A bit crook yesterday, but now I'm right as rain
Up at sparrow's fart, and on the road again.
Actually, we left before dawn, unwilling to wait for breakfast at a restaurant that opened at eight o'clock. We had a long day before us. Jean-Marc led us into the night, finding the way with his headlamp. I sang a few lines of the old hymn.
Lead, kindly Light, amid th'encircling gloom;
Lead thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home;
Lead thou me on!
After six kilometres, just as dawn was breaking on the little village of Vilabade, beside the church was a travelling trailer providing breakfast. And not a skimpy snack, either. Strong hot coffee and delicious toast for €3.00.
There is no doubt that the Camino contributes to the Spanish economy. Certainly, on the Camino Frances, dying villages have been revived, for hundred of pilgrims pass through them every day. Here was an entrepreneur finding his niche, pilgrims setting out early and anxious for breakfast.
Just out of the village, another enterprising fellow had made good use of a pair of old cart wheels. That's Preben sitting on the bench.
One more stop, two kilometres on, at Castroverde for a second coffee in warmer surroundings, and on to Lugo, more than 20 kms without a break.
What a difference a day makes!
Twenty-four little hours
It was a glorious day, quite springlike. Even the birds seemed to think so, for they were chirping more than usual. Yesterday I trudged in gloom. Today I strode in joy.
I passed the time of day with cows and dogs, for they seemed friendlier today, and chooks.
The chook is a revered Australian bird, giving us our daily egg, and later in the week, our Sunday roast. In my time, it was common to have a few chooks in the back yard. The chook has given rise to such expressions as, for an incompetent, "He couldn't run a chook raffle" and, for someone who can't sit still, "She is running around like a chook with its head cut off"
O Chook, indeed it pleaseth me
To see thee scratch about in glee.
It's such a pleasant sight to see
A creature happy just like thee.
And when, alas, thy day is done,
It's time about the yard to run,
Thy head behind thee in the sun
No more to cluck in chookish fun.
But even when the end is nigh
Know that thy spirit will not die,
But live with others up on high
In that great Chookhouse in the Sky.
Chestnuts were everywhere today, puffed up in their spiny shells as big as tennis balls. I wonder if one can do anything other than roast them. Chestnut soup? Chestnut salad?
But I have to admit that as the day passed into afternoon, and none of the bars was open, and I had walked more than 20 kms without a break, that my joy was modified a little. Even as we approached the large city of Lugo, where I expected to pass through satellite towns, there was no bar.
Lugo is a large city, with an large old quarter, reminiscent of Santiago, and the world's longest surviving Roman walls. We strolled around them, of course, and visited the cathedral with its mixture of architectural styles and incredibly ornate statutory, which it would take a lifetime to view and understand. One object I hadn't seen before was this rolling Juggernaut, doubtless hauled out on religious processions. How many thousands of people devoted their lives to this cathedral and every thing in it!