Villarente

Hello, everyone.

We left El Burgo Ranero bright and early as usual, leaving the key to the room in the door as requested. I hd been afraid that the day would be stormy and wet, but aside from a few sprinkles there was no rain. By late morning the san came out. It was not yet noon when we hit Mansilla de las Mulas, so we kept on to Villarente.
This town is not an end-point on the Brierly map set, but it seemed to us to be more active economically than Mansilla. (I can't tell the relative population, because the map doesn't give a figure for Villarente.) There we stayed at the Albergue San Pelayo, which isn't on the main drag, but on the street behind. Follow the yellow arrow on the side street, bend left and go uphill a ways. Ignore the perfume of the barn that must be behind one of the walls--it doesn't carry on to the albergue anyway. Pretty, grassy garden area with clotheslines in the sun (not  under a roof) and also an eating place. Friendly hospitalera, too!

Pretty irrigation canal (maybe just a controlled stream? But it's awfully straight) en route. In the background, another one of the many planted woodlots we saw everywhere.

A family wine cellar, dug into a hill. There are many of these along the Camino.

Prices of fuel by the liter (basically a quart). These were typical. Ouch.

The next morning, we left at our usual time and walked the 13 km to Leon. About 8 or 8:30 we heard a pounding, penetrating bass beat: DUM  DUM  DUM. As it was a Sunday, we were surprised and didn't know what it might be. As we hit the city, though, it faded from our awareness. Imagine our surprise, later in the day, to find that across the street from the post office, in the middle of everything, the ladies were having Zumba In The Park. Apparently it had started early, too.

Zumba! In Leon, Spain, on Sunday

Onward, always onward

Hello, everyone.

Before I forget, I want to mention one other thing about Carreon de los Condes: there was an American hospitalera there. She was talking about her pilgrimage with us--it was rain, rain, rain and when she walked the hills by Atapuerca it was nothing but wet, sticky clay. And she is active in American Pilgrims on the Camino--they do conventions, apparently. She was working there for two weeks, she told us, and then she'd do two more weeks in Santiago. "Maybe I'll see you there," she said.

But back to getting in to Sahagun:

View from the trail toward a small range of hills in the midst of the meseta

Lovely little chapel/ermita (Virgen del Puente?) at end of medieval bridge--note the stone surface.

What is left of the medieval walls of Sahagun. The city was sacked by Al-mansur and had to be resettled from scratch later.

 

Santiago watching us as we go by

Many of the houses in the old town had tile murals by the door.

We had intended to find a post office in Sahagun, a biggish city according to the guidebook, and mail unneeded things home. We walked all the way through and didn't see it--there were historical monuments, including the ruins of an old monastery from when Sahagun was first occupied, which we enjoyed seeing. But the vagaries of the Camino trail routing, plus our lack of a map, meant that we had neither sight of a post office nor any idea where it might be. And it was much too early to stop for the day--only about 10:30 if I remember it right.

We kept on, veered left onto the graded roadside path (Real Camino Frances instead of the "natural path" through Calzadilla de los Hermanillos) when the trail split, and after much buffeting by wind got to El Burgo Ranero about 3. There are several albergues in this town, which sits on top of a mesa. Every one of them was full.

We got a room ("habitation") at the hostel over one of the bars instead. Sheets! A real bed! And our own bathroom with our own shower. Luxury.

At the other bar, we ate the menu del dia, which included Garlic Soup Leon Style (yum! and a poached egg on top) which almost filled me up by itself.

That night, the promise made by the strong south winds was fulfilled. A blue norther blew in at bedtime, and the patio outside the window made moving-chair noises off and on until about 3 in the morning, along with the pounding rain and the lightning. I was just grateful that the storm had waited until we went to bed, and grateful again when it stopped before we had to get up.

I was homesick, but I knew the only way home was through Santiago and to Madrid for our plane reservations three weeks or so in the future. We had about 355 km to go to Santiago.

A Long Morning

Hello, everyone.

We left Carreon de los Condes at 6:45 am, trusting to luck that a bar with cafe leche and bocadillos would turn up in an hour or two. No such luck. Our first shot at food--real food, that is--was 18 km down the trail in Cazadilla de las Cuevas. Before that, feeling the empty, we shared a couple of my sweetie's Oreos and an apple that he cut up as we walked. The land was mostly flat--a symphony of greens and golds--and I got some pictures as we went along.

Wheat all around--very peaceful

That tiny red spot in the distance is my sweetie!

First swallow nests I saw in Spain!

We stopped for the night at Terradillos de los Templarios. The albergue is named after Jacques DeMolay, the last head of the Templars. The albergue had a lovely garden patio, with roses, and also a well where I slapped laundry on, not a rock exactly, but a plastic laundry tub. With cold water.

Doing the laundry old-school. I'm in the orange shirt.

 But the weather was good, and the clothes dried on the line. Our Bufferin was starting to run low by now. (We'd been taking 2 at bedtime to bring down foot swelling so the muscles could flush out toxins during the sleep hours.) The bunks were made of wood (solidly made) instead of iron. The hospitaleros had a cena (supper) and I ate rabbit for the first time. It was good.

We had planned to walk the next day to Sahagun, but things worked out differently in the end. (Don't they always?) But that is stuff for another post. This one is long enough.

Carreon de los Condes

Hello, everyone.

We left the Heavy Metal Village (also called Hippie Hollow around our house) earlyin the morning. We walked to Carreon de los Condes and found ourselves a pair of top bunks at the Augustinas' convent. These ladies were into the whole togetherness thing. They had a meeting with self-introductions and singing before dinner, then dinner was a potluck affair (they had made a soup with some meat and potatoes--I know why they were all skinny!) and then after dinner we went to Mass at the nearby church. We had gotten in about 2:30 in the afternoon, so I had some time to figure out how to get up to the top bunk by myself. Ladders really aren't my favorite thing, but I got myself straightened out and coped with it. A few days later I was glad that I had done so, as I got another top bunk.

Another beautiful retablo. The ladies really went all-out on the flowers!

I think this was a dovecote. The little things at the top were all small-bird-sized openings.

My sweetie with Santiago

We had enjoyed another day of warm weather. I do want to mention, in case I haven't already, that when you turn on the sink faucets in Spain--like when you help out with the dishes in the nuns' kitchen--the hot water is really, really hot. They don't seem to have the regulation about maximum water temperature settings there that I was used to in the States.
What was our contribution to the potluck? While I tended to our laundry, my sweetie strolled the groceries and came back with canned sardines and cream cheese and a loaf of baguette: snickeldrip! Yum.

Heavy Metal Zone

Hello, everyone.

We left Hontanas about 7:10 am, which was late for us. The day was clear and pleasant, not too cold nor too warm. We walked through fields and around mesas and past Castrojeriz:

 There is a castle on a nearby mesa that protected the area.

 We also walked over one mesa that was, well, difficult. The trail had signs before both the climb to the top:

Slogging uphill at 12 degrees of slope

 

 

Copy of the slope sign for people going the other way!

And also the 18 degree descent to the bottom (again, the sign pic is to show off that we completed the slope!)

The downhill side was a cement path, about as wide as a small road, and I had to zigzag it to keep my toes from being completely beaten to pieces inside my boots. I kept stopping to look back, too, because I was afraid that a bike pilgrim would be coming down, and be unable to go around me at the high speed the bike would surely hit. All in all, I was very glad to get to the bottom of that path!

We continued on, reaching the border of the province and stopping for the night in Itero de la Vega. This small village, we discovered, is the site of a heavy metal festival every August. The young fellows who ran the albergue we stayed at were metalheads, too. The walls resounded with the THUD THUD of the music being listened to by the one who was doing reception in the afternoon. Some friends of theirs had a bar and we were given samples of their herbal liqueur after dinner. It was strongly fennel-and-apple in the taste.

The next day we left early and headed on down the road. When we stopped for cafe leche, at a little eat place out in the middle of wherever, I heard the sound of home: a lady came in with her family and she asked the bartender for "jugo de naranja." (In Spain, we had discovered, nobody says "jugo." They all say "zumo.") Just the sound of it was refreshing.

Hontanas

Hello, everyone.

We left Burgos early on Monday morning, after putting the room key on the table in the room. (We had asked the night before what they wanted us to do with it, "porque vamos muy temprano.") As usual there wasn't much going on at 6:30 or 7.
We got turned around while following yellow arrows on pavement at one point, and someone saw us and pointed the way. And we saw an old waymarker that was neat looking:

Waymarker on the way out of Burgos. Note the shells on the Cross of Santiago and the top of the pillar.

Shortly we were on the meseta. When I called it the Kansas of Spain a few weeks back, I wasn't joking. We had good weather for all the the meseta walking we did--sunshine, rain that restricted itself to after bedtime, moderate temperatures. (Actually the same temperatures that had been so cold in Pamplona--we had adapted to the 17C and 19C and as long as the sun shone we were fine.)

 The province has improved the pilgrim pathways. The surface is compressed caliche and there are very few rocks sticking up through the surface. I saw a lot of miffed comments in the guidebooks about this. The authors--I particularly noticed it with the Brierly guide--prefer "natural" paths. By which I guess they mean lumpy things with rocks sticking through every which way and unimproved mud surfaces that go to slop if there is rain. I had walked on their "natural paths" already and greatly preferred these. Not having to stress out about where to put my feet was a relief.Being able to stretch out my legs and go my natural pace also felt better than having to perch unsteadily on various rocks while going downhill.

The walk to Hontanas was about 20 miles.

On another subject, I am setting up a shop at Cafe Press so anyone that wants a copy of some of the pictures we took can get one. The Burgos waymarker above is one of the shots I used. The name of the shop is Texas Wanderer on the Camino, if anyone wants to look it up. (And I hope that it actually shows up on a search. I'm still new to all this stuff!)

More on Burgos

Hello, everyone.

I have dug around in our receipts and maps and other copies of this-n-that and discovered the name of that lovely little apartment-hotel we stayed in: Maria Salome Aparthotel. They gave us a discount because of being pilgrims--the discounted rate was 55 euro a night. If you are there and want to find them, look on San Lorenzo street, the sign for the hotel tells you which bar to ask in. (A surprising number of these small lodging places are run by bar owners' families.) They are included on the list of hotels on the city map from the tourist information office.

The route of the Camino Frances--the route we were following--is also marked on the map with yellow dashes. We still got turned around while leaving the city.

As you can see, the cathedral of Burgos is still a working church.

 The cathedral is both an art museum and a working church. The art is wonderful. The tomb of el Cid and is wife is also there. The remains were moved years after their deaths when a later king wanted to honor him.

The tomb of el Cid, who was from Burgos.

We went to Sunday Mass at the church of San Lesmes Abbad (St. Lesmes the Abbot) and saw a unique retablo. It was elaborately carved, like almost all of them, and it had polychrome statues of saints, like almost all of them, but it wasn't gold-leafed. It was carved from dark wood--either ebony or walnut--and left in its native color. It is, of course, quite tall and the parts out of normal reach are dusty. It made me think of Jean, the lady in the Altar Society who gets up on the thirty foot tall ladder to dust high-up things. I think Jean would have only been able to reach about half of this with that ladder, though. I suspect that once a year they bring in scaffolding to clean it.

The retablo of San Lesmes Abbad.

I hope these little bits about Burgos will inspire you, if you are in that area, to spend a day or three exploring the city. We enjoyed it a lot. We especially loved the yogurt shop that we found just inside the gate to the old city...sorry, no picture and we don't know any more than that about the address...but the yogurt was wonderful, both the frozen and the jars of fresh yogurt we bought to eat before leaving on Monday morning.