Burgos to Hontanas

Day 13 (Monday 20 May) 501 kilometres to Santiago. Last night, for a disappointing dinner at a local restaurant, we were joined by Gerry from Newmarket. During his walk that day he had come across a German lady who had been attacked by 2 sheep dogs. It was at the same point in the trail where I had a picture taken of me earlier, with the sheep in the background. The incident was upsetting, as she had been bitten badly in one calf. She was, apparently, not using walking sticks and therefore had no weapon to hand to fend off the dogs. I have been imagining this sort of incident, as there are so many dogs off-leash, and wondering how I would handle it. I can only picture compressing the top of at least one walking stick so that it became the modern day equivalent of a Roman legionary's gladius (short sword), and then doing battle. That's the image; I hope that I don't have to face the reality. Thinking along these lines does get me wondering what Roman Legion or Legions actually occupied this area of Spain. I think it was the Ninth in Britain (Peter, didn't you study a novel in junior high school called The Eagle of the Ninth?)

True to my new vow, I recovered my laundry from a 4th floor drying rack and hung it on my flex-o-line between my bunk and another before retiring last night. Everything was at hand for an early re-pack of my ruck.

My bed was assigned to me in the municipal albergue (sometimes you get to choose), and it was, unfortunately, adjacent to the toilets - the worst possible place. I slept between about 22:30 and 02:00, and then very little after that, as there seemed to be a constant procession of people going to use the bogs. Each time one of the 2 doors was opened, a light came on automatically and it cast a glare across my bed. The net result is that I rolled out of bed at 05:20. I thought, as did several others, that the front door was unlocked at 06:00. Wrong - the schedule says 06:30. In any case, a hospitallero let's us loose at 06:20. I am one of the first out the door as I plan to walk 32 kilometres today. The weather looks much more promising; broken cloud, no rain, light winds, and the promise of some sunshine. The temperature is in the mid single digits, and forecast to rise to the low teens. I can see my breath as I walk.

Yesterday was a tougher day. In part because of the rainy weather (it grinds on you even when you think that you're handling it). The other factor is the sense that our small group of, mostly, Canadians is unravelling. It's inevitable, of course, with everyone being in different physical shape and walking at different paces. Some people are hobbled by injury, or changing their plans, or outright giving up the Camino altogether. It's not the same experience for everyone. Notwithstanding, even though I am sleep deprived, I am responsible for my feelings and I resolve to treat these events as the beginning of making new friendships rather the loss of some familiar faces. Of our group, it would appear that Caledon Angela, Newmarket Gerry, and me are the only ones who are up for a longer route length today.

I set off in the semi-darkness but Burgos is a large city and it takes me 45 minutes to clear its western outskirts. I don't raise the village of Tarjados on the near horizon until 2 hours later. I stop for desayunos (breakfast). Any mud that I encounter is semi-frozen, so not a problem. Past this village the Meseta begins. I imagine that it derives from the Spanish word for table (la mesa). In any case, Diane's best friends from Winnipeg would feel, topographically, right at home here. I do to, having spent 8 years of my life in southern Manitoba and Saskatchewan. Walking across these Spanish prairies lifts my spirits, even though I am a solitary walker today.

The trail is, for the most, hard and fast. Just before my destination, Hontanas, it turns to sticky mud again. This slows my pace, but I manage to reach the private albergue exactly 7 hours after I started out. They have a bed available. Later, as I'm cleaning my boots and hanging my dhobi laundry, Caledon Angela shows up. It's nice to see a familiar face. I ask about Newmarket Gerry, and she tells me that he woke this morning and decided to pack it in. He's had enough and is going home. I book only 2 seats at the 19:00 sitting in the attached restaurant.

 

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