August 24th

I was packed the night before and was on the street early. By six I was on the road out of town but after crossing the Rio Cea bridge the signage disappeared and by the traffic circle on the outskirts of town I had totally lost the trail in the dark. After a kilometre down a farm track in the dark I finally returned to the traffic circle. Retracing my steps and with the light coming up I finally spotted a rock arrow pointing the way probably placed by other pilgrims who had lost their way but who had generously taken the time to place the marks. Soon I came to another one of the ubiquitous traffic circles (the Spanish love building roads) and saw the arrows indicating the trail’s split. I followed the road through the village of Calzada del Coto crossing a railway bridge at the end of town where the road turned to a farm track heading to Hermanillos 12 kilometres away and the last town before the 21 kilometre stretch. It was a pleasant morning walk to Hermosillo’s and while I couldn't see anyone behind me I got the sense someone was there. I arrived in the village and found a cafe in the first building where the owner prepared me a nice breakfast. Sure enough about ten minutes later Arvy showed and then to my surprise John and John showed up proclaiming they were worried about me and thought they should check up on me. They also said they had passed David sitting in a rest stop changing his socks which he does every few hours to combat blistering.

Eventually he showed and we all finished up breakfast before pushing on. I had walked a few blocks when I went back to the cafe realizing I had forgotten my staff and it was an hour later before I caught up with David. J and J were well ahead and Arvy way back having lingered over his coffee. We seemed to be the only walkers out on the flat Meseta. The trail ran parallel to the rail tracks for three quarters of the day with the long fields of the Meseta stretching off to the cordillera in the north in an endless run. Along the way we kept coming on pieces of roman road ancient stones covered in lichen. They say you are suppose to be in touch with past life’s walking on this ancient stone but the best I could seem to summon up was a couple of past bill collectors.< Sometime in the early afternoon we walked into Mansilla de las Mula found the municipal albergue and grabbed a bed. Later that evening I had dinner with the same breakfast club and one extra Irish priest. The priest I had noticed earlier in the afternoon at a bar reading a Harry Potter book. I didn’t realize at the time that he was a priest and thought that was pretty funny in retrospect because I am pretty sure the Catholic Church frowns on the Potter books. Don’t need the competion I guess. John and John kindly picked up the dinner tab despite our protests so we moved into a bar paying around three Euros per bottle of Navarre Red and carried on till bedtime.


to be continued