Tag: French Way

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Day 26, Palas dei Rei to Arzua, Spain Oct 5, 2008

17 miles. 1,350 ft. ascent, 1,300 ft. descent. 8:30 am to 2 pm

Clear blue skies, crisp and breezy. Perfect for walking in my long-sleeve shirt.
Now in the Galacia region, where James the Apostle of Jesus, preached the Gospel for 30 years. This is documented evidence. After 30 years he went back to visit Rome, where they remembered him and beheaded him. Tale is his bones washed on the Spanish coast at Muxia, and are now at the cathedral in Santiago. It’s a longer story than this, of course.
Acorns fall about me in the breeze.
Yellow leaves herald the beginning of fall.
Blossoms of purple heather with yellow gorse blooms amongst them, much like England and Ireland.
Etched in concrete or an outdoor, common laundry structure for the village hand washing is the date 1987. A small stream is directed through it.
Yellow arrows guide pilgrims to Santiago.  They are every 20 to 50 feet, perhaps on a fence, the road, a rock, a telephone pole. It is great entertainment looking for them, hoping I did not miss one.  But I do occasionally and a local person shouts to me and waves me in the other direction. I am sure I provide great entertainment for them.
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Day 23, Las Herrerias to Triacastle, Spain. Oct. 1

16 miles, 1,300 feet ascent and descent. 7:30 am to 3:30 pm

Begin with a steep grade along a stream.
Emerald green fields, trees along the stream. Cows taken out to graze for the day by an older man or woman. 
Another day of walking with Roberto. “Good companions make short miles.”
His girlfriend is still calling to complain about the cold weather in Italy, where she has moved to study.  But his phone is going on the blink. Hopefully, soon it will quit working altogether.
Over the pass in a mist. Coffee break in an ancient village. Order something on the menu and it turns out to be a wonderful egg sandwich. Two thick slabs of brown bread with scrambled eggs, cooked solid, in the middle. It is delicious, but I can only eat half and take the other half for a snack later.
Stone houses with slate roofs.
Down into an alpine valley with chestnut woods.
Through farmyards guarded by German Shepard dogs. The dogs are not tied and pay no attention to us.
Recognize many pilgrims and meet new ones. Conversations start out the same, Where are you from? When and where did you start? Then when we know each other better, Why are you walking hundreds of miles to Santiago, Spain? 
I will walk 555 miles before I am done. I enjoy walking and like to experience a country and the culture on my two feet.
Hostal is 3 Euros, in a new facility along the stream. The priest runs it and has a special mass to pray for pilgrims at 7 pm, which I attend. I am continually surprised at how touching these are. 
Dinner at a small cafe is 8 Euros for salad, french fries, pork, flan for dessert and a beaker of local wine.  
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Day 22, Cacabelos to Los Herrerias, Sept 30, 2008

17 miles, 1, 500 ft. ascent, 8 am to 3 pm

Gorgeous fall day with blue skies. Leaves are starting to turn to yellows and reds.
Climbing into the Sierra de Ancares mountains.
Women in peasant garb in trucks going out to pick grapes, wearing peasant scarves and dresses.
In the mountains a woman in a traditional black dress, scarf, tanned and weathered face herding big blonde milk cows with bells around their necks. Nice sounds.
Coffee break at 10 am in Villafranca over looking a river with an arched Roman bridge, castle, churches and medieval village. Sit in the sun with my new walking companion, a young Spaniard named Roberto. He walks fast also and we enjoy the day visiting about life, his girlfriend he is trying to forget. But she calls him on his cell phone several times to complain about her new life as a student in Italy. He looks totally miserable. Some young women, beautiful pilgrims, try to engage him in conversation at coffee and he is only polite to them. 
Instead of choosing the route along the bottom of the valley, we go up into the mountain and descend about six miles. Beautiful chestnut forests on top, with some great views. An elderly woman herding her milk cows.
Stay in the tiny village of Las Herrerias. Hostel is 5 Euros. There are only 5 Pilgrims here but one man snores outrageously loud. Fortunately, he went to sleep in another room. Dinner of a mixed salad, three delicious fried fish, probably sardines, cheesecake and wine for 7.5 Euros.
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Day 21, El Acebo to Cacabelos, Spain, Sept. 29


18 miles, 1,300 ft. descent, 8:15 am to 5 pm  I buy NEW BOOTS.

The view down the mountain into Ponferrada from the Leon mountains is spectacular.
It feels schizophrenic to walk from the “time stood still” village yesterday into a town with two nuclear power plant stacks today, only 11 miles away.
Walking down into Ponferrada, an medieval town with a large cobblestone shopping area, I find a sport shop.  But their boots feel narrow and the toe box seem small.  Yesterday an Australian couple recommended Keen boots and sandals, which had solved their foot problems. While perched on a stone water trough for animals in the mountains, I had been dipping my feet in the icy water while enjoying the sunshine. And getting a little siesta as other pilgrims walked by in amusement. They stopped to rest and chat about life. Which is one thing I love on this trip.
Coming into Ponferrada, I take a detour route to visit a Roman spring. It is still encased in the Roman’s quarried stone and kept as a historical site. Plus I avoid an area of ugly suburban sprawl, instead entering through vineyards and older, charming homes with vegetable gardens and a few horses.
Surprising me as I come around a corner in Ponferrada, is a spectacular castle of the Knights of the Templar.  After the crusades to Jerusalem were over, they came here to guard the Pilgrim Way of St. James and protect the pilgrims from bandits and landowners who tried to make they pay to cross their lands. It looks like a movie set with a moat, flags flying and turrets.
In the pedestrian shopping area window shop, passing stores of the latest fashion, and catching my reflection of a hiker with a pack and shade hat in the window. Fashion is the farthest thing from my mind. I am after new boots.  Finally there is a shoe shop of cheap shoes and in the back are cheap hiking boots. They have lots of flex in the sole, a high top and I get the size 10 for only 31 Euros. The women helping me speak no English and my little Spanish is not helpful, but it works. My size 8 boots, with the heel now worn down, go in their garbage. 
Leaving town through the modern suburb on the street El Liberty with a plaza named Marteo Luthero King Jr. reminds me America’s struggles for freedom and justice affects the whole world. Stop for a siesta on a park bench beside a cemetery. Pass through many vineyards and popular groves. Flat walking on shaded sidewalks through sleepy villages and flat countryside.
Nine miles in my boots and I feel much, much better.
All locals give or return a greeting of Hola or Beunos Dias. Heads tip up, instead of down, in greeting. 
Stay at an old farm, now a very nice touristy accommodation for conventions, but I am charmed, tired and willing to pay to stay. The farm implements, from threshers to spinning wheels are displayed. Plus I get to see how the farm houses were set up. Big wooden and stone walls encircle a barnyard,  gardens and outside living area.  Plus they restored the traditional round stone dwelling with thatched roof. Food is local and hardy. Empanada of pie dough filled with potato and ham, served with local wine when checking in and again at dinner. More boiled potatoes for dinner, a salad and thick pork steaks and flan for dessert. Visit with two German pilgrims at dinner. They just met and are from adjoining villages.  While the room is very nice, I don’t sleep better than in a dormitory and miss the companionship.
 
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Day 19, Hospital de Orbigo to Murias, Spain, Sept 27


12 miles, 600 feet ascent. 7:15 to 1:30 pm

My feet are killing me today. I am battling large blisters, draining them with a needle every night and putting blister pads on them.

Today is my day! In spite of my feet, I am joyous.
At 10 am there are church bells in the distance.
“Good speed is your speed.” is painted on a sign, surely an encouragement to pilgrims.

This morning I dwaddled over my tea in the kitchen, as it was still dark. Wilson quickly ate his breakfast, was ready to go and asked for my email address so we can stay in touch. He was thinking would not see me again. He left.

I took my, but it was pretty dark at 7:30 am, so I took the alternate and more direct trail along the road instead of wending through the woods.

Gorgeous sunrise over the rolling green countryside.
Passed a huge barn guarded by three barking black labradors while at least three German Shepards lazed in the sun. I was not even close to the barn, but the labradors were doing a great job this early.
By 9:30 am I stopped for coffee with milk and sugar at a small village.  Visited with two German women doing parts of the El Camino a second time.  Who should come in but my Brazlian friend, Wilson.  He stared at me and said TYLER, HOW did you get here?  After a few minutes he figured out I did not use the magic carpet as claimed, but took the shorter route along the highway.  We laughed and laughed.  Then I finished my coffee and left, somehow without seeing him or saying goodbye. Must have both been in the restroom.
Two hours later I am perched at top the steps to a cross over looking the valley and city of Astorga.  Airing my barefeet in the sunshine, enjoying the view when here come the two German women from the cafe.  They laugh as Wilson had seen them on the trail and asked where I was.  They told him she is up ahead, sticking out her tongue at you and saying nana-nana-boo-boo.
And who comes down the trail but Wilson, calling out Tyler, WHAT are you doing? WHY are you still ahead of me.  We laugh again. He goes on and I pull on my boots and head down into Astorga. 
This is a beautiful medieval town once surrounded by a wall, which  has a walk way and I stop for a snack, overlooking the country.  Walk down cobblestone streets to a palace and the cathedral. Large bus loads of tourists gather with guides.  In the cafe overlooking the palace, I use the restroom and order meatballs for lunch. What a beautiful town but I am not a tourist and my feet ache and I am not up for looking inside the buildings, so I pick up a chocolate bar with almonds for the road.
Just outside of town there is a tiny chapel where pilgrims have stopped, some to avoid the tourists at the cathedral, for a rest or holy moment.  Who is there but Wilson.  We laugh at meeting each other again and walk and talk for about an hour.
Stopping at a hacienda-type hostel, we go in for a soda, I got a Coke, and visit.  It is run by a Brazilian, they serve a Brazilian dinner and it is super clean and charming with a yard in the back for hanging laundry, a washboard as part of the sink and great big clean showers are restrooms.  The dormitory is also huge.  I stay and Wilson goes on. He refuses to say goodbye as he is sure we will meet again.
A French Pilgrim visits with me about my sore feet. He recommends boots two sizes larger and wiping out the salt sweat from the boots immediately after removing them.  In two days I will pass through a town large enough to have boots. It’s the first I have heard about wiping out boots, but it might be a good idea.
Dinner was lentils, rice and deviled eggs and no dessert. It was very plain with no spices. Wilson later told me this is very authentic Brazilian cooking.  It was good and filling. Dined with a young Spanish married couple bicycling the route.  He had good English and said it is not fun. They cycled 75 kilometers today and did 150 yesterday. Some roads are busy with traffic, off the walker’s route.  Some are cobblestone they share with us walkers and I can see their head bobbing as they tackle the stones.  He says it is crazy. It is cold when they go out in the morning, and they are not allowed into the hostels until 8 pm, giving all those walking first chance to get a bed. Plus bicyclists do not always give walkers warning on the trails and we have to get out of their way quickly as they speed by us. I was smugly satisfied to hear it was as miserable as it looked.
Hostel 7 Euros, dinner 9 Euros.
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Day 15, Calzadillo to Sahagun, Spain

13 miles, fairly flat terrain. 7:30 to 11:30 am.

Highlights of the day:
*Hovering kestrel hawk over the harvested grain field.
*Blue sky, light breeze, cool. Delightful path through open country.
*Caffe con latte with sugar and crossiant mid-morning. Things I NEVER have at home. Coffee upsets my stomach, sugar is bad and a crossiant is way too bad.
*Medieval leper hospital has picnic tables on the lawn, a good resting place for a picnic lunch. A Roman built bridge takes us to the ancient hospital,  now closed.
Hostal in Sahagun is a 16th century chapel, for 4 Euros. Dinner across the street for 10 Euros, with a Spanish pilgrim.
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Day 13, Castrojeruz to Formista, Spain, Sept. 21, 2008






15 miles, 400 ft. ascent and descent.

Started out just before it got light. Left the village on a dirt road between two barns, going into the countryside. A Scotsman, Robert, joined me at we headed out of town. He was chatty and good walking company for a few days. Not as fast as Peter was yesterday, but I don’t need to walk that fast every day.
The road headed up a ridge and I could see several pilgrims going up, about 400 feet, through the farm lands of harvested grain. Several fields had big round bales of straw, waiting to be picked up and hauled away to storage. It was getting lighter every step.
Upon reaching the top of the ridge, the sun began coming over the eastern horizon, beyond the hill with the castle ruins.  Several of us pilgrims had reached this spot to watch the spectacle of the sunrise.  Bright red and yellow sun rays spilled out from beyond the distant mountain range to coat the castle ruins, then illuminate the valley.  When it was all light, I finally turned to back to the trail, now downhill.
Stopped for mid-morning coffee and a stroll through a tiny village. There were many round dove lofts, or dove cottages, falling into ruin.  Along the stream was a huge shelter with red Spanish tile roof, open sides with arches and all painted white.  Upon investigation, it contained a several cement wash boards, with a stream running through it. This is where community happened!  Later I saw a plainer wash house version in cement dated 1987 etched across the top. Oh, perhaps that is why the world regarded Spain as backward for so many years.
Strangely enough, there was helicopter over head. When I lived in Billings, Montana, that always meant a rescue, as the helicopter picked up an injured person and flew them to the hospital.  A few days later we learned from a pilgrim, who happened to be a nurse, that as she got to the top of the ridge, took in the view of the castle and country, then turned to go another pilgrim, a middle-age man who stopped to rest, fell down dead.  She tried to revive him, but could not.  That helicopter was for him. It was very sad.
Nearing Formista, the walk is along a canal and poplars line the path. Stopped for a beer at lunch and then walked more. 
Every day has beautiful weather, chilly in the morning, but warming by about 9 am. No rain, yet. I love walking every day an eat everything for dinner, which is usually three courses. Lots of potatoes are on the menu and I get the french fries and flan for dessert. The calorie burn is so great!
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Day 12, Tardajos to Castrojeriz, Spain



18 miles, 750 feet of ascent. 7:15 am to 2:30 pm.

Spent the day walking and talking with Peter, who started walking from his home in Nuremburg, Germany on July 2. He has walked across part of Germany, all across Switzerland and France. He is a fast walker and we had lots of fun talking all day.  “Good companions make short miles.”  In his late 30’s he is a contract employee of a software firm and is between contracts, so he has this time. His wife, Amy, is at home working.
We part at 2 pm, over a beer. Peter is walking six more miles, but I have had enough for today.
Get checked in, wash my clothes, take a siesta and stroll up to the castle ruins on the hill overlooking the town. The restaurant has many old farm implements on display.
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Walk With Me, Tyler Burgess’s Itinerary 2008


Here is my plan
Take train to Seattle August 19, 2008. Visit children and grandchildren.
Friday, August 22, Fly from Seattle (leave 10:55 pm) to London (arrive 5:30 pm), with Vicki, my companion and client for the England walk on Hadrian’s Wall Path.

Hike Hadrian’s Wall Path, 84 miles
August 24. Train from London to Newcastle Upon Tyne.
August 25. Day in Newcastle to visit the Museum of Antiquities to see artifacts and history of Roman Emperor’s Wall, built to keep out the barbarians to the north.
August 26. Walk Newcastle to Heddon, 15 urban miles through Newcastle
August 27. Walk Heddon to St. Oswald, 12 miles into the rolling countryside.

August 28. From St. Oswald to Once Brewed, 15 miles, plus an hour to walk into Haltwhistle.
August 29. Rest in Haltwhistle, a market town smack in the middle of Britian.
August 30. An hour walk back to Once Brewed, then 11 miles to Gilsland.
August 31. Walk 7 miles to Walton.
September 1. Walk to Carlisle, 11 miles.
September 2. Carlisle to Bowness On Solway, 15 flat miles to the Irish Sea.

September 3. Train to London.
September 4-7 Visit London. High Tea at the Ritz on 9/4.
September 8. Vicki flies back to Eugene. I fly to Barritz, France.

Solo 500-mile hike the Pilgrim’s Path Way of St. James on the French Way
500 miles from the French border to Santiago, Spain. I am taking ultra-light camping gear, and carrying all my stuff in a day pack.
September 8. I fly to Barritz, France. Train ride one hour to St. Jean Pied de Pont.
September 9. Start hiking to Santiago, about 15 mile per day for 35 days.
October 14, Fly from Santiago, Spain to London, England.
October 15. Fly from London to Seattle.
October 19. Train from Seattle to Eugene, arriving at 1:55 pm in Eugene.

I do hope to update you along the trail where there are cafes and libraries with Internet access.