El Herrumblar to Posada del Campillo

This is now payback time for having taken a day to see Alcala del Jucar. Since I told Clare I’d be in Monteagudo to meet her on Sunday, I’ve got to do some pretty long days to get there. Luckily they are fairly flat, with no stage having more than 300 m of ascent.

Last night the clouds got really dark and some of the townspeople were hoping for a little bit of rain. Even though the wheat crop has totally failed, if the rain doesn’t come, the almonds, the grapes, and the olives will all die. There has been no rain since last November. It’s the first thing people talk about and the thing that’s on everyone’s mind. The small towns out here all depend on agriculture. The Moroccan guy who helped me get my phone on wifi talked about the lack of rain. The cafe/bar attached to the hostal is seeing the effects. He usually has a bustling breakfast business starting at 6:30. If there’s no one working in the fields, they won’t be coming in for breakfast.

Unfortunately, I didn’t think I should wait until 630 to contribute to his morning breakfast trade. I wanted to start out and give myself plenty of time to deal with my back. So at about six, I left, having done multiple stretching exercises I found compliments of Ms. Google. As I left, I heard the alarm. The owner had told me yesterday that he would dismantle the alarm so that I could leave without tripping it. But I guess he forgot. I don’t think the three other pilgrims sleeping up there we’re very happy.

After going through Villaharta, the terrain became much more interesting. Still endless vineyards, but the rolling hills make a difference.

Since I had been walking through about 20 km of nothing but vineyards, I began to notice features that I had missed before. When the vines are very young, they are enclosed in a green plastic tube, presumably to keep out animals, or maybe to enhance water retention. As they grow, they burst out of those plastic tubes. And then what? Based on what I see, the tubes are left to disintegrate in the soil that nourishes the vines. This reminded me of a recent article I read that estimated that we all consume a credit card’s worth of plastics every day. Are these green tubes just another way we are poisoning ourselves?

Leaving those profound thoughts aside, I started to focus on my back. During the last 15 km, I stopped two or three times to takeoff my pack, stretch my back and hope that the little pulling would not turn into pain. And I was lucky! Though I arrived in Campillo later than I thought I would, given my early departure, I was very happy that it was a much less painful arrival than yesterday!

I was happy that some other pilgrims had gone ahead to see if the restaurant would wait to give food to us stragglers. I had a wonderful meal of salad, sea bass, and lemon mousse. And took a walk up to the convent, which, unfortunately, was closed. I had a nice chat with a Dominican caregiver who is connected to the man she’s caring for, but really hoping to get out of this small town.

It was a great walk, 37 km, with some very wonderful scenery.Read more