This the 2011 Camino – a section of the Del Norte from Luarca
It was to be seven years between my first Camino from Sarria on the CaminoFrances in 2004 and the Camino del Norte 2011. The Sarria Camino was undertaken for a charity – the Alton Castle Youth Centre. This Camino “proper”was undertaken as a result of persuasion by my friend Mac.
This description of the del Norte will be faithfully transcribed from my little spiral notebook, purchased in a Chinese bazaar in Aviles. And why now? Well, I have time on my hands for a number of reasons, wet weather being one. I have put off writing up this Blog for years because of the perceived difficulty of transferring the photos and matching them to the account… no more prevarication.
It was to be a small group and all I knew was that the “Leader” was Rev. Colin Jones, President of the Confraternity of St James, with his right hand man Dave Jones, former owner of “The Sutton Runner”. No relation by the way.
[ Little did I know at the time that this was to be the beginning of an enduring love affair with the Camino ]
The journey was relatively painless ,initially. A flight to Asturias airport and the transfer by bus to Luarca, the starting point of our walk, but not the beginning of the Camino del Norte. However,the times of buses did not comply with the leader’s notes and so two taxis were called to take us to Aviles, from where we were to travel by bus to Luarca. By this time, the party was made up four men and three women. There was still time to kill, so we decamped to the Placa d’Espagne, archetypal with its arcades and families chatting whilst children were scattered about happily playing. The bus didn’t leave for Luarca till 21.00 and so a Spanish style fast food dinner was had at the bus station, chorizo, egg and chips. It was a long, tiring day and at times I felt myself getting impatient with the group…This was not to be an exception!
I had enough time to have look around Luarca as it grew dark, lovely little fishing port and a beach, but being September, it had a post-holiday feel about it.
I ought to point out that Mac had recently been suffering from kidney stones problems and was advised to be extra careful to take on board plenty of liquids. This was to cause us some concern at the outset of the pilgrimage.
Before the first day’s walk began, a cheerful English lady approached us in the square. Renee was her name and she joined our group, just like that! She was a recently widowed, Anglican vicar from Wiltshire and was walking the camino for two reasons. First to raise some funds for her village school, via sponsorship, but more importantly to “mourn” her husband, as she had been so busy that there had not been the time. Renee proved to be one of the cheeriest pelegrinas you could wish to meet.
We set off in light drizzle and recently purchased rain gear was immediately donned by the group. Colin, our president, in discussion en route, stated that ‘Life is a series of film quotes’, so there you are. I also got to know Peter, recovering from prostate cancer and Maime, in her 80s, who recalled that, one time in Santiago, her late husband had fallen out of bed, [ after some vino ] and cut his head open – he had to be taken to hospital, but eventually recovered sufficiently to enjoy the city. In her younger days, they had cycled all over the world, including Turkey and Canada.
I remember the first coffee stop and sharing some biscuits I had packed.
I hope you like my super expensive poncho.
We reached the pension at 15.30 after a 09.15 start – 20 km. A very pleasant place with a terrace to match – a quiet drink and then in to town to meet up with the others who were staying elsewhere. We enjoyed a good meal of salad, then Surtidos – fish dish with superb country bread. We got to know another pelegrina, Maureen, who worked in higher education, and had done the Via de la Plata in six weeks. She has an MA in Peace Studies and now works in a voluntary capacity.
the weather was still quite humid, surprisingly, being so close to the Atlantic. It was a lovely walk the next day, ocean views, river valleys, farms and villages.
Mac was struggling with the kidney problem and probably had over-egged on his water consumption. So, after a rough night he decided to take a bus to our next stop and have a day’s rest.He also took a tablet that his urology consultant had given him – together they did the trick and happily he was able to resume his camino the next day.
[ As I read my notes, I am increasingly aware of the difficulty of choosing photos to match the narrative – now I know why I put it off for so long! ]
The hospitality in the Asturias is second to none and in Navia, at a bar, the owner came out with trays of ham, cheese and fiery chorizo, skewered on pieces of bread. The whole group had arrived by now when she reappeared with hot pork on bread. A discussion ensued about the origins of such hospitality with Tim and Maureen. Could it be traced to seven centuries of Moorish occupation? The three of us could recollect similar instances on our collective travels in Morocco, Turkey, Jordan, Africa – generally Muslim countries.
After copious helpings, we returned copious thanks and walked on. That evening, Mac and I had a meal together where a friendly English-speaking waiter gave us a table near the TV to watch the highlight of the evening – Spain V Chile – fiasco of a result -3-2. We had a very good steak and salad though.
Next day we were bound for Ribadeo, an quaint seaside fishing resort. Inevitably beginning with a climb, the Cantabrican sea was often in view.
In Ribadeo, we stayed at Hotel Bouza on the sixth floor, with great views I remember.
Peter had mistakenly booked himself in to the hotel for the next day and there were no free rooms for that night as a fiesta was taking place. Similarly, Maime had not booked in and the only place she could find was 3 star hotel for 91 Euros! By now you will have ascertained that members made their own accommodation arrangements for the most part. Mac’s wife, Margaret, had arranged most of ours, thankfully.
Hotel Bouza was 24 euros for B & B -and very friendly too. There were other little cameos that caused some consternation and for others, myself and Mac included, amusement. The fact that Colin shared rooms with Maureen; they had worked as Hospitaleros previous to this camino – ” Well he is a rural dean…” Wonder what the bishop would have made of it all? However, this was purely a financial arrangement – twin rooms are 50% cheaper than singles.
The next day looked to be a long trek of 31 km and Dave the route master said there would be nothing in the way of refreshments for 21 km, so we stocked up the night before on snacks and drinks. As it turned out we found a coffee stop after 90 minutes walking!
As ever there was stiff climbing, but rewarding views of varied Swiss-like scenery.
For some time I accompanied myself with a camino playlist on the I-pod. Music always helps and Richard Thompson weighed in with a couple of Pilgrim songs. We eventually lunched, sitting on the wall of a tiny village schoolhouse. I had a baguette, a tin of tuna, a capsule of olive oil – from breakfast -and a bag of crisps, followed by a peach, tetra pack of fruit juice and water – all for 2.45 euros. Viva Espana ! 15 km to go so the rest and lunch were more than justified. Later, just as I was wishing it was all over, a bar came in to sight. Maime bought me a drink as a thank you for retrieving her water bottle that she had accidentally dropped over a fence at lunchtime – who says small deeds don’t go unrewarded ?
Me and my drinking buddy, Maime.
After crossing a Roman bridge we reached “Casa Gloria”, a purpose-built set of rooms with ensuite facilities. The delightful owners also ran the local patisserie and invited us help ourselves from a tempting array of ice cold confections – what better welcome after walking in 85 *? Vanilla slices – muy buen. The grounds were given over to fruit trees and free range chickens, and it is here that I first saw my first quince tree with its amazing pear-shaped fruit – pendulous delights!
[It came to me a couple of years later to plant one at my allotment – still waiting for it to fruit, despite heavy blossom these past two years ]
Both Mac and I were somewhat relieved to have made it and an ice cold beer was enjoyed in the town square. Then it went a bit pear-shaped as our leaders began to worry about dinner: it was Sunday evening and both places they had been recommended before the walk were closed. I wandered off and found bar restaurant Union, whilst enjoying a sidra, I realised they were cooking and so a good meal was had of melon, house starters and ‘ox ‘steak with excellent wine, too.
Breakfast next morning at Casa Gloria consisted of yesterday’s cakes and nescafe. The charming host showed us proudly around the delicatessen and after a kiss on both cheeks from Senora, we made our way to Mondonedo – a short walk, but inevitably beginning with stiff climb.
On arrival, there was further confusion about accommodation and who had made the bookings. Colin denied responsibility and being a cleric must have assumed some kind of infallibility, even though that is usually a Catholic claim. Whilst he and Dave went off to salvage some rooms, Mac was making friends with some bemused locals.
Mac, Peter and myself found a beautiful square by the basilica, surrounded by hills that seemed to press down upon it. We enjoyed a couple of beers and eventually our leaders appeared with tidings of great joy – good rooms and food were to be found in the seminary behind the church. This brought us to another impressive square. We registered at 1.45 pm and for 29 euros we had ensuite rooms, five course lunch with wine and breakfast the following day. The refectory could seat 80 comfortably and it turned out to be a great find…the Camino provides…most times!
The evening was spent wandering around the town and finished with a plate of pulpo at the Bodega de Catedrale. That was after adminstering some of my Aloe Vera to the feet of one of six Spanish pelegrinas from Bilbao. Meantime, Mac was administering lots of advice.
Next morning, day seven, I awoke to low level noises, disturbing the tranquility of the seminary, set in such stillness. After breakfast, we set off for a 16 km walk, beginning as ever with a steep climb. A cluster of wind turbines set upon a ridge greeted us.
Ambling along tarmacked lanes and forest tracs through eucalyptus and pine. The sun was shining but there was plenty of shade. We came close to a new motorway at times – yet unfinished – which should be a spectacular drive in the future. We saw three pilgrims in all and as it was quite isolated, no coffee stops.
I fell into conversation with 83 year old Maime, who set a good pace. She told me her husband had worked for Sun Alliance and she had been a lecturer in FE. However, in the 70s the college was closed down and after a year’s travelling with her husband she applied for a deputy headship in a secondary school, in Burton-On Trent (she lived in Derby). To her surprise she got the job. Later, the headteacher told her that it had helped that she was Scot, as there were a lot of Scottish miners amongst the parents! ‘Horrendous’ was her description of the school, but she still enjoyed her five years there. Maime is only 4 feet 6 ins, but a spirited and determined lady who reminded me of my grandmother, Pheobe – another character. My abiding memory of Maime was her hill descent technique – slaloming, zig-zagging down the hills with a couple of us behind her – it must have looked hilarious. More hills, deserted lime kilns and then we were dead lucky – a drink by a cemetery!
I thought only pandas ate bamboo shoots
By this time, the group had fractured in to two groups – Renee,Susie, Sue and another Colin had moved on – they were trying to walk on a frugal budget, staying at Albergues – some might say the authentic way. Our group of five or so was sometimes spread out over a kilometre. Outside our destination I spied the foursome at a welcome sight – a bar. Much needed coffee and agua con gaz. They had got there early to ensure they had beds in the albergue which opened at 13.00: their rucksacks were lined up against the albergue’s closed door in sequence of arrival – the traditional way. We were booked in to to a hostal locally, by El Presidente…or so we thought. It unravelled: after waiting for him for thirty minutes to traipse up to the aforesaid hostal, we made our way in to the village nearby and fortunately found rooms in a comfortable pensione. The group seemed hell bent on the “Menu del Dia”, but I’m not one for heavy lunches, so I opted out and washed some clothes, showered, organised my rucksack before ordering a foot long bocadillo and a cold Estrella de Galicia, drunk from a frosted glass – only happens in Spain.
Today had probably been the least enjoyable section – the walk would have been more enjoyable if we had stopped occasionally for a “bag break” – to give some relief to my left shoulder which still ached even after Dave Jones’ well meaning advice to adjust my rucksack straps. I decide that from now on I should stop where and when I needed…and smell the flowers. There had been too much equivocation these last two days about accommodation etc;
Anyway, after my lunch I went for a walk around the village and found myself heading in the direction of the albergue. I came across “Colin 2” as he became known – originally from Salford, he had lived in Eastbourne for 41 years. Lovely man. He had walked from Geneva to Le Puy previously. We spent the best part of two hours chatting in glorious sunshine. He had been in Jordan about the same time we had been on holiday there and we enjoyed our reminiscences of that wonderful country. The three pelegrinas came by whilst we were chatting and Renee invited me to join them for dinner in a Parrillada opposite our place. So, I eventually made my way back to the pensione and sat outside with a tinto verano, then the barman brought me some tapas – muy buen. For 19.50 euros for the night this place was a gem.
The “Pelegrino” menu was nine euros: I had mussels in a light vinaigrette, roast sardines and potatoes. Suzy from Bilbao ordered some local, special white wine, this was in addition to the chilled red already provided. Membrillo and cheese came later, too. Maime and Peter joined us, plus a German lady Renee had made friends with at the albergue. It was a very relaxing and enjoyable evening. It was probably the most enjoyable night of the whole camino – and we had some good ones.
Day 8 and 85 miles or so to go, apparently. We left Abadin at 08.30, after a breakfast of tostada and a couple of americanos. I bought water from the bar, in case there were no stops allowed…Overcast but warm weather, , a landscape of small farms, more pasture land than arable.
A brisk pace along country lanes, criss crossing the A8/E70 several times. In places some attempts at crosses had been woven in to the fences.
I stopped after an hour and a half for a drink, there was to be no cafe for three and a half hours. We sauntered on…
Farms a plenty and the usual suspects.
We came across an ancient crossing point.
And more ancient tracks.
We had not seen as many churches as one might expect on a camino, but this was a very interesting one, its ‘cementery gotico’ is a national monument
We then reached Vilalba, a ribbon development of a town. We passed the simple albergue where four of the group were going to stay. The others were staying in different places, but Mac and I were booked in to the Parador! Margaret had found a deal when booking the accommodation months ago. The Parador is at the end of what passes for the old town, and is recognisable by its tower.
The receptionist had excellent English and appreciated Mac’s sense of humour . I have to indulge myself with more than usual photos now – not everyday you stay in a Parador – I’ve not stayed in one since ! Sadly…
Managed to separate the beds.
I booked a Turkish bath for 5.30 – needed three cold showers in and out! The cheapest menu in the Parador was 20 euros and didn’t include wine or bread, and breakfast was 10 euros, so we opted out of both. Our receptionist recommended two places in town for regional cooking – one was called The Trough she said, pronouncing it ‘trow’. Something lost in translation?
Floodlit scene after returning from dinner in town .
We left the Parador just before 08.00 patted the bull’s snout for luck and had breakfast in a little cafe round the corner for 2.90 euros.
We met the rest of the group at 08.30, and as it began to drizzle there was frantic activity as raingear was applied – leggings, ponchos, hats. Surprised they didn’t put gloves on!
I took my anorak off after ten minutes because of the humidity. There was a good deal of tree cover on this stage.
A mixture of sandy paths and delapidated buildings. Crossings varied from the N634 and the Autovia, to ancient bridges.
After nearly two hours, the mist lifted off the hills and the drizzle stopped, then a coffee stop. Walking on, the scenery was not that remarkable – a pretty stream though.
Dave Jones was struggling with his knee but soldiered on through the 22 km without complaint. We reached our accommodation, ‘Ruta Esmerelda’, which was a petrol station come truckstop on the N634 and a Parillada – always a sign of good value food.
That proved to be the case. Whilst packed with HGV drivers and business people, space was found for us and after Maureen translated the menu I forwent my usual ‘No Heavy Lunches’ rule as the food looked and sounded too tempting. For 14 euros there were six choices for all three courses plus wine, water and gasera. I had red peppers stuffed with bacalau in a cream sauce for starters. For mains I had two roast quails with the inevitable chips – only managed half of them – others had enjoyed fabada and then roast lamb. For postres there was my all-time favourite, rice pudding, the Spanish way, plus other temptations. The staff were an extrovert bunch – on paying our bill, the waitress pointed at Mac and said, in Spanish ‘hombre fuerte’- strongman ! And she hadn’t been drinking. Then she wanted to know if he was married, causing great hilarity. Some went off for a siesta, I borrowed a chair from the bar to sit on the communal balcony in newly arrived sunshine. About 6 pm I walked down to the albergue to have chat with the rest of the group and we had a good catch up on the day. About 9pm I was persuaded (not difficult) by Tim, the only one of our group not to have been introduced, to share some salad and octopus for supper. Tim is drugs/alcohol advisor, and a Phd – ‘ Dr Tim’, as Mac christened him.
Day 10 and just under 100 km to go. We set off initially along the N634, though it was quiet. Passed an iconic sight – a horreos – a raised grainstore.
Then on through forests of oak, pine and eucalyptus, pastures, farmyards and maize fields.
By 10.30 we reached a bar – enjoyed delicious corncake and coffee, then on to Miraz, a place very dear to Colin Jones’ heart. That is where the English Confraterniy of St James have refurbished an albergue and very smart it is, too. This was where Colin and Maureen did their stint as hospitaleros – volunteers who run albergues, responsible for admissions, cleaning and the giving of succour and advice to Pilgrims. It has bunks for 26 now, if that’s your kind of thing.
Whilst Colin continued his inspection, we repaired to the bar next door for a welcome hour’s rest and a pint on Renee.
The terrain changed as we walked on – more granite in the surface, heather – a kind of Mesquita.
It was 4 km before we hit a gravel road, from where Colin had arranged lifts to the next overnight stop. We waited in the gardens of an abandoned house for 30 minutes until two cars arrived to taxi us to a beautiful setting.
A delicious meal, followed by ‘Orujo Con Hierbas’_- a digestif we would come to love! Mac managed his pork steak and ice cream, despite claiming a toothache! It had been a hot day, so the stone walls were refreshingly cool. We left after a leisurely breakfast and were driven back to the Camino and a change for the worse in the weather – rain, changing from light to heavy drizzle.
My New York open bus ride poncho was on as we embarked on an unmemorable walk, partly due to the weather. I was the only one to stop for a coffee at a tiny cafe – glad I did as the elderly owner poured a shot of Orujo in to my americano! That quickened my step. WET, WET, WET…
It would be another 1.5 hours before the next bar, so I was glad I had stopped earlier. I met up with Tim,Peter and Renee – bought coffees for us all and we carried on afterhad I changed out of my now very wet Africa T shirt and donned my black hooded top – much cooler.
The rain lessened and the walk became more enjoyable – cart trails bestrewn with acorns. We passed a beautiful lake just before the town: the spires of a monastery beckoned and we were booked in to a hotel directly opposite, where we had a good balcony in the sun to dry off our boots, ponchos etc.
We walked round the corner to a restaurant with its Menu Pelegrino, not to mention a roaring fire around which was draped the wet gear of a group of Bicygrinos – cycling pelegrinos – enjoying their meal. The menu was hearty with potato soup, roast meat and chips, plus drinks and bread 10.50 euros each, including a tip. By the time we came out, the rain had cleared and the sun smiled down. I sat at a bar by the hotel, enjoying a glass of excellent local, white wine, whilst writing up part of this narrative. Two Russian Pelegrinas stopped for a chat: we had met them back at the restaurant and they were on their way to the albergue in the monastery.
It is important to remember that Caminos are pilgrimage routes and some of us decided to attend mass and vespers in the monastery.
Mass was nothing out of the ordinary but I couldn’t help thinking that the deacon reminded me of ‘grandad’ in ‘Dad’s Army’. We then relocated to a sympathetically designed modern chapel in the monastery for vespers. There was a good number of pelegrinos in attendance.
Afterwards we went for a drink a nearby bar. Real Madrid V Getafe was on the TV and I had a plate of calamares and salad for supper. A good night’s sleep was in order as we needed to be up and out by 08.00. We had a tough 22 km to Arzua, according to Dave.
Day 12 and the rain returned to greet us – poncho time again – it was both misty and breezy along lanes, mostly. All views were obscured by the weather – even brollies appeared.
I was walking alone for the best part of two hours – Camino playlist on Ipod. I was tickled by one of the songs, ‘Beautiful View’ by Ron Sexsmith, as it was anything but! Eventually, I came to a bar and chose a pre-wrapped doughnut to go with my coffee – a mistake, but nothing fresh available; it was like eating wrapping paper. I discreetly dumped it in a bin. The coffee was good though.
The rain diminished, but it was still breezy – a long uphill climb in to Arzua, where I caught up with Colin at Pensione Rua.
Arzua is on the Camino Frances – the most populated camino – and there were a number of pensiones located on this pilgrims’ ‘motorway’. I had a shower and was downstairs when Mac arrived. I just sat for a while watching the pilgrims arrive. I had a beer and a bocadillo of tortilla and bacon – delicioso! Dave appeared and quietly announced that it was his 73 rd birthday – we had a glass of wine. There followed a mix up about the meal location – Maureen and Colin strode off, causing panic amongst some, till Dave rang for directions. I went up to the room for a rest, put the ipod on and dozed off. Mac returned at 17.30. I got a text from Renee asking if people were meeting up for dinner later. I arranged to meet Susie, Sue, Renee in the square at 19.30. Susie took us first to a little chapel where we got a sello – a stamp – for our pilgrim passports and then on to a tiny back street restaurant – great menu pelegrino -and well known for the local Arzua cheese.
There was pimientos de Padron, roast lamb, merluza – good home cooking, generous portions with wine – 10 euros. Buenas nochas to the pelegrinas and five minute walk back to the pensione, where we had a nightcap.
Day 13 – penultimate day’s walk. Up at 07.15 – usual routine. Thin line of light to the east across the hills, and as I ate the biggest croissant I have ever seen for breakfast, I watched a mixture of pelegrinos and schoool children passing by.
I expected it to be a good deal busier now we were on the Camino Frances, plus the additional high number of Bicigrinos. 22 km to go.
I set off on my own, determined to test myself…and I did.There were two climbs in the first hour coming out of Arzua. The weather was mild, cloudy and misty, but I still worked up a sweat, despite only wearing a black, breathable T-shirt. Didn’t stop at the first cafe, it was packed – being the Frances there would be no shortage. After an hour and a half, I came to a deserted cafe – an americano with a mandatory shot of orujo and a can of ice cold Sprite. Criss-crossing of main roads, cart tracks, sometimes sunk between fields. After recent rain it was muddy in parts. I passed many couples,a lot of pelegrinas – most said ‘hola’ or ‘buen camino’. I could not recall any of this route despite walking it in 2004. The only place I remembered was the night before in the square at Arzua. I passed O Pedrouzo, where we stayed in 2004.
I found the hotel and after 15 minutes on the ‘new’ system, I was checked in. An amicable, English-speaking guy showed me to my room. I ran a bath – luxury because in most 2 star places the showers are good but the baths are so small you have to sit up with your chin between your knees. But here was a full-size unit! Meanwhile, the weather had changed for the better, so socks and unmentionables were washed and hung out on the window sill to dry. Mac and Dave arrived, we had a couple of beers then went to the restaurant for a ‘ligh'” meal of insalada mixta and merluza, melon for postres – best fish of the camino, so far. I took my now dry shower towel out for a spot of sunbathing – flies! So I borrowed a chair from the bar and sat behind a horreos, this place is situated by an old farm. Later, with a tinto verano to hand and the I pod on, I wrote up today’s journey. Camino playlist – ‘Heavy Load’ by Free – resonated with my shoulder ache, though that had lessened considerably. Only Mac,vbDave and I staying here as the others are down the road, somewhere in Sobrado.
[ for some reason I neglected to write down either the village, or hotel name, mea culpa ! ]
I wrote two post cards. One to St Anne’s school, where I was headteacher for a term and now a governor and to Dr Divall at the Hawthorns Surgery, thanking him for his beneficial advice about Ibruprofen and stomach settlers. They worked!
Day 14 – And just over 14km to got to Santiago de Compostela. After hanging around after breakfast, waiting for the others to arrive from Sobrado, we set off with sunny intervals for company. We stopped for coffee after 90 minutes then continued around the periphery of the airport, which I did remember, then up to Mount Gozo.
A huge complex of Pilgrim accommodation below the Mount.
[ In later years this fell, inexplicably , into disuse and disrepair, though I believe the Junta are going to re-facilitate it ]
Onwards through the suburbs to the city. The first port of call was the Pilgrims’Office, to get the Compostela – only 15 minute in the queue.
Then to the Cathedral Square to meet up with the others.
La Salle is only a ten minute walk from the centre and is well placed for slightly less touristy bars, restaurants and the bus station. After a couple of tapas for lunch, I went shopping – lots of sales and very tempting shoes. I went in to Springfield – an upmarket H & M. Disappointing. I’ve bought stuff from there previously. I wandered around as you can in S de C.
I got my watch strap repaired, bought some toiletries, a litre of gin and brandy and, most imporantly, a silk and cashmere scarf for Margaret, as a thank you for sorting out our accommodation. Eventually returned at 19.30. Went to our “local”, tiny ,friendly place, more tapas.
Day 15 – A late awakening at 09.00 and joy…no rucksack to pack, no feet preparation etc. Aches and pains have disappeared. Went to nearby cafe for breakfast – what a treat – freshly squeezed orange juice and a hot bacon bocadillo. Mac and I visited the Museo de Pelegrinos in a beautiful building with free admission on presentation of your pilgrim passport. It was really informative about routes, clothing through the centuries, the legend of St James and the foundation of the Cathedral.
Met up with the others in the Cathedral Square
Everybody looking well, with a feeling of accomplishment – all dressed up for the Pilgrims’ Mass.We took our seats 45 minutes before the start and it was packed. Mass was concelebrated by the Dean of Santiago together with priests from Italy and Germany. The wonderful singing ,inevitably, was coordinated and led by a nun. Then we adjourned to one of the oldest coffee houses in Santiago.
He led us to a restaurant with a beautiful garden. We ordered Menu del Dia and it was most enjoyable – the setting was leafy and al fresco at its best.
John regaled us with some camino stories and we were then joined by a fellow Scot, Steve, who had given up his job in London and was now a much in demand cantor at weddings, funerals etc. I think looks-wise, he modelled himself on George Michael. We had a conversation about music, the liturgy and learning Spanish. Eventually, we returned to La Salle at 18.30. Did some more washing as the sun was beating down on our window, had a shower, then I went off for a solo walk about. I walked up a hill away from the city, through a public espacio ,parklands and found myself on a steep street which led up to the Praza de San Pedro. it is on the inward route of the Camino Primitivo. I had a beer and some tasty tapas – cheeseballs with anchovy. It had been a memorably enjoyable day – although my fourth time in the city – it still continues to both fascinate and surprise.
The next day we were to catch a bus at 08.45 to go to Muxia, on the Costa del Morte. Hopefully, a fish meal might be in prospect.
Day 16 – It was still quite dark as we left the hotel at 08.00 with full moon overhead. Breakfast at the bus station. 12.50 euros return for a journey that took two and a half hours in a first class Mercedes coach with a female driver. We stopped at a good number of villages and it was a scenic enough trip, spotting pilgrims making their way to Finistere. On alighting at Muxia, we were met by an ex-pat friend of Colin’s who took us on a tour, passing conger eel nets, allotments by the rocks and the church on the ocean’s edge. This was after a coffee at Wimpe’s! No relation.
It was 28 * and the beach looked inviting – I had no swimming kit but I did have a small towel, so walked to the far end of a deserted beach and for the second time in my life…skinny dipped…fantastic and surprisingly warm.
Ready then for salad, sardines and calamares with a cold beer.
Restful journey back and after a shower, I went for a walk and found the garden where we had enjoyed lunch with JW the previous day. I ordered a glass of Rioja and when the waiter came he was carrying two glasses .I was about to point this out when the lady who was sat near to me said ‘gracias’ in an undisguised English accent. A coincidence. So we fell in to conversation and she told me she had walked along the Frances from Leon pretty quickly, carrying a notebook. I immediately felt an affinity – and she was writing about her experiences and feelings on the camino, partly undertaken to grieve for her husband who had died suddenly at the end of 2010. She hoped to write a book about grief and the Camino – her motivation struck a chord as I thought about Renee. By further coincidence, she was returning to the UK on the same Ryanair flight as us. We bade our farewells and I meandered a little further in to the city and realised I was lost, so I grabbed a taxi back to La Salle in just enough time to meet up with Mac at our ‘local’ . Same homely welcome and tapas with the drinks. Then five of us went for our final meal at La Bodeguilla de San Lazaro, a few steps away -an excellent meal and a good way to finish.
A brandy at the ‘local’ on the way back to the hotel, then to bed. I had already packed my rucksack ready for an early taxi ride the next morning to the airport at 07.30. All went to plan, check in took two minutes and security was a breeze. The takeoff was slightly delayed, but the time was made up. Then a quick connection at Stansted, changing trains at Tottenham Hale for Euston.
We had all made our farewells by the luggage reclaim. I left Euston at 12.35. Mac had come through very well after his early health scare: he changed trains at Leicester as he was en route to Sheffield for a wedding. ‘Don’t forget Margaret’s present’ were my parting words.
FOOTNOTE
I filled 48 pages of my notebook, writing about this Camino. Equivalent to 24 A4 pages. I state that only to emphasise that the above Blog is not verbatim, because it would have seemed endless. But the narrative included is how it was written at the time – sometimes in the bedroom, often at a bar. Looking back, I can’t recall with any certainty what my reasons for doing it were, but rewriting the journey has been really rewarding, especially in lockdown – a virtual Camino. Thanks to Mac for many of the photos.
Mac later underwent a procedure for his kidney stones – when he woke up the next day, the consultant told him they couldn’t find any! He had passed them on the way – the camino provides.
As I stated at the outset, Mac was the only person I knew in the group and so, looking back, I was probably over critical of some of the events, but what happens on the camino stays on the camino. I learnt a great deal about arranging a group camino from what went right, which it did in the main, and from what went awry – nobody died!
Since that camino, there have been many more, some with Colin and Dave, many with Mac. They can be followed on this Blog -“ensuitepilgrimblog.wordpress.com – the archives are on the right of the first page, including other misdaventures.
I learnt a lot about myself, too. I could never claim patience as one of my virtues – but I learnt how to count to ten, if not in Spanish! [ I can now! ]
Thanks to Colin for arranging the camino; to Dave for advice on routes, weather and rucksacks; Margaret for arranging the accommodation, pelegrinas and pelegrinos for their cheerful camaraderie; the Spanish people for their patience and hospitality and to my walking amigo and room mate Mac, for his company, day and night!
It has been a great and, at times, tough experience. Now I am looking forward to the next one.
ensuitepilgrim's Blog 
Leave a comment