Be The Tortoise Is My Walking Mantra

First Day!   First Joy!

The peak experience of the walk was to Monte Irago. Perched on the top of this mountain is the Cruz De  Ferro, one of the most memorable and significant spots of the The Camino. My premier goal of the walk was to reach this cross and leave my gift. Fortunately, we would start at Foncebadon. The village of Foncebadon,  home of the 12th century hermit/Bishop Gaucelmo who built a simple church and pilgrim hospice, is undergoing a restoration of some of its abandoned houses.

But first, we did a warm-up walk through the pretty village of Castrillo De Los Polvazares. Our group assembled and posed for the one and only photo I have of the entire group together. Thank you to Paul the Dad who took the picture.

We strolled through the main street as light played across the lovely stone walls. Green doors and shutters brightened up the earthy tones of walls and streets.

A silent, creepy feeling stirred inside my stomach because it was a lonesome looking place with no sign of life. The few cars we saw were parked and no drivers nor passengers were in sight. Life surrounded the village with flowers, trees, green fields and pastures. Soon we exited this vacation place waiting to be discovered and jumped into our vans for Foncebadon. 

On to the cross

        

After the warm-up, the real walk began. We were dropped off at a spot to buy a drink and/or use a restroom. We began the ascent. I followed the advice of Joyce Rupp to "walk in a relaxed manner'. Also, I shortened my step to help prevent blisters and save my knees. And I used the trick of slopping vaseline all over my feet. Never a blister did I have.  

The trail wound around the hillside and up and up and up. Immediately, I became short of breath and turned dark red. The heat is not my friend. The temperature would reach the high 90's by afternoon. I was one of the first on the trail knowing I would soon be roadkill. Soon, I was at the back of the pack passing and chatting and being passed, but visiting with the other Americans along the way. The ascent was shorter than I thought and I arrived at the cross in forty minutes. 

I held my obsidian rock in my hand to place on the mound and thought of the symbolism I had heard about leaving this gift. The symbol of leaving a "gift" started as a pagan rite of gratitude. other meanings have developed over the centuries. I questioned myself. Do I have a burden to leave behind? Do I have a cross to to carry? Are there sins to be forgiven?  I believed this act to be very personal. I, and one other person in our group, brought  a stone from home to place on the mound. I left my rock, which I found on the highway to Burney Falls and Alturas, to mark a moment of gratitude. I thanked all of the people in my life who  taught me the joy of walking in the mountains. Thank you to my travel  mates who shared joy with me on trails in high and low places. My joy as I left my rock almost lifted me off my feet.

Communication mast on top  distant hill

Leaving the cross behind, we headed slightly downward toward Manjarin passing flowering shrubs and plants. The vistas across to the mountains and valleys as we walked the rolling landscape lessened the toil of the walk. We did not arrive in Manjarin in time for the daily blessing of the pilgrims nor to hear the tape of the Gregorian chants and Taize hymns. However, it provided a resting spot and an opportunity to lotion up and drink water.  

Manjarin was brought to life by a modern-day knight Thomas. Not only did he initiate the medieval traditions above, but "the simple facilities are being organically developed along ecological lines." For us, it was a resting, breathing spot, but others would partake of a communal meal, a shower and a mattress for sleep.

Our dad and daughter team from Toronto kept an eye out for we who trailed behind as we traversed the undulations.

The undulations would take us around Punto Alto and below the communication tower (I was told our every step was being watched) which we viewed almost from the beginning of the walk. It is barely visible on the top of the mountain. As we continued our way over and down the undulations(mostly over) in the heat, I welcomed the magenta heather, the gorse, the vistas of the misty mountains and valleys below us. Most of all, I enoyed the company and conversation with new friends to keep me going.

Our leader picked we slowpokes up before we reached a steep incline filled with slabs of slippery shale (which did not phase certain others of our group).  I was delighted to head to lunch  at the Meson El Acebo. Our main meal of the day was lunch and we always had a typical three-course meal. That day it was a very large plate of peas and ham, pork with potatoes and ice cream for dessert. Wine and other cold drinks were always available.

Happy chatter and banter created a festive mood during lunch.

Our altitude was roughly 4500 feet, but it seemed like the top of this world.

 My goals for the day to reach the Iron Cross and walk ten kilometers were accomplished. 

Now I was happy accept a ride to our hotel in Molinaseca.

After a rest and shower I headed to the nearby plaza on the river. Big Surprise. I walked right by a Murphy's Pub.  Raucous noises flew out the door, but I resisted the call (I don't drink beer) and headed on toward the plaza to hook up with the group.

The Meson El Palacio was definitely the laid back hangout where everyone congregated to be by the river. The British and half of the Canadian contingencies were settled in at a table and I pulled up a chair to join them. 

Laid back was not the word for our waitress who rushed around filling orders. Once we decided on food and caught her eye and ordered and waited for the food to be delivered, we spent more than enough time  to tell our tales of the day. To be sure and fair, everyone in the plaza was ordering food. Soon, we were joined by the Canadian and Australian couples. The mood exuded a "the summer is easy" feel and I settled into relax mode. The other Americans arrived later and found a table. All was well. When it was time to settle up, the waitress was a whirlwind trying to total a zillion tabs at once.                                                                                                                                  

                                                                                                                                                                

                                                                                                                                                                

Not every person was sitting around eating and drinking. After I paid my tab I stepped over to the river to watch people playing in the river. A light breeze cooled down the evening as the water cooled those in the river.

I crossed the Rio Meruelo via the old Roman bridge and headed back to the hotel to do laundry and settle in for a night of deep sleep.

The Hotel La Floriana is a modern hotel with nice amenities and very proper service. Someone introduced playful sculptures into the lobby and yard. Everyone is familiar with the famous Spanish hams, but I learned about a popular dish that is created by stuffing the intestine of a pig. Now, whether this involves morcilla - a blood sausage with rice or offal and other ingredients or something else entirely, I am not sure what. But I have been told that it tastes AWFUL I heard it makes haggis taste like a delicacy. But here you see the hotel's sculptures give proud tribute to the pig and it's intestine. ???

Tomorrow I walk into a cloud.

''Walks in Spain " The Gathering

The Pauls are the force that drives "Walks in Spain" and, also, drive the vans for the tour walkers. We benefitted from their careful organization and adaptability skills to experience a walk of a lifetime. They were our guides and "know-everything" gurus. When plans changed, they helped us move with the flow. Their smiles and suggestions helped each of us find the walk that worked for us. But first we gathered together.

Lucky for me, The Pauls put me in touch via email with two couples from the Boston area. Our arrivals in Santiago coincided on the same days which led to a lunch meeting on Saturday at Las Caracoles Restaurant for a sumptuous seafood feast and a taste of the famous dish pulpo gallego. We found common ground discussing walks, books, food and history. Turns out some of us are "food movie" collectors. I was happy to connect with fellow travelers. The gathering together began.

Soaked and empty streets on Sunday morning(early, of course) resulted in a trek to find an open bar/cafe. My only company were the men riding the hose machines to clean up the streets.

The first place with an open door was dark inside, but I saw two men inside drinking coffee and decided to enter. The tables filled up quickly. The man in the back had just completed his second walk on the "Camino". He and his wife did the first walk a few years ago. Now, they have written a book "The Italian Odyssey" about walking into Italy from Austria...or, somewhere. 




The Zumo machine is for a friend who is an aficianado of fresh orange juice..

Pickup time to head out of Santiago was 10:45A.M. I waited impatiently with my suitcase in front of my hotel. The big black Mercedes van arrived with the Americans and a couple from Australia already ensconced. Next stop - Astorga.

Our lovely old Hotel Casa de Tepa in Astorga is a gem with its elegant stone facade and its newly restored interior.  The rooms were stunning. As I saw a cot being pushed down a hall, I guessed I, as a single, would have the teeny room, but no, I was on the ground floor in a stunning master suite with a  paisley covered sofa and a luxurious bathroom.






A welcome buffet was planned for later in the evening, so, after dropping our bags in our rooms, we were herded out toward the plaza a few blocks away to have our midday meal. The plaza was pleasant and the menu readable, but we ran into a communication problem with our waiter as we fumbled with our Spanish to describe exactly what we wanted. One by one we finally managed to order what we wanted and have it delivered. The bill was settled amicably. The interaction led to more discussion and joviality as we became more acquainted with one another.

What's a plaza without a church? The bell tower boasted a female and male statue whose jobs were to came to life and strike the bell with their gongs....frequently. One had to look quickly to catch their  motions. 

Back at the hotel I wandered in the gardens awaiting the evening when all of us would meet and gather together for our first official meal together.

Careful preparations for our welcoming reception were underway all afternoon. I watched them change the tablecloth three times. The elegance was a surprise which contrasted with my image of all us walking on dusty trails the next morning. But I was not complaining.

Finally, we all gathered together and Paul the Dad opened the evening with a presentation of our detailed itinerary and daily procedures. I appreciated the details for each day which included the names of the towns, hotels and inns where we would start our walks, eat our meals and sleep at night.






The gathering was complete. Our group consisted of five people from the United States, four from Canada, three from the United Kingdom and two from Australia. As we passed the platters of Spanish hams, cheeses, salads and breads the conversation was lively. We raised our glasses in toasts to our guides, ourselves and the walk we would begin in the morning.

By the conclusion of the evening I knew we would establish a comraderie and fellowship on the road. 

My only regret about Astorga was that the Episcopalian church designed by Gaudi was closed, therefore, I did not take a picture of it even though it was next door to the hotel.