Astorga to Foncebadon

Day 24 (Friday 31 May) 264 kilometres to Santiago.

Getting ready to go this morning, I picked up a plasticized card in the bathroom that had the expected message concerning preserving the profit margin of the hotel ... I mean the environment, by reusing the available towels. What raised a smile was that the Spanish "estimado cliente" had been translated as "estimated client". In keeping with my new status, I think that my time of departure was approximately 06:40.

It's another fine day. A drugstore sign says that the temperature is plus 7. I make my way out of the city along the route that I had recce'd yesterday. What I did not notice the day before in bright sunlight are yellow LED lights embedded in the pavement to illuminate the Camino path through the city. This strikes me as an expensive solution. Perhaps some municipal councillors felt the same because long before I clear the built up area, the lights disappear.

I stop in Murias de Rechivaldo for breakfast (French toast - a first), and then carry on through gently rolling terrain. After passing through Santa Catalina de Somoza, I encounter Gary from Sydney (not Cape Breton, the other one). He has put in 10 years of employment with his company and is therefore entitled to 3 months "long service leave" (a benefit of working in Australia). He's spending a large part of that doing the Camino. What strikes me is that our conversation falls into a familiar pattern. We're both talking about things that we've now talked about a few times before with other people. The trail itself is constantly changing, but I suspect that original conversation will become progressively harder to find. When I stop to stow my jacket, Gary carries on.

As I approach Rabanal, my intended destination, it's only 11:30, so I decide to press on a little further. The trail goes steadily upward as I head for Foncebadon. When I enter the village, it's about 12:45, and I have come about 27 kilometres from Astorga. I check into an albergue and almost instantly regret it. The hospitallero is a bit sour, the showers are badly designed, and the place is filling up fast with Spaniards. They're good people, but we have no common language, which increases my sense of isolation. After a shower and a dhobi wash, I try some garlic soup for lunch. Way too salty, and the bread is stale. This is a place that I'm going to be glad to leave behind. No WiFi either, so I will have to post this short blog sometime tomorrow. It's going to be a long day in Foncebadon.

 

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