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'!
Love your spirit and humor!
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