“Damn this guidebook and it’s stupid maps,” I say as James and I stand on the side of a road in a village that is not Fresno del Camino. We’re lost. Well as lost as you can be when you carry a smart phone.
We realise we’re close, but need to sidetrack a little. I hate that the guidebook maps are not oriented to north and that sometimes complex paths are a series of large dots. What were they thinking?
We make our way into Fresno for a cafe con leche, 12km into the day. But I digress.
We left León in sunshine, something we hadn’t seen for some days.
It was a long walk through the suburbs of León. On and on the Camino went. Over rail lines, past so many kitchen and appliance stores, dingy bars and cafes exuding smoke, then industrial sheds, car sales yards and finally a service station.
We had arrived in Virgen del Camino. According to the map, from here we had 2 choices, either walk beside the freeway or take a scenic route. We had been advised to go via the scenic route and so found ourselves trying to decipher the map and written directions to find it. The guidebook said – “the markers have been painted over, but ignore this as markers will show you the way further on.”
We walked over markers that had been painted over only to find ourselves walking in a rabbit infested paddock next to a creek, in the middle of multiple freeways. We followed the map as best we could – big green dots. Then we walked into a village full of the most enormous, angry dogs on earth. There was no cafe, no bar, no sign of life other than canines wanting to rip our throats out.
We pulled up maps on our phones and realised we had followed the guidebook map and it’s accompanying one line description perfectly, and yet we were in the wrong place. I had flashbacks to National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation- “You know what I wish? That I could have the guidebook author right here right now. And I’d tell him what a lily livered, hopeless, son of a motherless goat, ball bag eating, goose jumping, goat loving, useless son of a beach he was. Hallelujah.”
From Fresno, it is a simple walk along bitumen and gravel road to Villar de Mazarife. The manicured paddocks that characterised that last 8 or so days were replaced with scrubby forests. Whilst we were still on the Meseta, we can sense that the landscape is changing once more.
We arrive in Villar de Mazarife and check into the albergue at Tío Pepe. We then head to another local bar and enjoy a beer and a talk with Alex from Norway. He is 68 and has walked too many Caminos to keep count. He has good advice, not just about places to stay, but also about the Camino itself. “Take your time, enjoy being in Spain and remember that the Camino is the destination, not Santiago”.
James and I enjoy a lovely lunch in the bar and then head back for a shower and some down time before dinner.
We join 7 other pilgrims for dinner at the local bar. We enjoy too much food and then retire for the night.
The room is small, hot and if you love the smell of stale cigarettes, it’s perfect. The room is above the bar and years of nicotine has seeped into the very pores of the building. Needless to say we didn’t sleep overly well.
We were also haunted by nightmares of wandering around fields, lost near the Camino.
The Long Camino 