June 29 Los Arcos to Allo

Los Arcos to Allo was not the etapa (stage) for today; the stage is all the way to Larraga, 40 km.  Right now, at 4:45 p.m. is 107 degrees, full sun.  I left at 5:30 a.m. while it was still dark since the first mile or so was on the road so I didn't have to see an obscure path.  Anyway, as I stepped out of the casa I almost tripped over a DUDE sleeping on the doorstep.  Estaban, the proprietor, had told me that someone was expected later in the evening, but I guess this guy, doubtless walking the Camino de Santiago de Compostela, arrived just too late.

I must say that walking through Navarra is not among my top 1000 choices.  It is flat,



no trees. It must be the hay capital of the world (see above and below):




and though the paths area by no means obscure, well, except occasionally, it is really easy to miss a turn, which I did today, and that cost a good 1/2 hour.  Maybe the error was due to a distraction.  I heard a LOUD noise, like that of 1000 motorcycles.  It kept getting louder.  I looked up and thought:  Oh, a drone out here in the middle of nowhere.  Amazon must be ferrying goods to some far flung corner of this desert.  Mais non!  There was a guy in the apparatus going off for a fly!

 It is also very hot.  Despite my screw up, I reached Allo at 10:30 on the dot, as planned.  The taxista was schmoozing it up in a local bar, but presently he appeared and off we went to Larraga.  I could barely understand a word el taxista said.  But when I got to the hotel, I could understand everything all over again and that did make me feel better.

Tonight's hotel has air-conditioning! It also has jacuzzi jets in the tub, but I couldn't get that luxury to work.

June 28 Hospederia etc. to Los Arcos

Eleven miles turned into twelve, as is so often the case!  It was already warm when I started out at 6:15 and in the high nineties when I arrived before noon.  

Not a lot of news in that town:

Car in front of barn:

Closed window:

Sheep:

Sheep after the sheepherder gets them going where he wants them to go:

Huh?  A refuge for lost souls?  Mais non!  Perdiz means partridge!  My new word of the day!

June 26+27 Bernedo to Santa Cruz de Campezo to....

El Santuario de Nuestra Señora de Codes.  More about that later.

Left la casa at about 6:15 because even though the distance today was modest—12 miles—there was a grocery store that needed getting to before it closed at 1:00.  I arrived at 11:15.  Google Maps, now that I have a functioning phone, directed me, so I was able to restock the larder, so to speak, and have eggs for dinner, and later a double chocolate magnum from the bar.  The taxi ride back to Bernedo from Santa Cruz, all of fifteen minutes, cost €50.  Would you believe?  That is because the taxi had to come way from Peñacerrada.  "Oh," I said to the son of Fernando the taxi driver who was supposed to have driven, "If you live in Peñacerrada, you probably know Maite."  (She is the woman who runs the cute B and B there.) "Oh, yes," he said.  "She is my aunt and the woman who owns the panadería" is my mother."  And I think that they are all related to Silvie, who owns the casa rural here in Bernedo and that they have a scam going with Fernando because it was Silvie who  recommended Fernando way over there in Peñacerrada when there is a perfectly nice and very competent taxi driver by the name of Carlos right in Santa Cruz de Campezo who could have done the job.  Oh well, everybody'a back needs a scratch, and everyone has to earn a living.

The big news of the day is that I did not make any errors.  Maybe a first for this walk.  A few moments of equivocation, to be sure, but no added miles.  It seems that in this section, and it is all very regional,  there has been some recent effort put into grooming the path.  Just the fact that there are real paths is notable.

But it is always something:



Next morning, a 6:15 pick up again—by Carlos, the perfectly nice and very competent taxista—to return to Santa Cruz de Campezo to begin the truncated walk to Los Arcos.  Truncated because it is possible to divide this stage into two, which I happily did, and am I ever glad!  The stage today was barely seven miles, but over a 3110 feet of climbing and 4100 of descent, all very steep.  The descent, well, let's just say that for part of it sitting down and sliding, and wondering whether I should close my eyes, was the preferred option.

There was a decent stretch of ridge walking where the views were like this on either side:



But it was so windy that just pushing on ahead with the poles was all I could manage.  Some dramatic stone formations on the way down:



 It was a good walk and I am happy to save the last eleven miles for tomorrow.

So, if you have to get in touch, I am at the Hospederia del Santuario de Nuestra Señora de Codes, where I arrived at 10:30 a.m.  It is a decent enough place to have some extra hours to rest—yes, rest— provided that you bring your own soap for the shower.  Towels were provided.

June 24+25 Berantevilla to Peñacerrada to Bernedo

Sergio, el taxista—remember him?—who was to return me to Berantevilla where today's section began, refused to pick me up at 6:00 a.m. or at 6:15.  He said 6:30.  We compromised.  He showed up at 6:23.  I told him that his web site promised service 24 hours a day but he was not moved.  I have learned that web sites promise a lot that is not provided.  Anyway, I was concerned that it was going to be a wretchedly hot day and the twenty-five minutes difference counts when there is a lot of hillage—as, indeed, there was today— that is ever so much easier to tackle during the cooler hours of the morning.

A new phenomenon today: actual paths!!  What a joy!  The waymarking was good in most places, too, but getting through these towns, small as they are, is a challenge every time.  The streets wind and turn and there can be several possible or impossible choices.  You are almost euphoric when you get it right.

All I think about, it seems, is food.  Where to get it, when I can get it, how many days does one trip to a grocery store have to last.  The place I am staying tonight has a panadería, which is the only shop in town.  I arrived at 1:00 and bought the very last loaf.  Some roast chicken would be awfully nice right about now.  Sardines will have to do.  Oh, one thing they have here is tuna and salmon in tins, but in a pate form.  Once you get over the shock, if, in fact you do, that this is not cat food, it is really not bad.

The next phase, to Bernedo, was mostly a good walk, but again, missing subtle unexpected turns added a mile, if not more, to an already long walk....17 1/2 is a lot of miles.

An old house:

Not helpful:

Is this a warning or a vocative?

Last night's accommodation was just adorable, a redone mill or something like that.  Thick stone walls, sweet little cut out windows, cozy, and good wi-fi.  Tonight, in Bernedo, I have a whole house!  Wanted to go to the "best bar in town"  (there are two), thinking I could get a tortilla (egg and potato) and heat it up.  But wouldn't you know, the bar was closed today.  A good thing I decided to check tomorrow's start point and hit the second bar before taking a shower and all because that bar closed at 3:30.  Usually bars are open until 11:00.  Anyway, I asked for a cheese bocadillo (a sandwich).  It was just that: two slices of bread with cheese in the middle.  But having a stove allows one to toast bread, so I did!  I guess I could have melted the cheese, but didn't think about that at the time.

June 23 Salcedo to Berantevilla to Peñacerrada

Sergio, el taxista, picked me up today at 6:00 to take me back to Salcedo, the start point.  A good thing, too, because I made some major mistakes—missing turn offs and such—that cost me about an hour or more and it got pretty darn hot around noon, when I was thinking that I wished I had worn the thinner socks.  

The worst mistake was when I saw a waymark and started charging up the hill.  It was a good hill....wide, decent surface, not too steep, but it was the wrong hill, and I had gone at least a half mile if not more up that darn hill.  So down I sped even faster that I had charged up, and found the correct hill, which, being cement, was nowhere as nice as the wrong hill.  The waymark, it turns out, was one of those, "pay attention here" sort; it was not verifying direction.  And furthermore, it did not have that bend in it that signifies a turn.  VERY annoying.  At least my boots had dried out.

One of the many barking dogs.  He does not look too ferocious, but he sure was loud and there were five other yappy dogs in the enclosure with him:

Flowers:

Moving along, slowly:

I just wan't up to looking for the alternate to this path, so defying the prohibition, I just went.  Fortunately, there were no unpleasant consequences, and before long, I was where I was supposed to be.

I had planned to go to the grocery store on my way to the hotel, but this being Sunday, even the major supermarkets are closed, at least here.  It is going to be a lot of cheese and crackers and peanut butter for a few days.

June 22 Tuesta to Salcedo

VWB:  Very wet boots.  This is the same pair that looked so nice a couple of weeks ago.  I have one thing to say about them:  waterproof they are not.  Ten minutes in wet grass, and they are soaked through.  Well, that was yesterday's story.

Loved the walk today!  No terrible navigation problems, though in one place I felt as if I were walking through Mr. McGregor's garden (not that this was the first time), but I met up with the proper path and no one was there to shoo me away.

There was variety in the paths.  Most of the surfaces were good, way marking was sometimes wonderful, but sometimes you wondered if it hadn't been someone's lunch break and they decided not to come back and finish the job.  I had a taxista coming for me at the end point, so time was of the essence.  I was early—gotta beat that clock, you know—and Sergio the taxi driver not only picked me up, he took me to the grocery store and waited for me.  The store was huge and since items are not organized the way we expect, it is really hard to find things.  One item I wanted was crema de cacahuete.....peanut butter.  There were no people stacking shelves or anything like that, so I asked a cashier and got a nod towards the general direction.  I asked a shopper: same thing.  Finally an armed security guard, would you believe, took me over to the peanut butter.  There was one brand.  It will do.

View in one direction at about 7:00 a.m.

And view in the other direction:

Street:

Note absence of people.  There are lots and lots and lots of very loudly barking dogs, fortunately, rarely on the loose.

A different sort of sound comes from the church bells.  Even on the half hour they may play quite elaborate tunes.  

June 21 Boveda to Tuesta

You see that very nice gate that has wooden slats and a waymark?  It was one of the highlights of the day.  In fact, it may have been the highlight of the day.

It had rained and the grass was wet.  It was very very wet and it was also tall.  Very very tall.  The path was extremely overgrown.  I was soaked.  Sloshing, and I mean sloshing in my boots at the beginning of a 20 mile day, made me think about those soldiers in the First World War, in the trenches, wet for days on end, their feet never dry, unlike me, who, after eight or nine hours could be comfortable again.

A town:

There will always be a church but hardly ever a grocery store.

Very wet tall grass but with flowers:

Waiting for the guests to have tea or maybe just flower pots talking to each other?

June 20, Paresotas to Bóveda

To be consistent and continue kvetching, I will complain today about, oh, I almost forgot this one: at the start of the walk there was an arrow with a waymark sign. Let's say it was pointing north.  Guess what?  You were supposed to go east.  15 minutes lost there.  Then there were the wretched wheat and barley fields, and the waymarks "that were probably lost," and an instruction to "enter the trees," but where??!!  All this has led me to a decision—maybe.  When the GPS track and Viewranger disagree, go with Viewranger.  The problem with that is that it is easier to follow the GPS readout than Viewranger's.

Another navigational issue is that sometimes you can be going in the correct direction but not at the right place.  For example, say you were walking to the Yale campus from the direction of Hamden.  It could make a difference if you walked along Prospect, Whitney, or Orange because you would not end up at Wolsey Hall in each case.  Not having anyway to compensate for that out here in the wilds, because there may be impassable shrubbery or a ravine, or a wall or some other impediment as opposed to cross street, makes that issue another time loser. Most often you just have to go back since you may only be able to get to X from A but not B or C.

This was an easy fence to get through.  What you do is you pull the wooden pole that has the blue string around it towards the fatter pole.  Then you can slide the cord over the top.   If you pull the  wooden pole up from the hole in the ground where it is seated, the whole fence sort of collapses, but no matter, you go through, put the pole back in the hole and then pull as hard as you can to get the pole close enough to fat pole so that you can put the blue cord around it again.  This happened to be an easy fence to deal with.



Foal:

Not a foal:

If you don't like Bóveda, you can take a bus, says John, (but I'd challenge him on that one)

But you'd be pretty silly to pass up the Casa Rural here in Boveda.  It is a really really nice place where you even have kitchen  privileges.  And the very very nice lady gave me two eggs, bread, and a hearty rice dish she had cooked, so I had an omelette, rice, cucumber and tomatoes, toast, and a few other things.  What a great meal! She is also taking Rojita and Rojita's companion, Mochilita, to the next B and B.

June 17, 18, 19 Salazar

If memory serves, yesterday started out stunningly, and I was all excited for a frustration free day.  "Ah, this is what it is all about!" And for several hours it was just glorious. 

There was a scenery change.  John, you all know him by know, says that these stones are reminiscent of France.  He is probably correct:

Cow of the day:

Some time in the afternoon, things got tricky. Half of what went wrong, I don't remember, but the worst was this:  Instructions say to fork left.  GPS shows a left fork and so does View Ranger.  There is a mark on a tree, unclear to be sure, but seems to support other instructions.  I walk back and forth and back and forth for some time because not only do I not see a fork, I see not so much as a tine, but surging on ahead was not correct either.  So, after quite some long time, I push through at "the spot" and it is awful.  I am scratched and cut and cursing while I am, apparently, on an invisible path.  Eventually, I come out the other end just incredulous and push on to Salazar.

I get to Salazar, a tiny town, and cannot find accommodation, and, of course, Google Maps does not work.  I sit a spell hoping someone will turn up, but it is about 3:30 and there is neither a peep nor a person anywhere. I cannot call because phone is not working (see Google Maps, just above) and this seemed a dumb situation in which to haul out the Go, so I tap on the door of an elegant large house and ask if this is the Casa Rural Ondina.  It is not, but lady shows me where it is.  At last, after 18 miles, I am "here." 

Other people have been frustrated, too:

Salazar is the first place I have an official rest day, which I switch and decide to walk the next day since I had already lounged around in that luxurious balneario in Corconte.

Long but easy, says the book.  I am OK with that.  Scenery may not be dramatic but it is pleasant and I am so into easy that I do not notice my first error.  But that was after the pretty field:

I forget if the error was before or after I was not beheaded navigating one of those barbed wire fences:

I definitely did go off the route.  I looked at the GPSand did not see the magenta track.  Is this device not working?  Yes, it was working, only I was so not where I should have been. I turn back.

Sometimes there is signage, and if there was also a warning, which, doubtless would not have been heeded, I will never know.

That path reminds me of the "muddy cow track which "you will likely want to avoid by taking the field on the side."  (There were two sides.)  Anyway, I felt kind of guilty opting for the field—and chose the left side— because a poor woman was herding  a whole lot of skinny cows through the most yucky muck and cow shit deep as you can't imagine.  It's a living.

On to a different aspect of nature:

Later on during this long but easy day I made a huge awful mistake that cost me about an hour, and it was hot in full sun on a highway.  A taxi was scheduled to pick me up at 3:00 at end point but had to call  to have him come at 4:00.  I could make the call because el dueño de la Casa Rural put €10 on my phone last night. After walking 22.8 miles from 6:30 a.m. to 4:00 p.m., taxi pulled up just as I was hauling myself around looking for the church, our meeting point.  But I did not die:

  I have not yet mentioned Cristina, the daughter of Angeles, with whom I study Spanish. She is a bilingual, just-about-graduate of the U of Madrid and has been helping me by, among other things, making a slew of phone calls to taxistas and B and B's, and really in every situation of difficulty.  Without her I couldn't even be bumbling along as I am.  She is amazingly smart, competent, efficient and reliable.  Anyway, yesterday, after my umpteenth complaint about the damn phone, she told me that there is a Movistar (that is movi as in mobil not movie) store in a town a 15 minute taxi ride away. Yes, Cristina, that  is where I will be spending part of my día de descanso.

Get taxi to go to Movistar store, a tiny little one person operation, wait in line a good while, but it was worth it. El chico there was really nice.  He told me that I did not want Movistar—and he works for them!!—and he escorted me, would you believe, to a shop down the street and around the corner where his compañero set me up with DIGI, which cannot be worse than Movistar—one hopes— AND I paid for 3 months at once!  Oy, now I realize that I only needed two months.  Oh well.  My first attempt at using Google Maps worked, so I am quite hopeful that now I have a functioning phone.  It will depend on the network coverage about which I am dubious.  BTW, everyone and I mean everyone here uses WhatsApp.  And now, so do I!

June 16 Corconte and then to Pedrosa

I am now at el Balneario de Corconte, a gracious, gorgeous hotel that has a spa, as the name implies.  The room, on a Saturday night, is $70.00, the same price as last night's very modest hotel.  I will have lunch ($15.00 for two large courses, bread, a bottle, yes an entire bottle of wine, and dessert) in the elegant dining room, but am equivocating as to whether this requires washing my hair first.  I think not.  The frizziness sort of masks the swollen eye lid.

I did check out the start of the walk for tomorrow.  It was important to make sure that the new GPS was doing its job and that John's instructions were adequate because the first part of the walk is, again, his own invention.  To his credit, he does provide better detail than he gave for yesterday's disaster.  I can hardly wait for the part where, beyond the fence, to avoid the "dense shrub," about which I know plenty, you "go through a pasture and have to watch out for the trenches running east to west.  These were dug by the republicans in the Spanish Civil War and mark a line designed to defend the road to Reinosa."  To compensate, or not, there is a memorial opposite built after the war to accommodate (?  not my choice of words) the 300 Italians killed trying to defend the hill.  Abstention from comment.

A no photo day

Yesterday, when I checked in, the señora showed me how to unlock the outer door in the morning.  So, at 6:30 a.m. I did as she had instructed and tapped the thingee on the wall, only nothing happened; the door stayed locked.  I must have been making a racket because after a few attempts of pushing and banging, a tired looking woman employee in a bathrobe shuffled down the hall, and with a Dios mio finally got the thingee to respond and i was off to the hill where 300 Italians died only I had a terrible time figuring out how to get where I was supposed to be since John's landmarks did not exist.  It was a frustrating mess but I did eventually get on my way without falling into a ditch.

Part of the walk was through a wind farm, which normally I would not like so much but at least the directions were not an issue here as they were, again, later on.

The whole mishpoche:

Take your pack off, slide it under the barbed wire, and then lie down and slide yourself under the barbed wire, and voila! Really, though the fence looks like a good kick and a shove would knock it down.

Despite continued directional challenges, today I arrived at 2:00 only to have a fresh batch of frustration when I discovered that phone is not working because the SIM card is locked.  It took many consultations and finally a friend of el dueño to finally learn that this is a safety feature of the card and, yes, the phone is working, after a fashion, after all.

June 14 Brañosera to Reinosa

A nightmare of a day, even before I tripped on a black thing on the road in Reinosa—I was not looking for black things on the road—and whacked my forehead so that now I have a huge egg over my eye.  But at least the phone did not break nor did a tooth.  

My opinion of the guidebook when I first started reading it was that it was cavalier.  Now I need an adjective that goes way beyond that, like shouldn't have been published in its present state.  Today was described as so easy that one could get to Reinosa and take the bus on to Corconte (missing the stage between those to places, which I am missing for reasons about to be explained) in time for lunch.  Is he kidding?  

First, John, that is the author's name, John Hayes, has the walker follow his special route, which he claims to be far superior to the official route.  Now, it was not his fault that it took me 30 minutes to find the way out of Brañosera, but the cemetery that he gave as a landmark was hardly obvious.  It isn't as if the walls said "Cementario" or anything and if you are short, you cannot see over the very high wall, pero bueno, I finally found it, but the dirt path you were supposed to take "near" the cemetery did not exist.  I took the road for the first stretch.  

Then, yes, there was some pleasant walking once you found the way to go after the road.  But it is always something:

That sign was worth a shrug.

And fortunately, I did not want to fish:

 Then, we are told, that as you pass into Cantabria, ha ha, all the signage pretty much disappears and the path is not maintained.  I will not describe every wander and every horror, just a couple because probably the bump over my eye is interfering with my memory.

After many, and I mean many false starts and turnings back and that sort of thing that eat up time like pac-man or whoever, eats up those creatures—you get to this trail and think, "Thank God, someplace you can really move on and just blast on ahead.  So I do.  After a reasonable time, I neurotically check my GPS and was horrified to see that I had walked almost a mile on this lovely track only it was WRONG.  Is there anything to do but turn back?  So I did.

At the junction, one could see a very very subtle path going off to the left.  That was THE path, well, John's path, but after a while, it was worse than anything in Scotland.  I don't know how I managed my way out of the thistles and thorns and briars and whatnot up to my shoulders and muck and holes and water underfoot, and really intended, if I could, to find my way back to Brañosera and take a taxi.  Somehow, not even entirely intentionally at this point, I made my way to where I was supposed to be, and bumbled along to it-is-clear-that- this-is where-you-are-to-go and continued on.

Did this cow care?

All God's creatures gotta eat:

 The route was one disaster after another, then, the last stretch, hardly before lunch even considering Spanish dining hours, was along a highway with no shoulder and this for a several miles. MILES!  I trudge and trudge.  At last, it is now about 3:00, a lady in a car stops and asks if I am perdida (lost).  She thinks I am supposed to be doing the Camino de Santiago de Compostela.  No, I tell her, I am not perdida, I am just schlepping along to Reinosa.  And then with the greatest amount of chtuzpah, I ask her if she is in a hurry.  She is not, so I ask her if she would drive me, even though she was going in the opposite direction.  She did.  Was that nice or what!!  I had already walked 18.5 miles and it would have taken me well over an hour to get to el Hotel San Roque.  So, being totally done in from the trauma of the morning and the seemingly endless highway walking, I graciously got into the car with la señora and had a lovely little ride along the ugly highway to Reinosa.

Once checked in, I was dying for a hot shower and some decent food.  There was no hot water, but lunch at the hotel, at 4:00, was excellent: judías con tomate (judías is the name for green beans, don't ask) and grilled trout. Then I worked on setting up the new GPS, which had arrived safely from England.  Also needed time to get some supplies and honestly to recover form a few really hard days. With not a whole lot of agony, I decided to take the taxi with Rojita mañana and check out the start of the path from Corconte to Pedrosa de Valdeporres.

 

June 13 Cervera Pisuerga-Brañosera

Today was different from all previous days in that the muscles in my legs, whichever ones they are, or they could be tendons for all I know, but in any case, they did not ache at every step.  And a good thing because although this was not the longest day so far —19.5 miles that felt like 29—it took the longest: just about nine hours.  Oh, and that was with the "shortcut,"

First mistake was mine: left hotel and walked down the wrong street.  This was because of my directional stupidity, but I won't go into that.  Walked a lovely trail that was not "my trail" and then had about 3 1/2 miles of road walking, which may have been a good thing distance wise, but I missed a stretch of lovely scenery.  

By and by came upon a tiny town that really looked like a farm.  The birds there never miss a Mass:

I had a lot of worries about this stage, because the instructions warn of a number of barbed wire fences "that need a bit of patience particularly if you are walking alone."  Turns out they were not so bad.  Then there was this tiny village "where the signs disappear completely and beware as the obvious direct route is wet and boggy, and is avoided only if you approach the village from the southwest."  What is he talking?  There was a lot of unpleasant wandering there and climbing over walls and stuff.

There are gates you have to go through that are like TSA check points.  You have to take off your backpack to get through, though, of course, the reasons are different:

I must talk about the "short cut."  The actual path is 11 hours.  The short cut is 9 hours and 30 minutes.  (The times are actually very generous.)  Oh, yes, nothing like continuing along the ridge and having a jolly 11 hour walk!  Well, after I started the short cut, I was not so sure I had made a good choice.  Very hard to find the path.  No instructions, no markers.  Thank God, my GPS had that route on it.  But even with that help. it was very difficult because towards the end—that means the last mile or mile and a half—any sort of path disappeared and there was an uncrossable chasm that the GPS did not recognise.  The thing about some GPS tracks is that they are as the crow flies as opposed to how the foot walks.

There was a pretty bridge:

And some cattle just enjoying  being cattle:

And fields of flowers:

Finally get to hostel at 3:30 p.m., having started out at 6:30 a.m.  Hostel is reputed to have excellent food, but guess what?  I was too late to have lunch and that was that.  I did buy a magnum (double chocolate are the best) and two bottles of Vichy Catalan (sparkling water).

Oh, old, backup GPS performed admirably, but will have to bide its time, again, in the suitcase, after new one arrives.