After a couple of stiff coffees and a debrief on global politics from Michael our albergue host, we head out into a crisp, blue-sky morning towards Astorga.
It’s worth noting that Michael, a pommy, is selling the Albergue as he can’t legally continue it post brexit. There must be many in this situation. He’s bought a cottage in Cardin where he lives most of time in his mind. They’re waiting to settle on a contract on the albergue. We wish them luck.
We got out at a civil hour (8 ish), and there are many on the road. Spirits are high in the sunlight after yesterday’s rain, people are chatting, sitting in the sun, stopping to enjoy the view…..lapping up the good weather.
After Villares de Orbigo the country climbs up off the endless flats into beautiful rolling wooded hills with pockets of wheat, grape vines, pine plantations, dairy farms and wild heather.
Michael’s recommendation has us drop in to see Josss the Frenchman, up over the first hill. He does a donation only degustation breakfast; coffee, freshly squeezed orange juice and local white wine from his bodega. The wine keeps flowing as long as you wish and Josss recalls with fondness the time two french girls sat here one morning and said, ‘no wine, just coffee’. Fourteen bottles, and much singing and dancing later, the girls crashed in his little garden behind the bodega (at about 6pm).
Tempting as that sounded, we were content to sit in the sun, sip coffee and wine, and chat with Josss for awhile (its pronounced Yos, and double ‘s’ was nazi so he changed it to Josss). He showed us the bodega. It’s cut directly out of the earth without support or lining and remarkably cool and dry. As soon as ‘the wars’ finish, Joss is off to do Marco Polo’s silk road starting from Venice. He wants to ride horses on the Stepps with the Mongols, ride a tuk-tuk in India etc etc. Josss was i lovely fella and we could have enjoyed he and guji (his dog) and cats company for hours, but it was only 9:30 am and we had 18km to walk.
Climbing and winding gently through sun splashed forest and field we come to a donotivo (donation) refreshment stop at the high point before dropping into Astorga.
There on a table are laid out; boiled eggs, hazelnuts peanuts and walnuts, biscuits, cheese vegetables, chips fruit, jams, bread, coffee tea and squeeze your own orange juice – help yourself. The place has a laid back hippy commune feel and we sit and chat for awhile before the steep decent and long walk into Astorga.
Astorga’s claims to fame are its chocolate museum, the Guardia building and the cathedral, probably in that order. We didn’t tarry here as we were keen to get to our night’s lodgings, Astorga didn’t look too much different to many other cities, and we figured chocolate’s chocolate. We see Dave in Astorga, our pommy friend from Tosantos….who’s looking to buy chocolate chorros.
Only 5km on we finish up in xxxxxxde Richevaldi early enough to check in, brush the dust off our boots, and enjoy a glass of wine. We’re joined by Craig, a Shaman healer from back of Burleigh heads who makes tools for pagan ceremonies. I try to join the dots between shamanic pagan ceremonial tools and ancient Catholic pilgrimage as Craig explains the phallic shaped oak and goat hair tallisman around his neck, think better of it, and procure another wine. I venture to ask the nature of his healing practice; body work, prayer, reiki? ‘Craigy’ he offers. ‘Waiter!’.
Seven of us join at table for the vegetarian pilgrims meal of soup, vegetable paella and cake. The pale blue sky extends well into the long evening and we take a stroll around this very tidy little stone village before turning in. Tomorrow the climb up 1400m to Foncebaden.
