• Iain Colville
september 2024

Colville on the Camino

Et 23-dags eventyr af Iain Læs mere
  • Start på rejsen
    7. september 2024

    Almost time …

    28. august 2024, England ⋅ ☁️ 23 °C

    In just 10 days’ time, I will be setting off on an adventure.

    I’ve described this to many as a long walk across northern Spain, where I am aiming* to cover about 500 km in 3 weeks, and that I’m embarking upon this particular challenge as part of celebrating my 50th birthday this year, all of which is true.

    But my journey is principally one of pilgrimage, described by some as “a journey, with God, in search of God”. I’ll try to explain something of this, as I discover for myself what it means to become a peregrino (pilgrim) on the Camino de Santiago.

    As I take my own steps along about two thirds of the Camino Frances (French Way), the most travelled of the many Caminos de Santiago, I will be following in the footsteps of many pilgrims and other travellers who, since the Middle Ages, have taken this path to Santiago de Compostela. In the last year, over 400,000 people have travelled at least the final 100 km having followed one or other of the different caminos across Spain and Portugal, each of which lead to Santiago.

    A very reasonable question is why am I (and all the other peregrinos) walking to this particular city in the northwest corner of Spain?

    Santiago is where (some of) the bones of St James (or Sant Iago in Spanish) are said to be buried. This St James was one of Jesus’ 12 original disciples, who was called alongside his brother John to leave their Dad’s business as fishermen to work instead with Jesus. You can read about him in Mark 1v19-20 and elsewhere in the New Testament.

    After being lost for centuries, the legend is that St James’s bones were re-discovered in the 9th century in a field (Latin: campus) under a bright shining star (Latin: stella), in the place now known as Santiago de Compostela, to which pilgrims have travelled across Europe since about the 12th century.

    And you are most welcome to join me on the Way of St James. I’m planning to post regularly on this platform, which will also show my progress across Spain on the map which appears towards the top of the page.

    [Fn * : In the interests of full disclosure, the actual distance may end up being less than 500km and may not always involve walking.]
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  • Getting very real

    4. september 2024, England ⋅ ☁️ 17 °C

    As I make my final preparations for my adventure on the Camino de Santiago, I’ve been reflecting upon my readiness (or otherwise). With just three days to go, this is starting to feel very real now!

    I have to admit that I’m feeling both quite excited and, at the same time, rather daunted at the scale of the journey ahead. I’ve not done as much physical training as I should have done. But my bag is (almost) packed, my shoes are worn in and I guess I’m as ready as I will be for this adventure.

    Perhaps this is the first lesson of the Camino: Just as all pilgrimages are said to begin as you walk out through your own front door, a pilgrim can only start on their journey just as they are.

    I am conscious too that my journey will be whatever it turns out to be. That’s not some sense of fatalism but rather a mix of realism and expectation.

    I do know where I’m starting, where the first few steps will take me as I begin to put one foot in front of the other. So far, I’ve booked only my first and last night’s accommodation. I’ve studied the route in my guidebook and I know the general direction in which I plan to walk as I head west towards Santiago. I also know this is going to be very challenging on lots of levels.

    But I don’t know very much more than that. I don’t know exactly what twists and turns my path will take. I have no idea who I will meet or walk alongside on the way. I don’t really know how far I will actually manage to walk each day over the next 3 weeks. I don’t know whether I’ll be able to find a bed in an albergue (hostel) in the village or town where I decide to stop walking for each day. My uncertainty and lack of control over what lies ahead is real but all part of the adventure!

    And yet what is much more important to me is that I see this as an adventure for, and with, Jesus. As He and I travel together along the road that lies ahead, my prayer is that I will learn more about Him, every step of the way.

    I’m therefore content to trust God for all of these unknowns, as well as with all that is known. This doesn’t mean that my fears have instantly vanished but I set out on the Camino with a heart full of hope and faith, rather than trepidation.

    As I count down these last few days, I’m very grateful for the encouragement, prayers and good wishes offered by many friends, family members and colleagues, especially over recent weeks and days. I’ve also been amazed at quite how many have expressed their interest in following my journey. Thank you for all of your support and kind words.
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  • The journey begins here

    6. september 2024, England ⋅ ☁️ 22 °C

    Home. That place where the heart is said to be. But also the essential starting point, from which any journey of pilgrimage must begin.

    My home for more than half my life has been here in Coventry, the wonderful city of peace and reconciliation. Coventry’s rich and fascinating story includes prominence as a city built on the textile trade in the Middle Ages, brief periods as the capital of England and the seat of parliament in the 15th century, before the skills of nimble-fingered ribbon workers in the 18th century were passed first to the watch and clock makers, and then successively to the makers of sewing machines, bicycles and ultimately motor cars and aeroplanes.

    Much maligned, and often misunderstood, Coventry is however best known for being a place to which you could be sent involuntarily in the 17th century, or for being a place where a brutalist concrete-loving regime made good use of a city centre largely flattened by the efforts of the Luftwaffe in 1940 and 1941. Or perhaps you might know about one or other of our 3 cathedrals?

    More than all that, Coventry has been my home for nearly 3 decades and it’s somewhere I’ve come to love. It’s where I’ve put down roots and have brought up my family. A place where I’ve found welcome, hope, and purpose, as well as many dear friends over the years.

    And tomorrow morning, my journey towards Santiago begins right here.

    Let’s go! Ultreia!
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  • Heathrow

    7. september 2024, England ⋅ ☁️ 15 °C

    And I’m off … or at least I’m on the way to Spain.

    Some very kind friends have dropped me off at Heathrow Terminal 5, from where I’ll be flying to Madrid in a few hours’ time.

  • Llegada a España

    7. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ☀️ 24 °C

    ¡Hola desde España!

    So far so good. Flight was delayed by about 30 mins, but very smooth, with lovely views when the clouds parted, of London, the north and south Breton coasts, the Spanish coast near Santander (I think), and various mountains as we descended towards Adolfo Suárez Madrid–Barajas.

    In case you were wondering, Adolfo Suárez was Spain’s first prime minister after the end of Franco’s regime, who oversaw Spain’s transition to democracy in the late 1970s.

    Terminal 4 (and 4S too) was designed by none other than Richard Rogers, who incidently also designed Heathrow T5. You decide which looks better!

    I eventually managed to escape from the airport labyrinth and will very shortly board the bus to Burgos.
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  • Burgos

    7. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ⛅ 19 °C

    I’ve finally arrived in Burgos, a major city in northern Spain, about 220km north of Madrid. Most importantly for me, it’s on the route of the Camino de Santiago.

    I’m staying here tonight in a privately run albergue (which, yes, I booked in advance) near the beautiful cathedral.

    It’s an absolutely lovely evening here, with lots of people about, many much more smartly dressed than me, and there’s a real buzz in the air.

    But that’s nothing to the sense of joy and anticipation I felt, as I walked the short distance from the bus station to my albergue. To finally be here, about to start on my journey, feels quite moving. I’ve been thinking about this since the end of last year and the plan has slowly come together. I’m here now, and then in the morning, the walking starts properly!

    More prosaically, I’m not entirely sure what I’ve just ordered for dinner: Huevos Stallone. But I’m more confident that I know what “una cerveza grande” means!
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  • Burgos at night

    7. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ⛅ 14 °C

    The city is even more pretty at night than it was in the early evening.

    I’ve not long got back from a amazing immersive nighttime visit to the cathedral for a sound and light show (no photos allowed but Google “Burgos catedral Stella”) created for the 800th anniversary of the cathedral in 2022. With translation into English, the show told the story of the foundation and building of what was the first gothic building in this area, as well as the backstory of several chapels, all pointing to the major theme that this building was created to share God’s light come into the world.

    The building really is stunning. There are some good pictures here: https://londontraveller.org/2022/10/02/inside-b….

    Whilst we were waiting for the show to begin, there was just enough light for a couple of internal snaps in the otherwise dark cathedral.

    Saw El Cid’s tomb in the cathedral too, although this didn’t get a mention or illumination.

    Back now to my albergue room, which is rather too warm and filled with 9 snoring men. At least no one will notice if there’s one more to add to the cacophony…
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  • Burgos to Tardajos

    8. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ⛅ 13 °C

    I may have underestimated my need for earplugs last night. 10 snoring fellas make quite a bit of noise. My top bunk was comfortable, but it was incredibly warm in the albergue. However I did get a reasonable night’s sleep.

    I made a start on the road just before dawn. Burgos was a little chilly and drizzly this morning. Not many people about at 7.30 on a Sunday, except for an intermittent line of pilgrims heading west and making the route very clear and straightforward to follow.

    The arch with obelisks on each side (see photo) is the Solar el Cid, marking the location of El Cid’s home. El Cid, or Count Rodrigo Días de Vivar, was a warlord in the 11th century, famous for doing battle with the Moors, who honoured him with the title “as-Sayyid” (the Master or Lord) which became El Cid in Spanish.

    We quickly left the city into countryside, albeit the path threaded its way under and over various major roads and a railway line just outside Burgos.

    As the rain fizzled out, I enjoyed a nice chat with a Canadian couple from Halifax for a few km.

    After about 2 1/2 hours and 11km, I made it to Tardajos and breakfast. I might have stopped sooner but this was the first place with open bars!
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  • Tardajos to Hornillos del Camino

    8. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ⛅ 22 °C

    Today’s total: 22.8km in just under 6 hours.

    So I’ve survived my first day of walking. Just arrived at Hornillos, where a bed was waiting for me with a friendly welcome in the Municipal Albergue.

    Second half harder than the first. Quite a bit of up and down, as the path took us properly into the Meseta. The Meseta is the plains or plateau across a lot of central Spain. Endless wheat fields and sunflower fields, and some where they could be growing rocks. The wheat has been harvested already, with high stacks of straw bales dotted about.

    Leaving Tardajos mid-morning, the bells of the local church were ringing out strongly, and the sound carried far across the fields.

    I found a tiny hermitage chapel just on the way out of the next village, Rabé de las Calzadas, where a tiny nun leapt up from her phone to greet me with gusto. She asked if I was a peregrino (I said yes) and she presented me with a small necklace of Mary, the mother of Jesus, in whose name the chapel is dedicated. She then laid her hands on my head (I had to bend down so she could reach) and she prayed a prayer of blessing, mostly in Spanish and a few words of English. A special moment.

    About halfway through the second half of the journey, I reached the Fuente de Praotorre, a shady oasis in a small copse, with a water pump, the sort you have to prime with water left from the last people to use the pump and then pump like crazy until the gurgling turns into flowing water. You have to first refill the priming bottle and then you can take what you need.

    After the Fuente, I spent most of the remaining 6 km into Hornillos chatting with a lady from Ohio, and a Danish couple, each of whom started at St Jean at the foot of the Pyrenees.

    Have met a range of nationalities today. Several Australians, quite a few Canadians and Americans. A few Spanish and some French too. And others with whom we only exchanged greetings: Buen Camino!

    After checking into the albergue, I found some food and have enjoyed a couple of cold beers in the shade! And I’ve just been chatting some more with the Danish couple I met earlier.
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  • Hornillos 2

    8. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ 🌙 16 °C

    After getting settled at the albergue, I spent nearly all afternoon sat in more or less the same chair in a square outside the bar where I had lunch, meeting a dozen or so new friends, including two genuine Kentucky colonels, who introduced me to a number of their Camino friends variously from California, Colorado, Toronto, the west of Canada, Ottawa and South Africa, plus a young Spanish couple who were cycling. The chap from California (in his late 30s) is on his third Camino (and the second in 2 years!). Apart from one of the Spanish cyclists, the others all started in St Jean. It was great to hear about their journeys so far and to share our reasons for being on the Camino.

    Whilst wandering up and down the single road running through this small village, I bumped into the Canadian couple I met this morning. I also found 2 Australian ladies to whom I’d spoken only briefly at a couple of points during the day, and we ended eating dinner together, and chatting properly.

    I’ve also just chatted with the hospitalera (host, for want of a better word) from my albergue, who knew this had been my first day on the Camino when she stamped my credencial earlier.

    After an increasingly sunny afternoon and a v pleasant evening, it’s got quite chilly now under a cloudless sky. The weather apps seem to be forecasting a low of only 6° for the early morning.

    My plan is to reach Castrojeriz tomorrow, about 19km from here and which is where almost everyone I’ve met today is heading.
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  • Hornillos to Hontanas

    9. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ☀️ 16 °C

    Slept well last night. Bottom bunk comfortable and my 9 roommates snored much less than those in Burgos - perhaps because not all were men! Someone’s alarm woke the room at 5am but I rolled over and went back to sleep for another couple of hours.

    Left the albergue a bit later than my aim but was on the road by just before 8. Really quite cold initially, but the sun soon rose into the cloudless sky above the endless fields.

    The path seemed a little quieter this morning probably because I was a bit later, and I’ve mostly walked alone so far today.

    Got to Hontanas about half an hour ago, after 12.6 km. Time for breakfast in a shady garden, a brief hello to my Australian friends who were about to set off as I arrived.

    Feet a little tender this morning, with a blister or two forming, and needing treatment. Legs not too achy.
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  • Hontanas to Convento de San Antón

    9. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ☀️ 24 °C

    Slight change in plan. Decided I couldn’t do another 3 or so km to Castrojeriz, and so thought I’d check out the donativo albergue here in the 14th century ruins of San Antón’s convent. I knew there were only 12 beds here but it turns out there was one with my name on it, and I was greeted with a big hug from Antonino the hospitalero!

    As well as being a donativo, which means you give what you wish to pay, the offering here is a little 14th century, in that there is running water but no electricity and no hot water.

    But there is a meal for all the guests, which smells great so far.

    So far there’s me and 4 Aussies, a Czech chap and a lady who might be Spanish or French (I’ve heard her speaking both languages although we’ve yet to have a proper conversation)

    Today’s distance is supposed to be 16.1km from Hornillos to here but my watch says it was just over 21km, and I was walking for about 6 hours.

    Pictures will have to follow, there’s not enough reception here to upload more than text!
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  • Convento de San Anton 2

    9. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ 🌙 16 °C

    Here are the pictures from yesterday afternoon and evening at the Convento de San Antón.

    By the end of the day we were 1 Brit (me), a Belgian lady (not French or Spanish), 2 Australian sisters and the husband of one, another Australian lady, a Czech man and a couple from California (the lady is half Mexican). And of course our 2 Spanish hospitaleros.

    The Belgian lady (and her dog) were walking in opposite direction to the others. She’s already been to Santiago, Muxia and Finsterre, and was now walking back to France and then home.

    We shared a delicious meal of garlic soup and then a vegetable stew and rice, washed down with some red wine. After eating, we were each encouraged to tell our stories of why we were on the Camino, many of which were very moving.

    We then asked the quieter of our hosts, who spoke only Spanish and who I’d heard speak about 6 words at most all afternoon, to tell us his story. With the help of translation from the Californian couple, he spoke for about 25 minutes! He told us about his former life as a professional mountaineer and the lessons he’s learned both in the mountains and on the Camino, and assimilating what he’d learnt once back home again afterwards. Very profound and challenging.

    Once night fell, the starry sky was beautiful, with no lights nearby.

    In the morning, breakfast was by candlelight from about 7.30.
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  • San Antón to Itero de la Vega

    10. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ 🌙 17 °C

    I set off this morning a little before 8, and headed up the road towards Castrojeriz. This is a long thin village, the beginning of which was about 3km beyond the convent and the far end of which was at least another 2.5km! I was pleased and relieved to have chosen to stop short of Castrojeriz.

    My companion for the first part of the morning was an audiobook, “How to hear God” by Pete Greig, which is a study into the lessons we can learn from the biblical story of the Road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35).

    After climbing a little to go through the centre of the village, the Camino descended afterwards to cross a river valley, in part on a Roman causeway. Then a large hill loomed ahead, and I could see a winding track ascending the hillside.

    My initial hope was that the Camino would head one way or the other around the base of the hill. But as I drew closer, I began to be able to see a few dots, often in 2s and 3s, on the path that went up the hill. My heart sank briefly as I recognised that those dots moving slowing upwards were in fact pilgrims, and that the Camino was indeed the winding path I’d seen.

    It was a long slow climb of about 950m (vertically), punctuated with frequent stops to check the increasingly wonderful view, but it was all made easier with at least half my focus on the audiobook.

    I paused to catch my breath once more from the top of the Alto de Mostelares, as I took in the views across to Castrojeriz and across to the high plains on the far side of the broad valley (from which I’d descended the day before into Hontanas).

    After less than a kilometre on the level, the path descended sharply back down the other side of the hill. The Camino was visible stretching out several km ahead. A road sign said the descent gradient was 18%.

    As I descended, I started chatting to a grandmother from California, and we continued talking for some 3.5 km.

    I then took another pause in a shady spot to admire the view back along the path to the Alto de Mostelares, as my companion continued on her way.

    The Camino joined a small road for a km or so before branching off across the fields towards the Puente Fitero, an important 11-arched bridge first built in the 11th century and subsequently remodelled. The bridge and the river it crosses marks the boundary between the provinces of Burgos and Palencia (and the historic boundary between the county of Castile and the Tierro de Campos). The “itero” within the name of the bridge (and many other nearby villages, such as Itero de la Vega) refers to the hito or boundary stone or marker between the historic regions.

    Once across the bridge the Camino turned to run along the far bank of the river, leading toward the small village of Itero de la Vega. Having walked just over 18km and with the next village about 8km further, I decided to stop here.

    There’s no longer a municipal albergue here in Itero de la Vega. These, and parochial albergues, generally don’t take bookings and so are potentially a good starting point for someone like me who’s not booking ahead.

    I approached the first private albergue in the village and discovered a warm welcome (of course) and that they in fact had no bookings and I was only the third pilgrim to arrive this afternoon (this was at about 1.30pm). Even better they still had bocadillos (sandwiches, which here took the form of filled bagels) for lunch!

    After checking in and having lunch, and then freshening up, I returned to the bar for a beer and fell into a conversation with a man in his 80s from Northern Ireland. He and his wife walked the full Camino Frances some 14 years ago and were doing part of the Frances again. However due to injuries from playing Gaelic football (including representing Ireland internationally), he and his wife had walked the first 10 km with other friends, and then caught a taxi to Itero, from where his wife had walked back to meet up with their friends. Liam and I enjoyed a beer together, putting much of the world to rights for a couple of hours before the rest of his group arrived to join us for a further round.

    A bit later I spoke to 2 other Irish gents who both now lived in Sydney. We compared blister treatment notes, with a diversion to compare the relative ease of travel around Europe with the vastness of Australia!

    In the evening, those of us staying the night in the albergue shared a delicious pilgrim meal together, but with a difference. Our hosts turned out to be Ukrainians and so the first course was soup to a traditional Ukrainian recipe. As well as the 4 from Northern Ireland, and me, we had 1 German, 2 ladies from Colorado and an Australian.
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  • Itero de la Vega to Frómista

    11. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ☁️ 21 °C

    After a decent night’s sleep, left the albergue a little before 8, to walk through the quiet sleepy village of Itero de la Vega. Before I was halfway through the village I bumped into 2 Californian (and part Mexican) friends from the San Anton convent.

    After catching up, we agreed to start walking together, although my friends were keen to say that I should only walk with them if they weren’t too slow. As it turned out, their pace was just right for me and so we enjoyed each others’ company, sharing our stories and experiences on the Camino and elsewhere as we walked together until Frómista, which was lovely.

    Although still part of the Meseta, Palencia is watered by various canals and linked irrigation channels, and so is much greener than the earlier part of the Meseta.

    Our first stop, for breakfast, was at Boadilla del Camino, another small village some 9km from Itero.

    Once refreshed we set out for the relatively short stretch to Frómista. A couple of kilometres before the town, the path joined the towpath of the Canal de Castilla, a 18th & 19th century waterway intended to transport corn from this area (and further south) to Santander on the north coast. Not unlike the British canals, this ideal was overtaken by the advent of the railways. Just on the edge of town, we came upon the location of a staircase of 4 locks (although only the top gates remained in place).

    Frómista is a little bigger than most of the villages since Burgos with bus and rail connections, and more than a dozen albergues or hotels.

    I was initially thinking of continuing past Frómista to the next village but I learnt that one albergue there is currently closed and the other was already full. So I’ve called it a day here, even though today’s distance has only been just under 18 km, and I was here by about 12.30.

    After getting some lunch, I thought I’d try the municipal albergue here, and in fact I arrived before it opened. I left my rucksack in the virtual queue outside and went in search of a supermarket to buy some more lemons (for my water bladder) and some other fruit. By the time I returned, the albergue was opening and I was in the first half dozen to enter.

    Having showered and done my laundry (washing today’s walking clothes is a daily task), I’ve found a table at a bar in the shade to enjoy a cold Radler beer - effectively a lager shandy with cloudy lemonade, but it’s a popular drink here, and often available on tap.

    One of the main attractions here is San Martin’s church, said to be one of the best solely Romanesque churches in Spain. It’s currently closed but I’ll visit when it re-opens later this afternoon. I’ve also seen signs for a concert this evening in one of the other churches in town, which sounds worth investigating.
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  • Frómista 2

    11. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ☁️ 23 °C

    San Martín’s church didn’t disappoint.

    The building was first built in 1066, but by the later 19th century had fallen into disrepair. An extensive restoration project took 8 years to bring the building into its present state, including the re-carving of various capitals inside and corbels outside.Læs mere

  • Frómista 3

    11. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ☁️ 18 °C

    After visiting San Martin’s church, I walked across town to the San Pedro’s church (St Peter’s), which dates back to the 15th century.

    I had 2 reasons to go to San Pedro’s. First, it has a collection of religious art and artefacts gathered from churches in the locality. There beautiful sculptures and paintings (mostly altarpieces), communion silverware and priest’s robes.

    This collection also includes what is said to be the mass paten (plate) which featured in a miracle, which involved a priest trying to give communion/mass to a man who had been excommunicated for not repaying a loan, and who later became seriously ill. The bread became stuck to the paten and it is said that only after the man confessed his sin that the bread was released from the paten.

    Second, the ‘pilgrim concert’ I’d seen earlier was to take place in San Pedro’s church. The concert included a number of pieces played on the pipe organ, followed by the organist singing several Gregorian chants, and finishing by playing a piece by JS Bach on the flute. The church was pretty full and the music excellent and uplifting.

    Next I returned to the restaurant next to my albergue which was advertising a pilgrim menu de día. After finishing my delicious meal, I happened upon my Northern Irish friends from yesterday, who were eating at the same restaurant but in a different part of the building.
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  • Frómista to Carrión de los Condes

    12. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ☁️ 21 °C

    Lots to be thankful for today.

    Fairly good night’s sleep and I was away by 7.45am.

    Feet felt slightly less sore this morning, couple of early blisters have healed nicely. Legs a bit stiff until stretched and started walking.

    Managed to order and pay for a delicious breakfast entirely in Spanish, and even better, I actually received what I thought I’d ordered: “un Cafe Americano” (that Spanish is rather easy) and “un sandwich huevos con jambon”. The latter was a little like a croque monsieur with ham and a fried egg in the middle and cheese inside rather than on top. I even understood the price without translation or being shown the numbers. The village where I stopped for breakfast was a bit of a mouthful: Población de Campos, but thankfully it wasn’t necessary to tell the bar where they were located.

    As I left Población, there was a choice of routes. The Camino proper crossed the river and followed alongside the main road all the way to Carrión de los Condes. Most guidebooks and apps recommended one of a couple of alternative routes to avoid walking next to the main road for the majority of the way to Carrión.

    I took the shady and quiet path alongside the Rio Ucieza towards Villovieco and ultimately returning to join the main Camino at Villalcázar de Sirga. This added about a km to the distance but was lovely and quiet, and with a fair bit of shade. At times this route was close enough to the main Camino to see pilgrims progressing beside the main road, but with very little shade.

    Today was also a bit cooler, with the sun shining through broken clouds, and a refreshing steady breeze.

    I walked alone today, although most of the time I could see pilgrims ahead and behind. The silence and stillness, but for the crunch of the stony path, was lovely. After some quiet amongst my own thoughts, I listened to another chapter of Pete Greig, and then went back to enjoying my own company.

    Just before Villalcázar, my path passed the Hermitage of Our Lady of the River. Not sure who she was, but it was a chance to pause and pray in a quiet church. And to collect another “sello” (stamp) in my pilgrim passport.

    I decided it was lunchtime when I reached Villalcázar, and found a busy bar full of pilgrims. I just about managed the Spanish for a burger and chips, and even to request the missing knife and fork.

    After lunch it was time for a photo opportunity to with Pablo Payo, or at least a sculpture remembering his role in running an inn that welcomed pilgrims with open arms as part of the resurgence of the Camino de Santiago in the 1980s.

    Then I had no choice but to join the senda next to the main road for the last 6km into Carrión de los Condes. Fortunately, it remained not too hot under the intermittent sun.

    I arrived at Carrión at about 2.30pm, having completed about 22km today.

    I hoped to stay at the Albergue de Santa Maria, and was delighted at the warm welcome and that they had a bed for me. I’ll explain my keenness to stay here a little later.

    After a quick stroll around the village, I found a bar to grab another Radler beer. A few moments later, I was joined at my (otherwise empty) table by a friendly German pilgrim. We’ve just enjoyed a fun and interesting conversation via Google Translate, as my German is fairly limited and he had little English! He’s on his third Camino, and started this time at Lourdes, France and is taking 3 months - but has the privilege of being retired. His local newspaper is apparently going to do an article about his Camino once he gets home.
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  • Carrión de los Condes 2

    12. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ⛅ 14 °C

    My reasons for wanting to stay here at the Albergue de Santa Maria were several:

    The albergue is run by an Augustinian order of nuns, who usually conduct a session of singing for pilgrims every evening. The nuns are currently away on a prayer retreat and so we were instead looked after by a team of hospitaleros, including 2 young priests in training. We sung songs in Spanish, French and one in English (Amazing Grace). Interspersed between the songs, first the hospitaleros and then the gathered pilgrims introduced ourselves and shared our stories. This time the countries represented included the UK (3 of us), France, Germany, Sweden, Hungary, Canada, Spain, Austria, Australia, the US and Taiwan. Finally, we were each given a cardboard star made by the nuns to remind us of how the ancient pilgrims would find their way along the Camino by navigating by starlight (in the times before smartphone apps with GPS and the myriad of yellow arrow and signs everywhere). And then we were given a hug by the hospitaleros.

    It was also great to discover, at the start of the singing time, that my Californian (and part Mexican) friends were also staying here.

    After the singing, there was a short gap before it was time for Mass in the church of Santa Maria next door. There was just enough time to catch the last half hour of a Spanish guitar quartet‘s concert in the same church, which was brilliant.

    I was pleased to sit next to my Californian friends for the mass, not least because they are devout Catholics and both speak Spanish. Even armed with my bilingual Spanish/English mass book it was tricky to follow in places, but my friends provided me with the readings in English, and helped me find the correct page a few times. Although I didn’t know most of the words and everything happened without being announced or any words provided for the liturgy or hymns, it was a holy moment to worship alongside my sisters and brothers in Christ.

    I was reminded how similar some of the Catholic liturgy is to the Anglican liturgy which I remember from my childhood and teenage years in the Church of England (that is apart from being in rapid Spanish!) Not being Catholic, I couldn’t take mass but went forward to be blessed by the priest.

    At the end of the service, there was a further time of blessing for the pilgrims in the congregation. We were all called to the front of the church, and the priest welcomed us formally on behalf of the church (with someone reading a translation of the priest’s words). We were invited to say what countries we were from (a similar list to those in my albergue) and then the priest prayed for us collectively, before calling us to come forward for him to lay his hands on our heads, and pray for us, one by one.

    After mass, it was time for the communal meal back in our albergue next door. This was a different affair to previous communal meals I’ve experienced in the last few days. As we had each arrived and checked in, we were told that although the hospitaleros would cook the main course, we pilgrims each needed to contribute something for the meal. This resulted in a tremendous spread for the 50 or so of us staying here tonight.

    I ended up sitting across from one of the trainee priests and next to a lady from the Vendée, France who in fact came from a town I stayed in about 20 years ago. It was nice to have the chance to inflict my dodgy French on my fellow pilgrim!

    At the end of the meal, we all helped to clear the tables and to wash up under the watchful (and, at times, cheeky) supervision of the hospitaleros!

    And then it was time for bed.
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  • Carrión de los Condes to Ledigos

    13. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ☁️ 19 °C

    Today felt like a long slog but I’ve completed 25km and will have a shorter day tomorrow.

    The first 17km followed the route of the Roman road towards Astorga, and so was largely a long straight section. This is also the longest stage on the Camino Frances with no villages.

    Doing the 17km at night is apparently a thing (because you don’t really need to see any signs or arrows). It appeared that some of my roommates were up for that and so were packing their bags at not long after 1am, and again from 5am (the later being fairly usual for some early birds). I remained (mostly) asleep until about 6.30.

    I left the albergue by 7.30 and made it across the square outside, where I found a bar open for breakfast and so stopped for a coffee and a pan a chocolat. I have a reasonable level of experience eating this delicacy (or its French cousins) but this was the first time I’ve been provided with a steak knife!

    It was soon time to get back on the road and I followed the route out of a quiet and chilly Carrion, to join the Roman road. This starts alongside a minor road and then headed off across the fields as the road peeled away to the right.

    Fortunately an enterprising gentleman has set up a small bar/cafe in the middle of the otherwise long service-less path. I thought it would be rude not to patronise his endeavour, and so took a small second breakfast of a ham, cheese and egg sandwich (again, similar to a croque monsieur) with a coffee, and it came with a small but freshly squeezed orange juice.

    At points, you could see and hear traffic on the motorway a few miles to the north, but the view was otherwise the endless fields and sky I expected.

    For most of the 17km, there was a strong, cold wind blowing from behind us, which seemed to accompany a weather front which brought more complete cloud cover overhead. It was a good job it was a tail wind but it kept the temperature fairly cool and kicked up dust from the path.

    Eventually, the Camino descended into the first village, Calzadilla de la Cueza, when I had some lunch. It was a relief to be out of the wind.

    Once fortified with lunch, and having wrestled with the conundrum of whether to stop for the day in Calzadilla or carry on to Legidos, which the guidebook said was 6km away, I decided to continue.

    If I had realised that the next section was essentially a long uphill (albeit intermittently shady) on an increasingly pebble-y path, I might have left this until tomorrow. But the nature of a walk like the Camino is that I would still have had to tackle this at some point.

    At last, the path went downhill and Ledigos came into sight (and turned out to be much nearer than the subsequent village, which had been visible first).

    There are only private (and so bookable) albergues here, and I’d not booked ahead. However there were plenty of beds at the first albergue I tried.

    Before being shown to my room, I’d already met a Canadian friend from yesterday, and then the other occupants who were already in my bedroom were a French couple and a friend, who currently live near Lyon but started walking from Le Puy, France a few years ago. This year they started at Burgos and are heading to Ponferrada. Once again I inflicted my ropey French on them and they very politely said that they would never criticise because they didn’t speak any other languages!
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  • Ledigos 2

    13. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ 🌬 11 °C

    Once I’d got myself showered and done my washing, it was time to head to the bar for some fruit and a Tinto de Verano, or summer wine. When I first discovered this, I thought this sounded strange but it is half a glass of red wine, on ice and topped up with lemonade. Some bars have it pre-mixed in bottles, and elsewhere it’s mixed on the spot. On a hot day, it’s very refreshing.

    Not long after sitting down, my German friend from yesterday arrived, and we had a quick catch up without much help from Google Translate.

    As afternoon turned to evening, I went to fetch my fleece jacket and, on returning, was invited to join my French roommates at their table. It turns out the second lady is the other lady’s sister. We had a very enjoyable conversation (in French) covering our respective experiences of each other’s country, the Camino and even politics in both the UK and France.

    It was also lovely to discover my Californian friends were staying at the albergue too.

    The albergue put on a pilgrim menu for dinner, for which those of us who were partaking had to sit down together at 7pm. On my table were my Canadian friend, my new French friends, another French couple, my German friend and a Brazilian couple (who spoke French). Most of the conversation was in French aided by Google Translate at times! The food was a choice of soups (I had vegetable soup) followed by chicken, pork or fish, in each case served with salad, with ice cream to finish, all washed down with red wine and water.
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  • Ledigos to Sahagún

    14. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ☀️ 22 °C

    After a chilly night, and temperatures apparently down to about 2°C early this morning, I was thankful for the thick blanket provided by the albergue.

    This albergue offered a breakfast of coffee, fresh orange juice and toast, with butter and jam, which I was pleased to consume. Then it was time to brace the chilly air and set out for Sahagún, my initial destination for today, some 17km away.

    I petit-dejeuner’d with my French roommates, wished each other a “bon chemin”, and then they set off rather more rapidly than me.

    The first village, about 3km ahead, was Terradillos de los Templarios. The only sign of the Templars (an extinct order of warrior monks from the Middle Ages) for whom the village is named was a modern sculpture. On the way out of the village, around a small square, were a series of knitted flags for (probably) most if not every country of the world, hanging on what first appeared to be a series of washing lines.

    A further 4km down the road, we came to Moratinos, a very small village, where I stopped initially to collect a “sello” from a chap sitting outside an albergue & bar, and about whom I’d learnt before beginning my Camino. With a choice of about 15 or so different designs, he melted wax of several colours and then applied his seal. A sello is more usually an ink stamp, but this is my second wax sello.

    Pilgrims collect sellos in their “credencial” (pilgrim passport) at least at their accommodation every night, as well as at many other places. The result is a unique record of the journey, and the stops along the way. After 7 days, I haven’t got very many yet - see the picture of my credencial.

    Having stopped for the sello, I decided it was also time for a coffee (but I resisted a second breakfast today). After a few minutes, my Canadian friend also came into the bar.

    It was then time to get cracking and I carried on along the Camino, leaving Moratinos behind, and was soon amongst sweeping views across the fields under a cloudless sky. Today’s scenery added some gently rolling hills, and reddish-brown ploughed earth to the usual palette.

    The path wound its way to the next tiny village, San Nicolás del Real Camino, and then onwards up a gentle rise before Sahagún appeared about 5 or 6km ahead.

    For much of the morning, the Autovía “Camino de Santiago” (a motorway between at least Burgos and León) ran parallel to the path, but at least 500m away, with a smaller, local road in between.

    I passed a stone sign marking the end of the province of Palencia (which I’ve walked right across in 3 or so days) and the start of the province of León, all still inside the Autonomous Community of Castilla y León.

    Rather than approaching Sahagún directly, shortly before the town, the Camino took a sudden turn to the right to pass beside the picturesque little chapel of the Ermita de la Virgen del Puente. The church wasn’t open but there was a rest area overlooking the church, where I rested for half an hour or so. Next to the rest area was a monument marking the halfway point to Santiago de Compostela from Roncevalles in the Pyrenees.

    A couple of km later, I reached the edge of Sahagún and passed over the railway lines next to the town’s bullring, where preparations appeared to be underway for an event later today.

    I headed into town, aiming first to restock my supply of Compeed plasters at a farmacia and then find some lunch. More or less opposite the farmacia, I spotted an inviting looking cafe and patisserie. Once again, una cerveza Radler came in a frozen glass, with some of the beer a slightly frozen but very refreshing slush!

    Fortified with a huge hamburguesa with bacon, egg, cheese and lettuce bursting out on all sides, and a couple of Radlers, it was time to explore the town a little, whilst I have a few hours to kill before something which I will explain later…
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  • Sahagún to León

    14. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ☀️ 22 °C

    This evening, I returned to the estación de tren in Sahagún to catch the 1743 to León.

    The train took a mere 45 minutes to cover about 60km of walking, or about 3 days’ worth!

    I met an American and a Québécoise at the station and we chatted on the train. Like me they were repositioning to move a little ahead.

    León seems very big compared to some of the tiny villages I’ve been walking through.

    I booked a bed in a private albergue because I knew I’d be relatively late arriving. This is a little more upmarket than most of the albergues so far. I’m in a room with 4 cabin style bunks, complete with privacy curtains for each bed. Towels are even provided!

    It’s felt a little odd departing from the usual regime of being able to cast off my walking shoes and jump in the shower early afternoon, but it feels good now to have done so even a bit late in the day.
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  • Leon at night

    14. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ 🌙 16 °C

    Not unlike Burgos, León comes to life at night. The streets throng with people of all ages dressed in their finery, including a wedding party.

    There are lots of trendy bars and restaurants a stone’s throw from the cathedral, with all sorts of foody delights. Having eaten a decent lunch, I opted for a bar specialising in a variety of tortilla (more like Spanish omelettes with potatoes) and of course beer (and every conceivable drink). The glass of beer was probably only a third of a litre but beer and a small slice of warm tortilla was less than €2.50.

    In reading up about the city’s history, it turns out that this place has nothing to do with lions, despite what the name might suggest. León is in fact derived from the city’s Roman name “Castra Legionis”, because it was a Roman garrison town founded initially in the first century BC by the Legio IV Victrix, who were involved in the final conquest of Hispania by the Romans. About a hundred years later the Legio VII Gemina settled a permanent base camp here on AD 74, from which the city developed. The legion remained based here until the late 4th century.
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  • León to Oncina de la Valoncina

    15. september 2024, Spanien ⋅ ☀️ 26 °C

    Having only arrived in León late in the day (yesterday), I initially pondered the possibility of taking a rest day today in order to take a proper look at the city. But I then decided I’d get back on my feet and keep following the Camino, albeit to have a relatively short day.

    I was already planning to follow the alternative route which diverges to the south of the traditional Camino Frances after La Virgen del Camino, just outside León.

    It took a while to emerge from the city and its suburbs, but the countryside immediately looks very different from the Meseta.

    Looking at the guidebook and apps, I found what sounded like a delightful albergue, the Albergue el Pajar, in Oncina, only 13km outside León, and so thought I’d aim for there. There’s only space for 9 at this albergue, and the last bed was mine (the others being pre-booked).

    The albergue is run by a very welcoming family who live in the same building, which is beautiful and relaxing, as you’ll see from the photos. It’s very much a family enterprise: The father was here to welcome me and show me to the room, and has been fixing drinks. The daughter checked me in and we’ve just been introduced to the son. We’re promised the mother’s wonderful cooking for dinner tonight, and the rest of the family say she’s in charge! There’s also at least one cat and a small dog to complete the family.

    So far, in the albergue, there’s also a German lady who speaks almost fluent English, Spanish and French, and is currently learning Italian. An Italian man and a French lady have also just arrived. A man from Manchester was here when I arrived but had stopped only to get a drink, and then left.
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