September 17, 2018
- Route: Fromista to Calzadilla de la Cueza
- Distance: 35.9 kilometers (22.26 miles)
I was awake before 6 am this morning, so I decided to get the heck out of Fromista. I’d seen all I’d wanted there, and was pretty sure my breakfast options would be just as mediocre as last night’s meal. I’d stocked up on some extra snacks during yesterday’s walk, so this would be a rare morning where I’d strap on my headlamp and begin walking in the dark.
While relaxing in my bunk last night, I noticed a cautionary comment on my Wise Pilgrim App. It was warning that the route out of Fromista can be a bit tricky, and recommended pilgrims scout out the first kilometer (or so) out of town to avoid taking a wrong turn. Given the late hour though, I didn’t heed this advice and opted to roll the dice. There would be plenty of other pilgrims out walking in the early morning darkness this morning, and figured I could just follow them, right?
Unfortunately, my plan turned out to be a poor one. The first 500 meters out of town seemed pretty straight-forward. Then I noticed the headlamps in front of me veering off the right and onto a dirt trail. When I arrived to the junction, I followed the path that led to the right too. This seemed logical, since much of the walking so far has followed similar patterns of being on paved or cobblestone surfaces in town before immediately transitioning to dirt roads or trails once you reached the outskirts.
It wasn’t long before the headlamps ahead of me stopped though. They swept to the left and and then back to the right. It looked like someone was either lost or dropped something on the ground. I stopped where I was to see what the heck was going on before going any further.
Within seconds, the headlamps reversed course and started walking back toward me! That’s never a good sign. It turns out, the couple at the head of the column of pilgrims veered off course while lost in conversation. And the rest of us behind them just followed along like little lemmings. Maybe I should have heeded the app’s warning and done my own reconnaissance after all!
It didn’t take more than 10 minutes to get back on course, and by then I was greeting by a spectacular sunrise. This might be my favorite part about getting up early. Seeing the sunrise makes the day feel fresh, and it fills me with optimism for what’s to come.
Carry On to Carrión
The morning’s route out of Fromista passed green fields of freshly cut alfalfa punctuated by large bales sitting here and there. This smell was a nostalgic memory for me as I walked by. I grew up with horses and farm animals, so I know the distinct smell of alfalfa extremely well, and it brought back so many childhood memories. It’s weird how one smell can take you right back to a particular moment in time.
Other than the missed turn out of Fromista, the morning was a quiet one. The only notable moment was when the Camino split into two parallel routes running between the towns of Población de Campos and Villalcázar de Sirga. I had to choose between the main Camino route or walk on the rural alternate, which follows closely beside the river.
I suspect this alternate route probably provides some well-needed shade in the afternoons, but I opted to stay on the primary route given my early hour. As a reward, I enjoyed walking through two small villages, appreciating their artwork, murals, and mosaics. The most interesting site of the morning was a robust rose garden with inspirational quotes like, “La buena educación es como el perfume de las roses, se percale deed legos.” (Good education is like the perfume of roses, it is perceived from afar – Ignacio Manuel Altamirano). It was certainly something to ponder.
After the two paths joined back up again, I entered the small town of Carrión de los Condes. The town itself wasn’t particularly memorable, but it’s still and important stop. That’s because Carrión would be the last place to get food or water for the next 17.2 kilometers (or ~10.7 miles). This would be one of those long, dry stretches through the meseta that so many pilgrims were gnashing their teeth over.
My app warned that it would be extremely important to stock up on water before leaving Carrión due to the distance between the town and little protection from the sun and wind. Although I ignored last night’s warning to reconnoiter the Camino route out of Fromista, I wasn’t taking any foolish chances with this cautionary instruction.
Each afternoon is another brutal reminder how hot the Spanish sun can be, even in mid-September. I really don’t want to risk a potential heat injury on one of these long waterless stretches. So, I topped off my water bottle, added a second water bottle to my pack, and bought a can of Coke to hold me over until the next town.
A long, hot stretch
The initial three kilometers out of Carrión was a flat road walk on an asphalt road. Roadwalking is, without a doubt, my least favorite aspect of the Camino. This afternoon was so warm that it felt like the heat from the black road was boiling up through the rubber soles of my shoes. I tried to walk on the narrow gravel edge of the road, but there wasn’t much of a shoulder to take advantage of. And the edge of the road was poorly maintained with a patchwork of higher spots from season after season of repairs.
After 45 minutes of this mundane road walking, the paved road curved around a 90-degree bend, and the Camino continued straight ahead onto a dirt road. I was grateful for the softer road surface, but the handful of trees that lined the main road just moments ago seemed to completely disappear. It was nothing more than dusty road stretching into yellow fields for what seemed like an eternity.
The sun was now blazing overhead and even my brimmed hat wasn’t enough to provide adequate shade to prevent a sunburn. One of the realities of walking this direction on the Camino Santiago means the sun rises behind you and sets in front of you, and it’s perpetually positioned in the sky to shine a bit more on your left (south) side.
As a result, for much of the late afternoon the sun feels like you are walking straight into it. Sunglasses don’t provide much relief, and your entire left side – from your face down to your arms and legs – begins to sting with the burn of too much sun. I eventually took out a scarf and wrapped it over my head and threw one loose end over my right shoulder. This seemed to provide a bit of a shield from the sun – at least as far as the left side of my face was concerned.
I watched as other pilgrims took equally creative measures to protect themselves from the intense heat. A middle aged man with a baseball cap turned the brim sideways to the left to block the brunt of the blazing sun. Another one took to wetting a bandana and draping it over his head before securing it place with his hat. Even with these precautions, many pilgrims still had a noticeably redder hue on their left side.
As I tried to ignore the scorching sensation on my cheeks, I noticed a tiny little structure coming up. There aren’t any towns out here for miles, but there was a lone shack sitting on the side of the road. In true entrepreneurial spirit, one of the locals was selling drinks and snacks from it, and set aside a small shady spot for pilgrims to rest under. Given the brutal heat this afternoon, I seriously considered stopping to take a long break. But, I knew I’d only be delaying the inevitable. I’d rather get this stretch over with so I could enjoy the more permanent shade of the upcoming town.
Are we there yet??
After three long hours on this never ending dirt road with the unyielding sun beating down on me, I was starting to worry that I wasn’t on the right road. There hadn’t been any Camino markings since I’d passed by that snack shack over an hour ago. But I couldn’t see a town in any direction for miles and miles. Based on how long I’d been walking, I knew I had to be close. But there was NOTHING out here.
My mind started playing tricks on me, and I wondered if I’d somehow gotten off track. Was that even possible? This was one the one and only road out here. I seriously doubt the Camino would have made a wild turn into the fields without some sort of sign or obvious marker. Maybe I was walking slower than normal in the sun and simply hadn’t walked 10 miles yet. But still…why couldn’t I see anything? I can usually see a tall church bell tower or some buildings in the distance long before I arrive.
As I continued to spiral with these worrisome thoughts, the dirt road seemed to climb slightly upward in elevation. It was barely perceptible, until I finally crested the hill and there – right in front of me – was a handful of white buildings rising up like a mirage. I’d finally stumbled upon the tiny town of Calzadilla de la Cueza. Breathing a sigh of relief, I could quiet my thoughts. I was there!!!
The albergue municipal was on the closest edge of town and with a giant sign announcing itself. As I stumbled inside, the stucco building felt refreshingly cool and it took a long moment for my eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness. But then, as I peered beyond the reception desk, I noticed the albergue had a a pool out back! Sweet baby Jesus. A pool. Today’s long journey would all be worth it if I could just soak my hot, tired feet in that refreshing pool water.
