Sahagun

After leaving San Nicolas, I only made it 7km into Sahagun before my feet gave out. I decided to stay the night so I could think about what to do – whether I should persist with the blisters and tendonitis or take a break again.

My Camino guide stated that Sahagun has a population of 170 000. In a twist of events, someone put a few too many zeroes on and the population was actually closer to 1 700. I really loved it though – it was a bit too grimy and industrial to be called pretty, but was actually a nice change after so many perfect, postcard-picture towns. It felt homey, and the local people were the most hospitable and generous I have ever come across.

I was feeling completely at a loss about what to do; after my extended stay at Amanecer I knew I would have to walk at a pace if I wanted to make it to Santiago in time for my flight, but my feet were very unhappy with this idea. One of the biggest lessons of the Camino has been to listen to your body first and foremost (it is excellent at telling you when to move and when to stop). It doesn’t matter how much planning and training is done, sometimes things just don’t go as expected, and I’m trying to learn to roll with it!

Going along this train of thought, I decided to stay in little Sahagun for “one more day” (these have become my famous last words). As luck would have it, the next day was the Fiesta de San Juan de Sahagun, the annual festival of Saint Juan, Sahagun’s patron saint. How could I miss it?!

The day before the fiesta started, I spent time wondering around Sahagun and visiting its various ancient monasteries and churches, including thr beautiful La Peregruina, a museum/church/former monastery. I was accompanied by a lovely Italian gentleman who was walking the Camino for the second time, and had also completed an Italian Camino and spent some time volunteering in the pilgrim albergues. After a pleasant day and dinner together, he finally told me that his inspiration for the caminoes was that he had terminal cancer, and had already lived longer than his initial prognosis but knew his time was approaching. Under the advice of his doctors he tries to maintain a positive outlook, and hopes to come back to the Camino again. It was a moment of my Camino that left me completely floored, touched and utterly humbled. I cannot put into words how affected I was left by this experience.

It was also a catalyst for my own “lightbulb moment” – I could still make it to Santiago if I pushed myself and pulled some long walking days, but did I want to? What was waiting for me in Santiago? A piece of paper that confirmed I had walked a long way. Was that why I came, what I wanted out of my pilgrimage? Too often along the Camino I had met people who said their reason for walking was to escape the routine and rush of everyday life, but on observing their strict walking schedules and frenetic experience it seemed as though they had merely come to Spain and superimposed that dreaded routine on to a new context. This is not what I am here for.

Upon reflection in Sahagun, I knew I had two options; set off at a frenzied pace and get to Santiago to collect my certificate and gold star, or let the Camino guide me, enjoy the ride and accept that I won’t walk to the end. Choosing the latter was a huge exercise in letting go of ego and making choices that feel right. For every pilgrim I’ve talked to that have scoffed at my “failed Camino”, there have been many that have congratulated me on what I feel to be a Camino that has been more “successful” than I imagined.

The thing about the Camino is that when you listen to it, it delivers the goods! I ended up staying in Sahagun for a week and enjoyed the entire fiesta; it was one of the best weeks of my life. Whenever I have stayed more than a few days in one place I have found that the local people warm to you very much, and Sahagun was no exception. The people have so much pride in their town and its traditions, and were so eager and willing to include me. They showed me the town and took me to their fiesta parties, which were so much fun! During the fiesta the town splits into thirteen groups, all with their own uniform, a headquarters in town and even a marching band! I was invited into team headquarters and parties, and was even part of the impromptu parades. I thought it was hilarious that prior to the fiesta I hadn’t seen a drunk Spaniard, but during the fiesta I barely saw a sober one for four days! The bulls ran everyday, the bars were open 24/7, the nightclubs were still packed at 9am, and some of my new friends didn’t go to bed for over 48 hours at a time!

Sahagun on Monday morning, the first day after the fiesta, was a completely different story. The shops were shut, shutters were drawn and bars were closed as the staff went home for the first time in days. The visitors returned to Leon, and Sahagun returned to the sleepy village that it is. Unsurprisingly, I felt the need for a recovery day, and after that it was time to hit the road!

Sleepy Sahagun

Setting up for Fiesta San Juan, with the ancient city arch in the background

La Peregrina

Sahagun

Fiesta markets

So many homes with beautiful gardens!

Ages – San Nicholas

Friendly pilgrims

Beautiful Burgos

The queue at the doors of the albergue, Burgos

Burgos Cathedral

Wedding time at the Cathedral

Fiesta preparations

University of Burgos

On the road again

Mariana the pilgrim

Roman bridge, Castrojeriz

So many turbines!

12% incline = grumpy Lib

Wild poppies before Boadilla

Canal de Fromista

Amanecer/home

Jonne, Ana & Sam, Amanecer

Amanecer

Mi casa, Amanecer

San Miguel beer, official sponsors of the Camino

Ages – San Nicolas del Real Camino

From Ages I headed to Burgos, a stunning city and one of my favourite places. I ended up staying a few nights so I could explore it properly, and I loved every minute. The cathedral was so beautiful, and the whole city had a really lovely feel; lots of greenery and open public spaces. The atmosphere was especially heightened whilst I was there, as El Noche Blanco was happening, one of Burgos’ biggest fiestas. The whole city was abuzz, and the streets (and bars) were full of revellers and pilgrims alike.
When I finally dragged myself away from Burgos’ beauty, I walked 21km to Hornillos del Camino. It was a sad day of walking, as I said goodbye to Ineke after much time spent together; she stayed longer in Burgos to meet a friend who was starting the Camino. Hornillos was a small place, and looked like the set of a spaghetti western. I expected to see Clint Eastwood riding down the street at any second, and when I commented on this another pilgrim told me that many of the old western films were filmed in northern Spain because so many of these towns had the right aesthetic.

The following day held a pleasant 20km walk to the town of Castrojeriz. It was a very picturesque place set on a hill in the middle of broad plains, with a few nice bars and restaurants. I, along with the British pilgrims I had been walking with, met up with some Australian walkers and had a few (too many) beers while making the most of the afternoon sun.

I was up not so bright but fairly early the next morning to start the 27km walk to Fromista. The first kilometre was along an original Roman road and bridge, followed by a very steep incline and very, very steep descent. I was feeling the beers of the night before by this stage, and feeling very frustrated that I had to walk up a big hill AND back down. I would’ve really appreciated if the Romans could have built a tunnel through, or at least a path around. I think the meseta was working it’s special brand of magic on my fragile head; the meseta is a long flat platform that stretches over several days and is infamous for being the length of the Camino that is the most mentally tough. There is little variation in path or landscape, giving pilgrims a lot of time to think.

Although unrelentingly straight and monotonous, the meseta was beautiful in its own way. I was, however, very glad to reach Fromista, even with it’s claustrophobic municipal albergue. A bed is a bed.

The day I left Fromista is an amazing example of the power of chance. A few kilometres into the walk, the Camino splits into two routes from a town called Poblacion. This is not uncommon along the Camino, and the paths normally meet up on the same day. I chose one over the other for no particular reason, and it led me to a town called Villarmentero de Campos. This tiny town has a resident population of ten (one family of five, and five bachelors; ladies, get in there) and consists of a church, a handful of houses, some crumbling ruins and a slice of heaven called Albergue Amanecer.

Amanecer is a small acreage on the edge of town, and when I entered it felt like an oasis. The road into town is a long and dusty stretch, broken only by the green of albergue’s yard. Many animals roam Amanecer freely; there are two donkeys, Emilio & Mache, three dogs, and countless chickens, geese and ducks with the most beautiful little babies. Hammocks hang from the trees, and orchestral covers of Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd complete the picture of serenity.

Although I hadn’t planned to stay in Villarmentero, it was simply too good to pass up! I hired a small wooden hut around the back, which was such a nice change from the cramped dormitories filled with the Symphony Orchestra of Snorers. I didn’t take long to settle in; I found a hammock and a beer and was one very happy pilgrim!

It was the epitome of paradise and impossible to leave, so I ended up staying for ten days! It was such a privilege to spend time in such a beautiful place with beautiful people. It was run by a Dutch volunteer/pilgrim called Wilbert, who has dedicated his life to helping people in various ways and is one of the most special people I’ve had the honour to call a friend. Two other pilgrims, Vita from Lithuania and Bernart from Hungary, also stayed for an extended period – we renamed Amanecer ‘Hotel California’ because you can never leave! By the end, Wilbert referred to us as his children, and would often disappear with Jesus, the owner of Amanecer, for hours at a time and leave us in charge!

Jesus was also a really lovely person; he spoke no English but helped me very much with my Spanish, teaching me how to say important phrases such as “I hate walking”, “I will be a pilgrim tomorrow” and “Santiago is here, no more walking”. When one of the baby chicks was rejected by its mother, Jesus adopted it and wasn’t seen without it for days, determined that it would survive if he hand-reared it. He named it Libby, because that way I would always be at Amanecer!

Although I seriously considered taking up Jesus’ kind offer of living at Amanecer forever, it finally felt like it was time to hit the road again and carry on to Carrion de los Condes. By this stage I had well and truly sacrificed the walking schedule, but nothing could have been more worth it. It was really emotional saying farewell to my new home and family, and quite surreal to put my boots and pack back on!

Carrion was a really beautiful town; I stayed in the monastery and spent the afternoon wandering it’s ancient streets. After being in a town with a population of ten people for a stretch of time, it was an adjustment returning to civilisation! Carriom has a population of a few thousand, and it was quite stressful with all of the cars and bars and people!

The following day I was back on the flat stretch again; the walk from Carrion to Calzadilla de la Cueza is 17km of Roman road, and one of the longest stretches of the Camino without a town. Although complaining about 17kms without a town sounds ridiculous to Australians, I have become very accustomed to regular coffee/snack stops and so was not enthused! I had also been warned by many pilgrims that it was another stretch that was notorious for its mental toughness, because of the long, flat monotony and the aforementioned lack of snacks. I actually found it to be really pleasant; maybe because I was still fresh after my mid-Camino holiday! The only downside was that the blisters were back…

I ended up staying two nights in tiny Calzadilla to give the blisters a chance to heal, and was very well looked after by the lovely locals. When I hit the road again, I headed 16km to San Nicolas del Real Camino, a very cute little place that is the last town in the province of Palencia – the next day I entered Provincia de Leon!

P.s. sorry it’s been a long time between posts, and thank you for your messages. I haven’t sorted through photos yet, but will hopefully add some in in the next few days!

Days 14 – 21: Navarette – Najera – Ciruena – Santo Domingo de la Calzada – Viloria de la Rioja – Belorado – Villafranca Montes de Oca – Ages

Day 14
Today’s walk was 18km from lovely Navarette to Najera. A serious drop in temperature! The weather went from 33°C one day to 14°C the next. The walk through La Rioja’s vineyards

La Rioja

Najera

was beautiful, but Najera itself was quite derelict.

Day 15
The 15km from Najera to Ciruena was stunning. Francesco, who ran the albergue, was so friendly and accomodating. The town was tiny, and their biggest fiesta of the year had been the previous day, so it was very, very quiet. During the fiesta they give donuts to everyone, so gutted that I m

Poppies everywhere!

issed it!

Day 16
I started in Ciruena with the intention of walking through the town of Santo Domingo de la Calzada, but it was such a gorgeous place so I decided to stay!

The walk itself was so jawdropping, through rolling hills of wheat – every breath of breeze waves through the whole landscape.

Santo Domingo had a really beautiful church, tower and plaza, and amazing chocolate shops!

The town’s namesake was born in the early 11th Century, and desperately wanted to be a priest. However, he was denied the opportunity to study because he was illiterate, and so instead devoted his life to the Camino, building roads and bridges along much of the way to make passage easier for pilgrims. As a sidenote, he is the patron saint of engineers!

Local legend has it that in the 13th Century, a local barmaid fell for a German pilgrim travelling with his parents, and became so incensed that her feelings were unrequited that she accused the poor boy of theft, for which he was hanged. His parents continued their pilgrimage to Santiago whilst grieving for their son. On their way back they passed through SDdlC to visit his grave, and found his body still hanging from the gallows, but miraculously alive! They rushed to the town mayor to ask that he be cut down. The mayor, who was about to start his dinner, said to them that their son was as alive as the fowl he was about to eat. As soon as the words left his mouth, his dinner stood up, sprouted feathers and crowed loudly as it strutted of his plate! The miracle was attributed to Santo Domingo, who cared for all true pilgrims.

I was actually a bit iffy about the whole story, but thankfully it was verified by a German philosopher who visited the town two centuries later and said that the story must be true because he saw the grill that the bird was cooked on. How can I deny the legitimacy of the tale now?!

What is an interesting quirk is that the church in the centre of town has kept a chicken and a rooster on display near the altar ever since.

Camino lovin' on the way

Santo Domingo from the bell tower

Nom nom nom

Pilgrims everywhere!

Day 17
Today’s walk from Santo Domingo to Viloria de la Rioja was 15km, and very warm again! Viloria was a very quaint town, and really pretty. It has a population of less than 40, and without a shop or bar. Thankfully the lady who ran the albergue offered to make me a sandwich for lunch!

The albergue was in a house that was hundreds of years old, and was so typically Spanish with the whitewashed walls and exposed timber beams. It had only recently opened as an albergue and the couple who ran it were so lovely; they charge €5 for a bed and a donation for a paella dinner. Brilliant!

I loved this building so much!

Viloria

Day 18
I had a big day planned from Viloria, but was so cold and rain-soaked that I stopped 8km later in Belorado. By 1pm it was still only 7°C! I was so rugged up in thermals, beanie and mittens but felt like my nose was going to freeze over and fall off. A bottle of red shared over lunch fixed the issue, followed by an afternoon in bed!

Hilarious local graffiti

Day 19
Today I had a very lazy morning of walking; there were villages every few kilometres, so I took 4 hours to walk the 12kms to Villafranca Montes de Oca, with lots of coffee stops!

Villafranca was a gorgeous town with a really lovely church (I didn’t actually get to look inside because everything in Spain seems to be closed for most hours of the day!).

When I was standing in the albergue’s foyer there was a man who didn’t speak any Spanish, and the lady didn’t speak any English. I felt like the most clever person in the world when I could use my very basic Spanish to translate. Fast forward a few hours, and I was on the phone trying to book a bed for the following night. The lady on the other end asked if I could please speak English because she couldn’t understand my Spanish!

Bed with a view!

Remains of the monastery!

The amazing food display in the restaurant I had lunch at

Pretty paths!

Day 20
Today’s 16km walk from Villafranca to Ages was pretty, and still very, very cold. The first 12km was very hilly, and there wasn’t a single café! It’s the longest stretch I’ve gone without a coffee in the morning! The beautiful woodland paths made up for it.

Ages was a beautiful little town, with two bars! The choice felt like such a luxury!

A woman in the village, Anya, let’s pilgrims sleep on mattresses on her floor for a donation, and it was one of my favourite places so far. Anya is such a fascinating woman; she is a Norwegian doctor who spent many years working in Africa with Medicin Sans Frontiers, and after walking the Camino fell in love with it and decided to retire on the track and provide a place for pilgrims to sleep. She was so kind and very hospitable, down to the fresh baked bread and homemade jam for breakfast. Her house was built in the mid-18th Century and is so beautiful.

Beautiful woods

Beautiful messages left on the way

Days 11 – 13: Sansol – Viana – Navarette

Day 11
The walk from Sansol to Viana was a very leisurely 12kms. I ran into Ineke, a pilgrim from Port Augusta whom I had met in Saint Jean, so we walked together and caught up on the last few weeks. Our early start was rewarded when we arrived at our destination of Viana by 10:30am. There was nothing to do but to enjoy a few cold beers in the plaza overlooking the cathedral! I had heard that we are supposed to drink beer everyday after walking to replenish minerals lost in our sweat, so we thought it very important to look after our health. We tried our hardest to keep the smirks off our faces as pilgrims walked past, with another 10kms to go to the next town.

We were joined by Inga, an Austrian cougar of indeterminable age who terrified both of us, as well as every male who walked past. Kathryn, whom I had met previously, also joined us; she is a former private investigator and crime novelist from Oklahoma who shares a similar taste in books to myself.

We followed this up with an afternoon of shopping; I bought a very glamorous (read: hideous) pair of hiking sandals.

The albergue in town was fine, but it was very unfortunate that the mattresses and pillows were covered in a lino-like plastic, which was not particularly pleasant for the hot night ahead.

Upon leaving Viana, we found out that one of the Borgias was buried in town, and we were so involved in our sangria and tapas that we missed it! Ho hum.

Fashion. I wear them with socks too

Day 12
Today was one of the hardest days of walking yet. It was 24km from Viana to Navarette in over 30 degree heat. I walked with Ineke, and we agreed that we would have passed out on the side of the road if we weren’t together! We left at 4:45am, and stopped in Logrono for delicious breakfast. It seemed to be a beautiful city, and because the cottonwood trees were in bloom it looked like everything was covered in snow.

Most of the walk was on a concrete path through industrial/city areas; it is so different to what we are used to, and was very hard on the feet and legs. It was also much less motivating without beautiful scenery! We collapsed on a bench and were having a laugh (bordering hysterical) at how much we were struggling when a kind Spanish gentleman who was walking by reminded us that it is a very, very long way to Santiago. Cheers.

I was so relieved when we could finally see Navarette ahead of us, although I was wishing it wasn’t on a hill. We saw a sign saying seven minutes to an albergue which put a spring in our steps. Twenty minutes later we were still hobbling along when we saw a sign saying it was only another three minutes. Fifteen minutes later, at 1:30pm, we found a hotel and decided to stay – I’m not sure if we were walking much, much slower than the average pilgrim or if the albergue is a myth.

Regardless, I am a very, very happy little walker, as Ineke and I decided to split a room in a nice hotel. There is not a lino bed in sight.

Impressive local gardens

Logrono

Day 13
I had very good intentions for a solid day of walking today, I really did. However, after a twelve hour sleep and delicious breakfast, it was decided that we couldn’t bear to part with our lovely hotel room, so decided to explore the sights of Navarette. There is a cathedral, a bar lined plaza and a lookout, and not much else; I now know the three pretty well.

This afternoon we had a real taste of Spain; when the air conditioning stopped working, Ineke, a Spanish speaker, went to ask about it at reception. The girl at the desk said simply “I’m not sure why it’s not working, but at least it’s not too hot”, and that was that. We laughed ourselves silly.

After a day of rest and sangria I’m feeling a little sad at the prospect of leaving tomorrow. All of this walking really is starting to interrupt my camino lifestyle.

Navarette

Days 7 – 10: Cizur Menor – Puente la Reina – Estella – Villamayor de Montjardin – Sansol

Days 3 – 4: Roncesvalles – Viskarret – Larrasoana

A nice few days. The walk from Roncesvalles to Viskarret was much gentler than the day before; some up and downhills but easier terrain, and only 12km.

It started with a walk through the Oakwood of Witches, the site of 16th Century Witch covens. Nine women from the area were burnt at the stake. Luckily there is a large, white stone cross to protect pilgrims. I also passed through a small town called Burguette, made famous by Ernest Hemingway’s frequent visits.

The town of Viskarret was very small; I was lucky to split a pension room with two other pilgrims, but many were turned away and had to walk on. It was such a different experience staying in a smaller accommodation, and meant that all pilgrims could sit around the table to share a meal and a few bottles of wine

Witch wood

Flatter terrain

The walk from Viskarret to Larrasoana was 16km, and returned to more varied terrain. I developed a huge (and very sore) blister during the day, and hiked the last 6km in thongs (would not recommend).

I was very relieved to arrive in Larrasoana, where I shared a small hostel with a few ladies I had met. It was lovely to be able to cook a meal together and stroll around the (very tiny) town. When we were picking up a few groceries for dinner, the store owner was excited to have visitors to the area and gave us a glass of wine each!

Looking back at Viskarret

I needed this encouragement!

Heavily wooded landscape

Days 5 – 6: Larrasoana – Pamplona

Unfortunately the situation was not great with my blisters; I couldn’t get my boot on, and sadly chose to catch a taxi into Pamplona rather than walk the 17ish km. I was pretty gutted that I couldn’t complete the walk, but after talking to a few pilgrims who had done the Camino before I decided that it would be better in the long run to rest it and avoid causing more problems. I was able to share the taxi with a few other injured/weary walkers.

I’ve enjoyed exploring Pamplona; it’s a very beautiful city. I loved walking along the old city walls, looking out over the new city and the mountains beyond. Although I’ve had two nights, it would be great to be able to have more time to explore the lane ways, cafés and pintxos bars.

It also marks my first big reassess of what I have packed; I bought a lightweight sleeping bag, and will be heading to the post office shortly to send a package of unneeded things home to lighten my pack.

The culprit

The street my pension is on

Part of the city wall

Day 2: Orisson to Roncesvalles/Roncevaux

Day 2 was much more challenging! At 16km, the track climbed from an elevation of 750m up to the highest point of Col de Lepoeder at 1450m and back down to Roncesvalles at 950m.

The wind at the higher elevations was extreme. I felt so exposed walking along the track, and at times the wind would push me almost over; it was actually pretty scary. There was also snow on the track at times. This meant that I didn’t have a chance to safely stop. I walked passed a cross marking the spot where a pilgrim died making the mountain cross two seasons ago; I can see how things could go very wrong very quickly. It is supposed to be the toughest part of the whole Camino, and for any Martin Sheen fans it is where his character’s son died in The Way. I was glad to start the steep ascent into Roncesvalles, which was through one of the largest remaining beech forests in Europe and felt very protected after the morning.

I’m not sure when I crossed the border into Spain, but apparently there is a cattle grid marking the spot (very anti-climactic). Regardless, almost all of the names and signs have been in Spanish and French. It has been interesting to see that local communities do not define themselves as French or Spanish, but rather as Basque or Navarrese, cultural groups with their own very distinct cuisine and language, and a long history of fighting.

Roncesvalles was a beautiful town; it has a population of less than 100 and has been receiving “all pilgrims – sick and well, Catholics, Jews, pagans, heretics and vagabonds” since the 12th century. The pilgrim accommodation is attached to the very grand, austere church and used to act as a pilgrim’s hospital. It is run by volunteers and houses 120+ pilgrims in one room. The town consists of the albergue (pilgrim accomodation), the church, a chapel and two small hotels.

I had a really nice pilgrim’s dinner, and am loving that unlimited red wine is included in literally anything you buy! A fellow pilgrim, Shae, a 65 year old Texan yoga teacher, described the Camino as “a never-ending picnic”…

Snow capped peaks in the distance

A very icy track

Beech trees for days

Albergue in Roncesvalles

Day 1: St Jean to Orisson

The first day of walking was fairly short, starting at St Jean Pied de Port and finishing at Orisson, in the Pyrenees. At only 8 kilometres long, the walk took about 2.5 hours, starting at an elevation of 120m above sea level and finishing at 750m. The views were stunning!

Fellow pilgrims were all very friendly and supportive. I even saw a couple who were singing and playing guitar overtake me; I could barely breathe on the uphill so I’m not sure how they could sing. I enjoyed taking my time though; an Irish pilgrim who comes back every year to do a different section of the Camino told me that I “must take time to stop and smell the donkey shit”.

The accomodation at Orisson had beautiful views over the Pyrenees and a nice pilgrim’s dinner. The pilgrims seem to be a hugely varying range of ages and nationalities. All in all a successful first day!

0km down, 800km to go

Very tired feet resting on the way up

The Pyrenees from my dorm window at Orisson