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  • Day 7

    A Gudiña - Laza

    April 16 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 63 °F

    This stage, described in a guide (A Gudiño to Laza) is 34 kilometers, and we weren't going to tackle that kind of mileage (kilometerage?). On gronze.
    com, a regularly updated online site for all the caminos, it said that halfway between these two towns is the pueblo, Campobecerros, which used to have an albergue, but now there's just a guesthouse there behind a bar with about 6-8 beds. It was a hilly 20k (12 miles) from Gudiña to Campobecerros which sounded doable, though the reviews of the place were so horrifyingly bad, it was almost comical. Actually it made me want to stay there more, just to experience it. Most of the reviews described a mean hostess and dingy accomodations, but we just wanted somwhere to sleep, so I called to reserve 2 beds. The lady answered the phone with racous bar noise in the background. I asked if she had room for us (she made me ask it twice), she said yes and as I started to ask the price she abruptly hung up on me.

    So off to walk!
    The path ascended on a quiet country road and then a dirt track, sometimes steeply, and didn't let up. We were on top of the hills, over 1000 meters elevation; only low scrub brush, purple heather and distant views in all directions. Quite beautiful and again no pilgrims in site.

    At one of the highest points, a large lake came into view below. There was a stone bench, a pilgrim fountain and something that was such a great idea I don't know why there aren't more of these. A swing! After swinging, we sat on the bench and had some cheese and bread. To our surprise, a sportscar showed up on the track and stopped in front of us. A.man with a neat beard, trendy clothes and a big camera with lots of lenses jumped out.
    He asked if he could photograph us, explaining he was working on a PR campaign for the region, so we said sure. Then he asked for an action shot, walking up the road. We both started to get up and he said that's ok, I just want one and of course looked at Olivia (she's better "PR" than this abuelita), who put on her pack and walked up the road for him a couple times. Then he sped off, stopping once ahead and taking pics of us from a distance.

    It was unseasonably warm for Galicia, but with a cool breeze, we had the mountains to ourselves, and just a gorgeous day. As we began to tire, we kept scanning ahead for the descent to Campobecerros. We saw a sloping ridge ahead that looked promising, and then some possible switchbacks in the distance.
    But we rounded a corner and found a steep slate scree slope, with Campobecerros straight down below us. I dont know anyone would make it down that in the rain!

    We scrabbled and slipped down the descent to Campobecerros and entered the dark, lively bar. A woman chatted and argued with men at the counter and ignored us. Finally I approached and told her we called about 2 beds. She looked resentful at our interruption and motioned for us to follow her, opened a room with two beds and walked away.

    Dingy was an apt description, with frayed bedspreads that didn't look to have been washed in a very long time on swayback twin beds. And the telltale musty aroma of bedbugs. We peeled up the sheets to find lines of accumulated blood and scat along the top rim of the mattresses that suggested a long term infestation. And a dead bug on top of the sheet to tell us the problem never did get addressed.

    Grabbed our packs, went back into the bar, ordered a couple of beers and felt itchy all over just from what we'd seen. I asked the hostess if she'd call us a taxi to Laza. She smiled for the first time and waved gaily as we walked out the door.
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