24th September, Via de la Plata, to Tabara

Bloody freezing…again

We left the Albergue around 7am, it was buzzing with activity whilst the village was still asleep. It was a damned cold start to the day.

The Camino splits here: north towards Astorga and Camino Frances, or west towards Orense to follow Camino Sanabres. I went west. Camino Frances will wait until next year.

 Route choice time

Red in the morning… 

There were thunder & lightning flash-bangs during the previous night, the weather forecast wasn’t good either: a couple of days of thunder storms were promised.

Follow the yellow arrows and you won’t go far wrong 

First objective of the day was to cross the Puente Quintos , the bridge over the Rio Esla. The photo below shows me in a really happy mood with said bridge in the background.

That’s a smile….I promise.

The prospect of bit of a scramble on t’other side of the bridge to gain a rather rocky path had Vanessa, well not exactly going into panic mode, but getting a little nervous. It certainly looked treacherous from a distance. As it was, it was a doddle and we three intrepid pilgrims scooted across in fine style. 

After only a little bit of an uphill tug we were rewarded with good views of the Rio Esla. 

At the top of the ‘hill’ we came across what appeared to be an archaeological dig. 

…and then the first signs of our accommodation for that night 

The coolness of the early part of the day had vanished, it was now damned hot. We’d not eaten much so when we arrived in Faramontanos de Tabara we searched out the first decent looking bar / restaurant for refuelling. I’m really not a walker who has beer during a walk (it’s a completely different story AFTER a walk!) but today I made an exception. A couple of cold beers and a bocadillo really hit the spot.

The lady behind the bar was eyeing up Matthew’s guitar, he didn’t need any more encouragement:

Mattew’s singing even brought some people in from outside – I’m sure the bar owners appreciated the extra business!

The church tower was easily accessible and it afforded a lovely view across the slumbering town – it was siesta time and everything stops for siesta around here. A very gentle ‘ding’ of the church bell resulted in a loud DONG – a much louder sound than we expected. I wouldn’t wonder that some of the town’s inhabitants thought thee ringing of the bell was heralding an imminent invasion or something.

It wasn’t me. Honest.

I tried to photograph this goat as he was chewing at the lower branches of a tree, but by the time I’d pressed the shutter it was just too late. Or too early. This was the best of the very many shots I took….and that’s not saying much. 

Entering the village of Tabara I spotted this German Triumph 900 Thruxton. The owner had fitted a modified final drive: inverted tooth belt. Why on earth more motorcycle manufacturers don’t adopt belt drive I just don’t know. It can’t be that more expensive than chain drive and it lasts so much longer, is virtually maintenance-free….and it’s CLEAN.

Speed the Plough

Lion Country

Another beer (or was it two?) was needed before getting to the albergue at the other side of the village. This really was a splendid place. José, the hospitalero, is a lovely chap who ran the place like clockwork. He wouldn’t let anyone dive in to help him prepare meals, he had it all in hand and did it most efficiently.

The dorm in the albergue 

Dinner is served by our hospitalero. Gracias, José!

A good night’s sleep followed. This was A Very Good Thing, I’d been waking up at 1.30am most mornings and hadn’t been able to get back to sleep – until about 10 minutes before it was time to get up.

Oh, and the storms? It was a load of cobblers, we had no rain at all – just lovely skies all day.

The last week or so

My mate Chris used to live in nearby Sale, but the last few years he’s been all over the show - everywhere from working for the British Antarctic Survey in both Cambridge and on Rothera, travelling in South America, and now he’s going to move to Australia. On a rare return visit to Sale last week he took the opportunity to call in to demand coffee with menaces.
He though he’d wind me up by rolling up on his rather nice Laverda Jota. He succeeded.
I used to like Chris a lot.

A rare example of a classic bike that isn’t kept in a glass cabinet

That evening it was ceilidh time again. I told you all about the ceilidh and I’m pleased to say that some of you rolled up – you seemed to have enjoyed it.