O'Cebreiro
What a day. Seemed like 3 packed into one. We awoke at 5:30 in an
attempt to get out by 6:15am. Hah, as usual. After a bit of breakie
(baby yogurt) we set out at 6:31am. It was dark, but we didn't need
our headlamps. We started climbing. We had 5K to get to the top and it was steep. Wicked steep. Breathing heavy and sweating steep, as we slowly inched our way up over centuries old stones and seconds old manure.
It was more of a cart path than a road. The fields on either side were so steep that all I could think of was the poor creature that had to clear it with a scythe 40 years ago. There were very few yellow arrows to be found, even if you could see them. The
What a day. Seemed like 3 packed into one. We awoke at 5:30 in an
attempt to get out by 6:15am. Hah, as usual. After a bit of breakie
(baby yogurt) we set out at 6:31am. It was dark, but we didn't need
our headlamps. We started climbing. We had 5K to get to the top and it was steep. Wicked steep. Breathing heavy and sweating steep, as we slowly inched our way up over centuries old stones and seconds old manure.
It was more of a cart path than a road. The fields on either side were so steep that all I could think of was the poor creature that had to clear it with a scythe 40 years ago. There were very few yellow arrows to be found, even if you could see them. Theroad was so worn and there were so many boot prints from the day before, that there was little doubt that we were on the right path. As the skies slowly brightened we could make out a few figures ahead of us up on the hillside. We were going there?!!!
Dawn broke like a Spielberg movie. Grandiose and awe-inspiring. With
each pause and turn came a pant and sigh. It was almost too beautiful
to believe. This misty, rainy province of Spain woke to crystal clear
skies, a moon and magnificent valleys as far as one could see. The
view was only disturbed by the occasional cowbells. If that can be
called disturbing.
We made it to the top, 1350 meters, to be greeted by an expanse of cloud
filled fjords of the valleys to the north. After suitable gasps, we
headed for the bar for our cafe con leche and were then treated to a
live broadcast from Pamplona of the running of the bulls! As
Americans we may see a wire photo in the newspaper or a quick clip on
the evening news, but to see the full 4 minutes live from multiple
cameras was something else. To run it (Scott Paton) simply insane!!
I'm now completely convinced that it is Spain's version of stock car
racing; everyone's just waiting for the disaster. Except with the
bulls- it comes a lot faster!
Our descent was supposed to start immediately but Nancy read the map
wrong. We had a small down and two more "ups" to go. By 11:30am we are climbing along an unshaded, narrow and rocky path. The last "up". I am a little ahead of Mary, but several hundred meters high above her as the path is now resembling something of a ladder! I look down at her and see, coming up behind her, a posse of riders on horseback. Oh great. The last thing I want is to be on this tightrope of trail with 8 horses trying to squeeze by me. I look up. Through the drops of sweat now cascading down from my brow and into my eyes, I see at the top the blurry, but unmistakable red canvas of a cafe umbrella. The Umbrella of Hope, as it came to be known afterwards. I now scramble up to it, trying to keep ahead of the horses.
Dawn broke like a Spielberg movie. Grandiose and awe-inspiring. With
each pause and turn came a pant and sigh. It was almost too beautiful
to believe. This misty, rainy province of Spain woke to crystal clearskies, a moon and magnificent valleys as far as one could see. The
view was only disturbed by the occasional cowbells. If that can be
called disturbing.
We made it to the top, 1350 meters, to be greeted by an expanse of cloudfilled fjords of the valleys to the north. After suitable gasps, we
headed for the bar for our cafe con leche and were then treated to a
live broadcast from Pamplona of the running of the bulls! AsAmericans we may see a wire photo in the newspaper or a quick clip on
the evening news, but to see the full 4 minutes live from multiple
cameras was something else. To run it (Scott Paton) simply insane!!
I'm now completely convinced that it is Spain's version of stock car
racing; everyone's just waiting for the disaster. Except with the
bulls- it comes a lot faster!
Our descent was supposed to start immediately but Nancy read the map
wrong. We had a small down and two more "ups" to go. By 11:30am we are climbing along an unshaded, narrow and rocky path. The last "up". I am a little ahead of Mary, but several hundred meters high above her as the path is now resembling something of a ladder! I look down at her and see, coming up behind her, a posse of riders on horseback. Oh great. The last thing I want is to be on this tightrope of trail with 8 horses trying to squeeze by me. I look up. Through the drops of sweat now cascading down from my brow and into my eyes, I see at the top the blurry, but unmistakable red canvas of a cafe umbrella. The Umbrella of Hope, as it came to be known afterwards. I now scramble up to it, trying to keep ahead of the horses.
I make it. Huffing, puffing, and dripping, I climb up onto level land, just before the first horse reaches me. The guide is riding this horse, but behind him are seven more riders, all apparently family members judging by the looks of them. Their faces are all familial, but their bodies are too: they are all obese. Moobs and bellies and double chins. I am feeling overwhelming pity for the horses now. That climb was hard enough for me, but I wasn't carrying Two Ton Tomas on my back.
My thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a "Hello Nancy!" Behind me, finishing up a bite to eat and readying themselves to get back on the trail are Steve, Lynn and Kath. Lynn grew up with Kath in Australia, but now lives in New Zealand with her husband, Steve. They're in their 60's I guess. They are wonderfully friendly, have a great sense of humour and always a sunny disposition -despite the heat and the terrain. Its always cheering to see their smiles on the Camino. We barely have time to chat when Mary creeps up and over the lip of the trail. She is weak and says so. The Australians suggested she needed salt. I reached into my pack and gave her some peanuts. But it doesn't occur to me to stop for lunch. We continue on with the Aussie/Kiwis. 100 yards later, she says she needs to stop a bit; I gave her a pediatric electrolyte strip. 100 more yards she stops in the "shade" of a hedgerow and says she feels dizzy. Suddenly it occurs to Nazi Nancy that maybe she needs.... food?!!! She's climbed 8 miles on a baby yogurt and half a croissant! I start to lose it laughing. Mary has already stated that she's convinced I'm using her as a market research study for a future fat farm that I secretly want to start: Camp Gordita. A simple concept really, I'll be dragging clients over the Camino, denying them food and promising kilos of weight loss. She asks why I didn't sign up all those horseback riders as clients. Mary is so weak that she, laughing, starts to lose control of her bladder! We are doubled over on the side of the path drooling, sweating and praying that we won't be washing two sets of pants tonight. Or two sets of panties. We stop at the next village. We get her some food. She is happy, very happy. And funny enough, no longer dizzy.
My thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a "Hello Nancy!" Behind me, finishing up a bite to eat and readying themselves to get back on the trail are Steve, Lynn and Kath. Lynn grew up with Kath in Australia, but now lives in New Zealand with her husband, Steve. They're in their 60's I guess. They are wonderfully friendly, have a great sense of humour and always a sunny disposition -despite the heat and the terrain. Its always cheering to see their smiles on the Camino. We barely have time to chat when Mary creeps up and over the lip of the trail. She is weak and says so. The Australians suggested she needed salt. I reached into my pack and gave her some peanuts. But it doesn't occur to me to stop for lunch. We continue on with the Aussie/Kiwis. 100 yards later, she says she needs to stop a bit; I gave her a pediatric electrolyte strip. 100 more yards she stops in the "shade" of a hedgerow and says she feels dizzy. Suddenly it occurs to Nazi Nancy that maybe she needs.... food?!!! She's climbed 8 miles on a baby yogurt and half a croissant! I start to lose it laughing. Mary has already stated that she's convinced I'm using her as a market research study for a future fat farm that I secretly want to start: Camp Gordita. A simple concept really, I'll be dragging clients over the Camino, denying them food and promising kilos of weight loss. She asks why I didn't sign up all those horseback riders as clients. Mary is so weak that she, laughing, starts to lose control of her bladder! We are doubled over on the side of the path drooling, sweating and praying that we won't be washing two sets of pants tonight. Or two sets of panties. We stop at the next village. We get her some food. She is happy, very happy. And funny enough, no longer dizzy.
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