Day Thirty Nine: Santo Domingo de la Calzada to Villafranca Montes de Oca
We got up well before dawn, ate a half orange, bit of bread, and some yogurt and were down in the lobby pretty promptly. But we were not as prompt as many of the walkers, who we found down there and then strung out along the trail for kilometres. One of the walkers was a dog from the Netherlands named Mojo. According to her owner, Mojo can carry 8 kgs. However she had a hard day yesterday so her owner would carry the dog pack as well today. Mojo is on Facebook, so in principle we could send her a friend request.
Mojo, the Dutch hiking dog. The shot is dark and blurry because it was dark - still very early.
The bridge at Santo Domingo - presumably in the same spot that Domingo built the first bridge. There is actually no water underneath right now, so pilgrims could just walk through, presumably.
On the similar topic of internet and friends, we got a message from Ricardo, one of the four mountain biking boys we met at Navarrete, and whose photo we posted in the blog for the day before yesterday. The message gave a link to Ricardo's blog, in Portugese. We could see from this that we got a little write up. It feels an honour to be mentioned in Portugese (or is this Spanish?):
Pelo caminho conversas com outros peregrinos. Entretanto em Viana encontramos os donos das bicicletas de roda pequena e desdobráveis que estavam no albergue. Um casal canadiano de 70 anos. Têm um blog das aventuras de bicicleta lê-lo mundo, que já são muitas. Dodie e Steven. Chegados a Santiago vão fazer o caminho português até ao Porto. Depois vão de volta a Paris de onde começaram a pedalar. Expliquei como fazer para chegarem ao TGV. Se tiverem tempo param em Aveiro. (https://www.crazyguyonabike.com/doc/?doc_id=15443)
We made our way back to the N120, which had served us so well yesterday. Again, we rolled along it smoothly, rather enjoying catching up with the various walkers who had left ultra early. But after just a few kilometres the road began to look and feel exactly like the autoroute. We checked the GPS and maps and came to the horrible realization that the actual autoroute had ended and dumped onto the N120. So now we had an almost continuous stream of fast moving semi trailers passing us. The shoulder was good and I cranked along reasonably placidly. But the trucks were really getting to Dodie. Not only are they very noisy, but she was sure we would get squished.
To our left, about 30 meters away, the leading edge of the walkers was marching along the trail. Dodie became intent on joining them and getting off the road. Finally there was a little cross track, and we switched to walker mode. Actually, the walker track was paved and perfectly fine. But I knew from past experience that it couldn't last. Sure enough, the way became somewhat rough gravel. Pushing up the hills I was thinking errph, perfect storm, small wheeled Friday, heavily loaded, gravel track, pushing, uphill. But Dodie was thrilled with the apparent improvement in our circumstances.
About the same time, I realized that I just didn't have the oomph to be doing the storm this time. The half orange, crust of bread, was not enough fuel. I said to Dodie, maybe there is some food in the next town. But she replied "There is lots of food in the bag". "I thought that was supposed to be lunch". But actually there were some cookies and chocolate. I ate it all, save for some reluctant sharing. Then I mentally sat back and waited for the energy to flow through me and into pushing on the gravel track. Amazingly it worked. In about a half hour I felt much better. Food will do that. Even chocolate and cookies - or especially chocolate and cookies!
As we approached Belorado, the Camino crossed the road and passed through a little picnic area. We said hello to two people there with a Ural motorcycle. It was the cycle that attracted our attention, being a Russian model with a sidecar. This might interest my friend Dave, so I took a couple of shots. The cyclists were from Belgium and spoke French. We learned that the man had in the past cycled the Camino from Belgium to Santiago, and they both had also walked it. But now they were back with this special motorcycle. I asked them if they felt lonely being more or less the only bikers on the Camino. I think in the end they said no, but the dialog was not helped by my not knowing the French for 'lonely". One thing they did say was that N120 looked extremely dangerous. They were finding the road difficult even for them on the bike, which they said did not go very fast.
I took this shot in the interest of fairness, to support Dodie's case that the trucks want to squish us.
As it happened, a veritable bikeway was waiting for us starting at Belorado, as the Camino had been developed into a multiuse path - for walking, horses, and cycles. We gleaned this from the self-laudatory signage posted by the government.. We are puzzled though, by the fact that the texts are all in Spanish. We figure 80% of people looking at the signs would have little chance of making them out. Our interpretation is only from a few words, where they are similar to ones in English or French.
The multi-use path was nice, but no longer so strictly necessary. The reason is that in Belorado we stopped at the post office and mailed back to Didier a further 5 kgs of gear and papers. All this came off my bike, which is now much more capable of travelling rough ground than before.
A mural in Belorado - not sure who it is meant to depict
So we made it to Villa Franca Montes de Oka without getting squished. Our hostal, El Paharro, is also a truck stop, so many of the trucks we were dodging or avoiding were parked outside. It reminded me of the cartoon where the wolf in sheep's clothing and the sheep dog, after dueling all day in the sheep pasture punch out at the same time clock and say "Well see ya tomorrow, Joe".
On the other hand the view from our window still revealed lots of semitrailers trundling by.
Looking at the walking route ahead, which starts with a climb onto a ridge, we were assured by the hostal owner that our bikes would not make it. On the other hand, she felt that tomorrow being Saturday, the truck drivers would mostly be at home. The N120 and the walking path diverge widely ahead, so we have to choose one or the other. It looks like the road for us.
There is a little grocery in the town, which has a total population of only 40, we are told. The walkers must be an important source of support for the town. The store only opened at 5, and as we waited in our room it began to pour. Our rain gear was on the bikes, locked in a garage. We really needed the grocery store, so I volunteered to make a run for it. Dodie rejected that, knowing I would just come back with junk. So we both braved the rain. Dodie had wistfully suggested that I could stay home and dry, but of course I wanted to come. Result: we still came back with junk! Hopefully there is some good stuff mixed in there, giving us a chance to eat somewhat properly tomorrow...
The Hostal owner's son Oliver, aged 2. He enjoyed looking at the stamps in our creanciales. Later I showed him the photos on the screen in my camera. I hope I didn't exceed any official limit from his parents thathe may have for "screen time".
