Wednesday 20 September 2023 – We hadn’t too many kilometres to cover today (just the vertical metres in the ascent which I’ve already expatiated on), and the weather forecast showed no meteorological threats, so we didn’t feel the need to rush out. If you’re in a rush, you can view the usual summary of the route and the photos on the Relive video rather than enduring my commentary below.
We departed Ambasmestas at about 0830,
in cool weather with a lot of mist in the hills we were headed for. At first we walked on the road, which led gently upwards past allotments and other crops, such as this quince orchard
and the first village was Vega de Valcarce,
a town somewhat larger than Ambasmestas and with sophisticated touches of civilisation, such as a pharmacy and ATMs. We didn’t stop, but carried on along the road, which carried indications that conditions might not always be benign in these here parts.
Our first stop was at the next village, Las Herrerías,
where we had a quick coffee. Soon afterwards, the road steepened noticeably,
and the Camino route left the road for a track which was steep and stony,
sometimes muddy, and in many places covered in an inconvenient amount of horseshit.
Presumably the horses saw the gradient and crapped themselves. The amount of manure diminished as we ascended, I guess because more and more of the horses using this track were running on empty as they got higher.
We had a welcome break at the next village, La Faba, in a somewhat idiosyncratic albergue-cum-bar.
We pressed on, up the steep track
View up
View back
and passed our first palloza, a traditional style of construction
in this case used only for animals, but – as we shall see later – also built as combined dwellings for humans and shelter for animals.
As you’d expect from climbing up the side of a hill, the views were pretty respectable.
We soon crossed from the province of Castilla y León into Galicia.
and very shortly found ourselves at the outskirts of O Cebreiro, the name of which had been swirling around in my head to the chorus tune of the rugby song version of “John Brown’s Body”. The rugby song is “Oh, Sir Jasper, do not touch me”, sung to the tune of “Glory, glory hallelujah”, and I was getting “O Cebreiro” instead of “Oh, Sir Jasper”. Such is the intellectual level my mind achieves when faced with a steep uphill trek.
O Cebreiro is a sort of living museum
consisting of buildings in the traditional style, including some pallozas. Most of the palloza constructions, one of which was attached to our hotel,
are locked and shuttered, with no public access. One of them, though (top left in the above gallery) is set up as an exhibition space
with someone there to explain which was the space where the animals would live (now a handicraft exhibition area) and, where the kitchen was, and so forth. The leaflet accompanying this palloza describes the style as Celtic, which is a bit of a puzzle for me; yes, there are strong Celtic links in Galicia, but the nearest that Great Britain gets to palloza buildings are iron-age round houses.
An important building in O Cebreiro is the Sanctuary
where a daily mass is held, and outside which is a bust of one Don Elías Valiña Sampedro (1929-1989).
He was the pastor of O Cebreiro until his death and was almost single-handedly responsible for the revival of the Camino as a pilgrimage route, organising the clearing of parts of the route that had become impassable and instigating the system of yellow painted arrows that guide pilgrims at critical points along the way; an important man in the Camino world.
We had a very engaging lunch in the O Cebreiro restaurant, which involved tasting the local hooch
in the company of some boisterous Italians. Afterwards we found that the rather misty weather had improved to the point where I could use my drone to take some aerial pictures.
The Sanctuary
Today’s stats, then. I think Relive added some unnecessary wanderings in its recording, so I’m taking Jane’s MapMyRun figure of 14.3km as the distance we covered today, giving us a total of 642.5km – half a mile short of 400 miles in total. Garmin credits us with a total ascent of 817m, which includes some going up having gone down a bit; we started at 609m and finished at 1300m above sea level. My knee gave me no trouble at all, I’m glad to say.
The weather outlook tomorrow is rather uncertain. We’ll probably get wet at some stage. We also have to descend quite sharply, back down some 700m, as we head to Triacastela, about 21km away. Here’s hoping that the way down is less horrific than the ghastly Molinaseca approach we suffered a few days ago. I will, of course, report back, so please return to find out how it went.
Tuesday 19 September 2023 – The transit into Galicia is the third and final Big Climb of the Camino. Day 1 – crossing the Pyrenees – has the largest vertical ascent of 1428m. Days 27 and 28 between them take the weary pilgrim up 735m to the highest point on the Camino. We have in front of us tomorrow the prospect of quite a steep ascent to O Cebreiro. Today, the task was to get to Asbestos Ambasmestas (for some reason, this is the village name which has consistently given us the most difficulty in recalling it). As many people would say, absolutely enraging me in the process, there are two choices.
NO!
There is ONE choice, between TWO alternatives, OK? Is that clear?
So, a steady ascent, or a longer route with a hill in it (quite a big one, actually – check out the axes and the vertical totals)?
The Steve Walker of a year ago – or even two months ago, come to think of it – would have dismissed any suggestion of taking the right-hand route as coming from someone of unsound mind. The Steve Walker of today, however, gammy knee and all, was game for the hilly route.
That, mind you, is because the Steve Walker of today has been unable, despite 30 days of practice, to translate from graphs such as the above to an accurate understanding of what’s involved.
You can get the usual summary of route and photos from this Relive video.
We set off at 0830 into a cool, clear morning, bidding farewell to Villafranca as we crossed the medieval bridge.
At the decision point between the routes my attention was distracted by having to avoid a couple of cyclists and before I knew properly what I was doing, I was toiling up a path that was much, much steeper than I had thought it would be.
The view up
The view down
I paused to take a valedictory photo of the view across Villafranca
and to unship my walking poles, unused for over two weeks since we exited Castrojeriz on September 3, just a couple of days after we left Burgos. They made the rest of the ascent a great deal easier, and it was actually quite gratifying to note that both of us were still capable of managing a pretty stiff climb without actually finding it unpleasant.
To start with, there was quite a lot in common with our Day 1 climb
but as we ground our way up the hill we gradually emerged from the mist because we rose above the clouds. This gave us another wonderful set of views.
The path eventually levelled out
and entered a landscape of chestnut trees
which went on for some considerable distance
including departing from this optional trail and striking out along a faintly-discernable track between the trees.
Eventually, and inevitably, we reached and passed the highest point and had to make our way down.
The path down was, if anything, steeper than the ascent, and was quite demanding, but nowhere near as unpleasant as the hideously rocky drop into Molinaseca that had made my knee question my fitness for this whole thing; indeed I was glad to note that my knee seemed able to cope with both today’s ascent and descent. There were decent descent views to distract me.
The one thing that this route option didn’t have was any chance of a refreshment stop whilst on the hill. So it was nice to come into range of Trabadelo
which offered many possibles for a coffee. This being Spain and the time by this stage being nearly midday, of course most of them were closed. But we wandered determinedly about until we found the municipal albergue which also featured an open bar, and got ourselves outside juice (Jane) and beer (me) and crisps (both of us).
By this stage we had joined the other route option, which was a long and steady, but gentle, climb. (Incidentally, a friend of ours who walked the Camino last year and who took the road route out of Villafranca, commented that it was really dull, which merely increases my smug satisfaction at our route choice. Sorry, Karin!)
You’ll have noted the motorway in pictures above; the path took us underneath it,
and basically followed the river Valcarce upstream beside the road that the motorway had largely rendered redundant and which was therefore pleasantly quiet.
I’d hate to meet the spider that wove this web
We passed motorway services
on the way into the village of Portela, which, although it had its crumbly bits
was in surprisingly good shape.
It featured one mystery vignette,
as well as a rather charming Ermita With No Name
and a restaurant engagingly called “Rock and Roll Pizza”.
From there it was a short and pleasant walk
to Abstemious Ambasmestas
which is somewhat overshadowed by the passing A6
which is the motorway taking traffic from Castilla y León into Galicia.
And Galicia is our target tomorrow, via O Cebreiro, which looks like being a stiff climb of about half as much again as we ascended today.
The consolation is that there are three villages along the route and the profound hope is that the potential business model, of hordes of pilgrims looking for a rest and refreshment stop, will encourage at least one establishment to be open in each place. If not, then I think we’ll still have proved to ourselves that we can do the climb; but it would be nice to arrive in the least grumpy frame of mind possible.
Today’s stats. We ascended a total of 620m in a distance of 17.8km (there was some extra as we searched for beer refreshments). So we have now covered a total of 628.2km, a smidge over 390 miles.
The forecast for tomorrow seems currently not to involve rain, but I think it’ll be quite cool at the top, maybe 15°C, with something of a breeze. We’ll be spending the night at O Cebreiro in some interesting-looking accommodation. If weather permits, I hope to be able to get the drone up to take some aerial photos. If you return to these pages, you’ll find out whether I was successful or not.
Monday 18 September 2023 – Yesterday was our 30th segment of the Camino, and we only had a short distance, 10km or so, to cover to Villfranca del Bierzo, so there was no time pressure upon us. We wandered down a few minutes after the official start of breakfast to fuel ourselves up for the day. There were only two tables set – ours and another group of about eight French people who were seated at a table presided over by someone who appeared to be in priestly dress.
After a workmanlike meal, we decided we might as well get under way, so departed at about 0830 into the gathering day. You can see the Relive here if you’d like a summary.
This was our chance to take a look at Cacabelos, since we hadn’t done this the day before. It’s a long, thin town
with a few quirky little corners as one walks through
to the Plaza Mayor.
In the UK, the local press are having a hard time of it. Out here in Spain, “local press” means something quite different, as we saw as we walked out of the town.
This is a very large press for local winemakers to use. There’s a helpful diagram on the side,
which is just as well, as I couldn’t figure out how it was supposed to work.
We soon reached open country
which is very clearly wine country. A little further on there is a decision point where one might opt to wind one’s way through the vineyards or carry on basically by the road for a spell. We opted for the former, and were very glad we did, because we were treated to a very fine selection of views as we went along.
In some cases, the views were a little obscured
which made me wonder: if a view like this went viral over the internet and lots of people made rude comments about it, would it be a social media pylon? Thank you. Thank you for listening to my joke.
Other noteworthy points along the way: for the first time in Spain, we saw grapes actually being harvested;
we passed through a remote village called Valtuille del Arriba, which had some attractive buildings but was also quite clearly crumbling round the edges;
and we were passed by the French group we’d seen at breakfast.
Jane found this little vignette charming, but I have to say I didn’t. I’m not a religious man and the rather slavish devotional nature of the procession made me feel quite uncomfortable. However, I guess this group was closer to the “authentic pilgrim experience” (watch James Nesbitt in The Way to understand that allusion) than I.
We rejoined the main Camino route pretty much on the outskirts of Villafranca del Bierzo, and it’s a route that gives a very impressive overview of the town.
Villafranca is not just yer ordinary village; it holds a special significance on the Camino Francés as “la pequeña Compostela”, little Compostela. The Camino takes you past the Santiago Church
with its “Door of Forgiveness”, Puerta del Perdón.
Passing through this door, which is open in Holy Years (plus completing a bunch of other tasks to show one’s devotion and worthiness) provides a “plenary indulgence” – forgiveness for one’s sins. There are many churches around the world with such portals but this is the only church outside Santiago on the Camino where this is possible, a status conferred by Papal diktat in the middle ages, for those who cannot physically complete the journey to Santiago. It’s possibly this that qualifies Villafranca for its nickname.
Just by the Santiago church is a huge castle,
the Castle-Palace of the Marqueses de Villafranca. This is not generally open to the public, but these days is used as an event venue.
As you’d expect for a town with its history and Camino status, Villafranca has many chunky religious buildings. The Church of St. Nicholas, now being used as an albergue
and the Colegiata de Santa María de Cluni
stand out, as does the Church of San Francisco, which is the huge church that we saw across the valley as we walked into the town.
We arrrived at about 11am, and our gamble that maybe our room would be ready at this early hour didn’t pay off. This left us with some three hours to fill, so we went to the Plaza Mayor for coffee and other refreshments (yes, all right, beer), where, delightfully, we met Freddie again; he had just arrived on his bicycle from Ponferrada. This, of course, called for more beer, and it became clear from increasing commotion outside in the Plaza Mayor that Something Was About To Happen. Jane asked the lady managing the bar about it, and it transpired that Villafranca was now the third place we’d visited on the Camino that was having its fiesta the day we were there.
The singer gave great value – she was on stage and singing for two hours and seemed to go down very well. I’m afraid I have no idea who she was.
We needed to sort out a restaurant for a meal with Freddie, so we wandered over to what seemed like a strong candidate, a restaurant near the Colegiata, called, amazingly, La Colegiata. On the way, we passed the Jardin de la Alameda, where the fiesta spirit was also in operation
although not all of the spectators were that bound up in the whole thing.
The restaurant has very good reviews online, but seemed very informal when we looked in. We made a 4pm reservation, hoping that the reviews were accurate, and then wandered round a bit more, taking a look at the medieval bridge which will be our ongoing route out of town
with its own pilgrim statue
and a few other odd corners of Villafranca.
La Colegiata is a cash-only restaurant, so we sought out an ATM to make sure we had enough at our disposal. The first machine took money off the debit card I used but then refused to dispense actual cash due to a “technical error”; the second at least dispensed some cash before it ate my card, which was not an outcome I was particularly pleased about. Despite this, we had a lovely meal with Freddie at this very small and informal restaurant
which has a lovely design idea for bar stools
but whose gin stocks only just about stretched to our needs. La Colegiata doesn’t have a formal menu, just cooking what’s good on the day; the lass serving us did a grand job translating this informal list for us and generally made sure we enjoyed ourselves; the food was excellent.
That was it for yesterday. I should update you with stats: the 10.3km we covered to get to Villafranca brings our total to 610.4 – 379 miles. In theory, then, we have 170km (around 105 miles) to go, but I suspect we’ll end up with a total distance in excess of the “official” version.
Today has been a rest day. Priority one was to visit the bank outside which was the ATM which had eaten my card. They were well-enough organised as to have the card ready for me to pick up, which was a considerable relief and a good start to the day.
The forecast specified a 50% chance of showers all day, so I had set my expectations for any further sughtseeing on the low side. However, it failed to rain, and so, since I had my drone with me, I thought it might be fun to take some aerial photos of all of those buildings which are difficult to capture from ground level, but particularly the castle.
Here are some of the results.
Castle
Castle
Santiago Church
Santiago Church
San Nicolas
San Nicolas
San Francisco
San Francisco
Colegiata
Colegiata
Here’s how it all fits together.
We tried to get into the Colegiata, but it’s closed Mondays. We wanted to get into the Santiago Church because of its status and also because there is reportedly a statue of St. James in full pilgrim regalia. We walked up to it, but it was closed. Enquiring at the Albergue next door, we were told that it was open from 5-7pm, so we thought we could usefully spend time taking in some lunch whilst we waited. We’d spent a little time looking through potential restaurants in the quest for a place for yesterday’s meal with Freddie, and so we went to look at one of the other candidates.
It was closed. It had closed yesterday for a fortnight.
We were on the Plaza Mayor at this stage and there are several establishments there; so we took a gamble on a place called “El Casino” and had a decent lunch, although the order of courses was somewhat affected by communication difficulties with the waitress.
Having lunched and siestaed, we toiled back up the hill to the Santiago Church at 5.30pm.
It was closed.
Enquiring next door once again established that it’s closed on Mondays. Well, I suppose even devotion has to take a rest, but it’s a shame we couldn’t see inside two of the town’s significant religious buildings.
Villafranca may be strong on religious buildings, but it’s crap at launderettes. The hotel’s laundry service was officially not available, but the nice lady at reception told us that if we were to give her a bag of washing she would return it, washed and dried, during the evening, which was good of her, as These Things Are Important, You Know. It was typical of the hotel, which is well-placed and well-organised. Like the Don Suero de Quinones in Hospital de Orbigo, it was not a large room, but it was very well laid out and, slow internet access aside, was a good place for a rest day.
That just leaves the morrow, when we start the process of crossing the hills into Galicia. We go to Ambasmestas tomorrow, just 15km away. Our choice will be to follow the road on a flat course, or to aim for more variety – and a great deal more up-and-down. One of the main deciding factors will be the state of my knee, which has been OK the last couple of days. Let’s see how energetic we feel, shall we?
