Camino Frances Day 6

I was really famished when I checked in the night before. There was a bar in the albergue although they had limited items on the menu. I settled for a serving of croquettas de jamon and 20 cL of Cocal Cola. The bill was expensive by peregrine standards though I didn't mind because of my hunger. The chef was having a siesta so I had to wait till 6 pm to order my meal.

There were only two other people in the dorm. I am pretty sure they were a couple for they shared the same bed and had sex a couple of times in the evening. As long as they didn't make too much noise it was no skin off my nose.

I stepped out the following day around 7 am and it was still dark. Almost every albergue has this one way door where pilgrims can exit the following morning upon checkout without the need to wake the receptionist. (Some albergues have only part time people manning. They come in around 1pm to issue the receipts and stamps and leave around 8pm)

The early morning chill was biting and it was drizzling a bit so I opened my umbrella. Except for the occasional whir of car tires passing by, it was just my footsteps that broke the morning silence. A haunting silence that would set my mood for deep contemplation.

Eventually the concrete turned into a country road signalling that I was leaving the town centre. Against a dark setting, my playful mind conjured scenes from old horror movies. One part seemed like a scene from Friday the 13th , I wouldn't be surprised if at any moment the eerie-masked maniac Jason would pop out, wielding a machete.

Dark clouds were swirling ominously up ahead and I was worried that the rest of my journey will be a rainy one. I took a shot of the background and I couldn't believe that I have been through those mountains the past few days.

I must admit that at this point my energy was sagging. I was beginning to question my stamina to make it through the endeavor.  When I started this Camino I purposely did not announce it in Facebook. I thought it would be embarrassing to do some explanation to my friends if in the unlikely possibility I would chicken out along the way. I did post occasional photos in Instragram though. At least in this platform I did not have much followers so the reputational damage would not be too hard should I indeed call everything off.

It was a good thing I actually stopped at Camponaraya because the next town with an albergue was about 6.7 kms. It would have taken past sundown had I trudged on the day before.

I was still about 2 kilometres away from Cacabelos town centre (the next major stop from Camponaraya) but decided to stop by a big waiting shed that greeted me on the town's boundary.  I removed the shoes off my feet to massage it. By now my socks were getting damp because of the wet ground. I had to remind myself of a pilgrim's warning not to get my feet wet as it would be a prelude to blisters. I pressed the soles of my feet on the cold stone floor of the shed. God, it felt so soothing.

There was nothing fancy about the waiting shed though I particularly remember this stop because I took a shot of this worm. Travelling mostly solo for the past few days made me more philosophical than usual. I was wondering at the pace that the creature was moving, how long would it take it to reach Santiago de Compostela. This creature had no idea whatsoever of the worms from the garden in my hometown. I sort of pity it in a way.

I thought that just like this worm we humans might not be aware of other intelligent creatures in the fringes of the galaxy and beyond. And that we could spend a lifetime searching but we wouldn't find them. That somehow made me sad.

I looked at the sign that was posted along the way, the names at that time were meaningless.

The town marker indicated that the next stop Pieros was about 3km, which at my current pace would be achievable in less than an hour.

I stopped at the next available bar to have my usual bocadillo de jamon and cafe con leche. After 6 days of travelling the bars had now become ordinary for me and  if I didn't take any interesting snapshot I would no longer remember which one it would be.

For a sleepy town that perhaps only has less than a thousand inhabitants, its churches were surprisingly ornate.

I might have passed by a couple of churches Cacabelos but sadly I couldn't recall much about it right now. I feel kind of guilty that I recall more vividly encountering a supermarket. The past two days (starting from Dia De los Muertos) were holidays so there was barely a market with an extensive selection that was open. So when I finally found one, I could not contain my joy. I bought a pack of chocolate biscuits-Filipinos !, some energy bars and a pack of Salami as my protein source.

There was a slight ascent on the way to Pieros. I met a pilgrim who was on his way back to St Jean Pied de Port. That meant he had been walking already for 900 kms. He was kind of reluctant when I asked if I could take a shot of him for posterity.

There was not much to see in Pieros but I was just contented that it had a water source, so I paused for a bit on a nearby bench and then I went on.

My spirit was somehow lifted when this magnificent view of a field full of colourful leaves welcomed me at the park of the ascent.  A trio of hikers from Hong Kong passed by so I requested them to take a shot of me with the plantation in the background.

The rest of the journey was a bit wet. It was drizzling now and then and I had to bring out my umbrella to ward off the rain drops.

I can't recall exactly now how I motivated myself to continue on but it was around half past 12 when I reached Villafranca del Bierzo. Judging from the number of establishments I knew that it was one of the major stops but because of my hunger and my tiredness, I was not able to explore much of the area. I decided to treat myself that day so I order a full set menu for lunch capped off with a glass of wine. 

I shudder at the thought that this was the stop of Robi the day before. Our gap was now almost 20km so I was already giving up on the idea that I would ever catch up with him. My main concern at that moment was to finish the camino.

Around 120 PM I stopped to massage both of my feet. Both my small toes are now starting to get sore, my leftmost  toenail turning purple already.

I continued on despite the mounting pain in my toes. I saw this monument of a pilgrim, St. James perhaps and my mind was brought again to the situation to continue with my journey.

After the town centre the path lead me to a side road that snaked around a mountain.

Yet again I encountered another tribute to a pair of fallen comrades.

Despite the somber mood I couldn't help but chuckle at the peregrine self-deprecating sense of humour as evidenced by this hastily scrawled graffiti.

The past few days were really cloudy and rainy so I was kind of happy to see my shadow in the late afternoon.

The next 8 kilometres or so were mostly along the road beside a mountain

By 4PM the path went to a country side where rows of thick-trunk trees lined the path. I was somehow curious to see some trees with the initial "JG" painted on it. These are my trees I joked to myself.

My shin splint was once again acting up. ( Looking back, I think the effect of the Ibuprofen has worn off). I decided to stop at Trafadelo for the night. 

For Day 6 I walked a total 23.3 km. I knew that there were interesting sights that day but by this time, the only thing that ran to my mind was just to reach Santiago safe and sound.

Camino Frances Day 5

The albergue did not have many pilgrims. In fact there were only the four of us in the dorm - perhaps an indicator that it is not a popular stop. Per my Camino app it isn't indeed, based on the available albergues and establishments in the area.  But for someone who had just walked for 7 kilometres without any good refuge or food source (not to mention on a limping leg)  the stop at Acebo was heaven sent.

I have been calling the pain on my right leg as just "pain" but finally I got the proper term for it, thanks to the German guy ( I presumed he was German based on his thick English accent) who told me its medical term- "Shin splint". Knowing its name doesn't alleviate the pain a bit but at least I could google it and look for ways to ease the pain. The German guy was kind enough to give me ibuprofen. He assured me that it would help alleviate the pain though I must not take it on an empty stomach.

I never knew the guy's name nor got really a good glimpse of him which I truly regret. He had the aura of a good uncle. From then on every story of generosity along the walk would always remind me   of him.

In hindsight I think my walk for day 5 was unbelievably easy because of the pain reliever he gave.

I had my laundry done in the albergue for 7 euros. ( 3 euros for washing and 4 euros for drying). Before the Camnio I drafted a rule of having laundry every days. The extra clothes I had made me extend it one day longer. I think having 3 sets of clothes would be a good number for the walk. Not too inconvenient but not too heavy either.

I recall reading in a forum somewhere that 2 is the optimal. But I thought of always erring on the side of caution. Something unexpected could happen on day 2 which could make you recycle the clothes. I think it is not uncommon for some backpackers to repeat their clothes, but I don't think I would want to go down that path.

In the morning when I woke up, I had a hard time figuring how to get out because the entrance door leading to the bar was locked. Fortunately the Korean girl has shown me a self locking door just beside the laundry area that lead to the exit.

It was surprisingly bright when I stepped out to continue my trek for the day. The breeze was chilly, I was reminded again that my stop was still on top of the mountains. The path led me to a pavement with tall grasses on both side. Once I had to retrace my steps because a glove fell off.

Unlike the day before, the path now was relatively easy because it was descending.  I saw a landmark that fell over and a pair of worn outs shoes was placed on top it as if a cadaver laid to rest, a tribute perhaps to weary companion that finally decided to stop. Pilgrims are a tad philosophical. I guess the walk makes one get in touch with a more philosophical version of oneself.

I continued. A war is raging between vega and carnivores and a particular sign reflected this.

There is also a war raging inside me. The part of me that wants to stop and forget about the whole thing. And the other part that egged me to go on.

Occasionally I would see a yellow sign paired with a blue sign that went the other way. I suddenly missed Chico, one of my companions in the Camino Portugues. It was from him that I learned what the blue sign meant-  the path to Fatima. I wonder if someday I will follow the path of the blue arrow. I thought about my expiring visa and how I failed to extend my stay in Spain. That somehow saddened me a bit. I would have wanted to stay longer but fate it seemed had other plans.

The walk was now surprisingly bearable and at that time I did not give credit to the ibuprofen doing its work which in hindsight I should have. There was something soothing about the wind that I took a selfie.

Further on I met a couple of pilgrims who who were taking a break underneath a tree. They were munching on a citrus fruit and offered a slice to me. I gladly accepted.

The next 30 minutes I was walking through a path leading down the mountain. I had an idea of publishing a book someday of this journey. I somehow regret not getting a photo along this part because the foliage was more on the yellow side than green. Finally I hit upon level ground - Molinaseca. A group of tourists - British I reckoned from their accent- parked alongside the road and viewed the surroundings. They asked how long I have been walking. They impressed to know that I have walked a 100 kilometres already.

If circumstances had been different I might have lingered a bit in the area. But I was determined to narrow my distance with Robi. So after a quick souvenir shot of the church and a stopover at a store to buy bananas and biscuits I continued on.

The path was now level although it was on a concrete road so it still gave a bit of stress to my legs.
I saw Ponferrada from a distance and couldn't believe how far Robi's stopover from my place was. Surely I could not have made it that far to this place had I continued on.

There was nothing spectacular about this shot here but I had to take it. It was during this part that got lost and took a wrong turn. I knew I made a big mistake when I ended up on a big sign that said no entry. Rather than walk all the way back I had climb up a gully by grasping on the exposed roots of undergrowth and brambles.

Finally I reached Ponferrada. It had an imposing castle that greeted the pilgrims in the city's entrance. I would have wanted to stay a bit but I had to remind myself that this was just a stopover and I had to catch up with Robi.

I went inside one of the churches in the town centre and took a photo of the pieta.

I made a mental note that the next I walked this path I would spend more time in Ponferrada. Further on I passed by a highway that led into a covered avenue with maple trees lining up on each side. It provided a refreshing canopy of yellow leaves. What was weird about this path was that for the first it led straight into a building. The dreary white halls reminded me sanitariums in horror movies. I wouldn't be surprised if arms of deranged patients would swing out of the iron grills. But the deadening silence reminded me that i was just alone. And that I needed to be more meditative than morbid.

The church right front of the courtyard  seem comforting, I wish it were open. I took a brief moment of respite and let the surrounding silence comfort me.

But I had to keep going. I knew that I would not be able to catch Robi (with about a 20 km headstart already) but I wanted to narrow the distance.

The villages in this part of the route are marked by signs of a shell, an arrow and a hand clasping an iron bar.

Once or twice, a cyclist would zoom by followed by a car. I presumed these are rich pilgrims who could afford to have a bodyguard follow them (and have back up plan of getting back to the car and calling everything off if they get too tired). Sadly I did not have that "chicken" button. I knew I had to continue.

It was already past 4 PM when I reached Camponaraya. To my horror , the albergue which I originally planned to stay was closed and the next town was 4 kilometers ahead. Fortunately a local informed me that another private albergue (which somehow was not registered in the Camino app) was available right ahead. I recall it cost about 8 euros but I didn't mind because I badly needed to rest.