Belorado to Ages

Day 11 (Saturday 18 May) 550 kilometres to Santiago. I have warm enough clothes for the trail, but perhaps not enough for a cold albergue. I lay in my bunk for a while yesterday just to warm up, although I still adhered to my policy of no napping. I went down to the kitchen to stand by the wood stove after that. The Korean contingent had cooked their own communal meal and were in the process of enjoying it. They may be making the effort to cook for economy reasons, but I suspect that the pleasure of eating familiar dishes is a large part of their motive. We dined last night in the on-site restaurant. The meal was good, but the fresh vegetables once again failed to appear. It's back to relying on ensaladas.

I woke this morning at 06:00 and was underway at 06:45, having been advised by Netherlands Herman and Joyce that the on-site 3 Euro breakfast wasn't worth it. The temperature felt like a degree or two above zero, but the wind was light and there was no rain from the mid-level broken clouds. About 4 kilometres out of Belorado I had another "oh no" moment. I leaned on my walking sticks as I realized that I had left a T-shirt and a pair of socks in the laundry room. They were not quite dry last night and I told myself that I'd pick them up in the morning. It's not the loss of the clothing, of course, it's the mild shame of being careless. I'll pick up some replacements tomorrow in Burgos (if there is the right store open on Sunday). In the interim, I'll have to work harder at my new, hard won policy: everything has to be under or beside my bed before I go to sleep, even if I have to put my damp laundry in a plastic bag. If not, I'll be adding to a reputation that I really don't want.

There was no coffee in the next village, Tosantos, so I pressed on to Villambistia. There was coffee available there, but the breakfast offerings were meagre. Another breakfast stop in Epinosa del Camino, 2 kilometres on, fixed that. The coffee in northern Spain is universally excellent (not like your experience in Prague, Mona). It puts those Bunn coffee makers that you see all over Ottawa to shame. The only drawback is that it's cheaper to buy a glass of vino tinto (1 Euro) than a cafe con leche (1.5 Euro). I actually saw one pilgrim drinking wine with her morning pastry. It reminded me of a flight safety course that I took years ago, wherein a flight surgeon explained that normal people take a drink to feel good and alcoholics take a drink to feel normal.

After the next village, Villafranca, the terrain starts to rise; there will be 400 metres of ascent today (peaking at 1,150 metres), to add to the 28 kilometre distance to my destination. I'm dressed in shorts, but have 3 layers on top as the temperature remains low and the wind begins to rise as I ascend. Getting close to the height of land, I chat with 2 girls from Slovenia. Our conversation is a fractured mix of English and German. My pathetic German contributes such eloquent statements as "keine schnee" (no snow). I had half expected to see some at the summit of this ridge line, but no. The wind comes up again though, to the point where I put on my toque for the first time. Yesterday I listened to the steady patter of rain drops on the hood of my jacket. Today the weather holds fine, but the previous day's rain has rendered some parts of the trail muddy. This slows my pace somewhat and, at least temporarily, adds to the weight of my boots. I think of Rex Harrison singing "the rain in Spain ...", and think "bollocks". The high ground gets it too. Though as I recall, My Fair Lady didn't have a preface saying that it was based on a true story.

 

My guide book recommends staying in St. Juan de Ortega, but there were better albergue choices in the next town, so we reserved a block of 8 beds in Ages the night before. Talking to many people who have done the Camino in the past, the almost universal opinion is that it's changing fast. There are now more people and therefore much more competition for beds. The "race" atmosphere is not what anyone wants, but being told that there are no beds available in mid-afternoon and being directed to the next town 5 or 10 kilometres on, when you've already walked 25, would not be a pleasant experience. Like it or not, it's happening. We surmise that there are at least 3 causal factors:

1. The popularity of the John Brierley guide book, which tends to concentrate walkers in the same towns and villages;
2. The Yuppie preference for more upscale albergues, which tends to overburden the ones that are here now; and
3. The popularity of the movie The Way (which co-stars my friend Ron Huibers; notwithstanding what the credits say about who plays the Dutchman alongside Martin Sheen).

Our tactic for the near term is to have the hospitallero call ahead to the next private albergue that is highly, if subjectively, rated and reserve the required number of beds. This approach will not likely last for long, but it has worked well for us on 3 occasions so far.

As I approach the village of Ages, my heels are giving me some discomfort. I know exactly what the problem is: plantar's fasciitis. This is a tightening of the calf muscles that, in turn, causes the tendons or ligaments or whatever in the feet to tighten up. In my case, this condition manifests itself as heel pain (Bob and Eleanor, if you're reading this, forgive the medical imprecision of my explanation). In any case, all I have to do is some calf stretching exercises and I'll gradually get better. I have been remiss in this department, but resolve to do better.

The albergue that I check into is really good. I have a single, low rise bed for the first time. I didn't have lunch on the road, so I drop into the next-door restaurant for a bacon and egg sandwich and a glass of wine. I follow this with a shower in the best facilities that I have had yet. Some of the others start straggling in by mid-afternoon.

 

 

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