I am walking in a wind turbine forest today. Tall, silent, looming presences stand sentinel along the meseta for the best part of 5 km. In the dark predawn landscape the white turbines assume a shimmering beauty as the sun rises behind them. It seems that they reach up forever into the sky, rather like a space version of Jack’s beanstalk.
We all know what happened to Jack when he reached the top of that beanstalk. But for me this morning there is no fear of giants,nor any wish to find the gold purse .
I am simply walking and and taking in the magnitude of this man created forest. A mass of silvery white shapes topped with the still blades stretches as far as the eye can see .
Pre dawn
I’m content to be here below, walking in the cool morning and looking skywards at another fairy tale morning.
Today we walked Camino Madrid from Cigunuela to Castromonte(24km). The last 10 km was in seering heat, rising in waves from the hard sand underfoot. We started before the sun rose and the first two hours were magical even in this meseta of central Spain. The horizon stretched endlessly ahead and the straight road was just a narrow white strip in the shadowy moonscape. Tall bales of hay appeared at intervals creating Stonehenge -like shapes. On either side of the road there was a mix of poppies, thistles, coloured weeds. Corn crops were interspersed with newly planted alfalfa and red earth just hoed or lying fallow,
As we came towards Wamba the terrain changed. Suddenly we were climbing up cliffs into an old limestone village named after a Visigoth King Wamba in 672.
Nothing was open yet, so we walked through the sleeping village. I had a quick look at the limestone church dating from 928:Nuestra Senora de la Asuncion, unusual and historically interesting .
It was a quick look as we were so intent on reaching our destination before the heat set in.
Church of Nuestra Senora and a quick look at this historical church
It began to feel as if we were trying to win a race as our stride quickened and the sun rose higher. Next stop was in the bar of a town set high up on a rocky cliff , with the beautiful name Penaflor de Hornija. Time for a welcome coffee and coke.
The next 10km were hard with the sun now firmly in control and the temperature rising, We plodded on. I focussed on the flowers on either side of the path and slowed my breathing.
I felt hotter as each km slowly passed, and tireder. Parts of my body took a turn tormenting : first the hip, then a blistered toe, then my knee, then an ankle. I watched the side of the road for colour and movement , to distract myself from the discomfort. It was then I saw my blue butterfly.
It was moving softly amongst the cornflowers.Do blue butterflies exist?Can butterflies assume the colour of plants they settle on? Was the butterfly an illusion?It doesn’t matter because that blue butterfly kept me walking until Castromonte.
Well as proper peregrinos we should be walking every single day, each etapa( stage). In June in central Spain on this Camino Madrid this means slogging along for 20/24 km each day. Slogging along paths that are “ preciosa” in early summer but are now straight, sandy, treeless ways. The landscape, which seems to stretch on forever, is brown corn or grass with the occasional red poppy and groups of upright yellow plants.
First peregrino piece on way to Cigunuela today . Breaking into monotony A long hard slog to the top in the heat
So getting a bus or train for part of the longer stages, when we can, is always an option, not an easy option though. We work like our two cats at home: one is good at spying the mouse and the other good at catching. So Doug checks timetables and explores route strategies, working out if the transport is regional or local and if there is a bus or train option.
Then we find our way to the station or where the transport goes from. I locate the window or machine to buy our tickets, pronouncing the name of our intended destination correctly, and reach the Parada. It’s important here not to become too confident. Watch the queue. If no others are gathering then maybe it’s the wrong one. Always be ready to move to another spot or to get onto a bus which can suddenly arrive. Transport in Spain in our experience is always on time and stops and leaves quite fast. So you could be left on the train if you don’t get off fast enough, or see the train start off as you grab your sticks and bag.
If all goes well you get on the bus. However once again, caution. Just this morning on our way to Cigunuela we were jerked out of a dreamy state by the bus driver, we’d arrived at our destination. We’d settled ourselves for a longer ride and forgotten to be observant.
Ha. Got the right train here in Valdestillas to Valladolid . But at first we were waiting on the wrong platform Doug n Sue Day 11 Camino Madrid
On the way to Colmenar looking forward to my room and shower
In UK it’s showers that turn on in strange ways, or don’t turn on. Or you’re not allowed to use the shower because there’s no hot water. In Spain the showers are fine. It’s keys. At least when on a Camino, for this peregrina, making a way, it’s keys.
First its finding the person who holds the keys in the small village. We are usually hot and tired and just ready to fall into a bed of any kind. The “donde es las llaves?” question is at the tip of my tongue by now. But the heat, the anxiety and the expectations mean that it is a while before I understand and the other person understands what we need. I think I am speaking understandable Spanish, they often do not understand at first.
Often the place where the person who has the keys lives or works is closed for the afternoon. Then it’s locating the place where the keys belong, following directions to the albergue, usually up a hill we have just walked down. Once we find the place we insert the key into a lock and jiggle it until the door opens.
However, just tonight in a small town Colmenar, 40 km out of Madrid, the key issue hit us again. We found the accomodation with not too much trouble thanks to google maps. We settled into our room, received our 3 keys.
After a shower and a rest we went out and locked it as instructed with key no 1, through the self locking entrance to the second floor (key no 2 to get in again) down the stairs to the final door with key no 3. Learning from past mishaps I remained inside while Doug tried the key in the lock. Nothing. Again. Nothing. He tried repeatedly until a man who lives on the second floor came along, inserted his key, jiggled it around, and the door opened . We tried But still we could not get it right.
the key will not open the lock
We phoned the owner. Her message said she was not answering till later as at a celebration. So Doug stayed inside while I went out to search for food and drink. After a series of messages back and forth on WhatsAp in Spanish, she arrived, gave us a lesson on key jiggling which we still could not manage. Finally she told us to press 2A bell when we wanted to come in and the door would open. By now we had been key studying for at least three hours on and off. This is Colmenar.
I later went to Mass at the Gothic Church on the hill. I held my breath as the priest went to open the tabernacle (where the host for communion is kept locked away) but he unlocked it on the second go.
Keys are a constant negotiation but I am getting better at finding and using them and less panicky. Posting stuff from a too heavy back pack is another matter. It’s also fraught with unforeseen problems.
Despite walking several caminos we always have too much which involves a trip to the post office to post surplus weight to a relative in the UK.
So the trip to the post office, the correo, throws up unexpected complications. We find the correo easily, take a number and wait. Just behind us were of different sized boxes so we fit 3. 8 kilos of stuff into the middle sized one, and stand in the queue. The Senora at the desk waves her arms and I realised that we had done something incorrectly. The lady next in line said we had used the wrong box and needed the external posting box. The Senora gets another box and we took everything out of the first box and placed it in the second.
Waiting to post our box of stuff (wrong box1)
That was just the beginning. Since Brexit UK post now requires customs forms and there were questions about contents and values. plus the hardest thing of all: the post code which initially I had wrong, and later the Senora read wrongly. The Lincoln address and the postcode elicited a lot of questions. An hour later we were finished. Hopefully the parcel arrives at its destination
However the Senora was polite and helpful at all times. So I get to “the other things”. The people are the wonderful things about Spain and walking. Thank you Senora Correo. Also the Senora in the Farmacia in Penabla, a small town two nights before Salamanca. She explained where the Camino exited the town and called the bar to ask the owner to open up for us that night (there was no shop there or other source of food). She listened patiently to find some remedies for my feet and an ankle strap.
In Fontiveros we were invited to join a poetry launch, tour of the historical city and invited to lunch (See Sambasue21.Blog at http://www.wordpress.com). In the next village one of the men who was a part of the celebration joined us outside the bar and talked to us about his family, Spain, political events. I recognise how hard it was to grasp our inadequate Spanish, and to converse with us. Also the bar man at the Bolero bar in Salamanca, who listened to us waffle on, and shared his love of music with us, taught me how to pronounce some words with the rolling of the lips. Finally thanks to the young guy at Salamanca station who told us we can get the Dorado (gold )card and spent time organising refunds and issuing the card. Gracias all of you.
It’s the ‘other things”that make a difference.
Gracias the Bolero for your great music and talk Our tarjetas Dorado
I cannot recognise many of the markers on this road I walked with my daughter 4 years ago. We got off the train at Colmenar and after enquiring in very bad Spanish “Donde es ?” the flèchas or arrows that direct along the path, we walked up a very steep hill and somehow reached the right place. The first flecha was on the wall next to the church of the Annunciation. My memory of that cold, unsettled morning is of a smaller church and the plaza full of workmen digging. We clicked sticks and off we went on our mother/daughter adventure.
2018 Camino Madrid From Colmenar the first flechaCold
It was icy cold along rocky treeless plain, that’s my memory of it. We sheltered behind rocks whenever we could from the wind which whipped around our head. Our faces were too frozen to move our lips and talk. Every now and then soggy cold bits of water fell on us, enough to run off the surface of jackets and into the tops of our muddy boots.
Today it’s very hot. We started at 9am, too late really, but even and hour into the walk I feel the sun coming off the gravelly path and hitting my face. The road stretches on relentlessly and I watch my feet over the rocks and gullies. I also watch for bikes. It is Sunday and people are off on their mountain bikes for the day to the next place Manzanares el Real. Bikes come hurtling zigzagging across rocks and dirt and I have to move out of the way on this narrow path. I recognise the rock behind behind which we sheltered from the wind four years ago, and we laughed against the cold wind as we spied the flecha on the rock. We were on the right path. Today after that recognition, most of the way was unfamiliar.
How could I have forgotten the markers on the path? Maybe I was so intent on watching where I put my feet and contending with the cold. Or perhaps the path has been re routed. Or maybe memory plays tricks. Perhaps I am attempting to rediscover or reinvent an atmosphere or mood which cannot be recreated: the exhilaration of a start of an adventure and a hope.
Today I am conscious of the sun bearing down and regret my missed coffee. We rushed out of Colmenar, it is Sunday so coffee shops not open that early. The path varies between stoney and flat and stones and uphill. Even 3 weeks ago the countryside would have been pretty. Today the lavender and yellow bushes have passed their best. Maybe I have too because after 10km of walking, and getting out of the way of cyclists as they hurtle past, I long for coffee or coke Xero , and shade.
It’s a long hot way already And getting hotter A short pretty bit where I can see the beauty
A rest under a tree and we eat the chocolate wafer brought from Colmenar, water, some stale bread. Off again. A few bits that lighten the walk: the trees against the mountains as we approach Manzanares el Real ( village of real apples!), a single white cloud in a gimlet blue sky. Then it’s a wind downhill beside the lake and a walk into the Centre. First bar, here we are. Coke Zero and beer and all’s nearly right with the world.
Sambasue21 