Day twenty one El Camino

11.71 miles.

The sky at Sahgún shortly after 8:00 a.m.:






Who does not want to be buff?





Pruned tree:




Despite two previous claims, Sahagún asserts that IT is the geographical center of El Camino:





We leave by a bridge:





And should a crossword constructor think s/he can stump this solver with the clue, "river that passes through Sahagún, three letters," well, s/he won't:





More of those flowers that look like crocuses but have no above-ground stem:



The nicest church we have seen so far (imho), but since we did not want to pay to go in, we could just peek at its interior:





Back in the eighth century, if you prayed here, you earned forty days indulgence:





A VERY exciting experience. We were having our mid-morning refreshment when Tanya noticed a table with books (Spanish---also a German translation, fyi) on display. Ehhh, not so interesting, but on inspection, interest grew. The first paragraph drew me in (read: I could translate it), and since the story is a mystery that takes place all along El Camino, I thought, "Why not?" It turned out that the beautiful, young woman you see in the photo is the author's daughter and the man, her husband. She was lovely, and wrote a little something in the book, added an official stamp, denoting the place where this took place, and I handed over 12 euros. Now I have something to read other than Como Agua Para Chocolate (for the third time).





El Burgo Renero at noon:





Curious orange "fruits?" that look a bit like apricots but are hollow:



Rain since mid-afternoon! Is our streak of marvelous weather coming to an end?


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Location:Sahagún to Burgo de Ranero

Day twenty El Camino

The sky a few minutes before 8:00 a.m.




and a few minutes after:




A spot to remember: half way from St. Jean-Pied-de-Port to Santiago:




Not to be confused with the spot, somewhat further on, and more ceremoniously marked, half way between Roncesvalles and Santiago:






And here is a close up of Cluny, who said so. You can see the ordinance in his hand:





These small hut-like structures are likely to be bodegas:





Res ipsa loquitur!




At our coffee stop this morning, we met an older Englishman, who now lives in Spain in a van, or maybe really in Alicante but travels around in his van, and who, we determined, rightly or wrongly, prowls El Camino in search of women. He promised the proprietor of a certain cafe that he would deliver a forgotten tube of cream to a peregrino who had moved on to Sahagún. Apparently, his efforts tired him out:





We meet him later on when we went out for dinner, and discovered that he was not having too much success with the ladies. He did, however, tell us quite a bit about the history of Gibralter, and I gotta tell you that he is damn mad that the Spanish are having trouble respecting the terms of the Treaty of Utrecht, you know, the one that was signed in1713. And there you have it!


A bit of an excursus on our accommodations for the evening. The descriptive blurb promised a hairdryer in the room. Indeed, there was a hairdryer:





But before getting verification of that amenity, first, let us approach The Hostal:





Is that REALLY our hotel or a refuge for addicts? Well, there was a reason for the severely ominous exterior. It was a Thursday, and Thursday is the day off for the family who runs the place:





Not only did that have aesthetic consequences, but there was no one to tell que no había papel higiénico en mi habitación. (There was no toilet paper in my room.) Fortunately, Tanya and Ian could spare some.

I wanted to open the window for some fresh air, but in this ruin, just a few feet away lived many pigeons:




Despite all the off-putting aspects of this place, the room was spotless and had all, well, almost all, the necessities. In the morning, breakfast, served just past the bar (the bar where lots of locals gathered before 7:00 a.m.), was surprisingly exellent. A tall glass of fresh, and I mean fresh, sweet orange juice, a very tasty roll, several slices of a fine cheese, a basket of fruit (most of which was not ripe, but OK), and delicious cafe con leche, as much as you wanted. Also, the young man who ran the place, was as nice as could be.

By the time we left, este hostal had a whole different look:





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Location:Calzadilla de la Cuesta to Sahagún

Day nineteen El Camino

Mileage: 10.74.

Yesterday's hotel, plain as its rooms were, had a winding staircase the wood of which was very old:




An outer and an inner front door both with lots of carved detail and bronze fittings:




Along the say, a thick wooden door with one of those tiny windows you see in convents in the movies:





How exciting is this! We are marching along the Via Aquitana:




The scenery continues to be flat, dry, barren, and vast, oh, and there are lots of flies:




on the other side of the road, as well:




No, it is not Canada, but cañada, (track or ravine). The services it promises are minimal: no drinking water, but you can grab a table and, as the cloud icon indicates, there is a small overhang offering shade:





Ian and Tanya moving steadily along La Via:



At last we arrive at a town! It is our town, Calzadilla de la Cueza. Granted we have walked less than eleven miles, but this we did without a break, so the lure of a pool on this warm, dusty day was exciting. Alas, graffiti, only:





View (I love it) from my bedroom and bathroom windows:





The daily washing machine, although this shot is from a previous day:





Of a truth, it cannot be from today because there is a problem in town, a town, which has exactly one commercial establishment, the place where we are staying:





Translation: Notice: Tomorrow (which is today) the 25th, the water will be cut off from 9:00 a.m. until further advisement due to the cleaning of the tanks. Signed, the mayor.

So, having had a nice lunch with our friends Friedrich and Marianne, but unable to take a shower or do laundry, Tanya and I set off to explore the couple of streets that make up this town.

A common building material here is mud mixed with stones and straw. (If you click on the photo to enlarge, those features should be visible). The windows (small) sometimes have no glass but vertical bars in front of wooden shutters:





Peeking through a gate to a courtyard and flowerpots:





An even smaller window with no bars at all. The mud, stones and straw show up better here:





Getting up close to a tile roof, one can see that at least some of the tiles are supported by cement:




A town, no matter how small will have a large church, but, like this one, it is likely to be locked:





Parts of the meseta may not be barren after all. There is a lot of farming equipment in this town, and it ain't there for nothing:





A playground; no children:




Oh joy! It is 4:30 and The water has come back on at last!

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Location:Carrión de los Condes to Calzadilla de la Cueza

Day eighteen El Camino

13.54 miles today and an even shorter day tomorrow.

We have noted the paucity of birds, which may be due to the paucity of trees, but here is a pigeon perched on a church wall:





These sheep walking through town look like the sheep of yesterday. Only why are they walking through the main street of Frómista?





See, and like yesterday's flock, there is even one trying to eat something:





So many renderings of "peregrinos:"





The same kind of flowers as in East Rock Park:





We were not sure if this was, at one time, a street lamp. There were several of them in a row, looking quite lovely:





Straight this way for oats!





Iconic sign. Inevitably, around the corner.....



there will be people partaking of refreshments:




The ladies' room:





Ian and the mayor making important decisions:





Four life-long friends enjoying a pleasant evening in the square in Carrión de los Condes:




And four young boys kicking around a soccer ball:




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Location:Frómista to Carrión de Los Condes