Day 18, Day 19 Burgos, Rabe, Hornillos

We had a great night in Burgos and then headed out along the busy road through Tardajos and continued on to Rabe. A superb town with Wifi in the main street, and a great cafe, an important stop before heading off through the meseta again to Hornillos.  Its a great walk, described in some places as desolate but peaceful trails away from the roads work for me.  The next day we left Hornillos and walked to Castrojeriz, stopping for breakfast at Hontanas. That was a long stretch, the albergue at San Bol offered a breakfast but funny how 200m off piste looks so far. Silly really when you walk 4000m to the next cafe! We were spoilt for choice when we arrived at Hontanas. There were three cafes and the obligatory shop and fountain on the way out of town. Its only a few steps after the last cafe but as usual when its a long stretch to breakfast you eat , drink and make merry.

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Sarria to Portomarin day 28

The night night juice was put on the bar, our room was superb and when we woke up, our view was spectacular, yes, the biggest crane Sarria had to offer. The night before we’d wandered around town and found a great stretch by the river with bars and cafes all giving the obligatory bucketful of tapas with every one euro drink, but we went back to see our pal at the Pension as he agreed to do a get well soon message for Stuart McIntosh. Not only that but his tapas was superb, Harry had three bits of Lomo while I tried a different thing each time, if ever a town begged you to drink and eat all night it was Sarria. I ordered breakfast and as the pictures show, my first attempt at cafe con leche was a bit small, Harry ordered another, that’s much more like it! Leaving Sarria was a long haul, as we’d stopped at the beginning of town so after 20 minutes we stopped at the end of town and had some more water and coffee took some pictures and then walked further up the hill before then walking down a really steep hill, swinging back around to the right and as the crow flies we could’ve saved ourselves the climb and just gone around the side in 10 minutes, but that’s not the way of the camino and we like going the long way whenever we see a short cut. On this ocassion we were also blessed with good toilets but if you are wanting to save 15 minutes and a bit of pressure on the knees here’s a tip, dont go up the hill veer around it to the right and you will come across the camino after 10 minutes. You’ll know you’re close when you see the railway track. The camino follows the railway once you’ve done the detour to the highest point, looked at the church and ‘deviation’ . You go downhill swing back right on yourself, East, walk through the woods, North, until you hit the railway then you just follow it West. We were very lucky a train arrived 100m before we were due to cross the tracks. I wouldn’t like to have been halfway when the train went by, its a big old unit and was fair shifting, unlike myself, as I dragged my leg slowly across the tracks. Once over the other side you’re exposed to the sun, but not for long as its back into a fine forest climb. Superb it is. Lots of very old trees, a bit tumbly under foot!

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Barbadelo seemed a lot further away than my leg expected. After the climb up through the woods there’s no cover for an hour or so. Harry was miles ahead as I dodged along in my wee dwam (that’s a bit of a doddering daydream), only to be disturbed from it by some cows walking the camino towards me. Normally I’d be running scared but my leg was so sore I was happy to push my way through the beasts as if I was some country dude, even the habitual large farmers dog didn’t cause me to blink. Up ahead Harry had met up with Sara again as well as Yoshi and some Brazilians. I stopped for a moment, but the leg was saying keep moving so we ignored the Casa and walked on. Up ahead was Carlos the hippy from Asturga who we’d met yesterday. He was doing the walk from the south and it merged near Sarria with ours. He’d brought his own dog and was charming some other geezers and an older woman, he’s a natural, but Harry was now in need of some serious comfort so ran past them to the Albergue. I kept going at 1.5km per hour, full in the knowledge that he’d soon catch up. There was a good looking bar but I thought its only 6km in, we really need to keep going a bit longer. Longer it was through the forest, another lovely shady spot but my leg gave way again. I swapped over to the sandals and applied some more volterol. I kept going until I figured we’d walked about 10km. An ice cream stop at the cafe seemed perfect. Harry duly appeared with his tale of woe. The Albergue had been shut and he had to go to the Casa del Carmen just off the camino, I’m sure it was the one we stopped at as the sun was telling me we just did a 180 degree loop, one for google earth, another day. There are cafes all over this section of the route and on another day I’d stop at them all. We met some Dubliners who had just joined the camino at Sarria. They were on the 7 day special and had backpacks to prove it! While Terry was striding out while his mate (Finter?) was struggling at the back with a water system that kept jumping out his pack and onto the camino. Up the crazy paving we went then down into another cafe with cemetery. They like a cemetery here and this one was bigger than the village, huge houses for the dead, but we walked on, I figured we were getting close so we stopped eventually at Mercadiaro, which I thought would be 40 minutes away as we could now more or less see Portomarin. An excellent stop it was too, Tinto de Virano all round and a bit of Tortilla to soak it up. Sadly another detour took us miles off the line and as my ankle complained Terry and I walked like demented mad men and got into Portomarin for 4pm, a lot longer a day than we’d expected, but a brilliant walk, the scenery was superb most of the way and only a bit of vertigo going over the bridge and a dodgy leg andankle wasn’t going to get in the way of the fun. The other two rolled in 15 minutes later and the drinking began again. On http://www.fatal-bananas.blogspot.com is a video of our Father Ted time when we completely lost it during a filming, a superb evening. We never saw the guys again – we figure they would’ve been well ahead with their fresh legs, they’d have made it to Palas de Rei, while we stopped in Airexe.

We’re off again – Well Dancin Al is

September 16th friday night party at Prestonfield in Edinburgh , all welcome just give me notice and I’ll give you a ticket, and the schedule after that is simple.

Leave Monday 19th and arrive St Jean Pied du Porte

Arrive Logrono Sept 28th and easy short walk to Navarette 29th

Burgos October 5th so if you fly to Madrid get the train, I’ll meet you at the station and if you want to join me for a stretch of the way – you’ll be welcome. Or you might’ve joined me at Logrono and the walk to Burgos is like a mini camino but avoiding the major hills

Leon October 14th

O’Cebriero 20th

Santiago de Compostela 24th October

and then major thanks to all our sponsors and back to get up to St Andrews for Jim’s 50th and the Deadbeat, Life Support 25th or is it 30th , Anniversary party

On the road to Santiago de Compostela – Day 27

Its clear we were starting to lose it – but it still makes me chuckle – the best pub crawl diet I’ve ever done – 500 miles in 31 days – and you still lose weight

We march on Pontomarin

7 10 2007

“Arouse the troops Mad Dog, we march on Pontomarin for lunch, and after we take the bridge, we shall sally forth to Ventas our wrath” called out Komindant Kettles as he wiped the sleep from his chin

“But Sire, the men are tired and wounded should we not bed down for one more night, get a bus, a taxi, and pardon me my liege, my name’s Howling Mad Murdoch”

“Howl like a wolf, Bark if you like Mad Dog, we march in 10 minutes” Kettles replied

“Yes Sire”

7.47am

“Sire, we’re like Sherpa and Tensing the two of us, mad devils following the yellow arrows across France and Spain” Howling Mad Murdoch began

“I think you’ll find it was Sherpa Tensing and Edmund ‘my cousin’ Hilary Benn. They climbed hills you fool and didn’t dance around the countryside following yellow arrows” replied the komandant curtly.

“Yes, that’s right he was Aussie, they did very well against England, they got 10 points. Do you know who they play in the Semi Finals” continued Mad Dog Murdoch

“He was a kiwi you idiot and Australia lost to England 12-10″ retorted the kapitan

“Ah, yes, Kiwi, they make great fruit. They’re the favourites aren’t they”

“No, you buffoon, they got knocked out too, as I should’ve done to you last night. Fat lot of use watching the TV did you. No special treats tonight for you Mad Malagan.

“Ah yes, Scotland are favourites now”

“Just march Mad Mulagatawny or I’ll turn you into soup”

“But I walked all the way to Swany’s yesterday and I want a buggy if we’re golfing at this Ventas place…………….

*The komindant and his assistant are purely fictitious characters. Any similarity to Characters real or imaginary are merely a typo.

St Jean Pied du Porte

We made it up the stairs before our first lapse of concentration.

I was first – I put the rucsac in the box for the scanner – it tilted sideways and the handy 72 different buckles caught in the xray machine and jammed the blighter. This then involved 9 security people advising how best to approach it. Where’s John Smeaton when you need him.

Si then decided to omit all the toiletries advice and offers of poly bags. Something must’ve registered as he took out his suntan cream – I guesd it was an offering – and placed it with his phone and assorted trinkets.

“Who does this sunscreen cream belong to?” Bellowed our man whose day was destined to be hell and was only 15 minutes old.

“Just bin it” cried Si as the offering was duly sacrificed.

“Hoi, are you the rucsac with the toiletries? Toothpaste shower gel shampoo mouthwash and assorted foot creams” sighed mister day from hell and its only 16 minutes old.

“Duh, yup” said Homer Si

“Sod it just go on”, whaurs smeato when you need him, he thought.  It’d be handy if he could fly in and banjo a few of these clowns that are spoiling my day.

“Look” says si pointing at a big sign, “we can buy liquids here to take on the plane”.

“Aye and bin them at Stansted!”

“Aye, a fair point. Go through three tubs of the stuff and we’ve no even left the great UK port”

===

Alors – nous sommes en France.

Biarritz ya dancer.

Please don’t snigger – these hills are looking bigger!

I’ve finished chapter 4 in my head of 1000 reasons why I love smoking.

You see, people grump more when they don’t have a fag to take away the strain – and today – on the plane – how topical – as we get ourselves into position for the starting gate and our a penny a step for the children’s charity – there’s parents abusing their children on the plane.

Give the kid a dummy – I’m watching my ears pop – I’m watching the water bottle contract – I’m thinking this is the pressure building in the kids head – SCREEEEEEAAAMMMMMMMMM! – that’s better a full 12 minutes until we bump land the bus.

Parents eh? Who’d be one. Well we have good news and bad news on the trek front. The Bayonne train leaves at 9pm and its currently 3pm

Do we

A. Get pissed and miss it
B. Bump into fellow pilgrims and get a taxi

Or

C. Walk it and see how long it takes to get lost in SW France!

Its France – we’ve got loads of time!

===

And now we’ve arrived at St Jean – we’ve just taken another look and already Simon is starting to agree with the Irish women Aileen who’s going to walk to hunto tonight so its 2 hours less tomorrow,

“Oh so why not when I said it last july!”

Let the battles continue – fair play though he climbed the hill and found the shop that gave us the guide and passport (credencial) and also sells b and b for 7 euro.

Now all we need is to find a shop selling suncream!

The problem is, we’re sitting in the shade, with our credencial which gives you discount at the restaurants on tour and already wondering if they hire golf buggies!

Good news is we’ve got a bed and the clothes are still clean!

Cheers from Simon and Al

Meals the verdict!

You have to go back three pages of posts (click previous entries at the bottom of the page) to find the candidates for the top meals on the camino – this is what we wrote back then..

“Tonight in Villamangos we gave it a major thumbs up.
Los Arcos clutches its gold

But Silver and bronze is still being fought out by

Mansilla de las Mulas 6.8 euro
Atapuerca
Sahagun 57 euro in hostal – Si’s was good
Templairos
Navarette
Carrion de los Condes
Villamangos

Made the semi-final

Hontanas
Fromista
Roncesvalles
Puente la Reina
Estrella
Removed from the Roster

Never made the qualifying standard

Redecilla – the worst by a stretch
Zubiri – I was taught how to eat it was that chewy!

Too much fun to eat

Pamplona
Logrono
Burgos
Leon”

So what’s new since then. We had to classify;

Astorga, a la carte, bad choice of fish which had been cooked in vinegar, not good 35 euro too

Foncebadon (top wine), a local vintage of which the hopitalero was very proud, the food was good too and we gave it a silver.

Ponferrrade, we did tapas but the horsemen told us it was commended!

Trabadelo, too tired to taste the wine meant an alcohol free day and an impatience to get the bill and off to bed  meant we forgot what we ate. Truth is we ate it. 18 euro was the bill so semi final.

O’Cebriero, Si and the large white bait, commonly know as small trout. We liked this but the wine was as bad, as the trabedelo had smelt. Same price, same medal for the wine, but the food was good, so all in a semi finalist.

Triacastela, two choices here as we stoked the fires for the future. We might have chosen the wrong starter as the locals had the patatas and veg which was called something else, not the juedas verdes we were used to. Brilliant meal though so definitely in the final. That was lunch, dinner was equally good although the slab of meat was the same size as my boots and was a major test for the new eating habits I’d been learning.

Sarria, this was a lunch. It was excellent and we were going back for the same again at tea time but this time the rugby wasn’t  on so they lost a star. The service at lunchtime was superb again. As usual in Spain there is one person waiting on 40 tables and somehow managing to get all the drinks and orders correctly. She was fantastic and we gave her a big tip, get an assistant, so Simon helped her all afternoon! This is a finalist for the whole atmosphere, very like Palas de Rei.

Portomarin, again a lunch, a 1 1/2 hour extragavanza in the middle of our longest walking day, some 48 kilometres by the time we reached Palas de rei. It was fantastic. I’d gone for Soup starter which was served in the usual fashion. “Here’s a big terrine with a ladel, help yourself.”  I got 5 bowls as Simon watched me dig in for the last 4 waiting for the moment when I would normally say – “want the rest?”, except I didn’t. The Lomo followed as did the pudding and a wee coffee. This was up there for sustenance, service and quality. We didn’t have the wine as we were walking so cant recommend the drink, but the water was good and the price was the usual. Under 20 euro including the kerry oot of water.

Palas de Rei was the hunt for Red October. We had the red mist descending on our red faces from the overlong walk and waited from 8.15 – 8.20 at a restaurant while the world seemed to want a table and there were none. We left in search of another place and went down to the Albergue where a small restaurant was attached. Again a wait but not so long. We took a table that had just been vacated and within 5 minutes our order had been taken, drink had arrived and our order had been re-ordered as the chef had earlier seen a run on the pork. Francois had told us, its a good sign when places run out, it means they dont have 5 week meat in the bottom drawer to sell you, important if your stomach is like Al’s not Si’s. The food was great, so was the drink, the company was good too considering this was the start of where we encountered the english language at every  turn.

Arzua another finalist. This was possibly the best food since Los Arcos. We lapped it up and put it in the final. The hostal in the centre of town just where the road splits to go downhill. Well worth stopping at.

Finally Santiago de Compostela. Its a bit of a cheat as Santiago has many attempts at it. Well, as it transpires, I wouldn’t go back there for the food. Tapas the first night was ok but very expensive. The second night Simon had a fantastic plate of chops for 18euro and a plate of Calimari for 12 euro while I had the set meal which was, well, not so good. Spend enough cash the foods great, but not a finalist for me.

So the Verdict

Los Arcos wins the rosette

Navarette

Portomarin joint with Arzua

Day 30. Early morning Al enjoying the countryside!

What a difference a day makes

24 little hours – one minute it’s – Kool and the Gang singing “Celebrate” then it slid into “Candyskin” by the Fire Engines and before I know it “I’m all lost in the Supermarket” and then Kool and the Gang are back on.

I suppose it should be “Tantalise” by those one hit wonders from 1983 that escape me. A great summer song to bounce up and down the hills to.

Yes – we could’ve walked further yesterday, especially as hindsight proved that it took us only just under 2 hours this morning. So we lost a wee bit ground yesterday instead of gaining it.

Today we arrived in Sarria thinking well, we could walk on to catch up the lost 5km and make it a bit less tomorrow but we figured last night that it was an easy thursday or a hard wednesday in Santiago so we found a place, got a wash, got a meal, watched the cabbages put one past another of the wise guys from the west.

Ibrox hasn’t been a happy hunting ground until Ivan was given the keys a few games back. We also watched England crucify the Aussies, or at least the Afrikanner next to us did! Then we did siesta for a moment and then supermarket to stock up on Sunday’s breakfast and then prepare for bed.

In fact a dull old day! They’re getting longer the days and its quite a shift trying to move bones that are fatigued and brains that are frazzled by the restrictive circumstances of one bag contains all. They talk about the hardest part in a marathon being those lost miles between 20 and 23 when your still a long way from the finish. Its like that with us, 400+ miles and probably only 70 to go, but it just feels like miles!

Light relief in the form of a result from home can put that spring back where all have sprung before them. The begging bowl has been good and we’re both chuffed to bits that CHAS have done so well. Your donations have really boosted us, sorry energised us. We saw a plaque today from when Bob Geldof did the Camino, he said, apparently, that the hardest miles were the ones in front of you – profound or what. What I want to know is how did he know this if he hadn’t walked them.

We’ll try and put a big shift in tomorrow and get down to Ventas. If we only make Pontmarin, then we’ll be thursday for sure, flying back friday to do Meze 6.30pm and then TSB – if Niall lays on some Tapas we’ll skip the Meze!

Buenos Noches mis amigos

PS – we’ll be the ones smelling sorry sleeping in the corner.

Day 25. Scenic view from O Cebreiro. Yes we did climb those hills!

O’Cebriero

I thought “Vienna” would’ve been a bit oblique as a title so I’ve gone for the town.

I’ve been itching to get here as its a place I’d read about a while back.

I’d written a bad story with a Bakhtinian Carnivalesque in my head about creating lots of voices in the story.

So to start, I’d made the story about a writer from Dunkeld – funnily enough as its Si’s gaff- called Josephine Archer which I abbreviated to Jose as we do in Scotland – although they also did it to Mourinho later on!

So Jose upped sticks and moved to a Celtic settlement in NW Spain – Galicia – where she wrote her story, the Egg Hatcher.

This was a far fetched tale about a girl who farmed future stars. Instead of a kiss’n’tell one day wonder headline she produced the goods in the shape of a child a few years down the line if the 17 year starlet ever did anything successful. All the time keeping a large number of frozen embryos carefully labelled with the one night maestros name attached.

After a short period of time she had a ‘mystical’ conversion into helping childless couples with the millions she’d made in palimony. Well she did after all run one of the largest baby farms in Europe by this stage.

It was as I say very far fetched but the concept had more to do with the voices the author Jose was trying to deal with as she wrote the story.

Lost – yes – I was too, so I put the pen down and continued walking!

That’s when I say it again – Johnny Walker – keep walking! – then I saw the plaque – the day Diageo did the Camino!

Day 16. A new slimline Al strides into town

Class is permanent – Burgos Cathedral

It’ll be no. 1 in the all time churches league.

No doubting it.

Si and I have taken 4 pictures but it won’t do it justice.

We arrived at 11.30 having hoofed it up the road. We eventually crossed town to a hotel by 12.20 whereupon we luckily got a room – such is the way of the camino and we look onto the Cathedral entrance.

We’ll try and post a picture although a link to burgos cathedral would make more sense so here it is.

Whc.unesco.org – actually just google it – it’ll be easier – but it is a world heritage site for a reason.

As well as numero uno for cathedrals – its also tip top tippity top top prices for the saturday afternoon swally.

Normally we hand over 5 euro and get change or at least 2 pints – here in the Plaza Mayor its 2.40 a half. I’m trying to get my picture next to Carlos III’s statue but there’s tourists everywhere. The things us Peregrinos have to endure.

We’ve been sat here nursing our half pint to get at least an hours worth of value from our chairs – but I’m absolutely gagging on a drink.

I’m sporting my new Atapuerca man t-shirt which I had to buy because the thunderstorm last night interrupted my drying tango and black t-shirts. Luckily I brought enough other things although small disaster.

I was washing my socks yesterday – as you do – and I noticed I’m wearing them awfy thin, and that’s the thick ones. First Si’s boots, now my socks, is this journey going to destroy all our world goods?

Tune in next week and find out.

Day 2 – the mountains

Ouch they told us we´d never do it – they should´ve been right. We climbed 1100m – like the hair and the tortoise we dove tailed well although when Dancin Al´s legs were going the Eagle turned its attention away from the sheep.

In all seriousness we were lucky. It was overcast and we climbed from 7am – noon with a 5 minute break every hour – each time we stopped the mist lifted 100m and meant that we could see where we were going for the next hour but not more.. If we´d seen the whole gig all bets were off and the lardy asses would be coming home tamed by the 1410m col de lepoeder.

No messing these hills were hard – but just as the sun burst through we started our descent – by the way – dodgy knees in Dancin Al held us up – the downhills were always questionable and the sheer descent from the 1400m to 1000m over 4km is pretty 1 in 10, with 1 in 3 in places.

We were offered the sheer descent over 3.5km or the wimps one – lardy asses decided to bank what they had!

We got into the 120 bed dorm at 4.30pm – man o man is it stinking now and its only 9pm and we´re thinking lucky we´re knacked!

Nowt like the mountains the views – especially with the swirling mist and low cloud – superb!