17/06/07
On went the lights!!!b It was that damn man again everyone was to suffer a 6 am get up call because he and his entourage wanted to get away early. I pulled the sleeping bag up and over my head but it was impossible to get back to sleep as they treated their feet and the ladies massaged the old sod and generally wasted time till 7am before leaving! I was mad but managed to keep my cool till in the end I rose too and prepared to leave and Francesca and I left about quarter past. No coffee was available in the village so we set off up the hard climb in cold wet weather.
Breathtaking scenery but not the best day to see it.
Francesca was very subdued and I walked in front most of the time. We stopped several times too for her to rest. Then as we came across an old farmhouse Francesca suggested we each go on at our own pace now. I was a bit worried as I thought she was just very tired, after days of cold and wet with having little sleep and no breakfast this morning.
"Ok, then I'll go on, but I will stop in the next café if you want to meet up again OK?"
I left her leaning against the stone wall under a tree and continued up hill in pouring rain. The very next village Laguna was less than a kilometre further and here was the first cafe of the day. There was a bit of shelter from the rain to put rucksacks outside and I unloaded mine and put it with the two others there. Two young ladies were trying to run the bar but as far as I could make out it was their first day of being open, although they said it was the first week. They had to get bread from the house across the road so I could have toast and jam, a tostada! They eventually managed the coffee and cognac as Francesca came in and sat down with me chuckling how hard it was to get rid of me!
Meanwhile I sent the bar-girl off to get more bread for another tostada! Francesca seemed in much better spirits after a warm drink and tostada. We waited for the rain to ease then continued on together. The terrain was getting easier now too but still climbing. We arrived at the top of this mythical climb of O Cebreiro and had a little look around the little village but from here the weather started to turn bad again.
In conversation with Francesca a little further on I said
"Somewhere just back there while on my first French camino, I talked my lady companion into following an unmarked path to the left, when she said her map book said a right turn. We climbed to the very top of that mountain that's towered above us on the left. We lost the path completely at the top, it had just fizzled out. From there we spotted a tiny bit of this road below us and then had to scramble downhill over stonewalls, through high-bracken, prickly holly bushes and gorse, down that ten-foot drop over there and onto this very road we were walking on." I chuckled. "So you see so far we're doing better than last time"
I pointed to the yellow arrow marked on the road in front, telling us to turn to the right, down a county lane. I turned to Francesca and continued,
"I remember last time, we followed that arrow from here. The Camino soon turns left and cuts out across the fields over there. I said pointing
Francesca frowned and replied
"I've had enough of muddy paths and mountains" and then stated firmly,
"I'm not leaving the road!"
I nodded
"True' with today's weather being so horrible we could be walking in deep mud."
I debated the thought, that the main road would probably get us there but it could be a lot further!'
Anyway we ignored the arrow and the lane and followed the main road, just as Francesca wanted, with me seriously hoping it was the right decision!
Fortunately for us it never made much difference to the kilometres as most of the way the real camino could be seen running close by, just muddier. Fighting horrible rain and wind we climbed the San Roque pass with its superb bronze statue at the top. A larger than life peregrino bracing himself against the weather.
I noted he looked just as natural today in cold wind and rain as that day four years ago in the heat. Standing there I could almost see my companion fooling about copying the statue's pose while I sat and lanced my huge painful blisters! It might be cold and wet today but I was very glad my feet were not giving me the same problem today!
Pressing on, first along the windy ridge. Then the road went down a little and on into the village of Hospital. Here we stopped for hot soup in a nice rural bar come restaurant. It was a charming place all grey stone and beams. We hung up our waterproofs and went through to the bar and selected a table. Over coffee, while chatting to Francesca, I suggested
"We should try to get a better night's sleep tonight, in a Casa Rural. That's if you're agreeable? I'm not sure how far it is but I remember I stopped in one a bit further on."
"Ok" She agreed
"Ok I'll ask the girl behind the bar if she knows the place and get her to phone."
I rose and went up to the bar and asked her
"Sí señor, the man that just left the bar, is the proprietor! You missed him by just a few moments!" She exclaimed
She now kindly agreed to phone the Casa Rural and we booked two rooms there. All we had to do now was walk there!
Daft as it may seem I had no idea how far it was, only that the village name in my map book was Viduedo! If I had looked, I would have seen it was about 9 kms!
This turned out to be a real test of our stamina! We walked clad in our flapping waterproof capes through cold rain, wind, and mist, cloud and sun one after the other, then it would do it all over again. The weather got a little better as we were passing a sign post Francesca spotted, the village spelt with a B, Biduedo and tired we turned towards, hoping it was the same village.
"Do you know where it is" asked Francesca
I was hoping I would remember the little farm cottage that was a working farm, all I remembered it was as you left the village. As we arrived at the village, we were greeted with notices declaring a new albergue and we passed it's white painted walls wondering if we were doing the right thing. Then I saw it just as I remembered it in 2003.
The road covered with a thin layer of dusty cow dung, was sloping towards it as it curved round past the little door that led down steps into the bar. The door was ajar and we stepped over and down into the dark and cosy little bar. I had loved my stop here last time but now realised it might not have been quite what Francesca had thought a Casa Rural should be!
Entering the bar I called out, no one came so I tried again louder. Still no one came. Francesca looking around went down steps into a dark room and I followed. We found the light switch, it was the dining room laid with red table cloths. This room only has two tiny barred windows high up that seem never to open and the acid smell from animals being kept for centuries at the rear was very strong!
I knew you get used to it after a while chuckle! Francesca never said anything about it but as we came back out she was looking at the dust on the row of unlabeled bottles at the rear of the bar. Being tall she lent over the bar and made a mental note of the cracked sink!
"We had better get back to the albergue while we can still get a bed" she said turning and climbing the steps out.
I followed saying
"Wait a moment, you've got to see the rooms." I was protesting. Then saw the dueña and her family dressed in rough farm clothes and rubber boots coming up the unmade farm track that we would have to leave by tomorrow. She waved to us and called out and welcomed us with a beaming smile. I followed her in again and looked round to see if Francesca had followed, she had so I said to our host in my poor Spanish that we had phoned and asked if we could look at the rooms.
"Two?" she inquired and I had to explain we were not married
"Solo amigos del camino" I said smiling.
"No problema" and she took keys from the wall and we were taken up a flight of wooden stairs and along the passage and shown the two rooms, each had a modern bathroom. Francesca felt the beds and said
"I'll take this one" she said "if that is ok?"
So we were stopping.
"OK I'll take the end one, when do you want to eat"
About seven we decided and we arranged to have our washing done by the dueña who advised us she was sorry but she had no dryer. We would at least have clean clothes if we could get them dry by hanging them in our rooms. I had enough clean for one more day except socks. We both showered and I took down the dirty clothes and gave them to the dueña. We would be able to collect them later when we met up in the bar. Francesca joined us and our host took down two small glasses and rinsed them and then got one of the dusty bottles and poured a couple of stiff measures of orujo for us.
"On the house to keep out the cold" she smiled.
Dinner was served at seven as promised and was good with a choice of meats or fish and the bread home baked. I knew, not only because it tasted good but because I had seen her cook it in the wood oven to the side of the house last time here. Ok not the same bread!!!!
I told her I had stopped here before with a crowd of Spaniards and seen her making her bread.
"Your chorizo wrapped and cooked inside a roll of bread was fantastic I remember."
"I only bake three times a week" she said, "sadly you've arrived on the wrong day."
"Never mind I can assure you today's bread is still very good."
About half way through our meal we were joined in the restaurant by a nice young couple of peregrinos. We drank a bottle of red, chatted with them and ate a flan for postre then retired, arranging to meet at seven for breakfast.
I pinned my washing to the curtains as best I could then went to bed and slept really well.
Faba to Biduedo
On went the lights!!!b It was that damn man again everyone was to suffer a 6 am get up call because he and his entourage wanted to get away early. I pulled the sleeping bag up and over my head but it was impossible to get back to sleep as they treated their feet and the ladies massaged the old sod and generally wasted time till 7am before leaving! I was mad but managed to keep my cool till in the end I rose too and prepared to leave and Francesca and I left about quarter past. No coffee was available in the village so we set off up the hard climb in cold wet weather.
Breathtaking scenery but not the best day to see it.
Francesca was very subdued and I walked in front most of the time. We stopped several times too for her to rest. Then as we came across an old farmhouse Francesca suggested we each go on at our own pace now. I was a bit worried as I thought she was just very tired, after days of cold and wet with having little sleep and no breakfast this morning. 
"Ok, then I'll go on, but I will stop in the next café if you want to meet up again OK?"
I left her leaning against the stone wall under a tree and continued up hill in pouring rain. The very next village Laguna was less than a kilometre further and here was the first cafe of the day. There was a bit of shelter from the rain to put rucksacks outside and I unloaded mine and put it with the two others there. Two young ladies were trying to run the bar but as far as I could make out it was their first day of being open, although they said it was the first week. They had to get bread from the house across the road so I could have toast and jam, a tostada! They eventually managed the coffee and cognac as Francesca came in and sat down with me chuckling how hard it was to get rid of me!
Meanwhile I sent the bar-girl off to get more bread for another tostada! Francesca seemed in much better spirits after a warm drink and tostada. We waited for the rain to ease then continued on together. The terrain was getting easier now too but still climbing. We arrived at the top of this mythical climb of O Cebreiro and had a little look around the little village but from here the weather started to turn bad again.
In conversation with Francesca a little further on I said"Somewhere just back there while on my first French camino, I talked my lady companion into following an unmarked path to the left, when she said her map book said a right turn. We climbed to the very top of that mountain that's towered above us on the left. We lost the path completely at the top, it had just fizzled out. From there we spotted a tiny bit of this road below us and then had to scramble downhill over stonewalls, through high-bracken, prickly holly bushes and gorse, down that ten-foot drop over there and onto this very road we were walking on." I chuckled. "So you see so far we're doing better than last time"
I pointed to the yellow arrow marked on the road in front, telling us to turn to the right, down a county lane. I turned to Francesca and continued,
"I remember last time, we followed that arrow from here. The Camino soon turns left and cuts out across the fields over there. I said pointing
Francesca frowned and replied
"I've had enough of muddy paths and mountains" and then stated firmly,
"I'm not leaving the road!"
I nodded
"True' with today's weather being so horrible we could be walking in deep mud."
I debated the thought, that the main road would probably get us there but it could be a lot further!'
Anyway we ignored the arrow and the lane and followed the main road, just as Francesca wanted, with me seriously hoping it was the right decision!
Fortunately for us it never made much difference to the kilometres as most of the way the real camino could be seen running close by, just muddier. Fighting horrible rain and wind we climbed the San Roque pass with its superb bronze statue at the top. A larger than life peregrino bracing himself against the weather.
I noted he looked just as natural today in cold wind and rain as that day four years ago in the heat. Standing there I could almost see my companion fooling about copying the statue's pose while I sat and lanced my huge painful blisters! It might be cold and wet today but I was very glad my feet were not giving me the same problem today!
Pressing on, first along the windy ridge. Then the road went down a little and on into the village of Hospital. Here we stopped for hot soup in a nice rural bar come restaurant. It was a charming place all grey stone and beams. We hung up our waterproofs and went through to the bar and selected a table. Over coffee, while chatting to Francesca, I suggested
"We should try to get a better night's sleep tonight, in a Casa Rural. That's if you're agreeable? I'm not sure how far it is but I remember I stopped in one a bit further on."
"Ok" She agreed
"Ok I'll ask the girl behind the bar if she knows the place and get her to phone."
I rose and went up to the bar and asked her
"Sí señor, the man that just left the bar, is the proprietor! You missed him by just a few moments!" She exclaimed
She now kindly agreed to phone the Casa Rural and we booked two rooms there. All we had to do now was walk there!
Daft as it may seem I had no idea how far it was, only that the village name in my map book was Viduedo! If I had looked, I would have seen it was about 9 kms!
This turned out to be a real test of our stamina! We walked clad in our flapping waterproof capes through cold rain, wind, and mist, cloud and sun one after the other, then it would do it all over again. The weather got a little better as we were passing a sign post Francesca spotted, the village spelt with a B, Biduedo and tired we turned towards, hoping it was the same village.
"Do you know where it is" asked Francesca
I was hoping I would remember the little farm cottage that was a working farm, all I remembered it was as you left the village. As we arrived at the village, we were greeted with notices declaring a new albergue and we passed it's white painted walls wondering if we were doing the right thing. Then I saw it just as I remembered it in 2003.
The road covered with a thin layer of dusty cow dung, was sloping towards it as it curved round past the little door that led down steps into the bar. The door was ajar and we stepped over and down into the dark and cosy little bar. I had loved my stop here last time but now realised it might not have been quite what Francesca had thought a Casa Rural should be!Entering the bar I called out, no one came so I tried again louder. Still no one came. Francesca looking around went down steps into a dark room and I followed. We found the light switch, it was the dining room laid with red table cloths. This room only has two tiny barred windows high up that seem never to open and the acid smell from animals being kept for centuries at the rear was very strong!
I knew you get used to it after a while chuckle! Francesca never said anything about it but as we came back out she was looking at the dust on the row of unlabeled bottles at the rear of the bar. Being tall she lent over the bar and made a mental note of the cracked sink!
"We had better get back to the albergue while we can still get a bed" she said turning and climbing the steps out.
I followed saying
"Wait a moment, you've got to see the rooms." I was protesting. Then saw the dueña and her family dressed in rough farm clothes and rubber boots coming up the unmade farm track that we would have to leave by tomorrow. She waved to us and called out and welcomed us with a beaming smile. I followed her in again and looked round to see if Francesca had followed, she had so I said to our host in my poor Spanish that we had phoned and asked if we could look at the rooms.
"Two?" she inquired and I had to explain we were not married
"Solo amigos del camino" I said smiling.
"No problema" and she took keys from the wall and we were taken up a flight of wooden stairs and along the passage and shown the two rooms, each had a modern bathroom. Francesca felt the beds and said
"I'll take this one" she said "if that is ok?"
So we were stopping.
"OK I'll take the end one, when do you want to eat"
About seven we decided and we arranged to have our washing done by the dueña who advised us she was sorry but she had no dryer. We would at least have clean clothes if we could get them dry by hanging them in our rooms. I had enough clean for one more day except socks. We both showered and I took down the dirty clothes and gave them to the dueña. We would be able to collect them later when we met up in the bar. Francesca joined us and our host took down two small glasses and rinsed them and then got one of the dusty bottles and poured a couple of stiff measures of orujo for us.
"On the house to keep out the cold" she smiled.
Dinner was served at seven as promised and was good with a choice of meats or fish and the bread home baked. I knew, not only because it tasted good but because I had seen her cook it in the wood oven to the side of the house last time here. Ok not the same bread!!!!
I told her I had stopped here before with a crowd of Spaniards and seen her making her bread.
"Your chorizo wrapped and cooked inside a roll of bread was fantastic I remember."
"I only bake three times a week" she said, "sadly you've arrived on the wrong day."
"Never mind I can assure you today's bread is still very good."
About half way through our meal we were joined in the restaurant by a nice young couple of peregrinos. We drank a bottle of red, chatted with them and ate a flan for postre then retired, arranging to meet at seven for breakfast.
I pinned my washing to the curtains as best I could then went to bed and slept really well.
END DAY 33 = approx. 19.0 km Sub Total = 479.1 km Total = 806.0 km well.
