This Can’t be Italy

May 18, 2013 — Spoleto to Ceselli

Our room for the night in Spoleto had three beds — two singles and one double — and somehow I managed to score the double! That meant a luxurious night in a bed which was not only big, but comfortable. I slept well.

We awoke at 6:30 to discover the water was back on, so it was showers all around, followed by a breakfast of brioches (croissants) and Nutella, which seems delightfully omnipresent. By 8:30 we were out the door, then off to the ATM for cash, then up to the top of town to find the waymarks for our route.

At the sunny Duoma Piazza we discovered the road blocked due to more filming of the Terence Hill show. Next to the policeman who told us to find another way to our goal was our friend Daniele, with Atan. He was eagerly awaiting Terence Hill’s arrival so he could get an autograph, and it was great to share a final “arrivaderci!”

Our detour led us handily to the necessary waymarks and we were soon climbing east of the piazza toward the castle above. The castle sits on a circular mountain above the city and we walked around its base to the side opposite the city, where we discovered an enormous stone bridge that stretched across the canyon to the next mountain. Our waymarks directed us across the bridge and we made the most of the acrobatic walk, snapping photos of the wooded mountains and distant valleys.

At the end of the bridge the signs directed us to a steep, gravel path that switched back and forth up the mountain, climbing 300 meters (900 ft) in two kilometers (1.4 miles) through thick forest to the tiny settlement of Monteluco. Here we found a hotel with an outdoor bar, where we enjoyed an orange juice and rest, well-earned after our tiring climb.

As we paid the bill, Sebastian pointed out an old motorcycle sitting across from the bar. “Come,” the bartender said, and he led us back to his shop/showroom full of restored and nearly-restored Italian bikes. We recognized Moto Guzzi, Vespa, Piaggio, and many others. After admiring his motorcycles and thanking him for the tour we headed along the path and discovered a small, medieval Franciscan monastery from the year 1218. We toured the tiny monks’ cells, met a young friar, and asked him to stamp our pilgrim credentials, a task to which he cheerfully obliged.

We headed again to the trail, knowing we were only part way through with today’s ascent. After first missing our marker near a field below the monastery we rejoined the gravel path up the mountain. By noon we reached the summit of our climb, Valico Castel del Monte, nearly 500 meters (1500 ft) and just 7 km (4.5 miles) from our starting point in Spoleto. As we shared a lunch of bread sticks, tomatoes, cherries and cheese looking down on a view of green mountains and rich valleys we congratulated ourselves on how quickly our legs were at pilgrim strength, allowing us a big climb in good time with little pain or weariness. After four days we felt ready to climb anything.

For today’s hike it was all downhill from here. We walked down and down, by vast vistas of mountains and valleys, through the ghost village of Sensati, then past a cemetery and the tiny town of Nevi. Finally at about 3:30 we reached Ceselli and were waved into the town’s single hotel, “Il Ruscello,” by it’s proprietor. Famished as we were by now we accepted his offer to take us to Schreggino, where we had beer and ice cream for snacks and bought pasta for dinner. Arriving back in Ceselli we had showers, did laundry, then cooked our dinner, which we enjoyed over a bottle of the local vintage.

Most surprising of the day was the realization that the miles of green mountains we’d enjoyed were Italy. I’d always thought Italy was made up of dry grass, barren hills and lone cypress trees pointing to the sky. Turns out this part of Italy could just as easily be the hills of North Carolina or France or Wisconsin. Today was a beautiful experience in joy and beauty in a warm, green place with dear friends. A day that began in an annoying detour ended in a gracious meal of pasta and wine and loving conversation.

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June 10, 2011 O Cebreiro to Samos

Out the door of my room at a private home at 07:30; had breakfast at the same restaurant as last night’s dinner, and off on long walk to Samos. Walked down to Triacastela by myself. This downhill stretch is definitely a challenge. Then met Rosemary of San Diego and walked with her part of way to Samos. Met Karl of Ventura CA at Alto de Poio and revealed my new plan to follow through on my idea to write a camino murder mystery. Central figure would be a Catholic priest struggling with his vocation who walks the camino. First day out of St. Jean 2 Israeli hikers killed by hanging — using sailing knots. Group including priest and German firefighter and German school teacher try to solve mystery that hinges on who among 10 people that passed through cabin at top of Route Napoleon is the actual killer. Thought long through the day of Catholic priests’ inner struggles made harder when he meets his alter ego — a good looking Methodist minister/camino regular who seems to have it all under control.

Arrived Samos to stay at albergue in monastery. Albergue 1/2 full in basement of monastery. Spanish tour of the monastery at 17:30 then Vespers with loud pipe organ at 19:30. Kurt from Ventura there as well as Mishael — otherwise no one I knew. So no need to socialize which is a little bit of a relief after so much visiting over so many days. Instead checked email and got an early start to bed. Cold showers as the albergue had run out of water some time, maybe years ago. Paintings on the wall are primitive, but somehow it feels nice to fall asleep in a monastery.

July 21, 2010 Cea to Oseira to A Laxe

Had one of the toughest days yet. The day started at the delightful little town of Cea. I’d had dinner last night with Ramon and Magdalena, two funny Spaniards. Then an English speaking Spaniard wanted to have a beer. So I got back in to the albergue around 10:30 and settled down in my top bunk.

I slept fine, but as usual too short because of the mass exodus from the albergue at 05:30. I finally dragged myself out of bed at 06:30 and hit the road 1/2 hour later.

Sometime before Oseira I caught up with Kristina, an older Polish woman, and Francisco from Portugal. Although they don’t share a common language somehow they’re stuck together like glue. Francisco has what the Bible would call a “withered arm” which means that besides his arm being small and not useful he can’t carry a backpack. Instead he has a suitcase on wheels – which must be an enormous challenge in these very rough paths. I also soon met Pascal and two Italians. We arrived together at the incredible monastery of Oseira. I attended 10:30 prayer office with the monks and some of this gang. If I were a multimillionaire I would buy these monks a new pipe organ to replace their cheap electronic. Other than the odd sounds of their organ the service was very nice. it was held in the balcony of the beautiful monastery church. The service was a half hour in length and afterward BrotherThomas, who runs the gifts shop, gave me a tiny painting of the face of Jesus.

Kristina, Francisco and I soon took off for the day’s destination, Castro do Dozon, about 10 kms beyond the 9km we’d already walked. I soon left behind the two of them and got in my walking groove, with this stretch pretty deserted since it’s a longer option to go via the monastery from Cea.

After a bit I saw the two Germans ahead — the ones I’d seen at the albergue with their young child in a stroller. They were clearly struggling on the rough path with their baby, Jacob, and his stroller. I helped them through the worst of it but left thinking they’d made a huge mistake to try this with the baby.

Given the extra time for the monastery I arrived fairly late at the day’s goal, only to learn that the albergue at Castro Dozon was full. Next albergue: 19 kms away in A Laxe. So I set out at 15:00 to walk the extra miles for what I believed to be a total of 37kms.

As the distance dragged on I was clearly flirting with my endurance boundary. Every step was painful and the goal seemed only slowly to get closer. I stopped to rest every hour, then every half hour. As I approached the albergue a van full of kids pulled up – the same kids from Lasa with the small backpacks. I couldn’t believe it. They were going to beat me to the last bed at the albergue. Sure enough, I headed to the door and a sign was already posted, “Completo.” I was stunned. I asked the hospitalera if she had any beds at all. She said no, though there were beds another five kms away. I was desolate, and sat down in the lobby of the albergue with a look of profound sadness on my face (i.e. I was almost in tears). But as we were talking the kids and their leaders from the van were listening. They invited me to stay with them in a backroom with mats on the floor. I enthusiastically said yes and they showed me the room, laid out my mat, and put the sheet on one for me. Some of the kids tried out their English a little on me to be friendly. End result, they get Saint of the Day in my book. I had become something of a curiosity for them and perhaps also an opportunity to express their Christian charity.

Since it was already 8:30 and the doors lock at 22:00 I set down my stuff and walked the .5 km to the restaurant. As I was finishing, who should appear but Artur of Estonia who had arrived at the albergue some hours earlier and already had a bunk. We briefly chatted before I headed to the albergue for bed. The hospitalera insists that my mileage today was actually 42 kms, and I believe her. I think this ties for my longest camino day yet, and I now know my limit — about 40 km, thank you.

Tomorrow Artur and I will head out at a reasonable hour to Ponte Ulla, an 18 km walk. I’m two day’s ahead of plan so I need to cool my jets in order not to arrive too early in Santiago.

July 18, 2010 Vilar do Barrio to Xunqueria de Ambia

Yesterday I had Wi-Fi so was really glad to be able to Gail my updates. Today, no such luck. I wrote my iPhone emails to Gail at the albergue in the little farm town of Xunquiera de Ambia. There were not many services there, but at least there were some bars and restaurants and the huge church in this cute little town.

Before dinner last night in Vilar do Barrio I stocked up on fruit, water, and cheese for the next day’s walk. On the recommendation of Manuel, son of the owner at the casa rural where I stayed, I had eaten dinner at a tiny restaurant without even a sign outside. The owner/cook/waitress was a 70ish year old woman who made a very nice enselada mixta and a big bowl of caldo galego, my first time trying this Galician classic soup. It’s made simply of potatoes, greens from a peculiar Galician plant, and various spices. Simple but tasty. She was disappointed I didn’t eat the entire bowl, but I was just too full. For that plus bread and wine she wanted to charge me 8€, but I insisted on 10.

After waking from a good sleep I packed and headed out the door for a short day’s walk. I had debated pressing on to Ourense, but given it is Sunday I decided a shorter day and potential church mass would be best.

The day alternated between sunny farm roads and shady pathways, punctuated by sleepy towns. Sheep in the meadows talked loudly to each other while their shepherd looked on. Cows, dogs and cats walked the roads, the dogs and cats, unlike the cows, being nice enough to use private toilets. Cow droppings are one of the charms of Galicia that it takes the most time to adjust to.

Just after I set out I was passed by a group of seven Spanish boys of 15-20ish with small backpacks. After a bit I passed them while they stopped to talk, rest, and smoke. After a time they passed me again, and I caught up again during their break. We all arrived at the Xunqueira albergue at the same time, 11:00 — they the hare and I the ancient sea turtle.

Although the albergue was not supposed to open until 12:30 the hospitalera of this modern and attractive albergue allowed me to leave my backpack and head to the 12th c. church for mass.

The church is a gem of Romanesque architecture, dark but simple and beautiful. Filling the walls are several ornately carved reredos, including two with mi hermano Santiago. There’s also a balcony organ that, according to the secretary who gave me my sello, is 300 years old.

I enjoyed the service, but also had one of those church moments that will certainly make it into a sermon. I sat down in a pew, thirty minutes early for the mass, one of six people among the 40-odd pews. A thirty- something woman came in and, among all the available seats chose to sit in my pew, about three feet to my left. In a few minutes another much older woman came in and sat to my right, then another woman joined our merry group between me and the woman on my left. I counted perhaps 20 people in church now, with 20% of us in one pew and ten minutes left until the service was to begin. Clearly I had sat in “their” pew, but rather than get up and move to another pew I decided to become one of “them.” We worshiped, shared the sacrament, and mumbled our ancient prayers together (in two languages). I smelled their perfume, my first in a week. I halfway expected (and hoped for) a lunch invitation, but suspect they had caught a whiff of Eau de Pelerin (no shower yet after 14 km in the hot sun) and left in dismay.

Met Andre, a québécois gentleman, on the return from church. He’s walked all the French camino routes over the years and once all the way to Santiago. Like most long distance pilgrims on the VDLP he’s now slowing down to time his arrival for July 24 in Santiago.

Shower followed by update writing. Laundry later. Cervesa at the nearest restaurant next. Hot day outside. Windows in the albergue closed to keep out the hot air. A kissy young couple from Seville who’d been at Lubian and who witnessed my defeat at Campobecerros, are taking their siestas on (blessedly) two bunks on the other side of the room. At 14:45 I left to explore the town, find dinner, and prep for tomorrow’s walk into Ourense. Dinner was a joyous affair with Andre and many other pilgrims in a restaurant a few hundred yards below the albergue.

July 17, 2010 As Eiras to Vilar do Barrio

Last night in the distance I’d heard the barking of wild dogs as I fell asleep and then dreamt about confrontations with hungry canines as I lay on my picnic table. Rather than being eaten by wild dogs I’d slept soundly through the evening and woke up first at 4:45, then snoozed until 6:30. It seemed incredibly cold and I dressed in extra layers, then headed down the hill at 07:00 toward Lasa, the place I’d hoped to reach last night. The 6.5 km were all on pavement and I made it there by a little after 09:00.

Lots of teenaged pilgrims with tiny backpacks were leaving town at this cushy hour. I realized then it was Saturday, one week before Santiago Day and I was seeing the first of the fiesta crowds. I’d see these teens and their supply van a few times over the next days.

After a cafe con leche I began looking for bottled water and food for the day’s journey. A lesson from the Via de la Plata: stock up the night before because when you wake up everything will be closed. Sure enough the tienda was closed (no water or actual food), but a panaderia was open. They gave me tap water and sold me two chocolate covered, cream filled croissants. These would be my provisions for the 423 meter/8 km climb that awaited me — the climb the guidebook says is hardest of the Via de la Plata.

I walked through two tiny towns, covering 6.7 kms of fairly flat ground, then began the ascent at Tamicelas. Of course neither town had stores of any kind.

Immediately I felt the effects of yesterday’s 41 kms. Every step was a slog, with my feet tired and sore and the morning mist having been replaced by a blazing sun. The climb was relentless and sweaty and the morning’s croissant was a brick in my stomach. I arrived at the town of Albergueria, famous on the Via de la Plat for its pilgrim bar and my best hope for a real lunch today, only to find it closed. A nice man assured me in Galego that the owner would be back in a half hour. An hour and a half later still no owner. Fortunately, though, the grocery truck (tienda on wheels) arrived, allowing me a lunch of nectarines and cheese. One of the bar’s customs is to hang a scallop shell from the ceiling with the name of each pilgrim who stops there. I was also hoping for a sello for my credentiale with the bar’s name. No luck. Armed with carbs and protein but no memorial shell or sello I set off at 14:30 for the day’s final walk — 7.3 kms downhill to Vilar do Barrio.

The wait at the bar had given me a chance to rest my feet and even catch a short snooze on the bench across the street from the bar. This rest allowed me to push through this challenging phase without a pause, and I arrived at Vilar do Barrio at 17:00. My first stop was the albergue, which I was told was full because of the arrival of a busload of young pilgrims with small backpacks. The kind hospitalera set me up in a casa rural for 40E that offered all the comforts of home (except for Gail, our dog, and our cat). Manuel, son of the owner, did my laundry smelly and wet laundry (no charge). I wrote on my iPhone to Gail as I waited for a bar of soap and a shower. No answer from Manuel or his mom yet on a bar of soap, but I did get a restaurant suggestion and I’ll head there at the traditional Spanish dinner hour of 21:00.

My big walk yesterday put me 1.5 days ahead of plan. I’ll spend the extra 1/2 day tomorrow by walking only the 13.5 kms to Xunqueira de Ambia. I look forward to seeing the 12th century monastery there. With my extra day I will probably take a rest day at Ourense, but may instead get to Santiago a day early.

Here are distances so far:

  • July 14 – Puebla de Sanabria to Lubian. 29.5 kms
  • July 15 – Lubian to Vilavella. 12 kms.
  • July 16 – Vilavella to As Eiras. 41.1 kms.
  • July 17 – As Eiras to Vilar do Barrio. 25.1 kms

Total distance 107.7 kms (27kms per day)

June 8, 2008 Fromista to San Zoilo

After a long day yesterday I decided to take it a little easier today, and I had read in the Brierley guidebook about an interesting monastery/hotel outside Carrion de los Condes. I left Fromista, keeping an eye out for Trevor and Danni, whom I believed were behind me.

After a couple of hours I came to Villalcazar de Sirga, home to one of the most interesting of camino churches. The reredos there date from the 12-14th centuries and the Gothic architecture is unspoiled by renovations, damaged only by the erosion of time and weather. It’s hard to imagine now how a tiny village could have created such an amazing church, but clearly the town was much larger in the 12-14th centuries when the church was constructed. Here at Villalcazar I met an interesting Canadian woman who worked at a seminary in Montreal or Toronto and was aware of some of the staff at the seminary I attended near Chicago.

As instructed by Brierley, I walked through the town of Carrion de los Condes and made my way across the river to the Hotel/Monastery of San Zoilo. On the south side one would guess this was a modern hotel. On the north side, though, is an historic entryway to the monastery. In between are two amazing cloisters and a grand chapel for the former monastery. My room was in a monk’s cell, just off the cloister, and the massive and ancient wooden doors hid a modern and comfortable room inside. This was one of the most amazing hotels of the camino and I was glad to be able to afford the premium fare after many nights in low-cost albergues. At dinner I discovered the Canadian woman I’d met earlier. She’d been intrigued by my description of the hotel earlier in the day and had also decided to stay here. She mentioned that, as she had sent home stories of her camino to her husband, he had decided it was something he needed to do. So he would be joining her in a day or two in León.

I settled in for one of my best camino nights so far, looking back with some pride to the over 350 kilometers I’d traveled. As I calculated the distances I realized that in the next couple of days I’d reach the halfway point of my camino. I felt sad that this great adventure was already nearly halfway done.