Onward and Upward

Today’s walk was not as bad as it looks in the graphics. The hill was relentless, but the weather started out fairly cool, the path was relatively rock-free, and there were places to eat every two miles. Key factor, that.

Nothing can compare to that first-day climb in the Pyrenees to Borda. We all agree we had no idea what we were in for, no matter what we thought we knew. I think the hike from Rabanal to Foncebedón, just short of the Iron Cross, was much harder than today. The actual distance was about the same; today’s grade was probably worse, but those rocks made that climb really tough.

Today’s first two miles, in fact, were along the road with very little incline. Mim texted when they left, and their hostel was about five minutes behind mine, so I knew they’d catch up. I don’t know why, but my backpack had a squeak this morning. Step… squeak. Step… squeak. Two miles. Don’t know why it started; don’t know why it stopped, but I was very grateful when it did.

I had stopped to wait for Kathy and Mim at a cute cafe in Las Herreras, which is the town where you can rent a horse to ride up to the top. By the time we were ready to go Tom and Yvonne got there, which means they started really early this morning. Once out of town we left the road for a wooded area. Then we started going up. And up. Every curve I’d come to I’d be convinced it would flatten out just around that bend. It did not. Because any rocks are mostly solidly embedded you don’t have to worry so much about slipping — but you do have to worry about horse poop.

In the second town we saw a cute donkey just hanging out. The towns along this stretch are tiny but do a great job catering to the pilgrims.

In town three we saw the horses coming back from dropping off their riders. Three were strung together, and the fourth was just on his own. The guy tied the three up to the fence and went inside for a drink, and the fourth horse just kept going. I don’t think he went far, but I couldn’t see around the corner and wasn’t going to get up. Yvonne saw them later going down the hill and said that horse was still escorting himself, but he was in the vicinity of the others.

We made the final push to O’Cebreiro, officially crossing into Galicia. O’Cebreiro is a small collection of stone buildings, some with thatched roofs. There’s a lot of Celtic influence here. Since I didn’t have a reservation, I immediately went looking for an albergue. Most didn’t open until two or three, but one place opened at 12:30, which was only about five minutes away, so I stood in line. Turns out it has only private rooms, and I got the last one. I dropped my bags and went to meet the crew for a beer; they are all staying right next door, but they couldn’t check in until 3:00.

Once they went to their rooms I took a shower and contemplated the need to do laundry. We’re in an apartment tomorrow night, so once I confirmed there’s a washing machine, that greatly minimized the hand washing I did to get through tomorrow. I hand wash as little as possible; most albergues have coin washers, which I’m happy to spend money on, and I’m leaning heavily into the “merino doesn’t smell” marketing. (Could explain the swarm of flies.)

It was 70 degrees and breezy, and the view from up here is incredible. I went back out to the patio and ran into some women I’d been hiking and chatting with on and off today. We had proper sangria and hung out until dinner. Supposedly O’Cebriero is known for steak, so that was the plan.

Erica, Christina, and I went to the restaurant; I was just going to sit with them until everyone else showed up, then switch tables. However, when the waitress brought their menus she said there is no more steak. I texted everyone, and we agreed to meet elsewhere. The second restaurant had a much nicer atmosphere than the first — and steak — so it all worked out.

Today was less than eight miles. Tomorrow is 13, but research says that while it is steep, it’s not technical. If the rocks are what we had today then I’ll be very happy.Read more