La Faba

La Faba is a small hamlet tucked beneath the crest of O'Cebreiro in the Galician Monte del Bocelo. The 13th day was all rain and with elevation the rain turned to spitting snow and sleet. I stumbled into the first shelter I found, "El Refugio" and there I was warmly greeted by Miguel and given some hot tea.

Looking around, El Refugio was unlike any other alberque that I had encountered. It has an ecletic, polycultural, hindu hippie throwback vibe. Mongolian throat song music was on the sound box. 

I liked it immediately.

Just opened since this January, El Refugio is communally owned and run by 5 idealistic young people who equally share in the labors and divide the meager fruits. They're working very hard to establish a unique presence on the camino. Sabina, who showed me around, seemed a bit surprised when even after she explained the workings of the toilet/wash closet, I said I'd stay the evening.

Turkish Shiitr
Turnaround and back in.
Assume a relaxed and natural posture.
Remember - aim is everything.

That night I was a dinner guest with a doctor (Adolena) from Barcelona, Sabina and Simon. We had dinner together - a wonderful heaping pasta bowl with a hot sauce made of olive oil infused with sun dried tomatoes, wine, turmeric, chopped chili peppers, and other "secrets" all pureed together with tomatoes and poured over mostaccioli mixed with sautéed spinach and onions. This was followed by a huge salad with all kinds of sprouts, beans and legumes, wine, fresh baked bread and a dessert of coffee and goat yogurt with fresh strawberries and sugar.

These young people are passionately trying to change their world for a new and better way by creating an atmosphere of local community and holding globalism at arm's length. As much as is possible, they want to be self sufficient, grow and make the food they serve and provide a back to basics experience for the peregrino.

As the night came to a close the reality set in that this refuge is a donative and a discussion was needed. A donative is an alberque that doesn't have prices - it's no charge, if you wish. But donations are needed and there is an expectation that you give what you can. Or what you feel the deal is worth to you. So after such enjoyment - it kind of hangs there. An imminent feeling of guilt.

Dinner was splendid. The place was cold and needed a stove. I had to eat wrapped in old woolen blankets. The bunk room and wash facilities were ... very basic - no heat, no washbasin, a Turkish toilet and essentially a hose - but clean. And then, I really liked these people - so warm, so sincere, smart and energetic. What to donate?

I put my arms around Simon and Sabina and asked, "This is hard. You're worth more than I have. What do you suggest?"

In unison, "No - no. Whatever you want. No problem."

So I asked for paper. I folded and tore it into 8's. The dinner was easily worth $7 Euro, so that was the base. I added 10 (more than the bunk was worth) to set the upper at $17 euro. And then together we wrote 6 values in between.

I folded the 8 and put them in a wooden bowl. We were enjoying the game and lots of teasing. Raising the bowl and shaking we formed a tight circle and started a whooping dance. Simon drew, laid the folded paper on the table, and then did a chant hopeful of good fortune.

Open ... and --- $14 EURO!!!  WaaHOOO!   All were delighted. No loosers at El Refugio. After all the laughing and joking subsided, we said good night and off I went with my wool blankets to sleep on a hay straw stuffed mattress.

 


I came upon a child of God
He was walking along the road
And I asked him, "Where are you going?"
And this he told me...

I'm going on down to Yasgur's Farm,
I'm gonna join in a rock and roll band.
I'm gonna camp out on the land.
I'm gonna get my soul free.

We are stardust.
We are golden.
And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden.

Then can I walk beside you?
I have come here to lose the smog,
And I feel to be a cog in something turning.

Well maybe it is just the time of year,
Or maybe it's the time of man.
I don't know who I am,
But you know life is for learning.

We are stardust.
Billion year old carbon.
We are golden, caught in the devil's bargain
And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cRjQCvfcXn0

Hang On

Cruz de Ferro - where you leave a stone from home

I walked up for 5 hours from Astorga (elevation 900 m), starting on the trail until the bike, heavily weighted to the rear, became unstable to push and pull on the gravel. Then I moved to the road and pushed/rode to the highest elevation of all the camino - 1505 meters - at Cruz de Ferro. I transversed to Atlo (militar) and stopped.  

Looking over the edge, it´s a last chance to check equipment - everything strapped tight, pants leg tie in place, gloves, jacket zipped up and Red Sox cap reversed. LET FLY ----

Down there - that´s where we´re headed.

In 12 km (7 miles), I dropped 3000 feet in about 30 minutes through switch backs, hair pins, over high bridges in 2 lane traffic (very light) - absolutely thrilling - landing in Molinaseca.

Two weeks ago the Bayonne Rocinante was brand new. Today her brakes are toast.

Did you know???? Behind Switzerland, Spain is the second most mountainous country in Europe?

Kind Deeds and Pretty Things

The Meseta took more mentally than physically. Part of my spirit of the camino was left there. I arrived in Leon (pop. 130,000) late in the afternoon, worn and not really interested in exploring another city. Yet, after finding a dreary, inexpensive hostal I set out for a walk. Leon is a fine city with deep culture and beautiful architecture. It´s just that the villages, towns and cities are becoming a blur. 

Have I posted this before?

Yesterday it was a battle to get up and moving. I went back to the locutoria where the night before I was kicked out at closing hour. I had some business mail to attend to and a post to complete. Mid-morning I went out to Rocinante on the sidewalk and there some thoughtful soul had left a delicious sandwich of Spanish bar-b-que chicken with melted cheese on my pack pack. That was really nice and the deed gave me a needed lift.

It´s true.

I rode through the day to Astorga (pop. 12,000) and after some searching found the Alberque San Javier on the far side of town. Antonio informed me that they had just opened and that services were limited. At 4:30 in the afternoon I was the only guest peregrino - not that I would complain. I settled in solo in a bunk room for 12, took a shower and headed out to enjoy my sandwich and a diet Coke in the plaza by the cathedral.

 l

Getting back about 2 hours later, I found the tiniest back pack, in eggshell blue, and a pretty knit floppy sun hat with violets on a neighboring bunk. Soon after a young woman comes in and we introduce. This is Emily - just in from Dublin. Emily had arrived in Astorga via Madrid on a bus. Tomorrow (today) would be her first day on the camino, picking up where she had left off some years ago. Being a late hour, conversation was limited.

This morning Emily´s alarm went off at 6:30, which was great - we both had a big day ahead; her first re-starting the camino and I had the most elevation to catch for the entire trip so far. We chatted a bit, readied and headed out together.

With the sun rising over our shoulders, we strode the flats out of Astroga. We talked of travel, Morocco, her work as a successful artist in Dublin and family.

www.emilyrobynarcher.com 

I could have walked with Emily to the edge of the earth at Cabo Finisterre and fallen into the Atlantic. But all things - good and bad - come to an end. As the road opened, it was time for our separate caminos. As good-byes were forming, the thought crossed - a hug?

As a gentleman, a husband and a father, hands extended, we shook in friendship.

It was a delight to walk the camino with Emily, if only for little while.

Buen Camino, Emily

Leon to Santiago.

I've made wonderful time since leaving Burgos - Sunday noon. In two days I covered 114 miles to arrive in Leon a day sooner than expected.

The Elvis Bar in Reliegos

The terrain has become monotonous, and I pedal for hours, head down in the sun. I am thinking of home.

My plan is to make Santiago by March 25, or 26. I want to get my Compostela on the 27th.

From there, I will head down to Vigo on the coast (a two day ride) and pedal south into Portugal. At the same time, I will try to sell the bike wherever I can (opportunidad) for the best deal I can get. When sold, I will get on a train. Maybe I'm in Lisbon for two or three days and then I'll head to the airport and see if SATA won't put me on an earlier flight to Boston.

Leon 

Want to put some SHOUTS out to:

Marti and David from Milbury, Wisecticut - and

Heather and Julia, hermanas from Stamford, CT

Halfway

A day off in Burgos was welcome. It gave me a chance to collect and connect. I was able to Viber call and text with friends and family. There was some really good news from home.

I opened my maps and did some figures. I realized that I would soon be passing the halfway point to Santiago where the camino crossed the Rio Cueza, just east of Ledigos. 

Halfway

On Monday afternoon, I arrived at this "cruce" and there walking along was another peregrino. I pulled up and greeted "!Buen Camino! Senor, look, mira aqui, behind you - the rio!" Bewildered and in perfect English, he said, "What are you talking about?"

Here I met a friend, Peter, from Cumbria, England near the Scots border. I explained we were halfway done - 390 km behind us with 390 more to go. We had a firm congratulating handshake. Then we walked along for an hour or so sharing stories (mostly mine). With Peter I had the first full blown conversation in English in 2 weeks. It was a treat. 

Peter had enlisted in the British army at a young age. He served 9 years military and then 7 years on ambulance with the remaining 17 years as a policeman in Bristol. Peter has seen the harder sides of life and appears to have come out the better. 

We made our way into a small village, dropped in on the first cantina and bought each other a round of aqua con gasse. As we sat and shared a quiet moment, the Spanish news broadcast on the TV. We both admitted we hadn´t a clue as to the business of the real world. I wondered if President Obama and Putin were still eyeballing each other. Peter and I agreed - nothing to get in a twist about.

Peter from England

British kids (as well as many others) have been going off to our wars to be killed and scarred with American kids. Peter, who I believe is in the know, commented with some irony, "All in the name of freedom" - or was it money?

Enough of that.

Burgos and The Spanish Way

 

The days start slow and build in Spain. There´s not much movement before mid morning and it's mostly older folk out on errands and shopping for fresh bread and vegetables for the days meals. During Siesta, between 2:00 and 5:00 towns are shuttered and ghostlike. It´s a good time to make distance; there´s nothing else to do.

At five everything opens. Pastelterias, cafeterias, peluquerias, vinotecas, tapas bars, restaurantes, helodoterias, cervecerias, bodegas - you name it ... it all opens. Businesses pull tables and chairs out into the plazas and onto sidewalks.

In Burgos by 5:00 Saturday the city center was in high hum. The young start the party and pull tables together and drink beer and chase each other around. At sunset families are out with small children and infants in carriages. By 8:00 things are in full swing and thousands fill the calles, alleys, plazas mayor and minor. The ancient are wrapped in furs and wool and pushed in their wheelchairs alongside great and great-great grandchildren. For hours and into the morning friends and family circulate, gather and disperse from tapas bar to tapas bar. 

Young people meet

And in Burgos on Saturday night, there are hundreds, maybe a thousand bars. They´re all pleasantly and comfortably full. People drop in with kids and parents in tow. There are many various and delicious hor d' oeuvres and tapas displayed in bar top transparent shelves. One of this, one of that - and a glass of vino tinto or blanco. With the group - maybe 6 or 10. By myself, I select two, and two small glasses of blanco. "Quanto le debo, por favor?" $3.50 Euro. $5.00 USD. Many wines cost less than a glass of water. And they're good.

Time to move on and see more friend and family. The turnover is ongoing and in minutes there's room at the counter to take another order. This is a cash business and no receipts, no register involved which drive northern Europeans mad because there is no contribution to the EC. But service is quick and the pace vibrant.

People stroll,eat, meet and drink all night. I went to bed around midnight and the street noise outside my third floor room was ceaseless. The hoots and laughter were only silenced by the Sunday sun rise and a phalanx of street sweepers.

Tailwinds

Biarritz

Since leaving Bayonne Sunday morning, March 9th, I have been making remarkable progress. I pedaled 45 km south to Spain stopping at the beautiful vacation town of Biarritz, France for a quick lunch.

I never noticed crossing the border into Spain until I reached Irun and it became evident that people were no longer speaking French. It was late Sunday afternoon and everything was pretty much buttoned up. Trying to get my bearings, I was worried there wouldn't be any hotels open. I was also worried about the next day and the pass south to Pamplona down N-121 where I knew there was a long stretch of tunnel dangerous to bike travel. So coming into Irun´s center square at 5:30 - What do I see????

As though it was waiting just for me - parked and running - a bus to Pamplona. I roll up, the driver helps me stow the bike in the belly and within 5 minutes we're off and two major worries evaporate. Two days saved - I felt, "This must be a message."

Astonished and grateful, I climbed aboard and thought of a story I had heard. A pilgrim on his journey encountered terrible, rainy weather.The river rose and he could not cross. A man came by in a canoe and said, "Get in. I will take you across." Being pure to his purpose the pilgrim replied, "No - God will provide." 

The next day the river was a flood and another man in a motorized skiff came by and offered help. But again the pilgrim would not compromise believing with all his heart that that the Lord would save.

On the third day the river was a torrent and a helicopter hovered overhead and dropped a rescue cable. But the pilgrim just waved it off.

The pilgrim washed away and drown. Arriving in heaven he met God and exclaimed,"Dear Lord, why did you abandon me?". The Lord answered, "Hey - I sent you a canoe, a boat and a helicopter. What more did you expect?"

Los Acros

I didn't stay long in Pamplona. I was anxious to get get going and on Monday I made it to Los Acros, then Najera (day 3), Espinosa (day 4) and to Burgos (day 5).  

I think it's Sansol

I have been averaging 32 miles per day over some very rough terrain. Everyday sees plenty of elevation and I push Rocinante up the mountains. Yesterday I did 26 miles and 4 of those were a constant 6% grade. The days total elevation was 1850 feet up and 1600 down. When I reach the Spanish Meseta, I hope to catch 40 miles/day.

Up a rocky goat path all afternoon

The weather has been perfect. A slight frost at morning's start (7:30) soon warms as the sun rises and I pedal through the endless vineyards of Rioja. In the afternoon it's mid 60's with bright bright sun and blue sky. Seems as though prevailing winds are east to west.

Najera

Today I rest and explore Burgos - a wonderful oldcity (pop. 170,000) with an awesome Gothic Cathedral consecrated in 1260. Tomorrow I am back on Camino and hope to land Leon by the end of next week.

Brugos - a Gothic Cathedral

Burgos - Families out at night

A Plaza 

Burgos - my hotel - $38 E

View from hotel room.

El Peregrino

"Buen Camino!" is the greeting of the peregrino (pilgrim). They come from everywhere and few speak English. It can be exhausting as you try to gnash an intelligible conversation. I remind myself that I never really made an effort to learn another language so what am I to expect. I just try to do my best. 

Peregrinos are mostly young and exploring. There are some retired couples that are taking a slow journey. And then there are a number of older men - like me - solitary and showing some wear. We meet and labor to get to know each other. Many are drifters and have been walking for years. Divorced, estranged, on pension - they walk the many caminos of the world and proudly show their various credentials, but no family pictures to share.

Bo from Sweden (61), Fernando from Seville (53) and Markus from Germany (59) all on a long stroll.

The vast majority of peregrinos walk. With bicycle, I am an anomaly and travel at a different speed. There's not a lot of relationship building going on. And I don't speak Spanish, Croatian or Corean (odd, they spell it Corea!)

Here is my take on the peregrinos. They all have a backpack that is 35 liter capacity or greater. It is made of nylon rip stock. It has 6 zipper pockets on each side or 12 in all and one main zipper for the top opening. In this back pack is everything that is needed. 

Now each peregrino has 6 zip lock poly bags and in each are 3 almonds and a prune. The 6 poly bags with nuts and prunes are stuffed into polyester cinch bags with socks, nail clippers, dentu-grip, and whatever - and then vouchsafed into any one of the random 12 zipper pockets of the backpack.

Peregrinos are accountants and half employ LIFO while the other half use FIFO. In the evenings, after lights out, they commence with inventory. With headlamps on, they mine the almonds and prunes digging and rustling. Zippers open - zippers close in oscillation. Bags are fiddled and diddled. Almonds counted, prunes inspected - are these fresh or stale? Grunts and heaving create a cacophony of exertions. Headlamps strobe and reflect.

By midnight inventories are complete and accounts balanced. But it all starts over again about 4:30 the next morning. I was awoken the other morning by two Korean girls beside each other in their bunks and it looked like a dirty bomb had exploded and these were the first almonds they'd ever seen.

So now I always go to bunk with 2 pair of earplugs in my gym shorts and two Excedrin PM. All I need now is a sleep mask.

El Camino

The Camino starts at your doorstep and ends at Santiago de Compostela. From France it is a long established and well marked route. Actually, it's typically two routes - parallel - a foot path and a secondary asphalt road. Sometimes they are the same and hikers walk the road, and seldom are they more than 200m apart. The markings are a yellow scallop shell on a blue field, or just a yellow arrow. It's great because they lead you through cities, towns and villages taking you on the most scenic and historic path. You can walk, or ride, with your head up and don't have to constantly consult a map.

At least every few miles there is an albergue (hostel - refugio). Albergues are directly on the camino. You step off the camino and through the door. The next morning you step back out and you're on the camino. They are well marked and although I am not certain, it looks as though you must have a pilgrims credential (passport) to stay in one. The alberque stamps your passport as proof of your travel on the camino.

There are three types of alberques: parochial - operated by a religious order, municipal, and private - owned and operated usually by a family. Alberques are typically $5, 8 or $10 Euro/night, however many are by donation. You get a bunk, or cot. In busy summer months, as a late arriver, you may only get a mat on the floor. All facilities are communal with shared kitchen, toilets and showers. By my reckoning in larger albergues (60 to 200) the ratio of toilet/shower to pilgrim is about 25:1.

The pilgrim is assigned a bunk with 1 sheet and pillowcase - maybe a blanket. I have a fleece stuff bag cocoon. No towels provided. You are welcome to bring your own food and some albergues will serve meals for $3 -8 Euro more. You get a sense that this is an ages old system.

Alburgue - Pamplona

Rocinante

Saturday was very busy walking Bayonne gathering information and trying to find a good bike deal. After all, I expect to give this bike to some kid at the end of the trip. It´s sacrificial.

After two bike shops and nothing less than $529 EU, I made my way to "Cash Converter" - a large used everything store. Out front are several possible bicycles and I look 2 over possibles settling on a VTT, mountain hybrid with front suspension. It´s a reasonable price at $129.99 EU on VISA - but it has no rear rack for my panniers and pack. It´s suggested that I go to Decathlon Sports about 3 miles (5 km) and buy a rack there. 

At Decathlon, they have a full service bike shop and a large selection of equipment. Bastien comes and looks at the VTT. "No - it is impossible." He informs me that this bike will not accept a rack. No matter how imploringly I look at him, he says "No way" and shows me some Decathlon bicycles that will.

OK - adjust. I ride the bike back to Cash Converters and with my best sad hang dog face explain in my best butchered French - we have a problem. Eyes roll. Some understated comments about the dopey Englishmen* - but back to the register without much fight  and they give me $130 EU - Cash!! 

I walk the 3 miles back to Decathlon and buy the cheapest hybrid they have - a good fit and with rack installed and a gel seat cover, I´m out the door at $231 EU.

The bad -

I weighted the panniers and backpack on the scales at the Icelandic Air counter in Boston - 15.4 kg. The bike weighs 15.3 kg - a total of 30.7 kg, or 70 lbs. OUCH - this is going to hurt me.

Saturday afternoon I set up and took some test rides - everything is good, fits and works. It´s pleasant on the flats and downhill. We´ll see how it goes.

FYI - Petrol/gas is $1.53 Euro/litre, or about $8.00 USD/gal.

* One week now and I have not encountered a single American. It´s assumed I am British.

Bayonne France - Saturday, March 8th.

The TGV from Paris to Bayonne is a quiet and smooth 5 hour trip and passes quickly ($123 EU). The French have perfected public transportation.

After the expanse and bustle of Paris, Bayonne is a welcome change. Here the small city near the Atlantic is bi-sected by the River Adour. The north side with the train station is the seedier side. The south is the center and has a peaceful, old European feel with narrow streets, shops and restaurants.

I found my way to the Hotel de Arceaux (16 rooms) just below the Cathedral Saint Marie and a block from the Adour. This is a lovely town and a place where you can get comfortable in just a day or 2.

Bayonne is known for it´s "jambon" - flavored hams. There are many shops with large quarters of preserved hog hanging in the windows. I found a friendly spot on the river and treated myself to a mixed jambom plate for Saturday night.

Four flavors, thinly sliced and served on a slate with pate, bread,  little green peppers and spicy mustard. Add a couple of glasses of local wine selected by the bartender.

With his insistence, and on the house - an aperitif of chilled poire (pear) spirits that just sparkled on the palate (90 proof). Jambon special with wine and poire liqueur - $23 EU.

Tomorrow - Sunday I will move on the Spain.