Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire 🔥 (stovetop)

Our day started and finished with the same Korean pilgrims cooking up a feast. In between we hiked 15 miles with a 2,000 feet climb over the first half out of the fog, and mainly a descent for the second half with the sun on our left.

Many albergues and cafes are now closed for the season despite the marked increase in pilgrim traffic. To earn the Compostela, pilgrims must hike at least the last 100k, which starts just west of Sarria. Every open café is filled with peregrinos and at times I could count up to 30 pilgrims within sight on the Way. It's really starting to feel festive!

Getting back to the feast. This morning's feast was chestnuts. That's right. Old school pilgrim foraging. On the menu were boiled or pan roasted chestnuts. We only sampled the roasted as the boiling was not yet finished. After they had their fill and had filled small bags they offered us some and we dug in. They were delicious! Even better than we had had at the stand in back in Soria, possibly due to freshness. After all they had just been collected the previous evening. Clare decided then that we should collect chestnuts and roast our own the following day. I agreed. I bet a pilgrim could survive on a diet of figs and chestnuts between St. Jean and Santiago in the fall.

Leaving our mid morning coffee stop we bumped into Ted and Marek and they had just heard that a French woman had completed the Camino in 18 days! I guess she doesn't have that much vacation time. I wondered what her experience was like and how different it must be from others. Did she meet many pilgrims? How many café con leches did she enjoy? I'm not judging her decision to go fast. I'm just wondering.

In addition to the obvious increase in the number of pilgrims, the landscape is also changing. The chestnut trees are giving way to pines. The hills are rolling with very few mountains to see except in the far distance when we crest small ridges.

Courtesy of Liz Hackett's advice we are in a nice new hostel in Palas de Rei called San Marcos. We have hand washed a few items and punctured blisters on Amy's heel and Clare's little toe. We've wandered around town and purchased breakfast for tomorrow. Now to roast some chestnuts. We picked them up on our way into town. Prickly little dudes. Next Camino I bring chestnut gloves!

President Clare

I think I've figured out why the unemployment rate is so high in Spain. The grocery stores only have one employee. They might be re-stocking shelves or carving jamón in the back or ringing you up. With staples in our arms we stood at an unmanned cash register in the front of Supermercado in Portomarin. One gentleman approached and as he only had two items we suggested he go ahead of us. He would have none of that. He sat his items on the floor behind us and then sat down in the seats at the storefront to catch up on the day's events. Another man approached with two large bottles of water and shouted, "Señora! cash register!!, the pilgrims are waiting!" Señora hustled up to the register and rang us up. Señor water bottles struck up a conversation with Clare. They were discussing the recent US election results. He said that the US had missed a chance to elect its first female president. Clare said maybe in the near future. The man said, "How about you? You could run", and they all had a big laugh.

We returned to our albergue which is a newer, private place not in any of our guide books. It opened in June and is called Paso A Paso. The manager or owner is in his early thirties. He checked us in and showed us to our room. Then around 5 he left and his parents took over. Their duties included checking pilgrims in, entertaining everyone with lively Spanish conversation whether they spoke Spanish or not and fiddling with finicky heater knobs. Most importantly however it included conducting a taste test of papa's homemade "fire water," which as far as we could gather involved distilling the byproducts of wine. It was sweet and powerful.

We were sampling the "fire water" with Chen, a new friend from Taiwan. who was sharing his meal with us. His meal was a bottle of red wine and a bag of potato chips. In turn we shared our olives and cider with him. In discussing post-Camino travel plans Chen told us that he must fly back to Taiwan on the 19th so he would be home for his daughter's first birthday! We all agreed. Miss that celebration and I'm pretty sure this would be Chen's last Camino. Coincidentally Chen's daughter and I share the same birthday, November 20. If all goes well we will be flying home that day.

Amy retrieved our wet clothes from the dryer and we hung them out all over our room. I really should skip paying the €4 to run the dryer as it simply tumbles the wet clothes for an hour delaying precious draping-over-the-bed drying time. Europe can be proud of many things but their tumble clothes dryers are not on that list.

I was told today's stage would be easy, and in comparison to swimming the English Channel I guess it was. Walking 18 miles with a 9.4 kilo pack on your back is never easy. How do I know the weight of my pack you ask? I took the opportunity to weigh myself with and without pack in a Farmacia today as Amy and Clare were restocking the foot care bag.

It was a beautiful day. High wispy clouds and tree lined trails. Several sections were lined with knobby oak trees that had been cut back many times. They looked like all the talking trees that I've ever seen in books and movies.

We had an outside lunch in the sun with a whole slew of peregrinos including Max and Gracia from Valencia. If we eat where they eat then we know we are doing something right because they always have the inside scoop. They informed us that we were now in a white wine region. Up until now all the local wines had been red.

Immediately after lunch we stepped inside 100k to Santiago. In the beginning of the Camino the kilometers seemed to tick off very slowly. Now they seem to be flying by. The only part of a 1,200k bike ride that I don't enjoy is the finish. I'm already starting to dread the end but as the Irish wisely say, "If you don't leave, you can't come back!"

Above the Clouds

We stepped out of our albergue in Hospital and into a dark fog. The sun was not yet up over O Cebreiro. We gave a cursory examination to a pre-Romanesque church and then hit the rolling ridge line to Alto do Poio. As the sun hit our backs, the fog parted, revealing green patchwork fields below. The guidebook called the climb to Alto do Poio short and steep. If it were any steeper we'd have needed ropes. We popped over the end of the ridge and started to follow a shallow downhill grade beside the road. We were above the fog, filling the valleys below. I love this view. We get it cycling back in WNC, particularly when we ride up to Pisgah early in the morning. After a mile we were back into the fog. I was a bit frustrated with the fog but that's my problem. I felt that we had truly earned the views but instead we were inside a cloud.

We stopped for coffee in a one café town and ran into Mark from Copenhagen. He had stayed with us two nights ago and then again briefly last night. We had been the only 3 pilgrims at our albergue in Hospital when Mark dragged in soaked to the core. He paid, picked out a bed and showered. He was on his bed sewing when we left for dinner. Before we had finished our soup he was in full kit and poncho popping into the restaurant to tell us that he was pushing on. His friend from England had just passed through and convinced Mark to push on 3 more villages. It was ambitious, especially in the dark and pouring rain. We said goodbye and returned to our soup. Anyway, after walking 10k since Hospital we found Mark and his friend still having breakfast at our coffee break. I've encountered this same phenomenon randonneuring many times. Someone stops early and others push on. Then the one who stopped early gets going earlier and catches the others the following morning. This coffee stop was the café attached to the only pilgrim accommodations in town. It in fact was the only building in town that didn't contain cows. The barista was an older woman who barely fit behind the bar. This was not because she was large. The behind-the-bar space was unbelievably tight. It didn't hinder her performance. She was taking great care in steaming the milk that was being produced by the cows walking past her front door. Clare had a hot chocolate and it was heaven in a cup. First the milk was steamed. Then the chocolate was added and it was re-steamed for mixing. Then after Clare had consumed 2/3s of her hot chocolate the barista refilled her cup and then left the pitcher! Warmed up we returned to the trail.

As we got lower we re-entered the chestnut forests. They are beautiful trees. I love walking on the prickly but cushioning husks which often helped us cross muddy sections today. It gives me a glimpse as to what it must have looked like in the forests of the eastern United States before the chestnut blight. I hope they make a comeback. Very tasty roasted too which we've been enjoying along the Way.

As we descended the narrow steep gulley into Triacastela we met a herd of cows being shepherded in the opposite direction. We stepped off the path and I wished the farmer a Buen Camino. He said Sí, a Francia!

I don't usually take pictures of dead animals but then again they don't usually match my shoes perfectly. Over a couple miles along the section in and past Tricastela there were squished salamander-looking creatures all over the road. They are about 6" long, black with yellow spots. I'd love to see one alive but it wasn't to be.

After lunch in Triacastela it was decision time. Take the long way by the river through Samos, or up and over on the shorter route. We went high. It was supposed to be the less scenic route. The other route must be something special because I loved ours. We reconnected with Max and Gracia today and are staying with them in an institutional albergue in Calvor. It is the only game in town. You know what happens when there is no competition. Let's just say we won't be sad to go.

Once again there is a kitchen with NO utensils. You can't even boil water unless you brought a pot. Just like everyone else staying here we walked the 0.5 K into the village to eat at the bar. Since the bartender was also the cook we reconnected with the slow food movement. It was really good though. We finally had a soup with the leaves from the tall plants found in every garden. It looks like a cabbage mated with a brussel sprout plant and then grew up to 8'. On our way back to our albergue in the dark the almost super moon lit our way. Our big day is behind us. Our feet are so happy to be in bed. We will go inside 100k to Santiago tomorrow and thus will begin collecting two stamps per day. We are getting there. We should be in Santiago by Friday, with the help of God, as my mother would always say.

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.

Freddy

We have stayed in six different villages since Leon. Padrecito Freddy from Columbia has stayed in the same villages. In only one of six did we not bunk under the same roof. So it should not come as a surprise that we found him sitting at the table taking a meal when we checked into our albergue, but it did. We are not planning this. I don't even think we are discussing where we are staying. Anyway, today we decided to shorten the Brierly guide book stage a few K to make the stages more even. That put us ending in a small village called Vega de Valcarce. It is a beautiful place in the hills just at the foot of more mountains.

We had had not seen Freddy all day. We had not seen him since dinner last night when we both picked the same restaurant in Cacabelos. Freddy had been limping pretty badly two nights ago but when we saw him last night he was in even worse shape. He had fallen coming into Cacabelos and had a pretty ugly lateral ankle sprain. It was already swollen. I gave him the extra hiking pole that I had been carrying and he seemed very grateful. He had already been discussing stopping his Camino with Fritz but now that his ankle had been iced and he had a full belly, a new plan was hatched. He would send his pack onto Santiago and only carry the bare essentials on his back.

We didn't see Freddy at breakfast. He had already departed. We chose the scenic route through rolling vineyards and it was beautiful in the morning sun.

Our morning café con leches came in Villafranco del Bierzo where we ran into the Spanish couple Max and Gracia. We played leapfrog with them for the rest of the day until they ducked into a restaurant for a local delicacy, boatillo which is pig stomach stuffed with other meats and sausages. We passed on the tripe and forged ahead. Before leaving them we asked where they were staying for the night and it was the same stop where we would be. Amy asked which albergue, since those two always seem to have the inside scoop, and they told us la Magdalena. We would look for it. We trudged on. Our feet began to ache but we finally made it to the village. We stopped at Magdalena but it looked a little run down. We walked around a bit and checked out a few others that were suggested in our guides. But nothing felt right. There was one more across the river and we would have a look. It had a field and two horses. It felt right. We made our way to the detached reception building although it looked closed. We swung the door open and there sat Freddy having a meal prepared by the hospitelera.

The place is called Albergue El Paso. It is run by Maria and she is amazing! She has washed and dried our clothes, given us fresh vegetables from her garden and eggs from her chickens for our dinner and sold us a 3€ bottle of red wine that she makes herself. She has also helped us prepare our dinner including thin slices of toast with local goat cheese and homemade tomato jam. We sautéed the veggies, served them over rice and had scrambled eggs on the side. Top it off with some Serrano jamón, semicurado cheese and olives and venga, you've got team satisfaction!

We are cooking oatmeal tomorrow before tackling some big mountains including El Cebriero. I just heard it's supposed to rain all day. Oh well. That's why we are carrying rain gear.

Last I saw Maria had Freddy soaking his ankle in a huge bucket of hot water. This was after 30 minutes in an ice bucket. I'd ask him where he's planning on staying tomorrow but what's the point. We'll wind up at the same place anyway.

Inside 200k

It's a distance known to all randonneurs. If you are not familiar with how far 200k is then you are not a true randonneur. Now imagine it without a bike. That's what we have left. We can do it but there is still a lot of meat left on the bone.

Each week we treat ourselves to a hotel stay. Last night was one of those nights. We had our own room and our own bathroom which had towels and soaps and everything! We had a small balcony that looked out over the Roman bridge. Amy loved monitoring the pilgrims entering the village across the bridge. She had the perfect view. We knew all of them. Most we knew by name. Here comes Freddy. Some we knew by home country. The Spanish couple is coming. Some we knew by what had happened to them. Here is the woman that had her pack stolen today. Can you believe that? She went into the bushes for a nature break and left her pack at the edge of the trail. Just then a car stopped and grabbed the pack. Two mountain bikers saw the heist and gave pursuit but only succeeded in gathering clothing items as they were being discarded from the fleeing car. Fortunately she had all her valuables in her fanny pack which she was still wearing. When we saw her at dinner she had already been given a new pack from the hostel where she was staying that night.

We reluctantly left our hotel and sought out breakfast. None was to be found. Café con leche would have to wait until Ponferrada. Oh was the wait ever worth it. We scored the best coffees of the trip. Top notch latté art paired with a gofre with strawberry sauce and cream and you have a breakfast worth walking 5 miles for.

Across the street was an impressive Templar Knights castle and we had a look around the outside but decided against the full tour as we had 16 K to click off before our sleep stop.

Ponferrada is a big city. It's a bustling place and like all of the big cities we've traversed along the Camino, we found a longitudinal park/greenway to follow. This time it was as we exited to the east. Many locals were walking their dogs. One older lady told her dog to "look at the pilgrims!" Of course the dog had already smelled us long ago. It did run up to us briefly but then was diverted to another dog who was entering the area. Pilgrims are a dime a dozen in this park.

We hip hopped with the hippest peregrinos of the Way, the French long-boarders, all day. After crossing a few nondescript suburbs we re-entered beautiful vineyards. These are of the Bierzo region. We found time to stop at a vineyard that gave pilgrims a free tasting with a small bite to eat. We felt obliged. We then knocked off the last few K through more grapes with leaves of splendid fall colors of yellows and reds, although difficult to capture with mostly overcast skies. We now find ourselves in an albergue in Cacabelos and we've hit the jackpot again. We've got a triple room all to ourselves and our own bathroom. This time we are supplying the towels though. We know most of the people staying here. All pilgrims. Time to grab a beer and some pulpo (octopus). There is less than 200k to Santiago.

Unburden Yourselves

We attended the pilgrim's mass at 7 in Rabanal. The monks weren't chanting this evening because only one was in town. He was saying mass along with our Colombian friend Padrecito Freddy. In attendance was the French family except for the 5 month old and the mother who stayed behind at the albergue. The father and five children occupied a pew toward the back of the small chapel but then were invited into the choir seating to the side of the altar. The father was asked to do the readings in Spanish and he did them beautifully. The remainder of the mass was in English and during the homily we were reminded that tomorrow we would be visiting the Cruz de Ferro, the highest point on the Camino where we should unburden ourselves of things that we were carrying but did not require. By tradition, pilgrims carry stones to this point and then unload those stones at the cross. There is quite a pile. I was carrying two.

We left mass in a light rain and made it back to the warmth of Albergue El Pilar. There was quite a gathering in the main room and a half dozen new peregrinos had rolled in. Including Jason, a mountain man from SW Virginia who loves Asheville and could serve as a double for Hagrid in the Harry Potter movies. This was the last night that the albergue bar would be open for the season so the owner was emptying the keg. Emptying it into pitchers that were being brought to the big table that we were all gathered around. We did our best to help out.

When we retired to our bunks the rain was lashing the building. It was supposed to rain all night. And it did. When I woke up it was still dark. I wanted to check on the election results but I had to go outside to get a signal. I texted my son Patrick. He delivered the devastating news. I felt sick, standing in the dark cold with strong, gusting winds. I went into the dining area to warm up by the fire and found the entire French family gathered around a small table eating chocolate sandwiches. I felt better immediately.

I really love the Avett Brothers. That's one that NC got right, TAB. Anyway in "Head Full of Doubt" they sing, "Your life doesn't change by the man that's elected". Amen! I decided that we had work to do. Time to get our game faces on. First on the agenda, climb a mountain.

The rain had stopped but the wind was on gale force and many of the mountain tops were hidden in the low lying clouds. Today's stage would take us to the highest point of the Camino at 1499 m. That is higher than our crossing of the Pyrenees which is now closed until the Spring. In fact both crossings from St Jean Pied du Port are now closed. A Spanish pilgrim died this week trying to cross the lower alternate route. Now that alternate lower route is not even an option.

The storm that raged as we slept erased all remnants of snow at the Cruz de Ferro. The huge pile of stones remained and we added ours.

There is a road that parallels the Camino coming down from the cross and our skateboarding friends were planning on a quick trip down. They had even sent their bags on by car transport so the could shred unencumbered by heavy backpacks. We were worried for their safety but they said not to. We saw them later that day at the bottom looking quite happy and intact. As we made our way down from the top the skies brightened and the sun even peeked out. What started as cold, dark and dreary turned into a glorious day. Even without us worrying about it.

We are now in a small hotel in the beautiful Roman village of Molinaseca. We had some tapas at the adjacent bar and Clare received advice on her knee from a local who has done the Camino many times. This included an ice pack and wrap for her knee. Now hitting the hay for another day tomorrow. I'm sure the sun is going to come up here just like back at home. Peace ✌️