To be consistent and continue kvetching, I will complain today about, oh, I almost forgot this one: at the start of the walk there was an arrow with a waymark sign. Let’s say it was pointing north.  Guess what?  You were supposed to go east.  15 minutes lost there.  Then there were the wretched wheat and barley fields, and the waymarks “that were probably lost,” and an instruction to “enter the trees,” but where??!!  All this has led me to a decision—maybe.  When the GPS track and Viewranger disagree, go with Viewranger.  The problem with that is that it is easier to follow the GPS readout than Viewranger’s.

Another navigational issue is that sometimes you can be going in the correct direction but not at the right place.  For example, say you were walking to the Yale campus from the direction of Hamden.  It could make a difference if you walked along Prospect, Whitney, or Orange because you would not end up at Wolsey Hall in each case.  Not having anyway to compensate for that out here in the wilds, because there may be impassable shrubbery or a ravine, or a wall or some other impediment as opposed to cross street, makes that issue another time loser. Most often you just have to go back since you may only be able to get to X from A but not B or C.

This was an easy fence to get through.  What you do is you pull the wooden pole that has the blue string around it towards the fatter pole.  Then you can slide the cord over the top.   If you pull the  wooden pole up from the hole in the ground where it is seated, the whole fence sort of collapses, but no matter, you go through, put the pole back in the hole and then pull as hard as you can to get the pole close enough to fat pole so that you can put the blue cord around it again.  This happened to be an easy fence to deal with.

Foal:

If you don’t like Bóveda, you can take a bus, says John, (but I’d challenge him on that one)

But you’d be pretty silly to pass up the Casa Rural here in Boveda.  It is a really really nice place where you even have kitchen  privileges.  And the very very nice lady gave me two eggs, bread, and a hearty rice dish she had cooked, so I had an omelette, rice, cucumber and tomatoes, toast, and a few other things.  What a great meal! She is also taking Rojita and Rojita’s companion, Mochilita, to the next B and B.

Cow of the day:

Salazar is the first place I have an official rest day, which I switch and decide to walk the next day since I had already lounged around in that luxurious balneario in Corconte.

Long but easy, says the book.  I am OK with that.  Scenery may not be dramatic but it is pleasant and I am so into easy that I do not notice my first error.  But that was after the pretty field:

I definitely did go off the route.  I looked at the GPSand did not see the magenta track.  Is this device not working?  Yes, it was working, only I was so not where I should have been. I turn back.

Sometimes there is signage, and if there was also a warning, which, doubtless would not have been heeded, I will never know.

That path reminds me of the “muddy cow track which “you will likely want to avoid by taking the field on the side.”  (There were two sides.)  Anyway, I felt kind of guilty opting for the field—and chose the left side— because a poor woman was herding  a whole lot of skinny cows through the most yucky muck and cow shit deep as you can’t imagine.  It’s a living.

On to a different aspect of nature:

Later on during this long but easy day I made a huge awful mistake that cost me about an hour, and it was hot in full sun on a highway.  A taxi was scheduled to pick me up at 3:00 at end point but had to call  to have him come at 4:00.  I could make the call because el dueño de la Casa Rural put €10 on my phone last night. After walking 22.8 miles from 6:30 a.m. to 4:00 p.m., taxi pulled up just as I was hauling myself around looking for the church, our meeting point.  But I did not die:

  I have not yet mentioned Cristina, the daughter of Angeles, with whom I study Spanish. She is a bilingual, just-about-graduate of the U of Madrid and has been helping me by, among other things, making a slew of phone calls to taxistas and B and B’s, and really in every situation of difficulty.  Without her I couldn’t even be bumbling along as I am.  She is amazingly smart, competent, efficient and reliable.  Anyway, yesterday, after my umpteenth complaint about the damn phone, she told me that there is a Movistar (that is movi as in mobil not movie) store in a town a 15 minute taxi ride away. Yes, Cristina, that  is where I will be spending part of my día de descanso.

Get taxi to go to Movistar store, a tiny little one person operation, wait in line a good while, but it was worth it. El chico there was really nice.  He told me that I did not want Movistar—and he works for them!!—and he escorted me, would you believe, to a shop down the street and around the corner where his compañero set me up with DIGI, which cannot be worse than Movistar—one hopes— AND I paid for 3 months at once!  Oy, now I realize that I only needed two months.  Oh well.  My first attempt at using Google Maps worked, so I am quite hopeful that now I have a functioning phone.  It will depend on the network coverage about which I am dubious.  BTW, everyone and I mean everyone here uses WhatsApp.  And now, so do I!

I am now at el Balneario de Corconte, a gracious, gorgeous hotel that has a spa, as the name implies.  The room, on a Saturday night, is $70.00, the same price as last night’s very modest hotel.  I will have lunch ($15.00 for two large courses, bread, a bottle, yes an entire bottle of wine, and dessert) in the elegant dining room, but am equivocating as to whether this requires washing my hair first.  I think not.  The frizziness sort of masks the swollen eye lid.

I did check out the start of the walk for tomorrow.  It was important to make sure that the new GPS was doing its job and that John’s instructions were adequate because the first part of the walk is, again, his own invention.  To his credit, he does provide better detail than he gave for yesterday’s disaster.  I can hardly wait for the part where, beyond the fence, to avoid the “dense shrub,” about which I know plenty, you “go through a pasture and have to watch out for the trenches running east to west.  These were dug by the republicans in the Spanish Civil War and mark a line designed to defend the road to Reinosa.”  To compensate, or not, there is a memorial opposite built after the war to accommodate (?  not my choice of words) the 300 Italians killed trying to defend the hill.  Abstention from comment.

Yesterday, when I checked in, the señora showed me how to unlock the outer door in the morning.  So, at 6:30 a.m. I did as she had instructed and tapped the thingee on the wall, only nothing happened; the door stayed locked.  I must have been making a racket because after a few attempts of pushing and banging, a tired looking woman employee in a bathrobe shuffled down the hall, and with a Dios mio finally got the thingee to respond and i was off to the hill where 300 Italians died only I had a terrible time figuring out how to get where I was supposed to be since John’s landmarks did not exist.  It was a frustrating mess but I did eventually get on my way without falling into a ditch.

Part of the walk was through a wind farm, which normally I would not like so much but at least the directions were not an issue here as they were, again, later on.

Despite continued directional challenges, today I arrived at 2:00 only to have a fresh batch of frustration when I discovered that phone is not working because the SIM card is locked.  It took many consultations and finally a friend of el dueño to finally learn that this is a safety feature of the card and, yes, the phone is working, after a fashion, after all.

All God’s creatures gotta eat:

 The route was one disaster after another, then, the last stretch, hardly before lunch even considering Spanish dining hours, was along a highway with no shoulder and this for a several miles. MILES!  I trudge and trudge.  At last, it is now about 3:00, a lady in a car stops and asks if I am perdida (lost).  She thinks I am supposed to be doing the Camino de Santiago de Compostela.  No, I tell her, I am not perdida, I am just schlepping along to Reinosa.  And then with the greatest amount of chtuzpah, I ask her if she is in a hurry.  She is not, so I ask her if she would drive me, even though she was going in the opposite direction.  She did.  Was that nice or what!!  I had already walked 18.5 miles and it would have taken me well over an hour to get to el Hotel San Roque.  So, being totally done in from the trauma of the morning and the seemingly endless highway walking, I graciously got into the car with la señora and had a lovely little ride along the ugly highway to Reinosa.

Once checked in, I was dying for a hot shower and some decent food.  There was no hot water, but lunch at the hotel, at 4:00, was excellent: judías con tomate (judías is the name for green beans, don’t ask) and grilled trout. Then I worked on setting up the new GPS, which had arrived safely from England.  Also needed time to get some supplies and honestly to recover form a few really hard days. With not a whole lot of agony, I decided to take the taxi with Rojita mañana and check out the start of the path from Corconte to Pedrosa de Valdeporres.

I had a lot of worries about this stage, because the instructions warn of a number of barbed wire fences “that need a bit of patience particularly if you are walking alone.”  Turns out they were not so bad.  Then there was this tiny village “where the signs disappear completely and beware as the obvious direct route is wet and boggy, and is avoided only if you approach the village from the southwest.”  What is he talking?  There was a lot of unpleasant wandering there and climbing over walls and stuff.

There are gates you have to go through that are like TSA check points.  You have to take off your backpack to get through, though, of course, the reasons are different:

And fields of flowers:

Finally get to hostel at 3:30 p.m., having started out at 6:30 a.m.  Hostel is reputed to have excellent food, but guess what?  I was too late to have lunch and that was that.  I did buy a magnum (double chocolate are the best) and two bottles of Vichy Catalan (sparkling water).

Oh, old, backup GPS performed admirably, but will have to bide its time, again, in the suitcase, after new one arrives.

Left Los Apartamentos in Prioro with a slam of the door.  Not that there was anyone to hear it, but it was a statement, in its own little way, nonetheless.  It was 35 degrees and soon after setting out, which, again took a bit of time because, well, it is often not easy to find your way out of these maze-like towns.  Soon after getting going, it started to rain.  Not the terrible English sleeting rain, but a cold, steady drizzle.  Not bad for walking, really, but it is always a pain to get out the rain gear and pack cover and don jacket and pants by the side of the road.  Back cover was put on inside out, but it did not seem to matter.  Hands were freezing, freezing, I tell you, even with wool gloves. Note to self:  next time, remember to put on waterproof mittens.  Anyway, very long climb at the beginning and another later on, and the walk was 16.5 miles, a lot of which was on track, which is hard on the feet.  Actually, I think the new boots, while awfully good looking, or at least they were to start with, are slightly inferior to the discontinued model they have replaced.  Soles seem just not quite as thick. Anyway, it was a tough day.

Apparently, I am not the only one who thought so:

Hostel in Camporredondo is very pleasant:  sunny room great view, and the  couple who run it could not be nicer.  While there is no grocery store in this townlet, one can buy ice cream at the bar.  Nothing is better than a Magnum—except maybe two—after a hard day’s hike.  OK, most people would say “a cold beer” instead, but a double chocolate Magnum is pretty darn delicious.  And yes, a second, this time, almond, followed.  Those treats really perked up the bread, peanut butter, jam, and an apple.

View of the day:

Thought these might have been wild horses, but their bells quashed that notion:

This explains Assyrian art::

Next day, 20 miles, muscles that run along side calfs very sore.  Had it not been for that, it would have been a nice walk.  Oh, except that the GPS DIED.  Got a low battery warning, put in fresh fodder, device would not turn on.  Tried another set and a third.  Nada.  GPS so dead that it will not open when connected to the computer.  This is like England all over again except this time, had to make emergency request to Ilene to try to get me a new one and send it ASAP.  Not all bad, though.  Route today was not difficult to follow, View Ranger is definitely helpful, and I have an old GPS that did crank up, but it could D I E any second!!

View:

Apparently, you are not allowed to pick mushrooms here, and you could get shot if it is hunting season, but through the gate you go:

Two ferociously barking dogs en route, fortunately, chained up.  Not much other drama until arrival.  Get to the apartamentos where I have been booked since Nov. 21.  Not a soul around, no bell, nothing, and my phone does not work.  Next door is a grocery store, open for ten more minutes, so I buy a few things planning to come back when it reopens at 5:00, only it did not reopen at 5:00, which would have made me very sad since I have a stove and was hoping to cook a couple of eggs, but, not surprisingly, the  stove did not work nor did the frig, so I was annoyed about that and not so sad about the eggs. 

Asked grocer man if he knew lady who owns apartments, and, if so, would he phone her. He said he would not because they do not get along, therefore she would not pick up the phone if he called.  Three old men were sitting on a bench outside the grocer’s. I explain my predicament and one, Pedro, the only one of the three who had teeth, and, by the way, a moustache, let me use his phone.  Reach lady who is in Leon or some such place and she claims to know nothing about my reservation.  She speaks a mile a minute and I am having trouble getting the gist, but I do get that she is very concerned about how much I owe her.  I tell her that I am using Pedro’s phone, so could we please get on with it.  At last, making another call,  she summons a friend who lives nearby and she, the friend, works things out after much in the way of issues.  For example, she had a devil of a time getting the keys to work, and the lights would not go on, so she had to fiddle with the fuse box.  FINALLY, after two hours, I am IN.  I tell the lady, again using her friend’s phone, that I had only wanted to book for one night, but that she had insisted on two, and owing to all the trouble, would she settle for one night’s payment, although I would do what she asked.  No, two nights, in cash, and that was it.  Muy desagradable.  At least the wi-fi works.

Then the suitcase,  It had not been not delivered.  It was still back in Salamón.  After several phone calls, made by lady’s friend, Gregorio, el taxista, showed up with the bag about an hour later.  He claimed that since the booking had not been confirmed, he simply did not go to get the bag in the morning.

Movistar, the phone company is giving me grief. Hope I can work this out tomorrow. The Go is not an option for long calls, such as arguing over a reservation tend to be.

Well, so much for the planned afternoon of R and R, but in the end, it all worked out.

Half hour taxi ride through lots of traffic, five hours in a bus, the first four and a half of which were as flat and dull as can be, and then, all of a sudden, the mountains, some still with snow, started to appear, another taxi ride of about 45 minutes, and voila you arrive in Campo de Caso, a tiny town with a less than bare bones grocery store, a small pharmacy, a panadería—the bread in Madrid was way better—an ATM, and a small store that sells cured meats.

I had planned to take a short, circular walk, but other than exploring around a bit, I just took care of business. That means making arrangements to get to the start of the walk on Sunday and cobbling together some sort of dinner.  Tomorrow I will take a real “training” walk in the mountains.  But, as for today, RINGS ON WATCH NOT ALL FILLED.

Actually, I am feeling quite disorganized.  I hope that soon, the daily packing and unpacking and meal making, such as it is, becomes faster because the way it is now will never do.  It’s kind of like those scenes in the movies where the guy has to clean and load his gun REALLY FAST so has to keep practicing until the sergeant says, “All right, soldier!”  Only I am both soldier and sergeant.

Today, that being not yesterday any longer, the plan was an eleven mile walk, but I couldn’t find the trail (there are no markers) or it was so overgrown that it wasn’t worth pushing through, so I decided to do a much shorter circular walk, the one I did not do yesterday, only I did it four times, once in one direction, three times in the other direction and once with a stupid detour.  It added up to fourteen miles. The uphill was significant.  Watch gave credit for 300 flights of stairs, and it might have shorted me as it does with miles when you use poles.

This walk allowed me to compare map apps and the GPS.  The GPS performed miserably, partly because the topo map of Spain in beyond inadequate.  Fortunately two phone apps:  Gaia and View Ranger, both having different good features, were useful supports.

It all begins at the Puente Romano:

Cows on the road.  All the Bossies wear, would you believe, cow bells?

They are well mannered, moving aside for you:

Yes, you are very beautiful:

 After much hillage, there is a reward:

Returned to B and B ready to scavenge for this evening’s repast only to discover, that, this being Saturday, shops close at 1:30 not to reopen again until Monday. I was so happy that I had forgotten to eat the last few little tomatoes last night since they really did liven up the tuna even though I had meant to open the sardines, which go even better with tomatoes.  Oh, well.

Excellent flight, slept almost the whole time, arrived at hotel at about 9:30 a.m., asked if it would be possible to check in, thinking that it would not be, since it hardly ever is, but guess what?  Not only did el señor allow me access to the room, but even upgraded me to a gorgeous suite.  It has glass doors, not windows, doors that open up onto a wee balcony on which you cannot sit, but you can look up and down the street.  Quite delightful.  This is a section of the ceiling in the “living room” and there is one just as elaborate in the bedroom:

The high point of the park was its peacocks:

This is his other side:

And here is the cock of the walk:

One is not allowed to take pictures in the Prado.  And the botanical garden was was more academic than beautiful, so no pix there.  After the Retiro, museums, and gardens, I took a self guided tour that I had found online, which was quite pleasant.  A small disappointment was that the tour promised an ice cream shop en route, but said shop no longer exists.  One can stop in various small fruit and vegetable stores, patisseries, and a variety of other tiny commercial establishments.  There are lots and lots of cafes where people enjoy leisurely lunches or something to drink.  The streets are full and buzzing.  Madrid is a charming city.

 Love them!  They set your stride, help push you up hills, stabilize you on steep downhills, act as balancers when you are navigating a stream or jumping over ditch or something.  They fold up and stow away very nicely when not needed.  Sadly, only one has an extra rubber tip, pero bueno.  No importa.