Author Archives: thelongcamino
Lost! 24 April 2022
“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.
Farewell to Friends, Rest Day In León- 23 April 2022
After sharing many miles, laughs, stories, poor pronunciations, albergue rooms, dinners, breakfasts, movie and music recommendations, this morning we sadly said farewell to our Danish friends, Mikael and Mads. They have a deadline to meet and we need a rest day after 3 weeks of walking.
We shared a last breakfast, for now, in a cafe on the Cathedral plaza. Then we walked a mile on the Camino and said farewell.
James and I will miss them.
A rest day is pretty much just that, sitting and laying around, catching up on some washing, watching Brooklyn 99 from the start . . . again.
Then we hit the streets for some lunch. At 8:00 the streets were all but empty. By early afternoon there are people everywhere.
We visit the Museum of León, a fantastic place which we recommend everyone visit if they have some spare time.
Then we go to rest up for a few hours before dinner.
Catching up with fellow pilgrims – Katherine (Denmark), Amy (Canada) and Leo (Australia)
Cathedral – Leon 22 April 2022
My Many Coloured Days – 22 April 2022
Dr Seuss’ greatest book is not Green Eggs and Ham, though that is not far behind, Sam I Am. It is My Many Coloured Days. It is a book that puts a colour with an emotion. When Alex, Georgie and James were little, we would read it to them. That way they may be able to describe how they were feeling by referring to a colour, rather than the complex notion of an emotion.
For example – On bright red days how good it feels to be a horse and kick my heels.
Today though was brown at best – Some days of course feel sort of brown, then I feel slow and low, low down.
Perhaps a little grey – Grey day, everything is grey, I watch but nothing moves today.
Bordering on black – Then come my black days. Mad and loud I howl. I growl at every cloud.
León is cold and wet. James is sick and doesn’t feel like he can go out. I spoke with a fellow pilgrim earlier who told me that he knows of several other pilgrims in his group that have had a similar sickness.
Albergue are fertile ground for such bugs to jump around from pilgrim to pilgrim. You may have 10, 20 sometimes even 40 pilgrims in one room. You share a small number of bathrooms and one, usually tiny, kitchen.
Then there’s the weather. We started in snow, freezing cold for the first few days. Then we walked in sunshine, sweating and needing sunscreen and lots of water. Then it got really cold again. Then hot. Then cold. All this must be playing havoc with our immune systems.
James and I spend some time on the streets before he feels too unwell and we return to our hotel to check into our room.
I love cathedrals. Not as a place of worship for me, but as a place where science and art come together to create something beautiful.
After a light dinner, we retire for the evening. It is raining heavily again. Before our hotel we meet Dave from Brisbane. He says he is moving on tomorrow but doesn’t like the forecast – 3 degrees at 9:00am and 70% chance of rain.
Perhaps in hindsight, today was a purple day – On purple days, I’m sad. I groan. I drag my tail. I walk alone.
Camino 99- 21 April 2022 and the morning of 22 April 2022
Pilgrims are always wary of a day that is over 25km. Today we had to surpass 30km to get from Sahagun to the village of Reliegos. It was the pain to get us within about 24km of Leon, our goal for tomorrow and James’s and my first rest day of the Camino. We booked a nice hotel for Friday and Saturday nights to motivate us.
We didn’t get to explore the lower part of Sahagun yesterday. When we went out, the centre of town was closed. As a Swedish pilgrim commented, “this town is very boring.”
We had also decided on a home cooked meal, so there was no motivation to go out into the cold night wind.
It was a nice surprise to us on the outskirts of Sahagun to see the grand gates and monastery.
Today was going to be the longest, flattest day for us. It may sound as if it was going to be a dreary day, but as we walked, the sun shone, birds sang, the wind stayed the hell away and we would be rewarded with some stunning views across the Meseta to the ever closer mountains.
After 10.5km, we stopped at Bercianos Del Real Camino for cafe con leche.
It was a further 7.5km to El Burgo Ranero for lunch. There was one bar open in the whole village, something we realised after walking about 400m past it and seeing the end of the village. As we approached the bar, we saw two familiar pilgrims get into a taxi and leave. I guessed they’d seen that the next village of Reliegos, our stop for the night, was another 13km. Perhaps they had seen enough of the Meseta for the day?
As we sat enjoying lunch, we discussed which character from Brooklyn 99 each of us would be. James – Doug Judy, aka The Pontiac Bendit (no debate needed here). Mads – Sgt Terry Jeffords (Mads loves his yoghurt). Grant – Jake Peralta. Mikael – Amy Santiago or Hitchcock & Scully or Teddy Wells. Three of us left lunch happy and walked with a spring in our step. Another kept complaining – “I am so not Santiago!”
From there the way entered a very long, almost flat stretch through farmland, newly planted forest corridors and the occasional self built air strip.
We had expansive views to the north and the snow capped ring of mountains at the edge of the Meseta. It was a sight to behold and though our bodies started to break down and our feet complain, one look at that view was enough to revive us.
After yesterday Mads had calmed down a little. I think he was very happy when this signpost appeared.
The last 5km into Reliegos dragged on and on. For the first time in almost 3 weeks of walking, I put my AirPods in and listened to some music – Lucinda Williams and some David Grissom. They make be so happy but also a little melancholy as this great music reminds me of Connie and Adam, my band family.
Reliegos is a little village perched into the side of a hill overlooking the plains of Leon. We had booked ahead as Leo and James had warned us that the villages into Leon get very busy with pilgrims. As we arrived into the village, we bought ice creams, a reward for our efforts on the Camino this day.
I didn’t take much notice of the name of the albergue we had booked until we arrived. Las Hadas means the fairy. It somehow seemed apt given all of our talk about The Lord of the Rings.
The lady that runs the albergue is very welcoming and gave the four of us our own room, the last we would share as the Fellowship. After a shower and a cold beer we have some rest.
We are told the local bar serves food until 9:00pm. At around 7:30 we wander up only to find it closed. Thankfully the little supermarket (delusions of grandeur with that name given it is about the size of a bedroom) is open. We buy some pasta, sauce, cheese, chorizo (the shopkeeper takes it down from where it hangs on the wall, more on that later) and red wine.
I cook back in the albergue whilst the boys play UNO. We eat outside as the sun is setting. Satiated we ready for bed.
It is not long before the trouble begins. James vomits first. I make my way off the top bunk and help him. For the next couple of hours he is sick. Around midnight, I hear him settle and sleep.
Mikael is next. He is also very sick and then cannot sleep.
At times during the night I hear rain, as predicted.
When the dawn breaks, slow, wet and grey, two of our party are in no state to walk. They are tired and still being sick.
Mads and I know that we will have to get them to Leon by taxi. James and Mikael look awful, all colour drained from their faces. We feel terrible for them and can only help by packing their gear and getting organised to get a ride. The young owners of the albergue are fantastic through it all, offering help and assistance.
It’s wet and very cold in Leon, 6 degrees. For some good news, our blog now has over 1,000 views! Thanks for reading.
Mid-Camino Crisis – 20 April 2022
Mads is frustrated, perhaps even angry. I have to agree with him. He walks past signposts and waves his arms in resignation. I look at him and nod earnestly, “yes Mads, yes.”
The thing is, we’re suffering a mid-Camino crisis. It’s not that we’re depressed that our adventure is half over. It’s not that our bodies and minds are tired and we’re only half way there.
No. It’s because we can’t find halfway. According to guidebooks, websites and peregrino, the way from St Jean Pied de Port to Santiago de Compostela is 800km. That would mean that the halfway point is at 400km, simple. But it’s not that easy.
Some say that the Camino Frances ends at the sea at Finisterre. That is about 100km beyond Santiago. That would mean the halfway point is at 450km or 350km to Santiago.
Every so often we’ll pass a sign like this one just outside Sahagun.
Then about 3km further on we pass the “official” halfway point on the outskirts of Sahagun.
It can’t be 760km to either Santiago or Finisterre. None of this makes any sense! Any wonder Mads is losing his mind.
I should also mention that quite often we will pass a signpost that says 522km. Then we’ll walk 2km and pass a sign that says 535km. Arghhhh!!!!!!
Hence our mid-Camino crisis.
It was clear and cold when we rose in Calzadilla de la Cueza. After our wonderful dinner last night at Los Conarios, we decided we’d go there for breakfast.
We had strong espresso coffees and a lovely breakfast of freshly cooked eggs, followed by freshly squeezed orange juice. It was delicious. The couple that run Los Conarios are warm and welcoming. They also run a great little shop and I’m sure their Albergue would be equally lovely.
After yesterday’s rain and grey skies, it was nice to walk under blue skies.
We made good time, stopping at Ledigos for a cafe con leche. We ran into Thierry. His ankle is very bad. He had called his Doctor back in France who had told him to stop for at least a day, otherwise he risked his whole Camino. I could tell he was upset. We wished him all the best.
James and Leo had told us about an Italian bar in Moratinos. It was getting cold as we approached, so we went in and ordered some drinks and burgers.
When we exited, we thought that maybe we had been slipped something and that all our talk of the Lord of the Rings had transported us to Hobbiton.
Alas, these were caves that the locals had built long ago to make and store wine.
From Moratinos, the clouds closed in and the wild wind howled about us. I heard Mads swear (in Danish) as we passed another distance post. Mikael contemplated long pants. Yes, it was that cold.
We were tossed around like corks on an angry green ocean.
Mads swore at another sign. Mikael summoned his experience in the army and force marched us through the storm and into Sahagun. James and I were like riders in a peloton, just following blindly behind the Danish Guard.
On the way in, the boys start spotting tractors as a game. Yep, nothing more needs to be said about this.
We pass the local bull ring. I noted that I have only seen one small herd of cattle the whole time we have been in Spain.
Ignoring our rule not to stop at the first bar/restaurant/albergue we walk past, we checked into the municipal Albergue in the Iglesia de la Trinidad. The old building has had serious modifications to convert it into the local tourist office and the albergue.
If we look at the Camino as a metaphor for life, then we are in our mid-life. So perhaps a mid-Camino crisis seems apt.
I’m sure it will pass. A lot of research points to people getting happier in mid-life and beyond. Certainly the first stage of the Camino is difficult. You are fraught with doubts about whether your mind and body are up to this task of walking the full Camino, up to living a full and meaningful life. You are not sure who amongst the many that walk on the way you can trust or like. Who is your family? Who are your friends that you will care for and receive care in return? You see people struggling. But to take up their load may not only be unfair to them, but to take on too great a load yourself.
In early life, like early Camino, you may make rash and immature decisions – I think a blister is coming, but I only have 3km more to walk. I should be fine. You are never fine when you put off dealing with issues and problems. The blister arrives as you arrive at your destination. If you had stopped and treated your foot earlier, had you been patient, this would not have occurred. But as the inexperienced on the way, we grasp at what we want, instead of what we need.
The Western Bulldogs had a saying they would repeat to each other in the year they won the flag – run towards the fire. It seems simple, but in practice it is much harder. It means, don’t let any problem fester, deal with it now. Don’t run from the fire, run to it and put it out before it grows too large and out of control to resolve simply. This is hard in early life as you lack the confidence and belief in yourself.
Mid-life and mid-Camino is bringing happiness and peace.
The albergue has a kitchen that is open, something a little rare at the moment. I offer to cook a meal for our Fellowship.
I find a supermarket and buy the ingredients for spaghetti carbonara followed by yoghurt and fresh strawberries for dessert.
It is great to be cooking again. It’s even greater to have a home cooked meal and see that everyone is enjoying it.
Well, everyone but the French who turn their nose up at it but then cook pasta and pour a jar sauce over the top. We enjoy our meal so much we don’t even notice them.
So tomorrow we begin the next phase of our journey. Are we halfway? Past halfway? Still not at halfway yet? I honestly don’t think we care. Well, maybe Mads does. I’m sure he’ll go home and measure it all on google earth and figure out where the “true” halfway point is. Until then, we will enjoy him cursing at the way markers. And we will enjoy our mid-Camino. Crisis averted.
Halfway!!!
Aussie Parents & their Kids – 19 April 2020
In 2019, when James and I first started planning our Camino, I read an article in the Australian Friends of the Camino newsletter. It was by an Australian, James, about walking the Camino with his 11 year old son Leo.
As James and I were due to walk in 2020 (the year that shall not be mentioned) and James would be 13, I found James’s contact details and sent him an email. Would he be willing to have a chat about what it’s like to walk the Camino with a “child”? He replied promptly, “sure, give me a call.”
We ended up chatting for some time about the logistics and what the experience is like for both the child and the parent. James gave me great insight. He and Leo wrote a great blog about their experience which can be found here – https://leocamino.home.blog
A few days ago I was running into some people we’d met on the way and they kept saying that there was another Australian father and son on the Camino. In my mind I thought, “surely it couldn’t be Leo and James?”
This morning as Mikael, Mads, James and I were leaving Carrion, I saw two people on the side of the road. As we got closer, their faces looked familiar. I approached, “James? Leo?”
They looked at me in surprise, “do we know you?”
“My name’s Grant, we spoke about 3 years ago.”
“Of course,” James replied.
There followed a lovely morning as we all chatted and walked about 17km in an almost straight line along an old Roman road.
It had rained overnight and more was forecast. The maximum temperature was to be 9 degrees. Mikael, Mads, James and I enjoyed a good breakfast of eggs and ham with espresso coffee. Outside it looked cold and we needed this breakfast to get us going.
As we left Carrion I called mum and dad to receive some good news that dad’s cancer treatment is working effectively. It was lovely to see their smiling faces.
Then my best mate Peter called from Australia. It always great to hear his voice.
Then I spoke to Claire who I’m missing terribly.
As I hung up, I looked up to see that the bloody Roman road just kept on going!
James and Leo gave us some great tips for the days ahead, especially getting into and out of Leon, our next big city. They also gave us some tips on where to shop should any of our gear fail, something that is getting more important as I look down at my 3 year old shoes starting to fall apart.
It was nice to see James and Leo chatting for the few hours into Calzadilla de la Cueza. There we all stopped for a cold lunch.
James and Leo had booked in a village 9km further on. The Danes, James and I decided to get a bed here in Calzadilla. We said our farewells. I hope we cross paths again between here and Santiago. Camino magic!
Staying in Calzadilla means a good run into Sahagun, a small city that the guidebook has pilgrims passing through. We will stay there tomorrow night. It may mean a longer day somewhere between here and Leon.
For now, the 4 of us have the albergue to ourselves. We’ve spread our gear out all over the place to air and dry.
After a rest, I walk across the street to a tiny little shop. It is full of great delights. The lady greets me warmly and suggests that I attend her restaurant for dinner. I buy a few things then head back to the albergue.
When it comes time for dinner, I suggest we try the restaurant. It is tiny, but we can see that the lady from the shop is the cook. James orders pasta and lemon chicken, Mikael, Mads and I order the ribs. All I can say is, what a dinner. The food was wonderfully cooked.
They say that an army marches on its stomach. The same goes for pilgrims. If we have a good meal, we’re happy and can walk for hours. A bad meal really darkens our mood.
Manny joins us, as does an Austrian pilgrim who has walked from Fromista (perhaps because the food was so bad in that town).
The barman shouts us a round of a local spirit. It is strong, though appreciated by all.
We are happy and laugh and tell stories. Such joy can be found in these special moments.
As the sun sets, it is raining again.
But, the birds sing a sweet song to farewell the day and we are hopeful that the rain will stay away tomorrow. It has been quite a day on the Camino.
Is the Camino Dying? – 18 April 2022
As I read the guidebook (John Brierley 2022 edition) each evening to see what lies ahead tomorrow, I notice an alarming trend in these rural areas. Behind the population of a town are the words “(and declining)”.
Like small rural towns in Australia, I imagine the children leave for the city for education and employment and never return.
What does this mean for the Camino? Will the smaller villages dwindle away to become ghost towns, making the distance between amenities greater and greater as the years go by?
I hope not, as these little places add character to the walk and often unexpected and not looked for gold. Today, for instance, in the tiny village of Villarmentero de Campos, there is a small oasis, a cafe that serves great coffee and food. The village is so small that the sign announcing you are entering is only 150m or so from the one saying you are leaving.
Manny joins us for coffee. “The Meseta is so boring,” she says before taking a drag on her e-cigarette.
After a breakfast comprising one slice of toast, albergue coffee and a muesli bar, we wonder if we have enough fuel for the day ahead. Mads goes to ask for more toast, but the hospitalero has disappeared.
The way follows the road to Carrion de Los Condes in an almost straight 18km stretch. Today will test the body and the mind.
Despite the sun, it is a cold day. A chill wind often blows across the Meseta making us even colder. Our feet crunch in the gravel. We check out cars as they pass – VW Golf sport, old Fiat, sounds good, Seat, Seat, Seat, Kia, BMW, Mercedes. Crunch, crunch, crunch.
To make today’s 18km even worse, someone decided to include kilometre markers the whole way. So now we can count down each kilometre. Pilgrims don’t need this!!!
We arrive in Carrion de los Condes around midday, both beat up by the wind and the hours on the soulless senda. I’m still fighting a cold and James is tired. We decide upon a nice little hostal for the night – Hostal La Corte. We have our own bathroom, comfortable beds that aren’t bunks and I won’t annoy anyone with my coughing; other than James.
Carrion is a cute little village with multiple plazas, bars and cafes.
We have some pinchos at a local bar for lunch and then walk the streets. It’s hard to get a read on these villages. Some areas are run down whilst around a corner you’ll find brand new Porsche and Mercedes parked on the street.
The square comes alive closer to 8:00pm, the time at which most restaurants seem to open, but by which time we pilgrims are tired and very hungry.
We meet up with Mikael and Mads, then run into Marios from Germany. The bar on the square is full of peregrinó, Ellen & Lisa from the USA, Stefan from Canada, Dazza from England (looking very sunburnt after two 30+km in the Meseta sun), Jasmine (also looking sunburnt) and others. later we run into Maria and Mats, also looking sunburnt after some long days on the Meseta. That gang decided to stay in Burgos for two nights for the partying.
The five of us circle around Carrion trying to find a restaurant that is open and that looks like it has a chef ready to cook. After our experience in Fromista, we’re a little wary.
We eventually settle on the Carrion Cafeteria. After a beer, we settle in for paella and pasta.
Marios has terrible blisters on his heels and has decided to spend another day in Carrion. Hopefully we can meet up in Leon.
Mikael and Mads are staying at an albergue that they say is as cold as a freezer. I hope they have a good night. We have agreed to meet up for breakfast in the morning. The forecast is for a wet and cold day, maximum of 9 degrees. We can only hope the rain falls overnight and we wake to dry skies.
The Long Camino 