05/06/07
At last I had a friend to walk with, Ernesto. He and I were taken to the village and soon were out in open country, the fields of poppies fascinated me giving unbelievable blood red splashes to the landscape.
Any artist putting that colour red to a canvas would be told it can't be that colour! It's straight from the tube, tone it down! But believe me the morning sun would hit the poppies as the clouds scudded overhead and they would become even brighter, no camera could capture the magic and there is magic on this camino.
I think it was in the little village of San Bol that you suddenly see after walking acr
oss the wind swept fields of green corn, that we found a nice café and bar. There was only one last time I came here, now there were three and they all seemed to be albergues. After a nice omelette bocadillo sitting in the weak sun in the square, we retired to the warm bar for a cognac then hit the road again.
Ernest walked behind most of the time so I had the walk to myself for a while taking the dirt path from Hontanas till coming down and meeting the road again to the ruins of San Anton, an old XIV century Convent. There is no village, as Leprosy was the common sickness of the peregrino and they were treated here.
Soon we could see Castrojeriz, the hill covered on one side red with poppies.
I had terribly bad feet last time and was so tired, while now I felt only a little tired yet I had walked 20 kilometres. We looked at an albergue, but passed it by, my friend saying he would look for a casa rural. There was an awful amount of work going on in the village and we could hardly pass along the main street. The work seemed to finish a bit and we found a local bar and sat at the bar on the stools. Ernest was going to stop here while I thought I must go on, I had a place to visit here and wanted to do the impossible and go on much further like I had done before. No one with that idea should not get in to drinking good red wine! Then the conversation got round to orujo! Now we had to try the four different types till having got the entire bar going. There had been no one here when we arrived! Now it was full of peregrinos chatting about the hardships of camino, chuckle. I must have started that with stories of El Ebro. I embraced my new companion and wished him well, drank a free orujo from the barman and got outside and set off up the street hoping I was not staggering too much. I came round a corner and here was what I wanted, A row of houses and shops with a row of pillars supporting the top floor leaving a covered walkway underneath. I strolled along the flagstones thinking of what had happened to me last time. At the end I stopped as before, outside a hardware store. This time raincoats were hanging on the pillar. Last time I had slept here on the stones in 40° heat in 2003.
On waking had been compelled to touch that round pillar with my back! I had been embarrassed to do it, even though I was alone at the time. I was now but I touched the stone and feeling its firm rough texture under my palm, I patted it and said a little "thank you" to myself.
My confidence returned and I turned and went into the shop. The same old man who had left his shop unlocked while I had lain in front on the flagstones to sleep was serving a customer, I had no idea why I had come in but seeing hat badges on a rack I stood and selected one. I'll take that one of Castrojeriz please" I said to the old man as he came to serve me.
He took the one and started to wrap it up.
"Why is the pillar outside your shop round and all the others square? I asked
"It's from another age" was his smiling reply.
I then told my story of last time I was here and he nodded with a knowing glint in those old eyes. No I don’t think he was thinking I was nuts!
I went out of the small town taking the dirt road across the flat valley floor.
There is a raised track at one place and is, I think, the original way here. I saw two men on bikes come towards me and then stop and turn round while a female dropped her bike and filmed them riding the last section before the tracks meet. She was a very pretty girl and as I too took my turn on this section she waved and filmed me as I too arrived. She called out and carried out an interview with me as the two chaps listened. I don’t think I have met a more vivacious young lady as she kept getting me to move so she could get the best angle and photos of me, my sticks, and my many hat badges. Holde was incredible and I fell for her charm immediately. Holde said like the Australian car Holden without the N she assured me, while I wrote it down to be sure. We chatted for some time swapping stories.
They were from Germany I believe, I should write these things down at the time but I didn't. I gave her my card and she promised to email me the photos. This photo is one she kindly sent to me. I waved, wished them luck and left them riding and photographing in the same place again. Now I soon came to the steep climb up on the other side of the valley. I was almost at the top and still thinking about them and when I turned my head and looked back to see where they were, I couldn't see them anywhere. Looking forward again I was amazed. I could see I had all but reached the top! I had walked with seventeen kilos up this killing climb and not even noticed I had been climbing!!! I had not stopped once! I felt a shiver. I had only patted the pillar this time but it had done the same as before, then I had walked out into the heat and across this valley and up to here without effort. I stopped at the top to take photos.
Three young peregrinos were there on a bench resting. I had no need but drank a swig of water before leaving them to rest while I crossed the top to the other side and looked out across the wide expanse before me. 
Not a house could be seen but I knew it was there far away hidden in a valley near a river. Last time it had been almost frightening to know I had to face the heat and head out across here not knowing how far the next water was. I started down now and Holde and her companions came by and as steep as it was, they all shouted and waved as they skidded and slid trying to pick the best parts of the rough track. By the time I had reached the bottom where it had been remade, they had disappeared.
Probably half an hour later I came over a small hill and there on the now rough and narrow track I saw them working on Holde's bike. They seemed to be doing ok but said they had to change their plans now.
"We go on to the next big town for parts. Holde would only be able to use one gear all the way."
She is taking photos of me all the time we are chatting.
"I have something for you to bring you luck, it will help you get there and get the parts."
I gave her a four-leaf clover, it was my own clear laminated one, for bringing me luck!
"I find them all the time. I will soon find another I assured her"
She hugged me, kissed me on both cheeks and took more photos! The boys embraced me and shook hands and with a "Bueno camino" and the three rode off, leaving me with an empty feeling hoping I would see them again but almost knowing that was not to be.
It is 10 kms from Castrojeriz to the ermita San Nicolas of Itero de la Vega. They are hard too, there is that first mountain and not a tree for shade all the way. This time I was lucky, as it was cloudy much of the time. I passed the fountain where I remembered filling my water bottle, as I had none left then. It looked as if the fountain had been neglected since the new tarmac road had been laid I thought!
I was sure I had taken the wrong way at a junction because I could see a village to my right and I did not remember seeing one before. There are few markers here, no trees to paint with yellow arrows.
Then I saw it as I remembered, there before the bridge as it has been for hundreds of years. This time I could not see any peregrinos outside the Ermita. At least, although tired, I was feeling better too as I came up to the door. That was different too, being wide open this time, light flooding inside. The Priest was a different man (they change often I was told). He sat at the table with a young lady who had the registration book in front of her. I was asked to sit down and fill in the form and was given a bed. This time inside the Ermita, a top bunk at the end by the stairs. I rested a little while then showered and washed my clothes and hung them to dry behind the building. Then went for a walk to the bridge to look at the river. It was very full this time. Then I saw the peregrinos entering the Ermita and hurried back and I was again the last there. We were asked to sit and say a small prayer around the alter with its gold shining icons. The service was read in Italian, Spanish and English and then we were asked to remove our socks and the young lady who had done the paper work now washed and kissed and blessed our feet.
The man had done it last time, I have now had my feet blessed by both sexes, chuckle. At least this time I knew what was going to happen. Last time it had been a miracle that I had washed my feet under the pump before staggering in here to eat not knowing what was going to happen.
When I arrived at this Ermita for the very first time, I had come from bright sunlight into complete darkness. The first words I had heard came from a priest who was standing in the darkness just inside the door.
"Arr! You are the Australian, for you I have a bed"
I don't know how he knew that! I still don't!
This time had been different but as I sat down to eat at the long table that had been laid down the length of the hall, a lady sitting almost opposite uttered, as I sat down,
"Arr! You are the Australian" and I almost leapt from my seat!
After dinner the word went round that we should all go to the village for a drink and our priest and the lady plus a number of peregrinos were going so I put on my boots and joined them. It was a wonderful star-lit night and was a good kilometre but we were in good spirits. They were all good company and we had some interesting conversations round the table. When we all decided to call it a night after a few wines, we sang all the way back. One elderly man was from England. I had met him a several times, he was a year or two younger than I but wore a hat very similar and had done a fair bit of camino travelling. Laughter, old English, Irish and Aussie songs echoed into the night joined a terrible rendering of 'Oh Solo Mio' for or Italian friends.
Hornillos to Ermita de SanNicolás
At last I had a friend to walk with, Ernesto. He and I were taken to the village and soon were out in open country, the fields of poppies fascinated me giving unbelievable blood red splashes to the landscape.
Any artist putting that colour red to a canvas would be told it can't be that colour! It's straight from the tube, tone it down! But believe me the morning sun would hit the poppies as the clouds scudded overhead and they would become even brighter, no camera could capture the magic and there is magic on this camino.I think it was in the little village of San Bol that you suddenly see after walking acr
oss the wind swept fields of green corn, that we found a nice café and bar. There was only one last time I came here, now there were three and they all seemed to be albergues. After a nice omelette bocadillo sitting in the weak sun in the square, we retired to the warm bar for a cognac then hit the road again.
Ernest walked behind most of the time so I had the walk to myself for a while taking the dirt path from Hontanas till coming down and meeting the road again to the ruins of San Anton, an old XIV century Convent. There is no village, as Leprosy was the common sickness of the peregrino and they were treated here.Soon we could see Castrojeriz, the hill covered on one side red with poppies.
I had terribly bad feet last time and was so tired, while now I felt only a little tired yet I had walked 20 kilometres. We looked at an albergue, but passed it by, my friend saying he would look for a casa rural. There was an awful amount of work going on in the village and we could hardly pass along the main street. The work seemed to finish a bit and we found a local bar and sat at the bar on the stools. Ernest was going to stop here while I thought I must go on, I had a place to visit here and wanted to do the impossible and go on much further like I had done before. No one with that idea should not get in to drinking good red wine! Then the conversation got round to orujo! Now we had to try the four different types till having got the entire bar going. There had been no one here when we arrived! Now it was full of peregrinos chatting about the hardships of camino, chuckle. I must have started that with stories of El Ebro. I embraced my new companion and wished him well, drank a free orujo from the barman and got outside and set off up the street hoping I was not staggering too much. I came round a corner and here was what I wanted, A row of houses and shops with a row of pillars supporting the top floor leaving a covered walkway underneath. I strolled along the flagstones thinking of what had happened to me last time. At the end I stopped as before, outside a hardware store. This time raincoats were hanging on the pillar. Last time I had slept here on the stones in 40° heat in 2003.
On waking had been compelled to touch that round pillar with my back! I had been embarrassed to do it, even though I was alone at the time. I was now but I touched the stone and feeling its firm rough texture under my palm, I patted it and said a little "thank you" to myself.
My confidence returned and I turned and went into the shop. The same old man who had left his shop unlocked while I had lain in front on the flagstones to sleep was serving a customer, I had no idea why I had come in but seeing hat badges on a rack I stood and selected one. I'll take that one of Castrojeriz please" I said to the old man as he came to serve me.
He took the one and started to wrap it up.
"Why is the pillar outside your shop round and all the others square? I asked
"It's from another age" was his smiling reply.
I then told my story of last time I was here and he nodded with a knowing glint in those old eyes. No I don’t think he was thinking I was nuts!
I went out of the small town taking the dirt road across the flat valley floor.
There is a raised track at one place and is, I think, the original way here. I saw two men on bikes come towards me and then stop and turn round while a female dropped her bike and filmed them riding the last section before the tracks meet. She was a very pretty girl and as I too took my turn on this section she waved and filmed me as I too arrived. She called out and carried out an interview with me as the two chaps listened. I don’t think I have met a more vivacious young lady as she kept getting me to move so she could get the best angle and photos of me, my sticks, and my many hat badges. Holde was incredible and I fell for her charm immediately. Holde said like the Australian car Holden without the N she assured me, while I wrote it down to be sure. We chatted for some time swapping stories.
They were from Germany I believe, I should write these things down at the time but I didn't. I gave her my card and she promised to email me the photos. This photo is one she kindly sent to me. I waved, wished them luck and left them riding and photographing in the same place again. Now I soon came to the steep climb up on the other side of the valley. I was almost at the top and still thinking about them and when I turned my head and looked back to see where they were, I couldn't see them anywhere. Looking forward again I was amazed. I could see I had all but reached the top! I had walked with seventeen kilos up this killing climb and not even noticed I had been climbing!!! I had not stopped once! I felt a shiver. I had only patted the pillar this time but it had done the same as before, then I had walked out into the heat and across this valley and up to here without effort. I stopped at the top to take photos.
Three young peregrinos were there on a bench resting. I had no need but drank a swig of water before leaving them to rest while I crossed the top to the other side and looked out across the wide expanse before me. 
Not a house could be seen but I knew it was there far away hidden in a valley near a river. Last time it had been almost frightening to know I had to face the heat and head out across here not knowing how far the next water was. I started down now and Holde and her companions came by and as steep as it was, they all shouted and waved as they skidded and slid trying to pick the best parts of the rough track. By the time I had reached the bottom where it had been remade, they had disappeared.
Probably half an hour later I came over a small hill and there on the now rough and narrow track I saw them working on Holde's bike. They seemed to be doing ok but said they had to change their plans now."We go on to the next big town for parts. Holde would only be able to use one gear all the way."
She is taking photos of me all the time we are chatting.
"I have something for you to bring you luck, it will help you get there and get the parts."
I gave her a four-leaf clover, it was my own clear laminated one, for bringing me luck!
"I find them all the time. I will soon find another I assured her"
She hugged me, kissed me on both cheeks and took more photos! The boys embraced me and shook hands and with a "Bueno camino" and the three rode off, leaving me with an empty feeling hoping I would see them again but almost knowing that was not to be.
It is 10 kms from Castrojeriz to the ermita San Nicolas of Itero de la Vega. They are hard too, there is that first mountain and not a tree for shade all the way. This time I was lucky, as it was cloudy much of the time. I passed the fountain where I remembered filling my water bottle, as I had none left then. It looked as if the fountain had been neglected since the new tarmac road had been laid I thought!
I was sure I had taken the wrong way at a junction because I could see a village to my right and I did not remember seeing one before. There are few markers here, no trees to paint with yellow arrows.
Then I saw it as I remembered, there before the bridge as it has been for hundreds of years. This time I could not see any peregrinos outside the Ermita. At least, although tired, I was feeling better too as I came up to the door. That was different too, being wide open this time, light flooding inside. The Priest was a different man (they change often I was told). He sat at the table with a young lady who had the registration book in front of her. I was asked to sit down and fill in the form and was given a bed. This time inside the Ermita, a top bunk at the end by the stairs. I rested a little while then showered and washed my clothes and hung them to dry behind the building. Then went for a walk to the bridge to look at the river. It was very full this time. Then I saw the peregrinos entering the Ermita and hurried back and I was again the last there. We were asked to sit and say a small prayer around the alter with its gold shining icons. The service was read in Italian, Spanish and English and then we were asked to remove our socks and the young lady who had done the paper work now washed and kissed and blessed our feet. 
The man had done it last time, I have now had my feet blessed by both sexes, chuckle. At least this time I knew what was going to happen. Last time it had been a miracle that I had washed my feet under the pump before staggering in here to eat not knowing what was going to happen.
When I arrived at this Ermita for the very first time, I had come from bright sunlight into complete darkness. The first words I had heard came from a priest who was standing in the darkness just inside the door.
"Arr! You are the Australian, for you I have a bed"
I don't know how he knew that! I still don't!
This time had been different but as I sat down to eat at the long table that had been laid down the length of the hall, a lady sitting almost opposite uttered, as I sat down,
"Arr! You are the Australian" and I almost leapt from my seat!
After dinner the word went round that we should all go to the village for a drink and our priest and the lady plus a number of peregrinos were going so I put on my boots and joined them. It was a wonderful star-lit night and was a good kilometre but we were in good spirits. They were all good company and we had some interesting conversations round the table. When we all decided to call it a night after a few wines, we sang all the way back. One elderly man was from England. I had met him a several times, he was a year or two younger than I but wore a hat very similar and had done a fair bit of camino travelling. Laughter, old English, Irish and Aussie songs echoed into the night joined a terrible rendering of 'Oh Solo Mio' for or Italian friends.
END DAY 21 = approx. 30.3 km Sub Total = 174.8 km Total = 512.7 km
