious but effective.
Eventually, and fortunately with clearing skies, I get to Mélide. Once again, I had not planned to get that far but the hostels were closed so there was nothing to be done but carry on, fortunately on rather level ground.
It is just as well I made it to the big town. The hostel itself was nothing to write home about. Still, the bed was comfortable (3 €, usual for Public hostels) but the shower not very hot. Feeling sore and tired I wandered into town to find a pharmacy and to look for dinner. The chemist advised against my selection because of possible stomach trouble (no one committed themselves to a negative diagnosis) and sold me a muscle relaxant instead, commenting that the combination would see me sound asleep and refreshed the next morning.
Now for dinner! While making my way through the town to the hostel noted various "Pulperias" and started to wonder if thais was a specialty of the town. Now Pulpo is Octopus and one of those specialist places stood out because of the copper vats near the entrance. The whole octopus in boiled in this stock and then cut up to order. As with anything simple, there is an art to doing it well and that particular place took my fancy so I headed back there.
It turned out to be a favourite, judging by the number of pilgrims already there. I ordered a salad, some local white and a serving of pulpo. Now for a word about the wine. You can buy bottled wine or you can get a jug from the barrel. This is unfiltered and of pretty good quality, considering. In Galicia it is served in ceramic "cups" or rather small bowls like the ones you see in Asian restaurants. Very interesting and rustic. I managed to get through most of the jug and cleaned up the substantial serving of pulpo as well. Chatting with other pilgrims was also a pleasure and added another level to the meal.
So, refreshed, restored and well fed I wandered, hobbled, back to the hostel for a very sound and uninterrupted sleep.
02 mayo, 2008
Day 7 (Tues, 29 April) Samos to Portomarin
Hi, still with me?
Glad to hear it so let´s get going cause we have a long way to go today. All the way to Portomarin or about 35 kms. In the rain, yes, again, and with only a few minute´s break in between.
One thing I noticed, and other people commented on, is the fact that distances in Galicia are fairly flexible. As the days went by I got the impression that originally all distances in Galicia had been calculated in miles and then they simply changed the sign to kilometres without adjusting the numbers. The distance to Santiago milestones are fairly accurate but they don´t tell you how far it is to the next town. In fact, in the Lugo province they don't even put the names of the villages out. Maybe they are afraid of invasions or they think that they know the name and bugger everyone else. In Castilla-Leon every village had a big sign at the entrance telling you everything there is to know about it and, very important, how far the next town or village was. Galicians haven's spent a single cent on anything but yellow arrows and milestones. You're on your own, mate, and don't bother with the maps because they all have different numbers for the distances and they don't relate to the miles walked. Together with the constant rain, it made trekking in Galicia a very frustrating experience.
But anyway, there I was berating the gods and screaming obscenities into the lonely air when another hiker came past. I hadn't seen anyone for a while and had not noticed anyone behind me so his appearance came as something of a surprise. In fact, he had been sheltering in a bar I had seen just before and had just come out reinvigorated. I ranted for a while longer in Spanish and then, when he said he was German, in English as well. It was good to get it off my chest, I must say.
We walked together and chatted for a while. We had both spent time in Brazil and had traveled extensively in the past. We stopped at a bar for a hot cup of tea and he met up with some real Brazilians he'd met before. They were going the same way and their friend was driving the support vehicle. Very organized these people. The good thing for me was that Encarnación (her real name and, like Purification and pain etc, no surprise to any resident of Spain) had a similar phone to mine and therefore a car charger. She offered to charge my phone for me and give it back in Portomarin. Anywhere else and I would not have considered this as an option but on the Camino....
Have I mentioned losing things before? Well, I do, on every trip. Not usually very expensive things but things you bloody well need but suddenly cannot find. A real nuisance, I can tell you. I had already lost a scarf/beanie combination that Marta had lent me and later I would also lose the hat she'd given me and later I would lose the beanie as well. On the previous walk I lost one glove and something else as well. I would lose a few more inexpensive but suddenly essential things over the following days. I guess I'll have to be mer careful. Or maybe carry spares of everything.
Anyway, after what seemed like a lot more miles than indicated on the map we eventually got to Portomarin at about 7 pm. The hostel was the Mirador, a place with a view, and it really had a good view of the river etc. The bed was 9€ and the dinner as well. I had a great squid soup but a very average scrambled eggs. The others had more interesting main courses and I kicked myself for not choosing better. The wine was nothing to talk about and I only had a few sips. Reds in Galicia are generally not very good but the whites offer better value for money. After a little chat with the Brazilians and Encarna (the phone was fully charged and therefore a long talk with Leslie very welcome) it was time for bed at a rather sober 10.30 pm. But, on the road, you really don´t feel like partying much and if you tried dancing you'd move like the monsters in Michael Jackson's "Thriller".
Tomorrow, as they say, is another day, another wet one!
Glad to hear it so let´s get going cause we have a long way to go today. All the way to Portomarin or about 35 kms. In the rain, yes, again, and with only a few minute´s break in between.
One thing I noticed, and other people commented on, is the fact that distances in Galicia are fairly flexible. As the days went by I got the impression that originally all distances in Galicia had been calculated in miles and then they simply changed the sign to kilometres without adjusting the numbers. The distance to Santiago milestones are fairly accurate but they don´t tell you how far it is to the next town. In fact, in the Lugo province they don't even put the names of the villages out. Maybe they are afraid of invasions or they think that they know the name and bugger everyone else. In Castilla-Leon every village had a big sign at the entrance telling you everything there is to know about it and, very important, how far the next town or village was. Galicians haven's spent a single cent on anything but yellow arrows and milestones. You're on your own, mate, and don't bother with the maps because they all have different numbers for the distances and they don't relate to the miles walked. Together with the constant rain, it made trekking in Galicia a very frustrating experience.
But anyway, there I was berating the gods and screaming obscenities into the lonely air when another hiker came past. I hadn't seen anyone for a while and had not noticed anyone behind me so his appearance came as something of a surprise. In fact, he had been sheltering in a bar I had seen just before and had just come out reinvigorated. I ranted for a while longer in Spanish and then, when he said he was German, in English as well. It was good to get it off my chest, I must say.
We walked together and chatted for a while. We had both spent time in Brazil and had traveled extensively in the past. We stopped at a bar for a hot cup of tea and he met up with some real Brazilians he'd met before. They were going the same way and their friend was driving the support vehicle. Very organized these people. The good thing for me was that Encarnación (her real name and, like Purification and pain etc, no surprise to any resident of Spain) had a similar phone to mine and therefore a car charger. She offered to charge my phone for me and give it back in Portomarin. Anywhere else and I would not have considered this as an option but on the Camino....
Have I mentioned losing things before? Well, I do, on every trip. Not usually very expensive things but things you bloody well need but suddenly cannot find. A real nuisance, I can tell you. I had already lost a scarf/beanie combination that Marta had lent me and later I would also lose the hat she'd given me and later I would lose the beanie as well. On the previous walk I lost one glove and something else as well. I would lose a few more inexpensive but suddenly essential things over the following days. I guess I'll have to be mer careful. Or maybe carry spares of everything.
Anyway, after what seemed like a lot more miles than indicated on the map we eventually got to Portomarin at about 7 pm. The hostel was the Mirador, a place with a view, and it really had a good view of the river etc. The bed was 9€ and the dinner as well. I had a great squid soup but a very average scrambled eggs. The others had more interesting main courses and I kicked myself for not choosing better. The wine was nothing to talk about and I only had a few sips. Reds in Galicia are generally not very good but the whites offer better value for money. After a little chat with the Brazilians and Encarna (the phone was fully charged and therefore a long talk with Leslie very welcome) it was time for bed at a rather sober 10.30 pm. But, on the road, you really don´t feel like partying much and if you tried dancing you'd move like the monsters in Michael Jackson's "Thriller".
Tomorrow, as they say, is another day, another wet one!
29 abril, 2008
Day 6 B, 28th April, O'Cebreiro - Samos
Welcome back!
Well, today I actually start at Pedrafita, at the bottom of the mountain cause that's where the Madrid bus leaves me at 6 AM. It´s 4 KM to the top of the mountain and it's pitch dark but dry and cool. I start walking and it feels great. Not much sleep because I had to sit at just behind the driver, could not stretch my legs and had headlights in my eyes.
At the top of the hill it started to snow, typical, and a reminder of the lat time I was up this way. It eventually turned to normal day as the "sun" came up and it kept raining for the rest of the day. OK, it did stop occasionally but just enough to lull you into a false sense of security, remove your clothes and start singing. The it came down again unexpectedly and off you went again, cursing Galicia.
I had planned to take it easy on my first day so as to save my strength and last the 151 km to Santiago. I had a lighter pack , a lighter sleeping bag than last time and had packed more carefully. Still, it seemed heavy enough and there was a long way to go, up and down hill.
Well, today I actually start at Pedrafita, at the bottom of the mountain cause that's where the Madrid bus leaves me at 6 AM. It´s 4 KM to the top of the mountain and it's pitch dark but dry and cool. I start walking and it feels great. Not much sleep because I had to sit at just behind the driver, could not stretch my legs and had headlights in my eyes.
At the top of the hill it started to snow, typical, and a reminder of the lat time I was up this way. It eventually turned to normal day as the "sun" came up and it kept raining for the rest of the day. OK, it did stop occasionally but just enough to lull you into a false sense of security, remove your clothes and start singing. The it came down again unexpectedly and off you went again, cursing Galicia.
I had planned to take it easy on my first day so as to save my strength and last the 151 km to Santiago. I had a lighter pack , a lighter sleeping bag than last time and had packed more carefully. Still, it seemed heavy enough and there was a long way to go, up and down hill.
Not long after heading out of O´Cebreiro I took a wrong turn or, more accurately, did not notice the small arrow pointing to a slight but crucial change of direction up what looked like a goat track. I had walked about three kms before a local farmer stopped me and pointed out my mistake, Fortunately for me, he gave me a lift back up the hill. I felt a bit better when I saw several other people going the wrong way as well. It seemed that this was a frequent occurrence and that many people did, indeed, get lost. As it happened, this was to be a regular occurrence in Galicia where the interest in Pilgrims seems to be somewhat lacking. You´ll hear more about this as the days go on.
Ok, so there I was walking in the rain, not really seeing very much because it was not just a drizzle coming down but a regular, very regular, downpour. There was nothing to do but keep the head down and keep going. The scenery was lovely and you might just get an idea from the photos. Otherwise think of Ireland or even Scotland with the mist and the rain.
Finally, I got to the monastery at Samos. By then it had stopped raining and I waddled in tired and sore. This is one hell of a monastery! Massive! The Pilgrim's hostel was actually a room in the monastery, on the ground floor, fortunately, and supplied a bed and hot showers. It was run by an elderly Austrian lady who was very mothering and was concerned about my poor feet and the pain in the back of my knees. This was unexpected but then I had just walked nearly 40 kms up and down hills and mountains. Fortunately I had some of Mariluz's tortilla to keep me going.
After a shower and a little siesta I wandered around to find a pharmacy thinking that this is not a good way to stat a long trek and that there were another four days and about 120 kms to go. I was given some Voltaren (diclofenaco sodico, if you must know) and I also took some Ibuprofen for good measure. It did help but eventually played havoc with my guts and I stopped taking the tablets.
Later that evening we, the pilgrims, were treated to a tour of the monastery and at 7.20 pm we attended Vespers, hearing the monks sing beautifully. Together with my foot washing experience in Rabanal del Camino this added up to more religious experiences in a few weeks than I´d had in a long time. Dinner was taken across the road and I will not bother you with the details. Afterwards it was straight to bed and lights out at 10.30.
27 abril, 2008
Day 6 A, Monday 25th April
Today was going to be the last day for me.
I was heading down the hill to Piedrafita in order to catch the bus back to Madrid. THe good night´s sleep had done wonders for me and if not exactly firing on all cylinders I was well enough to enjoy the day and to look forward to new adventures. It had kept snowing during the night and everything was white and the sky relentlessly gray. We found a bar for our coffee, ColaCao as usual for Monica, and good toasted peasant bread for sustenance.
They headed thataway and I headed my way after taking a few pictures to commemorate our separation. The journey downhill went smoothly and only took around forty five minutes. While having a coffee I asked about a bus to Ponferrada and was told one was leaving in a few minutes. Not wanting to spend six hours cooped up in a bar in a small town while a snow storm raged outside I jumped on it and we headed off in a minibus to the sounds of flamenco and galician folk songs, some of which sounded remarkably like Hawaiian eukalely music. As it turned out, after the initial fifteen minutes of skirting the highway we followed pretty much the same route we had trekked through the day before. It was a bit strange to watch all those miles pass by so wuickly, so smoothly.
At two thirty I got on my bus, yes the same one I would have taken from Piedrafita, and headed back to Madrid. I had about six hours ahead of me and I managed to survive the trip.
It was time to go back to work but I had caught the bug and had decided to return to Piedrafita and hike the four kms up to O'Cebreiro and from there continue the journey to Santiago de Compostela.
I was heading down the hill to Piedrafita in order to catch the bus back to Madrid. THe good night´s sleep had done wonders for me and if not exactly firing on all cylinders I was well enough to enjoy the day and to look forward to new adventures. It had kept snowing during the night and everything was white and the sky relentlessly gray. We found a bar for our coffee, ColaCao as usual for Monica, and good toasted peasant bread for sustenance.
They headed thataway and I headed my way after taking a few pictures to commemorate our separation. The journey downhill went smoothly and only took around forty five minutes. While having a coffee I asked about a bus to Ponferrada and was told one was leaving in a few minutes. Not wanting to spend six hours cooped up in a bar in a small town while a snow storm raged outside I jumped on it and we headed off in a minibus to the sounds of flamenco and galician folk songs, some of which sounded remarkably like Hawaiian eukalely music. As it turned out, after the initial fifteen minutes of skirting the highway we followed pretty much the same route we had trekked through the day before. It was a bit strange to watch all those miles pass by so wuickly, so smoothly.
At two thirty I got on my bus, yes the same one I would have taken from Piedrafita, and headed back to Madrid. I had about six hours ahead of me and I managed to survive the trip.
It was time to go back to work but I had caught the bug and had decided to return to Piedrafita and hike the four kms up to O'Cebreiro and from there continue the journey to Santiago de Compostela.
Day 5 - Easter Sunday, March 24th,
The day started well. The morning was crisp and sunny and augured well.
We all got up and got ready, heading out at about 8 AM. The idea was to stop at a bar for breakfast but, as it happened, no one else had bothered getting up that early and we had to head out without a hot drink or a fresh pastry. Oh, the life of a Pilgrim!
During the night it had snowed and there was a lovely coat of white on roofs and hillside. I had wished for snow at the start of the trip because I preferred it to rain. I had forgotten the old saying that goes something like: "careful what you wish for cause you might just get it". But that´s further down the line and off we went, leaving behind Sonia and Gonzalo and even Christine, who was spending the morning in the beautiful town before heading back to Madrid.
As with previous days, we separated as the miles passed by, some of us walking faster than others and walking along with our own thoughts. Unfortunately, most of the path followed the road and it ws not very interesting. An occasional detour into a charming little village provided a break in the scenery.
About ten kms further along Monica and Petrie caught up with me after I detoured into another village. We stopped for a late breakfast and then we headed off again, concerned about the gathering clouds and the villagers´comments regarding snow at the top of the mountain, the pass. I had been carrying a pretty heavy pack because I had brought extra things to wear (I expected a night out!) and heavier things than I needed. It seemed heavy but it did not bother me unduly or slow me down much at all. At the breakfast stop Petrie suggested wighing the damn thing and, foolisly, I followed her advice. It turned out I was carrying 13 kgs. All of a sudden it just seemed much too heavy and I lost my momentum. I was still ahead of the girls but not quite as much and my progress was slow and a bit laboured.
The miles went past and the scenery changed. I was heading up the hill and into the mountains that divede Leon from Galicia. It started to rain, then some light snow and the wind picked up. When I reached Herreira I was already at the snow line (lower this past week than much of the winter) and the scenery started taking on a lonely and forlorn air. No one passed me and I saw few cars. After passing another village I was on my own. No more cars or people to be seen. Very little visibility and more snow and wind plus a much steeper incline to add to my woes. In addition, that pack seemed to be getting heavier and heavier.
From then on it became a battle of wills. I was reluctant to risk being stuck below the summit because I didn't know how long it would take me to get down to the village where I had to catch my bus back to Madrid, and work, the following day. Each step seemed more difficult, my breathing got more ragged and I was not sure I could make it. There was no sign telling me how much further to the next village and no sign of life anywhere. I had passed La Fava and was heading to Laguna de Castilla, aboout 2.5 kms away. Those two and a half thousand metres of uphill torture seemed longer than I expected and my rest stop seemed ever further away.
Its at times like these that we draw on our hidden reserves, our hidden strengths. I sang songs like Waltzing Matilda, both the anthem and the Eric Bogle version, as well as other such national anthems and stirring tunes. Bellowing them out to the wilderness seemed to give me strength and kept me going. Another thing that helped was the fact that the poncho was pulled tight around my face and therefore I could concentrate on putting pne foot in front of the other, on step at the time. I also remembered one of the lines from "Galaxy Quest", a silly movie, a send up of the Space movies, . Repeating "Never Give up, Never Surrender" in the vein of Alan Rickman and the rest provided comic relief and inspiration in equal amounts.
I finally got to the village and found a welcoming inn, a resting place for my soaked and weary body. There was a fire in the grate, the smell of food and no one else to get in the way. I changed out of my wet clothes and spread out my things to dry. Unfortunately, I found I could not eat much at all and all I could manage to drink was the Aquarius that I hoped would restore the chemical balance of my inner liquids. Later I also managed a strong black coffee with a shot of orujo (the local aguardiente) that the owner insisted on adding in order to give me strength.
It was about then that we saw some shadows passing the fogged up windows and we raced outside to see who they were. It was two of the other travelers, two ladies from Murcia, who assured me that Monica and Ptrie were just behind them. Indeed they were. How happy I was to see them! They had a drink as well and off we headed into the whiteness. There was another forty minutes or so to go, as it turned out. We got to the top and could see nothing but some ghostly posts that gave no real indication of a track. We tried to keep to the middle of the vague suggestion of a road that some of the poles indicated. All of a sudden we heard the muffled sound of a powerful engine and some lights made faint by the blizzard. It was a great big snow plow that came to clear the road and show us the way to salvation.
All of a sudden we were thrown into a Christmas landscape. Sleighs and brightly coloured beanies, children screaming with pleasure and a adults grinning sheepishly because they did not want to seem to be enjoying themselves to much. What a change, what a difference a few feet made. We had reached our goal, we had walked about 30 kilometers, probably the hardest ones I could remember. We walked through the village admiring that winter wonderland that just a short time earlier had seemed so inhospitable and even disturbing. The hostel was big and new, it had heating and very hot showers with strong water pressure. Paradise!
After a shower and a rest we headed out to explore and to find a place for dinner. The cold I had been fending off for two days had finally caught up with me and I could not eat anything or even drink a glass of wine. I was really knackered but the girls were bearing up well in spite of the pains and bruises. I took some tablets and fell asleep rather early, hoping to recover for the morning's trek to the bus about four kms down the hill.
We all got up and got ready, heading out at about 8 AM. The idea was to stop at a bar for breakfast but, as it happened, no one else had bothered getting up that early and we had to head out without a hot drink or a fresh pastry. Oh, the life of a Pilgrim!
During the night it had snowed and there was a lovely coat of white on roofs and hillside. I had wished for snow at the start of the trip because I preferred it to rain. I had forgotten the old saying that goes something like: "careful what you wish for cause you might just get it". But that´s further down the line and off we went, leaving behind Sonia and Gonzalo and even Christine, who was spending the morning in the beautiful town before heading back to Madrid.
As with previous days, we separated as the miles passed by, some of us walking faster than others and walking along with our own thoughts. Unfortunately, most of the path followed the road and it ws not very interesting. An occasional detour into a charming little village provided a break in the scenery.
About ten kms further along Monica and Petrie caught up with me after I detoured into another village. We stopped for a late breakfast and then we headed off again, concerned about the gathering clouds and the villagers´comments regarding snow at the top of the mountain, the pass. I had been carrying a pretty heavy pack because I had brought extra things to wear (I expected a night out!) and heavier things than I needed. It seemed heavy but it did not bother me unduly or slow me down much at all. At the breakfast stop Petrie suggested wighing the damn thing and, foolisly, I followed her advice. It turned out I was carrying 13 kgs. All of a sudden it just seemed much too heavy and I lost my momentum. I was still ahead of the girls but not quite as much and my progress was slow and a bit laboured.
The miles went past and the scenery changed. I was heading up the hill and into the mountains that divede Leon from Galicia. It started to rain, then some light snow and the wind picked up. When I reached Herreira I was already at the snow line (lower this past week than much of the winter) and the scenery started taking on a lonely and forlorn air. No one passed me and I saw few cars. After passing another village I was on my own. No more cars or people to be seen. Very little visibility and more snow and wind plus a much steeper incline to add to my woes. In addition, that pack seemed to be getting heavier and heavier.
From then on it became a battle of wills. I was reluctant to risk being stuck below the summit because I didn't know how long it would take me to get down to the village where I had to catch my bus back to Madrid, and work, the following day. Each step seemed more difficult, my breathing got more ragged and I was not sure I could make it. There was no sign telling me how much further to the next village and no sign of life anywhere. I had passed La Fava and was heading to Laguna de Castilla, aboout 2.5 kms away. Those two and a half thousand metres of uphill torture seemed longer than I expected and my rest stop seemed ever further away.
Its at times like these that we draw on our hidden reserves, our hidden strengths. I sang songs like Waltzing Matilda, both the anthem and the Eric Bogle version, as well as other such national anthems and stirring tunes. Bellowing them out to the wilderness seemed to give me strength and kept me going. Another thing that helped was the fact that the poncho was pulled tight around my face and therefore I could concentrate on putting pne foot in front of the other, on step at the time. I also remembered one of the lines from "Galaxy Quest", a silly movie, a send up of the Space movies, . Repeating "Never Give up, Never Surrender" in the vein of Alan Rickman and the rest provided comic relief and inspiration in equal amounts.
I finally got to the village and found a welcoming inn, a resting place for my soaked and weary body. There was a fire in the grate, the smell of food and no one else to get in the way. I changed out of my wet clothes and spread out my things to dry. Unfortunately, I found I could not eat much at all and all I could manage to drink was the Aquarius that I hoped would restore the chemical balance of my inner liquids. Later I also managed a strong black coffee with a shot of orujo (the local aguardiente) that the owner insisted on adding in order to give me strength.
It was about then that we saw some shadows passing the fogged up windows and we raced outside to see who they were. It was two of the other travelers, two ladies from Murcia, who assured me that Monica and Ptrie were just behind them. Indeed they were. How happy I was to see them! They had a drink as well and off we headed into the whiteness. There was another forty minutes or so to go, as it turned out. We got to the top and could see nothing but some ghostly posts that gave no real indication of a track. We tried to keep to the middle of the vague suggestion of a road that some of the poles indicated. All of a sudden we heard the muffled sound of a powerful engine and some lights made faint by the blizzard. It was a great big snow plow that came to clear the road and show us the way to salvation.
All of a sudden we were thrown into a Christmas landscape. Sleighs and brightly coloured beanies, children screaming with pleasure and a adults grinning sheepishly because they did not want to seem to be enjoying themselves to much. What a change, what a difference a few feet made. We had reached our goal, we had walked about 30 kilometers, probably the hardest ones I could remember. We walked through the village admiring that winter wonderland that just a short time earlier had seemed so inhospitable and even disturbing. The hostel was big and new, it had heating and very hot showers with strong water pressure. Paradise!
After a shower and a rest we headed out to explore and to find a place for dinner. The cold I had been fending off for two days had finally caught up with me and I could not eat anything or even drink a glass of wine. I was really knackered but the girls were bearing up well in spite of the pains and bruises. I took some tablets and fell asleep rather early, hoping to recover for the morning's trek to the bus about four kms down the hill.
25 marzo, 2008
Day 4
Saturday Separations
During yesterday´s walk a few blisters appeared on several feet. Christine was done in by the stones, rocks and the gradient of the walk. Her shoes could not take it and her feet were sore. Sonia broke a nail that turned a nasty blue-red and looked infected and Gonzalo showed off a great big beauty under his foot. So all three retired and took the bus to Ponferrada and then on to Villafranca del Bierzo. Kim was going back to Madrid anyway so there were only Monica, Petrie and I on this leg (so to speak) of the trek.
Confession time. Today we carried our backpacks! On previous days we and other backpackers paid for our heavy packs to be taxied to our stopping place and delivered to the hostel. The fee came to about 5 € each time and was well worth it. Monica insisted on carrying her pack every day and was an inspiration to us all.
The day started miserably with rain and a cold wind. On the bright side was the fact that the walk was mainly downhill so for myself and Petrie the weight of the pack was not as great as it could have been. In Ponferrada we went to the bus station so that I could endorse my ticket from Villafranca back to Madrid over to Sonia and then we headed out of town. Ponferrada is a city that has a long history. The Romans had been here as well and the Templars and other Knights as well. There is a big castle, a cathedral and lots of other stuff to see. Well worth a visit and the food and wine of the Bierzo region are excellent.
After about an hour´s walk the girls had fallen behind and I was left to walk with only my thoughts for company. Not a bad thing, really and being cocooned in your rainproof poncho limits your field of view so that there is only you and the path for most of the way. Passing through small villages of varying beauty is interesting and pleasing to the eye as well as useful for the resting and refueling places they provide the weary traveler. The walk through the vineyards of the Bierzo is bucolic and the weather cleared enough for me to enjoy the scenery and take a few snaps. I was eventually glad to arrive at our stopping place, the Town Hall´s Pilgrim´s Rest just outside Villafranca del Bierzo. Unfortunately, I had already settled in and had a shower before I realized there was no heating in that place and that the forecast was not very pleasant at all. Still, it was comfortable, there was plenty of hot water and blankets galore.
When the ladies arrived about 40 minutes later we went into town to explore and to snap away. You can see the results on the side. The Sevilla restaurant was recommended and it turned out to be a good choice because the house wine was good and the food great value. Unfortunately, like in most Spanish restaurants, it was not hot. Generally speaking, if you want hot food it´s better to tell the,. Also, what I tend to do is to order just the first course and then the second when I´ve finished it. This way they cannot prepare both meals and leave the second to await your pleasure. It pisses off the kitchen but you do get a hotter steak or whatever.
This town is beautiful. Lots of narrow cobbled streets and alleys, pitched roofs and hills all around. Not sure whether the Romans made it out here but I wouldn't be surprised. ´The church is great and they were getting ready for a procession so we got to see all the carved figures sitting around waiting to be taken along the procession. Back at the hostal, we sat around for a while and then went to bed because the next day was going to be very difficult. As it turned out, we were not cold during the night and everyone slept soundly.
During yesterday´s walk a few blisters appeared on several feet. Christine was done in by the stones, rocks and the gradient of the walk. Her shoes could not take it and her feet were sore. Sonia broke a nail that turned a nasty blue-red and looked infected and Gonzalo showed off a great big beauty under his foot. So all three retired and took the bus to Ponferrada and then on to Villafranca del Bierzo. Kim was going back to Madrid anyway so there were only Monica, Petrie and I on this leg (so to speak) of the trek.
Confession time. Today we carried our backpacks! On previous days we and other backpackers paid for our heavy packs to be taxied to our stopping place and delivered to the hostel. The fee came to about 5 € each time and was well worth it. Monica insisted on carrying her pack every day and was an inspiration to us all.
The day started miserably with rain and a cold wind. On the bright side was the fact that the walk was mainly downhill so for myself and Petrie the weight of the pack was not as great as it could have been. In Ponferrada we went to the bus station so that I could endorse my ticket from Villafranca back to Madrid over to Sonia and then we headed out of town. Ponferrada is a city that has a long history. The Romans had been here as well and the Templars and other Knights as well. There is a big castle, a cathedral and lots of other stuff to see. Well worth a visit and the food and wine of the Bierzo region are excellent.
After about an hour´s walk the girls had fallen behind and I was left to walk with only my thoughts for company. Not a bad thing, really and being cocooned in your rainproof poncho limits your field of view so that there is only you and the path for most of the way. Passing through small villages of varying beauty is interesting and pleasing to the eye as well as useful for the resting and refueling places they provide the weary traveler. The walk through the vineyards of the Bierzo is bucolic and the weather cleared enough for me to enjoy the scenery and take a few snaps. I was eventually glad to arrive at our stopping place, the Town Hall´s Pilgrim´s Rest just outside Villafranca del Bierzo. Unfortunately, I had already settled in and had a shower before I realized there was no heating in that place and that the forecast was not very pleasant at all. Still, it was comfortable, there was plenty of hot water and blankets galore.
When the ladies arrived about 40 minutes later we went into town to explore and to snap away. You can see the results on the side. The Sevilla restaurant was recommended and it turned out to be a good choice because the house wine was good and the food great value. Unfortunately, like in most Spanish restaurants, it was not hot. Generally speaking, if you want hot food it´s better to tell the,. Also, what I tend to do is to order just the first course and then the second when I´ve finished it. This way they cannot prepare both meals and leave the second to await your pleasure. It pisses off the kitchen but you do get a hotter steak or whatever.
This town is beautiful. Lots of narrow cobbled streets and alleys, pitched roofs and hills all around. Not sure whether the Romans made it out here but I wouldn't be surprised. ´The church is great and they were getting ready for a procession so we got to see all the carved figures sitting around waiting to be taken along the procession. Back at the hostal, we sat around for a while and then went to bed because the next day was going to be very difficult. As it turned out, we were not cold during the night and everyone slept soundly.
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