Socked In

Today's day stage called for serious ups. I checked the weather while I was stirring a vat of oatmeal. I was hoping the forecast improved while we slept. It didn't. The weather man was keeping it real with a 💯% chance of rain from 10am to 6pm. Thunderstorms in the afternoon would keep us focused. Good thing we'll be on top of a mountain.

We moved briskly through the valley floor gently starting the ascent. We passed cows in green fields by a stream with their bells jingling. Next came a pumpkin patch that led into a coffee break. It was not nearly as cold as the prior days and I was already getting warm with a short sleeved wool shirt and a Goretex rain coat. I'd like to mention something about that base layer. This is our 20th day on the Camino. I have worn that shirt on all 20 days. I'm going for the record. As far as I can tell it doesn't smell but then again I always seem to be given a wide perimeter in the albergues. I have been washing it. It nearly dries overnight. I just put it on damp and I'm good to go. Wool is the wonder fiber!

Getting back to the stage. Walking away from the coffee stop we were still on the valley road. The Camino then peeled off and we headed through a chestnut forest. At first down to a stream and then straight up for two miles. I'm talking stair master straight up. On rocks and in mud and on beds of chestnut husks. Midway up this climb it began to rain. We were already in the clouds. The views were the same as every other time I'd been in a cloud. The humidity was 400%. My overheating was now moving into the spontaneous combustion zone. The rain would stop and I'd take off my coat to cool off and then it would immediately start back. I'm not sure which was wetter, the outside or the inside of my coat.

We popped out of the woods and into La Faba, population 15. It was a tiny hamlet but on our radar since Maria had praised their hand squeezed juices. El Refugio had a strong hippie vibe. We could have been at a Dead concert or downtown Asheville. The juices were quite good. We tried orange and melon. For a brief moment the clouds lifted and we could see what we had accomplished, and what we hadn't! Then returned the rain.

The next section up to O Cebreiro was just as steep until the last K where it leveled a bit. When we reached the town we were in a full grown rain storm. It was gusting and pelting us. With hoods up and eyes down we tucked into a church portico. We were out of the rain but not the cold. We looked at each other and didn't like what we saw. Amy asked me to make the call. I called for a coffee break. The forecast for later in the day was for worsening conditions. How much worse could it get was the question bouncing around in my head. We slogged into a bar and immediately formed a puddle around our packs and coats. Amy and Clare had Colacao and I had a café con leche. We were craving soup as it had now turned cold again. No soup. In fact no hot food at all. We devoured an unlabeled bag of potato chips. When we stepped back outside the clouds had parted again and we were treated to a spectacular view of the mountains and valleys below, punctuated with smaller lingering clouds here and there. We are now in Galicia.

Now we were making our way across the ridge line. We had originally targeted Alto de Poio as our sleep stop but the albergue options seemed sub par. Liz Hackett had warned us against what she referred to as the worst place she had stayed during her Camino last year. We decided to cut it a few K short and tucked into a municipal albergue in Hospital de la Condesa. We arrived at 2:30 and the sign said they were open at 1:00. There was no one around but the sign didn't lie. The door was open. We had lunch on the porch looking down on the trail below. There was not much action. Eventually an older woman arrived with a fleece jacket under her housecoat. She smiled as she talked and quickly figured out that Clare was the only one that could understand her. She found that very entertaining. Anyway she had been sent down by the hospitelera who was having lunch at the bar. She told us to go in and pick out a bed. The hospitelera would be down after a while so we could do "all that stuff." Thirty minutes went by and the older lady returned to tell us that the hospitelera was now at her house making sweets for the festivities tomorrow and she would be down after that. They are killing the pigs tomorrow for the whole year and everyone pitches in and there is a big celebration. Unfortunately we can't stay for that as we have a mountain to descend. We have supplies for dinner but there are no utensils in the pristine kitchen. Not even a knife or a pot. I think I know why it is so clean. We will now be heading to the bar for some type of cured meat, egg dish and a fried potato combo.