Ages to Burgos

Day 11 (Sunday 19 May) 527 kilometres to Santiago. My sister Susan and her husband David mentioned that their grandchildren thought that the total distance of my walk would be about the same as Ottawa to Hamilton. That motivated me to look that up; one on-line calculator says that driving distance is 523 kilometres. So, if that's true, my walking distance should be closer to Ottawa to Sault Ste Marie (793 kilometres). In any case, doing it in Northern Spain is more interesting, especially because I don't have to walk on highways very often.

Yesterday, as I was working on a new blog post, NY Chris, looking at the length of it, said that I ought to turn it into a novel. I said that I'd give it serious consideration if it weren't for the fact that eating is a hard habit to break. I'm also making sure that my blog is non-fiction, with the occasional embellishment for the sake of humour.

Last evening I enquired about the 19:00 pilgrims' sitting at the restaurant next door, only to be told that it was full. The next one would be at 21:00. The hospitallero at our albergue directed me to another restaurant down the street and indicated that I would have to make a reservation in person. After obtaining a head count of those that were interested, I jogged through a cold rain to book a table for 8. As I did so, a loud clap of thunder echoed through the village. This part of the world has interesting spring weather.

We arrived for our 19:00 booking to find a pleasantly set table in one corner of the small dining room, with a "reserva" sign in the middle. The menu was fixed: ensalada mixto, bread (pan), wine, and paella. That suited everybody. It turned out to be the best paella that I've ever had. To top off our evening, our server brought out one dessert cake with a candle on it so that we could sing Happy Birthday to NY Chris. He is leaving us tomorrow by bus for the American Consulate in Madrid, to try to arrange an extension to the standard European Union 90 day tourist "visa". He's been on the continent for some weeks and is worried that his official tourist allowance will run out before his travel plans do.

I do not sleep well last night and am out of bed at 06:15, and underway for Burgos (21 kilometres away) by 07:00. One of my father's favourite quotes was from Hamlet: This above all, to thine own self be true, and it follows, as the night the day, thou can'st not be false to any man. I intend to keep that wisdom in mind as I walk.

I check my rest area carefully before I leave, to ensure that I've left nothing behind, and even do my calf stretches outside before I set off. I'm in full rain gear. The overnight forecast temperature was 2 degrees, but it feels slightly warmer than that. A steady light rain is falling. Parts of the trail are quite muddy. On some sections, there is a grass verge to the right that is heavily used in order to avoid the worst of the mud. Other parts of the path are covered in sharp stones. I concentrate on each step as I make my way through, as the risk of a sprained ankle is evident. I've come to the conclusion that no matter what you do on the Camino, you have to do it carefully and deliberately. Even turning around to see if anyone is coming up from behind: stop, turn, look, turn, step off. I suppose that this is a variation of the adage that if it's worth doing, it's worth doing right, with an emphasis on avoiding putting a foot wrong and ruining the whole pilgrimage. At one point I stop for a water break and accidentally drop my water bottle top. There are sheep droppings on the trail, so I take out an alcohol swab and clean the top before putting it back on.

As is my custom, I start out without breakfast and look for a place to stop enroute. Today there are 2 villages that are off-trail, but I don't risk deviating because it's early on a Sunday morning and there will not likely be anything open. After more than 2 hours, I raise the village of Cardenuela. I stop for breakfast and, out of an abundance of caution, clean my water bottle with a purpose-built tablet from Camelback. I've heard several stories about people forgetting to pay for a breakfast or lunch meal, including one from Caledon Angela. I almost follow suit, but I only walk a few metres before I catch my error and return.

Leaving Cardenuela, the rain has eased, but not stopped. The previous evening a friend of Caledon Angela had recommended an alternative route into Burgos; along a river instead of the 2-lane highway. As I'm about to turn onto this trail, I encounter a Spanish couple coming the opposite way. As they pass, they say in English: "much mud". Although I'm uncomfortable with the passage of high speed traffic on the narrow road that I'm walking, I stay with it rather than risk another quagmire. I walk around Burgos airport and into the outlier town of Villafria. From here, I walk for 2 hours on hard pavement or sidewalk through the industrial outskirts of Burgos and into the centre of the city (population 170,000), looking for the municipal albergue. I find it at 12:30, five and one half hours after departing Ages. There is a line out the door,waiting to register. It takes me 45 minutes to reach the front desk. I consider going back out after I've checked in, to look for a new T-shirt and a pair of socks, but almost all the stores were closed on my walk through town (except for some bars, cafes, and bakeries), so I don't bother. Of course the rain stops just as I arrive at the albergue

As I head downstairs to do some laundry, a pleasant surprise. Calgary Lise and Dutch Yvonne are walking up to their dorms. They had to take a bus from the last town because of a thunderstorm that included hail. I do a tour of the massively ornate Burgos Cathedral before supper. Over the top. Supper follows at a local restaurant. Unfortunately it turns out to be the worst of the pilgrims' meals that we've had so far. That, combined with the weather and the fact that some people may be changing their plans (Victoria Ali for sure), has rendered this day a bit of a downer. Checking my map, I sense that I will have to do about 32 kilometres tomorrow on my own with no guarantee of a bed at the other end. Well, things will pick up. This is still an adventure like no other.

 

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