Day 27 (Monday 3 June) 176 kilometres to Santiago. I spent part of yesterday afternoon talking with Hans from Sydney. He retired from running his own camera shop about 2 years ago, driven out of business by the Internet. People would come in and chat him up about various camera options and then come back with an Internet price that was cheaper than he paid from his supplier. He said that in the end he had to sell a $450K photo processor for $6K, to serve as spare parts for another camera shop owner. Hans is fond of sounding out what he says is the Australian bush man's call whenever he sees someone passing by that he knows is from Oz: "CooEE". He tells me that if you want to know where your mate is in the bush, that's the way it's done down under.
After a good pilgrim's menu dinner, I'm in bed by 09:00. There are only 3 people in my dorm room (normally sleeps 5), but, improbably, one of them is a snorer. Fortunately, his efforts flag periodically, so after reading my e-book for a while in the middle of the night I'm able to drift back to sleep when the racket takes a break. I'm up just before 06:00, under the mistaken impression that breakfast is available from 06:30. When nothing is stirring at that hour, my mind plays back the conversation that I had with one of the servers yesterday afternoon. Now it finally gets through to me that she said "siete" (seven) not "seis" (six). I don't want to wait that long, so I'm on the road at 07:05. It's gently uphill alongside a secondary highway to La Portela de Valcarce, where I stop for breakfast (OJ, coffee, and peach flan). As good as this is, I am beginning to long for hot oatmeal (Mom's people were highlanders from Strathpepper). It's a beautiful sunny day again - payback for the first week or ten days of mostly rain. Cool in the morning, especially on the hands, and then warming into the mid-20's.
After reaching Herrerias, the track gets much steeper, as advertised, and my pace slows as I tread my way uphill towards O'Cebreiro, a climb of about 700 metres. The views are generally great, but not very photogenic, at least with my small camera. Part way up the slope I encounter a man leading 3 horses downhill; each one is saddled. Perhaps he is in the business of leading tired people to the top on horseback. When I reach O'Cebreiro at 12:10, I have crossed out of the province of Castilla y Leon and into Galicia. The little stone village (population 50) is crowded with bus loads of tourists who have come for the view. About 2 days back, after descending steep slopes into Ponferrada, I found that I often had to put a foot behind me to steady myself after I reached level terrain. I was so used to leaning back into the hill that I had a new form of sea legs when the downslope wasn't there anymore. Now I experience a similar, but opposite, effect after climbing for 2 hours.
The albergues in Galicia are often purpose-built by the provincial government and this one is no exception. It sleeps 104. I don't know how many beds there are in my dorm, but it could be half that number. There will almost certainly be some snoring tonight. After the usual chores, I have some empenada and wine at a local bar and then return to the albergue to start on this blog. Looking for a comfortable place to do that, I head for the lunch room and there, improbably, is the French gentleman (Serge from Brittany) who forgot his walking sticks in Mazerife about a week ago. The conversation, in French, goes something like this: "It's a pleasure to see you again. You also. Did you lose your walking sticks? Yes, I forgot them in Mazerife. Are you sure? Yes - absolutely; I realized what I had done after about 2 kilometres, but didn't want to go back. Wait here a minute." Then, of course, there is a huge smile when his sticks are finally returned to him. Another golden moment on the Camino.
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