My Camino de Santiago (Ghosts of the past)

Looking through the latest copy of the Radio Times I notice that there is a new television programme starting next Tuesday evening called 'Pilgrimage'. In the series, Simon Reeves a professional travel presenter apparently finds his spiritual side by following in the footsteps of pilgrims from Holy Island to Jerusalem. One of his pilgrimages is from St Omer in France to Santiago de Compostella.

 I realise that I have been a little lapse lately about posting blogs about my camino, so reading this article I am encouraged (Translates as 'needing a good kick up the backside') to  carry on writing about my adventures. Now where was I..........Oh yes, just leaving Belorado!

Today I had breakfast in the albergue, all you can eat for three euros. It sounds great although I personally can only eat so much croissant and sugary cakes first thing in the morning, so not such a great deal after all. All the American peregrinos are in their element as they are able to buy really good coffee in every bar at a very reasonable price, I on the other hand would love nothing better than a really good cup of English Breakfast Tea. As we all know you can't get good tea on the Continent.

I set off walking under an overcast sky, the sun was trying desperately hard to break through the murk but failing miserably. The first few kilometres were over fairly flat terrain until I came to the small town of Villafranca Montes De Oca. Here the trail took a steep ascent up a muddy path through woodland with fleeting glimpses of the adjoining hills and valleys. The scenery reminded me of the North Downs in Kent and Surrey.

After climbing to the top of the hill the route followed a long ridge through pine and birch forest for approximately eleven kilometres. In the past this was a wild and lonely place inhabited by bandits who used to prey on the peregrinos. Today It is still a very quiet and desolate place, except for the intermittent sound of traffic on the nearby motorway.

Approximately half way along the ridge in a very remote location I came across a large concrete memorial. This was the Monumento de los Caidos, a memorial to the Caidos (Fallen) who were executed here during the Spanish civil war in 1936 and a stark reminder of the futility of war. The mass grave contained the remains of men from the city of Burgos who were against the ruling Republican Government.  Apparently they were kidnapped during the night and driven to this lonely site where they were murdered. It was an eerily haunted place, there was no sound of birdsong or animals, only the distant hum of traffic, I am not superstitious or easily spooked but I was glad that I was not there by myself.

After a long weary walk along this beautiful ridge I descended to the small hamlet of San Juan de Ortega a traditional pilgrim halt with a bar and hostel adjoining the church. The sun had finally come out so I purchased a beer from the bar and sat outside on a bench to eat my lunch. It was still quite early so I decided to walk a few kilometres to the albergue at another small hamlet called Age's (pronounced Arches).

Today was the first of May and a public holiday in Spain just like in the UK. My stomach was feeling much better, so that evening I joined a group of fellow peregrinos in celebrating the holiday with a delicious meal accompanied with numerous beers and wine. I slept like a log that night, totally oblivious to the sound of loud snoring coming from one of the bunks in my dormitory. In the morning I woke up to find that a Spanish family with young kids and a baby had spent the night in our dormitory. They were walking the camino in sections as part of their annual holidays and it was great to see that the children in particular appeared to be really enjoying their adventure.

Winter Wonderland, Liberty & Christmas Lights

Yesterday Mrs C and I went up to London. This is something that we don,t do very often since moving to Deepest Darkest Sussex. However with Christmas on the horizon we decided to visit 'Winter Wonderland' in Hyde Park which opened last weekend. It would have been better to wait until closer to the Festive season in order to get that real Christmassy spirit but this is a very busy time of year for us. Wonderland had been hyped up in the media and proved to be as great as I hoped that it would be with a Giant Ferris Wheel, Fairground rides, a Christmas market, a Bavarian village and loads of places to eat and drink.

After a slow journey through the beautiful Sussex and Kent countryside, our train arrived at Victoria Station at about noon. We then took a slow stroll up Grosvenor Place past the rear of Buckingham Palace and Wellington Arch to Hyde Park corner, where we entered 'Winter Wonderland'. It was a crisp cold day so our first port of call was to one of the German bars for a glass of mulled wine to warm us up.

We enjoyed a lovely couple of hours strolling around the Bavarian village and the various market stalls soaking up the Christmas atmosphere. I drew the line at the rides though, some of them I was much to old for and the others looked too scary. At my age I am no longer an adrenaline junky. I limited my excitement to the food and drink. If anybody is looking for a good day out on the run up to Christmas I can thoroughly recommend a visit to 'Winter Wonderland'.

As the sun began to set we decided to visit Regent Street to see the Christmas lights which were as spectacular as ever. It has been a few years since I last saw them and they did not disappoint. Mrs C somehow persuaded me to visit Liberty store to see their decorations as well. We then walked down to Piccadilly Circus where the statue of Eros had been decorated as a giant snow globe. From here we continued into the bright lights of Leicester square and Charring Cross road, back to the station to get our train home to the sticks. It was a really fantastic day and a brilliant start to the Festive season.

This Policeman is in an amusement arcade somewhere near Piccadilly Circus and I'm sure that I used to work with this guy some time in my dim distant past.

Last of the Autumn Colours (possibly)

Little dog has been a bit grumpy lately. It's maybe because I am back working full time until Christmas, so she is missing out on the long daily walks, that we have enjoyed throughout the summer. But I think that it has more to do with the fact that she is now an old lady and has lost some of her Springer Spaniel bounce. A good yomp across the Forest will cheer her up.

The weather has been mild and wet recently and the Forest is saturated, the streams are now in full flow and everywhere is boggy and muddy underfoot. According to the Weather forecast the South Westerly lows are due to change on Tuesday with high pressure coming down from the Arctic bringing freezing nights, frost and maybe  even a little bit of snow. So with this impending winter blast in mind, Little dog and I set off for a long walk over the Forest this morning.

It was also an opportunity for me to take some last photographs of the autumnal colours before the trees finally shed their leaves. As I've mentioned before this is my favourite season, I love the cool days, the autumnal copper brown and yellow of the leaves but best of all, there are fewer people up on the Forest. Here are some of the pictures that I took today which give a good feel of what autumn is like on the Ashdown Forest.

My Camino de Santiago (Nice weather for the time of year)

Despite the rain and wind rattling the windows of the albergue I had a good nights sleep so set off in the morning refreshed. My stomach bug appeared to be getting a little better and overall I was feeling fitter. It continued to rain throughout the morning and my old waterproof jacket was starting to leak across the shoulders, wetting my back and chest. Eventually the rain stopped but then the breeze picked up so everybody began to feel slightly cold. This did not dampen our spirits though and as we passed fellow peregrinos we each greeted the other with a cheery "Buen Camino" which is the standard form of greeting along the way and the only words of Spanish that some people knew.

I passed a couple of storks foraging in a field alongside of the track. These large white birds are common all over Northern Spain and can be seen nesting on every chimney, electricity pylon and church bell tower. Each year the storks add more and more sticks to their nests, some of the ones that I saw formed cylinders of sticks about two metres high, balanced precariously on their narrow perches. The local people appeared to love having the storks nesting on the rooftops in their villages and I really appreciated seeing them as well.

After walking all morning I eventually reached the little town of Belorado at about 12:30 p.m. where I intended to stay for the night. I registered at the albergue then climbed into my sleeping bag to warm up my chilled body and get a couple of hours rest. That evening everybody enjoyed a three course peregrinos meal apart from me, I stuck to chicken soup and bread that Henry had kindly bought for me while I was asleep. The walk today had sapped my strength and although my stomach felt better than it had been, it was still a bit dicky, so I was feeling sorry for myself. Never mind though because hopefully in another couple of days I will be feeling fully fit and be able to join everybody else in partaking of the local red wine at two euros a bottle.

The weather had definitely taken a turn for the worse and was unseasonably cold in the North of Spain. The tops of the nearby mountains were covered in snow which the locals said was very unusual at this time of year. Meanwhile in the South of the country it was much hotter than it should have been at nearly 40 degrees Celsius. An article on the television news reported that farmers were throwing away the tomato crops because they had ripened to quickly and all the fruit had split their skins. It's typical of my luck, on the Costa's they were having a heatwave while we were experiencing a second winter, so much for sunny Spain. I went to sleep that night with the knowledge that tomorrow we would be climbing another 600 metres so it was quite possible that we may encounter some snow or ice. I think that I should have packed my Thermal long johns and not my shorts!

The Forest Remembers

For those people living on another planet or in the United States who may not be aware, today is Remembrance Sunday in the United Kingdom and Common Wealth countries. It is the nearest Sunday to the Eleventh of November when we traditionally pay tribute to our fallen Service Men and Women who gave everything for our freedom in the two World Wars and many other conflicts since. Why the Eleventh of November? Well that is the day in 1918 at eleven a.m. when the guns fell silent and the Armistice was signed to end four years of bloody fighting (The Great War did not actually end until several months later in 1919).

Each year at this time there are parades and church services held throughout the land to commemorate the 'Glorious dead'. In previous years I have taken part in such parades and services but this year I decided that I wanted to photograph the crowds who gather at the Airman's Grave in the Ashdown Forest. Because of the huge numbers of people who attend the service the Police and Conservators of the Forest decided to block off the approach road this year to avoid the mayhem of previous years. Therefore I left Mrs C in bed reading and Little dog looking forlornly out of the window as I set off early to the Forest.

It has been raining on and off for the past two weeks but today the Gods decided to smile on us and brought the sun out once again. I parked my car about a mile from the venue and walked in through the mud and puddles to my chosen vantage point on an adjoining ridge with panoramic views towards the Airman's Grave. For those of you unaware of this site, it isn't actually a grave but a memorial dedicated to the crew of a Wellington bomber that crashed here in heavy fog whilst returning from a bombing raid over Germany in 1941. There has been a small remembrance service held at the site for many years however recently it has become more and more popular.

I set up my camera and tripod early and waited for the appointed hour not knowing really what to expect. A short while later I could see a small trickle of people in the distance making their pilgrimage down the hill towards the grave. Within no time this trickle turned into a flood of people both on foot and horse back making their way down both ridges towards the site. Numerous pilgrims passed me, some with children, some with dogs, there was even a large walking group and running club all here to pay their respects.

As eleven o' clock drew near I could no longer see the Airman's grave because of the massed throng but could just make out the small rowan tree that stands sentinel over the memorial. On the hour I heard a bugler playing the last post and then a hush came over the Forest as everybody stood to attention for the two minutes silence.  This was followed by a fly past by two small private aircraft. I took loads of photographs of the gathered crowd and as they began to depart I walked down the hill to the grave to pay my respects and take some close up pictures of the poppies and wreaths that had been laid at the site. Although this year I witnessed the ceremony from afar I feel privileged to have been part of it. Next year Mrs C and I are planning to attend the full service.