No news travels faster than fear and drama. We stop at a fountain for water where two ladies are seated. “Where’re you headed today’, one of the ladies asks. ‘Cacabelos’, we reply. ‘Oh’, she says, ‘we’re pulling up short of that, real shortage of places to eat’. The panic grabs us and we conjure visions of sleeping in the gutter sucking the moisture from our sweaty socks for sustenance, drawing newspaper and leaves over our shivering bodies to stay warm. In reality, the biggest issue was choosing which of seven tapas bars or which of three eateries a biscuit toss from our Albergue to go to. Shivalrous as I am, I’d offered Di the first sock suck, but it was not to be, instead, we enjoyed a beef and cheese burger and a chicken and prawn shaslick in the comfort of a pub some distance from the cold hard gutter. All was well in the world.
But it’s a bit like that with many people here. Fear about accommodation, fear about food, fear about steepness, distance, heat, cold, rain. There’s an energy you can sense when someone like this starts talking, a deep need to share their anxiety, in hope, perhaps it will be satiated in the sharing but in reality just promelgating fear and negativity. ‘Oh I beg your pardon, I’m a ceoliac and I need to take an emergency dump right now’. It’s cowardice I know but a little less brutal than, ‘thanks for sharing but I’m just not interested in taking on your baggage’. I’ve toyed with, ‘so…..highlights?’, and got back things like, ‘well yesterday was great….but this albergue really sucks….squeaky beds and no protein’. There’s no pleasing some people, and a deep undercurrent of fear and anxiety in many.
The walk from Molinaseca to Cacabelos led us through field, vine and hamlet into the large fort city of Ponferrada where we stopped for brunch and supplies at a modern bakery where Di enjoys pancakes with prucuti and beef cream (a first for us both).
Leaving Ponferrada, we pass two men tending their vines. On the road there are cherry trees and figs framing the rows of vines running off down the hill. One of the men is exuberant as he engages us. We’re not sure exactly what he said but it felt like, ‘beautiful no? The wine in this area is superb, have a fantastic day, buen camino’, no matter the words, his tone and open smile lightened our step and helped us on our way.
As we enter Columbrianos, the faithful are gathering for church, mostly older people. Two bowlegged old men in pressed camel and navy jackets and trousers hobbled arm in arm with a silver haired lady in purple. They looked as if they’d spent their lives working the fields, bend over vines on the steep hills, and walking up the hill to this church.
In town we stopped for coffee and the owner, after we’re done brought out two small glasses filled with a clear warm broth. It’s a kind of bisk with a mussel and some spice and tastes devine.
There’s a section with quite modern houses but all with large plots of land and we marveled at the rich gardens they all seemed to maintain with fruit trees, vegetables and flowers. All the while small white clouds nestle around the tops of the distant mountains.
We dropped into Camponayara, a larger more suburban town and stopped for a breather at a pizza bar. The town is full of wine related shops and sheds and not surprisingly our path is girt by vines from here to Cacabelos (where we feared we’d starve to death).
Rolling through the vineyards, I check the location of our lodgings for the night. News of a ‘deluxe room with private balcony’ (and possible hair dryer), quickens Di’s pace, and I’m hard pressed to keep up.
We fall into step with Dave through the vineyards just out of town and talk about those zen moments when there’s just the path, the sky and passing landscape, when thoughts come to rest and there’s a peaceful stillness.
The hostel was clean, well set up with a lift, washing machines and a Cafe and our room, on the second floor, looked out the back over the town (and had a hair dryer). It was a welcome destination after the days walk and a wine in the quiet square out front saw us closing out the day together as the light slowly faded into evening. There was plenty to eat.
