The sky a few minutes before 8:00 a.m.

and a few minutes after:

A spot to remember: half way from St. Jean-Pied-de-Port to Santiago:

Not to be confused with the spot, somewhat further on, and more ceremoniously marked, half way between Roncesvalles and Santiago:

And here is a close up of Cluny, who said so. You can see the ordinance in his hand:

These small hut-like structures are likely to be bodegas:

Res ipsa loquitur!

At our coffee stop this morning, we met an older Englishman, who now lives in Spain in a van, or maybe really in Alicante but travels around in his van, and who, we determined, rightly or wrongly, prowls El Camino in search of women. He promised the proprietor of a certain cafe that he would deliver a forgotten tube of cream to a peregrino who had moved on to Sahagún. Apparently, his efforts tired him out:

We meet him later on when we went out for dinner, and discovered that he was not having too much success with the ladies. He did, however, tell us quite a bit about the history of Gibralter, and I gotta tell you that he is damn mad that the Spanish are having trouble respecting the terms of the Treaty of Utrecht, you know, the one that was signed in1713. And there you have it!

A bit of an excursus on our accommodations for the evening. The descriptive blurb promised a hairdryer in the room. Indeed, there was a hairdryer:

But before getting verification of that amenity, first, let us approach The Hostal:

Is that REALLY our hotel or a refuge for addicts? Well, there was a reason for the severely ominous exterior. It was a Thursday, and Thursday is the day off for the family who runs the place:

Not only did that have aesthetic consequences, but there was no one to tell que no había papel higiénico en mi habitación. (There was no toilet paper in my room.) Fortunately, Tanya and Ian could spare some.

I wanted to open the window for some fresh air, but in this ruin, just a few feet away lived many pigeons:

Despite all the off-putting aspects of this place, the room was spotless and had all, well, almost all, the necessities. In the morning, breakfast, served just past the bar (the bar where lots of locals gathered before 7:00 a.m.), was surprisingly exellent. A tall glass of fresh, and I mean fresh, sweet orange juice, a very tasty roll, several slices of a fine cheese, a basket of fruit (most of which was not ripe, but OK), and delicious cafe con leche, as much as you wanted. Also, the young man who ran the place, was as nice as could be.

By the time we left, este hostal had a whole different look:

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Location:Calzadilla de la Cuesta to Sahagún

Mileage: 10.74.

Yesterday’s hotel, plain as its rooms were, had a winding staircase the wood of which was very old:

An outer and an inner front door both with lots of carved detail and bronze fittings:

Along the say, a thick wooden door with one of those tiny windows you see in convents in the movies:

How exciting is this! We are marching along the Via Aquitana:

The scenery continues to be flat, dry, barren, and vast, oh, and there are lots of flies:

on the other side of the road, as well:

No, it is not Canada, but cañada, (track or ravine). The services it promises are minimal: no drinking water, but you can grab a table and, as the cloud icon indicates, there is a small overhang offering shade:

Ian and Tanya moving steadily along La Via:

At last we arrive at a town! It is our town, Calzadilla de la Cueza. Granted we have walked less than eleven miles, but this we did without a break, so the lure of a pool on this warm, dusty day was exciting. Alas, graffiti, only:

View (I love it) from my bedroom and bathroom windows:

The daily washing machine, although this shot is from a previous day:

Of a truth, it cannot be from today because there is a problem in town, a town, which has exactly one commercial establishment, the place where we are staying:

Translation: Notice: Tomorrow (which is today) the 25th, the water will be cut off from 9:00 a.m. until further advisement due to the cleaning of the tanks. Signed, the mayor.

So, having had a nice lunch with our friends Friedrich and Marianne, but unable to take a shower or do laundry, Tanya and I set off to explore the couple of streets that make up this town.

A common building material here is mud mixed with stones and straw. (If you click on the photo to enlarge, those features should be visible). The windows (small) sometimes have no glass but vertical bars in front of wooden shutters:

Peeking through a gate to a courtyard and flowerpots:

An even smaller window with no bars at all. The mud, stones and straw show up better here:

Getting up close to a tile roof, one can see that at least some of the tiles are supported by cement:

A town, no matter how small will have a large church, but, like this one, it is likely to be locked:

Parts of the meseta may not be barren after all. There is a lot of farming equipment in this town, and it ain’t there for nothing:

A playground; no children:

Oh joy! It is 4:30 and The water has come back on at last!

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Location:Carrión de los Condes to Calzadilla de la Cueza

13.54 miles today and an even shorter day tomorrow.

We have noted the paucity of birds, which may be due to the paucity of trees, but here is a pigeon perched on a church wall:

These sheep walking through town look like the sheep of yesterday. Only why are they walking through the main street of Frómista?

See, and like yesterday’s flock, there is even one trying to eat something:

So many renderings of “peregrinos:”

The same kind of flowers as in East Rock Park:

We were not sure if this was, at one time, a street lamp. There were several of them in a row, looking quite lovely:

Straight this way for oats!

Iconic sign. Inevitably, around the corner…..

there will be people partaking of refreshments:

The ladies’ room:

Ian and the mayor making important decisions:

Four life-long friends enjoying a pleasant evening in the square in Carrión de los Condes:

And four young boys kicking around a soccer ball:

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Location:Frómista to Carrión de Los Condes

Today, a first! Our actual mileage, 15.93 was less than the quoted mileage of 16+ miles; GyPSy does not lie!

The meseta is dry:

barren:

flat:

vast:

and thrilling to walk through, especially in the morning hours before the sun starts to cook you despite thick slatherings of sunscreen carefully applied. It is exciting to be in a huge space that does not overwhelm.

Entering a new province. Definitely picture worthy:

Just me and my shadow:

Ian said that if I did not hurry up and snap this shot, he and Tanya would fall asleep:

Ahhh–sheep!

and shepherd–again. Only different sheep and a different shepherd:

This fellow needed a nibble:

Bye!

Sometimes, if you want a drink, you have to turn the wheel:

Peanut butter sandwich time:

Not the Great Glen Way, but a significant canal runs through these parts:

Again we are staying at a charming, modest hostal rural. Plain as it is, there are the necessities: enough hot water, large bath towel, comfortable bed, bright sun streaming into the room, and it is hot enough outside for laundry to dry on the window sill in less than an hour!

Lace panels on the windows:

Packing that fifth pair of socks was a good idea after all:

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Location:Frómista

No mileage quote for today because although Ian and Tanya walked (12 1/2 or so miles) I did not! That is correct. I actually said, “I cannot.” Taken ill by some food poisoning-like ailment, only not that bad because it wasn’t painful, I could not even consider walking this morning.

As luck would have it, the guy who was driving us back to Hornillos so that we could continue from there to Castrojeriz, was also transporting our luggage, so he dropped Ian and Tanya off and then drove me and the bags to our hotel for the night. Not only was he awfully kind, but the owner of this place let me go straight to my room (at 9:00 a.m.) where I took a hot bath to stop the shivers and then fell into bed. A few hours later I felt much better, and now am back on my feet, ready to tackle the trail again.

Sheets and towels drying in the yard of the hotel:

For those people who cannot get enough of cats, here is one, much better fed than most we have seen, with blue eyes

I don’t get it either:

Since there are no momentous photos from the day’s walk, some observations (more detailed than previously covered) will substitute.

Weekends: From Saturday afternoon until Monday, everything shuts down. It is like shabbos in Jerusalem except without the siren! Just try to get something in a shop; no es posible.

Albergues: A surprising number of people have had great difficulty getting accommodation. The albergues fill up extremely early in the day, and even if walkers have the means to stay at any grade of hotel, those are often full, too. Their options are to sleep on a church floor, if a church floor is available, or outside, and this without a sleeping bag. Sometimes they call ahead to the next town and try to book there….if they can get transportation. That accommodation might be an issue during the summer months would not be surprising, but in late September, who would think?

Coping with the 8:30 dinner hour. Just about every town has at least one restaurant that serves a “peregrino” dinner. This is a fixed price meal consisting of three courses, bread and wine. The main difference between it and a regular, later dinner is the limited choice, and, of course, you are locked into the three course and wine thing. The first course will include a choice of salad or soup, sometimes a pasta dish. Second: a meat and either chicken or fish, sometimes a vegetarian option. Third: flan, ice cream, rice pudding or some other like confection. Portions tend to be small. No one has complained that the house wine is inferior.

Going to the bathroom en route: There is little shelter, but if one is desperate, one can usually find a spot after a bit. Also, any town that sells food and drink, even the smallest establishment, will have servicios; they are always spotless.

Is the walk difficult? No, it really isn’t. Weather makes a difference on any long distance walk, and we have been lucky, very very lucky. We walk at a decent pace, which allows us several afternoon hours at our destination to freshen up, do laundry, rest, organize for the next day, and still see something of the town we are are in. It’s a lovely life!

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Location:Caastrojeriz

From Santo Domingo to Belorado, 14.5 miles, a “short” day. Not one of the most scenic so far, but not difficult, either.

Not your everyday fountain (reminds me of that great bit in Judges 5…”He asked for water and she gave him milk…”):

Sheep, a sheepdog, and a sheepherder:

Unhappy kitty with a bad left leg at a cafe:

Sometimes the landscape is flat, especially where the grass has been cut for hay:

Fifth stage, as these things are calculated:

Ministry of Foment? No! False cognate! It is Ministry of Development, which makes much more sense:

Sunflowers:

This dog, when seated in the road, looked like Cerberus, so we, los tres amigos, lined up to pass him together. We felt rather foolish when he turned out to be a playful pup:

Orange berries so shiny that that look like plastic:

All God’s critters gotta get to Santiago:

Stork nests, says Ian:

Blue in the States, red in the UK and yellow in Spain:

Not willing to wait for the Spanish dinner hour, we bought a few things at the local grocery store and had a picnic at our B and B:

Speaking of our B and B, which is old and lovely, but since no pictures came out you can’t know, it is described as being in the old Jewish Quarter of which there is not a shred of evidence. Maybe this guy, dressed in armor, who, as you can see, means business what with his foot raised and his troops in the background and all, is reading the edict responsible for that….or maybe not:

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Location:Belorado

13.80 miles today. (You can see who is counting.) We arrived in Hornillos at 1:30, which gave us an hour to have a sandwich, a beer (alas, not I), and a rest before our taxi came to bring us back to Burgos.

On the way out of town, we came across this lady who looks a lot like the lady of a few days ago who was spouting water only this one is not:

If ever a crustacean was far from home, this one, yes, quite alive, was. He was not headed toward Santiago:

This here dog is accompanying his human. He seemed not to be objecting to those paw covers:

Fred and Marianne, from Austria, have been on our schedule, so we bump into them daily. They walk very fast, only here they are sitting:

Ian taking a picture of a pretty house in Hornillos:

With an arrow like this, you don’t get lost:

Lots of rocks and you are going to see a cairn, ’cause people like to pile up rocks:

Beginning of the meseta:

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Location:Burgos to Hornillos

A short walk today, 13.19 miles, fairly pleasant, especially the last part along the river into Burgos, and fast enough so that we arrived before our luggage. We did start out with a small handicap, however, that being the first really bad breakfast of the trip so far. What constitutes a really bad breakfast? For one thing, the coffee was brewed or somehow concocted the night before and left to stand at room temperature. OK, so it was less dramatic than that; there was a microwave!

Complaining over…we began with a gorgeous sky (as seen from my room);

We have been intrigued by these little crocus-like flowers that grow from the dry earth with no apparent stem. The human footstep is their biggest enemy:

The Guardia is still around!

And so is the military:

Maybe this is not the best example, but the many falling-down structures in small towns have a kind of charm. Perhaps it is that their very materials are attractive..stone, tile, wood…the colours, textures, proportions, and shapes are warm and pleasing to the eye:

This couple may be the most photographed pair on The Way! They are carrying their packs on wheeled devices strapped to their waists:

Ian and Tanya had empañadas at our coffee stop this morning. The smell of the meat was too much for this pup! “Please, Mr. Ian, can’t I have a bite?

Oh, I am so sad!

His tactics were at last successful.

Hand in hand in Burgos!

A view of the cathedral near our cushy hotel:

Would you believe that this is a bank? A bank!

We are ambling about Burgos, enjoying to the hilt, our first rest day. We had coffee at a marvelous pastry shop—there are so many marvelous pastry shops in this town—where they sell these almond studded, chocolate coated tejas (“tiles.” See photo of dilapidated house above). So so so delicious!

The meringues are gorgeous, too:

A big bull in bronze (?):

A shot that does not do justice to these attractive shade trees:

This device is ingenious. It blocks the street to cars, but if you have a pass, you flash it in front of a sensor, the post sinks into the ground, and in you go. Then up rises the post again:

Wine is a big commodity:

We did visit the cathedral today, which was mind boggling. Gold, very much gold, silver, marble of many kinds, ivory, gems, intricately carved wood, stained glass, fantastic chandeliers, painted domes that seem to go up forever. Every inch reveals some sort of work of art from the tiniest detail to grand spaces.

Off again tomorrow to begin the first of three days across the meseta. Hear tell that it is F L A T without a tree for shade. Anyway, we are at a nice, if ever so slightly dreary hotel in Burgos with all the amenities, tomorrow night as well (taxi ferry from end of walk and back the nest day), so many comforts to look forward to.

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Location:Calle de Madrid,Burgos,Spain

Let it be known that the distance from Belorado to Atapuerca, by foot, is not 18.1 miles but 19.71. Fortunately, just previous we had two quiet nights, i.e., good sleep desperately needed after the disastrous nocurnal fiesta in Logroño. Also, we tried to eat well, stopped four times en route for fuel and rest, and still managed to arrive by about 4:30. (Well, yeah for us!) That was a long enough walk, though, to quell our interest in exploring Atapuerca before dinner, which, good or bad, our little hotel serves.

Churches with their so lovely bell towers are everywhere, even yonder against that rock:

Fields and fields of sunflowers; people cannot resist carving faces or messages on the ones closest to the road:

Here is one, having escaped being maimed, up close and personal:

Blue sky and bales of hay waiting to be picked up and stacked by a most ingenious machine:

A patch of poppies:

Just love those fat clumps of berries:

Stream and large bridge as seen from little footbridge:

Such great colours:

We all liked the name of this “town.” The map informs that it has twenty inhabitants. Guess what? It doesn’t have more! There is a big church a couple of albergues and absolutely nothing else. A very old stone wall leading out of town suggests that back in the day, way way way back, there may have been something else there–a monastery, maybe?

What a sky:

Our last stop of the day was in an adorable town called Agé. It had an adorable teeny tienda (store), stocked with gourmet goodies:

Curtain on my bedroom window at our hostal rural:

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Location:Belorado to Atapuerca

Logroño was the first city or town we have seen so far that was littered with trash. Early in the morning, comes the first shift of street cleaners to hose down the streets and shove the trash into piles. Apparently, a second shift scoops it up.

Today’s walk to Nájera was 18.71 miles. We started out perky as these young folk:

A river where lots of locals, adults and children, were fishing:

Around the bend, swans and cygnets:

That is some bull!

Not a peregrino:

It is always exciting to see art along the way:

It is too hard to choose a single photo of grapes, so here are two:

We did not know what this was either, although it did have a mattress on the floor. You would not want to sleep on it!

By and by, at 16.69 miles we came upon this map. We were only one red square from Nájera:

There were festivities in town that evening. At first we got a kick out of the bands playing and people congregating:

Little did we know what was to come! More and more people, old and young, filled the streets. There was singing and shouting and several bands playing and bells ringing. The cacophony of shouting and bands playing and children crying got louder and louder; it did not stop ALL NIGHT. I mean at 2:00 a.m., and at 3:00 a.m. it was still going on. At about 5:45 a.m. there was some guy shouting “toros, toros!”

At breakfast this morning we were dead, but thankful that we had a “short (14 mi. i.e. 14.24) day” ahead. That the coffee machine was not working was almost enough to send us over the edge.

Intrepid souls that we are, we faced the day’s demands as best we could with plans to stop twice for coffee because why not when you can?

A short while after we set out, we came upon this marker. “Oh, no!” shouts Ian! Not 581 K more! Well, at least not today:

Go places, see new things, change occupations:

Yes, vineyards do need watering:

After a while it is all a blur:

Our hotel tonight is very modest but run by a lovely young woman. As soon as you throw open the windows to let the light stream in, take a hot shower, and lie down for a rest, yes, we all needed a rest today, you love every inch of your plain little room. Best of all, after last night we are loving the quiet.

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Location:Calle de Margubete,Santo Domingo de la Calzada,Spain