Camino Frances

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This is the story of our journey across the Camino Frances from St Jean to Santiago de Compostela by foot - Finally completed for those who have nagged us into it… writing the blog was almost as demanding as walking the route! Almost...

Anyway to answer the obvious we wrote the blog as we got sick of answering the same questions - no we are not mad, and yes we enjoyed it, and yes we would gladly do it all again. Why - well while we are both pagans, travelling ancient pilgrimage trail has great appeal, as in NZ while the tramping is great we don’t get to tread on Roman roads or sleep over the bones of saints, so we (perhaps naively) though why not. We didn’t expect (or want) to be forgiven for our sins, and just lucked out doing the route in a holy year so if we had claimed the religious completion certificate we could have got off purgatory Scott free.

Surprisingly given the only photos we initial posted being of manky feet, this entry has been the most popular of our blog ravings, and we’ve been told to just get on and finish the damn thing, so here it is, and as promised with more photos then just manky feet. For those of you interested in doing the route on bike, Frances’s blog - Fran the Man for her cautionary tale. We like to think she developed some respect for her olds after her winter bike ride on the Camino… And if you after helpful information to help you consider if you should undertake this trip then visit the Confraternity of St James web site for useful up to date information.

10 September 2004
Getting to St Jean Peid de Port
Including the Running of the Buses in Pamplona

We’ve included this entry as we’ve had a number of requests for details on how to get to the route (and what to take). While we walked the route in 2004, we had recent confirmation that this advice is still current, so if you are mad enough to contemplate this trip don’t forget to prep and pack well and chose carefully when to go. We went in autumn to avoid the extremes of heat and complete the trip before the rain (and snow) set in).

In preparation for our trip we had spent the previous 6 months traipsing around our local neighbourhood on a regular basis. At the start we averaged 50 kms a week (mainly in 2 hour walks after work), and over time built this up to over 150 kms a week with a circuit that included up to 5 of Auckland’s mountains (Mt Eden, One tree hill, Three Kings, Mt Roskill and Mt Albert). As moderately fit 40 and 50 year olds we figured that regular daily walking was the best preparation for the trip as it helps acclimatise to the daily pounding our feet would receive on the trip. Plus it was enjoyable and out dog loved it, even though he wasn’t able to come with us on the trip.

Physically we probably did more then we needed to, and gear wise we definitely took way too much - packing as if we were going on one of NZ’s wet and tortuous tramps) with serious packs and boots and around 25kg of gear each (our packs alone weight over 3.5kg!). We could have got by with light comfortable sneakers and lightweight day packs and 10 to 15kg of gear. Things we would definitely take again include:

* Light pack, light comfortable hiking shoes (socks that will wick moisture away from your feet), and jandels (for end of the day).

* Underpants with flat seams, and thermals. Layers are the way to go to build warmth when you need it. We used Mac Pac interwool as they are flat seamed, odour resistant, fast drying and supremely comfortable! And trust us you don’t want chafing seams in unpleasant places.

* Medical pack including dehydration sachets, pain killers and vaseline - vital for your feet.

* Ball of string and a sharp knife, just cause you should always travel with ‘em.
* Lightweight parka and sleeping bag, you probably won’t need them but if gets windy or rains you’ll want the former, and if you have to dos down ‘cause beds are in short supply you’ll be glad of the latter.

* A broad brimmed hat, lightweight trousers and long sleeved shirts (as you are always walking in one direction you want to avoid getting the weirdest one sided tan imaginable and if you are sunburnt you can’t walk). Only pack of couple of clothing options and check that you can hand wash and dry them overnight.

* Water bottle or camel, on most days carry 2 litres of water with you, along most of the route you can fill up as you go - don’t bother buying bottled water and don’t be one of those dirty pilgrims that litter water bottles along the route. You may chose to take some food with you each day, fruit and some carbs, but don’t bother with cooking pots and carrying heaps of food as you can stop and eat as you pass through the numerous towns.

* A good guide book (useful to help you plan your day, but in most cases you can just follow the arrows),a dairy and pencil, and a lightweight camera, digital is great for this.

Forget the sticks - they make you look like a right pillock, are next to useless to use and pilgrims waving sticks at dogs is the greatest cause of dog bites. By all means take a scallop shell along if you want to identify yourself as a pilgrim, but after a few days walking the pilgrims shuffle will identify you better then any shell could.

One piece of prep you shouldn’t short cut is to read widely on the Camino, as its origins go back to the 9th century there’s are lot to read and the more you know the more enjoyable the experience will be - nothing worse then finding out there are the remains of a saint, amazing roman tiles, or a templar castle back in the little hamlet you have just left in your wake. We’ve not added too much on the historical bits we tracked down (even though this one of the main reasons we undertook the trip) as what interests pagans like us, may not be what you are after.

You can start the Camino a number of ways, traditionally it was by putting foot outside your door and going from there. We started in NZ by undertaking the 30 hour trip from Auckland to Barcelona (via Singapore and Frankfurt). After a week in Barcelona including checking on progress of the Sangra Familia, we caught the train to Pamplona working our way up to the Camino Frances. We found the bus station easy enough and were not put off from the fact that it was deserted (the various ticket stalls only open for short periods and in most instances you buy tickets direct from the driver).

We checked out the best route which was via the Montanesa bus service, which run a 6 pm (18:00) bus from Pamplona to Roncesvalles. While waiting and seeing the other pilgrims also trickle (obvious from their shorts and sandals as much as their sticks and shells) we also had to be on the look out for taxi’s running through the bus depot. Not close enough however as Hel ended up with her foot being run over by a taxi when did when one of these nuts decided to ensure her pilgrimage suffering started early… luckily it wasn’t too bad, just flattened and bruised.

We arrived in Roncesvalles at 21:00, and joined the queue to gain a pilgrim passport (credencial del peregino) a the church, before heading up the road to the pub and grab a cab to take you across the border to Saint Jean Pied de Port like we did. Take note that Spanish officials will only issue you a credencial if you are actually starting your walk in Roncesvalles.

Given we really wanted to include the Pyrénées in our trip we made the picturesque trip over the hills to Saint Jean, and could not help wondering how long it would take us to hike back up and over the mountain range the following day. By the time we got into Saint Jean (around mid night) everything was pretty much shut up tight but we found ourselves a run down hotel that reminded us of Faulty Towers, with a friendly night porter who gave us directions to the Camino for the morning.

11 September 2004
St Jean Peid de Port to Roncesvalles
26 kms walked today, 26 kms total

Saint Jean Pied de Port means “Saint John at the foot of the mountain pass”, and we thought it was a very apt place to start our walk. Peid is also close to the Spanish for foot so in Hel’s confused mind it was always “St Jean of the foot port”. At this point is worth mentioning that despite having spent considerable amount of time in Spanish speaking countries, neither of us is fluent in anything other then English. Hel has school girl French and Latin, coupled with appalling Spanish which doesn’t get past ordering coffee and beer… typically she speaks English every fast and “foreign” which is a garbled mix of every other language. Scott is a master in the art of international sign language, no nothing sanctioned by the deaf community more a comedic mix of facial grimaces and finger pointing… but somehow we get by and had many an animated conversation with locals on our various travels. One thing we did learn from our brief trip through France this time is that the French do not like being spoken to in bad Spanish.

We set off from St Jean in the weak dawn light and tripped down the cobbled rue de la Citadelle and over the 15th century bridge and through the Porte d'Espagne. España here we come… but first there is the small mater of the Pyrénées to contend with… Given we started at 180m above sea level, we climbed up and up thee Route St Michel mostly on narrow country roads, flowing the trusty yellow arrows up what is the D428 (with a little French guide dog leading the way) to 1440m before crossing into España at Puerto de Ibana (where Charlemagne heard too late Roland blow his horn as the moors attacked) and then down through the beautiful birch forest via the Route Napoleon. We leave the road behind us and the route is a lovely track much more the like what we expected / hoped for.

The day was cloudy which provided a good sun block and a cooling mist as we when higher and still higher, all the while reconsidering what we had packed… It was probably just as well that it was cloudy as otherwise we would have realised just how far from the top we were.

Finally and somewhat deliriously, we came out of the forest and found ourselves at Roncesvalles. It had taken us 8 hours, but we had walked our first 26 kms. Clutching our all important credencial du expiede which clearly identified us as undertaking the Camino a pie (on foot) we headed off to the albergue S’Conventus Hospitalis Roscidevallis (which does not accept bike or “supported” tourist pilgrims), to find a bed for the night, and have a hot shower and before heading up the hill for a well earned beer.

The rest of the more earnest pilgrims headed of to the church to attend the pilgrims' service and benediction, we could hear the beautiful strains of the monks singing the Latin benediction. We had decided that as pagans, we would not be hypercritical and gawp at functioning churches preferring to leave these to those who used them for their intended purpose, while we went to celebrate the spirit of the Camino at the local tavern.

12 September 2004
Roncesvalles to Trinidad de Arre
36.5 kms walked today, 62.5 kms total

After being woken rudely at 6am by the glare of the refuge lights being turned on to turf people out, we set off for the day. Hel managed to stub her toe on the granite steps and had the first signs of blisters to go with the taxi flattened foot. Still, we were in good spirits and shared the light of a local Basque gent who was very impressed with Kiwis, he was 65 and had meat an 80 year old compatriot of ours who had started the Camino a few days before us. Our torch bearer was of the opinion that New Zealanders where all Ed Hillary types who set off to conquer the world on foot.

As the Refugio in Larrason was shut we had planed on staying in the nearby pensions in Akerreta rather then in Zubiri (old leper hospice) as we were aiming on doing 25 to 30 kms a day. We are not sure if people stop in Zubiri to take in its gothic bridge or because according to tradition, can cure an animal suffering from rabies, if it passes around the centre pillar of the arcade three times.

However we missed the turn off completely and ended up walking through Iiárraz, Esquízoz, Larrasoaña. Aquerreta, Zuriáin, across the Arga River alongside a beautiful Romanesque bridge and on to the albergue in the old 14th century hospital in Trinidad de Arre (10 hours walking in all).

On top the hard climb the day before and the heat, it was too far and Hel’s feet were completely torn to shreds, bleeding and blistered despite her wearing boots she has happily tramped in for years with no sign of blisters. We figured her feet were swollen in the heat and this was the likely cause. She bandaged them up and took pain killers and said no more about them.

The Refugio in Arre was not too bad, but as Arre is was basically an industrial suburb of Pamplona there is not a lot to see, and even less places to eat. While Hel slept, Scott when off to a late dinner (be warned nothing is open in Spanish towns between 3 to 8pm) with an entertaining group of Chileans. The Chileans are looking forward to getting to Irache where legend has it a local vintner has set up a fountain of wine free to refresh thirsty pilgrims. Our fellow young Israeli Camino had joined us in the long haul, despite spending most of the afternoon resting under a tree with a bottle of wine. Strange who you run into on an ancient catholic pilgrimage.

13 September 2004
Trinidad de Arre to Obanos
28.5 kms walked today, 91 kms total

The aim for today was a short walk, basically to get as close to the Iglesia de Santa Maria de Eunate as possible so we could include this mysterious and beautiful Romanesque church on our trip.

We stopped in Pamplona (taking care to avoid speeding taxis) to mail home surplus goods - Hel decided that she really didn’t need good shoes and a frock for dinner at the paradores at the end of our journey. We couldn’t find the correros and were rescued by a lovely nun who took us by the hand and lead us from the Plaza de Torros, to the correros via the municipal plaza which she wanted us to admire, Hel managed to use her newly acquired Barcelonan saying “Vali, Vali, Perfecto” which was greatly appreciated. 3kg lighter we resumed our walk, having figured out a short cut to get back to where we left the Camino, we discovered this was not to be, a gentleman from Leon insisted on leading us back to the start of the Camino on the edge of town and we learnt that there was no short cutting permitted on the Camino.

We got our passports stamped at the university and walked out passed Cizur Menor before heading up to the El Perdón pass with its distinctive pilgrim metal cut outs. They are strangely appropriate in a countryside that has modern windmills on every windy ridge.

We called it a day in our targeted destination Obanos, in a newly outfitted Refugio built in one of the character full old stone houses.

14 September 2004
Obanos to Lorca via Eunate
32 kms

walked today,123 kms total

We back track 5 kms to track down the turn off to Eunate which is hard to find, despite our guide book staying it is a spur from Obanos, turns out we would have been better diverting from Muruzábal where they have a nice painted sign, on our way to Obanos yesterday. Still well worth adding the extra kms on our trip. Along side the church at Eunate is a lovely little Albergue with the weirdest little stone cell toilet imaginable. The sunflowers around the church had done their dash (shame as it is such a pretty postcard) but the colonnade of arches around the octagonal church are amazing and standing in an open field glowing in the golden morning light it still makes a very special view.

We slowly make our way back to Obanos and head on to Puente La Reina, Hel’s feet are really gone now, every toe is gone and they look like peeled grapes. Heels and pads gone too with 50 cent (3cm plus) sized blisters across them joining together for complete coverage…. After only 4 days on the road. She doesn’t say much, just winces and takes her pills.

Puente La Reina is where the route from Roncesvalles and the route from Somport join. The Camino crosses the beautiful Romanesque bridge over the river Arga gives the town its name (i.e. Queen's Bridge) It is also known as the Bridge of the Peregrinos and what ever you call it, it is an 11th century medieval gem. We stopped for a coffee and to use the internet in a flash bar/café in town… we think the folks back home are under the impression that we are on a long pub crawl as we hop from bar to bar, but unlike the English tradition of smoke filled watering holes and booze barns, the Spanish bars are small local cafes that open early in the morning to serve coffee and croissants to locals and needy pilgrims.

We get our first taste of Roman roads as the Camino progresses to Estella. We stop and eat our oranges in the centre of Cirauqui and watch a troupe of Russian dancers setting up, they are not impressed by an audience of a couple of scruffy sandy pack wearers, and we mooch off to scramble over the Roman bridge at the edge of town.

Lorca is closed. Hel finds a fountain to soak her feet and we check into a very pleasant private refuge where we luck out with a habitaciones dobles, our first private room on the route and don’t have to share bunks with other snoring caminos.

15 September 2004
Lorca to Los Arcos
29 kms walked today, 152 kms total

Left Lorca late-ish, around 8am when it is light, funny but we are used to 6am being light in NZ this time of year - damn Southern hemisphere seasonal adjustments. We walk the 9 kms into Estella (through Villatuerta, with its 12th century Romanesque parish church of and bridge). before we find anything open for breakfast, and suitably refreshed come out of town and pass the Monastery of Irache, and the local fountain of wine, too early in the morning for a ruff red, even if it is free. We have a sip and full our flasks with fresh water (also in flowing abundance) and make out thanks to the demi-gods of fountains and drink dispensing machines.

We walk past a Spanish “Butlands” and run into mad Jean, one of the Canadians doing the trip, the old bird was heading back to town to grab a sandwich, she must really move as we have been walking a fair clip and had passed her first a few days ago, odd that she has overtaken us again without us seeing her. On our way through the forest we come across another local walker this time searching for his hat we take a break and have lunch and mind his pack for him while he goes back in search of it. Poor chap is carrying a pack even heavier then us and he’s got a few years on us as well, made of stern stuff our fellow pilgrims. We make it Los Arcos in good time and check out the old gates and walls before settling into the local refuge for the night. Scott’s knee is starting to pack in, soon we’ll look as old and decrepit as the rest of the pilgrims.

16 September 2004
Los Arcos to Logroño
29 kms walked today, 181 kms total

Up early, we pass through Sansol which is closed, and have coffee in Torres del Río, apparently this town holds one of the treasures of Romanesque architecture in Navarre, the church commonly know as the Linterna de los muertos (Lantern of the dead) with its Mudéjar influences (built by the Order of the Santo Sepulcro in the 12th century). The strange name goes back to a local custom for treating dead pilgrims (in the hospital or nearby) where the locals light a fire / lantern on top of the church. Lovely little town.

We thought of stopping for the day in Viana (other cute town with a fortified main square and narrow streets) but press on to Logroño despite it being another 10 kms down the way… something about a pressing time clock ticking away and us needing to keep our run rate up. Still it is pretty hard on the pair of us but after nearly a week in we are starting to settle into a natural walking and stopping rhythm.

We cross over into the province of La Rioja which is hot and dusty red, the grape harvest is ripening temptingly on the vines around us… we have left the woodland rocky valleys Navarre and the countryside is now flat with phenomenal views. We wander along enjoying the sight of the Camino stretching before us as we mildly bake in the heat. About 3 kms out of town a local offers us ice cold water from well stocked chilly bins in the back of his ute. We toast to the thoughtful demi-god of fountains and mobile drink dispensers. Scott is beginning to have a religious conversion and we move the demi-god up a level in the pantheon of our personal icons.

We walk into Logroño along the oldest street of the city, the Rúa Vieja, to reach the albergue which is big, modern and part of the university. It is located across from the police station which we guess helps control rowdy pilgrims. Scott picks up a Logroño. We join the hungry pilgrims milling around the town looking for a meal, Scott joins a growing queue outside a local steak house which has a tempting photographic menu. He (and the other suckers) are led on by the sign which promises it will be open at 7pm - unheard of and untrue - when he eventually gives up at 8.30 it is still not open, not at 9pm when the rest of the pilgrims are forced to abandon all hope and get home to the albergue before lock down.

Al lot of the walking now is on or next to the road (think major highway) as apposed to the old lanes and walking tracks we have enjoyed to date. And when we are not ducking articulated trucks we are being diverted by road works… not quiet what we expected.

We make pact that we will not be out in the heat of the day (i.e. past 2/3pm), and will aim to hit a town to catch the extended lunch break (from 1 to 4pm) so we call fill up on a delicious meal (5 to 7 course specials for pilgrims at heavily discounted rates - even some courses vegetarian Hel can eat) before we head to bed at the albergue. If we start at 6am we will have a couple of dark cool hours before breakfast and 10 kms comfortably under our belts, which will enable us to keep a good run rate. We also decided that rather then be penned with 300 or more snoring / farting pilgrims in these massive albergue, that we will try and get a cycle going where we stay at the smaller less spots along the way rather then the more popular route stops.

17 September 2004
Logroño to Nájera
29 kms walked today, 210 kms total

An early but confused start to the day. Hel’s feet are hurting so badly she can hardly walk down the stairs at the refuge. But after a liberal application of bandages and doubling the pain killer dosage she gets going, hobbling along and mumbling about how you can’t be a proper pilgrim without suffering.

La Rioja is not as well signposted as signposted as Navarre, and Logroño like most of the bigger towns / cities on the route is less Camino friendly. It hasn’t helped that they have a modern green belt operating around the town in a beautiful park like swathe or broad paths, active sprinklers maintaining the extensive lawns and trees. However laying things out the signs are more focused on cars rather then walkers and so it is difficult to find the spot where the Camino leaves the council park system. Even when we did find the right route we doubled back to check it was correct as the graffiti guard cleaners had erased all signs of helpful yellow arrows. So we walked extra, no wonder Hel was crying (as she waited for the pain killers to kick in). As it was too early for the bars, we ended up walking 15 kms before our well earned first coffee of the day (fortified with sugar to provide a much needed boost).

A highpoint of the day was coming across the renovated moors fountain with its dual arches and steps leading down to a cool pool (complete with fish). Hel took advantage of the unplanned stop to strip of the bandages and stick her bleeding stumps in the ice cold water. Heaven. Only problem was sticking her boots back on after her feet had decided to revolt and call it quits for the day.

We got lost again coming into Nájera (birthplace of Kings and court of the Pamplona-Nájera Kingdom), once into the modern outskirts of the town the good old yellow arrows went haywire, not this time due to the over zealous efforts of the town cleaners, but due to competition from local shops and B&Bs leading poor pilgrims a merry dance all over town. Close examination of the guide book directed us to cross the river and search for the albergue at the base of the cliffs (in the old Arab town centre). Hel was heard clearly calling out in her worst Spanish “dane ere est de aubergine?” to no avail.

Eventually we found the old town and the old refuge site, only to find no sign of where it was relocated. Eventually we tracked down the modern municipal albergue situated in a bleak car park. The refuge minder was a dead ringer for Pee Wee Herman, but along with the all important stamp, he also dolled out great slices of cool sweet melon, perfect end to a long hot day. Hel made herself at home with feet in the water of the albergue’s foot soaking fountain, cold melon in one hand, and cold beer in another.

We also discovered that we were arriving at the end of a bull fertility festival which helped explain the folk dancing and signs of festivals we had come across along our route.

18 September 2004
Nájera to Grañón
35 kms walked today, 245 kms total

Today was a critical point in our trip, Hel’s feet were too bad to go on and she needed medical attention and to rest them. Scott was keen on pushing on and did not want to wait. We were both concerned about loosing time and not finishing within the 5 weeks we had allocated. So after much debate, and given a stern talking to from the albergue staff, Hel stayed put and Scott pushed on. We made plans to meet in Burgos (an estimate 5 days walk down the road) where they had a pilgrim clinic which could offer aid to Hel who would be medically evacuated by local bus, while Scott walked the distance.

So at first light Scott was off down the road, while Hel stumbled to the local pharmacy for more supplies. The local albergue staff insisted she stay put for the day and move on the next day to Burgos. It soon became apparent why, it was the highlight of the week of festivities and the banks of the river bristled with paella pans as the locals made giant pans of the Spanish staple. The albergue set up tables under the shade of the willows and as the pilgrims rolled in during the course of the day they were served fresh melon, paella and jugs of wine. Hel sat suitably recuperating. The evening was topped of by several hours of fireworks accompanied by classical and local music exploding from the car park outside the albergue - fantastic, but oddly given the canon-fire level of noise of the 200 pilgrims asleep in the refuge, only a naughty handful (Hel included) sneaked out to watch.

Meanwhile Scott cracked on with a much lightened pack (having left the bulk of his goods with Hel to mind). Saying goodbye to his love before checking out the San Millán de la Cogolla sanctuary the Suso and Yuso Monasteries (6th to 11th centuries). He also made sure he found time to stop off and visit the chickens in the church at Santo Domingo de la Calzada, the town is named after a monk (later a saint) who dedicated his life to improve the conditions on the road. He built all by himself the Oja bridge and the road between his city and Redecilla, and despite being 300 years dead, inspired the Legend of the Cock and the Hen (a moral tale about a falsely accused pilgrim his son and a chicken dinner).

At the end of an eventful and historical day, Scott discovered that the tradition of locking pilgrims in and standing guard over them with arms is still going strong in Grañón, when he sat down at the bar only to be interrupted by a woman carrying two loaded pistols that she asked the barman to clear for her. Well he slept safe that night knowing that the locals were mounting such an active armed defence of the Refugio.

19 September 2004
Grañón to San Juan de Ortega
36 kms walked today, 281 kms total

Scott awoke on his birthday and duly set off in the pitch black. Leaving Grañón, he passed the Cruz de los Valientes (the Brave’s Cross), a local property dispute between people from Grañón and Santo Domingo over ownership of a field. Crossing the border between the La Rioja Province and Burgos Province at Redecilla del Camino, heading for Castidelgado, and the ruins of a monastery and a hospital dedicated to Santiago the Apostle. Continuing on through Villamayor del Río, Belorado, Tosantos and its Chapel of Virgen de la Peña, (set in ancient caves) before travelling on through Villafranca Montes de Oca and Valdefuentes, before finally stopping at San Juan de Ortega. The refuge in Ortega is the old Romanesque monastery built by Saint John of Ortega and his mate Saint Domingo, as a help point to the pilgrims who walk to Santiago de Compostela and is still in active use today.

Meanwhile Hel sucked in her pride and caught the bus from Najera to Burgos. Pee Wee gifted her some comfortable sandals left over from another blown up pilgrim to help her on her way so suitably shod in socks and sandals she shuffled off with an extra heavy pack to catch the auto bus. While waiting she ran into the legendary 80 year old kiwi who was still going strong (Ed would be proud). Once on the bus she also met up with mad Jean the Canadian who admitted she had been cheating most of the way catching the bus each day another 20 to 30 kms on to the next refuge allowing her to stay for free at the refuges (falsely claiming to be a foot weary pilgrim) while carrying extra weight for her friends which were at least walking. Well it explains how Jean was keeping up with us and. Its hard to be judgemental as each of us makes our own way forward on the Camino, however Hel smiles smugly when the bus driver dropped her off several kms from town with three packs to carry.

However Hel was less then smug after finally arriving in Burgos and trying to find (a) the medical clinic and (b) somewhere to stay. She did eventually find the Camino and followed it along with various directions to find the old army hospital which housed the medical clinic . It was shut. Having already worked over 7 kms across town crying and not wanting to move another step, Hel settled down on the door step to wait the 3 hour lunch break to end and the medicos to arrive. It was worth the wait, the doctor and attendants did an excellent job pasting up the damage, however they were horrified at the state of the slabs of meat presented to them and didn’t hold out much hope for the odd toenail.

Medical certificate in hand, feet well bandaged Hel hobbled down to the refuge (a nasty Lockwood construction in the local park manned by even nastier hostellers) and booked in for the night. Hel had been trying to find a local pension to stay is as she didn’t want to take a bed from a real pilgrim, but as she couldn’t work and the nasty hoteliers would only grunt and try and through her out when she asked them for help. Hel decided to stay put and try again in the morning.

20 September 2004
San Juan de Ortega to Burgos
28 kms walked today, 309 kms total

In Burgos, Hel went back to the medicos who redressed her feet and advised three weeks rest, failing that to use a vaseline based ointment to grease up the feet and let the toes slip over each other to keep them from further damage - now they tell us! They also gave her a list of clinic sites along the rest of the route, the Camino supports staff these free clinics for injured pilgrims as a continuation of the hospital care offered on the route for centenaries. Following the medicos advice, Hel picked up vaseline and alcohol Romano (recommended for shin and muscle twinges) and followed up on their helpful tips on where to find a good pension. She checks out of the tatty refuge and into a pleasant pub on a strategic corner of the Camino - leaving a note for Scott on the refuge notice board to let him know where to find her. Then indulges in the luxury of a bath and spent the rest of the day with feet up recuperating as instructed.

Meanwhile, Scott chewed through the remaining kilometres separating him from his injured Camino mate. He barely gave Agés and its ancient iron mines a glance and strode across the single span Romanesque bridge in prehistoric Atapuerca, on through Cardenuela, Orbaneja, Villafría and Gamonal, before finally arriving in Burgos, (walking in 3 days what the refuge staff said would take 5 days) to surprise Hel snoozing on a park bench outside by the aptly named Punta Brava. In the afternoon we amuse the locals by hobbling around town visiting El Cid and his Mrs and checking out the Cathedral (one of the most important in España) and its Condestable, Santiago and Cristo de Burgos chapels impressive choir and over the top façade which was further adorned by Gaudi.

21 September 2004
Burgos to Hontanas
31 kms walked today, 340 kms total

Up early in the dark guided by our new trusty torch. After getting out of Burgos, thanks in part to directions from the street cleaners who are very useful guides at ungodly hours of the morning. Passing through Villalvia (which was closed) before stopping for breakfast at a truck stop in Tarjados 10 kms down the way (apparently an ancient pre-Christian village that at one time had a hospital near the Church of San Juan).

Lots of road works on this leg of the Camino and more walking along a busy roadway, but still at least we are both walking, even if Hel is doing it with heavily greased toes (works like a charm) and attractive socks and sandals carrying her boots.

Suitably refreshed post breakfast, we push on to Rabé de las Calzadas and Hornillos del Campo here the road has reverted to a more characteristic Camino track and you can see for miles in front of you on the hot dry messa. And it is hard to make out the towns, which are now down in a valley as in the past they have been up on a hill (either way you start and end your days scrambling up and down into the town).

Made it into Hontanas, around 2pm and laid up in the new refuge. Hontanas claim to fame is that the local Antonian monks cured pilgrims suffering from the "fire of San Antón" -a disease similar to leprosy- by cutting off the infected members of the patients… Hel’s hoping no-one mistakes her toes for leprosy.

We have rejoined our young Israeli who was working hard to pick up a young Canadian on a bike, not very successfully - poor chap someone should have told him that a pilgrim walk was more likely to be frequented by hobbling crumblies like us then anyone hot looking for a good time. Actually we count as the young set on this route! We’ve also settled in with a number of semi - regular caminos (funny how walkers on the route are called “caminos” just as the way or road is called the Camino - when you pass another you cheerfully call out “Bein Camino” to help them on their way). There is the German pair - a couple of well preserved 60/70 year olds who stride away constantly talking as they march along in their walk shorts and sandals looking like they are just out for a Sunday stroll. Then there’s the walking clothes line, a Frenchman with half his clothes hung as drying laundry on the back of his back. The flying Dutchman has a hand cart arrangement (two wheels on long poles) that he and his wife literally fly along with. we’ve already documented the pseudo Canadian pilgrims who we last saw in Burgos just heading off to a concert of Gregorian chants.

22 September 2004
Hontanas to Frómista
32 kms walked today, 372 kms total

We are moving like a well oiled machine now with our up early starts and hitting town just on the end of the lunchtime break and before the stifling heat of the day turns us red and raw. It’s probably more apt to say “well greased” then oiled, especially Hel’s toes, despite the raw skin she’s like a new woman now we’ve finally got a way to stop further blistering.

After 8 kms of moonlight strolling we saunter into Castrojeriz (an old Celtic town, which was repopulated by Sigericón at the end of the 7th centaury), and arrive at the bar the same time as the bakery deliveries and the bar owner. While he makes us our morning coffee “un caffe negra un caffe con leche pour fa voure” it’s all in the annunciation mate…. We tells us that we have picked the best time to walk “June nothing, July nothing but the sun, August a trickle, September a flood, like that till the rains come and then nothing…” he reliably informs us. And he confirms yup, get to town before the afternoon bus comes in and the albergue fill up with pseudo pilgrims… Hel clutches her medico certificate self-righteously and slips a few more pain killers into her coffee.

On the way through the town we are rewarded with a spectacular view of the castle on the hill, we consider climbing up to take a closer look but can’t find an access route until on the way out of town, by then we are not to keen on adding additional kilometres to our trip and follow our latest guide dog out of town and across the valley (and are rewarded with the remains of an old roman aqueduct), and up the hill onto the messa.

We leave Burgos behind us and enter the Palencia province, passing through Itero de la Vega (who had a democratic system of local government even in the Middle Ages) before reaching Frómista and yet another large municipal refuge bursting at the seams, but still early enough to score a couple of mattresses on the floor in the hall way. And still as always clean hot showers to wash the dust of the Camino off us before we go and re-hydrate at the local bar. We take time out to enjoy a tour of the fabulous restored Romanesque church of San Martín.

23 September 2004
Frómista to Carrión de los Condes
19 kms walked today, 391 kms total

We make a solid early start, massing through Población de Campos, Villovieco; Revenga de Campos and Villalcázar de Sirga (great names these local villages) and motor our way to Carrion de los Condes and stop for brunch. However that’s as far as we get as Hel comes down with a bug. As it was too early for the refuges to be open and not wanting to spend the day throwing up in public, we book into the nearest hotel (which is full of Camino riders cleaning and repairing their bikes - Hooligans Scott calls them, but they are always cheerful as the wiz past us).

We had planned on going on another 17 kms of roman road - uninterrupted and flat, just like a picture postcard of the Camino. But instead of which we enjoy the short day, and a bit of tender care, nothing says I love you more then holding the object of ones affection long hair out of the way while she throws up and then lovingly cleaning and washing her and helping her to be comfortable even if she can’t and moans insensately. We feel we should add some reference to an architectural gem or story of a saint here or something, but sorry no all you get is vomit, at least it’s a break from rotting feet.

24 September 2004
Carrión de los Condes to Sahagún
38 kms walked today, 429 kms total

We are over half way to Santiago (14 days down, another 14 to go), and are right on target despite the odd set back. We suffer another one, a bit of a navigational melt down and instead of staying at a nice refuge in Terradillos de la Templarios, we end up madly walking on in the noon day sun and walk another 13 kms into Sahagun. But still we got to stay in another old church converted even if it is up 3 flights of stairs.

We leave the French women cooking dried pasta for their men folk - they are scathing of Spanish food and stupidly carry cooking utensils with them so the can slave over a hot camp stove at the end of the day when they have hauled the makings of their meals from one site to another.

Meanwhile we are stuffing ourselves with our usual pilgrim meal, beans and pork for Scott, Salad and fried fish for Hel, deserts are also as per norm - la flan and mellocotton (nothing like a fresh peach at the end of the day) washed down with jugs of the local wine.

Sahagún is famous as the birthplace of Franciscan monk Bernardino de Sahagún who was a missionary to the Aztec’s in Mexico and recorded much of what we now know of the about Aztec religion and culture thanks to his work on the Florentine Codex. Having read translations of this work prior to our Mexican adventures it was interesting to visit his birthplace, even though we could find little reference to him or his work (but it may well have been out of our footsore walking zone).

We also got to see a boxer (dog) waiting patiently for his owner to come home sitting on a narrow ledge / balcony. Spike our walking mate back home would never sit so still and patiently on a third floor balcony. Still nice to see his Spanish cousin.

At the end of the day Hel unwraps her feet, more blisters but smaller and controllable even if they are on raw skin and the medicos summary on her toenails is correct as it is lifting off leaving a naked big toe looking even more mutant behind.

Hel has improved but a number of the young bike riding girls are dropping like flies as the come down with a similar thing. Could be a 24 hour bug or in some of them it looked more like dehydration as they hadn’t sorted out their fluid intake properly, and unlike us they were walking / riding in the full glare of the sun after 2pm - big mistake.

25 September 2004
Sahagún to Reliegos
31.5 kms walked today, 460.5 kms total

Up early and our torch light attracts an old French woman who joins us to walk in its secure beam. We parted ways at Calzada del Coto, as she wanted to go the shorter way the Royal French Route that passes through El Burgo Ranero); and we wanted to stay with the Camino and the old Roman road (through, Calzadilla de los Hermanillos that follows the old Trajana Road built by the Romans). As we parted she was keen on naffling the torch, but the last thing we need to do is trip over a tree root. It was a smooth route, slightly longer but well planted with 5 year old plane trees which provided much needed shade. We made good time on the old N120 which is now all but deserted as all the traffic goes on the new motorway to the north.

Reliegos itself is a really cute little town, looks a bit like hobitville with all the wine bodegas mounded around the town. It was called a village that was called Pallantia by the Romans and is at the cross roads of three of their old military roads. Nice town centre with a bar handily located so we can sup our re-hydration fluids out in the shade of the square. Interestingly along with its distinctive wine cellars Reliegos claim to fame is as the site of a meteorite landing in 1947.

At this point of the blog you are probably wondering why we haven’t waxed lyrical about the marvellous scenery and the important spiritual aspects of the Camino… well we’ve stuck pretty much to our diary entries and what struck us most is that walking day after day, what kept us (and many other pilgrims we spoke to going) was sheer bloody mindedness. The way may be littered by those who drop out because it doesn’t match their unrealistic romantic expectations or they just were not prepared for the physicality of it. But those like us who got up day after day and set forth did so, not so much to get to Santiago, but because we had made a commitment and it’s not about great aims and being macho. It’s about the simple reality of washing your feet, applying unguents and ointments along with ones socks and putting one foot in front of the other. And that’s actually the joy of it. That despite the revolt of various body parts calling out for a softer life, you still have the strength of will and desire to put one foot in front of the other. And who cares if you do it 5 km a day, or 5kms an hour, that fact that you get up and do it day after day is what makes the Camino. You are the road and the road is the steps you take. Simple really - okay enough of the waffle. Back to the pain and suffering, or the cervessa in the park.

26 September 2004
Reliegos to León
25.5 kms walked today, 486 kms total

Another early start and we stroll off down to Leon. Scott’s leg has started to play up big time (foot and shin) on the other side of his dodgy knee. Great pair we are. Some people find religious verification in the pain they suffer on the route and unless you suffer you are not a true pilgrim. So while we haven’t found the former, we are certainly doing our bit of the latter. We stop, repack stuff so Scott’s load is lightened (guess who plays donkey again).

We are now in the heart land of España’s most important Romanesque monuments. We pass by Mansilla de las Mulas (yet another fortified village), and another sixteenth century Pilgrim Hospital in Villamoros and then gently descend the Portillo to arrive in Léon.

We arrive in León still in one piece, mostly, and check into the nunnery down the road from the Gothic gem of a cathedral before checking out the amazing stained glass windows. Léon has some amazing architecture, but we make a bee line for the Casa Botines, designed by Gaudi at the end of the nineteenth century - heavy metal, witch like turrets and unfortunately shut although the building still functions as a bank. In the early evening we joint the other hungry pilgrims circling around the town, we sneak out through the antique Roman city walls and find a Burger King open - a bit of a break from pilgrim meals - and oddly they serve beer in Spanish Burger Kings… the locals couldn’t work out why they had to buy the burgers in order to get a beer as they don’t need to else where.

27 September 2004
León to Urbanization
20 kms walked today, 506 kms total

After an early morning start that included coffee made by the nuns at the refuge, we ended up barely making it out of Leon before Scott pulled up lame. We decided not to risk any more damage and pulled into a nearby truck stop which was in the midst of serving a never ending lunch to the road workers which happily accommodated us. After a very long lunch we were in even a worse state for walking and so booked a room and spent the day resting up. Scott whose leg recovered quickly was frustrated as he wanted to go on but every time he put his boots on the pain would shoot up his leg making it impossible to consider.

Santiago is still over 280 kms away and we are beginning to wonder if we will ever make it.

Ed Hillary at least had tractors when he set out across the artic waste land… still us Kiwis are made of sterner stuff… yeah right we settle into a bath, read a trashy novel we’ve picked up, and snooze the afternoon away…

While Scott watches the Spanish diggers back at work on the road, Hel goes off to get the all important stamp from the albergue in Villadangos Del Paramo a few kms down the road. (Note this is more then a fixation with stamps, but if we don’t get our credentials stamped each day then we loose our ability to stay at the albergue). It’s not till later in our trip that we realise bars and restaurant stamps count… not just albergues….

Scott refuses to take a bus and rest a few days ahead while Hel walks on “What you think I’ll run off with a waiter - or a road crew worker and leave you old gimp behind”… well a lots been known to happen to pilgrims… But we can afford to slow down and take better care of ourselves as we have made excellent time and have a few days spare up our sleeves. It would also be very wise to use them to recover rather then blow ourselves up - this is the voice of reason we have both been ignoring for some time now. But most of the other pilgrims only do 15 to 25kms per day… wise pilgrims…

28 September 2004
Urbanization to Astorga
30 kms walked today, 536 kms total

Off early - Hel forces Scott to take pain killers before the pain kicks in so we march on past the rebuild refuge at Villadangos Del Paramo and on through the day, of course we take it easy and only do a few kms in line with our new look after philosophy… yip that’s right only 30 kms today for gimpy and stumpy…

San Martin del Camino is a blur but we do stop to admire Punte de Orbigo and its related pilgrim hospital… This is the bridge where the Paseo Honroso took place in 1434, a month long un authorised joisting tournament hosted by Suero de Quonones… you can picture the horses thundering across with pikes to bonk the opponents, with a central line keeping things in order. Apparently when one of the knights was killed as the church would not let him be buried in consecrated ground good old Suero bought some land next door and dug down and across to plant his mate in the depths of the church grounds.

We end the day coming into Astorga in time to check out Gaudi’s magnificent bishop’s palace and wonder why the church next door has miss matched towers… one pink and one brown… While Gaudi’s palace is perfectly formed like a witches castle, with wonderful stained glass, the chapel is all magnificent and imposing blues and reds, while the bishops breakfast room has pale yellows, pinks and greens in its floral glass work. Underneath the vaulting gives some clues to the masters soaring parabolic curves and madness…

The albergue here is a treat, a real old timer that has been repaired and turned into a suitable set of dorms for us weary pilgrims. Beer dispenser in the courtyard, bunks in the attic and a close line to dry ones knickers on - really useful architecture.

29 September 2004
Astorga to El Acebo
40 kms walked today, 576 kms total

Left early as usual. Magnificent shift in scenery all around us as we move from the flat up into the foot hills and mountains. The moon is full and as we leave the sky is glowing, slowly the sun comes up like a big red ball of fire setting the plane and the city of Astorga aflame.

Scott was nearly besides himself in pain. He could barely walk, and would not listen “It’s shin splints, lack of hydration, rest drink, takes salts and sugar in re-hydration complex, please - you can’t sweat it out without replacing it.” Hel may not be medically trained but daily doses of mild pain killers and conversations in broken Spanish with the medicos on the route had made her an instant expert… Being a bloke, Scott preferred to have a tisey that a two year old would be proud of and throw his pack down off the route. Hel scrambled after it and took the opportunity to repack the weight so he wasn’t carrying any… while Scott sulked.

Okay the tense in this blog is up the wing wang as we haven’t figured out if it is first person, third or a mix of view points… but if you can’t figure out which of us long suffering pilgrims wrote this version of events then you need more help then us!

We made it into a café in Santa Catalina de Somoza… great rural church, with moon rising over the bell tower / frame. While Scott sat sucking dry toast and drinking bad coffee (tip avoid the first mass café and go for the second smaller real thing up the road) Hel rationalised the packs and left the residual at the alburge and swapped Scott’s boots for the new comfy shoes she brought in Barcelona. Scott in new shoes and empty pack re-hydrated with sugar dissolved in hot water and strained through toast (which helped mask the pain killers dissolved in the mix), was off and mobile while Hel the new pack pony (carrying every thing including Scott’s boots) tramped along beside him. Café no: 2 was checked out and proved to be empty but had superior coffee and croissants to help us on our way and so we were off, delayed but mobile.

Fortified, drugged and carrying buggar all Scott manage to make impressive time, while Ee-ore marched behind him like a good little donkey. We marched happily through Rabanal del Camino and Froncebadon onto the Cruz de Ferno (look it up - donkey is tired).

The day was marred not only by Scott’s moaning but by bus loads of obnoxious American Tourists disgorging to walk the 500 m (or in most cases 5 m) to the top of the rock pile to have their photos take. El burro lost her temper and snapped at a fat yank who tried to push her out of the way as he wanted to have his photo taken with his equally blimp like family who couldn’t even make it up the rock pile. Hel who had carried her rock given to her by her daughter Franny all the way from NZ to this site (despite several pack purges) to lay it on the pile was not impressed and started on a very load and possibly obscene diatribe…some thing along the lines of “I’ve carried this rock for 700kms on bloody stumps and not lard arsed yank is going tell me what to do” while Scott who was slowly and gingerly picking his way up the pile yelled reinforcements from lower down “You tell him - It’s not Iraq!” A fellow Camino who was impressed at the performance came back up and took our photo on top of the pile for us…

After the high point, we started down the hill (mountain range) to the refuge, which looked like a powerless hippy commune in Manjarin with a long drop, Scott pointed out it had no bar or beer dispenser, no cold beer, no stopping. So we thought what the hell it’s down hill to the next refugio. Yeh right.

Still 7/8km more wasn’t so bad and someone had cunningly placed signs advertising a private guest house with vegetarian meals in El Acebo… ah the donkey was to be rewarded with quality digs and a good meal after her days efforts. Scott got the usual disproving look when the owner picked up Hel's pack to carry to the room… especially after he compared the weight with Scott’s. Still he gave up his double bed for us and made us a great meal washed down with some lethal grappa.

Dinner at La Troutera was great, but odd as we were joined by a Kiwi girl appeared from no where for the meal and an Irish pilgrim who we had seen and nicknamed Goofy earlier… he seamed disappointed that we were there and the conversation was about “home” as he thought he had scored a romantic dinner for two… sorry mate.

While waiting for dinner we got to watch the locals return from picking blackberries on the hills, their boxer washed himself in the fountain and shock himself all over us… ah Spike he would have loved this place. The rocky mountain sides, the faint fog and afternoon sun, quietness, stillness, no it wasn’t just the grappa, the place was magical.

Thursday 30 September 2004
El Acebo to Ponferrada
24 kms walked today, 600 kms total

Got off to our usual early start, despite a hangover from the grappa. We settled for a short walk to Ponferrada to give us time to look around the castle before settling in for a well earned rest at the refuge.

On the route down we rejoined Goofy with his double walking sticks and passed through a large rocky farmland area that looked like it had been recently burnt. And through a number of steep hillside hamlets. And checked out / whizzed through (does 5kms an hour qualify as whiz) Riego de Ambros, Molinaseca and Campo on the way.

Ponferrada itself was pretty cool, the info office was a strange box by the castle. But the castle itself was great, a real mix of periods topped off by the templar history giving plenty to fossick through, sorting out knights templor and which was the old royal palace,

With only 4 to a room the municipal albergue was a real treat compared to some of the bigger dorm style places we’ve stayed at. It even had a beer dispenser in the courtyard! We were offered the choice of the mountain or the fountain… i.e. view of the mountain or a room off the courtyard with the fountain… The refuge staff were horrified by the weight of Hel’s pack and gave the now usual disapproving look to Scott, along with a not to subtle lecture about how he should be grateful that he had such a wonderful wife who would accompany him on this mission, let alone carry his gear for him… ah bless those macho Spanish blokes.

The one down side of the modern refuge was the French couple who shared the room with us insisted on closing the window so we all nearly perished from stuffiness… Oh yes that and Scott got a blister so Hel has to continue being pack pony.

1 October 2004
Ponferrada to Pereje
28 kms walked today, 628 kms total

After figuring our way out of Ponferrada (how did we miss the iron bridge)… we settled on an average but respectable mileage which would take us to Pereje passing through Columbrianos, Fuentes Nuecas, Cacabelos and Villafrancia del Buerzo along the way. We chose not to stay at the albergue in Villafrancia as we passed it on the way into town, and after scrambling up and down the steep incline to get to the town for lunch - okay it was a steep road - we couldn’t stand walking back up over the hill from the town to the albergue so we walked on. Still it was a good place to stock up on some groceries and the conical roof tops were quant.

We made the mistake of going off route onto the newly signposted way - they do this, changing the Camino to accommodate new roads and local tourist interest but it’s just not right! The new road added more kms to the route and was really rough, stony and difficult going. This took a toll on us as we were sandal shod - due to blisters and shin splints… Scott’s new footwear was not cushioned and they were like walking on broken rocks in socks. Hel vowed to give up her walking sandals for him the next day and grease her toes like piglets to fit back into her boots (gotta be better then carrying two pairs).

At least we will be out of the major mountains soon, bit tired of going up and down over 600m several times a day. Why is it that the towns are all on a bloody ridge.

Pereje refuge new, well appointed and cute, a bit like snow white and the seven dwarves. However the volunteer looking after the place hogged the internet and showed no hospitality to the pilgrims in her care, or her young child… this however is an anomaly on the route as most don’t have computers but do have welcoming caretakers.

Hel amused the fellow pilgrims as after the usual shower and change into her now well worn sun frock, she had a hard time getting her feet going. This happens. After stopping for the day you realise you are at war with your body that wants to rest for the day and shuts down, while your throat is calling out for something cool and refreshing. Scott stood encouragingly at the end of the dorm calling “ Cervessa, cervessa freia, beer, cold beer” while Hel leaned forward to the point of falling over before her feet finally moved off the spot they had rooted themselves to and stumbled off in the all to familiar pilgrim shuffle. The rest of our room mates fell about laughing and clapping all to familiar with the problem.

2 October 2004
Pereje to Hospital de la Condesa
29 kms walked today, 657 kms total

So much for the end of the mountains. We climbed all day from 450m to 1300m to get to the top of El Cebreiro, the Celtic old town. As we finally reached this high point we started singing “we are the champions, we are the champions” like a pair of warn out old Queen fans.

However earlier in the day we were more like puffing billy’s choosing to stay on the road rather then cut down and back up on the walk way. This mean that at one point Hel ended up in a drag race with a cyclist. While most of the hooligans passed her by and stopped at the ridge with Scott to wait, one struggled with the steep incline. Hel increased her pace and beat him off, he stepped on the pedals and passed her, before she dug in and marched passed him, several more times they trade the lead in this tourist race, before Hel marched triumphantly up several meters in front, enough time to throw off her pack and pull out an orange to eat with Scott while the struggling cyclist made it up to his mates who were most impressed.

The old Celtic settlement was overrun with tourist stops, as many buses take new pilgrims here to start the route as (as at 152 kms) it gives them a clean run to getting a certificate. But despite this, Scott managed to find a decent octopus seller - ah pulpo, and while chewing through the tasty snack pronounced he’d seen the profile and it was all down hill to Santiago de Compostela. “Down hill?” questioned Hel remembering the guide books descriptions of the hills and valleys of Galicia.

There is actually a new modern refuge at El Cebreiro which is well worth using, the French man we knew as “the walking clothesline” and several of our old Camino mates waved to us from here as we passed by… of course we had to push on…Still it as all down hill to Hospital de la Condesa where the small 18 bed refuge put us up. As old hands on the Camino we were in early and scored beds, while the eager newbys who came in later slept on the floor.

The say Galicia is all green fields and valleys. It certainly is beautiful but as the wettest part of Spain it is also dairy lands. Think of a hilly Taranaki, if you know NZ. As a result the Camino is more like a dairy race then a pilgrim track. Getting back into boots to cope with the cow shit is a damn good idea.

The Swiss poser we had collected on the way who was horrified at Scott washing laundry (woman’s work) turned up and was very sniffty over having to sleep on the floor and not having an iron to ensure his shorts and bracers were snappy. He called for a cab and then set off in search of a bus… so much for the Swiss mountain man.

3 October 2004
Hospital de la Condesa to Sarria
38 kms walked today, 695 kms total

Sunday and other early start, more hills rocks and a steep climb before breakfast. A long haul to Sarrua. We choose not to go via the Monastery at Samos. And go up through the forest through Tricasteka, San XII, Fureia and Calvor. Strangely despite getting into town at around 3pm the first two refuges are full (around 400 beds each) and we take refuge at the next. Mumblings abound how the refuges fill up shortly after the buses hit town… few of the new pilgrims are limping and non carry medicos that would warrant evacuation by auto-bus.

There are a few old faces among the crowds, the Mexican, a couple of French, the bald guy and a German woman. But we’ve lost the wild Aussie and his Austrian wife. Still we had a cold beer with a few new Aussies who were missing the sounds of their native bush birds, only an Aussie would miss the Magpie! The Swiss bloke was back - he’d found the bus and was holed up in a local private pension with a laundry. He has apparently being doing the Camino in stages, but no-one saw him before El Ceberbio and his earlier credencial bears a different name… Its worth a note not to flash your pilgrim passport around at this stage in the game as most of the old hands have used up theirs and have started on a new one and strangely the old one with all the well earned stamps can go missing.

Scott is still in sandals and Hel is in boots but we are holding our own and have our pain under control and a management plan involving good hydration and well greased feet to avoid further problems. Down to 113 kms to go.

4 October 2004
Sarria to Gonzar
30 kms walked today, 725 kms total

Another early start, there is a theme here that include another steep decent and climb in the dark. But Scott’s shin splint and blistered heel (one blister and he thinks he’s crippled) are not so bad this morning.

Lunched in Portomarin (22 kms) where the queue for the refuge is around the block. Stopped to admire the high damn for the reservoir and the moved but misaligned church of San Nicolas. Before having a late lunch.

We pushed on another 8 kms to Gazer, a nothing of a place really but with a nice refuge and a pub - heaven. Makes a good break from all the newbys who tend to stick to the marked map breaks and bigger towns. Also gives us a clear start on the route tomorrow. Caught up with the flying Dutch couple again still going strong. They can really clip along with there little cart and poles and have come all the way from the Netherlands. So while crippled we can’t be that bad.

We passed the 100 km mark today, all paint splattered and scrawled on. Lost more newbys today including a really obnoxious French couple with a guitar and a pair of Dutch dykes who are really annoying and keep on singing modern Christian deities. Ah well at least we appear to have ditched them for the night.

5 October 2004
Gonzar to De Melide
30 kms walked today, 755 kms total

Early start and 10/15 kms under our belt before our breakfast coffee as usual, we find what we think is an out of the way café to stop at before the obnoxious quartet come in singing… Scott manages to control himself and doesn’t smash the guitar over their heads. Ah well we always new we would have to share the Camino with this type at this stage so we shouldn’t complain.

Passed through Pal de Rei and Casanova today, not memorable, less fountains and points of interest then other places we have seen. More modern and built up, must be nearing the end.

Lebureiro was an nice little oddity, named after the field of hares that were supposed to be rampant here. Scott kept and eye out for them or failing that a tasty game pie, we settled for tasty empanadas with cockles or sardines.

6 October 2004
De Melide to De Arca
31 kms walked today, 786 kms total

Another moderate day ending in another uninteresting refuge packed with newbys. But we have lost the obnoxious quartet at the mind numbing nothingness one of the bug Christian camps build for the last papal visit at Monte de Gozo. So much for the mound though that is meant to reward pilgrims with their first view of Santiago, as they have bulldozed it for a parking and prayer site for the pope… so much for history.
We should be in Santiago tomorrow we could have got there today but chose to stay in De Arca as it was close enough to strike out and get us there comfortably the following day.

Strangely passed through a lot of eucalyptus forests on this final leg of the trip, the Aussies must feel at home.

7 October 2004
De Arca to Santiago de Compostela
17 kms walked today, 803 kms total

Up early and off with our torches, one old guy who was running this last part kept on getting lost in the forests and kept coming back to us for directions. He called us his “illimuinatous” which was very appropriate.

We passed the airport and marker to Santiago before a long haul through the suburbs which wasn’t well marked. But we found the cathedral, not so hard, but had a really hard time finding the place to go to get our final completion certificate. We walked around and around all side of the cathedral and asked around, but to no avail, other pilgrims gathered looked bewildered and shrugged their shoulders. And the faithful yellow arrows that had showed us the way just stopped.

Finally after much perseverance we tracked down the pilgrim centre on Ria do Villar… the scallop shells kind of gave it away. Despite much persuasion by the certificate awarders we stuck to out principles and insisted on the non-religious certificate of completion. Still we did trip through the Puerta Santa (which was open for the holy year) and popped in to see Jimmy in his crypt. Before lighting a few candles to the god of fountains and beer dispensing machines that kept us going on the route. Its true that every pilgrim makes their own Camino and we had walked the way we wanted.

This was the last day in our four week trip, it gives you some indication of the distance we covered! Surprisingly we’d do it happily again, put perhaps taking longer… longer to walk it, not the longer route although Scott is talking about staring in Le Puy (i.e. twice as long) next time, or doing the old roman silver route from Seville - Via de La Plata (over 1200 km), meanwhile Hel is looking for a foot bath.

A few days later
Jammed in cattle class
30 hours of flights and airport waits ahead of us

You know drill... you’re locked into a flying sardine waiting for the hostess to start the evacuation procedure and then the flight map comes up showing you where you are and where you are going… map of Europe big sea tiny NZ falling off the edge of the world… and then we look at the map… Europe is spread centre stage… and there is the mass of Spain, and we can see where we have just walked… its huge… even with the rest of the world spread across the screen you can see our march across the top of Spain - and we walked it - all of it (okay the forced bus ride is forgotten as are the bloody stumps and gimpy knee)… we would do it again in a heart beat!

When we got home we memorialised our trip by having a scallop shell tattooed on the site of greatest pain.

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Photos

Before
Feet after months of prep walking for the trip

First Aid
Rehyrdation good for Hangovers...

Vaseline
Vital for foot protection

Socks
Ones that stay up and wick!

Flat Seams
An absoulte MUST

Getting Started
St Jean Peid de Port, France

Follow the Arrow
Pyrénées, France

French Guide
Pyrénées, France

At the Top - 1440m
Pyrénées, France

Puerto de Ibana
French / Spanish Border

Still Deadly
Pyrénées, España

Coming Down
Pyrénées, España

Well Earned
Roncesvalles, España

Marker Posts
Navarre, España

El Perdón pass
Navarre, España

Follow the Arrow
Navarre, España

Get behind me Satan
Navarre, España

Iglesia de Santa Maria de Eunate
Navarre, Spain

Obanos
Navarre, Spain

Puente La Reina
Navarre, España

Roman Bridge
Navarre, España

Grapes on the Camino
La Rioja, España

Roadworks on the Camino
La Rioja, España

Rollo on the Camino
La Rioja, España

Fountain of Wine
Irache, La Rioja, España

Moors Fountain
La Rioja, España

Bull
La Rioja, España

Endless Camino
Burgos, España

During
This is what they looked like after the medicos in Burgos had tidied them up

Burgos Cathedral
Burgos, España

El Cid says - That way
Burgos, España

Hornillos del Camino
Burgos, España

Hornillos Rooster
Burgos, España

Castle at Castrojeriz
Burgos, España

457 kms to go
Castrojeriz, Burgos, España

Spanish Guide
Castrojeriz, Burgos, España

More Endless Camino
Palencia, España

Church of San Martín
Frómista, Palencia, España

Mellocotton
Sahagún, Castile & León , España

Reliegos
Castile & Leon, España

León Cathedral
Castile & León, España

Honourable Passage
Hospital de Orbigo, Castile & León, España

Rollo
Astorga, Castile & León, España

Astorga Refgue
Castile & León, España

Bishops Palace
Astorga, Castile & León, España

Bishops Palace Interior
Astorga, Castile & León, España

Murias de Rechivaldo
Castile & León, España

Cruz de Ferro
Castile & León, España

Castle Cell
Ponferrada, Castile & León, España

Castle Gate
Ponferrada, Castile & León, España

Looking for a Lift
Castile & León, España

Villafranca del Bierzo
Castile & León, España

Follow the Arrow
Castile & León, España

Wash Day
Lugo, España

190 kms to go
Lugo, España

Galician Glade
Lugo, España

Galician Traffic Jam
Lugo, España

Follow the Arrow
Galicia, España

Camino Scallop
Lugo, España

Are we there yet?
Lugo, España

100 kms to go
Lugo, España

Nearly There
La Coruña, España

Santiago de Compostela
La Coruña, España

After
This is a post script really, a reminder of the trip