Day 5: Triacastela to Sarria (13mi/21km)

A lovely morning for walking. Not too cool, sun shining, birds singing, great views.

As we descended towards Sarria on narrow tracks through oak forests, the countryside became increasingly pastoral, dotted with diary farms, fields of wildflowers, and small villages, each with its own tiny church.

Everywhere there are signs for albergues (hostels). The Camino is very busy in the summer; even now, we are never completely alone. There are always a few pilgrims before us and behind us, some human and some non-human.

Another peregrino and her dog

"Bat" (from Batman) walking from Astorga with his owners

The last few kilometers into Sarria we walked along the road. John strode ahead but I struggled with a new ailment - a nasty blister on the same foot with my even nastier second toe! We found an urgent care clinic where no one spoke English (or even French). Chattering away in Spanish (none of which I understood), the nurse lanced the blister and the toe's nail bed, and bandaged both. With grand gestures and big sighs, she indicated I was going to lose the nail and should not walk tomorrow. We are thus taking an unexpected rest day and will explore Sarria and the monastery at Samos. Oh well. 

Day 4: O’Cebreiro to Triacastela (13mi/21km/2100 vertical feet)

At 4400 feet, the day broke cold and misty. We headed down to the café for toastada and café con leche, opened the door, and were assaulted by rapid fire Japanese. A tour group was having breakfast, lined up toward the bar to get their coffee, orange juice, hard boiled egg, and toast. We stood to the side, smiled, and said, “Cafe only,” and soon two glasses of hot café con leche were placed in front of us. We tried to pay for the picnic lunches that had been made for us, but were waved away with a smile and a Buen Camino. We gulped and left.

Sun alternated with light showers, and we crossed the Alto do San Roque and passed a monument to peregrinos past.

We began descending through villages, and passed a miniature church that couldn't seat more than a dozen people. The alter looked untouched for centuries.

Moving off the mountains, the vegetation changed, although wildflowers were still profuse. The sun finally came out -- briefly.

We spent the night in a new Auberge in Triacastela, nicely situated next to a grove of trees frequented by blue tits and blackbirds and blackcap warblers. Jessica had the binoculars out and was enthralled. We also made it to the 6:00 Peregrino mass at the local church. The words were not understandable, but the pantomime was clear.

Scallop shell symbol of the Camino on the door of the church

We sat down to a Menu Peregrino dinner -- 1st plato (starter), 2nd plato (entree) + vino (a -bottle), agua (bottle) y postre (dessert)-- all for 10 euros. John had stewed beef tongue; Jessica had beefsteak. Both were regional specialties. The starter was a marvelous salad -- the Spanish can really make good salad! We finished with flan and the local soft cheese paired with homemade quince jam.

It was harder going down today than it was going up yesterday. Descent takes its toll on the legs. Jessica has developed a swollen crimson toe that looks worrisome, although its not too painful yet. I'm doing ok so far, but we're both stiff at night. Tomorrow is a relatively flat day that will take us to Sarria, the gateway for peregrinos who are only walking the last 100 km to Santiago - just enough to pick up a compostela.

Day 3: Las Herrieras to O’Cebreiro (6mi/10km/2100 vertical feet)

We spent the night in a new guest house overlooking bright green fields with grazing cows and a wandering german shepherd. Dinner consisted of fresh trout (Jessica) and marinated pork ribs stinging with paprika (John). We struck up a conversation with two Scottish couples who were biking the Camino, and talk turned to other walking holidays. We asked if they had done the West Highland Way. They had. How long did it take? “Oh, we took it easy – about seven days – 15 miles a day.” With that exhausting thought in our head we went to bed and slept long and well.

After a pleasing breakfast of fruit, café con leche, yogurt, cake, and toast, we began walking along the river, which was reasonably calm. Mist was rising in the side canyons. As we climbed, the views became more and more spectacular, and I was reminded of our walk in Wales where we rose up and up out of villages, the path more and more muddy.

We probably greet 10-20 fellow peregrinos on the road each day. Most are not American. In fact, we’ve talked with only one, a birder from Portland, OR. Most walkers are from Spain, and some are doing a religious pilgrimage. We stopped in the church here at O’Cebreiro, and watched a young couple lighting candles at a side alter. Some peregrinos make it a point to stop at every open church on the Camino, which is quite a commitment since every village, no matter how small, has its church. Although not on a religious quest, per se, and certainly not a Catholic one, we are planning on attending an “everyone welcome” peregrino mass in Tricastela tomorrow. (I’ll write about the spiritual part of this journey in a later post.)

Most walkers are younger than us – no great surprise – and a youthful, adventuresome spirit shows itself frequently.

We crossed into Galicia today, with Celtic heritage and Celtic background music playing in the bar where we rested after an intense climb. There is even a Galician bagpipe. 

And Galacian reconstructed medieval dwellings with straw roofs.

The weather forecast was wrong! (Another Camino sign?) Much of the day was beautiful with no rain today until we were well ensconced in our room. The climb was continuous and hard to O'Cebreiro at 1330 meters, but the views were beautiful. We finished tired, but not exhausted. And tomorrow we go down hill!

Day 2: Villafranca to Las Herrerias (14mi/23km)

Desultory rain fell as we crossed Rio Burbia and left Villafranca. As we fussed with the map, two Japanese peregrinos passed us peregringos with a hearty "Hola!"

Most of the day was spent on the old road, in the shadow of A-6, a modern highway running from Madrid to A Coruna. Luckily, the traffic was light, and the rampaging stream below captured our attention.

We passed through villages with modern homes built adjacent to traditional structures -- animals below, living quarters above.

And numerous 18th century churches.

Farmers' fields were edged with impressive "broccoli trees."

And commanding chestnut trees.

Finally, as we headed to our "casa rural" (Guest House or B& B) we had to move to the shoulder to accommodate an umbrellaed farmer and his wife arguing with their cows. The farmer had been herding them back to the barn, whacking them with a switch. One of the cows decided she would prefer to stay in the pasture, turned and ran back, the herd following. The farmer rushed after them, so angry he didn't even reply to my "Hola" -- something that doesn't happen in Spain. He plunged into the field, and a minute later, the cows started returning. His wife joined him, and together they guided the animals back to the barn (beneath their home).

Two days in, and we are stiff. Jessica's big toe is tender. We creaked up the stairs to the room. This is a workout.

Tomorrow we climb 2000 feet in 6 1/2 miles. Shades of the Mt Tam Old Railroad Grade!

Day 1: Ponferrada to Villafranca del Bierzo (16mi/26km)

It was 37 degrees when we stepped outside today, marino wool next to our skin, gloves on our hands. Other pilgrims (Peregrinos) appeared on the road, carrying impossibly heavy backpacks, but still able to voice hearty greetings: "Hola!" "Buen Camino" "Buenos!" The path was marked by a yellow scallop shell.

The road out of Ponferrada took us along the Sil River through suburban neighborhoods, where we encountered a number of unexpected occupants, getting their homes ready for spring.

White Stork

Soon we were in vineyards, surrounded by snow-capped mountains, the carefully pruned grape vines reminiscent of the Sorcerer's Apprentice in Fantasia.

The path was beautiful and well marked.

Spring was bursting from trees.

We arrived in Villafranca tired but pleased that we did the 16 miles with only minor aches and no blisters. Dinner consisted of "Caldo" (chicken soup with vegetables and garbanzos) and veal stew. We are testing the local wine -- simple, intense, deeply red.

Tomorrow, our host told us, "It will rain. In fact, it will rain all week." When the going gets tough . . .

Goodbye Gaudi. Hello Heartland.

Barcelona has been a blur. We've spent 5 days walking, visiting museums (Picasso & Miro), eating and drinking late (10:30 tapes and Tempranillo), enjoying the medieval warren of Barri Gotic. Even with Google Maps we could count on getting lost at least once a day.

I was here in 1965: 18 years old, seeing Europe for the first time. I remember little about the city, except the streets were narrow and dark (still true). La Sagrada Familia consisted only of towers. I remember climbing up and looking down at an unvaulted cathedral, begun more than 80 years ago, wondering whether it would be completed. It looked like an overgrown WattsTowers.

Now it’s not done, but my God, what realization of an off-kilter dream. At 18, I didn’t get Gaudi. Now, I’m entranced. I’ve never seen such bending forms, both audacious and subtle.

His domestic architecture is also head turning. We were walking back to our hotel one night, and stumbled on to one of his apartment buildings.

Now we’re on the train to Ponferrada. Tomorrow we begin our walk. It’s getting colder as we ride west. We see some snow on the mountains. The Spanish countryside is varied and lovely, and the area near Pamplona is especially compelling.  The first part of the Camino descends from the Pyrenees through the same craggy hills, and beckons.

It wasn’t hard to leave Barcelona, but it did make us want to come back. How can you ignore a city with bus stops, ham shops, and markets like these?