We had been thinking about the notorious segment from Herrerias de Valcarce to O’Cebreiro for some time. “Only 10 K,” Tanya noted thoughtfully, “But a straight climb the whole way.” We braced ourselves, expecting an unrelenting 80 degree ascent, but it was nothing like that. Uphill, yes, but it was not difficult. Especially enjoyable was the woodsy-ness of the first segment, and, for the first time, we were treated to a rich variety of birdsong. An outdoor concert at first light, on a cold morning, on a quiet path is truly glorious.

The path was a mixture of stones, through which we had to make our way, or dirt, or a combination:

In case you think it is easy to get two Bossies to cross the road to get to the other side, let me tell you, after witnessing such an effort, I can tell you that it is not. One man….

and his dog….

had quite a job.

Conical buildings with sod roofs are a typical sight in this area. Apparently, they are used for storing maize:

A bar, otherwise known as a coffee stop, waiting for customers:

Backpacks and poles need a rest, too:

Big guy with a big load and sore knees:

Potable or not?

The scenery changes again:

Graffiti….it is everywhere:

We reach O’Cebreiro early, since we had only sixish miles to climb (a rest day, essentially) and found a tourist mecca. Two shops selling tchatchkies; for example, this walking stick decorated with Bucky Beaver:

We consider a pitchfork, and, voila, American-Australian Gothic:

Tanya is an intense shopper only she hardly ever buys anything:

Later on I go for a walk and see a creature I have never seen before:

And this one….hmmm…maybe male and female, same species?

A gastronomic specialty of the area is….

It can become cold here very quickly. Sometimes, after the sun goes down, we wish fires were burning already:

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Location:Calle de los Formigueiros,Sarria,Spain

Day twenty nine, sick. No miles. Sad.

Day thirty, 14.59 mi.

Another gorgeous day. We ascend for some time and see clouds that are islands of fluff in the sky:

At one point there is a fork in the path, but stones in the shape of an arrow make clear our direction:

Evidence of human needs breaks through the fluff that dances in the sky:

There are lots of berries by the path, some ripe, some not:

Don’t these look perfect for eating?

A cemetary:

We are so enjoying the vegetation, wild and planted:

There are groves and groves of chestnut trees:

Poisonous?

Granny!

and her steed!

Recycling bins everywhere:

The gorgeous scenery of the day diminishes as we walk under highways:

several times:

Tomorrow’s walk, to O’Cebreiro is all up hill. In case it is too much, there are choices:

After a bit of debate this evening, we bag the nag option and decide to continue with our our original mode of transportation.

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Location:Molinaseca to Villafranca to Herrerío

A pink horizon was the first sign of our most greatest walking day, so far, on El Camino.

Woods, paths, hills we go up and hills we come down, trees, grasses, bushes, vegetation of various kinds surrounded us all day. We are so happy!

Just look how big those stemless flowers grow in this rich environment:

After some time, we reach “the iron cross,” which, it is said, marks the highest point on El Camino:

Isn’t this a sweet little rustic structure?

Except it is….

for a hostel.

In case walking to Santiago is not enough (222 K more), we could shoot for Jerusalem:

Two playful onlookers:

Yes, mouintains!

Sometimes the path is not so easy to walk on. You really do have to watch your step, which means that you cannot take in everything around you all the time:

We were so excited by the mountains after days and days and days of flat walking that another look is not too much:

Phew, we have it right:

Two dogs taking their siesta in the sun after a good lunch:

Things for which I am a sucker and of which I take way too many photos:

Small windows with curtains:

or without, and boarded up:

or with glass and bars:

Old old old structures, especially with old old old stone steps:

Doors:

Clothes hanging out to dry:

Now on to other things. Remnant of a big tree with a deep, swirly bark:

Mid afternoon of a perfect day we approach Molinaseca:

Ian and Tan:

And me:

We are staying at a place called El Palacio, and let me tell you, it is! Tan and Ian are given a room with 360 degree views. I have great views, too:

And this:

And a bathroom that is HUGE:

We go shopping. This tienda (store) advertises its wares on a genuine turntable. Rotating bananas….there is nothing like ’em:

More old steps! Aren’t they great?

Profusion of petunias:

This has been a spectacularly lovely day.

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Location:Rabanal del Camino to to Malinaseca

We trudged 12.89 miles. Part of the time it rained; part of the time it didn’t. Most of the time we walked near a road, but a short stretch took us through some woods, yeah. There was a fence, which, along almost all of its considerable length, people had woven things, mostly crosses of sticks:

You know you have arrived when you see this familiar sight (note the stork nest):

A sod roof in decay:

Almost everything is on the same street. We are at the Posada de Gaspar:

The rooms in our hostal rural are as plain as can be, but the building itself is 17th C; wood, stone and metal work wonderful to look at. The keys to the rooms are large and hand carved:

And after turning in the key, we head off for Molinaseca.
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Location:Astorga to Rabanal del Camino

The constant roar of trucks, sounds of people shouting in the bar mixed with muffled voices through paper-thin walls, a thick piece of foam on a cot for a mattress, a pillow filled with who knows what, and linens just a bit yucky were red lights for a bad night’s sleep, and we had 18.37 miles to accomplish the next day. A cocktail of two Motrin + two Tylenol did the trick. Despite all, I slept.

We were not sorry to leave Hostal LIbertad, although, really, the room was clean and there was hot water and decent towels, so off we went at 7:40 a.m. The first hours were along more asphalt; cars and trucks were constant company. This seemed a good opportunity to study the low life of the route.

Serious ant hills:

A singular castillo de arena, the queen’s residence, perhaps?

A Large snail, purposefully making its way:

And a well-fed slug with perky antennae:

(The ants, snails, and slugs seem to be in some sort of relationship because all three seemed to “be” and then “not be” all at once.)

Oh, and one creeping caterpillar, too:

Three pussy cats all in a row:

Apples that fell not far from the tree:

Branches with berries reaching to the ground:

Then there is this kind of low life:

For shame!

At last! We reach el rio Órbigo–see the sign?

See the bridge in the fog and the river?

We change direction! We follow the arrow pointing right. This takes us onto the gold route. We willingly walk an extra kilometer to leave the noisy noisy noisy N 120 behind. Oh, joy!

Paths are now stony:

And for a stretch, hard-packed dirt (the best walking surface):

And instead of garbage strewn along road, we see corn:

and landscape that has colors other than grey. There are mountains in the distance, but you cannot see them in this shot:

These cows were so dirty, poor things:

Oy:

A sculpture (before the invention of the backpack?) titled Quo Vadis:

Eventually, Astorga comes into view, but it is still an hour or more before we reach it:

We are at the Gaudí Hotel. It is across the street from the Gaudí Palace and the cathedral. It is a beautiful little hotel. Lovely furnishings, spacious room, in fact, a room with a view!

Astorga has more chocolate shops than makes any sense, but I do not buy chocolate. I buy a giant cookie. It looks like a chewy sugar cookie but it tastes terrible. Too bad.

After we get something to eat in a beautiful eaterie, we head for the sights. How I wish we had our rest day here rather than in León. Hours in the Gaudí Palace would have been wonderful, but we had only an hour and a half to see the palace and the cathedral.

It was impossible to take photos of the fabulous vaulted ceilings, exquisite decoration, just everything! So here are a few paltry details of the artwork that in no way do justice to their grandeur and delicacy.

Painted column that go on forever:

A square of stained glass:

or maybe this detail is more beautiful:

Small section of my most favorite series of windows whose pinks change as the light strikes the glass:

In the cathedral, there is much gold:

It shows up better in this detail because my flash went off, which is not allowed:

There are some huge, old music books on display. Sadly, we hear no music:

We have had a very fine few hours in Astorga!

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Location:Villadango del Páramo to Astorga

14 miles.

The segment of the route we followed today has two legitimate destinations, the one to which were sent, which is the grey route—you never want to follow the grey route if you can help it; grey=roads, and the other destination, parallel to this one, through country side, to which we were not sent. Let it never be said that we have not experienced the urban, warehouse, traffic-y sprawl of industrial Spain.

For the first two hours, or approximately 5 1/2-6 miles, we walked through the lovely centre and then the not lovely outskirts of León. Upon hitting the highway, what do we see? The Chicken Man! “Walter? Walter White, estás allí?”

A modern church, quite a surprise:

Three nuns, in full habit, hastily departing said church:

We walked in the rain, behind guard rails:

and without guard rails:

Wet, and weary of the whish and whir and roar of trucks, we stopped for our usual mid-morning pick-me-up:

Then on we intrepid souls go. I say, what is this?

Santiago is 3298 km. distant? Ayyyy, no!

We enter our destination town, Villadangos del Páramo. Some houses need a bit of work:

The occasional blue door never fails to catch the eye:

As almost always, the instructions to the night’s hotel are wrong, but we find our lodgings anyway:

Yeah, it kind of is like that. And the trucks keep roaring by at a rate of about one or two every five to ten seconds.

There is not much in Villadangos del Páramo, and Hostal LIbertad, it turns out, is the hot spot in town. (It is the only spot, too.)

Men pour in to play cards:

They roll out felt mats and deal:

This guy enjoyed having his picture taken:

So much so that his pal was shining up his pate for the photo shoot:

You see those oranges? They will go straight into the machine tomorrow morning to make juice fresh as can be. (Fresh maybe, but the juice was sadly acidy and not sweet.)

Dinner was not available until 8:00 p.m., so we went to the panadaría to buy supplies for in-room dining. Bread, cheese, mustard, a tomato, a mixture of cornichons, olives, and pickled onions, followed by some sweets, tucked away in the suitcase for fortification and deliciousness, and times such as these:

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Location:León to Villandangos del Páramo

We are in a city with traffic lights, more hustle and bustle than we are used to, and staying in a regular sort of hotel. The beds are comfy, the floors are carpeted (maybe for the first time–or were they also in Burgos? Who can remember?) But the wi-fi no funciona! We are a bit miffed. But worse, Ian is not feeling well, so while he is resting, Tanya and I go across the street to one of Spain’s super-stores:

This is a BIG department store with a supermarket on the lower level that has a gourmet section that rivals Whole Foods’ speciality items. How sad that our suitcases cannot accommodate jars of hugely fat white asparagus, marvelous biscuits, jams, cheeses, wines and the like. The only thing manageable was saffron, but that will have to wait.

By late morning Ian felt better so off we went toward the cathedral, the must-see of León. On the way, we saw some birds of different feathers sharing a sandwich:

and the miracle of a woman who, it seems, can be pregnant and nursing at the same time:

Finally we get to the cathedral:

Within, I meet some friends. Here is Yael, with hammer and tent peg, looking strikingly like renderings of the Virgin Mary:

And the Queen of Sheba:

And a somewhat feeble Solomon:

After our visit, we tour the old section where we are delighted with the art—-of different genres. There is painting:

And sculpture:

And a woman with a purse and hat but no head:

Hmmmmm,

Yes. Gaudí is doing a fine job designing the building in front of him into which we could not go because it was closed, as so many things are:

As we make our way through town, we see a pig’s head:

and a doll house:

and to round off our cultural experience:

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Location:León

11.37 miles

Reluctantly we left our most charming and atmospheric hostal rural so far. The front desk looks very busy even when no one is working there:

In order to get to León early to experience a 424 stall market, we headed out before sunrise:

Dawn is hardly an event here. It is dark and then it is light, so an early departure is really not so crazy.

The walk to León can hardly be called gorgeous. Another day of walking near the road and then lots of industrial, pre-city areas. We were glad of a short day, an arrival before noon, and a rest day to look forward to. Our speedy pace stirred up a craving for some good pastry, and since we beat the arrival of our luggage, after check-in, we headed off to a fancy pastry shop near the hotel. Ummmm, large cinnamon bun like pastries (minus the cinnamon) and good, hot coffee for which one had to stand in line for ages, energized us for the excitement of the market.

We were disappointed! Except for the occasional olive stand:

this was not a food market–that was yesterday!–but lots and lots of clothing and “stuff,” like pants:

and underpants:

and shoes:

and something for everyone, maybe:

This did not deter Tanya from considering a shirt:

While she resisted that item, she did find two lovely scarves.

Our most favorite item of the 424 stalls was, without a doubt, this “golden” handbag:

There were lots of people at the market:

and to make sure all hell did not break lose:

After all that looking at this and that and deciding that we are so done with markets, we were hungry and thirsty. Fortunately, in Spanish towns, one does not have to go far to find a cafe. Tanya and Ian were psyched that two cafes con leche, one agua con gas, y dos reposterías cost only 3 euros 30.

Big guy languishing in a León plaza:

Now, not so lonely:

It tuned out that there was a blessing of the animals celebration in León the day we arrived. There were cows wearing sombreros, pulling carts decorated with flowers:

Children practicing their steps:

And ladies dressed in traditional costumes playing tambourines and castañetas:

Groups of people in the plaza in front of the cathedral singing:

And dancing:

You go, girl in the yellow skirt:

Is it over already?

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Location:Mansilla de Mulas to León

A difficult day, only 12.8 miles, flat and straight. But breakfast was minimal, it was raining, cold, and windy for two hours, and the boredom of the relentless sameness of the path for the past many days had taken its toll. For the first time I wondered, “Will I be able to complete this walk?” Although we are past the half-way mark to Santiago, only tomorrow will we reach the half-way mark to Finisterre.

When we arrived at our magnificent Hostal Rural in Mansilla de las Mulas, saw our gorgeous rooms, had a hot, flavorful cafe con leche, we felt ever so much better.

Way at the end of the street, four grannies chatting:

Remnants of the old arch:

Go where the wind blows and you get shot—-maybe:

Ancient ruin fitted with TV antenna:

Very very very old steps and wall:

View of grape arbors over the patio (from my window):

In the other direction, church tower:

Bed!!

Detail of the bed linen:

Sweet little chair in the corner:

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Location:Calle de la Concepción,Mansilla de Las Mulas,Spain

11.71 miles.

The sky at Sahgún shortly after 8:00 a.m.:

Who does not want to be buff?

Pruned tree:

Despite two previous claims, Sahagún asserts that IT is the geographical center of El Camino:

We leave by a bridge:

And should a crossword constructor think s/he can stump this solver with the clue, “river that passes through Sahagún, three letters,” well, s/he won’t:

More of those flowers that look like crocuses but have no above-ground stem:

The nicest church we have seen so far (imho), but since we did not want to pay to go in, we could just peek at its interior:

Back in the eighth century, if you prayed here, you earned forty days indulgence:

A VERY exciting experience. We were having our mid-morning refreshment when Tanya noticed a table with books (Spanish—also a German translation, fyi) on display. Ehhh, not so interesting, but on inspection, interest grew. The first paragraph drew me in (read: I could translate it), and since the story is a mystery that takes place all along El Camino, I thought, “Why not?” It turned out that the beautiful, young woman you see in the photo is the author’s daughter and the man, her husband. She was lovely, and wrote a little something in the book, added an official stamp, denoting the place where this took place, and I handed over 12 euros. Now I have something to read other than Como Agua Para Chocolate (for the third time).

El Burgo Renero at noon:

Curious orange “fruits?” that look a bit like apricots but are hollow:

Rain since mid-afternoon! Is our streak of marvelous weather coming to an end?

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Location:Sahagún to Burgo de Ranero