Getting Lost on the Way

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Making Up the Distance

Last night I had stopped at La Faba, about 5km short of my original target, and if I wanted to stay on track, needed to get to Triacastela tonight. This didn´t seem too much of a problem, as the original stage to Triacastela was just over 20km, so 25km wasn´t going to be too hard, even if it was warm.

Getting Away

The albergue at La Faba provided breakfast, which the hospitalera had laid out sometime in the evening because it was there when I woke just before 6.00am. Beautiful home made bread and jams, as well as some other trimmings one doesn´t normally see in the municipal and private albergue. Got away around 7.30am, and enjoyed walking in the early morning birdsong in the background.

The early morning views back down the valley were magnificent. If I had walked this early stretch yesterday, I would have completely missed them.

O´Cebreiro

O´Cebreiro sits at top of the ridgeline that is the boundary between Castilla y Leon and Galacia. The actual boundary marker is a little east of the town. So this was the first Galacian town. Gone are the signage I had become used to in Castilla y Leon, which showed the layout of the town, where the Camino was, what facilities the town offered, etc.

Did not stop here. There were some interesting bits and pieces in the shop, but at prices that appeared inflated compared to those I had seen earlier.

Getting to the Descent

The high point of Camino today was Alto do Poio, and I made it by lunchtime, and when I ordered a bocadillo with cheese, the most enormous rye bread sandwich was produced. Saved half for later and pushed on for Biduedo, where the ridgeline the Camino follows down into the valley floor and Triacastela. This was relatively painless, and I stopped there to rest before the downhill slog.

Which Way?

When I reached the western edge of Biduedo, there was a confusing array of signs. There was a wooden sign as well as a mix if other markings, one in particular the cross that indicates the trail doesn´t go in that direction, so I didn´t. It was a little while down the path that I started to think that despite all the other positive indications, not many pilgrims had been down this path recently. So by the time I reached the village of Villars, which is not on the Camino, I pretty much knew that it was going to be an interesting afternoon.

There were advantages to going the wrong way. The trail down the mountain was generally well grassed, and delightful to walk on, so a large part of the descent was much softer on the feet than the regular Camino paths.

When I got to Villars, I continued to follow the trail markings on the basis that they were still going down the valley, and that was much better than climbing back up the several km and 300m of elevation. The prospect of a somewhat later arrival was definitely better than that.

The trail I was following then became quite interesting. It dropped right down into the valley floor, and began to closely follow the stream at the bottom. Then the stream disappeared completely, and went underground. The trail continued, but where it looked like the stream re-started, I kept uphill. This was a mistake, as I was to find out.

I think the first indications that I had left the marked trail were when I came to a gate, and then a little later when the trail disappeared completely at the top of a field. A quick look around revealed that what I thought was the stream appeared to be the trail, it was just covered with water.

In keeping with my view that down was better, rather than retrace my steps, I went to the bottom of the field, and improvised a way of getting under the fence with a 55li backpack without getting anything wet, and kept going. My boots were keeping the water out from the bottom, and while there was some water getting in from where my wet trouser legs brushed against my ankles, it wasn´t worth putting gaiters on at that stage.

After a bit of mucking around at the next road crossing about whether to continue to follow the trail, or just be boring an walk down the road into Triacastela, I chose the road. When I got to the edge of the town, I noticed that I had rejoined both the trail I had been following, and the Camino.

So for an hour or so extra, and about 5 or 6 km more on my days walk, I had a thoroughly pleasant meander through the Spanish countryside.

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Photos

La Faba
Side of path had collapsed overnight

La Faba
Looking back down the valley towards La Faba

Cattle
Cattle being moved to pasture