There are actually three route options for getting to O Cebreiro :
one is close to the highway, more low level and direct, but near traffic ;
another is a high level one, taking in an extra ascent of 700m ;
and the third is a more extreme mountainous one that encompasses three extra hills.
Jade and George’s Australian guidebook waxes lyrical about the last of these, so over the course of the past week, we had decided on this rather more demanding one. It was a tall order, considering that at the end of it, there was still the ascent of the dreaded O Cebreiro. (1400m)
As it happened, Hartmut was (quite silently) suffering his first injury…a deep and developing blister in the sole of his heel. So, last night (over an absolutely delicious burger in the main square with another couple of “final night” pilgrims), we all agreed on the medium difficulty, high level route.
We also opted for some “strategic planning”, which meant that we were only aiming for La Faba today, some 5km below the top. This still meant a 28km day, but we would already make a start on the final long climb of O Cebreiro, leaving the bulk of it for tomorrow when we’d fresh!
Genius!
Leaving Villafranca de Bierza was immediately tough. The thunderstorm that had been threatening last night had disappointingly not unleashed itself, (we had left the windows open just in case!) so the atmosphere was close.
The ascent was steep and unrelenting.
But for once, I was feeling strong and determined.
This was the beginning of my Camino “étape” that I have dedicated to my deskie, David, and this definitely honed my resolution.
I found a good steady climbing pace up the unremitting 45 degree incline and continued like this, without pause, for just over an hour. At the top of the first hill, I had to wait some time for the others to catch up.
There were beautiful views for our troubles, but there was also a huge and terrifying sound of live and static electricity noise coming from the overhead pylons. I even recorded it because it was so remarkable, but alas, am unable to post it here.
We met with a deliciously bright lizard who shot across our path into the roadside foliage! The peacock of the lizard world…bright blue, green and black! He underestimated the powers of my phone camera zoom and posed precariously on a twig.
Having read yesterday about a large, high altitude chestnut grove at this situation, didn’t prepare me for its beauty. It was breathtaking…somehow still so unexpected, yet spacious and peaceful. We sat for a moment and contemplated life.
After our hard-earned climb and plentiful rewards, we then faced a long and fairly steep descent into the next valley.
A slight detour along the way, to an enchanting ancient working village, which held the promise of an equally hard-earned bar, only brought us a disappointingly unanswered doorbell.
So we plunged headlong to the bottom of the valley towards the motorway, where there was only one bar (albeit difficult to find) that was open and welcoming! (Note the Solo Clientes photo!) By now, the sun had intimidated the clouds and sent them scurrying off to one side. Glorious sunshine. The calm before the storm.
I guess I wasn’t paying too much attention then to the state of play between sun and clouds, because I was too preoccupied with counting the number of times our road crossed over the same river…the tally was easily over 7.
The road also wound itself under and across the motorway several times.
So I was totally unaware that the storm, which had been brewing since last night, was resurrecting, ready to unleash itself.
Luckily I was in an overcautious mood and put my rain gear on at the first smattering of rain. As did Hartmut, but not so the gung-ho Aussies, who streaked on ahead with their shorts and “singlets” (as they like to call their vests)
The storm was a confusing one, because it came fast, but also seemingly undecided. Still the odd flash of blue sky ahead as well as the odd flash of lightning.
Having felt strong on my shin splints so far that day, striding through increasingly heavy rain and then huge hailstones, brought the pain back with a vengeance. After some kilometres of this, we all met and huddled under the eaves of an old shed. It was next to a tantalising, but closed albergue.
By now, there seemed little point in moving until the hail and rain let up. George was still in his singlet and shorts, saying that he was anyway wet through, so there was not much point in waterproofs… I could see his point, but we weren’t in the tropics and it was getting cold. We all togged up to maximum available waterproofing.
Suddenly I saw a lightning strike, and heard a simultaneous huge thunderclap, right in front of where we stood! The sound was deafening and made me scream aloud, with my hands to my ears and had me hopping off the ground. There was no mistaking it, we were in the eye of the storm.
Our impatience to move dominated over our patience for the rain to subside, so as soon as it showed signs of easing, we were off. Heads down, in a steady but determined trudge.
I was acutely reminded of the early days of my shin pain, when the others would be streaks ahead of me, as I took baby slow steps behind. But my “stork manoeuvre” was still proving invaluable.
We stopped at the next village to discuss tactics. We were still four villages (and 9km) away from our planned destination, La Faba. But there was little chance of making it there in our present mood and condition. We decided to aim for the village before La Faba, called Herrerìas which was only 4km away.
I quickly fell behind again. The next village, Ruitelàn, was only 2km away. And Herrerìas was another 2km from there.
When I’m feeling depleted, somehow that “2km marker” has a way of depleting me further. I suspect it’s psychological, stemming back to the first day of shin pain when I walked 35km to Hontanas (having discovered that Jade and George had gone back to Burgos). Then, that final “2km marker” just about killed me and that psychological damage is now becoming more evident.
Imagine my surprise and relief to see George hop out from behind a parked farm truck in a driveway in Ruitelàn, to utter the words “we’re in here!”
He led me into the back door of somewhere that reminded me of my oldest school friend Barbara’s cottage, Kilnaish, on the west coast of Scotland. I was immediately comforted.
This albergue was tiny! The sloping ceilings made everything feel even smaller. Check in was executed by a man with a shaved head and a massive knife scar up one side of his face. He looked mildly terrifying, but he had a friendly, almost impish, glint about him. I warmed to him instantly.
We were ushered into a 6 bunk bedded room, tiny enough to have to enter like a turnstile gate. But what a relief to take off wet clothes! And the showers were hot! Plus a bonus laundry service!
When Hartmut revealed his heel blister, Jade was immediately excited! It was huge and she knew the only remedy would be her technique of removing the liquid by syringe and then sewing some string into the remaining flaccid skin to prevent the blister from reforming. The skin would then form a neat callous. She performed the operation with skill and assurance, and not without a certain gusto!
A pilgrim’s menu was served at 7pm. A long neat table set for 14 people. There were a few new people! Always a treat to discover new faces.
At my end of the table, there were 3 people from New Zealand (a young couple along with her father), an American lady from Seattle, who had lived some years in Australia, and who had been holed up in this albergue already for two days with muscle injuries in her legs. I was also sitting in between two beautiful East German sisters from Leipzig, who we had leapfrogged all day. At the other end of the table were some familiar faces from before: a german brother and sister, some South Americans and a Spanish girl.
Our host had prepared a mighty feast and clearly prided himself on his food, as well as his ambience. He insisted on greeting everyone in their own language. He also had a great selection of music playing.
Hartmut was convinced he was modelling himself on the Dalai Lama.
I retired early after dinner, just in time to catch the cows being taken for a stroll down the main street before bedtime… (see pics)
Tomorrow, O Cebreiro. O dear.
Su-a Lee
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