Philippe left on time about four a.m. and text later in the day all was ok.
We left at six and the girls found a bar open but full of men, near the famous aqueduct.
They soon came out again and made sure we were coming in for coffee too! After breakfast we took a number of photos of the aqueduct arches and then hit the road out. There seemed two ways to go. It was a hard but nice walk passing a Roman reservoir and dam.
Here the ranger told us there was a tunnel that you could stand up in that ran from here to Mérida also dating from Roman times. We found the next albergue was a small villa at the edge of the village of Aliucen.
It had a kitchen but the local shop closed before you could possibly walk here. We took our bunks, the girls in one room and us in another. Later a load of cyclists arrived and the girls panicked and were going to share with us rather than have to share with them.
But all was resolved when the cyclists decided to sleep on the floor in the lounge so we were all left in peace. We found we could eat at the hostel in the village and there we found the French couple Jacques and Bernadette and we had a jolly meal outside in the yard of the old house, shared with a large dog.
31 /05/04
Monday
Map 12
Photos --77---00989
To
Alcuescar
Ulli joined us in the morning as we set off at dawn.
It was a good walk although we had to walk through a herd of black bulls. My feet were good today and I walked well but there was little shade till we came to a stone cross with a yellow arrow painted on the base. Here we sat in the shade and I cut a staff for Brigitte from the eucalyptus trees growing there, as she had so admired the one I cut for Yvonne.
We arrived at the monastery albergue and booked in at half past one. We were each given a cell! The bed was filthy and no way was I was going to use the mattress. Because the floor was filthy I put the mattress against the wall and that night slept (no rested) on the chipboard that covered the spring.
When the toilet didn’t flush and I complained to a monk, I was informed, by the monk in charge,
“The natural thing is to fill a bucket from the bath!”
It had obviously been that way for sometime! Feeling that to eat there would be a health hazard, Reinhard, Yvonne, Brigitte and I went to eat in a restaurant in town, and had fun trying to pasodoble without music in the empty ballroom. On our return we were told we had been ostracised at the Mass for not being present.
Now came the time for the procession as it was a fiesta. As they carried the statue of Mary round the grounds, we were allowed to join in carrying candles. It was something I had not done before and I think we were all rather swept up in the splendour of it and of course at the end was the usual Spanish firework display.
The monastery was really a lunatic asylum with the monks doing their best to look after the poor souls. As far as I can see monks have little idea how the rest of the world lives in this day and age. The albergue they run could make money if it was good and clean but what peregrino would leave much of a donation for the squalor that we received? Maybe it was to shock you into feeling sorry for them? Sorry I don’t know the answer to that.
01/06/04
Tuesday
Map 13-14
Photos --989---996
To
Valdesalor
We left early, Yvonne, Brigitte, Ulli, Reinhard and myself, there was nowhere for coffee. Then my hay fever returned with a vengeance, it was like having the flue and I dropped right back.
I stopped in Aldea del Cano for a coffee and to my surprise found the others there. I left my bag with them while I went to a pharmacy and got some pills and a mask then we carried on. Quite soon I felt much better but still found myself at the back. It was very hot and on meeting Jacques and Bernadette, I stopped in Valdesalor and slept in the ‘Ayuntamiento’ town hall on the floor.
The others had gone on as Reinhard was to leave from Caceres, I believe, the following day.
02/06/04
Wednesday
Map 14-15
Photos --996---001007
To
Casar de CaceresIt was about eleven and a half kms to Cáceres and about the same to Casar de Cáceres.
I left at six thirty, got to the first Cáceres at ten o’clock had a coffee in the square and realised there in front of me was the old walled city. I decided to spend a while looking round hoping I could complete the rest of the day’s journey afterwards.
It was a fascinating city; fully restored and quite beautiful with great stone buildings and narrow streets.
I met an American couple and after telling my story of how I had become a peregrino we took photos on their camera by the church that they thought would open at eleven o’clock. I set off to look round the town. So many lovely buildings and churches and a Parador where the Americans had stopped I think.
I returned to the square in front of the church that they had wanted to see, and it was open. I went in and found it very dark after the bright sunlight. There was an antechamber that had lights in and two people by the door, so I asked if I could look in. The lady said yes then showed me the box to put in half an Euro and explained it was the church museum. I paid and she asked if I would like her to accompany me and explain the things I was to see. I, charmed by her attention, agreed and she showed me old papers signed by the Pope. She explained how silver poles were fitted with different heads when carried at processions and how some parts of the enormous silver and gold pieces that were carried, were built up of pieces fabricated at different periods pointing out the silversmith’s different styles.
We returned to the main church and she said if I put a Euro in the box to put the lights on, she would also show me round the church.
Well after some minutes and feeding the d..... lights I left the church and its hungry light meter and crossed to the town hall and had my credencial stamped (one of the few times it was stamped) at a place where I had not slept. I looked at the time and realised I must hurry or I would not get to the next town. On leaving I found the road was under a major alteration putting in a new roundabout.
I took a road, then, as there was no arrows, I returned and asked a worker which way. He pointed back the way I had come from town saying take a right at the top of a hill. This seemed crazy, it couldn’t be right but I took the road but asked again at the next group of workers and was told I had been on the right road in the first place. I was furious. I could have run out of water in some remote place through that idiot’s prank. He had disappeared as I returned having spent at least half an hour there.
Now it was really hot, high thirties and a lot of new tarmac road my feet were complaining. I found an arrow and got on a mud track at last and wandered for some miles in the heat. I saw at last a stream and filled my water bottle and my bowl and carried it about a kilometre to a new motorway bridge and sheltered in the shade. Putting my feet in the bowl of water I sweated and worried that I would run out of water before arriving. I couldn’t risk drinking the stream water unless it became a dire necessity. Having eaten a loaf of bread and a tin of tuna and a banana I set off, still not sure I had the right track as the road works had wiped away all arrows. I asked a truck driver whose truck had just covered me in dust and he pointed to a track off to the left and I was on my way again. It was not as far as I thought to the next village, it was hidden behind a low hill. Here I found Jacques and Bernadette, Nicholas the South African and Dutch Yvonne. I washed and rested then Yvonne and Brigitte arrived late, saying they too had rested under the bridge. They’d stopped at Cáceres and seen Reinhard off as he was going back to Germany. Now Casar de Cáceres was to be the last stop for Yvonne, she too had to go home but was hoping to have a day on the beach on the way. We had a nice meal over the road for five Euro including wine and hake (‘merluza.’) By the time we went to bed we realised that the church bells chimed all the quarters and there was another set that rang ten minutes out of synch. Both sets sounded as if they were in the very albergue, so there was not to be much sleep on this night.
03/06/04
Thursday
Map 15-16
Photos --1007---1010
44kilometers to Canaveral 
With Yvonne and Reinhard gone it left Jacques and Bernadette, Nicholas, Brigitte and me. We left at six am hoping to get as much done as possible before it got too hot. Daylight came as we walked and I took a photo. The sun rose to a clear sky and today it was baking hot by ten.
Brigitte and I were on our own when we arrived at the reservoir (‘embalsa’)
and there was no albergue here as we had been told. last night at the albergue. The guide book had said there would be.
On joining the main road we had to cross two high bridges. Now the brave Brigitte, who had led me through the herds of bulls panicked at the sight, she is terrified of heights and these bridges even shake under foot as the heavy traffic roars across them. Brigitte would not walk on the pavement as she could see over the flimsy handrail. She insisted on standing a meter from the curb in the roadway. I tried to hold her near the curb and said,
“Wait for a break in the traffic.”
We stood there a moment as a few heavy lorries thundered by, missing her by inches but she would not come up on the pavement. There appeared to be a small brake the traffic and as the last truck went by, I let her go and loaded as she was with her back pack, she ran as fast as she could. There was no way I could keep up, as I tore along the pavement hoping to grab her when the next truck came on the bridge. We had almost made it when one appeared she slowed and I grabbed her and pulled her to the curb and as soon as it had passed we ran again and gained hard ground. She had done it. Poor Brigitte was shaking as we proceeded up the small hill only to have to repeat it once again at the next bridge. We were a very exhausted couple as we arrived at the railway station then climbed the hill opposite. The temperature through all this was about forty degrees, and there was no breeze. A yellow arrow on the rail at the other side of the road pointed up the mountain and we saw a little shade under a rather prickly bush and here we sat to eat our lunch. We must get on, I worried as we sat and sweated it out, forty-four kms on a cool day is normally our absolute maximum. We joined the track and it climbed steeply up the mountain. My pack felt like lead and I could not get my breath and we kept pouring water down our throats as the sun glared off the white clay track. At this rate we would soon run out of water too. It was hopeless we must stop and rest till the sun loses some of its power, but where? We looked at a couple of possibilities but the shade was far to small, only over the other side of the barbed wire fence was there any stunted trees with shade big enough. Then that was what we would have to do, we decided. On finding a possible tree, we dumped our sacks in a bush and helped each other through the barbed wire. I took my cape with me and we spread it in the shade to lay on. Taking note of the number of cattle droppings about, now I hoped no black fighting bulls would disturb us. The tree was on a slope and no matter what we tried; we both would slide uncomfortably off the slippery cape. And then have to wriggle back into the shade.
Three o’clock and we were both awake having only dozed for a few moments. It was still baking hot.
“It should cool in an hour if we leave now, we should only suffer for that hour then we will be ok.” I said hopefully, wiping the sweat from my face. We set off and God that mountain seemed to go on and on then only to level out with not a tree in sight.
“Christ this is going to be hard.”
And it was! The temperature never dropped a degree and at one point we tried to string my cape over a shrub to get shade while we drank a little water. The shade that it created went down the bloody bank and you could not get under it. We had wasted a little time but knew somehow we must go on.
On our last legs we came to a rock with two painted arrows and some letters. I, in my confused mind, wanted to take the one that pointed straight ahead not left and down the steep bank. After a moment Brigitte said she thought we should take the other and referred to her route book. We turned left and hoped for the best. The path fell steeply down into the valley and our feet suffered for this and burned like hell. Now along the valley floor a little way, then over a small bridge. Now it climbed steeply up the other side till we came to a road that ran just as steep and with blistering hot asphalt this led us up to the village. On entering we found a fountain and gasping we quenched our thirst. We asked and were told, to find the only hostel we would have to go back a little, and up the main road, then walk another kilometre, up the hill! We struggled back down then turned left up the hill until we rounded the corner at the top. We had almost given up hope when we saw the hostel sign. It was late in the afternoon as we staggered into a crowded bar
“No rooms left but wait, I’ll see if we can find you something” said the old man behind the bar.
We fell into a couple of chairs and had a drink and waited. The old man came out again and said to me
“Follow me.”
He took me to the adjoining building and opened the door that led into an enormous room, a disused Super Market. He showed me the loo and a shower, there in the back of the shower room stood a pile of folding beds and mattresses even better I thought.
‘We will have beds after all, such luxury’.
His wife was given the task of setting them up and I returned to the bar. We finished our drinks and staggered back to wash and shower. This turned out to be the slowest dribble of water ever to leave a tap, and it was cold but we managed to cool and get rid of the day’s sweat. Then fell asleep for an hour before dinner.
04/06/04
Friday
Map 16-17
Photos --1010---1017
Past Grimaldo on to Galisteo
We awoke at five a.m. but couldn’t get our washing till six. We then left with Jacques and Bernadette and had a very hard climb up to the ‘Puerto de los Castaños.’ We had some trouble finding the track at one point and I broke my long staff. I have very little notes on this day but I think it was the day Brigitte and I walked together most of the time. It was Cork trees and dry-scrub most of the way and very hot.
Then there were even fewer trees on the later part.
Bridgette taking the lead and I very close behind, went through a herd of fierce looking black bulls and made a dash for the fence, and then got worried
by the farm dog. In our panic to get as far away from the dog as possible we missed the arrows and took a track that went miles out of our way. We realised we were wrong, but thought for a while we were on the track the cyclists normally took.
On finding a main road we knew we were lost but travelled along it and met a crazy young Englishman walking to Portugal to see a football match - and we thought we were daft!
We came to a garage with a café, (there were none on the correct route). Here we drank two Cokes and a bottle of water each and were told we should take the next left and we’d come to the arrows in about three kilometres, here we could rejoin the track. We refilled our water bottles and a little later, on very tender feet we found the arrows having put ten kilometres extra on a thirty-km day. We came off the tarmac and set off across the scrub.
We later stopped to cool our feet in the water of an irrigation channel. I was sitting in the shade of a tree with my feet in my fold up canvas bowl when Mark and Nicholas also arrived and I gave Mark a small bottle of water as they had little left.
Brigitte found a four leaf clover in the grass verge and kindly gave it to me.
Later, to my horror, on walking another kilometre further I realised when I’d stood up I had left it behind. When I did pluck up enough courage to tell her I had lost it, I got the feeling she would never forgive me! (I found many such leaves later in Galicia and was able to send her one by post and I now hope I am forgiven)
Arriving at the outskirts of the tiny ancient walled city of Galisteo we asked the way and found as usual we had to climb the hill and the hostel was on the far side. By the time I got to the top and had collapsed into a bus shelter, I’d had enough. We were both exhausted, a sign over the road said five hundred meters to the hostel where Jacques had booked us a room by phone. I really didn’t think I could make it. Brigitte badgered me to get up and try. In the end I gave in and followed her over the top and round the city wall and down the other side at least a kilometre more. We staggered into the bar shattered, the young woman behind the bar said
“Oh there’s been a mix up. As you were late I’ve let your room!” She must have noted my disbelief for she added “Maybe I can do something, follow me.”
Swearing under my breath I followed her down the street to the next doorway and entered
“That was to be your room but you can have this one,” she said pointing through a doorway into a small lounge room.
“But you will have to sleep on the floor. I have a mattress and the shower is down the hall.”
Well it was a clean and nice room with antique furniture, so we agreed. Then as she left she added
“You may have to share with two or three more!”
Oh well so be it, we were too tired to argue. Then as I showered and came back into the room Nicholas and Mark arrived and a cyclist accompanied by the Dueña ‘Mari Cruz.’
“There is a small single room one of you could use.” She said.
Seeing that two were our ‘Peregrino’ friends we could not refuse.
Brigitte of course decided to move out to the single room.
Feeling refreshed after a shower and a short rest I went to the bar for a cognac to restore me and soothe my poor feet. Both my boots had been puffing red dust through a slit in the soles all day. They were breaking up and not helping my feet at all.
Photo of the lovely Maria she kindly sent to me after my return home.
I needed new boots. I asked Mari Cruz if there was a shop in town that might sell boots. She said she would give me directions but had little hope of me getting real walking boots in this little town. She carried on serving and a chap came into the bar with a guitar and started playing and singing. Mari Cruz joined us as he played and the cognac I was drinking kicked in and I sang the song Maritime for them and they were thrilled to bits and clapped in appreciation. Mari Cruz then said
“There is no hope of you getting boots here but if you come with me to the next city ‘Coría’ we could get some there.”
She was to leave at any moment to take her sister to hospital she explained, to see if the plaster could be removed from her sisters broken leg. I went back in and put on my old boots and hurried out again having forgotten to
pick up my camera. She came out looking very attractive in a new flimsy top. Wow! I thought as I got into the back of her car. We hve to pick up the others, she said, in the tiny ancient walled city. We drove down the narrow streets and stopped in the middle of the street for them to get in. We had a job to get the poor girl with her plastered leg into the front seat. The brother sat next to me, I sat in the middle and the old mum on the other side and away we went.
Arriving in ‘Coría’ we found the hospital and got the poor girl out and the family went in with her. Mari Cruz said for me to get back in, as she would park the car somewhere and help me find a shop to get new boots. Parking was a problem but eventually we found a spot some distance away. She knew of three possibilities. The first turned out to be ladies shoes the second had one pair but Mari Cruz said she thought they were more of a fashion boot and didn’t think they would last.
“We should try elsewhere,” she said.
Saying we would come back if unable to get better ones we left the shop. The third shop had only one pair and believe it or not they were in my small size. I tried them on and thought them very comfortable. I decided they were as good as I would get anywhere. Mari Cruz said they were a well-known brand, a good Spanish make and I paid up. The owner of the shop on hearing I was a peregrino, collected a new pair of socks from the rack and presented them to me and wished me luck on the rest of the Camino!
Maria if you ever read this God Bless you! those were the best boots I ever had and they compleated two Caminos after finishing the via del Plata and more.
I wrote this song for her as a thankyou for her kind help to buy those boots on the silver camino
Wearing my new boots and carrying my old ones in the box we came out and Mari Cruz said we had time to wander round the old town. It was a wonderful place and we looked in one of the many churches and walked down the lovely old streets. We strolled into a quaint little square complete with old town hall then down more narrow streets until we came to a square next to the cathedral (unfortunately closed.). We leant on the old stone wall and looked out over the surrounding countryside. From this high vantage-point we could see a wide river meandering through the valley with trees on either side.
“This is the only city I know that has a river with no bridge, and a bridge with no river” Mari Cruz commented.
I looked at her then back again puzzled and noted there was no bridge over the river. Then I looked to the right and closer to the city and I saw the bridge, a beautiful Roman bridge of four or more arches but with no water under them. The narrow road crossed it then turned left parallel with the river, but definitely never crossed the river. The river sometime many years ago must have changed course and left the bridge high and dry and now the old riverbed was farmed and growing maize. The conversation became more personal and Mari Cruz told me she was forty-eight and a widow, her husband having died tragically, two years before. She told me how she had defied tradition and refused to wear black widows weeds, how she had struggled to open the new bar and restaurant with her son when all the ladies of the village thought she should sit dressed in black in the corner and weep. She was a far too liberated a young woman for that, and she explained to me that at last the village had excepted that this was her way of dealing with her grief! She felt her husband would have wanted her to be happy and was sure she was doing the right thing. I agreed with her, and I said she had done well.
“You deserve all the luck that comes your way.”
We changed the subject and discussed the architecture of the cathedral that had been probably been Roman and altered many times throughout history using many different styles. Then we started back and as we came into the more modern part of town I invited her to have a coffee and we stopped at a café and sat in the street while I had a beer. She turned the subject round to me and I explained how I had been married for forty years and told her about my children and grand children and how I came to be in Spain. She looked up and said
“Thank you.”
I was a bit slow and answered
“Why?”
“For telling me now,” she said softly.
It had seemed as if I had always known this young woman, we had got on so well.
The church clock struck and she suddenly looked at her watch.
“Oh! We must go, I’d forgotten the others, come on.” she said jumping up and hurrying away. I dashed in and paid and ran after her. She was back to her normal smiling self and laughingly said,
“Where did we leave the car?”
I didn’t remember, the modern streets all looked the same to me and her vehicle was white like every other one we now saw in the street. We went along the lines of cars with her pressing the button of the immobilise key, to see if one gave a response. On about the forth try, some lights flashed and we had found it. She promptly took the wrong turning and had to go round the block and then down the street towards the hospital where we could see her mother was waiting impatiently,
“Where you been.” she grumbled.
“Oh Michael had difficulty to get boots to fit, it took a long time” Mari Cruz fibbed.
Mum seemed to accept that as being a good enough excuse, and we loaded the poor sister back in the car complete with plaster as the Hospital had said it would have to stay on another week.
Back at the Restaurant we found her son had everything under control but he gave his mother a few words about being so long with the foreigner. She told him it wasn’t my fault or hers but the hospitals. Sitting down with the rest of the crew they told me they had just eaten the best meal they had had on the walk. I looked at the menu and thought I should eat from the menu card, as Mari Cruz would take nothing for her help. I ordered the suckling pig she recommended while she herself, being a vegetarian had a Gazpacho. That meal was like something out of a Paris four star hotel. Mari Cruz’s son is a chef with talent far exceeding the needs of a small country town hostel.
I’d been so tired and my feet so painful, I couldn’t understand what had driven me to take another step. How was it, after arriving this tired, I took a shower and not even stopping to rest! How could I ever have gained enough strength to, go out again, buy my boots and walk the city of ‘Coría’ and return eat and collapse into my sleeping bag, rolled out on a hard floor, and then! The following morning leave at six, in the dark, and walk thirty or more kilometres! I don’t know the answer to that, but I had!
05/06/04
Saturday
Map 17-18
Photos --1017---1020
To the
Arco de CaparraWe left before dawn carrying 3.5 Lt. of water and my old boots about another kilo. Dawn broke bringing a very hot day. In the first village (too early for coffee, I think it might have been called Tres Cruzas)
I dumped my old boots in a waist bin and a lt. of water on a garden. My bag felt like lead and as my new boots felt fairly good, I now decided I would have to break them in without the help of another pair of comfortable boots.
The map was not detailed enough and distances wrong. It was really hard and very little shade. Water was the problem and at one stage we asked for water at a farm only to be told,
“You are walking in the midday heat, obviously for recreation not as a pilgrimage.”
So the kind lady gave us no water!
Bridgette and I were down to our last small bottle! We were walking through a wide strip of land between two parallel stone walls. This ancient strip was supposed to be used to herd animals along, so transporting them between towns. It seemed to go on forever, with us just wetting our lips as little as we could for the fear of using the last drop. We were tiring fast through lack of water, we also had difficulty making decisions, and we had to keep stopping to rest. Mark the English lad caught up and as he passed he said we could have a small water bottle he would not use. Never has a small bottle of water been more welcome! Mark had of course returned the water I had given yesterday at a very opportune moment. We at last came to the end of the parallel walls and struggled on until at last we came to ‘Arco de Caparra,’ the Roman arch.
There in its shade were the others including Jacques and Bernadette. The night before I had translated to the others Jacques plan, and then got Mari Cruz to phone ahead and we had arranged a hostel to pick us up, and we thought return us in the morning. The only hitch being that we could see, was we’d said four o’clock, it was now about two.
Two more South Africans I had not met joined us saying there was a tourist office over the hill and bus loads of people to see the Roman ruins, but they had emptied the drink vending machine of drinks. We sipped our water bottles until four and a bakers van arrived, it was to be our transport. There were ten or more of us all with rucksacks. We piled the rucksacks in one end then started to fit ourselves round them on the flour on the floor. We somehow all got in, and the van, backed back and turned round. We had to leave the door open as it was hot as a bread oven in the back! Poor aching feet were sat on or squashed, as we rattled down the track then turned onto a highway. It must have been almost half an hour later that we piled out into a roadside bar and hostel. Hot sweaty and tired I called for a ‘Vino de Verano’ (I needed it), only to find as I now went to get a room, the others had disappeared. They had dashed in and had already been issued with rooms. Amazing how improved their Spanish was when it meant getting a good bed. Bugger! I carried my bag up and down the stairs twice trying to find a spare bed. Back in the bar the guy issued me with a large double room with bath, oh well, I had come off better than them in the end.
06/06/04
Sunday
Map 18-19
Photos --1020---1027
Bańos de Montemayor
Up at five and we all met up outside and set off at six. No transport to the ‘Arco de Caparra’ so we had decided to walk two kilometres on the main road and hopefully join the track at a point where it was supposed to cross, wherever that was. We had no map to really tell us, only verbal information from the barman. Daylight came as we turned left then right on to the ‘Way.’ We came to a field and could see an arrow over the other side. We crossed to it then we each had conflicting descriptions as to where we should find the next one. As there was no obvious track, we split up and spread out. We searched with no avail until I set out on my own, far over to the right. I came to an overgrown stone gateway in the corner of a field. I went through heading back towards the first field, the way we had come, but luckily I turned round and looked back, and on the gateway wall was a faded yellow arrow. I blew my whistle and shouted and all found their way over to me. We now discussed which way the arrow was supposed to be pointing. I thought it pointed to the centre of the adjoining field, So I set off through long grass in that direction and found a footpath. I called to the others and we crossed the field, found another marker after a while on a derelict building, then some on trees - we were on track again. Later Brigitte and I were in front and her German guidebook gave us the directions to follow the fence. This we did, trying to keep away from the cattle with their large pointed horns. The area we were walking through had been burnt off and there was no clear pathway. We pushed on getting very black from the charred scrub.
“You have black across your face” said Brigitte laughing.
She made me stand still as she rubbed it off like a mother would a small child with a tissue, saying
“You look like one of the three musketeers.”
We came out into a cleared area and a farm track that led to a large gate. We tried to decide if we should go through or keep following the fence. We went through but came to a main road. This was not mentioned in the directions, so we started back and saw the others heading parallel with the fence but farther over. We decided to join them but found they were not on a path either. We headed back towards the fence again and found a little stream. As one was mentioned in the guidebooks we crossed it and about here I trod down a hole and stumbled, twisting my ankle. I levered myself upright with my stick as I fell forward, so saving my ankle but the stick snapped. Someone called out and pointed at a distant gatepost and there was the familiar arrow again. I stuck my broken stick in the gate as we went through and said a sad farewell to my Australian black boy staff! I now walked with only one stick thinking I would soon cut another, but it was well over a week before I found a replacement and then only a temporary one. It was many miles further on before I found a small tree to supply me with a good replacement.
Later on the group had spread out a bit as the temperature rose to the high thirties. We were walking again on the hard hot asphalt and we stopped by a wall in the shade for a moment, then drifted off separately, and continued along the road for some kilometres.
I stopped at the first restaurant with a bar and found Nicholas and Mark. We had some ‘tapas’ and a drink and set off again. The road climbed up into the mountains that we had seen ahead of us for so many miles. I was getting extremely exhausted unable to drink enough water for the amount that ran from my body in sweat. I needed shade and a rest, there was none. The lads soon left me behind. On leaving the road for a few moments the track took a shortcut across a bend in the road, a large tree sent shade across a patch of grass and the track. I staggered to it, hit the catch on my pack and as it hit the grass I fell beside it . I awoke but don’t know how long I had slept, it could have been only ten minutes or so, more maybe I didn’t know but I felt a little better. I set out again and arrived at Bańos de Montemayor. The albergue was full they said but sent me into town to find another hostel. I found the house indicated and a pair of soaking wet black panties lay in the street below the balcony. I picked them up and knocked on the door. It was answered be a pretty young woman, I introduced myself. I put out my hand to shake hers and realised I was still holding the dripping wet panties. I withdrew my hand feeling rather embarrassed and swapped the pants into my other hand, wiped my hand on my pants and tried again. Wide-eyed she opened the door further to let me in. (Mad foreigners running around with ladies undies on show!) She then took me upstairs to show me the room I could have. I found Nicholas in an adjoining one, Brigitte was around somewhere and Dutch Yvonne I saw, I returned her wet panties! She looked just a little surprised.
I showered, washed laundry and rested, then went out and found there were no shops open as it was Sunday.
I met
Jacques and Bernadette in the park and Nicholas showed up and he and I got a bocadillo and litre of milk in a bar for tomorrow’s breakfast. We had a walk round the old town and went
right up to the church at the top and here there was a funeral on with lots of people everywhere. Later on we watched the sun set below the mountain, beautifully silhouetting the church across the square in front of our digs.
07/06/04
Monday
Map 19-20
Photos --1027---1036
Fuenterroble de Salvatierra 32.7kms.
The first part was mountains and pretty I intended to stop early but the first village had a place but was no distance, after that none of them did.
In the last one I bought an horchata and a little food in a tiny shop and ate it in a dirty bus stop with Nicholas and Brigitte. The mountains had been wonderful like the Camino Francés. Now I had lost myself on the map and relied on the others to find a place. We found a big albergue but nothing worked properly.
Not sure about this one as I have no record. I can’t remember this place or the albergue. Unless yes, could be, there was one stop that I haven’t mentioned as yet that just might be here. I remember how we, Brigitte, Nicholas and I came to a village on the flat after a hot walk, it was a bit like an adobe town. We had to ask for a key in the main bar to use the albergue, there they said there was just one bed left in the Casa Rural sharing with Mark, Jacques and Bernadette and we said Brigitte should have it. Nicholas and I went to the old school that was pretty filthy and here we got grubby mattresses and slept on the floor, the shower hardly worked and the toilet seat fell off every time. There were no clotheslines and I had to hang my washing on the hedge. We shared it with two gay girl cyclists, two gay blokes and Dutch Yvonne. We found the grocers shop and eventually a baker’s shop after being told its just, ‘straight over there’. This was a funny little town, every street seemed to run at a different angle to the last, like a maze! You could get lost just by turning a corner or two, only to find yourself having gone round in a circle and back where you started. We found a small bar run by a young woman with a little girl and she seemed very pleased to be asked if we could eat there later. She asked what we would like. I eventually ordered our meal after I had searched the town to find Brigitte to ask her what she wanted to eat and report back to the bar. The dinner with Brigitte and Nicholas, was a success. We sat in a white walled patio just outside the bar under brightly coloured sunshades, eating fish and chips and drinking red wine.
08/06/04
Tuesday
Map 21
Photos --1036---1046
San Pedro de Rozados
A very hard day climbing up to the highest point on the Via. My left ankle became swollen and my boot was hurting it, so I stopped and quickly taped the boot top away and down from it, with a big piece of white first aid sticky tape. This helped considerably. Mind you on catching up with Brigitte I received the comment,
“Mike! How did your boot hurt itself?
We knew there would be an iron cr
oss at the top but there were several new wooden ones, probably representing the stages of the cross. I don’t really know if they were or not, but we kept thinking we had reached the top only to find the track climbing on up again. When at last we did get to the top, the cross couldn’t be reached as it was the other side of a fence and atop of a large rock. Just over the other side of the mountain were road works for a new motorway. We stopped and had a rest and ate our lunch. I also received a text from Reinhard wishing us well. We then went down the far side of the mountain and the terrain became hot and barren again and a fair bit of tarmac till San Pedro de Rozados.
09/06/04
Wednesday
Map 22
Photos --1046---1058
Salamanca
Twenty-seven kilometres according to the others maps, this was a very hard section especially the last part which had no shade.
I was walking with Brigitte and Nicholas and we lost the French couple, Mark and Dutch Yvonne although we had arranged meet up in the plaza Mayor. I started to lag behind about half way but managed to catch up at the high viewpoint on the track. We were all feeling the heat, as Salamanca seemed to stay far away in the distant haze.
When at last we did get within reach we found our way cut by a new motorway. No arrows to guide us, we took a chance and turned right. Luckily we found a spot to cross and entered the suburbs.
Here we found a cafe and settled the dust and found out that the others had also stopped an hour earlier.
It’s always bad walking into a big town and Salamanca is no exception but we arrived at the cathedral and went in.
Brigitte said she had to light a candle for a friend and for thanks for having arrived safely for she would go home from here.
“Why don’t you light one” she said to me.
“I don’t now how. I’ll do it if you show me.” I laughed.
She smiled and said it was easy, I was to copy her. It is a magnificent building inside and we walked round until we came to a shrine dedicated to the Virgin Mary, she being the guardian saint of the Vía del Plata.
The Virgin Mary is represented by a beautifully dressed figure as is normal in a Catholic Church. In front stood a rack of candles, some burning. Brigitte placed a coin in the slot and proceeded to light two candles and openly said a short prayer of thanks and left me to do the same. I took a small candle from the tray and lit it from one already alight as she had done, and lit two more. Silently thanking God for my safe journey and also for confirming my love for Maisie my wife and suddenly tears streamed from my eyes and ran down my cheeks. I stood there crying for a few moments, absolutely choked with emotion, I then turned and walked into the darkness behind me and wiped my eyes, quite shocked at my own reaction.
We found a rough hostel. Brigitte wanted something better and I was tired and felt I did too, so we went round the corner and found a two star hotel, the ‘Don Juan’. Brigitte booked a room for three days I took one for one night only. Had a lovely shower that worked and a coffee in the bar. I found the post office and collected my tent and repacked it and put in some more bits. We all met up in a café at seven in the magnificent Plaza Meyor.
Brigitte kindly brought us all Tinto de Veranos to celebrate her leaving, they were very expensive here.
10/06/04
Thursday
Photos --1058---1062
Salamanca
Next day I changed to the other cheaper hostel with Nicholas and re posted my stuff. The man from the hostel told me someone had been asking after us but he had been unable to give her a room at the time and was not sure which hostel she had gone too. Puzzled we did not know who it could be. I then looked round the town re visited the cathedral
and other places on my own
as Nicholas left to go to the pictures. I told Nicholas I was going out for dinner with Brigitte at eight as he left, then I bought a new T-shirt and got ready, but there had been a misunderstanding and somehow she went to the pictures with Nicholas! I waited at the hotel till nine o’clock then searched the town for her, to no avail. Later I was getting ready for bed when there was a knock. Brigitte and Nicholas stood there and she apologised profusely for not meeting me and we said goodbye and wished each other well. Nicholas and I planned to leave at six in the morning, while Brigitte would stay one more day before returning to Switzerland.
