Frómista

A 24.9 km day that started with a steep climb up the Alto de Mostelares this morning where we had magnificent views of the valley behind us. We stopped at a tiny auberge in a chapel along the way before connecting with a canal that brought us into the town of Fromista.
Once again, I started this morning in 5 degree weather, but the shining sun made walking enjoyable, providing I maintained a brisk pace. At the Alto de Mostelares summit, I reconnected with the same three people I was with yesterday. Cat, the physiotherapist from Austin, spent some of her day helping pilgrims with shin splints and foot issues. One thing I learned is that if you massage your feet, you should do it upwards rather than downward. Apparently, it improves the circulation. For shin splints the best thing to do is to rest, but many struggling with this ailment have to slow their pace. Stopping was not an option for them.
I had a great discussion with Joachim, the Spanish literature teacher who knew more English than I thought. He gave me excellent insights on Don Quixote, arguably the best novel of all time. I learned from him that de Cervantes, the novel’s author, died the same day as William Shakespeare. We then moved on to Shakespeare, comparing Henry V St. Crispin’s day speech to William Wallace’s speech in Braveheart.
Francisco, the agronomist from Chile, owned a huge raspberry business in Mexico, although he did live in Chile, that employed over 3000 workers. He sold that business, which he says provided France with 50% of their raspberries, for an even larger blackberry business. I suspect he’s very wealthy, but he chooses to stay in auberges, living simply and communally. One thing that left a mark on him was stopping at a small church where a very elderly nun volunteered her time providing pilgrims with small religious medallions tied with a simple string. She did this with such a sense of purpose, feeling it was the most important job in the world, while expecting nothing in return. He, especially, cherished the extra one she gave him for his mother back in Chile. I have included photos of my three friends and the medallion; I had stopped at the same church and was given the same one.
It was very windy again today and our walk was disrupted when an elderly lady was bowled over by a cyclist right in front of us. She was stunned, incurring extensive cuts, bruises, a swollen nose that bled incessantly and possibly broken. Many people stopped to help, and the cyclist, who had just sped past us, was quite apologetic. This lady’s son was understandably irate, but once her senses were restored, she smiled, forgave the cyclist, and thanked everyone.Læs mere