Haloranch

In the morning as we were leaving at 6:40, the Dutch hospitalera chided us for leaving so early in the dark. “This is pigeon hunting season and the Spaniards shoot anything that moves”, she said. “Hopefully peregrinos aren’t on the menu,” I replied, and off we went. Shotgun blasts could be heard frequently over the next couple of weeks. The cool and partly overcast sky made it another great day for walking. Since we always walk toward the west, we had a great view of our shadows stretching across the ground as the sun rose behind us. Photo 329: Our slender silhouettes preceeding us on the approach to Najera. It’s about ten kilometres to Najera. The walk through the semi-industrial approaches is boring, but the old part of the town is much more attractive as it is squashed between the Rio Najerilla and the reddish-pink cliffs that rise up behind it. Photo 331: Najera We found a restaurant where we had cafe con leche (coffee with milk) and a bocadillo (essentially a subway sandwich) s...

Since it was Sunday, a day of rest, we decided to make it a short day of only 22 kilometres. It was another perfect day for walking. The citizens of Viloria de Rioja, the birthplace of Santo Domingo, made sure that peregrinos wouldn’t get lost. Photo 359: A plethora of arrows pointing the way to Viloria de Rioja. On the outskirts of Belorado I ran into a lady from Spain with flaming red hair that I had been seeing on and off for a week. She was ending her walk in Burgos the next day but planned to continue the Camino next year. Regretfully, I never found out her name. Photo 363: Our mystery “lady with flaming red hair.” By 1:30 in the afternoon I was sitting in the beautiful garden of the Albergue Cuatro Cantones (Four Corners), drinking German beer while listening to the haunting CD “This Embrace” by Kirtana . The albergue even had a small in ground swimming pool. Photo 365: Peaceful garden at the Albergue Cuatro Cantones in Belorado. Photo 366: Listening to Kirtana in this love...

The party in the streets was still in full swing when we left the albergue. Once again it was cool and cloudy which made for comfortable walking. Between Villafranca Montes de Oca and San Juan de Ortega, there was a long stretch through a pine forest with spectacular stretches of pink and purple heather. It was a visual delight. Photo 387: Field of heather. Photo 389: The seemingly endless rocky trail. At one of the small towns a van selling fresh bread pulled up. This is a common way for those living in small hamlets and villages to get staples and groceries. Bread, fish, meat and vegetables can be purchased from these “mobile stores”. I bought a loaf of bread that was at least two feet long and when Janos and Krisztina joined me a bit later, we ate the whole thing! Atapuerca was a minor stop along the Camino until the 800,000 year old bones belonging to a new human species, “homo antecessor”, were discovered in the nearby hills in the 1970s. Photo 398: Nearing Atapuerca. Althoug...

This was a somewhat sad day as the three of us decided to split up. Janos wanted to spend an extra day in Burgos to let his feet and legs heal and to do some sightseeing and Krisztina wanted to slow down the pace. So, they chose to stop in Burgos, 20 kilometres away, and I carried on to Tardajos, nine kilometres beyond. We hadn’t really been walking together in the traditional sense. Everyone had their own walking pace but we met regularly during the day to rest and eat, and always stayed at the same albergue. We agreed to email each other along the way and to meet in Finisterre in front of the church at noon on September 25. From Atapuerca we climbed steadily to the flat-topped summit of the Sierra de Atapuerca where one can see Burgos and the flat Meseta (plains or moors) that stretches endlessly west of the city. At the summit we added three stones to the steadily growing spiral of rocks on the ground. Photo 407: The flash doesn't do justice to the size. It's huge. These...

It was cold enough to see my breath when I left at 6:25 am and the sky was brilliant with stars. After a few kilometres I reached a rise and from the top I saw the seemingly endless flatness of the Meseta. Photo 427: The meseta beckons. But not in a good way. However, it really isn’t continuously flat; the terrain is periodically broken by deep valleys with a town at the bottom, and, of course, the inevitable steep climb on the other side. Hontanas, where I stopped for lunch was a typical example. 431: Approach to Montanas. Midway between Hontanas and Castrojeriz are the spectacular ruins of the Convent of San Anton. The Camino, as well as the highway, go right through the ruined church. Photo 436: Ruins of the convent of San Anton. Soon after, the ruined fortress overlooking Castrojeriz came into view. I felt really good and would have liked to continue walking, but the need to resolve the issue of my dwindling financial resources was paramount. Photo 442: Approaching Castrojeriz...

By 2:00 pm, I had arrived at the albergue in Poblacion de Campos. I showered and washed my clothes, had a beer at a local bar, and shopped for bread, sausage, and the inevitable bottle of Rioja. This albergue was a converted school house with 22 beds and a kitchen. The fee was by donation. Sadly, they would accept neither my half-drunk bottle of wine nor my witty banter as payment, so I was forced to part with some of my hard-won Euros. Photo 478: Schoolhouse converted to albergue. After 6:00 pm, only a trickle of peregrinos come into the albergue and this evening there were only eight of us, including Ken from Saskatoon, and two German ladies. We decided to pool our resources for dinner. The pasta with tomato, onion, mushroom and chorizo tasted great - despite Anna mistaking bicarbonate of soda for salt! Photo 479: Another delightful meal with great dinner companions. We had a bit of fun as Ken got a new wig. Photo 480: Nice hair! When I left Castrojeriz it was barely above fr...

Taking the scenic, tree-lined path along the Rio Ucieza rather than the gravel path along the highway added about two kilometres to what was going to be the longest day of walking to date. I didn’t see another person until rejoining the main trail about two hours later. The sun coming up behind me and the sounds of the birds and the river flowing beside me made it a glorious walk. From Carrion, an impressive medieval city, there was an almost endlessly straight and treeless stone path (17 kilometres) until I reached the tiny, one-street village of Calzadilla de la Cueza, tucked into a depression in the Meseta. Photo 490: The entire village of Calzadilla de la Cueza. The only exception to the featureless landscape was a mobile bar an entrepreneur had set up near the halfway point. I gladly paid his inflated price for a beer and a cola. Photo 488: Strange location, but very welcome little bar in the middle of nowhere. In the heat, the six kilometres to Ledigos seemed to take hours; ho...