SoloWalk2024

My GraphMaker got a bit wobbly with the 26km-distance-walked that I posted a couple of days ago (must say I felt a bit the same given the guidebook said 22km, but I do know I do a fair bit of detouring and zigzagging-around-puddles and walking-around-when-I-arrive, so I’m not really surprised). Anyway, it seems a good time to provide my Rationale for Longer Distances. It’s multifaceted.

i) every week I am increasing the amount of ground I cover by 10% and so the numbers should always be going up!

ii) I count per week rather than per day, and I expect to have a short day into Leon on Saturday, so I could “afford” a long day earlier in the week (in justifying my decision to walk farther than planned the other day, I ignored the fact that the short day is to allow me to wander around and have a look at a thing or two! I can adjust my expectations then if I need to)

iii) I figure I have been exceeding my planned distances and am not suffering unduly for doing so, which leads me to believe it is ok (of course I am monitoring closely the little niggles – I have absolutely no desire to make things worse)

iv) when I left I was resigned to the fact that I probably wouldn’t reach Santiago on foot, but once I realised it was possible I moved the goalpost. The Tooth Fiasco reduced my chances, but heightened my desire to make it!

v) the Tooth Drama gobbled up a few days, so I knew I needed to do a bit more than I had planned on some days. Doing this on the flat meseta seemed to make a lot more sense to me than trying it in the hills that are coming.

The results thus far….
The left Achilles has given me no trouble whatsoever. The toes on that foot regularly complain instead. Something to look into when I get home.
The right Achilles puts on a little burning show when I exceed 15km. It can be a bit tender and I notice it. I try to treat it kindly and keep off it as much as I can once my chores are done, and while I am walking I will stop and rest it for a few minutes, which helps. Thankfully, so far, come the next morning it is not even a little stiff. So this is progress. As long as as I can maintain that, I will be comfortable seeing how far I can push it.

Today I pushed it along a Roman Road. It is said to be the best preserved Roman road in Spain, and I started wondering what the criteria to make such a statement was. I am guessing perhaps “the longest”.

You see, I have seen other Roman roads in Spain that seemed much more “authentic” – the Fuenfría Pass on the Camino de Madrid and a couple of spots on the Camino Primitivo spring to mind – there you see the iconic rocks-placed-lengthwise-in-the-middle-of-the-road, but today there was none of that.

I couldn’t help wondering if it is just that the top layers of the road have been kicked away – it would not be inconceivable to think that might happen over two thousand years!

I don’t know why more people don’t choose this route, but I am glad they didn’t today! There were just six of us in the municipal Albergue last night, and a small handful in the hostal, which meant I walked for over two hours this morning without seeing another pilgrim. Bliss.

I did keep my eyes open for the obviously big owner of this footprint, but I did not have the pleasure of making his acquaintance:

My eyes were frequently drawn to the mountains too. Over the course of the morning they went from being far-off faint silhouettes to more distinct masses with nooks and crannies and crags and shadows.

Before anyone had caught up with me, I realised I was walking towards a patch of fog. It felt unusual enough to be alone, without adding in ethereal weather patterns as well. But that was not the end. The fog became quite thick, which does not make for fabulous photos, but when I thought I was seeing a white rainbow, I took a photo anyway:

As the fog dissipated, the fog bow became clearer. I had not known such a thing existed.

Having reached the edge of the Fog Patch, it became simply a memory.

I was fortunate again to have someone catch me and slow to chat for the last few kilometres , which made them fly by.

It is such a good feeling when you spot your finishing point for the day and it is not far away AND downhill!

I wandered around most of the streets and thought there was no grocery store, so bought myself a ham-cheese-lettuce-tomato stuffed omelette for lunch.

As I was sitting there eating it I noticed pilgrims approaching from one of the few streets I had not traversed – it turned out to be the main Camino route into town and it had a small store and a couple more bars. So then I had half a loaf of bread and some butter, honey and a banana for breakfast tomorrow and a nectarine to add to my salad-from-Sahagún, which I shared with a Rachel tonight, and even with two of us eating it, there were leftovers…which got passed on to a guy, who has been travelling for eight years and staying in a tent for four of them. True story.

How is it even possible to have packed so much into today?

I made a leisurely start, taking a good look at some of the buildings as I left Calzadilla de la Cueza.

I started off at my usual slow pace and was alone with just the chirping birds and cuckoos in distant woods on both sides for a good half hour.

Then a low hum appeared on my radar, somewhere behind me. As it got louder, I realised it was a noise being made by people. They were walking only a tiny bit faster than me, so it took a long time for the hum to reach me and then pass me. It was an older Korean couple taking it in turn to say Hail Mary’s – a lot of them. At least I think that’s what was happening.

Then there was a bit of a hill and for the first time I did not break my stride, but possibly even found a new gear and went powering up. It felt good to be walking strongly. The praying Koreans looked surprised as I flew past them.

A random building going in to Ledigos caught my eye

And leaving Ledigos I decided against the main route and followed blacked-out arrows, the old Camino

My main purpose was to see the dovecotes and I was not disappointed

I had a meeting planned in Moratinos, which must be one of the cutest hamlets along the way – what’s not to love about a yarn-bombed plaza?

A meeting? you ask. Yes. Since before we did our first Camino in 2012, I have belonged to an online Camino Forum. On this forum is a wide range of people, but only one, who lives in Moratinos. She has been particularly encouraging to me over the past year as I have delved deeper into writing. I wanted to meet her in person.

American-Moratinos-dweller was out walking the dogs when I arrived so I nipped back to the bodegas to do a wee sketch.

Magical.

After a chat that gave me things to think about as I walked on, I walked on.

I remembered sitting in the shade of this church with the children – today I was looking for warmth. And lunch.

I also remembered that the stretch after this church had felt particularly long.

Today was no different. At one point the Camino path takes you across the road away from the town that looks tantalisingly close. There’s good reason (to visit an ermita and the halfway monument), but I had a better reason to NOT cross the road and keep heading straight – the body was struggling and wanted the shortest route to the end!

It turned out to be an old Camino path and so didn’t feel like cheating after all!

As well as staying in this town in 2014…(here):

…I stayed at this Albergue/monastery at the end of my Camino from Madrid, and so it felt a bit like coming home. I hadn’t been planning on stopping here, but I’m glad I decided to push on.

I arrived pretty late (4:30), so just had time to nip across to the supermarket to buy something to contribute to the communal dinner before the 5pm coffee and chat that the Marist Brothers host. It’s a simple format – each person shares their name, country of origin and how they heard about the Camino. Then everyone gets to choose a card with a symbol on it that somehow describes their Camino, and they are invited to share. There were some very vulnerable answers shared – it was a gift to be part of.

Time for a very quick shower, while the usual afternoon thunderstorm raged outside, complete with hail this time, and then we raced around the corner to the chapel for mass and a pilgrim’s blessing.

By the time that was all done there wasn’t long to wait until dinner at 8 which lasted a full hour

And that, my friends, is why the blogpost is late today!

How is it even possible to have packed so much into today?

I made a leisurely start, taking a good look at some of the buildings as I left Calzadilla de la Cueza.

I started off at my usual slow pace and was alone with just the chirping birds and cuckoos in distant woods on both sides for a good half hour.

Then a low hum appeared on my radar, somewhere behind me. As it got louder, I realised it was a noise being made by people. They were walking only a tiny bit faster than me, so it took a long time for the hum to reach me and then pass me. It was an older Korean couple taking it in turn to say Hail Mary’s – a lot of them. At least I think that’s what was happening.

Then there was a bit of a hill and for the first time I did not break my stride, but possibly even found a new gear and went powering up. It felt good to be walking strongly. The praying Koreans looked surprised as I flew past them.

A random building going in to Ledigos caught my eye

And leaving Ledigos I decided against the main route and followed blacked-out arrows, the old Camino

My main purpose was to see the dovecotes and I was not disappointed

I had a meeting planned in Moratinos, which must be one of the cutest hamlets along the way – what’s not to love about a yarn-bombed plaza?

A meeting? you ask. Yes. Since before we did our first Camino in 2012, I have belonged to an online Camino Forum. On this forum is a wide range of people, but only one, who lives in Moratinos. She has been particularly encouraging to me over the past year as I have delved deeper into writing. I wanted to meet her in person.

American-Moratinos-dweller was out walking the dogs when I arrived so I nipped back to the bodegas to do a wee sketch.

Magical.

After a chat that gave me things to think about as I walked on, I walked on.

I remembered sitting in the shade of this church with the children – today I was looking for warmth. And lunch.

I also remembered that the stretch after this church had felt particularly long.

Today was no different. At one point the Camino path takes you across the road away from the town that looks tantalisingly close. There’s good reason (to visit an ermita and the halfway monument), but I had a better reason to NOT cross the road and keep heading straight – the body was struggling and wanted the shortest route to the end!

It turned out to be an old Camino path and so didn’t feel like cheating after all!

As well as staying in this town in 2014…(here):

…I stayed at this Albergue/monastery at the end of my Camino from Madrid, and so it felt a bit like coming home. I hadn’t been planning on stopping here, but I’m glad I decided to push on.

I arrived pretty late (4:30), so just had time to nip across to the supermarket to buy something to contribute to the communal dinner before the 5pm coffee and chat that the Marist Brothers host. It’s a simple format – each person shares their name, country of origin and how they heard about the Camino. Then everyone gets to choose a card with a symbol on it that somehow describes their Camino, and they are invited to share. There were some very vulnerable answers shared – it was a gift to be part of.

Time for a very quick shower, while the usual afternoon thunderstorm raged outside, complete with hail this time, and then we raced around the corner to the chapel for mass and a pilgrim’s blessing.

By the time that was all done there wasn’t long to wait until dinner at 8 which lasted a full hour

And that, my friends, is why the blogpost is late today!

The challenge today was going to be the distance. It is a stretch of 17km, and while I have done some twenties and even that one infamous (for this trip) 33km, there were always places I could have bailed out if I had needed to. Not so today. But I would end up doing 21km just fine.

At least it was flat and straight. The whole way. And I had a bed booked.

So when I saw a flock of birds doing marvellous acrobatics as I was leaving town this morning I had to stop and watch. Last time I tentatively identified birds on this blog I got it wrong (griffin vultures, not kites it turned out), but this time I am pretty certain they were swifts, and in case you didn’t know, a flock of them is called a scream. And they do. If I hadn’t taken the time to watch them I probably wouldn’t have noticed that they had a whole community of nests in the eaves of this magnificent building:

The way they swooped around the sky was a wonder to behold.

But the long straight road called…

In the first half I walked alone, except for one Kiwi guy who slowed to chat for a wee while. But then he, like everyone else, strode past me. My plan was to walk slowly, which definitely reduces stress on the Achilles. Seeing so many people walk without their packs made me wonder if it would have been sensible to send it on with the baggage transport just for today, but I hadn’t. I did, however, plan to sit down whenever I could – on the side of a bridge, on a bench, on a roadside barrier….and at this pop-up cafe.

I didn’t need food, but I am always looking for more calcium, so a cola cao hits the spot, especially when it is cold. This one came with a shot of freshly squeezed orange juice and biscuit with THANK YOU embossed on it.

The cafe does not look busy in that picture, but ten seconds later all the seats were filled and there was standing room only. It seems that people have settled into their walking groups and this kind of stop provides space for exuberant catch-ups.

Back to the path, the long straight path…and the friendly greetings as people passed me: do you think we missed an arrow? Kia ora, I went to New Zealand, I loved it. (Someone who must have noticed the flag on my pack) Don’t miss the turn up here! Is it flat enough for you?

I had plenty of time to think today. A plan for the rest of the year popped into my head. That was nice! I hadn’t dared hope for such clear direction, but it seemed so obvious in the end.

And after a number of people got up at 4:20am, yes you read that right; barely after FOUR in the morning, I decided the time had come to compose The Pilgrim’s Guide to Etiquette. That whiled away a few kilometres and is still a work in progress.

4.5km from my stopping place was a final resting spot. A lively group of Irish women, who walk together at home and have been walking the camino, a week at a time for three years (two more to go after this year) provided some entertainment.

The last 4km of any day is always the hardest, so I gave myself a wee talking-to (just get up and get going, the sooner you start, the sooner you’ll get there, no need to draw it out now) and made one final lunge. And only one photo

…because yet another Kiwi came up behind me and slowed a bit. He and his wife are veterans of a number of routes and had not expected to walk the Francés again, but their 18-year-old grandson, who lives in Australia, asked if they would walk with him. How could they say no? I increased my pace a bit, and at the same time offered that Grandpa go ahead and catch up with his family, but he stayed with me, and it made that last stretch fly by. We both knew that the village would suddenly appear over the edge of the road, so when we saw pilgrims ahead of us dropping out of view we knew we were close!

How pleased I was to see the albergue from the top of the little hillock.

Make bed, shower, hand washing…and lunch

I had carried some salad fixings from Carrion and that did me well for dinner.

In between the two meals was a lot of relaxation with my feet up. Writing, drawing and watching people. There is quite a contingent of early twenties guys and gals, and watching their bids to impress made me grateful I have found my tribe and live as part of a rich encouraging community.

I could have gone back to the river route this morning, but why would I dabble with danger, when there had been thunderstorms all evening and so it would certainly have been even more muddy today than it was yesterday? Besides, I would have had to pass That Snake on the road. As it turned out, it was dangerous enough anyway without going looking for more trouble.

Losing the way is NOT one of the dangers, not when the countryside has been littered with these big blue signs. They demand so much attention that the little old mojons are hardly even noticeable now. I must say it felt more adventurous looking for the way markers in past times, but give it another twenty years and these signs will be tattered and less confronting.

So busy thinking about that was I, that I almost tripped over this:

Actually, that was the second living thing I could have trodden on. The first was a little bird hopping along the pavement in Villalcazar de Sirga. Every few hops it looked scared and fluffed its feathers and looked around furtively, and it was cheeping helplessly, but no mother came to rescue it. I stopped to give it a moment to fly off, but although it seemed to try, it couldn’t get airborne. I couldn’t wait all day and so I kept walking and it kept hopping ahead of me. I am guessing it was in much more danger than I was.

The other bird was quite a different story. There was a murder of crows, and the danger is clearly in the name. I kept my sticks at the ready, and stopped long enough to snatch only a single photo of one of group.

Thankfully I managed to avoid any drama, just as I had avoided sunstroke earlier

Just think of all the dangers we narrowly miss and take for granted! I was grateful I did not end up in this toxic looking stream that made me think of the drinks some of my kids consume

There was another kind of danger. It looks pretty enough…

…but you wouldn’t want to get too close

Prickles to the right and cars racing past to the left (at a perfectly safe distance actually, but I would be in danger of losing the story if I told you that)

Before getting as far as this sign, I had stopped to scribble the town. This is a dangerous activity every time I do it. A bottle of India ink is not to be trifled with. I have spilt some accidentally while drawing once and not put the lid on properly once, which caused a catastrophe…but not today

There was a danger shops would be shut today, so I had bought some basic supplies yesterday. I was delighted to find vegetables today and so made a delicious salad for lunch to go with the empanada I had carried from Frómista. (I didn’t buy the peppers or artichoke hearts – they were on the “free to use” shelf in the fridge)

After safely arriving, I took a quiet day. There are lots of things to see, here in Carrion, but I decided it was more important to keep off my feet. I spent the afternoon at this table…

…writing some notes for Rob’s trip later in the year, tidying up my journal (there’s a dangerous activity: people come and look and tell you how fabulous you are and you could explode with pride…seriously though, this is happening a lot and I find it very uncomfortable. I thank them and ask if they have taken any photos that will bring back special memories for them…or if they tell me they are drawing or painting too, I ask to look at their work)

Anyway, there I was happily sitting at that table working on this blogpost when over the PA system some classical music started playing. The second piece was Pacelbel’s Canon in D, which has a habit of moving me to tears. So I closed my eyes and listened, hoping I would simply enjoy the piece this time. No, it was not to be. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I was not sad; I was just moved by the beauty and emotion. I’ve already told the family I’d like this piece played at my funeral!

It turned out the music was a gentle way of announcing prayer time.

This dear sister spoke slowly and clearly so I could understand and the Korean lady could use Google translate. She also repeated everything in French for someone else in the room. And then she somehow convinced all of us very reluctant pilgrims to sing a song in our own language. The French guy chose a song with more verses than a twentieth century hymn. I was in no danger of doing that!! The Lord bless you, and keep you, make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you, the Lord turn His face toward you and give you peace. Amen.

I dithered about whether or not to go to the mass at the Santa Maria Church.

So glad I did. I hadn’t thought about it being Pentecost. What a lovely symbol to extinguish the candle that has been burning constantly for the past fifty days, because now the Holy Spirit is in each believer, to shine light into the world.

I was sitting quite near the front and did not realise the church was packed. When people started going forward for communion the stream seemed never ending. The little boy sitting next to me commented on it to his parents, so perhaps there were more than usual. When the pilgrims were called forward for a blessing at the end (which has been offered here since the eleventh century), there must have been more than sixty of us!

The famous-in-these-parts Singing Sisters led the songs throughout the service, at times breaking into three part harmony that rivalled Pacelbel’s piece. Whenever hosanna or Gloria in excelsis Deo or allelujah turned up, it was easy to join in! As I say, so glad I went.

Random fact:

One of the crosses reminded me of the one I had seen in Puente la Reina:

“Radical acceptance” were the words I walked out with this morning.

Started by accepting that most people were getting up at 5 and I was not going to go back to sleep, so I also made an early start….and got to bear witness to a glorious sunrise, and then watch the light play across the fields.

There was supposed to be a simple walk alongside the canal, but – radical acceptance (after momentarily wondering if you might be allowed through because it was Saturday and no one would be working!) – no, a detour…

And it’s not like there was NO canal walking…it had started in the mist…

…then there was the detour for some serious road building…

…and then rejoined the canal until crossing it at Frómista.

Time for breakfast. Radical acceptance does not mean you have to have a sweet pastry from the first bar when you really want tortilla de patatas. You go to the second one.

Radical acceptance acknowledges that in Spain most shops shut at 2 on Saturday and don’t reopen until Monday. While there have been exceptions, I don’t want to count on that, so I pick up some supplies.

With the tinned tuna, cashews and orange I was already carrying, that should do.

When we walked here in 2014 I did not have a guidebook and did not know there was a gorgeous church directly behind the line of bars where we bought enormous cream-filled pastries. This time I bought a small pastry and walked the three metres required to see the church!

Leaving Frómista there was quite the commotion. According to the timings on my photos, a police helicopter landed in a nearby field at 9:14, took off again at 9:19, and in between two police cars raced out of a side street and screeched to a halt, disgorging the officials. What was going on? I have no idea. The chopper passed over me a couple of times back and forth as I walked.

Radical acceptance takes the paths next to a highway and in this case made a real effort to notice my surroundings, to hopefully end up remembering more than just the puddles in the path.

Radical acceptance meant I knew it was quite likely I might not get a bed in my preferred stopping place tonight (others had reservations, but I had not even had a reply to my queries – I had tried to book, because there was no municipal albergue to just turn up at), so I had decided to stop in every village along the way to give my feet a rest just in case it was going to end up a long day. After an overpriced fresh orange juice stop in Población de Campos, I noticed all the pilgrims heading for a main road AND saw some very faded arrows leading through the village. A village walk appealed and so I followed them.

I had forgotten I had been planning on choosing the river route rather than the road – but remembered when I came across the hamlet on that route. Obviously it happened anyway.

I had just walked with an Australian lady, who was practising her own radical acceptance of an ankle injury that was preventing her from doing what she had hoped. Sounds familiar, but because she was all pre-booked through a company, she has to keep bussing and taxiing to make her accommodations. But she was still delighted to be here.

Another walking partner lasted about a kilometre until she told me to take a selfie with her and a photo of her details which she had written on a card and to walk on, because she was ready to walk alone. I did as I was told!

Well before I expected it, I saw the place I hoped to stay.

En route was a Dangerous Animal that distracted me, but it was easy to accept he would do me no harm.

In my memory, this was a nice place. We had walked along the hot dusty road to get here, poked our noses into the garden, saw the donkey we had been walking with – and for whatever reason decided not to stay. We would have already walked 24km to get here, but the kids had opted to tackle another 10.

When I walked in today there was a strong scent of incense and an even stronger hippy vibe. Maybe that’s what the kids had objected to!!

I didn’t care.

Here’s the conversation with the bead-necklace-making hippy hospitalera. I’ll translate it from Spanish for you:

“Hi, good day. How are you? Do you have a bed? Or bunk?“

“Good day, I’m well, oh you speak Spanish. Do you want to continue in Spanish?”

“Yes.”

“We have twenty beds, but we also have twenty reservations. However, someone might not come and you could have their bed.”

“I think…”

“Or we have cabins out in the field. There are three, each with two or three beds. You can look at them all and see which one you like. They have their own feel. You can use the showers and kitchen inside. I’m sorry the Albergue is full”

“No no this is perfect.”

It truly is.

I would end up with a neighbour from Adelaide in the next cabin and we would sit and chinwag in our private garden.

It might be a quirky place, but they had Vivaldi playing, so that encouraged me to stay (not that I was ever considering walking on).

And that’s not the only music. There are a guitar and a ukelele (I told you it was hippy)…and when I nipped across to take a look at the church I saw that today there was to be a choral cantata company taking the mass at 7 and doing a concert at 7:30. On the way back to the albergue I saw three people sitting on a bench eating filled rolls and as there were no packs to be seen, I figured they’d already dropped them off at accomodation nearby.

“English?” I asked as I approached. One sentence and it was clear they were kiwis. From Wanganui it turned out. They were staying at the fancy place – “the only place we could get”. I didn’t tell them there was a three bed cabin still available for half the price they had spent. They were a bit cheeky when I said I was at the hippy place.

“Yeah, we looked in there on our way past. It sure is. But you look like you’ll fit in.

I guess they had a point!

And the day ended with radical acceptance too – that I am a complete plonker sometimes! When I went to the church for the mass and there was no one there, I got suspicious. CAREFULLY reading the notice, I discovered the choir is in the village 4km away, Villalcázar de Sirga. I could be there in time for the concert, but I didn’t fancy walking back in the dark! Silly Billy me

The architect had fun with the toilets – I think he must have said, “Let’s centre the loos directly under the beams, that will look pleasing.”

Anyway, simple blogpost today, because if I opened my mouth it might say things like why on earth did I find myself wondering as I walked today what I could be doing with the six weeks I’ve got left in Spain other than walking? Why is it feeling so hard? Why am I staggering along so slowly? Why do the toes of one foot hurt after 5km every day? Have I lost motivation, because it seems less likely I will make it to Santiago on foot after the tooth fiasco? So if I am not going to make it, do I just do something more exciting now? And I’m tired of meeting new people, yet it seems churlish to not want to talk to them. The iconic Seamus from Ireland slowed to walk with me this morning and we had a perfectly pleasant chat before he took off up a little hill. Some time later I heard two ladies approaching me speaking Polish. Of course, I could have simply said, “Buen camino” and let them pass, but “Dzień dobry” escaped my lips and they, too, slowed to find out how I knew Polish. Another nice quick conversation, and then they too disappeared into the distance!

I know this is simply something to be walked through. All I have to do is get up again tomorrow and keep walking. I know that. It is just different when it´s not as enjoyable as it has been in the past and it is important to remember this as well as the magnificent vistas….

PS it’s raining and the temperature is staying low for at least another week according to the forecast 🙂

Today I surprised myself! I’m not usually the adventurous one of the family who chooses to climb a hill even if there’s a castle on top of it. But I had to wait two hours for the museum to open after getting kicked out of the albergue (I had asked ever so nicely if I could sit just inside the front door, but no, there was cleaning to be done – and I wasn’t about to offer to clean for the sake of staying warm. So out into the three degrees I went, sensibly wearing lots of layers, but still in a short hiking skirt. I couldn’t bring myself to walk back down the street to see if a bar was open, so I tied my pack to the bench outside the church-cum-museum and headed up the hill. At more than one point I was terrified going up and figured I would be petrified in the non-moving sense of the word on the way down and hoped family would eventually come and find me! Actually I was fully expecting to slide the steepest bits on my butt, but that didn’t happen. (Full disclosure: any of my kids, perhaps with the exception of the one who gets vertigo on mountains, would probably have run down happily – it’s just me who is uber-cautious and prone to imagining myself falling off the edge – and clumsy enough to do it!)

Anyway, I walked up the hill, and down again and felt quite the sense of achievement. I drew the line, however, at climbing to the very top of the tower and standing on a sloping platform.

The views were well worth the effort.

A bonus was seeing the bodegas

By the time I got back down the temperature had gone up – to four degrees! It was a long 45 minutes to wait.

But again, worth it.

Then through town…

…and up the hill

Again, amazing views (see The Castle on the hill??)

And then there was rest of the way…

…to San Nicolas, a pilgrim’s hospital that was rebuilt from ruin status to its original (700 year old) purpose…complete with communal dinner and foot washing ceremony

Tonight we are 13 people representing ten nationalities, all of them European apart from Brazil and me: Croatia Denmark France Germany Italy Moldova Spain Sweden

Most are in their twenties, I’m guessing I’m the oldest. Spanish and Italian are the common languages. Everyone is solo and I think that lends itself to more interaction, not that there has ever been a lack of that! It is a very curious and vulnerable group. One is walking to break a cocaine habit. Another has thrown in their job. Another bright spark of just 22 years (Italian/French background, living in the US, visited London and loved it) applied to a dozen masters programmes in the UK and was accepted by them all. She’s filling in time until she starts at UCL. At least half the group, including guys, sat round hand writing journals before we cooked dinner.

The Masters student is considering writing something for my wee project….as is 7-year-old Tobias, who has lived his whole life in Africa and is now cycling “home” to Holland

I might be doing more talking than writing right now, but I’ve met a number of people, who are willing to put pen to paper for me, which is an exciting development.

Before I sign off, I thought it would be good to add another graph! Someone said the hill on the Camino elevation profile for today was just a little blip, so I turned on Strava to record my two hills, because I knew it would look much more impressive on that read out. Not wrong!

How different a day in Burgos is when you are feeling good.

For comparison, here’s my cathedral scribble after walking 33km feeling grotty:

Had it not started spitting today I’d have spent more time on my picture (every time I looked up I saw something else), but I really didn’t want to get wet, so I took off to the bus station….

Earlier I had walked past the dentist for the last time…

…noticed a church was open, so went inside (interesting to see people sitting in there on their own – made me realise our own church building is a very much a communal space)

I didn’t stay long, because I was headed here before they closed:

After delicious decadence…

…I worked on the journaling I have neglected the past couple of days

The cathedral then called, tantalisingly close

En route

And on the way back to the bus station (via the supermarket handily located right next door)

Lunch while I wait

Then I rescued an Australian couple who seemed to be trying to get to where I was going and the next hour and a half was spent chatting with them until the bus arrived.

On the bus were a bunch of pilgrims all heading to the same village and the conversations continued up and down the aisle – such interesting people…a couple resuming their Camino from the place she fell and broke her pelvis six years ago…they also happen to volunteer at lighthouse keeping for a month every year…an Israeli couple with two children under three…a Danish couple, although when asked about his non-Danish accent (I couldn’t help myself!), it turned out he had been born in London, but spent the last 31 years in Denmark (about half his life I would guess)

Back in Castrojeriz…

I have my choice of chairs

Met one more interesting family as I had dinner

A Dutch couple who lived in Sierra Leone for four years and then have been in Malawi for four years, and are on their way cycling back to Holland from Porto with their 5 and 7 year old boys. They are both healthcare professionals and are feeling daunted by the fact that they are going to a district of 250,000 people with 230 medical specialists from an area that had 1.3 million people, and only 6 doctors, two of whom were appointed by the government to do administrative tasks and had no patient contact (so really only four doctors – and these two have now left) You can imagine them grappling with searching for meaning and not wanting to get dragged into a lifestyle that is ultimately unfulfilling.

So endeth another day…back to walking tomorrow.

Photos are displaying strangely on the blog (if you click on them, you can see them – if you want to), but at least all the info you need to see on those two screenshots of my phone^^ is clear!! (in case you can’t see it, someone very dear to me, who suggested I get a private room so I could rest, rang me at 5am and again at 7am, and both times I was asleep!)

Seeing as I’m awake and have five hours until I need to check out, I’ll write today’s blogpost!….

It all started over a raincoat.

There was this guy I had been following online (as you do) (following, not stalking, mind). He kept an interesting walking blog…went a bit overboard on the data analysis at times, but the engaging writing well and truly made up for that. He could make a story out of nothing! You think I’m exaggerating? He was going to walk the Primitivo when Covid hit, and so he completed the entire walk in his own Canadian back yard…and blogged every stage. You’d think there’s only so much to say about walking circles in your garden for three weeks, but, as I say, he can make a story out of nothing.

You’re wondering what that has to do with a raincoat, right? Well this guy (who is actually called Guy) put out a call on the Camino Forum, where I had first come across him, for advice about rainwear. I waxed eloquently about my own choice, the Packa, and you know what? He listened to me. That made him a firm friend! Things got off to a bit of a tricky start though when his Packa arrived in the mail and he tried to use it. Honestly, just between you and me, I don’t know what he found so difficult, but he made a whole video of himself trying to put the e*x*p*l*e*t*i*v*e thing on and it really did look hard, if not impossible. I implored him to practise as the benefits of mastery would far outweigh any momentary trouble…although in his case, I did start to wonder.

And YOU are wondering what that has got to do with my Camino.

It’s just setting the stage for today’s blogpost.

You see, this guy, Guy, got some rubbish news nearly two weeks ago. Prostate cancer. He’s written about it here and gave me permission to say whatever I like about him. Silly him!!

Since then we’ve been messaging back and forth a bit and having a few laughs. Mostly about his data analysis. And haemorrhoids.

But at one point he said I really needed some graphs on my blog. Actually, he was far less bossy than that:

My apologies meant to say “a graph or two would be welcome for your next blogpost” 😂

When I said I’d see what I could rustle up….

Well that really would be a shame I think if you spent time creating a graph as your time is much more valuable exploring,  talking to other pilgrims, family members etc. I on the other hand can’t help myself as it’s too much fun….and it will get worse during surgery recovery. 🤣

At this point in the conversation I had my own tooth treatment and associated recovery time to look forward to, and anticipated graph making might be a fun way to while away my time, although, as I pointed out to him, I had no idea how to do it on my phone.

This guy, Guy, needed no further invitation

Well you could always send me the data that you desperately want graphed…I volunteer to do so…save in jpeg form and send back you 😂

Ideas on a per day basis…kms walked, stork pictures, maybe interesting doors…great conversations with others etc etc. I would think coffee per day would be a mite boring considering 1 coffee for past 30 years!

And in my own post-treatment-euphoria, I sent him some numbers.

Even before my anaesthetic had totally worn off, there were four graphs in my inbox and a full analysis of the numbers accompanying them that made me laugh out loud. Literally.

There was also some advice

In fact if they [the graphs] find their way in your blog it is critical that you distance yourself from this nonsense I created 😊.

Done. Now you know why I told you so much about this guy, Guy.

{Note: all Guy’s number notes are in bold so they are easy to find – or avoid, depending on your preference}

Graph 1 – Weekly Max Goal vs Actual Walking

Two graphs 1st including to July 1st…2nd to May 6

–  Bar chart is Actual with Camino in Red (april 8th start)

– Line chart is Max Goal

All was very close heading into the Camino walk…now as you have indicated in recent blogposts Camino Walking is starting to stretch above pre established Max Goals

But he didn’t stop there. He couldn’t help himself. He made it all cumulative – something which I subsequently pointed out to him I was never going to do, as it’s only getting worse as I go on, so why would I want to highlight that? Incidentally, I think he’s sending a subliminal message by putting my walked-too-far-weeks in red. Hard not to agree, right?

Graph 2 – Cumulative Max Goals vs Actual Goals

– Same story as Graph 1 for info as of May 6th week Cumulative Max Goals 

And he didn’t stop there, either!

A little analysis:

– As of April 1st week Max Goals was 470 kms vs Actual 466 kms

– As of May 9th week Max Goals was 896 kms vs 820 kms

So for Camino Walking Max Goals to date were 350 kms vs Actual 430 kms or 22.9% higher

So even on my days off the Camino, staying in a wee room away from pilgrims, I have felt connected to the Camino in the same kind of special way as if I were walking.

Thanks Guy, you’re a great guy!

PS This post is written by 9:30am. Clearly it does not include what is going to actually happen today. As I will be taking a late-ish bus back to Castrojeriz, I may not get to do a post until tomorrow morning while I wait for the museum to open. Then tomorrow evening I’ll be at San Nicolas without electricity or cell reception, so what-has-become-my-standard-posting-schedule is going to be disrupted for a couple of days.