Colville on the Camino

September 2024
A 23-day adventure by Iain Read more

List of countries

  • Spain
  • England
Categories
Hiking, Solo travel, Spirituality
  • 4.1kkilometers traveled
Means of transport
  • Flight2,624kilometers
  • Train577kilometers
  • Walking395kilometers
  • Bus275kilometers
  • Car140kilometers
  • Hiking-kilometers
  • Bicycle-kilometers
  • Motorbike-kilometers
  • Tuk Tuk-kilometers
  • Camper-kilometers
  • Caravan-kilometers
  • 4x4-kilometers
  • Swimming-kilometers
  • Paddling/Rowing-kilometers
  • Motorboat-kilometers
  • Sailing-kilometers
  • Houseboat-kilometers
  • Ferry-kilometers
  • Cruise ship-kilometers
  • Horse-kilometers
  • Skiing-kilometers
  • Hitchhiking-kilometers
  • Cable car-kilometers
  • Helicopter-kilometers
  • Barefoot-kilometers
  • 58footprints
  • 23days
  • 607photos
  • 321likes
  • Hornillos to Hontanas

    September 9, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 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

    September 9, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 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 and 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

    September 9, 2024 in Spain ⋅ 🌙 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

    September 10, 2024 in Spain ⋅ 🌙 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

    September 11, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 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

    September 11, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 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.Read more

  • Frómista 3

    September 11, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 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 is 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

    September 12, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 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 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

    September 12, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 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

    September 13, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 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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