22nd September, Via de la Plata, Day 4

To Arco de Caparra and Jarilla

The rather rushed start to the day left my head in a bit of a whirl. The previous evening’s apparently fruitless attempt at arranging for a taxi had in fact worked. In my very best Spanish, Flemish, German and French (along with a smattering of English) I had phoned the local taxi man to try to order a taxi to avoid the first 10km of busy tarmac. I was quite convinced this very nice man thought that I was some kind of lunatic who was hell bent on making nuisance phone calls and irritating the hell out of him and his wife.

I crawled out of my bed at 6.50am to make a coffee and do the other things a chap needs to do first thing in the morning, when I heard a car pull up outside the albergue….and then a rattling on the front door. It was Señor Taxi Driver – my nuisance phone call had worked! Fortunately I had most of my kit packed so I managed to dress (T-shirt inside out!), pack my sleeping bag and snatch something to eat from the breakfast table, all in less than 10 minutes.

15 minutes later Señor Taxi Driver delivered me to a bar in Carcaboso (pronounced ‘Karackabouso’) where I was able to enjoyed a couple of cups of cafe con leche for that oh-so-very important dose of caffeine.

I was absolutely delighted to catch up with Ully once again, he had pushed on to Carcaboso the previous afternoon and had secured lodgings in the town. We spent 10 minutes comparing notes before he set off towards Arco de Caparra.

A freshly laundered Ully ready to hit the trail

Ully was walking at around 4-5kph, a similar pace to me so I didn’t expect to see him again that day – my two coffees were going to delay me by a good 20 – 25 minutes.

At 8am I left the bar and looked for the tell-tale yellow arrows to direct me out of the town onto the Camino. Pop music was blasting away somewhere, I couldn’t tell where it was coming from – well not for a few minutes anyway. Then I came a cross this:

Carcaboso was having some sort of all-night bash designed to keep the residents awake all the previous night, Beer and wine were flowing, there was dancing and folks were really enjoying themselves. Now I like my beer, I’ll even stay up late at night in the interests of beer consumption – but not ALL night. I’ve since discovered that this hoolie last NINE DAYS, that’s one hell of a bash!

Inebriated revellers directed me out of the town, they must have thought this foreigner was a bloody idiot because I seemed to be going round in circles. Eventually I made my escape by three roadside crucifixes:

Definitely back on the Camino….T shirt now correctly aligned

Today’s route went through a large private estate. High fences, CCTV and floodlights kept any would-be trespassers at bay. The local bird life took advantage of some of the CCTV placements:

Judging from the airgun pellet damage on this sign I would say that peregrinos may not be overly welcome in these parts:

By now the sun was high and so was the temperature. My new Tilley hat paid for itself on this walk, even with decent sunglasses the days were very bright.

I was soon back on farm tracks….walking through farms. Spanish farmers like to get every last ounce of use from their machinery:

The modern Via de la Plata follows the original Roman (and later Christian pilgrimage) route. Milarios old and new were either on the modern route or very close to it:

There wasn’t any chance of refreshment on this section of the walk, what appeared to be a bar from a distance was actually a farm house:

 Venta Quemada

I managed to find a little shade for a sit down and a breather – and another of Aldi’s best washed down with a few glugs of corporation pop.

The next few miles were really quite beautiful, following a walled lane for the last few miles to one of the highlights of this trip:

Arco de Caparra

Caparra, according to the tourist info, is no mere museum piece – the Camino actually passes underneath the four-square ‘triumphal arch’, Arco de Caparra. The arch is part of a Roman city which is slowly but surely being excavated and is now quite a tourist attraction.

Excavations of the Roman city of Caparra

Accommodation wasn’t easily available from Caparra but the enterprising owners of Hostal Asturia in nearby Jarilla offer transport from Arco de Caparra to their hostal 8km away. I made a quick phone call (thank heavens for mobile phones) to the hostal and 20 minutes later a minibus arrived to collect 4 peregrinos and whisk us off to cold beer, nice showers, real beds, good food…….need I go on?

Total distance for the day: around 24km….excluding the minibus ride!

Tuesday 9th October, Hashing in Cheshire

Cheshire Hash House Harriers (CH3) runs are always approx 7:45 pm. Always Tuesday (except sometimes). Well that’s what their website says.

My confidence in the health of my knees had been boosted in recent days.

Q: What’s the best way to try to knacker them up again?

A: Go for a run with the Hash.

Last night they ran from the Rifleman in Wilmslow, a rather posh town in north Cheshire. At approx 7:45pm a group of 35 runners set off from the pub to follow a trail made up of bits of tissue paper – usually stuck in hedges or wrapped around bits of barbed wire fence.

5 miles 1 furlong, very little ascent, lots of fun. And mud.

As it was dark I have very little idea of where we actually ran. I can only say that the route was 5 miles 1 furlong in length – which meant we probably ran rather further than that, perhaps 5.5 miles in total. The blue blobs on the map show the VERY approximate route we followed, there could have been more…or less. The run is somewhat shorter than a normal Cheshire Hash, the reason being that the pub had put a fine spread of food on for the runners – and everyone wanted to be back in good time to partake.

The distance was more than adequate for a midweek stretch through muddy fields & tracks, and muddy it was. All the runners were armed with torches, some used head torches, others preferred hand-held torches. Charging around muddy (and worse) fields looking for trail markers is fun, in the dark it’s hilarious!

Heaven knows what the gentlefolk of Wilmslow thought at the strange sight of 35 lights bounding around in the darkness. Occasionally a light would disappear momentarily – usually accompanied by cursing…then followed by laughter. Bogs are easily missed in the dark, even with a decent torch. Judging by the very muddy runners rolling up at the Rifleman at 9pm there must have been plenty of bogs, or we all fell into the same one!

I hadn’t been out with the Hash for a while, my knees being the main reason. I was a little surprised at the pace, I’m sure they didn’t run as fast the last time I was out with them. Later in the evening it was clear that the pace had indeed been faster, mainly because of a number of new and much younger members. It was a good run anyway, I just need to clean the crud of my shoes now.

No photographs of the runners, perhaps next time.

Thanks to Nick & Heather for laying an excellent trail, choosing a very good venue….and sorting the food. Top stuff!  

21st September, Via de la Plata, Day 3

To Galisteo

Another hot day meant another early start. At 6.30am (the one in the morning) I snuck out of the community centre, leaving the cyclists to get themselves organised for their day’s slog.

I didn’t bother with breakfast, preferring to get off as soon as possible and take advantage of the cool morning.

There were plenty of signs for much of the route, more often than not just a yellow arrow painted on a rock or whatever, but also more elaborate affairs:

Although these signs were good, I had been warned of misleading and missing waymarkings before Galisteo. A farmer objects to the right of way going through his land and does his level best to divert peregrinos via Rio Lobos….thereby adding another 5 – 6km to the day’s walk.

Some enterprising locals have capitalised on the diversion:

More evidence of Roman habitation became, er, more evident. Milarios – Roman Milestones appeared every now and then – 1000 paces apart. Sometimes their more modern counterparts are found planted next to the originals:

    The new and the old

Slowly but surely, the further north I walked, the landscape began to take on an greener hue. It was very gradual, A couple of days earlier the only greenery I saw was the salad on my plate. The tracks were still very hard and stony, playing merry-hell with the soles of my feet.

The sky was changing now, clouds were more frequent although it was still very hot.

I was really ready for coffee and a bite to eat but the couple of villages I passed through couldn’t offer any refreshment. It was a matter of finding a suitable spot to sit down and attack the now disintegrating Aldi fruity bars. The front porch of the (locked) Ermita Ntr. Senora de ‘La Argamasa’ fitted the bill perfectly. ‘Argamasa’ incidently, is Spanish for mortar (cement). Obviously when you think about it. Innit.

      

I won’t insult your intelligence by translating the text here, I’m sure you can all do that with ease. Ahem.

Anyway, half-an-hour of feet-uppedness certainly helped my feet and allowed me to cool off a little. Leaving the shade of my refuge wasn’t easy, when the sun was out the heat was uncomfortable at best – heaven knows what it would be like in the height of summer

The countryside was far more agricultural now, fields of all sorts of crops – sweetcorn, grapes, oranges, olives, chilli-peppers and more.

Hot stuff

On tarmac once again, route to Galisteo passed close to a solar panel site. These panels were quite clever, servo-driven so that when the sun was up and about, they were always perpendicular to the sun – thus they were able to capture the maximum possible level of solar energy from it’s source 93 million miles away. Spain seems to capitalise on it’s sunshine, these fields of solar panel were not uncommon – although I noticed that some weren’t steerable.

Solar panels on the road to Galisteo

By now the walled town of Galisteo was quite visible although it was still a couple of hours away:

Then it started to rain. Not much, but without doubt it was wet rain. As soon as the rain stopped the humidity soared making it extremely uncomfortable for around 30 minutes or so.

Anyway, onwards to Galisteo.

There was an albergue outside the walls, conveniently situated almost next-door to the Bar Los Imigrantes, purveyors of ice-cold beer and rather good cheese, tomato and bacon butties. Just what the doctor ordered.

Bar Los Imigrantes

My lack of good Spanish caused some panic. The bar staff had me understand that the albergue was closed and there wasn’t any alternative accommodation available. I had got it completely wrong – there was plenty of space in the albergue, much to the relief of me and Nico who had just arrived in town – very hot and pretty tired.

The albergue

I spent much of the late afternoon and early evening exploring the town. The walls were quite accessible and provided excellent views of the town and surrounding countryside.

Views of the town, plus the servo-operated church bell. Technology eh?

The next day’s target was Arco de Caparra, going via Carcaboso. The route incolved 10km of busy tarmac so the executive decision was taken to avoid this first part of the walk by using the bus or taxi. Bus transport is minimal in these out of the way places so the choice was to either phone for a taxi or walk. In my best Spanish I phoned the local taxi man. He had no English, I had even less Spanish. The phone call left me convinced the man couldn’t understand me and the taxi I tried to order for the 7am following morning just wasn’t going to arrive.

I slept heavily that night, waking up at 6.50am, just in time to hear the taxi man roll up. Perhaps my Spanish isn’t quite so unintelligible after all.

Total distance for the day: around 24km

20th September, Via de la Plata, Day 2

To Grimaldo

After the blisteringly hot day from Caceres to Embalse de Alcantara yesterday it was vital to be up and away early. Yesterday’s walk had been made more difficult because of footpath diversions, thus lengthening the already long route to 37km, and lack of food en-route. Oh, and a diminishing supply of water.

Leaving the albergue at around 6.30am was just about right, the air was cool enough to be able to get a move on and the burning sun hadn’t made it’s appearance….yet.

Leaving the albergue meant climbing a very steep and stony track for 250m, not nice first thing in the morning when your legs haven’t woken up!

Tarmac ensued. This was fine in that it helped speed progress – but it was a bit boring. Road bridges made crossing the wide Rio Tajo a quick and clean affair. The views improved as the sun (and temperature) rose. Approaching Canaveral and walking close to a huge reservoir, a ruined bridge, the Puente Mantible, came into view. I was taken aback to realise that the bridge had been built in Roman times, and although in ruins, was in quite remarkable condition.

Puente Mantible

The early departure from Embalse de Alcantara resulted in me missing the warden – I needed him to stamp my Credencial, a sort of Camino passport. Getting regular stamps in the Credencial proves to albergues en-route that you’re a bona-fide peregrino and are therefore entitled to the appropriate privileges.

To get round the problem I called into Canaveral ayuntamiento (town hall). A very smiley young lady directed me up to the council chamber where a rather official looking official grunted something foreign and stamped my Credencial with his sello (that’s foreign for ‘stamp’).

These ayuntamientos are often quite ornate, even this relatively plain building put our bland town halls to shame.

 

 

Canaveral Ayuntamiento

I was hoping for breakfast in Canaveral, a bit of a mooch around the town resulted in finding a small bar where coffee & breakfast were obtained for €2. Beer & wine were also available for those who felt the need – not me!

The Canaveral water tap for peregrinos

Leaving the town, the Camino passes Ermita Sancristobal, one of the many small churches that are found on the outskirts of towns on the route. I was hoping to be able to have a look inside some of these churches but there were all locked.

Ermita Sancristobal

I had been advised of a diversion from the main route, it was duff information that had me wandering around dead-end lanes. By now it was really hot and although I had plenty of water, it was tough going. Once again I found my day extended, probably by 5km. I was saved by my Garmin SatNav, loaded with European road maps, it successfully put me back on track after much faffing about.

A long, hot stretch of tarmac brought me to the village of Grimaldo, Pop: not many, Bars: two (one of which seemed closed), albergues: one….which was temporarily closed because of the ‘infestación’. Even with my limited understanding of the language I realised that I didn’t really want to sleep in a place with an infestación. I was to later discover that the place was suffering from a bad dose of bed bugs. Lovely.

The locked door of the brewery sponsored albergue. 648km to go.

The long walk in had me dreaming of egg & chips and other deliciously unhealthy dishes. Not much chance in Spain, eh? I entered the bar that was full of peregrinos, all eating and drinking most unhealthily – just what I needed. I ordered a jug of water, a beer, and a bowl of soup (selected by pointing at one of my fellow walker’s dinner). This was all quite wonderful – it was even more wonderful when, when I had cleared my plate, a plate of egg & chips appeared! Oh, and a bottle of red. I hadn’t said a word to anyone – the lady who was cook, barmaid, cleaner, waitress etc must have thought I looked in a bad way and needed extra food…brilliant!

 The wonderful ladies of Grimaldo

At 5pm the infestación man arrived, suited and masked to withstand a nuclear attack. I don’t know what he was using to zap the little blighters but it was so strong that the bar’s customers sitting outside had to move around 50 metres up the road – it was powerful stuff. After that I was quite pleased that my night wasn’t going to be spent inside the albergue. I’d have woken up dead.

This just left the little problem of finding somewhere to sleep for the night. The ladies of Grimaldo had a solution, not ideal, but a solution. The community centre floor (tiled, and VERY hard) was made available for those who needed it. A couple of cyclists rolled up quite late on, perhaps 10pm. They had been covering around 80 – 100km a day, not easy in such high temperatures.

I called back into the bar for a beer before bed. The cook / barmaid / waitress etc sat me down in front of an excellent meal of tuna salad followed by a white fish dish. This place was unbelievable! My bill for the entire stay at Grimaldo was around 20€, the sort of price that you would only dream of in UK.

It wasn’t a comfortable night as I didn’t have a sleeping mat, I ended up sleeping in my silk liner on a mattress of my sleeping bag containing my clothing….but at least it was a place to sleep.

Total distance for the day: around 25km.

Saturday 6th October, Fun in the Peak District

The first part of a busy day

If you’ve been paying attention you should remember that today was the day when I was going running with the Cheshire Tally-Ho! Hare & Hounds.

The venue was the Rose & Crown (Robinson’s), a fine pub tucked away in the hills close to Wildboarclough.

The Rose & Crown, Allgreave, with Steve – one of the trail-layers

I was rather worried about my lack of fitness and also the state of my dodgy knees. I had done some walking but very little running so far this year. With this in mind I determined to jog and walk the route, I was confident that I’d be able to get round if I took it easy.

I left the pub in the company of Ding Dong Bell, Whitworth, Fast Shipley, and Club President Park. I’ve run from this venue before and each time the route has headed north and dropped down to a muddy and very wet Clough Brook. Hopes of keeping clean and dry were dashed within a very short time, Clough Brook was as bad as ever. Oh well. 

In theory the club operates a ‘pack’ system of running: the pack sticks together for all but the last 2 miles of the run – this is the responsibility of the whip.

President Park splodging up towards Shutlingsloe

True to form, within a couple of miles of the start of the run our pack split into 3 groups: Whitworth & Park leading, me in the middle, with Ding Dong Bell and Fast Shipley bringing up the rear. I was quite happy with this, I didn’t want to hold anyone back because of my slow pace.

Sawdust Trail

Trundling off on my own I had to concentrate on following the sawdust trail, there isn’t another pair of eyes to look for you – miss a lump of trail and you could easily get quite lost. Fortunately the day was clear and the trail was well laid, I stayed on trail for the entire route.

Entering Macclesfield Forest

The Leathers Smithy pub on t’other side of Ridgegate Reservoir

Some stream crossings are cleaner than others….

Some of our route coincided with the Gritstone Trail

 

Coos in Derbyshire?

The heavy rainfall of the last few months had left the Peak District a little, er, soggy. Running with Tally-Ho! is never a clean experience, but today’s trail was muddier than most.

Running with Tally-Ho! can be a messy business

Sting in the tail, the last 400 metres may have been on tarmac but it wasn’t flat

A water-trough on the final run in presented at the right time to clean muddy feet

I arrived back at the pub at around 3.30pm feeling remarkably good. My knees didn’t ache and I certainly wasn’t tired. I’d been out around 2 1/2 hours, certainly not the fastest time of the day for a 9.6 mile run, but I was more than pleased. Just a couple of days ago I was doubting if I could run even half of the route.

Geoff, Mark, and Steve, just back from their run

The pub’s facilities were good: a hot shower and a place to change. Dinner was more than adequate: home made meat & potato pie with peas, followed by apple strudel for afters.

Post-run shoes

The day’s route 

Around 20 runners were out today, not a bad turn-out for a small club. A good route with plenty of variety, and a decent pub at the end of it.

The second part of a busy day – another ceilidh

Freaks in the Peaks are a group of dancers whose interest in dance is predominantly in Border Morris but also encompasses all manner of other traditions and styles: British, European – no holds barred. Every few months the group meet of for a weekend of dancing and fun. These gatherings are often held in the Peak District.

This weekend was the Youlgrave meet. The group descended on the village hall, using it as a base for the whole weekend, sleeping in it, cooking and eating their meals there, rehearsing their dances – and generally socialising.

I left Allgreave and drove over to Youlgrave in the early evening, the sunset was staggering:

Saturday night sees a communal meal followed by music and dancing. This is where I came in.

I arrived just in time to join the group for their evening meal. Although I had eaten at Tally-Ho! earlier, I just had a very light snack – it would have been rude not to!

After the tables were cleared, the dancing began. The band consisted of any musicians who wanted to play. Tonight’s band had me on melodeon, plus others playing melodeons, a fiddler, a piano, banjo, accordions…along with others too.

Freaks at dance

It was around 11pm when I left for home. I would have preferred to stay over but I needed to get back.  It was 1am when I got to bed….a bit pooped! I was planning to return to Youlgrave the following morning but family responsibilities got in the way. Oh well, next time!