Leaving Hornillos at dawn.

Light from rising sun hitting hills to the west. Vast, green fields of wheat.

Passed through the village of Hontanas. Like Hornillos, in a curious location down in a circular bowl or depression. So not visible until it magically appears, at the last minute.

Then came to this place – the ruins of a 14th Century Monastery and pilgrim hospital called San Anton. The remains are beautiful to walk through. There were some friendly volunteers present who run a small albergue to maintain the tradition. The ‘Tau’ cross is much in evidence here .

Carvings at San Anton.

Nearing Castrojeriz. The fort on the top of the hill was destroyed in the great earthquake of 1755, which more famously did so much damage to Lisbon. The actual town is to the left.

Walking down a long street of Castrojeriz to find municipal albergue at the other end of town. It’s picturesque, however at this point I am feeling somewhat hot, tired and dehydrated.

Just up these stairs now …

View from porch of albergue, where pilgrims hang out. After more conversation, some turn out to be dealing with serious medical issues, which I will not go into for reasons of privacy.

At dinner outside at a local restaurant, L. showed some of his interesting photo artwork from Milan, on his phone.

 Took a bus back from Sarria to Burgos, to walk the Meseta section of the Camino Frances, on my own. The Meseta is relatively flat and featureless geographically, and some people ride it with bikes or skip it altogether. 

I stay in the Burgos municipal albergue, which is large, multistoried, and modern. Since I made this unusual move backwards to here from Sarria, I don’t know anyone here and will start to recognize a different group of people. 

In the albergue at breakfast time I met an 80-something Asian lady from San Francisco walking this alone, sending her backpack ahead, and I. from Bielefeld, who helped me find where I was supposed to be when I got briefly lost in the labyrinth of the dormitory.

The way out of Burgos is much less extensive in terms of suburbs to get through. Soon I found myself in a broad, green landscape of wheat.  A cool, fresh breeze is blowing.

I stopped at a café and met a group of five middle-aged American guys from Virginia. All very friendly and it was nice to walk for a while afterwards and chat with them. I did not see much of them later as they planned to walk further that day.

The way continued on and there was no sight of the expected destination town (Hornillos de Camino). At last though, the town appears down in a sort of circular valley. Standing there taking in the view, I meet a Canadian who starts talking to me non-stop, seemingly a bit unstable. 

After stopping at a small shop for food, I find the town’s albergue. The hospitalero is a friendly, rangy Italian man with long hair, partially dyed blue.

 The albergue is next to the local church. As I sit outside the albergue to rest and eat, surrounded by hungry cats, someone appears on a bike, takes out a guitar and starts playing some beautiful flamenco chords in an alcove of the church. 

Sitting outside there I also meet people who I will come across later on the way – L. from Milan (a talented artist and photographer who has done 10 Camino walks) , E. and M. from Germany, I. from Bielefeld, E. from France, and O. from Barcelona.

 The Asian lady from San Francisco appears, late in the day, exhausted. She is told that the albergue is full and that she needs to keep walking to find someplace else, even though she had sent her backpack here (and now has to actually carry it.)

 

 

 

 Walked mainly with B. today. K. still injured.

 

A cyclist on the way.

In a forest that we passed through.

 

San Juan de Ortega consists essentially of just this church, and a large former monastery now partially converted to a pilgrim accommodation, a restaurant, and a bar.  The restoration of the rest of the monastery looks like it will result in something beautiful. The project has apparently been underway for some time. It was mentioned in the book “Off the Road” by Jack Hitt, written in the 1990s.

The restaurant was taken over by a bus tour for dinner. We had met the bus tour earlier in the day. Nice people, from Ireland.  They have been doing this for 20 years , for a cause related to a disability condition. Some people on the tour have this condition themselves .

Since we decided not to have the albergue pilgrim menu, that left the bar as only other option. The bar turned  to have just two people on staff – a relaxed but distracted man at the bar, and an overworked lady doing all the cooking. During  a long wait in the bar just to order, we (B. and G.) met a young guy with a guitar on his back, who said he was going to walk to Burgos still that evening, which seemed astonishing because Burgos was a normal days walk away, and it was already evening. After a second eternity we received our food and in the meantime chatted with a nice couple from Ireland who I had met in a cafe in Logroño. 

 

 

 

 

 

This is the scene leaving Santo Domingo de la Calzada. I left while it was still dark. Why, you may be wondering? Consider that I woke up in a room with others, who are rustling/walking around and shining flashlights. And that there is no breakfast available in the albergue or even in the town, until later in the morning. So best to start walking to find something to eat , some km down the road. Which I did, in a friendly but non-photogenic food truck, not shown here.

 This is the landscape near Grañón, the town which, for some unaccountable reason, I was so intent on reaching, the day before.

Pimientos drying right on the street in Belorado.

This is where in ancient times , pilgrims went swimming and checked their e-mail.

Actually it is the back yard of a wonderful albergue in Belorado. One of the nicest ones I stayed in. J. and A. went swimming. In addition to this back yard,  there were comfortable and colorfully decorated rooms , and a three course communal pilgrim’s menu dinner (soup, main course , dessert) that was enjoyable. I was randomly seated with 3 others that I didn’t know. One (J. a 30-something building contractor from London) mentions that he ran with the bulls back in Viana. Another is an older Italian man who doesn’t speak English. The third person, a Brazilian lady, can translate Italian, so to be polite I ask him some questions. It turns out that he has walked the Camino Frances more than 10 times over decades. I asked him what was different when he first walked, and he said that there were many fewer accommodations. Just one per town.

Albergue Cuatro Cantones

 

I start walking, and almost immediately find myself on the iphone while underway , What’s App-ing with new camino friends as to where they plan to stay for the night, and looking at booking.com.
I don’t believe that the pilgrims in the middle ages did it this way. Although they are always depicted with just one walking staff  … maybe the other hand was available for a smart phone! Anyway, so much for the intrepid solo pilgrim journey today.

Doing some impromptu stage planning, in order that I reach Burgos by a certain date, in order to meet family and friend further on. I become convinced that I need to get to the town of Grañón today. On the way I pass a really nice cafe with some friendly people seated there who I had met before, who invite me to join. I decline explaining my really important mission to Grañón. This turns out to be a really silly reaction, because I just get hot and tired and don’t make it to Grañón anyway, and never see these people again.

I do decide to stop in the town of Santo Domingo de la Calzada. There is a square just outside the albergue with restaurant tables, where pilgrims  congregate for lunch and dinner (Plaza de la Alameda)

Santo Domingo de la Calzada

I sit with A. and J. at a table on the square. Then, not sure if they wanted any company. They have just met, but both have the same degree of poshness in their English accents. And both fast walkers. A. an accomplished swimmer.

I also see L. and K. there in the square also. It turns out that they are carrying 14 kilo packs on the Camino! Most often people carry < 10 kilos. Yet they are fast paced on the road.

At dinner there is more of a group collected including G. from USA.  (D. and I had met him in a bar on the Logroño tapas street, called Calle Laurel, along with B. and K. from Puente la Reina.)  I see F. from Ireland , met at Nájera as as well, who comes over to our table .

B. and K.  are staying in the same albergue in Santo Domingo de la Calzada.  K. now has leg injury to the point that she can’t walk next stage. Every step is hurting. Went to a physio, has blue tape on, in the way I see others have here in Europe.

Santo Domingo de la Calzada has a cathedral which contains live chickens, due to the fact that there is a fable based on chickens coming back to life, which is told in this area.

I go around but its not open because of a local religious holiday.  Later it is open, but they want 5 euros. I don’t go in.
I report this at dinner in the square and one German pilgrim notes – one could get a tortilla and a Clara Limon for those 5 euros! Good point, very practical. I mention that my guidebook says that one should allocate at least an hour for time in the cathedral. This gets a hearty laugh all around.

This is an example of a rather marked lack of interest in sightseeing or visiting places of cultural significance that I noted (at least among pilgrims I met.)

In this case,  I concur – as far as I can see, the town is attempting to turn this fable into a tourist trap and cash cow.

 I am walking on my own today. D. is skipping ahead by train so that he can see certain highlights along the way within the time allotted. I prefer to walk along the path continuously, and hope that I can return later to walk the rest of the way.

According to Paul Theroux, ” Tourists don’t know where they’ve been, travelers don’t know where they’re going. ” Well according to that, I will not quite have traveler status today, because I do know that I will be walking the Camino Frances path. However, I don’t yet know where I will be stopping today, in which albergue or even in which town.

So onto the classic wide, dirt Camino path.
Some  cyclists pass  – this section of the Camino is a part of an “EuroVelo” (long distance cycling) route as well.

Listened to my Camino playlist 

Out by myself, with other pilgrims about 1km ahead and behind. While looking at the Euro Velo map , I hear from behind me “Take a picture!”. I turn around and see a guy  running up with a day pack and multicolored leggings, with his iPhone out. He turns to the side and says “Siri take a picture!” then turns to the other side, calls Siri take a picture!”, then runs off ahead into the distance.

I decide to stop in Nájera, because I am arriving there at an early enough time such that I could get a bed in the municipal albergue. Just before I get to the albergue hot, tired and thirsty, I see F. from Ireland and some of his friends such as A. and J. from England, at a bar. F. is between jobs and tells me “no one has figured it out”. I meet up with them later (at the same bar) and we have dinner outside at a pizza restaurant. F. is vegan and is looking for someone to eat a vegan pizza with him, I make the sacrifice … It seems that all other restaurants in  the town are closed, it turns out that there is some kind of local festival happening. We, being rather uninformed, don’t find out for sure what it is, but we definitely hear loud techno music booming out from somewhere in the town, until at least 4 AM, as measured by my watch, when woken up at that time.

A. and C. appear in same albergue as me. One pilgrim from dinner has decided to do a “double” stage (40km) the next day, and leaves quite early , still in full darkness .

 Leaving Los Arcos,  D. and I soon see the town of Sansol on one of the hills in the undulating landscape. And after that town, one called Viana.
As we enter Viana, we notice that the locals are dressed in bright red and white costumes. On a street someone is cooking a red stew in a wide vat. As we get to the town center, there are more and more people in increasing excitement. We are stopped and are advised not to continue down the the camino (which is the main street here) right now, because bulls are about run down it towards us! One pilgrim (L.) is distressed because they think there is going to be a bullfight.  I don’t anticipate that any animals will be harmed, but on the other hand I don’t know what is happening here either.

People start running towards us, with bulls charging behind. The bulls then run into a large enclosure, surrounded by cheering crowds. The bulls (actually steers, I am told) then walk around and appear vaguely annoyed. Local men yell at the “bulls” trying to get a reaction out of them, but get only reproachful looks.

Before long, I see the backs of the bulls as they run back down the street. (Much later on the Camino I meet a 20-something English pilgrim who said that he ran with bulls here.)

 

I received a sincere “Buen Camino” from a local person when crossing the bridge in Logroño.

I had carefully curated and packed an assemblage of small bottles of soap, shampoo, lotion , shaving cream and other personal items. Once I arrived in Logroño I determined that I had, with exemplary comprehensiveness, left all of them behind in Los Arcos, along with some clothing as well. This I attribute to insufficient skill in packing in the dark, in crowded conditions, before coffee. I locate a pharmacy where a friendly person helps restore what I lost.

On the Camino I will encounter three classic  types of things which can be left behind easily (and I did all 3) :  1) toiletries in communal shower/sink area 2) clothes left on the line to dry and 3) Power adapters plugged into the wall. As well as of course, hiking poles.

 

At this albergue I first met people that I would meet again later on the Camino, such as L. and K.

 

 The morning was grey and drizzly as D. and I  made our way out of Estella on grimy streets. There is an unusual “fountain of wine” structure on the outskirts of the town. Since we were encountering this early in the morning, we investigated but did not partake of much.

From there the way winds over and around broad fields of barley and wheat, turned brown and cut short now in September. We have have views before us and behind us for some kilometers, with pilgrims dotting the path every few hundred meters.

Our destination is the albergue in Los Arcos. It is a municipal albergue, that is, one administered by the town. Like the others of this class, it has a no-reservations policy – you have to physically be there in order to register. Thus there is some amount of tension each time as to whether there will be space, when a lot of people are on the Camino. The alternative is to book everything in advance at private albergues or hotels. However there is a loss of flexibility, spontaneity and freedom with that approach. On the other hand again, we have to keep moving in order to be in Los Arcos in the first hour or so after the albergue open in the early afternoon. This is an example of what is sometimes known as a “bed race”.

We get to Los Arcos, and find the albergue, with a long line of pilgrims already waiting outside. Periodically the hospitalera (a Dutch lady) comes out and makes a long announcement (in Dutch). The main point seems to be that either the people already here will have a roof over our heads here tonight, or we won’t (I am unable to figure out which). The line moves very slowly but eventually we find a place. I see later that the albergue does end up completely full. We meet  new people such as a Japanese couple, and some people from before such as the English poet.

One does hand-washing of clothes almost every day, because we only have 2 ( or at most 3 ) of any clothing item. I had washed some clothes and hung them out to dry, but came out later to find that they were gone! After a minute I realize that someone has kindly moved them under an awning nearby (there was a rain squall in the afternoon.)

 

 

 

I am finding it amazing how people leave the albergue so early.  We can wake up at 6 AM in a  dormitory-style room, and find that half the beds are now empty. It’s not so easy to achieve this quietly, when you realize that there can be 10-12 people in sometimes absurdly close proximity. And since I assume that these pilgrims are not sleeping with their backpacks already on, they will have to get everything into the pack, in the dark. Even with the austere and lightweight pilgrim packing style, there are many items to keep track of.  Then brushing teeth, and perhaps having something to eat and drink. Nevertheless, I don’t notice these early risers – at the most I wake up briefly and see a figure with a dimmed headlamp moving in the darkness, out of the room, at perhaps 4:30 AM.

We don’t leave quite so early as that, but it is still before sunrise when we make our way back past the bridge at Puente la Reina, and resume the path westwards. We pause a moment to appreciate the view of the dawn over the town.

What makes the landscape here so picturesque, is that it is neither flat, nor very mountainous. Instead, there are broad plains and hills. This makes for a continuous series of inspiring views. The towns are clusters of stone buildings perched on the hills. In these towns,for example in Cirauqui, there are old doors to be seen which are quite striking.

Walking today with D. and L.  We stopped three times to have Clara Limon, which is a mixture of beer and lemonade (or lemon soda). Also known as Shandy, or Radler. A great choice for hiking in hot weather.

In the kitchen of the albergue ask if I can sit in a spot at the table and a friendly Greek man says, “in my country, we have a saying, ‘there is always room for good people’ ” .