It started like any other day on the Camino. Mikael’s alarm went off at 7:00am. We dozed on. Then Grant got up and shook James to get moving. Each minute wasted is a long hot minute on the Meseta. The pilgrims had just over 20km to smash out today and there was not a cloud in the sky.
After a breakfast of albergue coffee, toast, butter & jam and dry cake, we were ready to hit the road. It was cold, but shorts were the order of the day, yet again. As we climbed out of Hornillos del Camino, we were glad yet again for such gorgeous weather.
There is only one song that comes to mind, Chris Whitley’s “Big Sky Country” and his lyric – kissing time, kissing time, goodbye.
As we hit the top of the plateau our world opens up, we were in the middle of a sea of grass. In the distance wind turbines danced slowly in the morning sun. If only we knew what would befall some of us on this day!
As we wandered, James started having some knee troubles. Perhaps he is a mountain goat not made for the long flat stretches we walk today. Then Mads started to get sore feet, a sure prelude to the dreaded blister. Then on the wind we heard some jazz being played. Were we starting to go mad on the morning of day 2 on the Meseta?
Then in the distance a building appeared like a ship lazily sailing across the calm ocean of green grass. We had found utopia, or Albergue Fuente Sidres as it is named – the Albergue of the cider fountain. This new building was hosted by a lovely lady who made fresh food daily and filled us with strong cafe con leche. We all tried the cake, sensational. Mads attended to his feet, Mikael tested and then rated the bathroom (5 star by his account) and James checked his knees. By days end, would the 4 pilgrims that make up the fellowship of the Camino still be together, or would the fellowship be broken?
The pilgrims pressed on, through the heat and the pain. The sun and the wind was at our backs, urging us ever onward.
Soon we started the descent into Hontanas. We ran into our friend Manny, always lovely to catch up with fellow pilgrims from the class of Camino 2022.
Hontanas is a lovely village and it would be very easy to drop our packs, open our sleeping bags and spend a night here. But we have more miles to cover before we rest. Mads starts limping as does James. I give James my walking pole so he now has 4 limbs getting him across the lonely, hot Meseta. I can only lend Mads encouragement. I start to sweat even more.
Mikael offers us all water from a local fountain.
We decline, hiding our almost empty water bottles.
We round a bend and are confronted with the remains of an old mill.
As we slowly descend through the valley we are forced back onto a small rural road. A man on a horse walks by with a “buenos días”. I spy a pilgrim with a unique approach to footwear.
Around a bend and we are confronted with the ruins of the the 14th century Convent of San Anton.
Then Castrojeriz comes into view. It seems so close, I can sense the fellowship breathe a sigh of relief as 3 of us are struggling.
But no matter how fast or hard we walk, it doesn’t seem to be getting any closer.
Maybe it’s a mirage, the closer we get the further away it moves. The mood changes in the fellowship. We’re hungry and hot and tired and Gandalf (Grant) needs a cold beer.
It’s so close we can almost touch it. Then before we know it, we’re walking up into Castrojeriz. The smell of pizza wafts on the air. We need to find a bed and yet this village just keeps going on and on. Eventually we find the municipal albergue. We stagger up the stairs and check in.
After a beer and some lunch, we retire to our bunks for some rest before dinner.
We were told the pizza bar opened at 6:00, so like many other hungry pilgrims, we were there just before opening. And then we waited. And waited. And waited. Finally Fawlty Towers opened at around 6:45, hey Spanish time.
Sybil, Polly, Basil and Manuel ran a tight, if slightly frantic establishment. Thankfully Basil was throwing the fresh dough. When the pizzas arrived they were exceptional.
I wasn’t feeling too good, so I went for the chilli and garlic diavola. James and Mads, still in pain, went for the bbq. Mikael, looking fresh had the carbonara.
Sunset from the bar was lovely.
As three of us staggered home, Mikael sang show tunes and danced the dance of the honey badger in the streets of Castrojeriz. It is a rare dance that involves the reenactment of the badger attacking a snake and then ripping off its head before eating it. The whole thing was dramatic, but also quite beautiful. Mikael improvised the music as he danced.
Meanwhile there are questions to be answered. Has someone been swapping Mads’ socks causing him blisters for the first time in 2 weeks? Did someone put a rock in James’ shoe? Did someone pass on a rare form of covid to Grant? Will any of these three be able to walk 25km tomorrow?
Tune in for the next instalment of Mystery on the Meseta to find out.
The Long Camino 