I tried to get a good photo and went a little way out of my way to get a coffee.
Feeling good again, I backtracked and found the camino and set off through the farmland to the next village, Sobradiel. As I arrived I noticed it was clean and paved and a differ
ent type of church altogether, unfortunately closed so I was unable to see inside. As I came to the next village, Torres Berrellen, I passed some cattle sheds and a group of workers were outside and I chatted a few minutes with them. They were very friendly and told me there was a bar in the main square. Refreshed again I left the town, the countryside was very flat and heavily farmed and the track stony. My feet were very tender as I passed Alagón and I was soon deep in the countryside again and tired. 
My mobile phone now rang and I was thrilled to talk to Maisie and told her how things were going. I had said very little in my text so as not to worry her!
Maisie notes of that conversation:
He said he was sitting under a tree and had been told that they were having the most rain in 100 hundred years! (not sure if that was a joke or not, chuckle). He said his feet were not too good, and still no other peregrinos on this track and it was a hard walk. He said it was like a wilderness apart from the small villages and there were no email cafes. (There would have been in Zaragoza but he’s trying to avoid the big cities). He said the locals were strange, some helpful but mostly suspicious as they didn’t see many peregrinos and thought he was begging! Chuckle. I said I wondered why he was doing it then, he said so did he. We had a laugh anyway and he was glad I’d phoned. I think he’s a bit lonely, but there should be lots of people walking once he joins the other route in Longrono (I think that’s where the routes join up). Hopefully he’ll text in the morning to let me know where he got to. I don’t think he’ll get as far as Cabanas.
In the next village, Cabiñasas, as far as I could see there was no possibility of an albergue so I continued on hoping for a campsite. In the next little town I looked for a bar. I found a strange little one decorated like it was in Egypt, it was very dark inside and I asked the child that was there sitting on a barstool in the gloom, if I could get a drink. She ran into the backroom and called her mother who came through to serve me. I did not stop long, I felt Egypt was not where I was supposed to be!
I now went down the narrow streets looking for the camino again and a number of kids started to follow this stranger walking with two sticks. They kept back and giggled and hid when I turned to look. I found the road by the river and the statue of Don Pancho that I had seen mentioned in my guidebook. It was not as I had always imagined him but it was a good bronze casting. I turned left along the river road, a large stone bounced in front of me then several more. I was quite peeved as I had tried to be friendly to the kids that now were throwing stones at me! Then as they were ducking behind the buildings I told them I would box their ears in Spanish-well best as my Spanish would allow! I hurried on to the edge of town and they soon lost interest. I spoke to a man seeing to the irrigation trenches. He didn’t seem over friendly and I soon left, telling him I would look for an albergue in the next town.
There were shady poplar tree plantations near the river that here was wide, fast flowing and muddy looking.
These plantations and their soft looking grass were in many cases being flooded by the irrigation and it would not be good to set up then find water all round you. Two local women were walking and I caught up and asked if they knew where I might camp. They were a bit off hand about camping saying it would be better away from the track and in the trees by the river.
"No one should see you there! The guardia might fine you if they find you!"
I had heard that camping in the countryside was frowned on in Spain but this seems quite ridiculous to me. I understood that the farmers might object to camping owing to flattening crops or rubbish left that might harm animals. Well here was one camper that was going to camp till they proved he couldn't. I let the ladies go ahead again, then I headed out across the fields to the river. I went through some trees that were full of brambles and rough ground. I thought the trees in the next field might get flooded as I could see water already there in places.
But I found a rise in the barren field alongside that looked as if it never did flood and here I set up my tiny tent and laid out some old canes I found trying to keep the rucksack off the ground. Just in case!!! I fired up my little spirit stove and cooked a nice, if somewhat strange stew of chorizo with pasta. I'd put in a chicken soup with noodles too. It tasted good, was hot and satisfied my hunger eaten with the loaf of bread that I was carrying.
I got water from the river but it was quite muddy so I walked to the flooded trees and managed to bail up a little cleaner looking stuff and washed up my pots then text Maise
.
You did 27.6 on bad feet! Thought you said you would not do so much! Hope feet better soon
In the morning in the next village of Luceni I found a bakery and bought some really nice cakes and things for breakfast and ate one in the shop. Putting on my rucksack I spilled water out of my bottle but the lady was very pleasant and wiped it up and made no fuss about it. I refilled my water bottle in the square from a small fountain, not the main one as that was not drinking water.
To get to Gallur I had some trouble walking on hard roads and it was poorly signed.
I met a lady cleaning her step and she kindly got me a large bottle of water and I gave her a Koala, I told her the story of Barcelona but how she could have misunderstood beats me, if it was her that caused my later problems. Here you follow the river and climb a hill as you leave hardly touching the town. I stopped and rested a bit and drank some of the water, looking out across the valley and the water canal directly below.
I text maisie and she text back my Grandson was sick and I remembered now John and Jo were playing in the hills orchestra in a country town, Maisie was away with them to look after the Emil!
I soon came down from the high point and had a boring walk to Mavllen. I had to chuckle to myself later, you see at one time, a man in a pickup stopped and offered me a lift. Much to my surprise I heard myself say in Spanish "No thank you, I'm on a pilgrimage and said I would walk and so I will, but thank you!" You have no idea how my feet were burning at every step yet I had said that!!!!! I now remember two guardia policemen passed me in a car as I walked the canal road but at the time thought nothing of it. I came to a factory where big trucks were backing out and crossing the bridge over the canal. When they were safely out of the way. I crossed to the left of the canal. here I took the canal path while the trucks had taken the road to the left. By the time I had walked to Mavllen I was ready to stop.
I took the road into the town and asked for directions to a café from a workman, and in the café I asked for a hostel. The waitress went to the kitchen and asked the boss and when she came back I was told, rather aggressively "There is none" Puzzled because this is quite a big town and I felt there must be something, even a hotel! I left and thought I would try in another café a little further on and on the opposite side of the road. I unloaded my rucksack and rain-cape onto a chair and asked again as I ordered a coffee. I was told immediately there are none, they were all full! Maybe I sounded a bit annoyed as I said "There is a rain storm coming and I am 67 years old, surly there is something." The barman really told me off and said again there was no room in this town! I apologised and said I would then sleep out tonight by the canal! He was not softened by this announcement.
I drank my coffee, paid and left. I had been rather shocked at his reply. What was going on? I returned to the canal and crossed the bridge, I even looked at the possibility of sleeping under it but that wasn't viable, if a truck came along the canal bank I would get run over. I would keep going hoping the black clouds would go away but there was nowhere to pitch a tent by the canal anyway! At least it would be flat following the canal! I had to keep going the 2.5 kilometres to Cortes de Navarra. There same thing happened, same reply, "There is nowhere" The storm clouds were building up, now 10.2 kilometres to Ribaforada!!!!! I was getting to my limit, my poor feet, the heavy pack!! I could not believe it again, no Hotels, Hostels, Fondas, rooms, nothing! I somehow had to keep going for another 4.3 kilometres!!! I came to what I thought must be Bocal. The first thing I saw was a bridge over the canal and as I came to it the bank to my right was overgrown and treed but there was a wrought iron gateway ahead under the bridge. Looking through it I could see the canal bank, on the other side, a park of cut grass and some old buildings. The gate was locked, so I could not get through, I now retraced my steps a little way, turned to my right and climbed through the brambles and scrub under the trees and scaled the bank at the side. At the top I turned left and got onto the bridge tarmac road. A yellow arrow on the parapet pointed across the bridge. In front of me there was a big driveway entrance leading too and past a large stone gatehouse. I could see a light burning in the window, it was just getting dusk. I crossed and went in the entrance and up to the door near the lighted window and knocked. A man opened the door and I asked if there was anywhere to stay. He turned to his companion and both shook their heads "There's no where in the village" he said. "Anything-a roof over my head, a floor, I have a tent but there is a storm coming and I am getting desperate. I am sixty seven years old and have been washed out of the tent once and had to sleep outside in rain all night. I can't take it again" Well that’s what I tried to say! They shook their heads again "A roof anything" I pleaded. They spoke together in Catalan I think, as I could not understand much of what was said. The first man said "Well there is…." and a word I did not know. He moved to the door and I thought 'ok I have something' and moved back. They both came out and we walked across the driveway and across a rough lawn past some big oak trees. I could just see a building in the gloom, with a roof about a meter and a half wide. It was the an old wash house. Let me try to explain. Imagine that you dig a big oblong hole about waist deep and concrete the bottom. Now build a oblong tank up to ground height in stone but leaving a meter space on one side and on that side the top stones are smooth and laid with slope inward to beat and scrub the clothes on. On the outside of the gap you build another stone wall up to three meters high. Now put four posts on the edge of the nearest tank wall, the one with the sloping stones. Now join the poles at the top with a beam and pitch a tile roof over the passage to the outside wall. The tank is filled with water like a swimming pool and the ladies stand in the passage in the shade and wash the clothes. A few steps for them to climb out and you should have a mental picture of what was offered me as a shelter! I thanked the men a said it would be better than the tent outside when the storm broke. I was not too sure about that as the rain could flood down the steps and fill the passage and it was open to the elements on the tank side, or at least above the tank wall it was. There was no water in the washing tank as far as I could see but was littered with autumn leaves, and rubbish.
I found my torch, so was the passage!!!
The roof gave shelter to birds, and everything was covered in bird droppings and smelt of cats!! I pushed the leaves up the far end and found the floor was stone. My tent pegs would be no good! I searched around outside and found a few broken roof tiles, and now I rolled out the tent on to the passage floor and it just was wide enough. At the far end was a step up then a few steps down into another small room that I thought must have perhaps been a pump house at one time. I tied a piece of string to the rear corners of the tent, where the pegs would have normally gone. I hooked the string around two broken tiles and jammed them as best I could on the far side of the step. At the other head end, I tried jamming my new walking staff across the passage and tied the guy rope to it and the tent held up, or just about held up. The staff fell out several times and the tiles came unstuck too, but if I was careful it stayed there. I covered most of the tent with the plastic sheet I now carried on the side of my rucksack. I put my rucksack in the plastic bag and looked at the night sky. There seemed a small break in the clouds far away and as yet we had had only a few raindrops. I said a little prayer and undressed and got in the tent. The pole fell out immediately and I started again. This time it held, I was so tired and after what seemed a long while I did sleep. I awoke only once as had to water the countryside behind the building. I noticed the storm had split in two and was passing on each side of this beautiful camping spot!
Some prayers get answered I believe, but if I had known, I would have pitched the tent on the lawn outside!!!. Careful not to collapse my humble abode I got back into bed.
