May 25 - Granon, Redecilla, Viloria, Vilamayor, Belorado (Belorado to Burgos by bus)
Upon check-in yesterday at the monastery/albergue we were encouraged not to leave the next morning until after breakfast. “The Camino will still be there.” But since I don’t eat breakfast before walking I, and a hand full of others, sneak out around 6 a.m. It's still dark.
Leaving Granon - Does a bear.......?
This morning is not too hot. Not too cold. Like in the Goldilocks story, it's just right. I have my black hoodie jacket tied around my waist just in case there's a cool spell.
Not more than a mile out of Granon the call of nature is more urgent than normal. So urgent I'm not sure whether I have time to take off the backpack. After this many days on the Camino I realize lentil soup makes me uber poo. Not a problem. Just pull over and hide behind tall weeds like everyone else. I know the packet of bio-degradable wipes are easily accessible and at my fingertips. Business over with. Hiking pants zipped up and I’m off for a few yards.
Wait... what’s that weight swinging to and fro around the back of my knees?
I twist around my hoodie and find the contents of my business resting neatly in the hood. Yikes! I can’t believe my eyes. Is this a cruel joke? Or a nightmare? I whip off my hoodie in disgust and give it a toss into the weeds.
I look around. Is someone coming up from behind? Does anyone see me? No.
I stop to consider. I am littering. Should I try to clean this up and save the jacket? Not in your life! It would take days of hand-washing to clean up this mess. I’m humiliated with the contents of this natural act landing in the hood that kept my ears warm the day before.
I keep walking. I’m humbled with my humanness. Suddenly I’m laughing hysterically my shoulders bouncing up and down.
Previously I read many Camino guide books, but had not seen the part describing suggested hoodie #2 recycling techniques.
It is with regret I didn't learn until later that Nuestra Senora de la Calle church is located in the village of Redecilla del Camino. Our Lady of the Street (also called Our Lady of the Highways - protecting all travelers) is one of my favorite images of the Madonna and Christ Child. I'm reminded of the death of my late sister, Sister Veronica Roy CSJ, who was killed in a head-on collision between Salina and Concordia, Kansas.
I also think of the wise wisdom of Mahatma Gandhi, "There is more to life than increasing its speed." That also applies to my pilgrimage.
I stop briefly in Viloria de la Rioga, with a population of 70, to take a photo for my nephew-in-law who shares the same name as St. Dominic, who was born here. On to another village - population 50. This one is known for selling morcillas – blood sausages. I don't come across this on any menus but am assured this delicacy is as delicious as chorizo.
Well... onward. I found the terrain not arduous with few elevation changes. Today is an easy walk, aside from the Camino paralleling or crossing Highway N 120. One must be alert amidst heavy traffic. I walk about 10 miles without shelter from the sun. Arriving at the outskirts of Belorado I noticed the cliffs and read about ancient cave dwellings here.
Several locals give me directions via sign language on how to get to the bus stop. At a plaza I ordered tortilla Espanola, a common dish popular with pilgrims as it is easy to eat while walking. This time I sit and wait for the bus and enjoy the potato, onion, egg-like quiche. I've left the La Rioja wine region at Belorado. A billboard announces I'm now in the Castilla Y Leon region. The name comes from the many castles in the area, but is equally famous for wines. Since these are also carried by our local Trader Joes market I'm familiar with the grape.
I read that walking through the industrial part of Burgos at the beginning is boring and tedious so I was eager to skip this and take the bus. However, I found out the next morning of departure it is as bad as the entrance into the city limits.
Upon check-in yesterday at the monastery/albergue we were encouraged not to leave the next morning until after breakfast. “The Camino will still be there.” But since I don’t eat breakfast before walking I, and a hand full of others, sneak out around 6 a.m. It's still dark.
Leaving Granon - Does a bear.......?
This morning is not too hot. Not too cold. Like in the Goldilocks story, it's just right. I have my black hoodie jacket tied around my waist just in case there's a cool spell.
Not more than a mile out of Granon the call of nature is more urgent than normal. So urgent I'm not sure whether I have time to take off the backpack. After this many days on the Camino I realize lentil soup makes me uber poo. Not a problem. Just pull over and hide behind tall weeds like everyone else. I know the packet of bio-degradable wipes are easily accessible and at my fingertips. Business over with. Hiking pants zipped up and I’m off for a few yards.
Wait... what’s that weight swinging to and fro around the back of my knees?
I twist around my hoodie and find the contents of my business resting neatly in the hood. Yikes! I can’t believe my eyes. Is this a cruel joke? Or a nightmare? I whip off my hoodie in disgust and give it a toss into the weeds.
I look around. Is someone coming up from behind? Does anyone see me? No.
I stop to consider. I am littering. Should I try to clean this up and save the jacket? Not in your life! It would take days of hand-washing to clean up this mess. I’m humiliated with the contents of this natural act landing in the hood that kept my ears warm the day before.
I keep walking. I’m humbled with my humanness. Suddenly I’m laughing hysterically my shoulders bouncing up and down.
Previously I read many Camino guide books, but had not seen the part describing suggested hoodie #2 recycling techniques.
It is with regret I didn't learn until later that Nuestra Senora de la Calle church is located in the village of Redecilla del Camino. Our Lady of the Street (also called Our Lady of the Highways - protecting all travelers) is one of my favorite images of the Madonna and Christ Child. I'm reminded of the death of my late sister, Sister Veronica Roy CSJ, who was killed in a head-on collision between Salina and Concordia, Kansas.
I also think of the wise wisdom of Mahatma Gandhi, "There is more to life than increasing its speed." That also applies to my pilgrimage.
I stop briefly in Viloria de la Rioga, with a population of 70, to take a photo for my nephew-in-law who shares the same name as St. Dominic, who was born here. On to another village - population 50. This one is known for selling morcillas – blood sausages. I don't come across this on any menus but am assured this delicacy is as delicious as chorizo.
Well... onward. I found the terrain not arduous with few elevation changes. Today is an easy walk, aside from the Camino paralleling or crossing Highway N 120. One must be alert amidst heavy traffic. I walk about 10 miles without shelter from the sun. Arriving at the outskirts of Belorado I noticed the cliffs and read about ancient cave dwellings here.
Several locals give me directions via sign language on how to get to the bus stop. At a plaza I ordered tortilla Espanola, a common dish popular with pilgrims as it is easy to eat while walking. This time I sit and wait for the bus and enjoy the potato, onion, egg-like quiche. I've left the La Rioja wine region at Belorado. A billboard announces I'm now in the Castilla Y Leon region. The name comes from the many castles in the area, but is equally famous for wines. Since these are also carried by our local Trader Joes market I'm familiar with the grape.
I read that walking through the industrial part of Burgos at the beginning is boring and tedious so I was eager to skip this and take the bus. However, I found out the next morning of departure it is as bad as the entrance into the city limits.
Next stop Burgos
Burgos is a large city of 200,00 or so, overcrowded with more tourists and visiting school children then pilgrims, in sharp contrast to the quiet, small villages I walked through that morning and grew fond of.
Arriving at the bus station in Burgos I follow other bus-traveling backpacking pilgrims into the city center under the massive arch (Arco y Puente de Santa Maria) leading to the plaza near the Cathedral.
Nearby is Albergue Amigos del Camino de Santiago with a long check-in line. The facility is large and clean with automatic washers and dryers. Not only did I need to make up two days of walking time, but my hiking pants are in need of a vigorous scrubbing. I find it odd to locate laundry detergent sold in the junk-food vending machines.
Assigned to the fourth floor in a building with an elevator I feel this is plenty cushy for a pilgrim. Here I met Corien who is in the next bunk over. She took the train from Holland to Burgos and will start the first day of her Camino from here tomorrow.
The albergue is located in the heart of Burgos a block or so from the stunning 13th century Catedral Santa Maria. As one of Spain’s largest and most beautiful cathedrals, with its many spires, it is also a World Heritage Site.
Burgos is a large city of 200,00 or so, overcrowded with more tourists and visiting school children then pilgrims, in sharp contrast to the quiet, small villages I walked through that morning and grew fond of.
Arriving at the bus station in Burgos I follow other bus-traveling backpacking pilgrims into the city center under the massive arch (Arco y Puente de Santa Maria) leading to the plaza near the Cathedral.
Nearby is Albergue Amigos del Camino de Santiago with a long check-in line. The facility is large and clean with automatic washers and dryers. Not only did I need to make up two days of walking time, but my hiking pants are in need of a vigorous scrubbing. I find it odd to locate laundry detergent sold in the junk-food vending machines.
Assigned to the fourth floor in a building with an elevator I feel this is plenty cushy for a pilgrim. Here I met Corien who is in the next bunk over. She took the train from Holland to Burgos and will start the first day of her Camino from here tomorrow.
The albergue is located in the heart of Burgos a block or so from the stunning 13th century Catedral Santa Maria. As one of Spain’s largest and most beautiful cathedrals, with its many spires, it is also a World Heritage Site.
These two frescos appeared to be in excellent condition.
Pilgrims with I.D. receive a discount admission rate so I trot back to the albergue for my credencial, the pilgrim’s passport as proof, as if they can’t tell a pilgrim from a regular tourist. The entry fee was worth 3 euros, and an equal amount for the self-guided audio-tape tour. Surprisingly we are allowed to take photos and one of my favorite snaps is the cloisters. Other photos are of numerous carved statues, frescos, stained glass and altar pieces. A bit of history explains that Spain was under the influence of the Moors, which the warload El Cid fought against. He is buried here at the cathedral.
Marjie Baker, an art history major and friend from Tucson later visited Burgos with her husband within the same week. How I wish I would have stayed behind a few days to tag along and listen to her academic comments. But no. I’m on a deadline.
Is this where I get the answers...or do I already know?
As I stroll through the cathedral, as well as along the Camino, I wait for messages of enlightenment. Why did I make this pilgrimage? Where are the answers? Perhaps they will come at the end of the journey. Perhaps there is not a void to fill. Perhaps I have been following my soul’s purpose all along. But I know there's lots of room for improvement. I’m filled once again with gratitude for the opportunities I’ve had in life.
A fellow pilgrim with foot problems said a doctor close to the bus station diagnosed his problem as tendonitis. He tells me approximately how to get to the clinic. I find my way to the clinic and make an appointment for 4:30, and then don't go back. I feel bad about this for a minute. I didn’t want another hour of waiting and doubt they could tell anymore then the Urgent Care doctor in Tucson. (Once back home the orthopedic surgeon took x-rays and diagnosed possible arthritis. Not tendonitis. No shin splints. I still suspect a stress fracture.)
I spend the next two hours walking within the city and see a posting of Menu of the Day featuring paella with chicken, French fries, wine and bread. I realize I don't want to wait until 6:30 to eat. Besides, the café offers WI-Fi so I take a seat and order, then email Randy several times.
I head back in the albergue where Corien asks if I'd like to join her for dinner eating outside on the plaza. I said I'd just eaten, but join her for a glass of wine - 2.5 euros. (You can buy a bottle in the countryside for 3 euros, or less.) She orders what the Spanish call macaroni, and to us is spaghetti, a typical meal for pilgrims since, as for runners, a high carbohydrate diet is ideal for maintaining energy.
I tell Corien I plan on going to the pilgrim’s mass. She seems reluctant and her meal is dragging on. Several days later she tells me she is evangelical. I’ve learned several times now that if I want to do something I should just announce that I’m going, instead of trying to be an agreeable companion. Finally, Corien has finished her meal and we meander toward the cathedral. Communion has just finished and I miss that, too. However, she is willing to stay - and is impressed with the Pilgrim’s Blessing that follows the evening mass.
Spaniards tend to eat late and it’s not unusual to see families on the street past midnight. That night from 8:30 p.m. onward until 6 a.m. the next morning it's noisy, which is typical for larger cities. I am near an open window at the albergue and do not sleep well.
Many of us early-bird pilgrims don't know in advance we will be locked in until 7 a.m. which is frustrating. As typical I'm in a hurry to get on the road and miss seeing a famous monastery and the pilgrim hospital, Hospital del Rey, but as I figure both are closed at this hour.
Marjie Baker, an art history major and friend from Tucson later visited Burgos with her husband within the same week. How I wish I would have stayed behind a few days to tag along and listen to her academic comments. But no. I’m on a deadline.
Is this where I get the answers...or do I already know?
As I stroll through the cathedral, as well as along the Camino, I wait for messages of enlightenment. Why did I make this pilgrimage? Where are the answers? Perhaps they will come at the end of the journey. Perhaps there is not a void to fill. Perhaps I have been following my soul’s purpose all along. But I know there's lots of room for improvement. I’m filled once again with gratitude for the opportunities I’ve had in life.
A fellow pilgrim with foot problems said a doctor close to the bus station diagnosed his problem as tendonitis. He tells me approximately how to get to the clinic. I find my way to the clinic and make an appointment for 4:30, and then don't go back. I feel bad about this for a minute. I didn’t want another hour of waiting and doubt they could tell anymore then the Urgent Care doctor in Tucson. (Once back home the orthopedic surgeon took x-rays and diagnosed possible arthritis. Not tendonitis. No shin splints. I still suspect a stress fracture.)
I spend the next two hours walking within the city and see a posting of Menu of the Day featuring paella with chicken, French fries, wine and bread. I realize I don't want to wait until 6:30 to eat. Besides, the café offers WI-Fi so I take a seat and order, then email Randy several times.
I head back in the albergue where Corien asks if I'd like to join her for dinner eating outside on the plaza. I said I'd just eaten, but join her for a glass of wine - 2.5 euros. (You can buy a bottle in the countryside for 3 euros, or less.) She orders what the Spanish call macaroni, and to us is spaghetti, a typical meal for pilgrims since, as for runners, a high carbohydrate diet is ideal for maintaining energy.
I tell Corien I plan on going to the pilgrim’s mass. She seems reluctant and her meal is dragging on. Several days later she tells me she is evangelical. I’ve learned several times now that if I want to do something I should just announce that I’m going, instead of trying to be an agreeable companion. Finally, Corien has finished her meal and we meander toward the cathedral. Communion has just finished and I miss that, too. However, she is willing to stay - and is impressed with the Pilgrim’s Blessing that follows the evening mass.
Spaniards tend to eat late and it’s not unusual to see families on the street past midnight. That night from 8:30 p.m. onward until 6 a.m. the next morning it's noisy, which is typical for larger cities. I am near an open window at the albergue and do not sleep well.
Many of us early-bird pilgrims don't know in advance we will be locked in until 7 a.m. which is frustrating. As typical I'm in a hurry to get on the road and miss seeing a famous monastery and the pilgrim hospital, Hospital del Rey, but as I figure both are closed at this hour.