My Camino de Santiago (The Dreaded Meseta & Whinging Pom)

Many of my fellow Peregrinos also chose Burgos as a suitable place to take a rest day. It was the first City that we had come to since leaving Pamplona so provided plenty of excellent places to eat real food instead of the ubiquitous and boring pilgrims menu.

Burgos was also the place that I lost touch with some of the friends that I had made over the preceding weeks as due to limited time schedules they went on ahead without resting. It was also the place that I made several new friends. One of them stands out particularly as we spent several days walking together further down the road and he is also one of the group who I still keep in touch with. He is another laid back American who I shall call Jacques for the purposes of this blog (still changing names to protect the innocent and not so innocent, also he is much bigger than me so I don't want to upset him).

The following morning Lucy and I left Burgos without Pablo because he decided that he wanted to find a place for breakfast before leaving the city. We followed a footpath alongside of the river to the outskirts of town, then walked through a light industrial area until we came to a motorway. Close to an intersection I saw a Hen Harrier flying slowly across a marshy patch of scrubland on the look out for a suitable meal. Apart from buzzards this was one of the few birds of prey that I saw throughout my journey.

A few kilometres further down the road we came to a small village with a bakers shop selling delightful little custard donuts. Much against my wishes and twisting my arm Lucy insisted that we bought some. We then found a little park bench on the edge of the village where we stopped for breakfast. This was also a great opportunity for a cup of tea so out came my trusty little camping stove for a brew up. I know that all my American friends will probably disagree with me but a cup of tea and a donut is far better than coffee and croissants. They really don't understand or appreciate the reviving properties of tea (I blame it on their ancestors for throwing all that tea in to Boston harbour).

Our route now led us into a section of the camino that runs through the dreaded Meseta. During my research into the camino I had read all about the Meseta, a large expanse of high open plain running all the way to the city of Leon. Apparently in late summer it is very dry and barren with very little shade. Judging distance is difficult, sources state that early in the day you can see your destination for the evening on the horizon but because of the flat wide open space it appears that you are never getting any closer to it. The reputation of the Meseta is so daunting that some Peregrinos have been known to catch a bus all the way to Leon to avoid it. I had mentally prepared myself and was really looking forward to this section of the way.

So much for an arid desert, in early May our introduction to the Meseta was large expanses of lush green fields of wheat and corn. Several kilometres along the trail we came to the village of Hornillos del Camino our stop for the night. It was still early in the afternoon when we booked into the Municipal Albergue next to the church.

The Albergue was very basic and smelled of damp, in fact there was black mould on the wall next to my bunk, never mind it was clean and cheap. Soon after booking in Pablo and Jacques arrived and joined us in our dormitory. An Englishman and his wife also booked into our room. She was very bright and cheerful but he must have been having a bad day because he immediately began moaning very audibly and profanely about the state of the albergue. Much to our amusement he kept this rant up for several minutes. With my status as an honorary Aussie I christened him 'The whinging Pom' a name that stuck.

When we turned the lights off later that night he was still whinging about the state of the place so I wished him a good night and said "Look on the bright side, it's so damp in here that there's no chance of it catching fire" This led to a lot of giggling from everybody apart from him. Still as we used to say in the Army 'If you can't take a joke you shouldn't have joined'!

My Camino de Santiago (Burgos)

Meanwhile back on Camino......I was in the city of Burgos, approximately one third of the way into my walk across northern Spain. After walking every day for nearly two weeks, It was time for a rest. So tomorrow I would take a day off to explore the city.

The first evening I went to the pilgrims mass in the Cathedral which I enjoyed even though I couldn't understand most of it as it was spoken in Spanish (they do that a lot in Spain). A group of us then went out for a meal in a delightful little restaurant which was full of locals, a good sign. The food was fantastic although the pricing was a bit weird. Henry had steak and chips and Pablo had steak, two eggs and chips, both meals cost exactly the same.

After breakfast the following morning a few of us moved to a different hostel as the rules only allow you to spend one night in a particular albergue unless you are ill. We then went to visit the Cathedral as tourists, gaining admission for half price by showing our peregrinos passports.

Burgos Cathedral of Santa Maria is one of the most beautiful of Spain's many cathedrals according to the guide book and I can testify to this being true, it is absolutely magnificent. It is the second largest cathedral in the country, built in the thirteenth century in the gothic style. Over the centuries it has been embellished by many master builders from all over europe, combining several different styles. The cathedral is a designated Unesco world heritage site set amongst bustling medieval streets, now full of designer shops. Inside it is full of a wealth of art treasures, religious icons and artefacts. Situated in the main transept crossing under the roof lantern lies El Cid and his wife.

Count Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar or 'El Cid' meaning 'The Lord' a title given to him by the muslim conquerers out of respect, is the national hero of Spain. You may remember him from the film starring Charlton Heston (the national hero of the American gun Lobby). He was born in a small village near Burgos but brought up in the city (That's El Cid, not Charlton Heston).

He grew up to be the commander-in-chief of the army of King Sancho and spent his life fighting against (and sometimes for) the invading Moors and other Spanish Kings. He died in Valencia in 1099 after recovering the city from the Moors. Legend (and the film) has it that after his death he was dressed in his armour and strapped to his trusty horse Babieca then sent out to lead a cavalry charge against the Moors and defeating them.

Later we bought some bread, cheese and sausage which we ate as a picnic in a small park alongside of the river. Dressed as we were in our walking clothes I felt like a bit of a tramp amongst the local people who were well dressed in their designer clothing. Still tomorrow we will be back on the camino amongst our own kind.

Little dog in the Downs

 It was a frosty morning in my little bit of East Sussex and I had the day off, the perfect excuse for our first walk of the year up in the South Downs. Luckily Little dog agreed with me, so with both of us dressed for the cold we drove to the car park on the long ridge above the village of Firle.

There was a cold breeze blowing in our faces from the sea as we set off along the lane towards Blackcap farm. The sun had made it's first appearance for several days and driven away the frost. In the distance I could see several small squalls out at Sea which were slowly heading in our direction, not a problem as Little dog was wearing the waterproof coat that we bought her before Christmas.

As we walked through the farmyard a border collie sitting in the back of a pickup truck announced our presence by barking loudly. Little dog put her nose up in the air and ignored all the fuss, I was glad that it was tied up. Our route took us into a long narrow valley full of mud, rocks and brambles which is appropriately called 'Poverty Bottom'. From here the path led us back up hill where we had panoramic views for miles around.

Looking back along our trail I could see the new waste incinerator in Newhaven. It's futuristic design constructed in stainless steel looks like a spacecraft has landed.  To the south was Seaford and Cuckmere Haven with the Seven Sisters beyond. One of the squalls had now reached us and it began to rain, luckily it was short lived as there was no cover up here. There are very few trees up on the downs and those that have managed to survive are shaped by the prevailing winds growing outwards more on their lea side than the windward.

Sheep have grazed the Downs since the Iron age but there is nothing for them to drink as there are no natural watercourses up here because the ground is made of flint and chalk which is fast draining. Therefore over many centuries the shepherds and farmers have solved this problem by constructing dew ponds. The ponds which look like round craters were dug and originally lined with a mixture of straw and clay which set hard and prevented rain water or dew from draining away. They were so well designed that water even remained in the ponds throughout the summer months. Most of them have fallen into disrepair today as water is pumped up from covered reservoirs.

We stopped for lunch on the northern edge of the ridge looking out across the flat plain below towards Windover Hill. Little dog is a greedy pooch with a voracious appetite for some one her size; she managed to stuff away half my pastie and most of my apple. At least she let me drink my thermos of Tea all by myself.

It was too cold to sit around for long so we got up and followed the ridge line back over Firle Beacon to the car park. There were spectacular views northwards all along the route across the East Sussex plain towards the Weald on the distant horizon. Closer at hand we passed some exmoor ponies grazing on the steep hillside above Charleston Farmhouse, now a museum dedicated to the 'Bloomsbury set' of artists and writers. Further along was Mount Caburn an iron age hill fort above the village of Glynde and the world famous opera house at Glyndebourne.

I really enjoyed our first walk on the Downs this year, the scenery was spectacular, the weather was great and the company was good; Little dog never grumbles when she is having a walk, apart from when I don't feed her my lunch quickly enough.

A Grand Day Out

Yesterday It is was four days into the new year and it was still raining constantly over this sceptre'd isle and it showed no sign of abating in the near future. The authorities have been advising people not to travel unless really necessary as many areas of the country are either under water or in danger of being flooded. However Mrs C and I had an important appointment and despite the dire warnings of impending doom we had every intention of keeping it. You see, we were going to visit the country home of Her Majesty the Queen.

Our destination was Windsor Castle and yesterday was chosen for our visit some weeks ago by dear friends of ours who had bought us tickets as a surprise Christmas present. Not wishing to disappoint either them or her Majesty (or waste the tickets) we decided to risk life and limb and brave the elements. So leaving Little dog snoring in her basket we set off on the fifty mile journey from deepest darkest East Sussex to Royal Berkshire in our trusty old automobile.

The rain poured down continuously throughout our journey and streams of water washed across many of the country roads. On the motorways our visibility was greatly reduced by spray from heavy lorries, but undeterred we pressed on, after all we didn't wish to disappoint her Majesty (It turned out that she was still in Sandringham, never mind).

Windsor is a bustling tourist town on the south bank of the River Thames about thirty miles west of London dominated by its magnificent castle, our destination. The town and castle look splendid even on a wet and dreary January day. The only thing that mars there splendour is the loud noise of jet aircraft overhead (Why did they build the castle so close to Heathrow airport)? Still a little aircraft noise and a bit of rain wasn't going to spoil our grand day out.

The castle was still decorated for the festive season with holly wreaths festooning all the lamp posts and christmas trees visible through the windows of the private apartments. The medieval fortifications, towers and buildings were very impressive and awe inspiring. Surrounding the Round Tower is a moat, long since filled in and now containing a lovely sunken garden with a series of water falls and ornate pond. Despite the weather I was able to take a few pictures.

Our tour included visiting Queen Mary's Dolls House, a miniature version of a 1920's Grand Society house complete with electric lights and running water, even the plates on the dining table were made of real silver. The State Apartments containing many fine pieces of furniture and works of art and St Georges Chapel, all of which were magnificent. There was also an exhibition of paintings and drawings by members of the Royal Family which were really impressive. Unfortunately I couldn't take any pictures as photography is banned inside of the buildings.

Mrs C and I had a brilliant day out at the castle despite the inclement weather and we are already planning a return visit sometime in the summer.

A wet and windy New Years day

Happy New Year for 2014! After a week of constant  rain and wind over Christmas, the first of  January dawned with bright sunshine streaming through the bedroom curtains................ Then I woke up! It was all just a pleasant dream, the rain is still bucketing it down outside from a leaden sky. However on the plus side the wind has died down, if only temporarily.

Little dog is suffering from cabin fever due to the lack of a decent walk. She is sulking, like a grumpy old bag lady and even looks a little bit moth eaten. We both need some fresh air but the seven day forecast shows more rain and wind for the following week without a break in sight. With no hope of a break in the weather we left Mrs C tucked up in bed with her Kindle and a cup of coffee while I put on full waterproofs and Little dog barked excitedly. Then out into the elements!

It was about 10:00 am when we set off and apart from another hardy dog walker we were the only ones daft enough to be out and about. Our route took us from our little house up to Ridgewood, along the Old Eastbourne road to the small hamlet of Palehouse Common. From there we walked along the little country lane to Framfield before cutting back across the fields to Ridgewood Village and home.

The rain poured down from the minute we left the house but this did not deter either of us. I find it quite exhilarating walking in this weather and Little dog is just happy to be out and about. I noticed that all the fields were sodden and the roads had small streams running along each verge. They ran down hill into low lying hollows that had turned into small lakes over the past few days. I've walked this route in sunny weather and these hollows are usually dry and filled with leaves but now they were in danger of overflowing and flooding the lanes.

We were out for about an hour and a half and Little dog was really enjoying her walk, she appeared to love all the water as she insisted in walking through all the little streams and puddles. On returning home her delight at the water diminished drastically when I carried her up stairs and put her in the bathtub. She loves the water but hates being bathed, still she is now lovely and clean and fit to be seen in polite company.

Mrs C and I have just enjoyed some home made curried Butternut squash soup with crusty bread for lunch and we are all settled in for the day. The wind is howling outside and the rain is lashing down against the windows but we are all cosy indoors with Little dog asleep on the sofa beside me while I write this blog entry. Hopefully Little dog will now cheer up and stop being such a grumpy old lady, but somehow I doubt it!