Montes de Oca | Caminoist

: Sunrise behind my back as I begin from Tosantos

: Monument at top of Montes de Oca.

: First view of welcome St Juan de Ortega

: Beautiful stone work recently restored at St Juan de Ortega

: Long walk along asphalt to Atapuerca.

: Ages and a bar for cervesa and rest.

Slept to 07:00, then breakfast of toast and cafe con leche at albergue’s comedor. Walked quickly to following towns and dodged trucks at Villafranca del Montes de Oca. Enjoyed the exercise of climb up to top of Montes de Oca, then the hot sun and endless forest became tedious. Finally came to San Juan de Ortega. Sheila of SF was behind me and looked for chair for her. Tried to borrow extra chair from solitary man and he said, “no.” Must’ve been angry because my immediate response was not nice. He must’ve understood English slang — I could see it in his face. Immediately felt guilty and began to examine my state of mind.

Then off to Ages and finally Atapuerca. I had entertained the idea of walking directly to Burgos, but was drained after a day in the sun. A cervesa at the bar followed by shower and washing of clothes at private albergue.

Had photo taken by French couple from Tosantos — Michelle and Robert of Limoges. They are very nice, but somehow my French fails when I talk to them. They have no English but many smiles and they enjoyed the chapel service last night at Tosantos very much.

Sitting now at shady portion of albergue yard, listening to birds and to pilgrims talking in Spanish. Hospitalera sitting near, reading Hape Kerkeling in Spanish. Next big task: eating a (hopefully) huge dinner.

: Belorado, I believe.

: Remind me only to walk in the springtime.

: Grañon. Saved for another time. Peaking over the ridge.

: Beautiful greens and more greens.

: The Meseta begins to spread out before us.

: Inside the sleeping quarters of the albergue at Tosantos

Back on the camino now I was ready to reintegrate myself into pilgrim life and was determined to make friends along the way toward Santiago. After an overnight at the Santo Domingo Parador I headed out to walk the path to Burgos that I’d seen from a taxi window over the previous days.

After Santo Domingo the camino rises up from the vast fields of grain toward the Montes de Oca. I walked along the path and took photos of the steeple at Grañon that rises just above a ridge, seeming to sprout from the earth like the grain itself. After Grañon I came to Belorado and considered stopping there at the albergue with a swimming pool. Instead I trudged farther, to Tosantos, and there had one of my most delightful albergue experiences.

As I walked into this three-story, parochial albergue in the quaint and tiny village of Tosantos I was introduced to Tomás, the hospitalero. He began to lecture me about the history of the region and about the camino. My college Spanish skills allowed me to catch about 1/4 of the words, but the general impression was that he was very excited about the camino and proud of his albergue. He instructed me to leave my boots on the main floor and choose a sleeping pad in the main sleeping room on the second floor, then told me all pilgrims were asked to help cook the evening meal and were invited before dinner to tour the cave above the town that held its statue of the Virgin Mary.

I finished my laundry out on the albergue’s grassy lawn, hung it up to dry, then joined other pilgrims in peeling potatoes and cutting up carrots for our dinner. At about 18:00 we headed across the highway to the parish church where a kind woman walked us up the hill to the cave chapel. The interior was quite chilly, and we pilgrims shivered as she gave us a lengthy explanation of how the Virgin is carried into town in the spring and returned to the cave in the winter (or vice versa). We were all happy to excuse ourselves and return to the sunshine outside and the warm stew awaiting us at the albergue dining room.

When we arrived we sat down to a delicious and plentiful meal of stew and salad, followed by cups of yogurt, all accompanied by loud conversation and the sounds of Taizé music played on the boom box on a shelf near the table. I learned from this experience that it is a great joy to share in cooking and eating a meal together with other pilgrims, and I appreciated the care and pride with which Tomás carried out his role as hospitalero.