Heaven and Hell

Mon Sept 23  Rabanal to Molinseca.  26.5 km

Today was probably the most varied of the trip. Full of beautiful scenery, emotion, and a possibly the toughest  stretch of the Camino we have experienced. 

It started out pretty much the same as every other day. Up at six with the goal of being out the door by 7:00 am. This morning we were greeted with a smiling Tom Dooley Heath, the  11 year old from Australia who had taken quite a shine to Judy and Nick. He was to join us for the walk, while the rest of the family made their way later. We had met Tom the night before, and he was a talker, non stop at that, and my first inclination was that this was going to be a long day listening to him. Boy, I was to learn quickly just how wrong I was. 

The first part of the day was a steep ascent along an asphalt road, paralleled by a very rocky Camino path. As it was still dark and their were no cars on the road we stuck to the asphalt instead of risking a twisted ankle on the stones. One very cool sight was about half way up when we looked back and could see the headlamps of dozens of pilgrims moving slowly behind us. I lost my second pair of glasses of the trip in the morning drakness. We strolled along at a good pace before reaching the first coffee stop of the day at a rather rustic albergue in Foncebadon, a rundown town about 7 km out. After a quick recharge we continued on along a path that wound along the hillsides, on a path shared with cattle that seemed to have free range. This was some of the most beautiful scenery on the path since the Pyrenees, which always makes the uphill climb go easier. 

Shortly after coffee we reached the site of one of the main parts of the Camino, the Iron Cross, or La Cruz de Ferro. This is the one of the highest points on the Camino, and predates the Romans as a site of spiritual significance. For over a thousand years, it has become a place of remembrance, hope and letting go. Millions of pilgrims have left a stone of personal significance to them at the cross, saying a prayer or a wish for something dear to them, forming a large pile of stones, much of which has broken down over the years returning the stone to the dust it was formed from. 

We were prepared for this stop. Mary Lou had carried with her five stones, three from Little Maguadavic Lake in New Brunswick, and three from Toronto. The first stones to be placed  were in remembrance. Two stones were from Midge who passed away last November while I was in Belize, stones that were dear to her. The third stone was for my Fredericton friend Mike Bleakney who had died tragically in the Ottawa bus crash a few short days before. The fourth stone was for my brother Andrew and nephew Christopher who both died young in life. The fifth was for our dogs Tasha and Toby, loyal friends that we had let down in moving to Toronto. 

The final stone was one of hope. Selected by our friend Colleen from Toronto, the stone was placed in hopes of a miracle as she fights her way through that terrible disease cancer, and for her daughter Brianne. For the moment I cast aside my personal doubts and prayed with Mary Lou as they were placed. The stop was a highlight for Judy and Nick as well. 

We continued on from this point starting the downhill run. Young Tom had left his hat back at an earlier stop and I gave him one of our Canadian buffs, warning him that he would feel an overwhelming urge to start playing ice hockey. This was kind of the ice breaker for us. We had some great chats and this 11 year old blew me away. At first I had thought he was just repeating things that he heard at home, but the longer we talked, the more I shook my head. Every curve ball I threw at this kid he hit out of the park. This young boy knew more about a variety of subjects than I ever did, and I don't admit that often, and gave thoughtful and honest responses to every single topic we discussed, every question I asked. How the hell did someone this young sound like an adult. Once I got to know he family better, the answer became clear as all four of their kids were similar. Tom and I became good buddies over the rest of the journey, and I offered him much encouragement and a bit of advice here and there, that is, as much as I felt was not meddling in family business. I in turn learned much from him.

So down the road we trucked, with things starting to look a bit familiar to me. Now a few times previously on the walk there were places that looked familiar, that felt like I had been there before. I just put it off to seeing pictures on websites, or scenes from the movie. But all of a sudden I stopped dead in my tracks. There was a vista of the mountains with the wind generators in the exact place, the rock wall in the exact place, the drainage ditch in the exact place, and the mountain range in the exact place as a dream I had had the week before leaving for the Camino. It was down right spooky the accuracy of detail between the dream and the reality.  In my dream there was me, and another person that I don't recall, standing and marvelling at the beauty of the scene. Young Tom agreed to be the second  person for a picture. Call it woo woo if you like, but stuff like this is a regular occurrence on the Camino.

The next stop, just a few hundred metres down the road was at the Town of Manjarin, population 1. A man who fancies himself as a modern day Knight Templar opens a rustic Albergue that had no power, no running water, well nothing but a few beds and outhouse. Will would tell us later that he stayed there one night and they held a Templar ceremony that creeped him out a bit. It definitely was worth a visit though.

Even though  we were walking on flat ground before heading downhill he rest of the way, it was stinking hot and the walk was becoming tiresome. We stopped part way down the hill at the town of El Acebo where we said hello to the Freddy girls who were enjoying a well earned beer, and then stumbled on Juanita, aka as Hillary Clinton, whom we had not seen since Pamplona. Terry, her husband, had taken sick and was down and out for three days. We had heard that thirty or more people were in the same boat, likely picking something up from a tainted water supply along the way. It was great to see them, especially since it would likely be our last time.

After a beer, and recharge of water Nick, Judy, Mary Lou and I headed out for the final 10 km into Molinseca. Unfortunately we were to find out that there was a vertical drop of 800 m over this section, much of it on what is a mountain goat path. It is best described of three hours of hell. Hot, stinking hot; rocky terrain which caused more than a few injuries and a complete loss of sense of progress from the slow downhill pace. On the positive side, there were some spectacular views of the surrounding valley. We finally arrived at the Santa Marina Albergue after 9 hours on the move. Exhausted with a few new blisters. It was a tough day all round, there would be another again tomorrow, and little did I know that the woo woo train would come running full steam at us.

Pics Mon 23 Sept

    Always lots of animals along the trail.

    First place for a cup of coffee, about 7 km out.

    Judy, Tom and Nick ahead on the trail.

These guys were just wandering down the trail on their own.

    The iron dross. A site that predates the Romans as a place of spiritual significance.

    Spectacular scenery all morning.

    One of the many interesting characters you encounter along the Camino.

    This place stopped me dead in my tracks. The exact site , rock pile and all, I had dreamed of the week before leaving for the Camino.

    Directions!

    All morning there were views like this.

    Mary Lou starting downhill.

    The last Reston before the hellish descent. With Juanita and Terry aka Hillary and Bill.

Almost there.

    The goat path. Five km of it with grades up to 30%.

No Big Hero

Sunday 22 Sept   Astorga to Rabanal Del Camino.   21.4 km

We were back in the saddle after two days of mostly walking around Leon and Astorga, taking in the sights and partying. There was no more time off, no more breaks from the stages as we needed to follow the guidebook to the end if we were to make it to Santiago de Compostella by Oct 2. The walk at first glance appeared to be an easy one, with a gradual 200 m climb over the 21 km. we had been walking enough to know that there would be some steep ups and downs, but overall, should have been easy.

As with a lot of the sections, there were long stretches where there were limited facilities for a decent meal, though  you can always count on a cafe somewhere. Our group, which was down one with Will walking the two skipped sections, was loaded with water and snacks. The route for most of the way was either on the local road, or a path that ran along side of it. This often makes for some boring scenery, but that wasn't the case today with the mountains in sight.

Over the past few days I had a number of chats with Nick, about life in general of course, but got a lot of information on his background and work experience. He is an interesting guy. Nick started off in the Marines, and later the Reserves, in his teens as a PFC machine gunner. He was convinced the experience toughened up an otherwise passive individual. After leaving the Marines he entered the public service in child protection then ultimately the New York penal system. He had stories of his experiences there, and I couldn't help but wonder how someone with that background could end up so compassionate and unassuming. Nick also along the way developed an interest in the clergy and over the years while working full time got his Masters of Divinity, and became a Deacon in the Catholic Church. A couple of strange bedfellows we were. A devout Christian and a non believer striking up a quick friendship, feeling like they have known each other for a long time. 

After my chats with Nick, I took a little alone time to walk, and began tying our discussions into some things I had been chewing over for quite some time. Heroes. I have always admired people like Nick, those who went after something and achieved it. Like to think I do that myself. But I have wondered for some time now why when people talk about their heroes, I really can never come up with that person or people who I called my hero, or heroes. Growing up my parents were heroes, as they are for many: and my big brother Mike because, well, that's what big brothers are for; and of course Davey Keon because he brought my beloved Leafs their last Stanley Cup. But as I grew, so I grew out of heroes. Why was that? Was it arrogance, disinterest, cynicism... And then my discussions with Nick brought it all into focus. I don't need " no big hero". They are all around my life. People like Nick. Friends and family who fight through debilitating illness or personal  issues, a son and daughter that chased their dreams like they were taught, a wife who went back to school in her forties to get a second degree and then a Masters Degree, a sister in law who decided she wanted to be a professional golfer in her late twenties then became one, the blind man who works down the street from me who crosses  three busy city streets each day on his way to work,  friends who have made hard life choices and fought their way through the fallout. To paraphrase Al Pacino in "Any GivenSunday" , " the heroes you need are right there in front of your face". And I am good with that. 

As is the case on many days, heat was the enemy. We dragged ourselves into Rabanal del Camino mid afternoon, up hill in 93 degree cloudless skies. There was always beer of course, but the walk drained us of energy. Turned out to be a cool little town, like many on the trip but with enough differences to make it unique in some ways. 

The big deal for most of the pilgrims was the evening Vespers service at the church. Essentially, it is monks or nuns singing the Entire service. Everyone was pumped to attend, and like I said early on, I'd go along for the ride. While catching up on news, blog and FB at a local pub that had WIFI, we had our introductions to an very nice, very unique Australian family of six. I'll leave it at that for now, but they would become a regular part of our Camino over the following days. 

Oh, and by the way. If you get a chance to see Vespers, take it. I will add that to my list of once in a lifetime things.

Pics Sunday 22 Sept

    Typical way marker.

    Two typical pilgrims.

    Not a pretty sight. Fifteen minutes to prepare feet in the morning.

    The girls adjusting something.

Rick and Gaye through fisheye.

    Almost at destination.

    Barb and Pat seeing the light.

    Our introduction to Tom and Maya, two members of a very unique Australian family.

    At the evening Vespers...singing monks.

Hop Skip and a Jump

Sat Sept 21   Astogora 

Nick, Judy, Mary Lou and I met for breakfast to discuss strategy for completion of the walk. By now we have fallen into a comfort zone travelling together, quite enjoying each others company. Although they have a bit more time, we wanted to continue on. But what had become quite obvious was that ML and I did not have enough time to complete all of the legs on the Camino if we were to make it to Santiago de Compostella by the 2 Oct. We leave for London on the 3rd. In the end, the decision was to hop the bus that morning to Astroga skipping a 22 and 31 km section, allowing us to meet our deadline by sticking to the guidebook the rest of the way. So we joined the Freddy girls ( which has expanded by one with the addition of Beverly Morrell the night before) and headed out for the 45 minute drive. This meant leaving Will back a few days, a he was continuing to walk the sections we skipped. A bit sad.

Astogora is quite similar to the many other towns we stayed in, with two notable exceptions: it is a big chocolate making town, and instead of just one big cathedral, it had a second castle built by Gaudi. Disney should be so ornate. I am guessing that is where the term gaudy comes from, lets just say there is such a thing as too much. Not chocolate wise, there is never too much and we took full advantage of it.

Not a whole lot more to say bout the day in Astogora: a little bit of touring, a little bit of resting and a little bit of drinking: that is until a party broke out. We had talked upon arrival about cooking a dinner in the Albergue kitchen instead of going out, though nothing was formalized. When it became obvious that many had bought food, we pooled it all and decided to invite everyone and anyone to join us, and join us they did. Spaghetti was the main dish, and I volunteered to be the cook. While the rest were touring  the cathedral, I got started on the sauce, and by the time they came back the place was smelling great. Barb and Pat volunteered to be sous chefs and chopped up all the fixins that went with it. Mary Lou came in and rescued a relatively bland sauce by adding salt and a couple of olives, it was delicious and ready. I hadn't even noticed all the other activity so when I turned around, wow, there was a smorgasbord. Well done people. This was a great meal, a great time and full of music as we sang to the Ukelele played by our Australian friend Marie.

Just to give an example of how it goes on the Camino. There was a young German couple sitting on their own and one of the girls went down to get them to join us. They were reluctant as they did not have anything to contribute to the meal, but that doesn't matter here, and we set them at the table with a wine and a beer. About fifteen minutes later as we were ready to serve the spaghetti, there were not enough forks. As I was considering heading to the Supermecado to get some, the young fellow says " don't bother, I have a bunch of plastic forks in my backpack". Yep, the Camino answers again.

The Freddy girls took charge of cleanup and in no time all we were all in our bunks getting ready to hit the trail again in the morning.

Pics Sat 21 Sept

    At the bus stop with the Freddy girls.

    Not the cathedral.

    Bunk beds at the Albergue.

    Beer vending machine. yes, I said beer vending machine.

    This one man band made a big sound.

    Rick and Gaye from Oklahoma. Yes, they have seen  the musical many times.

    Communal supper that broke into a big party. Ukulele girl from Australia got us all singing. What a        fun night.

Good to Go

Friday 20 Sept.  Leon

First impressions of Leon were very very good. We entered from the park area that follows the Rio Bernesga and you could tell from the meticulous way staff were cleaning leaves and debris, the manicured hedges and trees and the way playground and exercise equipment perfectly matched the setting, that this City was a proud and well maintained one. 

According to the guide book, Leon began as a Roman military encampment in 29CE, and shortly after became a permanent settlement to protect the gold they were pillaging from Galatia to the west. Say what you will about the invading Romans, but they set out the urban framework and infrastructure for much of Europe that gives it the current charm and longevity. With the exception of Avenue Ordono that leads you into the old section, the streets are narrow with low rise stone buildings that are perfectly maintained even though they are hundreds of years old. 

Judy, Nick, Mary Lou and I headed directly to the hotel we had booked for the night. Will had opted to stay at the convent, which ended up being a bit of an experience for him as those nuns  " don't take guff". Assigned rooms, eating times, strict curfews, and not even married couples are allowed to sleep in the same room, just in case they might think of partaking in some nuferious activity. Strictly a no boinking zone I guess. We had a bit of trouble finding the hotel, but that worked out for the best as we stumbled on the best bakery cafe I have ever been in. There is no sense in me ever eating another doughnut, as I found the holy grail there. Sorry Tim's, but never again.

The gothic Leon cathedral is simply spectacular. Throughout Europe these things took hundreds of years to build, but apparently this was was done in a record hundred years. Look back at the pictures from earlier posts. We had been given a hot tip that it was best to see the cathedral before it closed for the afternoon at 1:00 as the early daylight shows off much of the church's features. So off we headed. 

The others always get the self guided tour, but as always I skip it as my viewing is under ten minutes. Quick look at the architectural differences from other cathedrals, check out the stained glass windows which still fascinate me no matter how many I see,  scan for any other unique features, then I am out of there to sip a beer or coffee while waiting for the rest. Right on que I finished and headed out the exit as planned. Then as the door closed behind me I heard it latch and there I was in pitch black. WT.... Out came the iPhone to give a little light and there I was trapped in a 5 x 10 foot former exit, with all doors locked from the outside. My first thought was " nice trap big guy". Then when I remembered we were good with each other, and this was my own dumb ass move, it was time to find a way out. After an anxious minute, in the end, I simply beat on the door to the inside of the church until a surprised kind hearted and inquisitive lady gently pushed open the door. Gracias seniora.

The afternoon was spent searching out a number of items lost or forgotten elsewhere, and finding some medical attention for three of the four of us. Judy for bug bites, Mary Lou for toenails and me for groin, calf strain and blisters. After three tries we ended up at the right place and lined up for service. A long story short, all needs were taken care of and there was no hernia. Rest, relaxation and medications. We were all good to go.

Spain does not have the same requirement for prescriptions as we do in North America. Many of the medications we have to see a Dr for are over the counter here. Constipated, bam, the pharmacist has a pill for you. Dizzy, bam, they have one for that too. How about some hydrocortisone. And if you are in pain, bam bam, here is some  600 mg of ibprophen. Oh, and that will be 1.80€. 

All in all this was a great day, and this would be a place to come back and visit someday. But in the morning we would meet at breakfast and map out a strategy for finishing the walk. We were running out of time.

 

More Pics From Leon Sept 20

    The sculptures on the outside of buildings are everywhere, and spectacular.

    Busy Leon street. 

    Even if you are a non believer, you have to admire the art and architecture of these centuries old       cathedrals. 

    Simply the best doughnut I ever had from this cafe. Chocolate topping with nuts and a chocolate cream filling. 

    Stained glass all over this cathedral.

    Will and Barb. Everybody , including me, has been quite taken by Will.

    Nick eating bulls tail stew, or as I liked to call it " cows ass stew". It was in fact excellent.

    Here comes Mary Lou.

    Did not know Councillor O'Brien had a place in Leon.