A Night at the Museum ...

Day 3 on Camino.. 154 miles travelled from  Carrion de Los Condos to Ponferrada.

Another wonderful day, seen a lot, learned a lot.

Started well after a good night’s sleep, helped in the main I guess by the large glasses of wine I had last night at El Local or whatever it was called. Took the sage advice of walking past the bars with “Pilgrim” menus “and found one frequented by locals, well local men anyway. 

The place where as the drinks flow then absolute rubbish is spoken with absolute conviction with absolutely no knowledge. Eggs, potatoes, chorizo and salad and several glasses of wine for tuppence, brilliant. Bet it’s not in the guide book though.

And, as my language base now includes toast, ham and cheese I had a decent breakfast before setting off – still no friends though, unless you count the Camino and she’s a bit fickle.

Immediately we left my night stop at Carrion de los Condes she decided to clear off across country following an old Roman Road, the Via Aquitania which wasn’t built for motor bikes funnily enough. Was a bit disappointed as I was only 10 miles from the halfway point and wanted to be able to share it.

Half way - 390 km to go.

Well, ain’t it good when a plan comes together! My amazing map reading skills and nerdy planning let me shoot off and then intercept the Camino at Km 391 in a small, very small , hamlet Calzadilla de la Cueza – aren’t their names beautiful, we have Gunthorpe and Swinefleet.

Took time there to watch a few pilgrims come in on foot and bike, some punching the air as they got in, only another 390 km to go – did I mention my respect for them.

The Camino then let me travel with her for some 184 km to tonight’s stop, the first 130 across the dry, hot – it was 28 deg by then – plain and then climbing up through steep craggy woodland to the highest point on the Camino before dropping down again through the most fascinating villages I’ve ever experienced and certainly wouldn’t have discovered if The Camino hadn’t let me share her secrets.

Sometimes we travelled side by side but often now we shared the same road exactly.

 

I say road advisedly because being the woman she obviously is she did lead me on occasionally until I was well out of my comfort zone and had to turn back and go the more sensible route.

Still, nice spot to have a snack!

Again just spent the day riding and thinking - sometimes just riding -  and enjoying the various monuments, signs and symbols that adorn the Camino and wondering what stories lay behind them.

This one I think meant pack in and get a hire car!

At last I found some happy sunflowers, realised on closer reflection that they were happy because the main crop had been harversted and these were survivors celebrating their freedom, may they go on and breed more happy litl;e sunflowers, the world needs them more than vegetable oil!

I did note that the majority of people were on their own, yes there were couples and a few groups of 4 or 5 but mostly solo travellers. At one point - the Cruz de Ferro I saw a bus drop around 50 people off who were then led away by a guy in a big-game hunter’s jacket and hat. A guided walk presumably but looked more like a chain gang and not very enjoyable.

Mind you, if I am to be honest I have to admit that at this moment in time I don’t think I could find walking the whole Camino totally enjoyable. The scenery and solitude yes, in the country side but today I went through a coupe ofl large cities, Leon and Ponferrada and several large towns and here the Camino follows quite busy roads through industrial areas, less celoubrious neighbourhood and busty centrses bustling with traffic. Not my cup of tea.  

Passed the Cruz de Ferro at the top of the Camino, a pagan sight origionally I'm told but now one of the must do experiences is leave a stone from home on the increasing pilke and dedicate to family and friends. Quitecoincidently, when I visited my dad's grave in Haxey just before I left for this trip someone had put a stone on his headstone. Don't know who had put it there as it is not something we do as a family. Whoever it was, then I apologise as it seemed fate that I brought it with me and Froggy helped me put it on the cross.

Dropping down from that summit I went tgrough some of the most fascinating villages on the trip so far. In one, Acebo, the houses had amazing wooden balconies jutting out into the already narrow main (read only) street. Some with beautiful carvings.

 

Past this very macho looking rocket at the Artilliary HQ but it was not to be the only one   .... see below ...

The entrance to my stay for the night

Anyway, I go on ... Its not about arriving they say, it’s the getting there. Well that’s a good job cos when I  arrived I was faced with this, yes that second rocket I mentioned. A museum, or rather a defunct museum as it happened but yes, it was where I had booked on t’internet.

Seemed to be run a  guy who I though was my age but turns out to be 10 years older – look at that whichever way you choose and alady I initially assumed to be his wife, lets call them Jose and Maria.

Now there are about 12 rooms in this establishemnet and looks like I'm the only guest. Treated like a long lost relative I am – would I like dinner, yes I would please.Stay with me and bear in mind this is all taking place in broken Spanglais.

When I go down for dinner the theme of no friends continues. There are 9 tables, 8 set for 6, 1 set for 1, yep that’s me.  Menu, no menu Jose makes suggestions … and here is where I think it went wrong.

Proud as I’ve been of my vocabulary to date,  I haven’t really got past ham, cheese etc.  although as you know Im fluent in cheese in both Spanish and Basque.The finer points such as “and”  and “or” haven’t been touched so when Jose mentioned dishes I though “or” but he read ”and”.

The first course of dried meats, cheese, bread, wine – whole bottle, no label served with a flourish by Jose went down a treat.  Then came potatoes and some cooked animal served by Maria with a friendly “My treat” in English.  Not so good this, but so as not to offend, and assuming that was the main course I ate more than I really wanted. I looked up “I enjoyed that very much” on my phone and that comment was met with a smile from Maria. Enter Jose with a plate of ham, eggs, roast peppers and salad. Oh gawd.  I tried gamely.  No desert menu thankfully, but … enter Jose with the speciality “made with milk”.  Abiscuit in cutard, probably sounds better in Spanish.

Note to self- learn  “AND and “OR”.

I wrote that last night before the power went off and with it wi-fi and I meant it to be ammusing, making fun of both myself and I admit Jose.

Well, this morning came the humble pie. Turns out Jose real name Bernard Guerrero Reyero is a retired Paedeatrician and Professor of Medicine and runs a foundation school for children in The Gambia                     Bernards Foundation 

What can I say ....




Off to Sarria now, 120km away wher I leave my bike and start walking tomorrow. Getting anxious I admit.

Bye ...

Ps   poor internet and power cuts last night so rushed ....forgive typos.  J

A Peaceful Easy Feeling ...

Day 2 on Camino

Navarette to Carrion de los Condes    144miles, 10 more and I'm half way!

Another early start – for me – but as the hostel was actually on the Camino route I was aware of walkers passing below my window well before I was up and dressed.

When I did venture out of the front door at 6.30 it was still pitch black and this outwardly frail woman walking past stopped to ask me if she was on the right path. I saw she must have been at least 10 years older than me but  she marched off into the beam of her head torch with a determination I envied.

By the time I followed her - had my breakfast of bread, fresh figs and strong coffee and loaded the bike -  it was getting light.

A wonderfully peaceful day mostly spent riding immediately alongside the Camino or actually along it through the Rioja vineyards.

 This was thrilling as it is exactly what I wanted to do but it also increased both respect for those walking and apprehension for my own walk in 2 days’ time. 

Just riding along for mile after mile in the sun with no sign of civilisation from horizon to horizon – except of course for other pilgrims but although I saw more today than yesterday there were still times when I was on my own – was daunting, thought provoking and humbling,  but I guess that’s what it is all about.

 "Sometimes we are called to dance on the wild edges of our lives and discover something new, or we have a sense that our lives have grown too small so we need to confront our fears of what is unknown, we need to welcome in strangeness to crack open unfamiliar parts of ourselves ….." ~ Christine Paintner, on Pilgrimage

There were two things I wanted specifically do today and the both were to start at Santo Domingo de la Calzada.

One was to cross the Rio Oja which supposedly gave its name to wine region and the other was to find out more about the saint the town was named after.

The two are liked in that Domingo Garcia who became Santo Domingo de la Calzada.was born in Viloria de Rioja in 1019 and although he wanted to devote his life to God and tried to enter the monasteries he wasn’t accepted. So, around the year 1040 he became a hermit in the forests which occupied the site on which this city now stands. From his home he was able to see how difficult the pilgrimage was for those undertaking it and he began to work to help them by building a bridge to cross the Oja River and a hospital where pilgrims could seek shelter, both at the town which now bears his name.

I’m a bit vague on why and how he became a saint but one of the miracles attributed to him concerns two chickens, well actually a rooster and a hen.

Word has it that the son of German pilgrims was hanged for a crime he didn’t commit but when the parents went  to see their son’s body he tells them he is still alive having been saved by the Saint who supported his body. The parents apparently rush off to the magistrate to ask for their son’s pardon and release but the magistrate, who is having his tea tells them to go away as their son is as dead as the two cooked chickens on his table. At which point the two cooked fowl jump up and start doing what live chickens do.

The Chicken coop in the Cathedral

In memory of this miracle a live rooster and hen are kept in the most ornate chicken coop you’ve seen in the cathedral. For animal lovers there are actually several couples – all reputedly descendants of aforementioned cooked chickens - and they work a shift system.

To get back to the river, I have a thing about crossing rivers when I travel, there is something that makes me feel connected with the river’s story – the Mississippi, the Rio Grande, the Nile, all bring back great memories … well I wanted to cross the Oja  ... and I like the wine!

I found the main crossing just outside Santo Domingo de la Calzada. The bridge had been renovated and restored several times – a bit like Trigger’s broom (for my colonial friends, that’s another story, see me afterwards).

The bridge and the shrine were beautiful, the river less so ….. but it was the dry season.

 I did find the river again accidently when I got lost ....

and it did have water at that spot.

Crossing the river I rode on to Viloria de Rioja to see where Domingo was born. It is a fascinating small hamlet, smack on the Camino.

 St Domingo de la Calzada.

 They are celebrating his 1000^th anniversary – not a small thing you’d think -    but the church where he was christened was shut and the only facility available for the scores of pilgrims resting there was a water tap.

I am still amazed at the wide range of people walking, some seemingly out for a stroll with just a walking stick yet miles from anywhere and others carrying rucksacks nearly as big as they are  (that’ll be me!).

A bit far away, but this guy had the right idea  ... let someone else do the donkey work!





And finally, I'm pleased to see that they appreciate real culture in this part of the world ....

In celebration of "Arado Oxidado"

Here is where I am tonight.....

                            A bit wordy today isn't it. Sorry. Talk again tomorrow ....

A day of ups and downs ......

Off I go on the Camino proper!

 And what a day of mixed emotions it has been … and a very steep learning curve. I will expand.

 I got up late apparently, 6.30 and already there were people closing doors slowly as they set off walking. I’d planned a leisurely breakfast at 7 – I’d paid my 5 euros for it, I was going to have it – not that it would have fuelled me very far if I had been walking, but the coffee was welcome.

I rode to the accepted start point – the Porte d’Espagne for a corny photo but actually there aint’t much left of it, just the two pillars and they don’t command much respect from the local given the parking situation. But it had to be done.

First emotion – there were scores of pilgrims setting off walking and the first part of the route is a narrow, very steep  road into the hills.  As I climbed along it on a very powerful bike I felt such a fraud and so unworthy – it was hard work just riding along – I soon realised that anyone tackling the Camino on foot deserves our utmost respect. 

Not the macho image I want to portray but I admit it was scary. The road was strewn with mud and debris from the horrendous storm last night and lovely as my bike is it is not meant for that kind of terrain. I felt in the way too because it was a lovely peaceful and still morning and some of those those brave souls were on a pilgmage for meditation and contemplation which didn’t include worrying about some oik on a bike clipping them from behind.

So, 30 minutes after setting off on a trip I’d dreamed of for several years I was thinking I can’t do this, and even if I struggle on I’m not enjoying it.

However whilst the feeling  of respect grew over the day the apprehension and the sense of being in the way evaporated as the number of walkers declined and the Camino decided to head for the hills on occasions.

I actually began to enjoy the ride and relaxed enough to enjoy views like this …

My euphoria was short lived, as I crossed the border into Spain it began to rain – and no, at that stage not a plain in sight which shoots another myth down. I stopped to put a cover on my tank bag behind a guy who I think was Japanese and told me he was cycling all the way to Santiago.

 I found that hard to believe given his lack of kit but he kept insisting it was “a big deal, a big deal” and he had to get on as he wrapped himself in a cling-film mac and pedalled manically away. I wonder where he is tonight.

It became clear that the Camino ran along paved roads for more of its length that I realised with signs warning drivers – and riders – that there would be walkers in the road.

Other signs then guided the walkers down tracks which initially appeared inviting but as the rain cleared and the day grew hotter, the hills and forests receded and the plains opened up it would be a toss-up for me whether I stayed on the tarmac or took to the barren landscape with an horizon which seemed a heart-breaking distance away. 

The road at those times took on a similarity to iconic photos of Route 66.

I’m struggling a bit with the language. On a bike “Una cerveza grande por favour” has its limitations.  I do try though and spent time rehearsing the Spanish for goat  “ cabra” – no not in relation to “possible friendship and more” but because I like the cheese.  When I plucked up courage to try it out the very nice waitress told me I was in Basque country and it is “ahuntz”.  The sarnie was still good though.

As towns came into view their dramatic skylines just presented one Kodak moment – remember them – after another. That the reality on getting closer didn’t always meet the expectation says a lot about Spanish planning law.

Pamplona came and went ...

Some though did deliver….

... and stopping for one “moment” I noticed a couple of house doors had similar varieties of dried flowers tied  to them.

My nerdy research reveals that they are the dwarf thistle (Carlina acaulis) created by the Supreme Creator Amular to brighten up the world when the sun and moon were rising and setting. Basque folklore suggests that they serve as protection and bring good luck.  Gets my vote …

You’ll be impressed to learn I hope that I actually got off my bike and walked a section of the Camino today. Yes, well I did, this bit.



Why, well I wanted to experience one of the delights of the Camino – other than bed-bugs and blisters – The Wine Fountain.

No, this is not another myth to be busted, it’s there and you can fill your boots, or your water bottle although traditionally (if creation in 1991 can be considered traditional) you should use your Scallop shell. Well, mine was in my bike 300 yards away ( I didn’t say I walked far!) so I used my water bottle.

The wine was exceptionally good but as it comes directly out of the Bodegas Irache winery it would be pretty bad advertising to put rubbish out there.I honestly only got a mouthful as I was riding but obviously some have taken advantage as there is now a webcam aimed at the fountain. A great experience though and another “to do” ticked off.

Arrived at my digs for the night in Navaterre in the Rioja region and again eschewing the “real deal” hostel experience I’ve paid pence extra for my own room. Got three beds in it though with pillows marked, “Be Happy”, “Laugh" and “Love”. 

I asked for reassurance that I was getting the room to myself and the hostess said “Yes, unless you want otherwise”. She obviously does not know of my “Friends” issue.

More importantly she let me put my bike in a barn for the night.

                           Mind you,on reflection, perhaps motorcycle maintenace is her forte ...       

Rode 206  km today and covered a walking distance along the Camino of 170km odd so you can see how the Camino custs cornes.




Here's where I am, 

                                                                     well by the time you read this proably in a local bar .....