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.

23rd September, Via de la Plata, to Granja de Moreuela

A hungry start to the day

We headed down for breakfast at around 7am. Alas all the bread had been snaffled by two ‘voleur de pain des femmes’, leaving all the other peregrinos breakfastless.

We know who you are…and where you’re from!

We set out (hungrily) to meet up with the hopefully recovered Matthew in Granja de Moreuela…try saying that after a night in the pub!

 Ermita de la Virgen del Castillo

One of the features of this section of the walk is the huge number of really interesting buildings – the old churches especially. The bad news is that most of these churches are locked to prevent bread  stuff being stollen stolen.

I don’t hold a grudge. Honest. But we were hungry.

‘The Stand Pipe’…more of a bothy really. Perhaps I should tell them. 

Lots of irrigation channels around here, perhaps how the building got it’s name.

The ruins of Castrotarafe

Castrotarafe has more than a bit of history behind it: reputedly dating from Roman times, it was inhabited until the eighteenth century. It’s castle was the seat of the Knights of the Order of Santiago. It’s one-time commercial claim to fame was that it controlled traffic across the River Esla.

And you thought I knew nowt….just goes to show, eh?

 Vanessa posing by one the many stone information plaques on the route, this one in Fontanillas de Castro

The parting of the ways: the Via de la Plate becomes El Camino Sanabres if heading off west, a more direct route to Santiago de Compostella. The alternative route northwards to Astorga eventually joins the much busier Camino Frances.

We’d arranged to meet up with an injury-recovered Matthew in Granja de Moreuela – rather hoping that he’s be able to get a bus from Zamora. After a quick beer in the local bar, which was also where we had to register to gain access to the Albergue, the man himself rolled up – guitar slung over his shoulder.

How not to compose a photograph: the Albergue in Granja de Moreuela, with a well fed French lady (she eats too much bread you know) and Patrice…also French, but he doesn’t eat too much bread at all. 

Matthew is an accomplished singer – songwriter with a couple of CDs to his name. He writes some good stuff. Have a listen to some of his songs, you won’t be disappointed.

The Albergue was quite full that night, a group of cycling peregrinos rolled up to join the throng. We had a pleasant evening in the restaurant: a good meal, a couple of beers (or was it vino tinto?) and excellent company. It was good to have Matthew back on board.

22nd September, Via de la Plata, Zamora onwards…

To Montemarta

Poor Matthew was struggling with his poorly knee, an extra night in the care of Seranella and Maria at the Albergue was the prescribed treatment. Vanessa (Mrs Matthew) and I soldiered on, leaving Matthew and Frank to sample a few beers before Frank left for Portugal and his own injury recovery.

Zamora isn’t a huge city by any means and it wasn’t too long before we were in open country once again although the Camino closely followed the course of the main N630 road.

The first village we encountered was Roales de Pan, just a few miles north of Zamora. It was far too early to contemplate stopping for a break although we took the opportunity to take some photos:

 The two photos above are of someone’s back garden in the village 

Vanessa posing in front of the village pump

Just across the way from the village pump was the Ayuntamiento, the town hall. We snuck in and had our Credencials stamped. A chap needs his Credencial stamping you know. It’s important.

Leaving the village, again heading north, we were soon out in open country. It wasn’t exciting scenery (in fact it was downright boring) but it made for itchingly rapid progress. This was good because it was an itchingly hot 28degC. Well I was itching, Vanessa just strolled gracefully onwards…but she’s a lady.

At one point we stopped for a bite and a drink. On a bridge. It was very hot. And I was itching and scratching madly. Our food consisted of squashed apple turnover thingies whilst our drink was the finest (warm) corporation pop that Spain could provide. It was good.

There has been much investment in the Spanish road network….but I get the distinct impression that the money tap has been turned off. Although our lunch bridge had been completed (sort of), we came across other bridges that were only half-built – quite literally half a bridge. Bloody dangerous if you’re wobbling your way home from the pub in the dark.

Entering Montemarta we passed a modern Milario = a photo opportunity not to be missed:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…and a statue of the mythical creature El Zangarron:

At the village fiesta to celebrate the winter solstice, villagers dressed as this creature chase people through the streets hitting them with a sort of trident. That’s the people they hit, not the streets. The consumption of beer and wine seems to play an important in this celebration.

Have a shufty of this.

After our photo-shoot we made straight for the bar / restaurant for essential refreshments: a beer and a bite to eat. And a gander at an El Zangarron familiar behind the bar:

Trying to find the Albergue was another matter altogether. There weren’t any signs in the village so we asked behind the bar….well Vanessa did, her can speaka da lingo remarkably well.

We were directed to the local supermarket that was being manned (girled?) by a young girl who promptly shut up shop and led us to an ordinary-looking house that was the Albergue – gawd knows how you were supposed to find the place without local knowledge.

For the princely sum of 10 Euros each we had dormitory accommodation AND breakfast the following morning.

Our dorm for the night

Well we should have had breakfast….more of that later.

We did, however, enjoy an excellent meal in the restaurant that evening. And it cost not a lot.

19th – 21st September: A bit more about Salamanca to Zamora

The walk from Salamanca to Calzada de Valdunciel took rather longer than planned. The weather had unexpectedly turned quite cool so I diverted to the local Decathlon to buy a lightweight fleece. Decathlon is on the south side of Salamanca, Calzada de Valdunciel is to the north. Oh well, it only added and 6-7 miles to the day.

I arrived (hungrily) at the cosy Albergue in Calzada de Valdunciel at around 8.30pm. With everywhere in the village being closed I had to rely on my rather meagre rations for sustenance. At least I managed to get a nice hot shower before bed.

The dorm had some rather unwelcome guests. The only legitimate guests, Patrice, Christien and I, all suffered at their teeth. Bedbugs.

The buggers caused some severe itchings, scratchings and general irritation. I’d sprayed my sleeping bag and liner with Permethrin prior to leaving home and this no doubt saved me from the worst ravages of the little beasts, but the nasty blighters still managed to take a good few nibbles of my exposed tender bits.

Bedbug Central, Calzada de Valdunciel 

Where Bedbugs love to eat 

 

  Knackered old cart, Calzada de Valdunciel 

Scratching and itching our rather hungry way northwards, to El Cubo de la Tierra del Vino (to give it’s full title) we three decided to just go for it – we’d be bound to find somewhere to eat before too long….after all, this was Spain, a country where eating is taken seriously.

Although not around here.

Christien, little me, and Patrice… and El Cubo 

Fortunately the Albergue Torre de Sabre in El Cubo came to the rescue in fine style:

L>R: Allan and & Christina from Denmark (serious walkers!), our Hospitalero, Frank, Miguel – all troughing in El Cubo. The hospitalero at the head of the table making sure we all eat our greens…otherwise there’s no pudding. We did, and there was.

Frankfurt Frank getting fresh with Mrs Hospitalera…he was hoping for another helping of dinner. Miguel, the cycling peregrino, is actually an undercover divorce lawyer on the look out for potential business.

Zamora

The next day we (Frankfurt Frank and me) arrived in Zamora.

Zamora is a small city that’s well worth exploring. Frankfurt Frank and I spent quite some time wandering around the bars  the many interesting sites and sights:

 San Juan de Puerta Nueva Church

Teatro Ramos Carrion

The Hotel Parador – we were wandering around the outside of the building, gawping at it’s magnificent beauty, when a very smartly–dressed man invited us inside to look around. ‘Open any door’ he said….so we did:

 

Our next stop was the Albergue…..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

….where we were to enjoy excellent hospitality…

…and no bedbugs:

The next morning we all left – apart from Matthew who was suffering a knee injury. An extra night in company of Seranella and Maria would see him right. Frankfurt Frank headed out west to Portugal to rest his broken foot. And to celebrate his birthday. I hope he got mended…and enjoyed his birthday!

L > R: Seranella, Frank, Maria, me, Miguel

Seranella in sun salutation mode

 

 

An overview of the route and more information on the Via de la Plata can be found here.

Via de la Plata Fartons

A Spanish treat, scented perhaps.

Via de la Plata, to Montemarte

A far more interesting day despite the first few grim kilometres of tarmac needed to exit the town. 

Route advice from the Cicerone guide book, waymarks and helpful locals all added to the, er, interest. 

There were far more Milarios and other features today. One garden I passed had been converted into a shrine of sorts - with all manner of garden-gnome type stuff.  Actually very impressive! 

Roadside water taps were more apparent, these were not only water supplies for the villages but also as very important  supplies for thirsty Peregrinos. 

I'll re-post with more photos when I get home, most of my photos were taken on my camera rather than my phone.