First of all, welcome to Mark and Nina Menghini who are well into the start of the Camino. Ultreia!

I am having my breakfast in the town of Cacabelos, having gotten through Ponferrada and back into the countryside. I am in Bierzo region and Cacabelos reflects a good local economy: nice homes, prosperous shops, busy streets and nice coffee shops, like the one I am in. Usually, pilgrims will stop at the first coffee bar they come across when entering a village, as I did coming into Cacabelos. But one look at the wilted croissant, and I moved on – and found the place I am sitting in, filled mostly with locals chatting about all the local news.

Explanatory note: I am going to stop using the term “coffee shop”. I am referring to bars that happen to serve coffee and croissants, or beer or herbal orujo, or whatever you happen to want for breakfast.

The puerta above marked my arrival in Villafranca del Bierzo, the ancient capital of the region. I found my hostal on the opposite side of town. It is called Las Doñas del Portazgo and is a warm and welcoming place. Do you remember how, long after you had left home, and you went back and your Mom made you feel so good and comfortable? That’s how this place is.

I finally caught up with Lisa again. We had our “arrival beer”, then met later for dinner. We talked about our adventures and the people we had met and discussed plans for the next day.

I set off from Astorga, going past the Gaudí Episcopal church and the gothic Cathedral, which stand next to each other like an old man with his grandchild. This was day 23 on the road and the beginning of the ascent to the highest point along the Camino, marked by the Iron Cross at 1500m (just under 5000 ft). It is a gentle gradient and the aroma from the pine trees wafted through the air. The days on the meseta, the high flat ground, were over.

I reached Rabanal del Camino about 1 pm so I had an hour before I could check into the Stone Boat. Rabanal is a small town of fewer than 100 souls and it was not hard to find the one who ran the tavern. I sat outside in the warming sun and had a beer. The proprietor brought me fresh pears just picked from a wild pear tree.

Rabanal’s history pre-dates the Camino as it is located near Roman gold mines and may have existed when the Celtic tribes moved west. It was a busy stop along the early Camino where pilgrims could rest before making the final ascent that would take them to the Iron Cross. More recently, but before the advent of the train, Rabanal was a busy center of the mule trains that carried Galician products including seafood to the interior. Today, it is quiet, surviving only on the pilgrim trade.

I checked into the Stone Boat and met Kim, the owner and proprietor, an American woman from Key West. The Stone Boat is small – I think only 3 bedrooms with private bath – but very nice and inviting. Kim did everything to make my stay welcoming and comfortable, including arranging a massage with Priscilla just up the road. I am not a massage guy but I thought I should experience this treat and give my feet a soothing rub for having carried me this far. I also met Jody Lielidahl who checked in at the same time. He is a writer who grew up near Mamou Louisiana, where Paula and I witnessed a very traditional Mardi Gras many years ago. That night I went to the Benedictine monastery for vespers, chanted in Latin in the Gregorian style.

I returned to the Stone Boat to make an early night since I wanted to reach the Iron Cross at sunup. Kim was still there and wrapped a piece of zucchini cake for my breakfast the following day. Up in my room, somehow I knocked my glasses off, breaking the frame as the lens bounced off the tile bathroom floor. Would this be a good omen?

I got my early start. There was no moon out and the trees shielded any starlight from revealing the path. I focused my single eye on the path to avoid any rock or root lurking to trip me. After a while, I was well out on the trail. I looked up at the cloudless night sky and saw Orion on my left and the big bear on my right. Actually, I saw twice as many stars: one clear one and its fuzzy twin next to it. I do not use a flashlight or headlamp as many early-rising pilgrims. I figure the Camino will find me. We are so used to light in our lives that our night vision has suffered. My thoughts are very different walking in darkness as compared to during the day. I turned and noticed the sky reddening. I also saw the flicker of someone’s light and knew my nighttime reverie was about to end.

I hastened along my way, stopping for a coffee and Kim’s cake in Foncebadon before continuing on to the Iron Cross to deposit my rock which had travelled with from the Pacific Ocean near Encinitas. The day was lightening so I left my broken glasses in my pocket and went along my way.

I completed the day’s stage arriving in Molinaseca after a treacherous descent starting just after El Acebo. The town is a cute but touristy town popular among pilgrims, cyclists and roadtrippers. It was tempting to stop for a cerveza but that would not have been helpful for the steep path ahead. In Molinaseca, I bumped into Francisco, Chris, Ignacio and Rafa. Ignacio told me that in the next town of Ponferrada there was a shopping center where I could possibly get my glasses repaired or replaced. After checking in to The Way hostel, I joined them in walking to Ponferrada, then bid them farewell as I departed for the shopping mall where I was able to get a temporary fix to my spectacles.

This post is already too long, so let me finish with this: the weather on my trek between Rabanal and Molinaseca was great. The sun shone with a passion and warmed up my bones which had not had a chance to thaw out on the chilly meseta. On my return from Ponferrada with vision now in both eyes, I took a taxi and asked the driver if this warm weather was normal. He told me they often have a few days to a week of warm weather in early October which they call el veranillo de San Miguel (San Martin sometimes gets the credit). It is what in the US might be called an Indian summer if we are still allowed to call it that.

I am taking a break in Molinaseca as I wait for Lisa. I may go back to Ponferrada to visit the Knight Templars castle or I might just hang out in Molinaseca.

The wind gods took a day off today. Yesterday, the trees waved their arms at me frantically. Today, they just stared as I walked by. I could feel the quiet, so much so that at one point I sat down on a rock on the side of the path, closed my eyes and listened for the silence. Not in prayer or meditation, but deep in thought. I could hear the occasional click-clack of hiking poles as a pilgrim went by and various other sounds that drifted by from afar. I thought about my parents and their parents and my children and their children. And how Paula and I are at this intersection of life through the ages.

Today was a short day, about 4 hours including a few breaks. I actually had a late start today because rain was forecast in the morning; it never came and the sunrise was glorious and it beckoned me on my way. I did run into a bit of rain, but did not need rain gear. The change in footwear helped and I enjoyed wearing sandals. I will wear sandals again tomorrow to Rabanal, and stay at the Stone Boat, which is my sister Katita’s favorite stop on the Camino.

I ran into Francisco, he of the YouTube Camino channel and good deed and he invited me to lunch in Astorga at the Cocido Maragato restaurant. A cocido Maragato is a traditional dish of this region of Leon consisting of a broth with vermicelli noodles, garbanzo beans with boiled cabbage and potatoes and a variety of local sausages and meats, including morcilla, pork belly, chorizo, pigs ear and other tasty treats.

First things first: I wanted to mention something that embodies the Camino spirit that I saw yesterday after arriving in Leon. I bumped into Francisco, the Youtuber from Almería, in a coffee shop. He was buying a coffee and pastry for some poor soul who obviously did not have the means to pay for it himself. He did it selflessly without drawing attention to himself. I now feel obliged to do a good turn myself. And so should you.

Lisa is taking a well- deserved day off today, so I set out early in the morning and played Camino hash: trying to find the path out of town. It is a little more difficult in the darkness of the early morning and there were not many peregrinos out that early. I figure Google-mapping is cheating, worthy of a serious offense if this were the HHH hash. Asking a local is a minor infraction at worst. I made my way out of town and just prior to leaving Leon’s city limits, I came across a small stand set up for serving hot coffee, bananas and other refreshments to pilgrims. All for the price of a donation. I had a coffee and took a banana and a delicious bar of dark chocolate. “Is it always this cold at this time of year?” I asked man running the stand. “No,” he replied, “it is usually colder!”

As I left the stand, it got colder, mainly because of a biting wind which grew stronger with every step away from Leon. I entered Virgen del Camino and found the alternative route I planned to take. The normal Camino runs alongside a major highway; the alternative goes through the countryside, first going south, then west and finally north, transecting the avoided highway and into Hospital del Orbigo where my hotel was.

The last hour always seems the longest, whether you target a four hour day or, like today, an 8 hour day. And then the last 1.5 km seems interminable! But before you can say “Hotel Don Suero de los Quiñones” you are there, checked in, showered and sipping a beer or a vino tinto. I was really looking forward to a gin and tonic, but it is too dang windy!

Judging from the menus dangling in front of a few establishments, sopa de trucha (trout soup) seems to be a local specialty. I was hoping to be sipping a piping hot sopa de trucha, but it is not served until 7 pm. Right now it is 6:15. It is only going to taste better!

A note on my feet: the swelling has subsided in my right foot, ankle and lower shin. Still tender in a few spots. My left ankle still gets sore as the day wears on; but I have some damaged tendons in my arch (from wear and tear over the years) which cannot be repaired out here. I have rubbed Voltaren on both feet every morning and most evenings for the last 3 days and have been wearing compression stockings. I also rub Aquafor on the soles of my feet and between my toes. As mentioned above, the stockings change the dynamic of my foot rubbing my shoe and both feet have hotspots. Tomorrow I will change to Aquafor, wool socks and sandals. I have a short day tomorrow: about 3 hours.

Okay, time for another vino tinto and my soup should be ready soon!

Leon is the last of the big cities before Santiago de Compostela. It was a nice walk from Mansilla de las Mulas. There is an alternate route that takes you on an ancient Roman road, which I kind of regretted not doing, until meeting the folks who had and their description of a long and desolate trail with no stops along the way and wobbly footing.

On the approach to Leon, I picked a thistle as a souvenir. I have seen them growing along the Camino since St Jean. It reminded me of Scotland, which reminded me of my good friend Doug Mowat. Doug entered his Santiago ahead of the rest of us, and I expect he will be there cheering us on as we reach that longed for destination. I remember talking about the things we would do in retirement. I am not sure if the Camino came up but I suspect Doug would have chosen the cycling route. Doug, today was for you!

Leon is a beautiful city and seems more compact than Burgos and more elegant than Logroño, but just as lively as Pamplona. Lisa and I visited the Cathedral which is a masterpiece. Surprisingly, when it was built, the population of the pueblo was about 5000 souls. Later we visited the museum at the Casa Botines, designed by Antoni Gaudí, the Catalan architect. Jack, you should take Shannon to visit this museum – it would amaze her I am sure. His masterpiece is the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, but this museum describes his exploration of natural shapes to guide his designs.

Lisa and I got away from our lodging on another chilly morning well before the sun came up and, as with many mornings, we followed Venus. As the sun arose at our backs, the surroundings became clearer and we walked along a mostly flat path lined with sycamore trees through fields either already harvested or thick with maize. At this time of year, the farmers cut off the water and let the corn dry in the sun until the decision is made to harvest. This is all for animal feed.

Our hostel sent us a cab and tomorrow will return us to the same place so we can resume the Camino without missing a step. Tomorrow we head to Leon.

Lisa and I set off from Terradillos about 7:15 and got to Sahagun about 3 hours later. It was our coldest morning yet, at 37 deg F. In Sahagun, you can get a half-way certificate. Some may think that a half-way certificate is not very important, but it does demonstrate that you have walked nearly 400 kilometers. On the other hand, you can walk 100 km from Sarria to Santiago and get a certificate, or compostela, after walking only 100 km. Of course, the Camino is not about kilometers or days or sellos (stamps) or pace. What IS the Camino about? There are people who have walked it 5 times, and 10 times, and more. But I doubt they could tell you what it is about. All I can tell you at the half-way point is that it is about you.

The Camino is full of interesting characters. Today I met and walked for a while with Frank from Almería. Frank, or more properly, Francisco, is a police inspector who will be retiring at the end of this year. He is originally from Asturias and endorsed our plan to travel eastward along the northern coast of Spain after the Camino and encouraged me to try the fabada asturiana.

Lisa and I checked into our alberge, a new, modern and clean hostel built for the pilgrim trail. After unloading our gear, we decided to go into town for a beer and a bite to eat. on the way, we bumped into Frank, who was putting away one of two drones he Carrie’s with him. He had just finished doing an aerial video of Bercianos. He has a YouTube channel and has been recording his journey since St Jean. Check it out at: Francisco BL para Almería.

So how does it feel to be at the halfway point, you ask? I look back at all the experiences so far. Every single day has been wonderful. I remember that first morning, leaving St Jean Pied de Port and how amazingly good that cup of coffee in Orisson was. I remember the fourth or fifth day when I began to feel like a pilgrim and not a lost tourist. And soon after that when the familiar faces became family. And my diversions from the trail and how happy I was to get back on the Camino. Hundreds of little incidents of people and places come to mind. I will never be a virgin peregrino again.

So actually, I feel a bit sad.

I had to grab a taxi from Hornillos to Carrión de los Condes to catch up with Lisa and make up for the days I fell behind in Burgos and Logroño. I arrived in the morning and checked into the Hospedaria del Convento de Santa Clara.

Let me go back in time for a moment. In September 2021, Erin and Don Byrne joined Paula and I on a trip to Italy. While visiting St Peter’s Basilica we learned the Pope was about to celebrate mass. We had to stand behind a security barricade. It we could see some of the lucky folks invited to participate, including a group of Augustine nuns. Later, outside, we bumped into the nuns and asked how they had been so lucky to be part of the Mass. Lucky, they said. They were admiring the cathedral like we were, but they were escorted in as guests of the Vatican. Truly an experience they would remember for the rest of their lives. We also learned that they operated a hostel for pilgrims in Carrion de los Condes on the Camino. We took note of their contact details.

Last week I emailed Don to get the address and I booked a place at what I thought was the Augustine-operated hostel. Only later did I realize that I had booked the hostel run by the Clarines, a cloistered group of nuns who have limited contact with the outside world! A certain Ignacio methodically and laboriously checked me into my room. When I showed him a picture we took of the nuns in Rome, he gave me a cockeyed look. “Those are Augustine’s!” So I did not get a chance to say hello to our friends. Another reason to return!

On the way into Carrión there was a sign saying that there would be a guitar concert that night. I knew that a well-known luthier named Federico Sheppard had a guitar workshop in Carrión and it turned out to be in a room attached to a 12th century church which Federico had leased from the local Bishop and is in the midst of renovating. He builds guitars and has talented young guitarists come and perform there. We heard Sondye, a Norwegian guitarist, play. Federico then invited us for a glass of wine and dinner at the La Corte restaurant. Federico is a bit of a Renaissance man with many tales and a definite opinion on all matters. (You can get a feel by reading an interview with him at https://www.guitarsalon.com/luthier/federico-sheppard).

Today, Lisa and I set out for Terradillos hiking through the wide open meseta. We listened to her morning anthem, Carri Underwood’s “How Great Thou Art”. Villages are few in these stages but we did find a place to stop and have a cafe con leche and rest our legs. Terradillos is a small town so we hung out at the alberge the rest of the day.

Tomorrow, on Day 18 of the Camino, Lisa and I will reach the half-way point, in Sahagun.

It was good to be on the bus going in the right direction. It was a nice refresher of the towns I had walked through not long ago: Najera, Santo Domingo, Belorado, Atapuerca and finally Burgos. They tend to blur together after a few days. I had a cup of coffee and a toasted ham and egg sandwich at a familiar coffee shop, then headed towards the Cathedral, turned left at the river and was on the road again!

The path leading out of Burgos was much more pleasant than the road coming in. I followed a patch along a park which was built alongside the river. After a while, I turned away from the river and found myself walking in the mostly treeless meseta, but the road was good and fairly flat. It seemed like a lot fewer pilgrims were on the trail. I have heard some people skip this middle portion, either due to time constraints or because it is too “boring”.

I had sardines for lunch in a local bar in Rabe de la Calzada. Another guy came in, Gary from North Dakota (or was it South?), went up to the bar and just said “Beer”. The lady started pouring and he shook his head. “Bigger!”, said Gary, motioning with his hand. She found the biggest glass in the bar and filled it with beer. Gary plopped down and started to drink. He had been walking from some town 8 miles before Burgos. He looked at me and said, “I’m tired!” He looked it. “I’ve never walked more than 18 holes of golf before in my life!” Which proves they play golf in North Dakota. Or South.

On the way out of Rabe, I saw a bench in a yard next to a small ancient chapel. I decided to go and rest my feet, by lying down and kicking my leg up on the backrest. As I lay there, I saw an inscription above the doorway which read:

Templo de la Verdad es lo que mires; no desoigas la voz con que advierte que todo es ilusión menos el muerte.

Well that sent my mind off on a Camino of its own. I pondered the illusion we live in and how attached we get to it as I watched the leaves in the tree shading me as they slowly danced in the breeze.

Eventually I got on my way to Hornillos, staying at the place run by the brother of the woman who married Emilio Estevez’ son. Hornillos is a little place even in a land of little places. But I was about to discover that it’s got life!

This is a picture of the peregrinos who went to mass at the little church in Hornillos. After mass, the priest invited all the peregrinos, which was most everyone up to the altar and handed out the Pilgrim’s Blessing to everyone in all their native languages. We had people from USA, Spain, Italy, France, Panama, Brazil, and Korea. After reading the prayers, we all sang church songs. We Americans sang Amazing Grace. It was interesting to hear versions of some familiar songs on a different language.

After mass I went up the street to a restaurant called the Origen, run by a guy named Omar from Senegal, and had dinner with John from Florida and Bjarne from Greenland. The singing for the evening was not over, as you can see from this piece from La Tosca. Camino surprises never end!

Sorry, could not get the photo and video to upload. Will work on these technical difficulties later!

I mentioned in an earlier post that good fortune often comes my way on my travels. I should have suspected something was amiss this morning when I boarded my bus to Logroño and a minute later another bus coming into the station crashed into my bus, breaking the gull wing mirror and sending cracks propagating though the windscreen. But not so bad that we did not make the trip. Then on arrival in Logroño I realized I had fallen for the “hotel looks like it is in the center of town but is actually two miles away“ trick again. After a complicated process of front desk discussions, phone calls, website visits and chatbot messaging, I cancelled it for a hotel that actually was in town.

Going back to Logroño was like a trip back in time. I went through many of the towns I trekked through on the Camino and saw many pilgrims on the trail. It was like watching my hike in reverse. By the way, you need a mask to ride the bus in Spain. Luckily, I had one. But the poor old fellow in front of me did not and the driver harassed him but eventually gave him one to wear.

The reason I came back to Logroño was to go to a bullfight, particularly the one today which featured Roca Rey, a bullfighter from Peru. And as luck would have it (my luck turned for the good again), I sat next to a couple, of which the woman was from Peru and the man was from Barcelona. We had a great chat this afternoon. There was also a fellow who was oenologist from Bodega Beronia with a friend who is an ex-rugby player. I have already planned a trip to Logrono to visit the bodega while attending the Rugby World Cup next year!

The bullfight was about as good as it gets. Morante de la Puebla struggled with the first bull, which lacked all instinct, and mercifully, but poorly, put it away. Diego Urdiales had a good bull and fought well, but the kill was long and messy. Then came Roca Rey who fights in the extravagant style that I remember of Espartaco many decades ago, though Roca is not quite so daring. He had a good fight but could not place the sword. Morante was up again, but upon a few charges it was evident the bull was cojo, or weak-kneed, so he kept stumbling. After hoots from the crowd, the President allowed a substitute bull. Too bad, because the crippled bull had a lot of fight in him. The replacement bull was an outstanding animal and Morante knew it. He fought him very well and the kill was good. He got an ear.

Diego Urdiales was up for his second bull and put on a very good show. The kill was good. He got two ears, but deserved only one and a half. However, he is a Rioja local and so has the home field advantage. Then it was up to Roca Rey to justify his position as the top billed fighter of the day. The fight made the day. It was a great bull, maybe a bit to heavy, the picadors professional, banderilleros efficient, and Roca Rey dominated the bull. The kill was clean. The bull did not give up his life quickly. Roca Rey was awarded two ears.

The grape harvest fiesta de San Mateo was in full swing and I would have loved to party the night away. However, I got my bullfight fix and am anxious now to get back on the Camino. I love the early morning departures and sunrises, followed by breakfast on the trail and walking and encounters while walking, and the arrival to a new town. It is all good.