Camino Invierno: 1. Ponferrada to Borrenes. 18 kms.

 

Old implements put to good use

I took the road less travelled by (Frost)

I left Ponferrada by the way I came in, but this time I crossed the railway line by a zigzag of a foot bridge, then over the river by a lovely stone bridge, and then west along the river.

Such peace! Such calm! Not the constant click clack of the poles of the pilgrim behind or the shout of the cyclist to get out of the way, but the crowing of the rooster and the chirping of the birds celebrating the dawn. I walk under a majestic weeping willow, my favourite tree, I think, that reminds me of happy days in a beer garden.

Now the pavement ends, and I continue on a stony road, and leave the river as the road climbs gently up and around the hill. And then a not-so-gentle climb until I look behind, and Ponferrada is laid out before me, an ugly mass of apartment buildings, except for the cathedral which pokes its head above them.

(A Gentle Climb is one where you can still walk reasonably normally. A Not-So-Gentle Climb is one where you have to push yourself up with your poles. A Bugger of a Climb is one where you count your steps in twenties, and rest every hundred steps.)

Sweeping ahead of me is a long range of mountains, which I will surely have to cross.

The way is quite well marked, every so often by a concrete pillar with the shell, and the yellow arrow, not on every tree or wall perhaps, like the Camino Francés in places, but enough to get by.

Six kilometres on, down through the deepest canopied tunnel I have ever passed through, across a stone bridge over the Rio Oza to the village of Toral de Merayo. I enter a bar for a coffee where on the screen is not the typical Spanish talk or game show, but a kids’ cartoon to the tune of American Pie.

Why do the Spanish shout in every bar, even in a quiet village in the morning? But then I notice the beers on the bar and the shots of grappa.

Out of the village and up a stony track behind an old man, pushing his wife on a wheelchair, and then I take off to the right across a field and through an orchard. I continue to climb, through a vineyard and over a hill. I couldn’t refrain from stealing the odd grape, but then I remembered what I had seen on the Camino some years ago.

One day a fog came down upon the vine

And caught the budding insects in their prime.

While we, quite unaware, consume our wine

And stunted trees bear witness to the crime.

I come down to the village of Villalibre de la Jurisdicció (interesting name) and walk along the road for a bit, helping myself to some delicious figs, but then realize that they too may be sprayed, and on to Prianza del Bierzo where I take my rest on a bench. I watch a dog across the street and he watches me. I would like to pat him, but I’ve made that mistake before. Let sleeping dogs lie. I meet the first pilgrim of the day, Carlos, who passes by rather rapidly. He is going up to Villavieja, but not me. It’s about a thousand feet up.

And then, a not-so-gentle climb out of the village, and a bit of a bugger of a climb up to the main road. Up and along a winding highway that loops around until it meets a road coming down from Villavieja, and then blessed relief, a sign, pointing down a minor road and saying Borrenes, 1.5 km. 

I am staying in the Cornatel Medulas Hotel, comparatively luxurious accommodation for a change.

O lonely stump

That was once

A tree all green!

What hast thou seen?

No doubt the rump

Of roving hordes 

Of infidels with swords,

And wars internecine