• Lexie Magill

Camino de Santiago

A 49-day adventure by Lexie Read more
  • Resting in Burgos

    April 8, 2024 in Spain ⋅ 🌬 10 °C

    Commiserating about the body I will of course condone, I'd have very little news throughout the past few years if not for updating my friends on the various ills that have befallen my extremely frail bod. Whining about the Spanish or the cost or whatever else however, I have absolutely no time for. It irks me in the extreme and I just want to smack the perpetrators with my sandal and say go home then.

    You don't air such grievances in public it's boring and unbecoming. You keep a file in your phone's notes app where you expunge anything that's annoyed or wronged you so you can move on with your day, and later perhaps you come back to it and chuckle at how silly it all was. I have four entries in my whinge ledger and they all seem funny now and nobody at all has been burdened by them in the slightest. That's, I think you'll find, not psychotic at all and actually very wise.

    Also wise, I think, to have had a rest day today given it took me until about 11am to be able to take steps without sound effects thanks to the old back (see sentence one). I mushed about happily. All my clothes got a wash, while I sat commando in my dress. I had a nice lunch at a place that was absolutely packed yesterday - I always seem to be in cities on wet weekends, rather than the quieter and cheaper weekdays, so staying for a Monday was great. The shops all open again in a minute so I'll go see if I can buy another pair of undies, maybe a full brief so I can swim in any Meseta albergues with pools without scaring children.

    Oh I have Camino goss. Yesterday, I heard the guy from West Virginia introduce himself as such to half the hostel, from my top bunk prison - once you're in, you're not getting out any time soon unless you're interested in shattering something. He told my friend (Marika, I think?) that he gets up at 4am to do the Rosary, whatever that is, and be on the road by 4.30am when "the birds start singing". Given dawn is at about 7.20am at the moment with sunrise about half an hour later, I reckon I'd rather see than listen to birds in the dark for three hours but whatever floats your extremely chatty boat.

    Anyway, over a bottle of wine that night with Dave, Marika and her awful German mate, the bluntest woman I've literally ever met, it came out that West Virginia might be a giant fake, which is DELICIOUS. He was seen getting out of a taxi a few hundred metres from the albergue, then running the remainder to arrive puffed, before putting on a performance of massaging his calves in the kitchen. I was therefore thrilled to add to this lore by grabbing Marika in the dorm this morning and hissing that I'd spotted WV still here at 7am, wearing a head torch as if he was meant to leave at 4.30 but got held up.

    Mate, just chill out? Nobody cares if you get a taxi or leave when the rest of us do. To be honest nobody would have paid you a scrap of attention if you hadn't been such a flog about it all. I hope to catch him in the act at a later date.
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  • Purple Rain

    April 8, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 9 °C

    I've gone absolutely wild and bought:

    - a singlet, for the hot walking days I'm trying to manifest in the Meseta
    - sunglasses, for the same
    - a replacement pair of underwear
    - a very small (15ml) bottle of Loewe perfume because damn it I want my scent association. Probably could have picked a cheaper one in the interests of future me, but it's appropriate in the sense it has good longevity, spring relevant notes, and it's a Spanish house.

    Flush with my purchases I've come to a bar for a snack and a read. There were lots of people in here but now I'm alone, and they're currently playing Purple Rain, loud. Popping this feeling in the vault.

    Looking forward to getting back underway tomorrow. I've made an art out of deliberation over the Meseta but I reckon just walk and see. Can't hurt. Fingers crossed for a functional spine tomorrow pls, I did ask nicely in the cathedral just to hedge my bets.

    This book, by the way, is so excellent.
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  • Burgos to Hontanas - part one

    April 9, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ -1 °C

    A big day of firsts for this tiny trekker!

    1. First day of the Meseta, the plateau between Burgos and Leon.

    2. First blister, a cute little thing on the tip of my second left toe.

    3. First time needing to walk with the USB lid powering my med canister as I haven't had access to a freezer in Burgos for the cold brick.

    4. First 30km+ day on the trail - there have been other days over that but only including post-walk (what I'm calling 'after work') wandering around the town, where as purely albergue to albergue today is 32km.

    The bunks at the municipal in Burgos have completely nuked my back, and I'm honestly shocked I walked nearly 35km all told today. It was not great in the morning, loosened up about the 20km mark, but luckily it was pretty much the best case scenario terrain for the pain - extremely flat and reliable footing.

    I woke up every hour between midnight and three and got up at 3.45am, reading by the light of a vending machine and having my first two of what ended up being a four coffee day. When the doors opened at 6.30am I was off like a hobbled shot, weaving through dark streets to reach frosted fields on the edge of the city. Between the rain yesterday and a cold front overnight, I watched my breath billow and heard my footsteps crunch in the 1 degree stillness.

    I was inspired to listen to the whole Purple Rain album after that bar last night and, I dunno how recently you have, but I must say that When Doves Cry and PR are head and shoulders above the rest of the dross on that record my goodness.
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  • Burgos to Hontanas - part two

    April 9, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 9 °C

    The Meseta is a plateau, which means it's wide and flat. There's no shade, towns are more spaced out, and if one isn't close you know that for a fact, because you can see for miles. I can imagine in summer, that's all a bit hard. Today, it was clear, still and cool. Sun warming my hair but puffer on. Perfect walking weather, if less than optimal covert pee terrain.

    After stopping for a coffee in Tajardos, a coke in Hornillos (the traditional end point of today's stage) and Oreos on the side of the trail twice, I had four kilometres to go and was starting to count down. I was also really hungry and hoping to catch lunch before this 2-5pm shut down everywhere has. So I put my foot down and turned in 11-minute kilometres but still rolled in after two.

    I was resigned to eating something at the bar when I saw Rusty, both buckled and buckling up, outside a restaurant. He asked if I'd eaten, and told me he'd just had the best meal of his whole Camino including quite a lot of wine, and what's more they were serving for another hour! See separate post about that but spoiler alert, I agree.

    I got to check in to my albergue all in Italian, again, I wonder if it's common or I'm just finding every Italian hospitalero there is. My Spanish really stands no chance when I'm speaking its sister tongue so much but I am improving slowly.

    Today was one of my favourites of the whole trip and the idea that it nearly didn't happen almost stops my heart. Of course every day, every moment of our lives is a miracle of coincidence, but it's too much to imagine so I, like you probably, tend to think of a plan and unplan binary. Today was unplanned. It could have gone in so many directions, ended in so many towns. But it's wound up here. And how lucky I am for it.
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  • PRAISE BE

    April 9, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 11 °C

    It might not look like much but Rusty was right, this was, by a country mile, the best meal I've had so far in Spain. And I've walked heaps of country miles now, so I know.

    I heard a lot, before I came, about menu dal dia (of the day, allegedly a thing introduced by Franco) and menu peregrino (pilgrim, usually a few euro cheaper and significantly less exciting) but somehow I've not been connecting with them.

    Today I did. I got lentils, a lamb stew, bread, water, 500ml of red wine, and an icecream for €15 and it was insanely delicious. Because I'm incapable of not being The Best Customer I also got a coffee on the house.

    I then went home and had a nap, and to be honest if you'd been awake since 3am and walked 35km and had four glasses of wine and REAL SHEETS for once, you'd have done the same.
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  • Hontanas to Boadilla del Camino - pt one

    April 10, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 3 °C

    In the mornings, I walk with my shadow. The sun rises behind me and she arrives, her edges starting soft and diffused and becoming firmer as the day goes. She's extremely tall, bobbing her head across fields I am yet to pass. On a trip defined by solitude, these moments of disembodiment are a strange comfort - she is with me, going on ahead, and I am here.

    In the here, it's cold, and I am stiff. I clench my fists so resolutely crescent moon bruises are etched into my palms, a distraction from the pain radiating in sharp pangs from my lower back down my thighs. Occasionally one will take me by surprise and my knees will buckle, which must look to those behind like an impromptu curtsy to the dawn. How do you do? This hurts.

    It makes it all the more remarkable, amongst this discomfort, that this turns out to be one of my favourite days yet.

    Approaching Castrojeriz, a man calls out to me from his bicycle. I met him last night, drinking wine with his neighbour, a 60-something Luxembourg man here ostensibly to 'supervise' him but secretly I think loving the adventure, and a South Korean man who rode the wave of his country's digital revolution.

    Clearly on the prowl as well as the Camino, the man had said that he could see in my eyes I had a reason to be here and would pray for me to reach Santiago. I'd argue anyone that's travelled halfway around the world to do something obviously has a reason, and am always wary of men weaponising sincerity, so held him politely yet firmly at arm's length in the conversation.

    "Australia! You're going to achieve it" he cried, one hand off the handlebars to wave.

    I know.
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  • Espacio interior

    April 10, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 6 °C

    Castrojeriz is the town I'd have been staying at tonight if I wasn't so extremely fit yesterday. As it turns out, it comes about 10km into my day, and I take my time with it. Inviting me to do exactly that, a sign persuades me to peek into an open door. Inside is a true gift, completely unsupervised, trusted. Astonished, I stay in the space for close to an hour. I have since donated to the artist online, what a wonderful soul. I was very moved.Read more

  • Meseta hospitality

    April 10, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 13 °C

    After around eight kilometres, I arrive at the historical site of a pilgrim refuge, the building in ruins but the spirit going strong. A trestle in the gravel entrails bears coffee, some biscuits, a donation urn. We are invited to sit. It is the first of many gestures of hospitality today.

    A church in the middle of nowhere stands quietly, its door open to a cool interior. A man appears to tell me I can use the bathroom in the house behind if I would like. I take a biscuit, leave a donation and shake his hand.

    Coming to a small store with a handwritten sign on the door advising it closes at 2 and reopens at 5, I check my phone to see 2.14pm. A man emerges from a shed, asks if I want something. He unlocks the door, steps behind the counter and slices chorizo to make me a sandwich, asks if I want a Coke - cold or room temperature? I sit outside, hoping the cats he shooed away come back.

    If this is the Meseta, I strongly suspect it's going to be the highlight of the Camino.
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  • Hontanas to Boadilla del Camino - pt two

    April 10, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 16 °C

    I didn't need to buy that perfume, the Meseta turns out to have its own. Every town is scented with what seems like a spiced smoke, I assume fuelling woodstoves in houses. I want to find out what kind it is, that'll be a fun task for Google, and then seek it out in a fragrance.

    It's gorgeous here, these sepia towns must camoflauge completely in the summer when everything is scorched. We're all blending together too, a singular wardrobe of outdoor-wear, which makes distinguishing nationalities slightly more of a game, and it's interesting to see how people play it with me.

    The Italians think I'm French (they say it's the face, I'm sure it's the bob). The Spanish think I'm Italian (which I reckon is just the Italian accent slipping in when I try to speak Spanish). When, at the bottom of The Hill of the day, Yeori from the Netherlands and I finally talk for the first time after days and days, he does so in Dutch, assuming I am too. When he's corrected he explains that I have a very "Dutch vibe". In the interests of not offending Harry and Erica I'm choosing to take that as a compliment.

    Nobody ever guesses Australian, often even after hearing me talk - my accent is soft. I don't think Rusty has this problem. The only thing he could do to make himself more convincing is to add corks to his hat, as he sings out "g'day mate" and thanks people with a sincere "grassy arse".

    I walked today with a different pace. I dawdled, I stopped often. I got lunch during the walk rather than at the end. All told, I started at 8am and finished at 4pm, 31km in 28 degrees. The pictures show the extent to which this walking in this landscape is following a ribbon of white into the horizon.
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  • Normal Virginia

    April 10, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 17 °C

    The guy running this hostel was great. He really liked my passport photo, and I don't think he was even being sarcastic,
    SO THERE.

    They ran a €14 menu for dinner and absolutely everyone was there as it was a two horse town, so that was nice.

    I sat with Sophie (Denmark, we've bonded extensively over Mary), Sarah (NYC), and Jane (Virginia).

    Jane would like you and everyone else to know that the song is actually referring to the western part of Virginia (quote, normal Virginia), NOT West Virginia, and that's supported by topographical references.
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  • Boadilla del C. to Carrion de los Condes

    April 11, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 5 °C

    Three significant pieces of wildlife news from today.

    1. I was first out of the albergue this morning and all to myself, I had a baby deer walk out onto the path, and run along it for a bit. How special! I gasped.

    2. After a few days of none, I once more found a ladybug in my way. What a relief! I gasped.

    3. I saw 5c on the ground, and was going to pass it when I remembered 'see a penny, pick it up, all day long you'll have good luck'. IMMEDIATELY on picking it up I saw four cats. This then exploded to a 13-seen 2-patted day. What stats! I gasped.

    'They' say that the Camino has three distinct quadrants. SJPP to Burgos tests you physically, the Meseta, mentally, and Astorga to Santiago is a celebration. It's true that my legs no longer hurt at the end of the day (although that's been the case for more than a week NOT TO BRAG) and its nice and flat. The battle just shifts to gravity and heat. It's one you stand a chance with in April. I don't think I'd enjoy July.

    Caffeine should have its own budget line item - coffee and Coke are cornerstones of the diet, along with bread and increasingly, but trailing by a long way, lentils. Today I subsisted on the first two until 3pm which honestly was quite stupid.

    There was a minute in the last five kilometres when I completely floated away from my body and couldn't feel my legs. I assumed I was going to pass out but didn't. I'll be more organised in future, and have breakfast. In fact I've just finished my lunch and I'm off to the supermarket now.
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  • Hit me - 50km of thinking distilled

    April 11, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 22 °C

    In the great Blackjack game of life, I will 'stay' unless the 'hit' is virtually guaranteed.

    If you don't play Blackjack, another way of saying that is that I am very easily satisfied with what I consider to be as good as it's going to get. And my bar for that is, on reflection, quite low.

    I live carefully, with a gentleness infused with worry - stepping mindfully to not upset a balance, a temper, myself.

    I am not ambitious, I am not confident. I know I am clever and kind but I have low self esteem generally. I am prone to playing it safe, because the gap between what is and what could be is one I am scared of falling into. I avoid the edge.

    Depending on the day, I view this collection of attributes as lazy or humble, cowardly or honourable. I am simultaneously uncomfortable and proud of my ability to accept, and appreciate, very little. I am a glass-half-full person because I wouldn't have said anything if it was a quarter. Half is a gift. More is greed.

    The Camino as a teacher is a well-worn metaphor, but lessons *are* abundant. So many times, I've been reluctant to move on. I have been with lovely people in a lovely hostel having a lovely time in a lovely town. Yet the Camino urges us to keep going, and rewards those that do with more wonderful things.

    It is showing me that this is not as good as it gets. There is more good to be got. Do not, literally or figuratively, settle. At least not out of fear, anyway. Ask. Receive. Accept.

    I hope I am brave enough to take this lesson home.

    ****

    Disclaimer: obviously at no point in the above am I talking about my base level privilege of which I am aware and grateful. I'm not looking a gift horse remotely in the mouth when it comes to being housed, fed, healthy, safe, and employed.
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  • Sister Act III: Boarding School

    April 11, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 21 °C

    It's run by nuns and there are NO BUNK BEDS I'm catatonic with glee. Will Ms Clavel tuck me in?

    This town has collected everyone, as after it "starts the big straight track and the longest section of the Way without any settlement or village. Over 17 km await from here to Calzadilla (all of them belonging to the Roman road connecting Bordeaux to Astorga). Cheer up and Buen Camino."

    So yes, definitely having breakfast tomorrow. I've bought some mandarins, a protein yogurt, tomatoes and bread. There's also a kettle, in His name we give thanks, so I can have a tea.
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  • 31km in beverages

    April 12, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 10 °C

    As I've said, I should probably have stocks in coffee and Coke at this stage. Some enterprising chap had set up a food van halfway along that 17km stretch at the start and I stayed there probably too long but it was just so comfortable.

    Next pit stop was the customary 20km Coke, followed by an exciting new player entering the game at 25km - Kalimotxos, a 50/50 blend of red wine and Coke. If you're at home and you do that, you're a cretin, but here it's cultural and possibly the best walk fuel possible?

    Water obviously, it can be tempting to not drink in order to not have to pee as much, but today just wasn't an option.

    Finally, in Moratinos, a pre-shower beer with my feet in a fountain then a post shower red wine surrounded by six cats vying for I don't know what, unless they're alcos?
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  • Carrion de los Condes to Moratinos

    April 12, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 19 °C

    I got away pre-7am and was so smug about it, but somehow today took forever! I walk quickly when I'm walking, especially here where it's so flat you can churn out 11 minute kilometres with no hassle, but in the heat I'm finding my breaks come more frequently and take longer. That's fine, who cares? Not me. It is nice to finish before the sun gets overhead though - by 3pm it's in your face, the temp is as high as it'll get all day, and it all gets a bit harder.

    Admittedly I had an ambitious target today, hoping to get to a town on paper 32km away (but I'm finding its always more). At 3.50pm I'd done 31km and was in the town '2.5km' from where I'd hoped to be and called it. I don't think anything good happens after 4pm on the trail. That's a rumour I just made up and I'm sticking to it.

    In the 17km stretch without a town or a bend that started the day, I was chaperoned along by a lot of insects and birds. Some of the birds didn't bother to tuck their legs in on the short flights along the path and they looked really stupid, I hope they knew that.

    Tonight when I have internet I'm going to google how bees move laterally so quickly because it honestly absorbed me for about 10 minutes at a rest stop. Have you ever watched them? They are LIGHTNING and I don't understand how because they aren't pushing off from anything and their wings are so small. Maybe Eva knows.

    Every rest stop at a bar is a chance to check in with the herd and swap updates - who's going where, who's up ahead. Everyone seems to be in contact with each other, and while I've been given numbers and feel some pang of exclusion whenever texting is brought up, I don't regret not getting a sim card. I like being completely adrift most of the day, until I connect to wifi in the albergue. Dave has my Instagram, I assume he'll tell me anything critical - he made me aware that in Fromista a cat came into the albergue and slept on someone's bed and I've never in my life been more jealous.

    At the first rest stop of the day I met the Australian tour group the Beatles told me about, more specifically their guides, one of which they were particularly sour on. They had described this guy to me as an absolute knob, strutting around as a saviour but useless in the moment. So I was curious to put a face to the dickhead. Two of the Beatles have a medical background. Ian was the operational manager of a hospital in England during Covid and retired early two years ago due to burn out - attributing his recovery to a year of therapy.

    Apparently, ages ago one of the women on the tour fainted from exhaustion, and this tour guide handled the situation by kneeling next to her, loudly announcing she needed to eat, and trying to fork meatballs into her unresponsive mouth. As Ian and Steve spat over dinner as they regaled the story, "give her a fucking coke you idiot". So that was fun to meet him. He did think he was God's gift. To be fair, if I got to do this and get paid I probably would too.

    Circling back, I was going to push on but it was hot, my arm was getting sunburned, and it was late in the day. I saw an albergue festooned with Italian flags and figured if I can a) do it all in Italian and b) eat well tonight, then its worth the stop. I also don't want to get to Sahagun too early tomorrow, as they dole out a Meseta certificate but the office only opens at 9.30am.

    It's the first time I've been charged for those stupid disposable sheets (€2) so I'll be critiquing dinner carefully. She told me you eat well here so WOE BETIDE HER LITTLE ITALIAN BUM if we don't. It's carbonara and some other stuff. I'll let you know.
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  • Halfway point stocktake

    April 12, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 24 °C

    SJPP to Santiago de Compostela is hard to nail down as a distance, surprisingly, everyone has a different number but it's usually around the 780km mark. This is just the trail, obviously, the wandering around after the day is done is extra.

    So I reckon this 390km to go mark in Terradillos de los Templarios (named after the Knights Templar) will do as a mid point.

    Some quick stats:

    Days on Camino: 18
    Days walking: 16
    Rest days: 2 (Pamplona and Burgos)
    Distance walked: 498km, 70,1175 steps
    Average daily cost: €31.70/$51 (albergue €11.70/$18.70, food and drink €20/$32)
    Blisters: 2, very minor, both on toe tips
    Shoe status: minor wear on inside heels
    Cats pat: 12

    I've walked nearly 500km? But I'm so tiny! Will you please note in this photo my ingenious hands free snack device, such as you might see attached to a horse or another barnyard animal. I've put a bag of chips in it. Immensely satisfying, tomorrow I might try suspending a piece of cake on a fishing rod just out of reach.

    I mean all this is to assume I'm actually doing the Camino. Keen eyes will have noted the length of this trip is 49 days, imagine if I was smashing out a Survivor season instead and just doing a phenomenal job of covering my tracks? We may never know.
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  • The halfway celebrations continue

    April 13, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 18 °C

    Sahagun, enterprisingly, has attempted to corner the midpoint market. While it might not be geographically correct if you started in SJPP, it offers two lovely opportunities to mark the occasion - an arch near the city, and a halfway certificate (Carta Peregrina) at the Sanctuary of the Pilgrim Virgin. Pretty certain they made this certificate up to get people to visit this sanctuary but whatever, it worked.

    I bush-bashed the approach because I didn't know you could take a more demure path if you went round the block. It was going well until I encountered basically a dry moat between me and the sanctuary. I said to myself 'you probably should have gone round' as I started my descent.

    I promptly fell down the hill. I've spent nearly a decade teaching new skaters not to fall backwards so muscle memory kindly ensured I smashed down onto my knees, with the weight of my backpack then pushing me flat onto my stomach so it looked like I was attempting to skeleton the slope. Getting up from that position is actually quite hard, it involved a bit of rolling.

    Casually adjusting my straps and hoping I could get the grass stain out, I admitted aloud 'you DEFINITELY should have gone round' and then, humbled, went and got my certificate.

    You'll look at this photo of it and you'll like it, because lord knows whether it'll make it home in one piece. It's currently sandwiched between medical letters in the water bladder pocket of my pack, and I wish it well.
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  • Moratinos to El Burgo Ranero

    April 13, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 23 °C

    Dinner was actually really good, so those Italians live to see another day. There were only seven of us staying there (off stage), which made for an interesting table. Me, a nuts Italian guy on a bicycle, an Austrian guy. A completely nice and normal Austrian couple and an unusual American couple, in that they'd been travelling constantly since they both lost their businesses in 2020 (she works online to support them though I'm not entirely sure how given that work is "running a non-profit"). The solo Austrian guy tried to rollerskate from Munich to Hamburg once because his colleague told him he couldn't. He got 100km then bought a bike. Like I said. Odd crew.

    I'm a sensory princess at the best of times and today for some reason really set me off. There was something *touching me* constantly - a cobweb, a hair, my pack straps, ugh! Each day, after a while in the heat with my hands swinging my sides, my fingers swell up and I have to take my tightest ring off. Today, I could actually feel the breeze in the tiny tiny hairs on my knuckles and I didn't like it. The cobwebs in particular I do not understand. I'm walking a well worn path. I'm not the first today, I won't be the last. HOW is there a spiderweb here, what determined little Charlotte is at work, she can CHILL OUT until later because her work is just going to keep getting wrecked.

    Every day for the past four (?) days, I've been passed by two old guys biking in the opposite direction. This I also do not understand. Are they orbiting me? Does my version of the Truman Show not have enough extras? If they are doing this in reverse we should have crossed once. Tomorrow I shall fling myself in their path and demand an explanation.

    Another 30km day and I'm in El Burgo Ranero, listening to a Dutch girl that just got to the albergue say she came here because her private room across the road had flies - can you imagine? I certainly can, it's nearly 30 degrees, we're in farm land, and the window was probably open. But sure babe, you do you.
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  • By volume, an A+

    April 13, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 23 °C

    First time I've gotten an entire bottle of wine included, that's for sure. Taste wise, pretty decent too. €14 and I'm happy and ready for bed.

    Edited to add: in preparation for bed I've realised I've lost my battery pack, most likely in Hontanas when I charged it after the USB lid walk. This actually is frustrating given it's new and useful and I should be more organised than this but it's also Just A Thing and I'm not going to lose sleep over it. It is one of the miracles of travelling alone that I get to decide exactly how much weight to give everything. One quick GRRRRR and we move on.Read more

  • Booming

    April 14, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 11 °C

    I am sitting here in utter disbelief at the RUCKUS being caused by, and I'm not generalising here as it's a fact, men between 50 and 65. This albergue has three upstairs rooms but it's a loft style roof, meaning the walls don't go up all the way, there's a gap and we all share airspace.

    I have the bunk withdrawal process down to an absolute minimum in terms of time and decibels. I come to the communal area (and if there is none, outside) and do my dressing and deodorising and repacking and zipping there. It's surprising how much variation there is in the rush hour albergue by albergue, some you don't hear anyone move until 7, others are earlier.

    I was downstairs by 5.30, joined by another decent human being at 5.45 and then from 6 I actually don't think I could have made more noise than these BEASTS are making upstairs if I tried. One of them dropped his stick, clattering down the bunk ladder as it fell, twice. I'd have killed myself after the first time so that completely blew my mind.

    I'm waiting until my phone gets to 70% (because naturally they hogged the two chargers per room upstairs) then I will walk around giving each of them a sharp poke in the ribs, turn and glare at them at the threshold, put my nose in the air and storm off.
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  • Castilla y Leon o sin?

    April 14, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 12 °C

    There's an element of homeschooling to my time here in that I see something I don't understand during the day and then do homework on it in the afternoon when I have wifi. Learning is for life!

    As I mentioned, I'm in Castilla y Leon, the largest, but not only, autonomous region in Spain. Accordingly, most of the trail signage (which, by the way, I don't find as romantic as that in other regions, it's a bit HERE) says Castilla y Leon on it.

    Closer to Burgos, occasionally you'd see the 'y Leon' crossed out. In the past few days the 'Castilla y' has been attacked with a consistency and intensity that increases commensurate with proximity to Leon.

    Today for example, ending in a town 15 minutes from Leon, every single sign has been defaced and I've seen LOTS of graffiti saying things like 'Leon solo (alone)' and 'Leon sin (without) Castilla'. So it's obvious something's up in C y L.

    The long and short of it appears to be "a former Francoist minister, a failed appeal to the Constitutional Court and a counterweight to the nationalists."

    When the Catalan and Basque regions went autonomous in the 70s there was some anxiety they'd be too powerful, so one of Franco's guys convinced Leon to band together with the Castilla region to create a supergroup the majority of Leon people didn't want, and which Leon immediately and unsuccessfully tried to back out of after agreeing.

    They've tried appealing this for ages, and there's some suggestion a new legal avenue might have emerged in the last few years. By the looks of it, some in Leon remain quite enthusiastic about going at it alone.

    In other studies, mum has come through with some insights on those horrid caterpillars. As I suspected, they are up to absolutely ZERO good. Cop the following:

    "DO NOT touch the caterpillars! Their hairs are extremely irritating and may cause long-tern dermatitis and other serious skin conditions. Pets may also have negative reactions. …… The millions of long fine, needle-like hairs that cover each caterpillar are sharp and very brittle. These readily penetrate and break off in human skin and contain an irritating protein that produces a highly allergic response in most people. The hair shafts are covered in microscopic barbs, making them extremely difficult to remove. If these hairs get in the eyes, they can cause blindness …..Being voracious eaters, they will sometimes defoliate their tree and need to move to another. When they do this you’re likely to see them moving as a single train, of up to 200 individual caterpillars, in search of a new tree."
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  • El Burgo Ranero to Puente Villarente

    April 14, 2024 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 14 °C

    Some non geographical differences I'm noticing in the Meseta are as follows.

    1. The emergence of actual tapas, i.e a free snack you didn't order to accompany a drink. So far I've had olives, bread with cream cheese and ham, and bread with sardine and peperoncini. To my absolute delight, in Sahagun this extended to coffee - instead of the typical biscuit or chocolate I got a tiny custard pastry.

    2. Getting charged for those disposable bedsheets, or there being actual real ones. The most I've paid is €2 so far.

    3. No more books in albergues, I'm assuming if you started with one you've finished and left it by now and didn't replace it. Bum!

    4. No more coffee vending machines or public toilets, haven't seen since Burgos and Logrono, respectively.

    In men-in-car news, today offered two stories. First, I'm absolutely sure I saw Uncle Fester driving a Fiat Panda. Secondly, a fat man in a flash car gave me a funny wave which made me realise that's the first time in the whole trip that I have felt at all sexualised.

    Maybe it's part of the pilgrim protective bubble, meandering along in our androgynous clothing, on a holy (to us) mission, it puts us off limits? Maybe I'm just scruffy and nobody's been keen? I hadn't even realised the liberating calm until that skeeze threw a pebble in and I felt the ripples. Go away please I'm busy being a sacred vessel.

    The kilometres absolutely melted away under me today, I cant believe I've gone from worrying if I'll be able to do 20 a day before I came to now considering 25 a short day, but I have. Another very straight very flat run, but not needing to concentrate on the ground does let you really get into the old bonce and look around. It's nice to have hours, days, to chew on an idea, roll it around and break it down, until it's something you can swallow.
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