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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Triacastela to Sarria day 27

As we were coming down into Triacastela this cafe shouted out, have a tinto de virano, so I duly did. It wasn’t as difficult coming down the hill into Triacastela as I remembered, in fact it was fine. The Triacastela Town Trier was still trying to flog walking sticks on the edge of town but we dodged past and walked right to the end of Triacastela. An excellent night’s sleep in the superb Casa David had me up early for a change. With the washing done yesterday and the stretching done, I followed Harry to breakfast. Or at least I thought I had, the big Ginger was still sleeping at 8am!! Another first on the camino. When you leave Triacastela you have the option to go up over San Xil or around the road to San Cristobo throught the woods to Renche and then to Samos. We took the latter. As we left town the boys were harvesting some trees on the edge of town, this watching Harry bang his head on suitably low signposts and the odd cave were less than interesting but after an hour you turn off down to San Cristobo and the walk is superb. Through the woods you go and then you arrive at Renche where the master rooftiler is as creative as they come. They like slate here and they use it well. They also like their cemeteries. As you approach Samos the graffitti artists have adorned the underpass to prove its not just the ancient monastery at Samos that makes you come this way, there’s some modern thinking too. Tractors tried to slow us down going into town but we wouldn’t be blocked and as the sun lit the hazy path we arrived at our pitstop. There was a big crowd at the cafe with many staying in Samos today, Polly and Bruce from Oz, Sheila from England, via the Limousin, Helene and Janice from Ottowa while Bernadette and Andre were going our direction but on the road. Good thing I ate and drank loads as there isnt a stop for 3 hours after Samos. Last time Si and I ended up on the road and it was loud and at times scary as you tire. Harry and I were always going the back roads and we had a great walk but it is longer.

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As you leave Samos you follow the road for 500m before crossing it up to the right. You then rise and fall with the yellow arrows through woodland, along very quiet back roads and its beautiful. Your biggest danger however is the conkers. They drop from the trees at this time of year and as you walk along the silent roads and trails the only disturbing sound is a rustle of leaves, then a smack, as another one hits the deck. You keep walking at times getting a bit nervous as the sun is on the wrong side and you know you’re heading east not west, but eventually you reach a juice machine, unfortunately its not working! On and on you walk and when a car finally passes you at 2.30pm you know the siesta is soon. I sent Harry a text and sure enough the car duly passed him. Its always good to know you’re only 15 minutes behind. At long last, a cafe, and we meet Carlos from Asturia and then  Maria Jose, our Uruguyan, whose boyfriend is in Scotland at the moment. As usual, after such a long wait for a cafe, the Albergue duly follows, 500m later. Its got juice machines so we fill up again and walk into town singing anything with California in it and replacing it with Caledonia. Its been a long day again for anyone walking near us and poor old Helene  has just caught up with Harry. We walk past the first two pensions and then stop at the third. 25 euros gets us a single each with a shared shower and toilet between the two rooms. No snoring, works for both of us! Back down to the bar and guess who rolls into town, take a bow Declan from Dublin. I look down at my ankles and its clear my right one needs a rest but its tough. If I wear the boots, its protected but my leg goes, if I wear the sandals the ankle swells, and looks like the big Iberian hams hanging in the shop, hmmn. Later on I try to take a picture of all these birds flying by, but all I get is another crane!

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

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”

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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!

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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

Day 30. Early morning Al enjoying the countryside!

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

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!