• The World on Two Wheels

2018 Spanish Camino

Our 2018 European Adventures will mostly take place in Spain & Portugal. We start with a walk along the Camino pilgrim route to Santiago, followed by a ride in Portugal. We finish with some time in Amsterdam and the Swiss Alps. Leggi altro
  • Inizio del viaggio
    18 settembre 2018

    Packing in Pakenham

    16 settembre 2018, Australia ⋅ ⛅ 8 °C

    I can't remember exactly when I first heard about the Camino walk. I think it was several years ago when I met some walkers who were training on the 1000 steps in Ferntree Gully. It might have been unknown to me at that time, but over the past few years it has cropped up in conversations, books, movies and pictures so many times that I decided that it was something I needed to do for myself.

    The word "Camino" simply means "path or way", but it has most often been associated with the walking path to Santiago de Compostella in northern Spain. This path has been walked by pilgrims for over a thousand years, ever since the remains of the Apostle James were apparently discovered there.

    In ancient times the true pilgrim would start from their own front door and walk the entire way to Santiago. This means that there are multiple Camino paths that start from locations all over Europe and all converge on the Cathedral in Santiago. When travelling in Europe you often come across these various walking routes, all of which are identified by the symbol of the scallop shell. The radiating lines on the shell all converge to a single point and that represents the destination at Santiago.

    Although there are many variations of the Camino, the most famous is the so called "Spanish Camino". This is a 700 km walking route from the Pyrenees to Santiago. When most people refer to the Camino, it is this path they are referring to.

    Of course, to walk 700 km takes a significant investment of time - about 40 days in fact. The other factor I took into consideration was that much of the traditional route has now been taken over by busy roads. The prospect of walking for hour after hour on hard bitumen with cars flashing past at high speed is not so exciting. That meant I looked for another option.

    The final answer was to complete a "modified" version of the Spanish Camino over a period of 17 days. This would allow us to still follow the full route, but we would skip sections that were busy or boring, concentrating on the parts which offered the most enjoyable walking experience. Although some might regard this as some sort of cheating, I figure that you are only cheating if you claim to be doing something you are not. Since we will still be walking up to 20 km each day and, since we never claimed to be walking the entire 700 km, I believe it will still be a very worthwhile achievement for every participant.

    About 18 months ago I shared these plans and soon had a keen group of 12 who wanted to share the walk with me. Since it is a long way to travel to Europe for just a two week walk, I have also combined the walk with an 8 day bike ride in Portugal. I have never previously visited either of these countries before so I still don't know exactly what to expect.

    With previous adventures I have developed a reputation for being very well organised. I prefer to have all details covered long before I leave Australia and to have my bags packed and ready at least a week before departure. Unfortunately this has not been the case this time.

    Due to several circumstances outside my control, I seem to have had about a hundred matters that kept requiring my attention. My travel bag has remained empty in a spare bedroom, with a few random items scattered around it. It has only been in the last 24 hours that I was finally able to throw myself into packing. I furiously worked through my list, grabbing clothes, shoes, chargers, cables, batteries, etc and sorting them all out. By last night the packing was almost completed and I could finally begin to feel in control again.

    Tomorrow night I will be meeting several others of our team for our Emirates flight from Melbourne Airport. I don't know whoever thought that 5 am was a good time for a flight, but that is what my ticket says. Of course the long wait at the airport in the middle of the night will be easy compared to the ordeal of 24 hours in transit between Melbourne and Madrid in economy class. I can hardly wait.
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  • From Melbourne to Madrid

    18 settembre 2018, Spagna ⋅ ⛅ 17 °C

    Once in a while we have probably all had one of those "plane flights from hell". You all know the type. It's the type of flight that gets off to the wrong start by being delayed multiple times, while you are sitting crammed onto a metal seat on the departure lounge. It's the type of flight where you find that the only set available was in the middle of the central row, where there is not a single empty seat on the entire plane and your fellow travellers on other side immediately take sole ownership of the respective "arm rests", leaving you no option but to try to cram your elbows into your own rib cage.To make matters even worse the oaf sitting in front of immediately reclines their seat to take away the remaining 3 cm of personal space that was left to you. And when the sad looking airline lunch finally arrives, the bun promptly jumps from the tray and disappears somewhere down into the dark space under the seat in front of you, never to be seen again for the duration of the flight. The real irony is that the little bread roll was the part of the lunch that, for some reason, you had been most looking forward to.

    Fortunately for the four of us that were departing on the early morning Emirates from from Melbourne to Dubai, that was not our experience at all. Apart from the fact that someone in the Emirates hierarchy had thought it was a good idea for a flight to leave at 5 am in the morning, the rest of the story was about as good as an economy flight from Melbourne to Europe can ever become.

    After the long wait at the airport we entered the huge A380 right on time. Allan and I had chosen to pay a little extra for exit row seats, hoping that our knee caps would not get fractured before our Camino walks had even begun. It was worth the extra few dollars.

    We both made ourselves comfortable, stretching out our legs as far as we could. It was almost heaven in a biscuit. When we looked around the vast cavern of the plane's interior, we were very surprised to see that there were empty seats everywhere. The plane was probably only 50% full, possibly even less. The story got better and better. I started to think that I had dozed off in the waiting lounge and would soon awake to the real horror. But it never happened.

    There is no gilding the fact that a 14 hour flight to Dubai is always going to be a LONG time, however this was almost certainly the best long haul economy flight I have ever had. I even managed to watch a couple of movies, listen to part of a talking book and get a few moments of sleep along the way. It was also such a delight to be able to stand up and walk around the plane any time I felt like it. There was also NEVER a queue at the toilet. All flights should be like this, even the hostesses were friendly and chatty.

    After a short 90 minute transit at Dubai (it was over 40C outside - but then that was probably a cold day by their standards) we were ushered into another huge A380 for the second leg from Dubai to Madrid. If the first plane was only partially full, then this one was absolutely deserted. There were only a few scattered heads poking above the seats when the announcement came to lock the doors. It never gets any better than this.

    After take off the few passengers on board moved around to secure some personal space - 5 or 6 seats each would be about right. I flipped up a couple of arm rests, jammed a pile of pillows under my head and pretended that I was in business class. It worked, because I managed to quickly doze off into a restful couple of hours sleep. It was only when I awoke and discovered that the pillows had slipped out, that I realised that the back of my head had been permanently imprinted with the shape of the armrest.

    The entire flight experience was so wonderful that I have now been spoilt for all future flights to Europe. We arrived at Madrid, right on time at 8 pm. The sun was just hitting the horizon and we were about to see the wonderful end of a long day.

    It's always a relief when you see your own luggage on the carousal and you know that you will not have to wear the same clothes for the next six weeks. We were soon out of the airport and at the taxi stand. I had previously done my homework and knew that a genuine taxi would charge exactly 30 Euro for the trip to the centre of Madrid. This is good value when we were able to fit three people in the same taxi.

    I exchanged my three words of fluent Spanish with the driver and we were soon speeding on our way through the (now dark) streets. It was the first time any of us had been to Spain, but the passing kaleidoscope of illuminated buildings looked like any one of a hundred other cities that I had been similarly sped through.

    About 20 minutes later we arrived at our hotel and were checked in. My room is about 2 metres wide by 7 metres long and the sole window is tiny. But it was clean, the air conditioner worked and the bed was comfortable. Good night everyone.
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  • A Hot Day in Madrid

    19 settembre 2018, Spagna ⋅ ⛅ 25 °C

    It often amazes me how a city that looked completely alien just 24 hours ago can start to feel familiar. All it takes is a few landmarks to help you feel at home. The hotel entrance that looked strange last night when we arrived at 9 pm, already feels like a welcome refuge from the heat and crowds.

    I guess everyone has their own way of exploring a new city. For many, their orientation consists of trying to see as many of the "tourist attractions" as possible in a limited amount of time. Judging by the number of people we saw with their selfie sticks, the aim is to take your photo in front of each and every attraction, presumably to prove that you were actually there.

    My own way of exploring a city is to largely ignore the recommended attractions, after all there are only a limited number of cathedrals and art galleries you can really appreciate. I have always preferred to just wander the streets and see where my legs take me. I find every new street and alleyway an exciting place to discover and learn about the city and its inhabitants at the same time. After all, you do not go all the way to a place like Madrid, just to surround yourself with fellow tourists, Surely it is the locals you went to see.

    And as for the selfies ? Anyone who know me already knows that I never take selfies.

    After a reasonable night's sleep I met Allan and Douglas for breakfast at the (much later than usual) time of 9 am. I was very pleasantly surprised with the standard of the breakfast, especially considering we are staying in a "budget" hotel. The scrambled eggs were so good that I just had to go back and have a second serve.

    Thus fuelled up with eggs in my engine, the three of us headed out into the city. Overhead the sky was clear and blue, and you could already feel the heat starting to build. A short walk from our hotel we discovered the Plaza Mayor (Main Plaza). Every Spanish city has a Plaza Mayor and this is usually the place that is regarded as the heart of the city. It seemed like a logical place to start.

    I had not know what to expect to find in Madrid, however I did think that the buildings would be rather knocked about like they are in Italy. To my surprise I found the buildings to be in excellent condition. Madrid is filled with a lovely variety of strikingly beautiful examples of architecture, some of which reminded me of those you find in Paris. The streets were clean, the pavements in good condition and the traffic flowed freely. I immediately started to feel comfortable here.

    After some time in the Plaza we wandered our way through the city towards the Parque de El Retiro. This is a huge park,right in the central part of the city. It seemed like a great place to spend a hot day. As we entered through the impressive gates an illuminated sign told us that the temperature was already 34 C. Shade seemed a logical idea.

    By this time we were feeling like lunch. We found a nice cafe in among the trees and enjoyed a leisurely chat while we ate. The next couple of hours were spent wandering the gardens and watching the people pass their time. There were a myriad of activities available, including rowing boats around the large central lake. Many others were exploring the park on electric scooters and bicycles.

    When our legs started to weary we felt it was time to head back towards our hotel. A late afternoon siesta seemed attractive, however when I reached the bed, the sleep would not come. I watched a little Spanish TV instead. I never knew that Jimmy Stewart could speak Spanish, but here was one of his old movies and his Spanish was surprisingly good. It was a pity that it really didn't sound right. Why don't they use subtitles I wondered ?

    Much later in the day we walked a short distance to find a place to have dinner. We found a suitable place and were soon happily enjoying our meals while an unlikely looking muscle bound clarinet player did a very good job of playing Acker Bilk classics. His playing was excellent but of course it was not free. At the end of his set, he went around the tables "requesting" money for his efforts. We paid him, but we did not pay the very loud (and not so talented) piano accordionist that followed him.

    It had been a lovely start to our brief time in Madrid.
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  • We Visit the King and I Get on TV

    20 settembre 2018, Spagna ⋅ ⛅ 31 °C

    The sun rises quite late here at this time of the year. At 8 am in the morning it is still quite dark and the air is fresh and cool. This makes the early morning the best time of day to do your exploration.

    We had already decided that today we would head off towards the Plaza Mayor and then continue to the Royal Palace and the nearby Madrid Cathedral. After another lovely breakfast we donned our walking gear and headed off into the city. It was amazing how quickly we were beginning to feel at home in this place and we were beginning to feel more confident in wandering the central part of the city without losing our bearings completely.

    At 10 am the large Plaza Mayor was almost deserted, apart from a few young tourists posing for their selfies. Allan and I decided to sneak into the background and photobomb one couple's carefully staged picture. We both put on our most stupid looking faces and looked over their shoulders into their camera. Surprisingly we did not get a punch in the face from the guy as they both seemed to think it was quite funny.

    Continuing on past the plaza we soon came upon the distinctive white buildings that are a feature of the palace precinct. Our first glimpse of the imposing Royal Palace reminded me a little of the Palace of Versailles. The area outside the place was still largely empty, although a few eager tourists were beginning to form a queue outside the ticket office. Since none of us had any real desire to pay money to view the inside of the palace, we decided to walk around the corner to have a look inside the huge Cathedral of Santa Maria instead. At least the entrance was free.

    Our journey then took us past the Egyptian Temple of Debod. In case you were wondering whether the Egyptians actually made it all the way to Spain - they didn't. Apparently the temple was dismantled stone by stone and then reassembled in this unlikely location. Another example of the theft of Egyptian artefacts and monuments by the wealthy European countries.

    Our final stop was the lovely Parque del Oeste (Park of the East). The shady trees provided some relief from the heat that was rapidly building up and we indulged ourselves in some people watching. By this time our tummies were telling us that it was time for lunch and we eventually found a lovely little outside cafe where we enjoyed a delicious lunch. They even gave us a plate of free paella. A pity about the jackhammers that were relentlessly pounding away at the street pavement a few metres away.

    After lunch we wandered back to the hotel (our bladders could not last out all day). After a brief rest I ventured out again on a short walk and it did not take long before I found a well dressed guy with a microphone in his hand. He was standing next to a very mature lady with MUCH too much make up on her ageing face. This looked interesting I thought. As the camera man manoeuvred about trying to get the best angle, I also managed to work my way around to behind the couple. After all I now considered myself an expert in the abstract art of photobombing.

    As the interview started I managed to walk back and forth in the background. It's not everyday you get the chance to star on Spanish TV and I had nothing better to do with my time. I thus felt that I had made maximum use of my brief stay in Madrid. Tomorrow afternoon we take the train to Bilbao where we will meet up with the rest of our team.

    I can honestly say that we have really enjoyed our all too brief time in this city.
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  • The Slow Train to Bilbao

    21 settembre 2018, Spagna ⋅ ⛅ 16 °C

    The distance from Madrid to Bilbao is only about 400 km by car. When I found out that the "high speed" renfe train would take us over 5 hours to complete the trip, you can understand why I was slightly confused. Douglas and I had lashed out the bargain price of only 22 Euro for First Class (Preferenta) seating,whereas Allan had, for some unknown reason, opted to settle for a standard seat when he made his booking. When we found out that we had all paid the same amount for our seats, the situation became even more mystifying. But this is Spain after all.

    We had previously spent our last morning in Madrid having a final wander around the streets of the central city. We had elected Douglas to be the tour leader as he seemed to have spent the most time learning the major landmarks. All he was missing was a selfie stick with a yellow flag on the end.

    He soon had us frogmarching up and down a series of hills (mostly up) and through a number of gift shops. He has been on a quest to find a charm for his wife to attach to her charm bracelet. His quest seems just as forlorn as that of the legendary Man of la Mancha. After three days in Madrid, all he has managed to buy is a brightly coloured dress, and I am not convinced that it is even his size.

    By midday it was getting hot again and I was starting to get hungry. I asked Douglas if lunch was included in his tour, but apparently it wasn't. The first place we considered eating at was about as quiet as the main runway of Tullamarine during take off time. The combination of jack hammers and other heavy equipment was enough to make my ear drums bleed. We went on a quest for quietness and finally found a much more peaceful pedestrian only area, with a likely looking outdoor eatery.

    We picked up a couple of menus and could not believe the great prices of the food. A lovely looking baguette, filled with chicken, cost only 1.2 Euros (about $1.60 AUD). There was even about a 100 different combinations to choose from. We ordered our baguettes, paid our Euro 1.20 and waited for the feast to arrive. What nobody had warned us was that the photos in the menu must have been taken through an electron microscope with a 100,000 x magnification. The baguettes were actually perfect miniature reproductions - each about 4 cm long. I ate mine in two swallows and still felt hungry. We learned that you are meant to order quite a few of them to make a lunch. At least the drinks were cold and cheap also. Next time we will look for a proper tour guide who would have clearly explained such local idiosyncrasies.

    On the other side of our planet there was a football match going on in Melbourne. It was the preliminary final between Collingwood and Richmond. To our shock and horror, Collingwood was actually winning. We could only imagine how horrible it must have been at the MCG with all those toothless and tattooed Collingwood supporters belching their delight. I really was glad I was a world away at that time.

    By 2 pm it was getting hot and it was time for us to check out of our hotel and catch a taxi to Chamartin Station. We had ordered and negotiated a special rate for the taxi and were impressed when a shiny black limo arrived to chauffeur us to the station. We felt like pop stars as we were silently gliding through the streets to the large central station.

    After a short wait we made our way to the allotted train and took our seats (Doug and I in First Class and Allan in steerage). Right on time the train started moving and was soon smoothly making its way through the rolling hills to the north of Madrid. According to my GPS we were moving at around 150 kph, so there was no way the 400 km trip could take over 5 hours. Or so I thought.

    Over the next couple of hours the speed of the train varied between 70 kph and around 150 km and the landscape slowly became more hilly and interesting. We passed a succession of picturesque villages, each with its obligatory large church in the middle. Rather than travel in a straight line, the route of the train started to curve and wander around large hills, sometimes passing through extended tunnels. The time slowly passed. The outside grew darker. Unfortunately Bilbao drew no closer.

    With over two hours still to go, Bilbao was still 100 km away and the light had almost gone. It was only when it was completely black that the train entered a spectacular mountainous region. Well I am sure it would have been spectacular if we could have seen anything. I was watching the screen of my GPS which showed just how circuitous the route was. At times the train almost completely doubled back to where it had been 20 minutes earlier. The route that was being drawn on my screen began to resemble a snake in its death throes. All this time the speed of the train had slowed down to what seemed like walking pace. Now we understood why the journey was going to take so long. It was just a pity that we saw none of it.

    The train finally rolled (very slowly) into Bilbao Abando Station at about 9. 20 pm. The journey seemed almost as long as our flight from Australia a few days earlier, but we were here. We were also very hungry as we had not eaten anything since that microscopic baguette, about 9 hours earlier.

    Outside the station we climbed into a taxi and asked to be taken to the Barcelo Hotel. He didn't seem excited. When we arrived at the hotel, about 500 metres from the station, we understood why. It had taken him longer to pack our luggage into the boot than the actual journey itself. I felt we had to reward him, so I gave him a smile and a generous extra 3 Euro. Considering that was twice what I had spent on my lunch, I reckoned it was pretty good.

    The luxurious Barcelo Nirveon Hotel was a rather pleasant surprise. Sometimes it is nice to be spoilt and this was a lovely surprise after the long train trip. Even though it was well after 10 pm, the restaurant was still open and the 15 Euro set menu was great value. It was also delicious.

    Back in my room I was thrilled that my room had a real window and the bed was soft, clean and cool. By tomorrow all of our team will have assembled and our adventure will begin in earnest.
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  • This Guggenheim Certainly Isn't Crazy

    22 settembre 2018, Spagna ⋅ ⛅ 30 °C

    There are some cities that you just quickly dislike from the start and there are others that immediately make a favourable impression from the moment you take the first step out of your hotel door. I am pleased to say that Bilboa is definitely one of the latter. In fact I would go as far to say that it is a beautiful, beautiful city - a place that I could quickly get to love.

    With its modest population of 300,000 it is big enough to feel like a substantial place, but small enough to feel personal. It is also helped by the fact that it is situated in a natural amphitheatre with a line of hilltops surrounding the central part of the city. The lazy River Nervion wanders through the centre of the city, making it so easy to never get lost. When you want to find you way back to the hotel, just follow the river bank.

    I must admit that the day did not get off to a great start. When I checked my computer for the football score in the second Preliminary Final, I could see that Melbourne was already ten goals behind and it was not yet half time. So much for the dream result of a Grand Final between Melbourne and Collingwood. Somehow I could not feel disappointed as it really had been a good year for the Demons, and we had finally had a few reasons to feel heart after 54 years in the doldrums.

    At breakfast we met up with Allan and Lorelle who had arrived in Bilbao the previous day. .John Wilcock had also made it safely from Barcelona without having his pockets picked. That brought our team up to 6, meaning that we had reached the half way point. By this evening all the team should be here and we will be able to share our first meal together.

    Speaking of breakfast - it was superb. I am a little ashamed to say that I somehow spent two hours there, although I was not eating the entire time. We did do a lot of talking, laughing and catching up.

    After breakfast Allan, Douglas and I wandered out to see more of this wonderful city. Once again the weather was perfect. Although every day the temperature is in the mid 30s, it is not as tiring as you might expect. The low humidity helps to keep you comfortable (and it really helps your washing to dry also).

    Baby boomers of the 1950s and 1960 might remember the Jackie Gleeson Show on TV. It featured a guy with a funny hat called "Crazy Guggenheim". (In case you are thinking that is a funny name for a hat, it was the guy that was called Crazy Guggenheim, not the hat). His real name was Frankie Fontaine and he had a superb singing voice that somehow he got to feature at the end of every comedy skit.

    A short walk along the river from our hotel there is another Guggenheim - the Guggenheim Museum of modern art. Although I had seen pictures of this amazing building, nothing can prepare you for seeing it the first time in the flesh. I am not an expert in architecture, but this place really is a work of art in its own right. In fact I would have been happy to just stare at it from different angles for hours. Although I am proud of our Sydney Opera House, in all honesty I would have to say that this place is far, far more beautiful.

    It would be hard for me to describe the building, other than to say it resembles a fluid collection of shapes and angles that seem to dance before your eyes and play tricks with your sense of perspective. The entire exterior is covered with what must be hundreds of thousands of titanium panels which reflect the shapes and colours of the landscape and sky.

    One of the iconic features of this building is a large, spider like object between the back of the building and the river. It reminded me of some alien creature from War of the Worlds. At irregular times the entire riverfront area is obscured by a mist of water ejected from concealed jets. I suspect that this feature is especially welcome in the middle of summer.

    Tomorrow we will be exploring the interior of the Guggenheim, so I did not enter inside today. I wandered back along the riverfront, somehow losing Allan and Douglas in the process and later found myself in the centre of the old city. This is a region of tiny alleyways, old half timbered buildings and an imposing cathedral. It was this type of old city that we had felt was missing from Madrid.

    As I sat down for lunch next to the cathedral I took my hat and sunglasses off. The sunglasses immediately snapped right in half. So much for taking them on the Camino. It was just as well I had not paid for them. Actually I found them a couple of years ago in the glove compartment of a rental car in the UK, so I don't suppose I can complain.

    I arrived back at the hotel at around 2.30 pm and felt that it might be time for a siesta. You know the old saying about "when in Rome".
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  • In the Footsteps of the Pilgrims

    23 settembre 2018, Spagna ⋅ ⛅ 14 °C

    Today has been an extremely long and eventful one. It began with another glorious breakfast at the Nervion Hotel followed by a meeting with our local guide. She introduced herself as Ann and then explained that her main responsibility was to take us on a tour of the inside of the Guggenheim Museum.

    Our group formed itself into a walking peloton and followed her along the riverbank as she explained how Bilbao had indeed been a city with a lot of problems and all too little beauty. The building of the Guggenheim had transformed an especially ugly area of disused shipyards into a work of art that thousands come from all over the world every day to admire. I was especially amazed that such a building could have been made for only 90,000,000 Euro. Considering the money it now attracts to the city, that must have been one of the biggest bargains of all time.

    The interior of the building is just as stunning as the exterior, although some of the displayed works by Picasso, Van Gogh and others left me a little underwhelmed. Maybe I am just a Philistine after all.

    After a couple of hours inside the building I joined Allan for a ride up the funicular railway to the top of one of the mountains overlooking the city. It not only provided a sensational view of the city, but the air was cooler and fresher as well. Although the hilltop location was obviously a tourist mecca, the price for the delicious hamburger I ate at the restaurant was a very reasonable 7 Euro (about $10).

    By 3.30 pm it was time to return to our hotel to meet Carlos, the young guide who will be accompanying us for the next two weeks on our Camino walk. He explained that he had actually been brought up by Spanish parents in Germany, thus giving him the ability to speak both Spanish and German without an accent. He later learnt English at school and spoke that very well also. I guess that is one advantage that kids raised in Europe have.

    It was time then to load our gear on to our bus, driven by a young, baby faced Spaniard called Raoul.W e then set out on the long drive into the Pyrenees to our starting point at Roncesvalles, just 5 km from the French border. It was a wonderfully scenic drive, especially the section from Pamplona onward. In the winter this whole region is blanketed with snow, but at this time it consists of green steeply sloping hills, interspersed with a succession of small alpine villages.

    At around 7 pm we finally pulled up outside the ancient Beneficiados that was to be our home for the evening. This city dates back over 1400 years and you can feel the antiquity seeping from every ancient chapel and monastery here. We also caught our first sight of other pilgrims on their own personal journeys to Santiago. Tomorrow morning we will be taking our first steps along this ancient path. Our first day's walk will be a very hilly 19 km, so I wonder just how well our feet and legs will rise to the challenge.

    Although our building dates back hundreds of years, the rooms have been extensively modernised for accommodation. My room was actually quite enormous and the evening meal we were given was almost as big as the room. I think that must have tried to fuel us up for the entire walk to Santiago in just one meal. The only dark shadow hanging over the start of our walk is the forecast for long temperatures and steady rain. Oh well, I guess it was not (always) meant to be easy.

    As for me, I am exhausted already after the very long day, and since the hour is late I am heading for bed. The internet connection here is very slow so the pictures will have to wait till I get a better connection. Good night all.
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  • Our Long Walk Begins

    24 settembre 2018, Spagna ⋅ ⛅ 15 °C

    Q. When you are spending the night in a centuries old Beneficiado, high in the Pyrenees, what is the sound that you most don't want to hear ?
    A. If you answered that it would be the sound of the ghostly pilgrim, endlessly wandering the corridors on their eternal walk, you would be wrong (although I did hear the ghost several times outside my room in the wee small hours of the morning). The actual answer of course, is the sound of steady rain on the roof. Even worse when it is the ceaseless sound of heavy rain. We well knew that, in the morning, we would be facing our first real test of the trip when we begin our personal journeys with a walk of 20 km.

    When my alarm went off at the very early hour of 5.30 am, it was still pitch black outside. Of much more sinister relevance was the fact that the rain was still pouring down. When I poked my head through the window I could also feel that the temperature had dropped significantly from the previous evening.

    I started to sort my gear for the day. The first step was to place every vulnerable item in a plastic bag. In went my wallet, phone, camera and GPS. I began to think that I should be looking for a bag big enough for me to climb inside.

    By 7.00 am I was dressed and ready for breakfast. Our experience of the previous evening showed that food servings on the Camino are of biblical proportions. In spite of all the walking involved, it is already unlikely that any of us will actually lose any weight. Breakfast was no exception. There was a vast offering of options to choose from and most of us availed ourselves of the opportunity to "fuel up" before facing the elements outside.

    After securing our first stamps in our Camino passports we were finally ready to get underway. Fortunately the rain had slackened off to a much more gentle drizzle and I was glad that I had dispensed with the thermal fleece that I had originally worn under by rain jacket.

    We posed for the obligatory group photo, had a final look around Roncesvalles, and walked out of the town in the direction of Santiago.The sign on the outskirts of the town said that we had 790 km to go. Of course we will only be walking about a quarter of that as we had already made the very appropriate decision to leapfrog some of the less interesting sections along the way.

    When I had begun planning this trip I had no real idea of what the actual walking paths would be like. I had pictured in my imagination that we would be wandering through idyllic forests and beautiful villages along quiet paths with fellow pilgrims. In the back of my mind I could not help but fear that the actual walk might be far different. To my utter delight it turned out to be even better than I had hoped for. Much better in fact.

    Although the first few kilometres were walked in a light drizzle, it actually seemed perfectly appropriate for the location we were in. We walked through a succession of lovely birch forests, interspersed with rolling farmland. Along the way we shared the paths with a succession of fellow walkers from a variety of diverse countries.

    As we made our way steadily along the route we had plenty of time to examine our thoughts and to absorb some of the incredible history that was steeped into every footfall. How many hundreds of thousands of other pilgrims had walked these same paths over the past thousand years ?

    The sky above began to lighten noticeably and the drizzle ceased. With the steady series of uphills and downhills, people started to remove layers of clothing. The temperature was actually perfect for this type of walking and the scenery in this part of Spain is simply breathtaking.

    At one point on the walk I noticed a rather rotund guy struggling to make his way up a steady climb. Now some of my more unkind friends might refer to me as "stout", but this chap was positively a real rolly polly type of fellow. We walked in behind him and started to chat. He told us that he was from Montreal and he had allowed himself 8 weeks for the walk. He was now three days in and was already struggling badly, especially on the hills. In spite of his struggle, he was still moving ahead and we met up with him several more times during the day. I had to admire his courage and I really hoped that he would succeed in reaching his goal.

    When we finally reached the end of the first day's walk, my GPS told me that we had covered 20.25 km. I suppose that was why most of us were quite relieved to finally sit down for our final transfer to Pamplona - the city famous for the annual running of the bulls.

    On the way to Pamplona we stopped at a small village to finally have lunch. The meal was excellent but somehow there was a mix up with the payment of the bills and it looked for a while that we would be subjected to a full scale inquisition in order to pay for the infamous glass of sangria and cheese sandwich. The mystery was finally solved and we were free to leave without having to wash the dishes and mop the floors.

    We arrived at the lovely city of Pamplona around 5 pm, tired but thoroughly proud of our efforts. If the rest of the walk is even half as good as the first day, we will be in for an amazing time.

    Unfortunately the evening meal at the Hotel Maisonnave was not up to the high standard of the previous two hotels. The cafetaria style offering of a chicken leg and some chips was almost completely devoid of character and effort. At least the room was comfortable and we can only hope that the breakfast will not also prove to be a big disappointment.
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  • Pamplona to Logrono

    25 settembre 2018, Spagna ⋅ 🌙 16 °C

    It is easy to fall asleep after you have walked 20 km. In fact I have made an art form of falling asleep just about anywhere in no time at all. Although the evening meal at our hotel in Pamplona was rather disgusting, the bed was comfortable and I was soon far away from Spain in the mythical Land of Nod.

    I was awakened at 5.30 am by the sound of my alarm rudely interrupting my slumber. It was time for another very long to begin. Fortunately the breakfast was much better than the previous night's evening meal, leaving us even more mystified as to why they could not even put the minimum of effort into that important meal.

    When we rolled our luggage into the street we could already see that the chances of rain (or even clouds for that matter) was absolutely zero. The sky was blue from horizon to horizon, promising another hot day in the Spanish sunshine. Even at this early hour the Camino Path was already populated by a steady procession of early pilgrims making their way out of Pamplona.

    We soon joined them on the steady climb up to the Siera del Perdon. We were told that the top of the climb was clearly visible because of the long row of wind turbines along the summit ridge. They didn't look that far away, but they also never seemed to get any closer. All the while the path wound ever higher, affording us amazing views down to the rolling plains below us.

    After about 10 km of walking we were finally nearing the summit and we caught the first sight of the line of steel pilgrims that form one of the most famous sights on the entire Camino Path. We gathered in front for a group photo, to prove to those at home that we had actually made it this far.

    There were also a couple of entrepreneurial guys seated at a small table offering the most impressive Camino stamps we had seen this far. Every pilgrim carries a Camino credential (passport) which is progressively filled with stamps at each significant location along the way. This documents provides evidence that the pilgrim has completed a certain distance.

    While most stamps are a simple rubber stamp, these guys went a lot further by adding a dob of hot wax to which a small token and seal were attached. I had to admit that it really did look impressive, even if it did cost me 3 Euro.

    The descent from the summit was quite treacherous as it was down a steep slope covered with loose round stones. It would have been very easy to fall, but somehow I stayed upright and managed to reach the safer sections where it levelled out somewhat. The sun was now high in the sky and the wind was almost non existent. It really felt hot. My back started to ache. The life of a pilgrim is not an easy one.

    I have noticed that people approach the Camino in widely different ways. Some seem determined to just get to the next point as quickly as possible. They look straight ahead and have no time to chat, meditate or do anything. They are on a mission to pass everyone in sight.

    Others prefer to take their time and enjoy the journey. They are always looking about and consciously soaking in the surroundings. These people often smile and are happy to chat with their fellow pilgrims. Stories are shared and, for a very brief time, friendships are made.

    From time to time we also encountered those who were riding bikes. These were even more determined to get past as fast as possible, often offering a shout to scare the walkers off the trail in front of them. I would not be surprised if they are recording their efforts on Strava, to try to better the time of the last rider to come this way.

    I have to admit that I feel the closest affinity for the slower walkers as I think that they best en capture the true meaning of what the camino should really all be about.

    The end point of our day's walk was the famous bridge at Puente de la Reina, just over 20 km from our starting point at Pamplona. When we finally arrived I was very happy to stop walking and give my sore back a bit of a rest. After a late lunch in a local cafe we climbed aboard the bus for our short transfer to Logrono. A look around the bus showed that many pilgrims had fallen into a deep sleep.

    We are now happily arrived at the Gran Via Hotel in the centre of the city. When I found that my room had a bath tub I promptly filled it with hot water and proceeded to soak my sore back for over 30 minutes. It certainly felt good. When I met up with the others for dinner I found that several of them had also done exactly the same thing.

    Speaking of dinner, it was served in a much nicer room room than the previous night's dinner, but we were not so happy to discover that the main course was, once again, a chicken leg and some potato slices. It was almost the same as the last hotel, albeit it had been cooked better. The desert was also a very disappointing little container of icecream, obviously straight out of the freezer section of the nearest supermarket. The only thing that was supplied in abundance was copious quantities of wine - not much use for those of us who do not drink it. If you want anything other than wine, you have to pay for it. Strange but true.
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  • Logrono to Burgos

    26 settembre 2018, Spagna ⋅ ⛅ 18 °C

    "Today will be a much easier day", Carlos assured us. "It's only about 15 km of easy walking and will only take about 3 hours". Of course we later found out that this was a bald faced lie.

    The day began pleasantly enough. I awoke long before the first light of sunrise and decided to look out my window. Although the hotel was situated in the commercial centre of Logrono, I was somewhat surprised to see a steady stream of pilgrims were already out walking. Each of them was labouring under the weight of their heavy backpacks. I looked about my comfortable hotel room and could not help feeling a little guilty. But not for long.

    To walk the entire length of the Spanish Camino, especially for those carrying all their own luggage, certainly requires a huge degree of perseverance and dedication. We had only walked around 40 km so far and most of us were already feeling the effects of the repetitive walking. I was certainly glad that I had a clean and comfortable bed to look forward to each evening and very, very glad that our luggage was being transported each day in the bus.

    Our day began with a bus drive to the town of La Guardia (just like the famous airport). In this La Guardia there were no planes in sight, just a collection of very old buildings and a large church. We had been booked into a large winery for a tour of the premises and a wine tasting. Since I have us much interest in wine as I do on the history of the dung beetle, I did find the couple of hours we spent there rather tedious. The underground tunnels, however, were quite fascinating.

    The bus then transferred us to the start of the walk at Montes de Oca. The first 4 km of the walk were through lovely green forests and the relative cool of the morning made it quite easy to do. Since rest stops were in short supply along this section, we stopped for lunch at a large cafe. I ordered a beef casserole which was quite delicious.

    We then came back outside to find that the temperature had climbed a few degrees. The Spanish sunshine made it feel even hotter than it probably was. At this stage we were still under the delusion that we only had about 11 km to walk. How hard can that be ?

    Almost immediately we were faced with a steep and prolonged climb. Not the thing you want after you have been resting for the previous hour. It did not take long for the usual culprits to speed away from the front of the group, leaving about 8 people to make up the remainder. At this point I must mention Douglas for the incredibly patient way he stayed back to ensure that everyone was OK. Although he could have easily outpaced everyone, he was content to put other people's well being before his own wishes. This takes a very special type of person and demonstrates something of the true spirit of the Camino.

    The path itself was often very rocky and unstable , making the walking quite tiring. The first climb was the most significant, however there were several more steep pitches that we encountered along the way. For many kilometres we walked along a somewhat monotonous path through a forested area. Unfortunately the path itself was exposed and the trees offered little shade.

    Although we were making steady progress, the hours started to tick by. By 5 pm we were still walking and there was no sign of the Monastery that was meant to mark the end of the stage. It was very clear that the original promise of "15 km" was hopelessly inaccurate.

    Just as the heat was starting to really take effect we cam e across a carload of people offering cold drinks and snacks for a donation. I suspect that, at this isolated location, this was actually a clever way to gain maximum revenue. I am sure that most people donated much more than the drinks would normally cost.

    It was only at sometime after 6pm that we finally arrived at the day's end. My GPS said we had walked over 18 km and it certainly felt like it. We all took the opportunity for a rest and a drink before boarding the bus for the final transfer to Burgo.

    Our hotel was situated right in the middle of the city and we were rather excited to discover that it was a 4 star hotel with enormous rooms. In fact it was probably the best hotel we have had so far. The evening dinner was also well received (no chicken), although I still cannot understand the practise of providing unlimited wine without charge, but if you want anything else you must pay for it. Not only does this seem unfair to me, but it also encourages drinking to excess. That seems to have become an unfortunate part of life on the Camino.

    As I retired to bed for the evening I could not but wonder how the portly fellow from Montreal was progressing. We had met him two days earlier and he had been having a hard time of things. I really hoped that he was still moving towards his own personal goal.
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  • Burgos to Sahagon

    27 settembre 2018, Spagna ⋅ ⛅ 26 °C

    After only three days of walking the Camino, our team was already starting to resemble the famous troup of ancients featured in the TV classic Dad’s Army. Although I was pleased that my back felt a lot better, I was not so pleased when a close examination of my feet showed that I was starting to develop a blister on one toe. Fortunately, when I counted the toes themselves, the total still added up to ten.

    As the members of our team slowly filtered into the huge breakfast room of the Palazio Hotel, it was evident t that they were not as fit and agile as they were a few days earlier. In fact a couple had obviously decided to skip breakfast and have an hour or two of extra sleep instead.

    After breakfast we were told that we were going to be given a special guided tour of the old city and the cathedral. We were met by a diminutive Spanish gentleman who introduced himself as “Louis”. He then proceeded to address us in Spanish. No wonder there were a few blank looks. Fortunately he realized his mistake and switched to something that slightly resembled English. We shuffled off into the narrow streets of the central part of Burgos.

    In spite of his thick accent, the guy was actually quite interesting and I managed to learn quite a bit about the history of Burgos. I also learned that Henry’s wife Catherine of Aragon actually came from a part of what is now Spain. We explored the famous palace where Christopher Columbus had met with the Spanish King to receive funding for his expedition, although the building has now been converted to a very opulent looking bank. Our tour continued along the beautiful riverbank to the ancient Cathedral. We learnt that it had taken “only” 65 years to construct back in the twelfth century. It had been built in the Gothic style and the front entrance resembled the famous Notre Dame in Paris.

    Inside the cathedral we were told that it was strictly “no flash” for cameras, but Louis then surprised us all by producing a green laser pointer and then zapping it all over the roof and walls of the building with gay abandon. It is Spain after all.

    At 11 am we were back at the hotel and had a few minutes to prepare for the walk and get our luggage ready for the short walk to the bus. We then went on a drive to the start of our walk at Castrojeriz. Of course many of us took the opportunity to immediately close our eyes and get some more sleep.

    We are now walking on the Castillian meseta, a type of high treeless plateau. It was obvious that shade would be a rare commodity as we were surrounded by bare paddocks where crops had recently been harvested. Fortunately there was a slight breeze to temper the heat, so off we went.

    We quickly discovered that this was obviously a busy part of the Camino and we could see many fellow pilgrims stretching into the distance before us. At least the path itself was well formed and relatively flat. The plan was to stop for lunch at a small village some 11 km along the way. At least we would get a good part of the walk over before the worst heat of the afternoon.

    The walk itself went well until we were startled by a horrible sound like a huge swarm of bees. We looked up to find that it was a drone heading straight over our heads. Carlos explained that this was completely illegal in Spain, so I didn’t feel too guilty when I tried to swat it out of the air with my walking pole. Unfortunately I missed. It was certainly an unwelcome intrusion into our personal space and reinforced my own personal dislike of these glorified selfie sticks. Sometimes technology has a lot to answer for.

    The lunch stop was surprisingly good. We had a lovely sheltered area to eat in where the shade, the food and the cold drinks were all equally welcome.

    The final 6 km of the walk were in the heat of the afternoon and I could feel that little baby blister on my toe growing into adulthood. I felt a little better when I discovered that Carlos was also having trouble with his feet and stopped to remove his shoes and apply bandages to his wounds. The Camino is not an easy walk, even when you are only doing a part of it.

    The path eventually joined the tow path alongside an old canal and we were pleased that there was finally some dappled shade. When we finally made it to Fromista my GPS told me that we had walked around 17.5 km, making our total walk in the past 4 days about 75 km. And that does not include the many extra kilometers we have walked around the towns we have been staying in.

    After a couple more cold drinks we climbed into the bus for the transfer to Sahagun. It did not take long for most of the passengers to fall into a coma. I only awoke when we pulled up outside the huge modern Puerta de Sahagun Hotel. This was easily the biggest hotel we had stayed in so far. The foyer alone seemed to stretch so far, it felt like we were in an airport terminal.

    When I finally finished the 2 km walk along the huge corridors to my room, I was thrilled to see that the room was also huge and modern. It had every modern convenience you could imagine – even a bidet in the large bathroom. I soon discovered that the only thing the room did not have was wifi. This was a huge disappointment for such a huge modern hotel. The only place I could check my email was way back down in the foyer (another 2 km walk from the room).

    I decided to forget the email and attend to more urgent matters. After removing my shoes and socks, I went straight to the bathroom and submerged my feet in beautiful cold water. I could almost hear the steam rising when they first hit the water. Simple pleasures are sometimes the best.

    In spite of the disappointment with the lack of wifi, we were all eagerly looking forward to the evening meal. Unlike the previous few nights, we had been promised that we would have a choice from the full menu. That way everyone would have something they really liked.

    At the prearranged time of 7.30 pm we were all eagerly waiting in the foyer. There was a small problem – the restaurant was not ready for us. We waited, and waited, and waited some more. Finally at 8 pm we got the message that they were ready for us. We made the long (very long) walk through the foyer, through several other empty restaurants, another corridor, a couple more rooms and finally into the restaurant that had been prepared for us. I felt like we must be half way back to Roncesvalles by now, the place was so big.

    We were seated at a huge table but soon discovered that there were only three menus for the fourteen of us. That was the first problem. The next one was that there was only ONE waiter for the whole hotel. I did not ask whether his name was Manuel or whether he was from Barcelona, because I already knew the answer.

    It only took us an hour or so (and a huge amount of confusion) to place our orders. If it had not been for the assistance of Carlos, we would have still been there. After another long wait, the word came back from the kitchen that some of the items on the menu were no longer available (probably gone off). This necessitated more changes of orders. Manuel disappeared for long periods of time, then reappeared with the wrong items. It quickly degenerated into a farce. I could only imagine what would have happened if Gordon Ramsay could have seen what was happening.

    I eventually got the bowl of “scrambled” that I had ordered for starters. It was supposed to have seafood in it, but I think that meant that there was one prawn that had to be shared between about 6 people. While all this was going on, the time ticked by relentlessly. It was soon 9.30 pm, then 10.00. Most of us just wanted to go to bed. It had already been a long day.

    When everyone else had received something that might have been what they had ordered hours earlier, I was still waiting. I looked at the blank space in front of me and no longer felt hungry. After Carlos made some enquiries on my behalf, it became evident that the sweet and sour pork that I had ordered was also “off”. I don’t think it had ever been on. At least those who had ordered something called “jaws” had been supplied with a substitute. It was that sort of night. Actually it was hilarious. It is situations like this that can really make a trip memorable. I know when we look back in years to come, I am sure that we will all laugh about the weird night we had in the enormous hotel in Sahagun.

    My substitute dinner eventually arrived. I never did find out what it really was, but it was OK. We still had desserts to figure out. Some had made the wise choice for icecream, not knowing that this meant choosing your own drumstick from the fridge around the corner. The icecream eaters were instructed to form a conga line and then make their selection from the fridge. They came back with their ice creams, while the rest of us waited. I was almost asleep.

    My rice pudding was served just before sunrise the next morning. It had been a fascinating day. I will remember it for a long time. Tomorrow we reach our half way point at Leon. We will then reward ourselves with a rest day. As it also happens to coincide with the Grand Final I suspect I already know what some will be doing.
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  • And Then There were Nine

    28 settembre 2018, Spagna ⋅ ⛅ 26 °C

    After the fiasco of the previous evening, we were all a little apprehensive as to what form our breakfast would take at the Puerta de Sahagon. Getting ready in the morning was a little easier than usual as I didn't have the distraction of the Internet to delay my preparations. The only place in this huge hotel that has an Internet connection is the foyer. I still cannot understand how the proprietors must have found millions of Euros to build the place, but could not find a few thousand extra to set up wifi routers for the rooms.

    At least the breakfast looked reasonable, with the usual offerings of scrambled eggs, sausages, cold meats, cheese, yoghurt, fruit and bread. The only problem was that there was only one staff member to manage the entire breakfast area. This might have been OK if the automatic coffee machines were working. Unfortunately they weren't. One quickly ran out of coffee and the other went down when the circuit breaker blacked out all the appliances down one side of the room, including the remaining coffee machine, the TV and the toaster. It remained thus for the duration of breakfast.

    The poor hassled girl in charge started manually making coffees with the machine behind the bar. This meant that she then had no time to clear tables or maintain the breakfast items. Once again the place degenerated into a shambles. Since we had to leave early for our walk, we all got up and left.

    During the evening Christine Swistak (aka C1) had fallen ill with a stomach bug and was still feeling quite unwell when it was time to leave the hotel. She had no alternative other than to stay behind and be picked up later by our bus. Her roommate Christine Brown (aka C2) decided to also stay behind and look after her. Allan Barden had been affected by the previous day's heat and decided to catch a couple of extra hour's sleep. With these retirements, our walking peloton was reduced to 9 people.

    Fortunately we were able to begin the walk in the relative cool of the morning. The path was almost flat and we made excellent progress, achieving over 7 km before we stopped for a rest under the shade of a small clump of trees. Because of the flat and open landscape we were able to see the steady stream of fellow pilgrims stretching out into the distance in both directions. This really is a sight to beyond. It is hard to prepare yourself for the spectacle of so many people all working their way towards a common goal. Each time you encounter a fellow walker you greet them with a blessing of "Buen Camino". You are almost universally given the same greeting and a big smile in return.

    We only had another 6 km to complete before the end of the day's walk. This brought our cumulative total to 88 km and we even had time for a cool drink before being collected by the bus for the transfer to Leon.

    Our hotel for the next two nights is the very impressive Hotel Silken Louis de Leon, situated in a perfect location. Not only is it within easy walking distance of the old city and the cathedral, it is also only a short walk from a laundromat. I am sure that we will all make good use of that facility while we are here.

    The end of today's walk marked the half way point of our walk along the Camino. We might not be walking the entire length of the path, but it still requires a lot of hard work, especially in the afternoon heat from the fierce Spanish sun. We are rewarding ourselves with a free day tomorrow. It will be wonderful to be able to pass the day without having another 20 km walk to wake up to.

    So what we will we wake up to ? Tomorrow morning just happens to coincide with a sacred festival in Melbourne. It is called the Grand Final. Of course we will be keenly following it from the other side of the world.
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  • It's All Happening in Leon

    29 settembre 2018, Spagna ⋅ ⛅ 26 °C

    I suppose I could take the credit for it, but that would not be entirely honest. When I was putting this trip together I really did not have any idea that we would arrive right in the middle of their important festival. I also didn't realise that our only rest day for this part of the trip would also coincide with the Football Grand Final Day way back in Melbourne. Although it may not have been planned that way, it certainly did work out perfectly. It must have been meant to be.

    The other indication our rest day was well timed, was the fact that our walking team was rapidly falling apart. Yesterday our team had been reduced to only 9 walkers. If the current rate of attrition continued we would probably all have been bedridden by Tuesday. We all needed a day of rest and recuperation. We also all needed to thoroughly wash our socks and underwear.

    When we arrived in Leon it was obvious that the festivities were already well underway. Large temporary sound stages were being erected in the many open squares in the old town, and the large number of people just wandering the streets was a clear indication that fun was in the air. We had also been told that there was to be a special organ recital in the main Cathedral, followed by an outdoor Celtic Music Performance. At first I thought that the excitement was just because they had heard that the famous Ghostriders were in the town, but I found out that the festival happens every year at this time.

    After dinner at the hotel most of us walked back into town to enjoy the activities. At 10 o'clock the place was just beginning to hum, the streets were packed with people and hundreds were seated at the dozens of outdoor cafes and bars. We made our way through the crowded streets and arrived at the cathedral plaza just in time for the Celtic group to begin.

    It surprised me to learn that Celtic music is very popular in this part of Spain and the large crown gathered in the square would support this assertion. The band kicked off with some rollicking numbers, led by the fiddle and pipe players. Some in the crowd started dancing. It was hard to stand still in such a happy atmosphere.

    I looked around at the hundreds of happy people around me and at the floodlit cathedral. Even at this late hour, the air was still warm and still. It was a great place to be. I was enjoying it so much that, if I was younger, I might have stayed much longer. The truth was that we were all very tired and so we decided to head back towards the hotel.

    Back in my room I crawled into bed and, for the first time since leaving Australia, I did not have to set the alarm for the morning. The next thing I remember was waking up a short time later. At least it seemed a short time later, but when I checked my watch it was actually 8 am. I did not think it was possible to sleep that late, since I normally wake around 6 am. For a moment I was disoriented a little, thinking that I had misread the time. But 8 am it was. I really must have been tired.

    I arrived down at breakfast just at the same time as about 80 bus travellers also chose to arrive. It was a bit of a jostling match to secure a glass of juice or a bread roll, but the masses soon dispersed, leaving mainly the Ghostriders behind. Now it was our chance to check the progress of the Grand Final.

    It was already into the final quarter and Collingwood was in front by a small margin. Although I couldn't really care who won, the thought of all those loud Magpie supporters would be enough to give anyone nightmares for months. We all began to silently wish West Coast to catch up. They did. The momentum shifted back and forth until West Coast got a late goal to seal the premiership. It was a great result all round.

    The rest of the day gave me a chance to catch up with my laundry at a nearby Laundromat and then to simply wander the streets and watch the proceedings around me.The festival was in full swing and, once again, the streets were packed. Next to the Cathedral a large fruit and vegetable market had been set up. I bought some oranges and an apple and then walked a short distance to a shop that supposedly sells the best hot chocolate in Spain. Allan and Lorelle wandered in the door and we sat and chatted for a while. It was a perfect way to spend a rest day.. Tomorrow we all get up early to resume our pilgrimage. I suspect that the closer we get to Santiago, the busier the Camino will become. Already the Camino seems to have become a part of each of us and I am sure it is a time that we will never forget.
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  • A Brief Personal Reflection

    29 settembre 2018, Spagna ⋅ ⛅ 20 °C

    Although the word Camino is most commonly applied to the walk from the Pyrenees to Santiago in northern Spain, it really is just a name for a walk, path or journey. In early times, every pilgrim began their journey from their own front door and then made their way to the Cathedral at Santiago. Now that our own version of the Camino is half over I thought it might be time to share some of my personal reflections.

    As we have made our way along the walking paths that have been trodden by untold multitudes before us, we have also had opportunity to observe those who are also making the journey with us. I found it fascinating to see how their journeys differed.

    For some it seems to be all about reaching the destination in the briefest possible time. These walkers can be identified easily because they stride along, barely looking from side to side, seldom talking to their fellow pilgrims. They have an urgency in their step and no wish to be delayed along the way.

    I also saw many that were obviously doing it hard. For them the journey involves pain, sacrifice and perseverance. Each step is a battle towards their final goal. Although it would be easy for them to give up, they seem to be driven by a long term aim to reach their final destination.

    Others walk at a slower pace and obviously take time to look around, to chat with their fellow pilgrims, to make friends along the way. These are the ones for whom the journey itself is every bit as important as the destination. They are determined to soak every last experience from the walk and I suspect that they might even be a little disappointed when it finally comes to an end.

    And I suppose there are also those who begin the Camino in a fit of enthusiasm and quickly lose interest. Perhaps it was harder than they expected, perhaps each day was hotter, steeper, longer than they were prepared for and they become discouraged. I suspect that the journey to Santiago is liberally littered with walkers who cease their journeys without reaching their original goal.

    As I thought about these things it seemed that we are all partakers of our own personal Caminos through life. Perhaps the famous Camino is really just a metaphor for our passage through life. At the beginning of our lives we do not know how the story will unfold along the way. Each person must make their own life's journey, no one else can do it for them.

    Some people charge through life, driven by ambition, power, money, fame or whatever, only to realise too late that they missed the most important things along the way. For others life can be a challenge almost every day. They may be plagued by illness, financial distress, relationship problems and the like, so that it seems like a continual uphill battle. And of course there are others who seem to always lack any sort of direction, who never have a driving passion and are constantly changing direction, seeking that elusive "something" that will give them meaning.

    The older I have got, the more I have come to realise that our true riches in life are not money or things, they are friends and family. We were never meant to walk our Caminos alone, we are strengthened and enriched by love and shared experiences. Sometimes we share the journey with others for only a short time, while with others we may share our journeys for much longer or even a whole lifetime. Whatever the duration, our lives are built on these interpersonal connections. In the final analysis our lives are really the sum total of these experiences. They are what makes us who we are.

    Enjoy your own journey.

    Buen Camino !
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  • The Journey Continues - Leon to Astorga

    30 settembre 2018, Spagna ⋅ ☀️ 23 °C

    Although it was amazing to have a rest day in Leon, I must admit that there was something inside me that was also keen to resume the walk. Even though we have only been walking the Camino for a week, we are beginning to feel that we have become a small part of a much larger story. The story itself will only be complete when we all arrive at the Cathedral in Santiago.

    Leon was something of a very pleasant surprise for most of us. I am not sure what I expected to find, but it certainly wasn't bagpipes and Celtic music. And yet that is exactly what we did find. Apparently Celtic music is an extremely important part of the culture in this part of Spain.

    I spent my final evening in Leon watching the pipe bands play outside the cathedral and then march around the streets of the old city. It was such a beautiful balmy evening that I could not help being caught up in the emotion of the crowds that were thronging the old city. It is a memory that I will cherish long after this trip is over.

    Today's walk took us to the much smaller town of Astorga, famous for it extensive Roman ruins, huge cathedral and incredible bishop's palace. The fairy tale bishop's palace was designed by Antoni Gaudi, with work starting in 1890 and taking about 17 years to complete. The building itself is a fascinating work of art and would appear more at home in Disneyland than alongside an ancient cathedral. When you are inside the palace you are surrounded by light coming at you from all directions and I almost felt that I was inside a diamond. It certainly must have been created by an incredible mind, but I am equally certain that I could never live in such a hectic place.

    The walk itself was only about 16 km, but it was enough to bring our cumulative distance on the Camino to 105 km. When you add on the considerable distances we have walked around the cities we have been staying in, our real total would be closer to 140 km.

    We started the walk early and were thus able to avoid the heat of the day. Although much of the walk was alongside a quite busy road, the final few kilometres into Astorga were magical. I am sure that our walkers are already significantly stronger than they were a week ago and the kilometres seemed to pass by without much effort.
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  • Inside the Palacio Episcopal, Astorga

    30 settembre 2018, Spagna ⋅ 🌙 18 °C

    The Palacio Episcopal in Astorga is such an amazing building I thought it warranted a special footprint, all by itself. Designed by the famous Spanish architect, work commenced in 1890 and was completed in 1915.Leggi altro

  • In Which we All Go Downhill Rapidly

    1 ottobre 2018, Spagna ⋅ ⛅ 18 °C

    Ever since arriving at Roncesvalles, about 9 days ago, we have been walking at relatively high elevations. This had been something of a surprise to me as I had not realised that so much of the Camino would be above 800 metres above sea level.

    We awoke to yet another fine and clear morning. Well actually I awoke to complete darkness, but that is probably due to the fact that my alarm is set to go off at 5.30 am. When the sun eventually decided to wake up as well (about 7.30 am) it revealed a completely cloudless sky. It is worth noting that the only slight drizzle we have seen since arriving in Spain, was the slight sprinkling we got as we left Roncesvalles on day 1 of our walk. Each successive day has been fine and clear, heating up to the low 30s each afternoon.

    Our day began with a short bus transfer to the famous Cruz de Ferro (Iron Cross). This famous location consists of an ancient iron cross atop a long column. At the base of the column a huge pile of stones has been built up from the contributions of untold thousands of previous pilgrims. The tradition says that you collect a stone from the bottom of the hill and leave it at the base of the cross. The dropping of the stone symbolises a release from whatever problem you had been carrying.

    It was quite poignant to stand at this sacred location and see the huge pile below us, realising that each stone represented a single pilgrim. Many people had also left written notes, presumably detailing their needs and requests. Some of the stones had been inscribed with the name of their carrier.

    The Cruz de Ferro was also the highest point we had thus far reached on our Camino. At 1500 metres above sea level, it towered over the surrounding countryside. It was obvious that the flat plateau of the Castille was now behind us and we had entered the mountains once again.

    Anyone who had not done much walking might think that it is easier to walk downhill than uphill. If you did think that way you would be entirely wrong. Although walking uphill might require more cardio effort, going downhill puts a lot more strain on your feet and leg muscles. It is also in going downhill that the risk of falling is much greater.

    After a few short undulations we soon encountered the steepest descents of our Camino. Not only was the slope very steep, but the path was treacherous as well. With a collection of loose stones, large ruts and exposed rock it would have been so easy to take a tumble.

    As I carefully made my way down I kept thinking to myself "Please don't let anyone break a leg". We had already had our share of broken legs on previous Ghostrider adventures (but that is a story for another day) and I certainly did not want history to repeat itself.

    Whenever you have to drop around 1000 metres you know that you will most likely have sore calves and toes by the day's end. Fortunately we only had one relatively minor mishap on the descent, but we were very relieved when the path levelled out and the day's walk was completed. It had only been around 17 km, but the level of difficulty made it feel much longer.

    We still had a very interesting bus transfer to our hotel at Herrerias de Valcarce. Although it would have been only a few kilometres as the crow flies, the nature of the mountains in this region meant that the actual route was extremely circuitous. Several times we drove over huge viaducts that were suspended high above the valley floor. The engineering was certainly impressive and we all hoped that the constructions had been done correctly.

    We finally pulled into our alpine style hotel. The Paraiso del Bierzo was certainly the most remote hotel we had stayed in so far, although my room was also the smallest. It was tucked on the highest floor, in the roof cavity. There were no windows and a huge sloping wooden beam dangerously traversed the limited interior space, right at head height. I felt certain that I would knock myself senseless on it at some stage during the night, but fortunately I managed to avoid it.

    It had been a long and eventful day.
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  • The Best Day's Walking So Far

    2 ottobre 2018, Spagna ⋅ ☀️ 24 °C

    After our quiet evening in the hills at Herrerias de Valcarce we awoke to a freezing morning. With a clear starry night the temperature in these mountain quickly dropped to near freezing point. After breakfast we took a short transfer to another mountain top start where the views down over the surrounding hillsides were absolutely breathtaking. Some of the valleys were still filled with white fluffy clouds which had not been burnt off by the low sun.

    The region we are now in is the mountainous province of Galicia. This is a huge contrast to the flat landscapes we had been hiking through a few days earlier. Although the walking is harder, it is infinitely more rewarding. Apart from the glorious views, the cool, clear mountain air made us all feel much fresher.

    Another feature of this region is stone houses with slate roofs. Some of the roofs were tremendous examples of the workmanship of the tilers, almost a work of art in themselves.

    Although we started at around 1400 metres in elevation and knew that we had to finish the day in Sarria at only 400 metres, the descent did not actually begin in earnest until long after the half way point had been reached. In fact we had a significant amount of steep climbing to complete before we could face the additional challenge of the steep downhill.

    Fortunately the path itself was in much better condition than the treacherous rocky paths that had been such a challenge yesterday. In addition we had the benefit of liberal shade along the way.

    When we felt that the steepest of the climbing section had been completed (at around the 10 km point), we took advantage of a lovely hilltop cafe to celebrate with a hot coffee. This was also the perfect location to sit, admire the views and appreciate just how far we had climbed. I believe that anyone undertaking a walk like this one simply must take the time to savour the journey. Especially in this region, the surroundings are just so magnificent, that it would be a crime to just hurry through without stopping time and time again to appreciate the beauty that is all around us.

    Although we might have been expecting an immediate descent to begin, the path actually continued along a saddle for some kilometres. Sometimes there was a small drop, but this was quickly followed by another rise. Apparently this is a classic feature of the Galician mountains. It often means that you can never get into a rhythm.

    It was not until we had reached the 16 km mark that the serious descent began. On this terrain you feel your toes squashed into the end of your shoes. The backs of your legs start to feel the constant strain and you need to pay close attention to every footstep, lest you take a tumble.

    As we descended we pass through a couple of tiny villages. At one time we found ourselves in the middle of a small herd of cows. At the front of the her a cattle dog was making sure they went the right way, and at the rear, the owner was making sure they kept moving. The houses crowded on either side of the path. Some of these looked like they were danger of collapse, while others had been heavily restored.

    With about 6 km to go we caught our first glimpses of Triacastella, nestled neatly in the bottom of the valley. We continued to descend steadily and each glimpse of the town showed that we were slowly getting closer and closer.

    When we noticed an enticing looking cafe we decided that it would be a nice spot to have a drink and rest before completing the walk to Triacastella. There were several young pilgrims already resting there. It so happened that two of our team members were celebrating birthdays today. Christine Swistak was turning 59 and Allan Barlin was celebrating being born exactly 10 years prior to Christine.

    When I suggested we could sing another round of Happy Birthday to Christine, a young German pilgrim immediately produced a ukulele and began to sing. She had a lovely singing voice and for an all too brief moment, we all felt united in the spirit of the Camino. It is these completely unplanned events that for me, make travel so magical.

    Soon we all wished each other yet another "Buen Camino" and continued on or way. A short time later we were in Triacastella and the day's walk had been completed. With a final total of 22 km, it had been one of the longest of our trip so far, but somehow it did not seem too hard at all. Perhaps we are all getting stronger, but I think it was more like being carried along on a wave of positive energy.The slightly cooler weather certainly helped also.

    We arrived at Triacastella around 3 pm - just in time for lunch. This might seem a little strange in Australia, but in Spain the rhythm of life is completely different. It is not at all unusual to have lunch late in the day and dinner much, much later. Dinner is seldom eaten before 8 pm, and often as late as 10 pm.

    After a brief stop at the huge Samos Monastery, we continued by bus the final few km to Sarria. The main claim to fame of Sarria would appear to be that it is the closest point to Santiago that you can begin a Camino and still qualify for your Compostela (certificate). I guess that makes it a popular starting point for those will not much time or energy to devote to a longer pilgrimage.

    My first impression of Sarria was slightly underwhelming as it appeared to lack the charm and history of so many of the other towns we had passed through over the past 10 days. We are booked for one night at the Hotel Alfonso IX. I guess that if it was good enough for the Fonsie, it will be good enough for us. And it was.

    It is hard to believe that in just two day's time our Camino will be complete and we will have arrived in Santiago. Tomorrow we have another long stage to complete, but I already sense that the group is really looking forward to it. Since Santiago is now almost on the horizon we are expecting to be sharing the path with a much higher number of pilgrims.
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  • Sarria to Portomarin

    3 ottobre 2018, Spagna ⋅ ☀️ 28 °C

    We all well knew that our journey along the Way of St James was rapidly drawing to a close. Tomorrow we would arrive at the famous ancient Cathedral of Santiago and our own Caminos would be over. After sharing so much together over the past two weeks I am not really sure if we are actually wanting the experience to end, or whether some part of us would like it to continue for longer.

    Although we only completed a part of the entire Camino, it was impossible for us not be effected by the passion that draws so many people together in a united goal. In such a fragmented and divided world it is rare to see so many people of so many different races and faiths all drawn along by some invisible force to just "walk to Santiago". Whether or not you really believe that Santiago is literally the final resting place of St James, it is still a very moving experience to be a very small part of.

    The path was soon shrouded in a foggy mist which filled the valley. It seemed entirely appropriate and reminded me of the misty drizzle that had accompanied us as we departed from Roncesvalles on what seemed like a lifetime ago. The path very quickly turned uphill and we were all measuring our steps as we gained altitude. I looked around at the crowd that was around me and tried to imagine what had drawn each of them from far and wide to this same point in time and place. For a short while our lives would be tied together, and we would soon part to disperse all over the planet.

    The crowded path gave us a great opportunity to chat with other walkers, This had been something that I had been looking forward to, even before beginning the Camino. The conversations would usually begin with "Where are you from ?". The rest would flow freely. There is something about walking side by side with someone that encourages inhibitions to slide and for serious matters to come to the surface easily.

    Along the way there were regular Camino posts which steadily counted down the distance to Santiago, unfortunately many of these were covered in graffiti. It is so hard to comprehend why so many would feel inclined to permanently damage these markers by writing their names all over them or worse still, stealing the brass distance marker itself.

    The 100 km post has special significance, unfortunately it was the most defaced of all the previous ones. Dozens of walkers had covered the post with their names and other messages.

    The rolling hills rewarded us with amazing views, but also "blessed" our tired legs with numerous steep climbs and descents. Although my feet have fared pretty well after walking well over 200 km in the previous ten days, there was no doubt that my legs were tired and my toes would be very glad to be finally freed from my walking shoes.

    We stopped for lunch at a busy café. There was a continual queue outside the single toilet and a waiter that would have done the legendary Manuel proud. Fortunately the food was OK and we were soon on our way again.

    The walk ended with a very steep descent down to Portomarin. At this late stage of the day and after 8 hard days of walking, all of our calves were protesting loudly. We then had to cross a huge (and VERY high) bridge across the Belesar Reservoir. The height made some of our walkers feel strong vertigo.

    It was a relief when we finally saw our parked bus and Raoul our driver. It had been one of the longest days of the trip, but the scenery was worth it. I checked the GPS and it told me that we had walked 24.5 km. No wonder I was a little worse for wear.

    All that remained was a transfer to our hotel at Arzua. Unfortunately this ageing 2 star Hotel Teodora was the worst of the trip. Situated right on a busy road the noise continued all night long, supplemented by the loud shouting of boozed up backpackers till after 3 am in the morning. At 2.30 am someone chose to add even more noise by racing up and down the street outside and dropping wheelspins along the way.

    The non air conditioned rooms were hot and tiny and mine came complete with the lingering smell of tobacco smoke (in spite of the prominent non smoking sign). In a surprise twist of events the evening meal was easily the best (and certainly the most copious) we had enjoyed for the entire trip. So much so that much food was left piled on plates uneaten.

    Tomorrow we will complete our Camino and finally get our first sight of the famous Santiago Cathedral.
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  • Mission Accomplished - In Santiago

    4 ottobre 2018, Spagna ⋅ 🌙 17 °C

    It is often hard to describe your feelings when you complete something that you have been planning for years. Although it is always a relief when everything goes according to the script, there is also a slight feeling of disappointment that it is all over.

    We awoke to yet another fine and clear morning, just like every previous morning on the Camino, apart from the very first day when we walked out of Roncesvalles. We have experienced so much together over the past two weeks, that the beginning of the walk already seems like a lifetime ago. We have laughed together, we have suffered together and we have certainly grown together as we worked our way across the north of Spain.

    After a short transfer to Lavacolla, we began the very last leg of our walk. As seems to always be the case, the walk began with a steep climb through forests and farmlands, before settling down to a more gentle walk. Each step of the way brought us closer to our goal and we could understand how emotional it must be for those who have walked the entire 800 km from the Pyrenees. We even met an 87 year old guy from New Zealand, who had not only walked the entire way, but had carried his full pack the entire way. That takes a special kind of commitment that made our struggles seem pretty trivial by comparison.

    All the while the signposts counted down the distances until we reached the "Mount of Joy".. It is as this location that you get your first glimpse of the Cathedral in the distance. Apparently the early pilgrims were so overcome with emotion that they shouted "My Joy, My Joy".

    From that location we soon entered the outskirts of Santiago and the cathedral was hidden from view until we turned the final corner. The throng of fellow pilgrims were all heading in the one direction so it would be impossible to lose your way at this stage.

    We passed a lone bagpipe player, went through a short tunnel and turned left to see the famous Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in front of us. We had arrived. Around us other pilgrims were hugging and laughing. Some lay on the ground, Others were busy taking selfies. We assembled ourselves to record the moment in a group photo. It seemed the appropriate thing to do.

    There was something else we had to do. Just before we departed Australia, two of our team had to withdraw from the adventure due to ill health. At the start of our Camino we collected a couple of stones to symbolically include them in our walk. All along the way I have carried these stones in my pocket to remind me that Paul and Jan are still sharing the way with us. From time to time I stopped to show them a particular place or view. I am not sure if they felt it way back in Melbourne, but it was a help to me when I missed their companionship.

    When we arrived at the Cathedral we all piled our symbols together in front of the entrance and took a picture. At that time our team consisted of 14 pilgrims, not 12.

    The only other thing I wanted to do was enter the Cathedral itself. By some sheer coincidence we had arrived right in the middle of a Mass. Although the door was closed, they were still letting in a small number of pilgrims. Douglas and I were lucky enough to gain entrance and stand with the throng at the rear of the congregation.

    There was one thing I was hoping to witness, but I knew that the chances were almost zero. From time to time the priests light a container of incense and swing it on the end of a rope from the ceiling. Although Carlos had lived in Santiago for many years, he had only witnessed this ceremony on one occasion.

    I could scarcely believe it when a female soloist started to sing and the priests prepared the incense. The timing was perfect. Soon it was swinging high over our heads, pulled by a group of about 6 priests all working in unison. The container slowly swung back and forth, each time getting higher and higher, until it almost reached the roof of the church. I had to admit that it really was a special moment, that will stay with me for many years.

    When the ceremony was over the congregation burst into applause, the doors were opened and we poured out into the bright sunlight outside. For one young girl backpacker the occasion did not have a happy ending. She had left her backpack outside the cathedral to go inside and it had obviously been stolen while she was inside. It was heartbreaking to see her distress and I could not help but feel angry that the gypsy woman that had been sitting in the doorway and taking money from people to "watch their bags" had done nothing to help. I even wondered if it had been part of a scam. It was such a shame that when you see examples of the very best of humanity, all too often you also see examples of the very worst.

    We checked into our hotel and were so relieved to take off our shoes and enjoy the showers. It will be wonderful not to have to don them again for a few days. Sandals will be my footwear of choice until we reach Portugal in a couple of days time.
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  • To the End of the Earth

    5 ottobre 2018, Spagna ⋅ 🌙 15 °C

    One quite amazing feature of our hotel in Santiago is that it features a “24 hour breakfast buffet”. I had never previously heard of this innovative idea, however it is actually quite simple. Instead of breakfast only being available between certain hours (eg 7.30 to 10.00 am), the buffet is available at any time of the day or night. This would even make it possible to save valuable time each morning, by having your breakfast before going to bed.

    After completing our walk to Santiago yesterday, it was a huge relief not to have to don my serious walking shoes and backpack once more. I was even able to leave my walking pole in my room. With sandals on my feet and nothing on my back it almost felt like flying.

    Our day began with a guided tour of the old city precinct with a local expert guide who introduced herself as Maria. She certainly was a huge reservoir of information and proceeded to teach us about the place at every opportunity. When she explained that confessions would be heard that morning in the cathedral “in seven languages”, I couldn’t help but wonder how people got on who were not able to speak seven languages. (Sometimes my mind just works that way).

    She also explained that the cathedral is being seriously damaged because, some years ago, much of the roof area was covered with concrete. Although this might have seemed like a bright idea at the time, it actually caused damage because the building was no longer able to breathe. Expensive restoration works are now underway to remove the concrete layer and replace it with something more akin to what was originally installed about 900 years earlier. Another example where the original builders really knew what they were doing after all.

    After a couple of hours of this serious touring, my brain reached memory overload and I was really glad that I could finally wander off by myself for a little respite. There were a couple of small matters that I wanted to attend to. The first of these was to receive my final stamp in my pilgrim passport. Douglas pointed me in the direction of the pilgrim office , so I went in the door with my passport in hand. The only trouble was that about 400 others had arrived before me and had formed a huge queue snaking throughout the building. It looked like a line of football supporters waiting for finals tickets.

    Since I did not want to spend all day waiting in a line, and since I was not interested in getting a piece of parchment paper, I invoked the well known “Plan B”. In another room there was a much shorter line to a man sitting at a cash register. In a very short time I reached the front and explained that all I wanted was a little stamp. He understood perfectly and dutifully proceeded to stamp front and back of my black book. It was all over.

    The other task I wanted to do was to spend more time inside the cathedral. We had spent so much time walking to the resting place of St James, that I thought I had better at least pay him my respects. At the entrance door I had to get past, not one, but two gypsy “beggars” who had almost succeeded in making entrance impossible without paying their own form of admission price. It really seemed a shame that this behaviour was allowed.

    Once inside I spent some time gazing at the ceiling and all the other adornments inside. I had to agree that the place really is huge. I could have spent a lot of time looking at all the minor chapels, statues and images, but I was looking for St James. When I saw a big queue I assumed that I must be on the right track. I joined the rear and slowly shuffled forward every few minutes. It was only when I got closer that I could see that the queue was not actually to see the crypt of St James, it was to hug the statue upstairs. Since I was not much interested in embracing a statue, I ducked out of the line of huggers and went downstairs to see St James instead.

    Once through the narrow doorway and down a few steps, I came to a grated opening where the silver casket of St James was situated maybe 4 metres away. On the floor there were numerous pieces of paper where pilgrims had left prayer requests or messages for the saint. I looked at the casket and wondered what (or who ) was really inside. The lid was firmly closed so the mystery will have to remain unanswered.

    With my two tasks thus completed, I felt that my mission here was finally over. There was, however, one other unfinished piece of business that I wanted to do on my final full day in Spain. I had not yet had a seafood paella. I found a nearby café that was willing to satisfy my curiosity and my hunger at the same time and I have to admit that it was fine eating.

    Although the prime objective for the Camino is to reach the Cathedral of Santiago, for many pilgrims there is a secondary objective as well. That is to continue walking until you can walk no more. That happens when you reach the Atlantic Coast at Finisterre. In Roman times this was regarded as the westernmost point of Europe and the name Finisterre literally means “End of the Earth”. That was where the maps finished and where the unknown began. It was Christopher Columbus who famously sailed into this unknown to discover the new worlds beyond.

    For a pilgrim to walk from Santiago to Finisterre it usually takes an additional 5 days of walking. For us it took a leisurely 90 minutes by bus. The rolling green hills along the way were liberally covered with eucalypts and pines and it made me feel like we could have been driving through parts of Victoria.

    Cape Finisterre is a beautiful spot, surrounded by steep cliffs dropping down to the ocean over 100 metres below. The late afternoon was warm, the sky cloudless and the air still. I sat on a rocky point and gazed out at the endless ocean and imagined how the ancients could really feel that this was the end of the world. I also took the time to think back over some of the events of the past three weeks. We had shared so much together in that time. Much of our walking time had been spent talking to fellow pilgrims and, for a brief time in our lives, everything was so simple – just keep walking westwards. And now we were here. This marked the end of chapter one of our adventure. Tomorrow morning most will be travelling to Portugal and the two Christines will be leaving to continue their own adventure.

    There was a tradition among pilgrims to burn all their old clothes when they reached the ocean. Presumably they would then start afresh and the rest of their lives would begin. Although the authorities are trying to stop this tradition (this is a high fire danger area after all), we noticed that pilgrims had left a number of items behind – boots, socks, walking poles, etc. Some of these had been tucked into the rocks.

    Then it was finally time to return to the bus for the very last time with Raoul. We were headed back to Santiago for our final night in Spain.

    After dinner some of us went for a walk back to the Cathedral. There were still hundreds of people there and we were attracted by the sounds of some nearby music. It turned out to be a group of colourfully dressed musicians who were playing a wide variety of stringed instruments and singing well known Spanish songs. Throngs of happy students were singing and clapping to the music. You would have had to have a stony heart not to feel touched.

    Somehow it felt like the perfect way to finish an amazing trip.

    Buen Camino indeed.
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  • South to Porto

    6 ottobre 2018, Portogallo ⋅ ⛅ 15 °C

    Over a year ago, when I was planning this trip, there was always one important variable in my mind. It was the one element that we have very little control over. Most of our previous European adventures had been scheduled to start in late August or early September. No one wants to travel in Europe in the hottest and busiest months of July and August, if they can possibly avoid it. I was also aware that Spain and Portugal can be even hotter than the rest of Europe. For that reason I decided to start the trip a couple of weeks later than usual, knowing full well that the final result was still a lottery.

    You could imagine my relief when we were able to complete the entire Camino walk without any rain (apart from a gentle early drizzle on the very first day). In fact every day was almost a carbon copy of the previous day - cool in the morning and the warm and sunny every afternoon.

    Following our visit to Finisterre, our mission in Spain was done and it was time to move on to the next chapter. We began our final day in Spain by saying goodbye to the two Christines (aka C1 & C2). The remaining ten of us would be catching a bus down to Porto in Portugal.

    The taxi van we had ordered the previous evening turned up a few minutes ahead of time. We were a little apprehensive whether all of our luggage would be able to fit in, but we needn't have worried. It is really amazing just how many bags you can fit in a small space when you resort to sheer brute force. You have to just ignore the possible collateral damage that might be happening to your fragile contents.

    A few minutes later we had arrived at the big bus depot and struggled to find out exactly where to catch the bus. We were not alone. Dozens of other multinationals were also wandering around in a state of confusion trying to sort out the vague directions. The bus we were waiting for arrived promptly on time at 11.15 am (it was due at 11.00 am) and we climbed inside.

    To our initial relief there were many empty seats, suggesting that the 5 hour ride could be more bearable than we thought. It wasn't. After a few stops all the remaining seats were taken and I was reminded afresh why I would NEVER go on one of those terrible bus tours.

    If the bus ride was not bad enough it got even worse when we pulled into one of those huge roadside stops. You know the drill. The women all rush to the toilets, while the men line up for potato chips and drinks. The smokers make their way to form a guard of honour outside every doorway. It really is horrible. How some people put up with day after day of this torture I will never know.

    It was also worth noting that something strange was happening outside. Heavy rain was falling and the temperature had dropped a few degrees. What perfect timing.

    Somehow I endured the 5 hour trip, only sometimes losing all feeling in my left leg. It really was worse than the 14 hour plane trip from Melbourne to Dubai. It was a huge relief when the bus finally pulled into the depot in Porto and we were able to stagger out into the fresh air again.

    Our home for the next two nights is the Porto Domus Hotel, situated in one of the highest parts of the city. The hotel was surprisingly good, although I had some initial trouble getting the Internet to connect. I then took the opportunity to walk through the centre of town down to the waterfront.

    Porto certainly is a fascinating city and its buildings contain a riot of colour and patterns that reminded me a little of the famous La Boca district of Buenos Aires. It was easy enough to find my way down to the water as all I had to do was keep going downhill. Along the way I passed through a number of pedestrian shopping malls and numerous buskers. One of the more interesting ones was a colourful women playing a hand organ, complete with pet chicken. She seemed to be doing a good trade.

    At the waterfront I watched the jet ski riders intent on killing themselves and simultaneously deafening everyone within a 2 km radius. A number of larger tourist boats sailed back and forth, while overhead there was a cable car leading to a large Ferris wheel. It was obviously all happening on this Saturday afternoon in Porto. It was also an unusual feeling being in a country where I did not speak a single word of the language. Although my Spanish is not so good, at least I could usually muster enough vocabulary to make myself understood. Here I felt a little like an intruder into a foreign world and Spain quickly felt like a long way away.

    So what did I do ? I sat at an elevated restaurant and enjoyed a seafood pasta while I watched the action that was taking place on the water. It seemed like a perfect way to start a new adventure in a country that I had never visited before.
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  • Porto - the Party City of Portugal

    7 ottobre 2018, Portogallo ⋅ ☀️ 19 °C

    It seems that every country has a city that offers the visitor about 50 different ways to kill themselves. I didn’t have to be in Porto for long before realising that Porto is obviously the thrill seekers' favourite Portuguese city. Whether it’s jet skiing, jet boating, motorcycling, Segway riding or a few dozen others, you are never far away from the roar of some kind of engine. In New Zealand the place for action is Queenstown, in Portugal it’s Porto.

    The city itself is certainly a fascinating mix of contrasts. From affluent shopping centres to derelict and abandoned houses, from well dressed young shoppers to filthy beggars sitting by the roadside asking for a handout. With its hilly location on both banks of the Douro River it really has geography working in its favour. The river itself is spanned by several towering bridges, the most impressive of which is the huge Dom Luis I Bridge.

    This huge metal structure was designed by Gustave Eiffel (yes the tower guy) and was completed around 1890. At the time its 172 m span was the greatest in the world. The upper path is now only for pedestrians and trams and, at 85 metres above the water, it offers an amazing view down to the city.

    You might have thought that the walking part of our trip would have been completed by now. If you though that you would have been wrong. According to my GPS I walked over 12 km before I sat down for lunch. I had also made life a little harder for myself by climbing the staircase to Mr Eiffel’s bridge, rather than ride in the funicular railway up the hillside.

    After wandering back and forth across the bridge I started to make my way back towards the hotel. I had not walked long before I was tapped on the shoulder. When I turned around there was a young gypsy girl with a clipboard in her hand. It was evident that the famous petition scam was alive and well in Porto. I told her that I was not interested (actually I might have told her to clear off if I am entirely honest).

    Since I had nothing better to do with my time I decided to follow her for a little while and watch her at work. To my dismay many tourists were not aware of how the sting works and bent down to sign the bogus bit of paper. I was even more alarmed when some handed over money when the inevitable sting kicked into action. At least she never got the opportunity to pick anyone’s pocket while I was watching.

    I was also greatly relieved that yesterday’s rain has now passed completely. The air is now clear and the temperature is now much milder. The low humidity also helps greatly when you are working hard exploring a city.

    Our hotel is not very far from the main shopping precinct. When I first walked down the main street yesterday, I was a little unsure of where all the smoke was coming from. I soon discovered it was from many vendors roasting chestnuts on the street corners. It is apparently a popular snack at this time of the year. There are also copious clouds of smoke billowing forth from the numerous smokers. As in most European countries, the anti smoking message has made little impact on the smoking habits of the population. Just as upsetting is the casual way that they blithely toss their used butts on the footpath, even when there is a bin within arm’s length.

    We have one more evening in this fascinating town before catching the Lisbon train tomorrow morning. I am so glad it is NOT another bus ride.
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  • Some More Postcards from Porto

    7 ottobre 2018, Portogallo ⋅ ☀️ 18 °C

    Since I can only include 10 pictures with each footprint, I decided that Porto needed another page, just so I can include some more pictures.

  • Douglas Dices with Disaster

    8 ottobre 2018, Portogallo ⋅ 🌙 17 °C

    Our two days in Porto came to an end all too quickly. We had developed an affinity for the place and would have loved to have spent a little more time enjoying all that it had to offer.

    We had arranged to be collected by taxi at 10.30 for the short drive to the Porto Campanha Train Station. Allan and I were ready early and decided to go for a short final walk to fill in some time. When we found a small coffee shop it seemed like an appropriate place to grab a coffee before the long train ride to Lisbon.

    "Did you realise that no one has lost anything so far on this trip ?", I asked Allan. Even the two small batteries and fitness bracelet that had gone missing in my luggage had somehow reappeared a couple of days ago. When you are changing hotels so regularly it is very easy to misplace small items such as plugs and chargers. But so far we had not lost a thing. Well done us.

    We managed to find and board the train without mishap and soon we were smoothly and silently gliding towards Lisbon at over 200 kph. Although it was not as fast as the 300 kph Grand Vitesse trains of France, it was a far cry from the 80 kph shaking and lurching rattletraps that we call trains in Australia. I wondered why we are so incapable of building this type of train at home.

    The kilometres quickly ticked by and I couldn't help but be glad that it was so much more comfortable than the 5 hour bus trip we had endured two days earlier. We were even served food and drinks by two stewards. The country that flashed by was green and picturesque and the sky had once again reverted to a cloudless blue.

    The train first stopped on the outskirts of Lisbon and a number of passengers got off. I checked the GPS and it told me that we were still 7 km from our hotel, so I assumed that we had not reached the final stop yet. About 5 km further on the train reached the end of the line and our journey was over.

    Douglas and I had been seated in carriage number one, while another 5 members of our group had been seated further back in the train. After Douglas and I managed to exit the train station there was no sign of the other 5 passengers. It became obvious that they had mistakenly jumped off at the earlier station. At least they knew the name of the hotel, so we knew they would be OK.

    Douglas and I climbed into a waiting taxi and made the short trip to our hotel, right in the centre of Lisbon. Just as our taxi pulled up, we were joined by the others who arrived in a couple of other taxis. We all walked the short distance to our hotel, congratulating ourselves on how smoothly the arrangements had gone.

    It was only when we reached the hotel foyer that Douglas's face went white. He had just realised that he had left his backpack on the back seat of the taxi. He immediately ran back to where we had been dropped, but the taxi had disappeared into the Lisbon traffic with his backpack inside. We had no idea of which taxi we had just been in. The only thing we knew was that the driver spoke good English.

    It had only been a few hours earlier that I had been gloating that on one had lost anything on the trip and now Douglas had seemingly lost his entire backpack and contents.

    The only thing we could think of was to ask the hotel for help in tracking down the taxi, but we knew it would be areal "needle in a haystack" search. Douglas decided to try once more and disappeared back up the street. A few minutes later he reappeared with a smile on his face and a backpack in his hand. Apparently the driver had seen the backpack and had come back looking for him. It really was a miracle that could restore our faith in human nature.

    With our items missing tally thus restored to zero, we all checked in to the hotel and then spent the rest of the afternoon exploring Lisbon. My initial impressions were very positive and the reasonably priced lunch I enjoyed at 4.30 pm was excellent.

    Later I met Mary and Pam outside the hotel and we were all able to catch up on the events of the past few days. They are the final two group members to arrive from Melbourne and it was good to see that they had already checked into the hotel the previous afternoon.

    It had been a long and eventful day and I was ready for bed.
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