Day 30 - 30.1 Kilometres

Burgos to Hontanas

Cz woke up still silent. Remember last post? Silent = pissed in Czland. But at least he was still walking. I figured I´d let him stew and walk it off. Walking, even if you hate it is good for the head. With nothing but time, distance, and movement on hand, your brain is free to wander, mull, and sort out all that needs to be sorted. And sort Cz´s must have. By midday monosylables happened; by evening, complete sentences. I expect a complete recovery by tomorrow.

The road to Hontanas is nearly flat. In my notebook, the only description is "more fields, more sun, flat lot o´nuthin´" Being a fan of flat nothing, (Wyoming is one of my favourite states) I found the landscape with its play of light across the yellow fields and blue skies among the prettiest we´ve come across.

We did pass though one small village , whose name I have forgotten, in favour of calling it "The City of Birds". We passed through there very early in the morning, even before the sun was properly up. No people were about yet, but the air was thick with the sound of hens, roosters, and songbirds all waking up to greet the day. The sky was shattered by swallows and starlings, competeing with the last bats of night for gnats and mosquitoes. Four storks stood sentinal on the corners of the old church´s belltower, looking for all the world like french gargoyles.

Hontanas is known for the quality of its albergues (the reason for walking so many kilometres). We stayed in the municipal one, which was in a gothic building with 18" or thicker stone walls. It was amazing how effective the thick stone was against the blistering heat (36c in the shade). In the building, I had to wear a long-sleeve shirt against the chill, even without any sort of artificial air-conditioning! I wonder what it is like in there in the winter (probably toasty as the common room sports a huge fireplace). Also in the common room, there were thick glass panels built into the floor. Through these panels, one could look down onto the original foundations of huge stones and heavy beams. Under one particular panel was a deep, dark hole. Logic says original well. Imagination says portal to another world.

Like many towns, Hontanas has a central fountain with drinking water. As a special bonus, the overflow from the Hontanas fountain splashes down into a little footpool. At maybe 6c, the icy water is just the thing for pilgrims´and locals´achy feet, and for birds´evening baths.

Because Hontanas has no supermarcado, we decided to splurge on the Pilgrim´s dinner. (you may remember from an earlier post - many restaurants offer a pre fix menu at reduced cost to Pilgrims. Generally this is 8-10 euro, which is cheap, but not nearly as cheap as grocery shopping and cooking at the Albergue) Halfway through the meal Rafe (Spanish Trail Family Dad) joined us. He then picked up the tab for all three of us as a thank-you for feeding him and his family a few days earlier. Not necessary, but much appreciated nonetheless.

Speaking of which. Cz has put together his Pilgrim´s Perspective on Trail Family. Onward gentle readers.

An (inexperienced) pilgrim´s perspective II(cz)

La Familia Peregrinas

Somewhere along the halfway mark you begin to see some familiar faces on the trail and at the Albergues. Most people opt to walk anywhere between 25 to 40 Km per day and the towns are usually spaced out in such a way that there are albergues in each. At this point, most get up at dawn and set out at around 6 am with the intention of hitting their destination town at around 1 or 2 pm in order to beat the siesta sun. That way one can rest up, do laundry, sleep, internet, and for the most part if you have extra Euros in hand, have a couple of cervezas. It´s a nice routine that conditions your body for the trials of the Camino. Routine keeps you going when your muscles ache and when you have to push on in order for the ache to go away. Routine reminds you of the ultimate goal which is to reach Compostela.

Part of that routine is also seeing your trail family...these are the faces of familiar strangers, acquaintences, and new friends you may see on the road or at a common albergue you stay in. You are never really sure when and where you will see them, since all it takes is for you to end up one town before or ahead your destination or for them to change their pace. It is quite an interesting dynamic - people passing through all with one common goal but for completely different reasons for doing the Camino, so you end up appreciating those times you do see their familiar faces or when you break bread with them at supper. All it takes is a sore foot or a deadline and those familiar faces end up as someone else´s trail family.

A brief description of my familia:

American lady and her daugher - We met them both at St. Jean at the starting point (we were all trying to find where to get our pilgrim passport and an albergue to sleep in). The mother had 2 weeks to do as much of the Camino, while the daughter only had a couple of days. It was nice to meet Americans at the beginning. We only saw her a couple of times, since she was on a short vacation and wanted to cover as much ground as possible, but we did bump into her at Burgos where she was spending her last day before heading back.

Korean father and his two sons - We kept pace with them at the beginning. Apparently there are alot of Koreans who do the Camino (found out that there is a high percentage of Catholics in Korea). Never really spoke to them, although the father had asked if my ankle was OK when he saw me sitting on the road fixing my shoes. He only spoke Korean, so there was alot of hand gestures to let him know that I was OK, though that did not stop him from asking his son where their muscle cream was (at least I think that was what they were talking about).

Danish Writer and Alice the Donkey - He is a travel writer who decided to take two years off to do not only the Camino de Santiago, but also the Pilgrimage to Rome (that starts at Canterbury, England) and the Pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Santiago by far will be the shortest. He is accompanied by the most loyal donkey I´ve ever met and also by his young daughter who is doing this pilgrimage with him. He has done the Camino a few years ago on foot with his newborn daughter in tow. When asked why he is doing this, whether this is for a new book, he said he is doing this to be closer to God. I have a hard time approaching this modern day prophet, but I can sure do appreciate him from a distance.

Dutch couple - Shared a table with them at Zubiri where we had a pilgrim´s menu at a local restaurant (and got a bit tipsy with them as well with the table wine). They both speak at minimum 4 languages, consider themselves leftists (husband said they probably wouldn´t let him into the US even if he wanted to go), and have just bought themselves a houseboat in Delft.

The Irish lads - Been mentioned here at previous entries, they have become our defacto trail partners. Met them a while back (can´t even remember which town it was) where they shared their wine with us. We met them again at Irasche by the fountain that had both water and wine and subsequently got a little tipsy at 9 in the morning. We walked together that day through the hottest day of the trail yet to Los Arcos (and sweated out the wine). We ended the day sharing our leftover pasta and they bought the wine and cookies. One of them had done the Camino in March, although that was only for 150 Km from Galicia - he learned from that experience what not to pack. The other has red irish hair and a lip piercing and has yet to get a blister. We´ve been sharing our dinners whenever we end up in the same albergues. Good card players and pretty fast walkers.

French Canadian Doctor - Met him in Viana when we stayed at the parochial albergue in one of the towers of a church. He spoke very good English, French, and enough spanish to be conversational. During our shared dinner, he doled out some advice on our common aches, strains, muscle pulls, and swelling and how to treat them. Apparently after dinner, Jess saw him setting up a temporary pilgrim´s triage with his bag of ointments, bandages, and syringes and treating the guests who came to see him. I missed out on this (although I saw him again later on and asked him the name of the ointment he used on his patients for the swelling). He was supposedly on vacation, but I guess a doctor is never really on vacation.

Spanish uncle and his two nieces - I´d say he was the trail father of the bunch. Extremely friendly and outgoing. He was accompanying his nieces and ended up becoming a surrogate father for a bunch of young pilgrims, including us. He always says his english is ¨muy malo¨though we can understand him better than when we try to speak spanish to him. He invited us to share his dinner with his nieces and 6 other pilgrims. We ended up cooking for him and his family a few days later. The nieces had to go back to Madrid after two weeks on the trail (after trying to convince their dad for one more week) and he, after a bad case of blisters on his feet, had to call it a day. The last day before he headed back to Madrid he was in good spirits and saying goodbye to everyone. I will miss him and his broken english.

The Hungarian - Very nice older gentleman with white fuzzy hair that on a good day made him look like a tanned and tall Albert Einstein. Doesn´t know any english at all, but was nice enough to give Jess a flower he found on the side of the trail and was a gentleman to ask for my permission in him giving said flower to Jess.

The Austrian - Only saw him once, since he was also on a limited vacation (and was covering 40 Km a day) and we ended up in the same albergue. Found out that he is a teacher in a village near Vienna, had extensively traveled, including a good portion of the US by car (NY, drove down to Florida, across the south to California, up to Washington, and then back across to NY in 8 weeks), and kindly invited us to stay at his place when we are in Vienna to see the Medieval Festival at his village.

Spanish girl - She is a postal worker with a very pretty name and she first helped us find the albergue in Pamplona. She was part of the ¨family¨of the Spanish uncle. She had strangers come up to her and tell her that she was ¨gorgeous¨and ¨rare¨. We had fun trying to find the spanish equivalent for the words. Mine was "undercooked."

French Girl - Very animated. She is like Olive Oyl on speed. Smokes like Popeye.

3 Singing Sisters - These were the nuns at one of the parochial albergues we stayed in. Before dinner they performed folk songs where one of them played the guitar and the other an African drum. After dinner, they had a benediction for the pilgrims where they gave us a star to light our way on the Camino and individually blessed us for continuing on to Compostela. I am always in awe of people of faith, and these sisters were no exception. They felt it was a privilege and duty to be taking care of pilgrims on the Camino. I felt it was a privilege to simply be in their company.

There is a point on the Camino when one stops being a tourist walking the road to becoming part of the family of pilgrims heading to Compostela. Whether it is an offer of assistance for an aching foot, an attempted conversation where neither party speaks the others language, sharing your leftovers, or simply walking side by side to keep pace to the next town, this act of invitation is the most important lesson I´ve learned so far on this pilgrimage. Mine was at the Pyrenees when my left leg completely cramped up so bad that I had to sit on the side of the road and a bicyclist, who was heading uphill, stopped, got off his bike, and gave me some of his muscle cream. Then he proceeded to mount his bike and start to pedal. I can only imagine how difficult that was to regain your momentum going uphill to stop and help a complete stranger (though at the time I was in too much pain to appreciate the gesture), but it was that gesture that I felt invited me into the community. I can only hope that I will be as gracious when my turn comes.