Thursday, October 22, 2009
August 22nd
It was 9:30 when I got back to the dorm and the lights were out with people already sleeping. Not wanting to wake anybody I didn’t bother to pack my sack but it wasn’t any easier in the morning because people were still sleeping but they were going to have to get up shortly so a little noise didn’t matter. I had prepaid for a breakfast the day before which turned out to be a disappointing coffee and a small Twinkies all for 3 Euros so I downed the coffee and pocketed the cake and headed out. I was already in a bad head space because I had discovered my plug adaptor for the camera and IPod charger was missing. I must have left it in the plug in Ages. No IPod is a catastrophe for me. It was a quiet walk through four villages over twelve kilometres before I found an open cafe and managed an espresso with a ham and cheese bocadillo.
Next stop was Carrion de los Condes and by 11am I was there walking by the beautiful stone monastery where I met Bushido who walked up to me smiling but with a limp. I asked him if he was OK and he told me he could walk but that was it for today. The next stop along was Cadezadilla de la Cueza a long flat hot notorious 17 kilometre stretch. The guides all suggested it was better done in the early morning's coolness so I had a decision to make. I first poked around the town hitting the cash point machine then found a hardware store and managed to replace the plug adapter for my battery chargers which was a relief. A visit to a panderia and then I walked out of town and over a bridge looking down at a quick running river. An elevated preserved piece of Roman road was in a forested conservation area bordering the river and across the road was another beautiful monastery which had been partly converted into a classy hotel.
I was soon standing at the edge of town by a busy crossroads looking down a county road deciding whether to walk back into town or try the hot afternoon crossing. One thing I have reaffirmed about myself on this trip is I don't like waiting around. When I was a teenage back during the hippie thing I had a favourite poster. There were two vultures sitting on a branch. The one vulture looks at the other and says F#%* the waiting let’s kill something. Well that kind of philosophy has always directed my thinking so I watered up, put on my full brimmed hat and programmed the IPod to the soundtrack from Lawrence of Arabia and with tympani’s crashing, staff in one hand balanced by a dry baguette in the other I set off on my long march. The guide was right, seventeen kilometres of a basic track with no stops. In hindsight it would have been easy in the early morning coolness but it wasn't all that bad. At the three quarter mark a pack of female Italian bicyclists passed me, all lithe and tightly bound in those wicking fabrics. Well I am part of the human condition and what can a man say especially one three weeks out from his mate. I like to be honest in personal matters and unlike Clinton I did admit to inhaling and now like Jimmy Carter I must admit I too have sinned in my mind. The albergue was right at the end of the trail and to compound matters there was a pool. Of course the bike team was there swimming and frolicking and I couldn't help but think of Ulysses and his crew with the nymphs. I managed a bed by a window looking west on the second floor and after a shower and my laundry feeling every one of my years I drifted off into a nap fanned by a cool breeze.
The pilgrim’s dinner was down at a local hotel and here I ate with Arvy and Elizabeth two Swiss nationals. Arvy I had known for a few days while Elizabeth was only into day 2 of her walk. She told me her husband was retired and at home. I made a comment about how he should have come along for the walk but she told me no way she was walking to get away from him because since his retirement he was driving her crazy at home. Well that was easy to believe because she showed me her GPS and said she had to phone him her coordinates nightly. I told her to punch in the south pacific and really play him but she just smiled. After dinner I went back to the dorm plugged in some Peter Gabriel and was drifting off when I sensed someone beside me and smelt the fragrance of fresh soap. I opened my eyes and it was a young German girl I had met back in Belarado with her Spanish guitar carrying boyfriend. It was a case of young love and I couldn’t help but noticed how devoted she ministering to his bad feet. It was hard to tell who was prettier her or him and I wondered who was in charge. I watched her as she watched the sun set into a layer of soft pinkie reds and wondered if years from now when she was as old as me if this was one of those moments she would remember.
To be continued
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